Increase our Faith

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Many Catholics confess to me (not just in confession but also in spiritual direction and casual conversations) that they feel spiritually inadequate, that their faith seems weak and shaky in their own estimation. That’s the diagnosis of their own spiritual health but many just leave it at that, without going further to seek a remedy or a solution to their condition. Being spiritually weak is just an excuse for not praying, not coming to Church, being undisciplined when it comes to spiritual exercises and also for being caught in a vice of sinful behaviour.

The apostles in today’s gospel passage are at least humble and honest enough to admit that they lack faith and now make this request of the Lord: “increase our faith!” But there is also a dark side to their request. The request itself is made out of ignorance and a lack of proper understanding of what such “faith” entails. They view “faith” as some form of energy or power that is needed for the performance of miracles and to fulfil the heavy demands of discipleship which our Lord had set out in the passages we’ve read in the preceding weeks. So, in their simplistic way of thinking, they are requesting for a booster that can power up their waning spiritual batteries. Our Lord could have simply acceded to their request by charging up their batteries but instead sets about explaining the nature of faith and the duty of a disciple.

Let us first take a look at the first reading, which is taken from the book of the prophet Habakkuk. A prophet speaks when he is needed and he is needed when the people have turned against God and forgotten His precepts. During the time of Habakkuk, everything which could go wrong did go wrong. There was much cheating, injustice, and violence in Israel. There were unrestrained oppressors and helpless victims. There were self-appointed prophets who twisted the word of God to suit their own agendas to gain wealth for themselves. The king of Israel, Jehoiakim forced people to build his own lavish residence with unpaid labour and taxed the people to pay for his military expeditions. The legal system in Judean society was corrupt, and injustice ran rampant. Finally, due to the sin of its leaders and people, Jerusalem fell to the Babylonians. This entire situation made Habakkuk question his own faith in God. He cries out to God, but God seems deaf to his cries. Even the prophet struggles in his faith. But it is now that God gives him a vision. God has not abandoned His people. God is not sleeping on the job. Justice will come; and in the meantime, the righteous, says Habakkuk, must live by endurance, perseverance and fidelity. In other words, the righteous must live by faith.

If an Old Testament prophet could struggle with his faith in the face of tribulation, what about us Christians? How about the early Christians? We don’t have to speculate as we see the same response from the apostles in today’s gospel. The teachings of Christ are no less easy to follow or less demanding. In fact, our Lord seems to raise the bar. Hence, the request: “increase our faith.”

The response of our Lord, “Were your faith the size of a mustard seed you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea,” and it would obey you” is not an admonition or putting down the apostles. In Greek, it would have sounded like a Nike slogan, “If you have faith – just DO it!” The apostles already have faith enough to uproot a mulberry tree whose roots are so deep and so strong that they can break rocks beneath the earth’s surface. The real meaning of the words of the Lord is that there is no point speaking about faith as if it is an academic topic nor asking for more of it as if it was a spiritual tonic. The power of faith is fully realised by acting on it. “Just do it!” No more excuses, no more dillydallying, no more hesitation.

And so we see this thread in our readings. The prophet Habakkuk and the apostles, just like all of us, suffer the same thing, they all struggle in their faith. And in both cases, God intervenes and confirms their faith. God does not admonish them for their lack of faith. Instead, God shows that they already have faith. We don’t need a defining moment to receive some superhuman ability or a perfect scenario to act. Through our baptism, we have already received the gift of faith. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches us that “Faith is a gift of God, a supernatural virtue infused by him” (CCC 153). But being a gift from God, it does not preclude human free will and cooperation. “To live, grow and persevere in the faith until the end we must nourish it with the word of God; we must beg the Lord to increase our faith; it must be "working through charity," abounding in hope, and rooted in the faith of the Church” (CCC 162).

We all struggle in our faith and there is no harm or shame in admitting this. The truth is that we are not angels. Every saint struggled in their faith. Every saint has a past and every sinner a future. A mother who gives birth to a child with physical or mental defect will struggle in her faith. Every parent whose son or daughter experiences addiction will struggle in their faith. Anyone who keeps failing when battling addiction constantly will struggle in their faith. A person who suffers due to cancer or an incurable illness will struggle in their faith. A married couple in the brink of divorce or in its aftermath will struggle in their faith. When we experience immense suffering, we will definitely go through a time of struggle in our faith. Every time you witness a scandal in the church, you will struggle in your faith.

It is normal to question our faith in God. God is not offended by our doubts or struggle in faith. He is willing to reassure us, and to stand by us, and to strengthen us. Isaiah reassures us that the Lord will “strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees" (Isa 35:3) We should know that when we struggle in our faith, it means that our Lord is providing us with the opportunity to stretch and grow in our faith. Most people are not aware that when they request the Lord to increase their faith, He will do so not by pumping us with spiritual adrenaline but provide us the training ground for us to build and form stronger spiritual muscles. When we ask Him to increase our faith, we are literally asking Him to send us trials and tribulations. So, beware when you ask for more faith. Your prayers will certainly be answered but not in the way you expect it. Struggling in faith like Habakkuk or the Apostles shows that we are on the right path. It is a sign of growing pangs, of a faith which is alive and continues to burst out of its baby clothes. God will uphold your faith.

Value of Discomfort

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Most of us are allergic to discomfort and are naturally attracted to comfort. I can honestly admit: “me too!” I look for the most comfortable chair in the room. If I had a chance, I would be doing most of my reading, writing, listening to music or watching television or even praying, lying down on a comfy sofa, a divan or even my own bed. My argument is that discomfort can be such a distraction and takes away our attention from things which require our focus. Of course, comfort can also lull you to sleep which ultimately cancels out all other intended activities.

The truth of the matter is that we have made a god of comfort. Look at the advertisements that appear on television or your social media feed. They cater to our desire for ease. Don’t misunderstand my point. I also love being comfortable, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with seeking those things that make life easier and more comfortable. But I’m bothered with the obsession I see of avoiding anything that might make us uncomfortable. This may be the reason why many people avoid church. The pews are uncomfortable. The heat and the cold are uncomfortable. The music is uncomfortable. The readings and prayers are uncomfortable. Decent Sunday Best clothing is generally uncomfortable. The priest’s homily is uncomfortably long and pointless. Everything about Church shouts “discomfort!”

But the readings we have heard today is that God’s desire is not to give you a life of comfort; He desires to be your comfort. In the first reading, the prophet Amos warns the people of Judah and Israel against feeling so comfortable that they have insulated themselves from the suffering and poverty of those around them and for this reason they have also insulated themselves from God’s Word. In the second reading, St Paul reminds the young bishop Timothy of the need to strive in making progress in Christian virtue and sanctity, “to fight the good fight.” Christianity is not about lazing around like spiritual couch potatoes waiting for the next blessing to drop on our laps without any effort on our part. Faith can’t be manipulated via remote control.

St Paul writes: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction” (2 Cor. 1:3-4). It is clear that God does not promise to remove our afflictions. Many times, He mercifully does, but there’s no guarantee. What is promised is that “He comforts us in all our affliction.” That is the greater gift: God Himself walking with us! God wants us to find our joy in Him, not in a life of ease and comfort. This life is short and transitory, and those things we crave and rely on for our comfort are equally transitory. They will not last—but God’s presence will. As my favourite saint, Teresa of Avila, often reminds me, “all things passes, only God remains!” There will come a day in His eternal kingdom when we will be free from all affliction. There will be unending joy and comfort with Christ in His kingdom, but for now He wants us to learn that it is Him—His loving, comforting presence—that we truly need.

This is what the famous parable of Lazarus and the rich man seeks to illustrate. Many people often provide this parable with a moral interpretation - that is, that we should be concerned with the welfare of our brethren unlike the rich man who was indifferent to the needs of Lazarus, the beggar. Others have also used this parable as a lesson on poverty and riches. Poverty in this life will be rewarded with riches and treasures in the next, while wealth in this life would be a foolish investment because it yields nothing in the next when it is not shared with others.

Though these may be valid points, I would like to lead our reflexion into a different rabbit hole. I view this parable as an invitation to see value in the uncomfortable, in suffering, in what is lacking. There is no greater contrast made than that of the rich man and poor Lazarus. The first lived a life of great comfort, described in detail in the story, while the latter suffered abject poverty. Yet after death, their fortunes were reversed. The rich man would now suffer the ultimate discomfort of being separated from his loved ones and from God while Lazarus would be comforted in the bosom of Abraham. Notice that the rich man only came to be aware of his brothers’ spiritual welfare when he was dead, when he is now experiencing the greatest discomfort. He had little thought for his brothers when he was alive because his comfortable lifestyle had made him immune to feeling any empathy for others.

What can we learn from this story and Amos’ warning in the first reading? While God offers ultimate spiritual comfort, He often uses uncomfortable situations to promote spiritual growth and deeper reliance on Him rather than on worldly comforts. Our Lord Jesus Himself promised His followers that, in this world, they would face hardship (John 16:33), yet this discomfort can lead to true peace, growth, and a greater understanding of God's power and faithfulness.

So, why does God allow us to experience the uncomfortable?

Firstly, God wishes to dislodge our dependence on worldly comforts, what spiritual writers call “inordinate affections” - loving the creature for its own sake and not because it leads us to love the Creator. God often uses discomfort to break our reliance on easy, predictable comforts, which can be false idols or sources of sin.

Secondly, as God helps us to be detached from temporal earthly pleasures, He is leading us to true lasting comfort. By moving you out of your comfort zone, God helps you seek and find His comfort, which is rooted in His presence and promises, rather than a life free from difficulty.

Thirdly, uncomfortable situations help us stretch and move beyond our comfort zones and help promote growth and trust in God in all situations. People tend to trust less in God when they are feeling comfortable. But they can discover the strength which comes from grace in moments of weakness and vulnerability. God uses uncomfortable situations, like a crucible and furnace, to refine us and align us for His purpose. So, what do we do if we find ourselves in an uncomfortable situation? Rather than demanding an end to the discomfort, let us seek God’s presence in it. Our own discomfort should lead us to greater solidarity with others who may be suffering greater discomfort than us. Comfort blinds our senses just as it did with the rich man in the parable, who was oblivious to the needs and suffering of Lazarus who sat at his gates. Discomfort opens them. Remember that God does not waste suffering; even your discomfort is part of His plan to bring you to a greater good.

Finally, we must be willing to step outside the path of least resistance, and into situations that call you to greater faith and action, for that is what discipleship is all about. As the Son of God bridged the impassable “gulf” between heaven and earth to come to us sinners in our aid, let us bridge the “gulf” that remains between us and others and not wait till it is no longer passable.

Money Matters

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room and go straight to the very question many of you may be asking: Is having money bad? Now, to be honest, most of us would have a positive to ambivalent view of money - money is good, it is even necessary, especially when it gets you the things you want in life. Despite what people claim, money can buy us some level of happiness. It’s not perfect nor lasting happiness, but money can contribute to an injection of dopamine in your system. When is money considered a bad thing? I guess it’s when we have to part with our money. When we believe that an item we want is prized too high, or the amount of taxes we have to pay to the government is just outrageous or when the Church asks us to give more in the collection. So, when others are perceived to be out for our money, our hard-earned savings, then we will accuse them of being greedy, materialistic and money minded. Over the years, these labels have been the most common ones I’ve heard, especially, when I’m making a fund raising pitch.

Anyway, back to our first question: “Is having money bad?” Obviously, we see in some cases, like the Israelites in the first reading, love for money can lead to corruption and exploitation, especially of the poor and the weak, and ultimately this led to their destruction. Nevertheless, this moral tale of Israel’s undoing of God’s promises and blessings through its leaders’ greed and injustice should not be taken as a blanket approbation of money and wealth. While the love of riches poses temptations, money in itself is not intrinsically evil or unworthy of our use.

Our Lord did not inaugurate a new economic system that did away with the need for fair trade or some form of currency. The Kingdom of God did not entail a Utopian socialist or communist welfare state where there was a free supply of goods and services. Because of the miracle of the Incarnation, God became man as the Word became Flesh and dwelt among us. Because Christ was both truly God and truly human, He had a body, lived in a family, recognised humanity's need for food, health, and material necessities, and acknowledged the importance of money as a measure of reality and as a practical necessity. Although Christ warned against worshiping money and serving Mammon, and although He taught His followers not to be anxious about food, clothing, and all the things that money affords, He did not regard money as a trivial matter beneath Him or His followers. Christ of course enjoined man not to "lay up treasures on earth" and not to be ruled by avarice in the form of greed or miserliness, like the rich man who gave Lazarus the scraps from his table while he feasted at a banquet. Yet Christ did not scorn money, for in His humanity He always paid His debts and was mindful of humanity's need to use material resources throughout our daily lives.

In the gospels, Christ teaches the importance of common sense and the virtue of prudence in all transactional relationships. A builder constructing a tower looks foolish if he does not first calculate the cost before he builds the foundation and later discovers a lack of funds to complete the project. Likewise, a king who wages war takes account of the number of his forces in comparison to the enemy's army to determine his chances of victory. Common sense always counts the cost and avoids wasting money and resources. Our faith is not blind, and it is certainly not foolish. You do not rush into something, throwing all caution to the wind, whilst banking on God to extricate you out of the mess you are making. Common sense not only considers consequences and weighs costs but also acknowledges the uncertainty of the future with all its unpredictability and variability. Foolish planning, excessive spending, and imaginary scheming are all based on the presumption that our future is within our control. It isn’t.

Our Lord goes further in today’s parable of the dishonest but astute steward. The fact that our Lord praises a dishonest man may come as a shock to many of us. Christ does not praise the steward for his dishonesty or for having cunningly extracted himself from impending disaster. Sinful behaviour can never be condoned, and the end can never justify the means. What is laudable is that the steward is able to make changes and take creative steps to avoid a personal disaster that would have ruined him. When ordered to give an account of his management after accusations about wasteful spending, the steward seeks the master's debtors and bargains with them to give a portion of the money owed. In a way, he fulfills our Lord’s command to forgive debts (or sins), so that his own may be forgiven. The dishonest steward makes restitution of his past mistakes and restores his master's fortune.

At the end of the day, money and wealth are morally ambivalent. They are tainted when we choose them to advance our own selfish agenda to the detriment of others. And yet, though risking being tainted, such money can be used for the furtherance and advancement of others and a good cause. At the end of the day, money is “good” in that God did not create anything inherently evil, but it would be so much “better” if used for others, especially for the poor and for the mission of the Church.

The wise Christian who understands this truth does not waste money and does not hoard it. He does not worship gold or make an idol of Mammon, but recognises other treasure in heaven, the divine rewards that are a hundredfold. He calculates costs, predicts consequences, and demonstrates foresight, but does not live in an imaginary future. He counts pennies, but he does not hesitate to give without measure when the occasion inspires generosity. He honours the truth that the labourer is worthy of his hire, but the love of justice does not impair his spirit for forgiveness, mercy, and charity, which transcend the letter of the law. He uses his assets of money, land, or animals to produce an abundant harvest, remembering that good husbandry, gardening, or economy strives for fruitfulness, increase, and profit both in the economic life and moral life.

The moral life of a Christian, then, can be likened to a business venture in which God gives his stewards the opportunity, the raw materials, the resources, and the talents to be fruitful and multiply. The workers cannot be selfish, lazy, dishonest, avaricious or useless. God takes stock and demands accountability. God expects increase from the talents that He invests and awaits interest from the capital He lends. A bountiful harvest in the form of the fruitfulness of love and the benefits of profits earns the praise, "Well done, good and faithful servant," and "Enter into the joy of your master,” (Mt 25:21; 26). This multiplication of good works in matters great and small wins not only the earnings of one's labour and the praise of the master but also eternal life: "Come, O blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (Mt 25:34). Both the economic art of managing temporal goods and the moral life of the Christian rejoice in making a profit, creating a surplus, and beholding a fruitful harvest.

Finding Power in Powerlessness

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Power is as intoxicating as any drug we know of, perhaps even more potent than most. To those who are powerless, power promises redemption, a means to improve one’s position, to undo the injustices we face, to climb out of the rut we find ourselves trapped in. For those in power, the one thing they fear most is the loss of power. It would mean the loss of security, the loss of livelihood, the loss of public esteem or even worse, the loss of their lives. Dictators often do not fare well when they are overthrown in a coup. But today, we are confronted by the most radical inversion of how we should view power. The cross paradoxically shows us how true power is rooted in abject powerlessness.

Throughout the annals history, the cross remains a sign of contradiction – it is both an unthinkable disgrace and yet a potent source of grace. It has inspired confidence in armies to march into battle and others to sue for peace; it has been used as a palpable symbol of power as well as powerlessness. And so, it is both despised as well as coveted by one human power or another. The cross was invented by the Persians and then adopted by the Romans as one of the cruelest and most frightening instruments of torture and execution to instil fear among subjects. Constantine used it as a talisman of power in the civil war with his brother and the Persians claimed it as their greatest battle trophy over the Byzantines.

So, how is the cross a symbol of power and powerlessness? The symbolism of power hidden in the cross is often lost on us and is only revealed as a mystery of revelation. The Cross represents the Sovereign authority of God and His providence. This is certainly difficult to comprehend. Yet, what seems to us to be failure is, in God’s eyes, the victory of sacrificial love. It is on the cross, that Christ receives the highest exaltation from God, ironically, at the moment He suffered the greatest humiliation at the hands of men. As Christ was lifted up on the Cross, now by means of the Cross, He lifts up humanity, and indeed all creation. As today’s gospel reminds us, “for God sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world, but so that through him the world might be saved”. The Cross possesses the power to forgive sins, the power to heal consciences and human hearts.

But paradoxically, the cross is also a symbol and an instrument of powerlessness. For a brief moment, the Son of God gave up His access to the powers of the universe and submitted Himself to the power of men so that He could die at our hands. On the wood of the cross, the most powerful being in the universe chose to be powerless. The Lutheran theologian and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, describes the profound significance of this moment, “God allows himself to be edged out of the world and onto the cross. God is weak and powerless in the world, and that is exactly the way, the only way, in which he can be with us and help us.” So what God has done is that He took an instrument of evil, an instrument that brings death and transformed it so that it gives life, brings goodness and healing, and that’s what we hear the Lord saying about Himself, “When I am lifted up, as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, then I will give life.” Just as Moses uses the symbol of Israel’s bane, the serpent, as a visible sign of God’s healing, our Lord similarly uses the cross as an instrument of healing, life and salvation.

The power and the powerlessness of the cross provide us with the necessary lens to view our own suffering, our daily crosses. St John Paul II, who prophetically wrote his first encyclical on Suffering, and would later suffer that fate in the last years of his pontificate, uses the cross to formulate his answer to man’s perennial dilemma – Why do we have to suffer. The saintly Pope stated, with piercing simplicity, that the answer has "been given by God to man in the cross of Jesus Christ." Each of us is called to "share in that suffering through which the Redemption was accomplished." Through His only begotten Son, God "has confirmed His desire to act especially through suffering, which is man's weakness and emptying of self, and He wishes to make His power known precisely in this weakness and emptying of self."

And this is the way we experience God’s power here on earth, sometimes to our great frustration, and this is the way that Jesus was deemed powerful during His lifetime. The gospels make this clear. Jesus was born powerless, and He died helpless on a cross. Yet both His birth and His death show the kind of power on which we can ultimately build our lives. The cross of Christ, therefore, teaches us that we can find power in weakness, in that which makes us vulnerable and even seemingly powerless.

Perhaps, what makes it so difficult to accept the good news of the cross, is that we are stubbornly holding on to power; we want to have a “sense of control.” Henri Nouwen writes, “What makes the temptation of power so seemingly irresistible? Maybe it is that power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life.” Most of us fear our powerlessness in the face of illness and death. We would like to retain an element of control, even though we realise that dying often involves the very opposite: a total loss of control, over our muscles, our emotions, our minds, our bowels and our very lives, as our human framework succumbs to powerful disintegrative forces.

Even when those disintegrative forces become extreme and our suffering may seem overwhelming, however, an important spiritual journey always remains open for us. This path is a "road less traveled," a path that, unexpectedly, enables us to achieve genuine control in the face of suffering and even death. The hallmark of this path is the personal decision to accept our sufferings, actively laying down our life on behalf of others by embracing the particular kind of death God has ordained for us, patterning our choice on the choice consciously made by Jesus Christ. As no one had ever done before, Jesus charted the path of love-driven sacrifice, choosing to lay down His life for His friends. He was no mere victim in the sense of being a passive and unwilling participant in His own suffering and death. He was in control. He was powerful even in His apparent powerlessness. No one could possibly take His life from Him, unless He chose to lay it down.

To the Romans, it may have been an instrument of torture or execution, to Constantine it may have been an amulet of power, to the Persians a trophy of conquest, but to us Christians, it is the very symbol of Christ’s victory over darkness, death, sin and the devil. Therefore, as the entrance antiphon exhorts us, “We should glory in the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, in whom is our salvation, life and resurrection, through whom we are saved and delivered.”

We need Disciples, not Volunteers

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

As a priest I must admit, I have my good days and bad days. Good days when I feel no regrets at being a priest, when the ministry is rewarding and fruits are evident. But then, just like all of you, I have my bad days. When my decisions and best intentions are met with criticism, hostility and other forms of negative reaction. I am tempted to ask myself: is this all worth it? Did I sign up for this abuse? Or in exasperation I may even decry that I don’t get paid enough for this - in fact, I get paid peanuts for the job! That’s true, but that is the difference between a job and ministry, between a volunteer and a disciple. I constantly need to remind myself before I remind others - we in the Church are called to share in the ministry or the apostolate of the Church. Though it entails work, sometimes thankless tiring work, it is not a job but a vocation. We are called to be disciples of the Lord and not just part-time volunteers.

I guess the culture of volunteerism has taken a firm foothold in Church ministry and mission. The frequent cry you often hear in most churches is this, ‘We need more volunteers!’ Volunteering has become the primary way in which Christians are invited to participate in the work and mission of the Church. Over the years, I find that sustaining morale among church volunteers has become a real challenge, sometimes it seems even impossible. We see our volunteers suffering from disillusionment and a constant need for tender-loving-care. The usual complaints we hear is that many feel unappreciated, ill-equipped for the job, a lack of support from others, and have become tired of the numerous criticisms heaped against them.

But perhaps the greatest problem lies in the area of quality control. This is particularly true in the case of the Catholic Church. Well, you know what they say, ‘when you are only willing to pay peanuts, expect nothing less than monkeys!’ (What does that tell you about us priests?) The most troubling issue when dealing with volunteers is that of commitment. There is no doubt that volunteer work is often a thankless and demanding endeavour, requiring great generosity, time and effort. We’ve eventually come to accept that if we demand too much of these volunteers, they would break and quit. We tip toe around their mistakes and find it hard to hold them accountable. Too often we settle for less rather than for more. In order to keep and please our volunteers, we end up lowering standards, compromising values and ultimately crippling the radical demands of discipleship in the name of survival.

It’s important and liberating to remember that volunteerism is not discipleship. While volunteerism has great value, even in the Church, it is not the central model for Christian life and service. We don’t need to recruit church volunteers—our Lord’s command to us was to go and make disciples. When it comes right down to it, there is a huge difference between volunteering from time to time, being a fair-weather follower, and belonging totally to Jesus Christ. The individualism and consumerism that shapes how we participate in volunteering are incompatible with the selfless, all-demanding devotion that Christ calls for in participating in His mission. One of the benefits of being a volunteer is that there is always the option to take a break or even to quit. Volunteers set the agenda- when, how much, where, and what it is they will volunteer for. Discipleship, on the other hand, is not periodic volunteer work on one’s own terms or at one’s convenience. As it is clear in the strong statements we find in today’s gospel, discipleship is total, unconditional, limitless commitment to Christ, requiring the greatest sacrifice, even enduring suffering and death.

Structurally, today’s gospel selection is comprised of a catena of sayings on discipleship, followed by two parables. The sayings demonstrate a literary device in Semitic literature, the hyperbole; a figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in ‘I could sleep for a year’ or ‘This book weighs a ton.’ The hyperboles or exaggerations help us to appreciate and imagine the gravity of what is being expressed. Thus, the forcefulness of the first saying in today’s gospel to turn one’s back on, or literally to ‘hate’ father, mother, etc, is shocking. Naturally, this is not an actual call to hate your family – hate is incongruent with the Christian life. To hate here means absolute detachment in the strongest possible terms. ‘Hating’ parents simply meant loving Jesus first and foremost, above family and even above self. From that love would flow the willingness to follow the Lord by taking up the cross.

Therefore, the gospel sets out the difference between mere volunteerism and hard-edged discipleship. It boils down to the answer you give to these set of questions – What are you prepared to lose? What are you prepared to give up? What is the cost you are willing to pay? Disciples are willing to pay the price of giving up everything for the sake of the kingdom. Discipleship is costly because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it cost God the life of His Son: “you were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us.

In the two short parables you just heard, our Lord communicates the necessity of entering into the process of discipleship with a clear head and the intention of persevering, holding fast till the end. The man who wants to build a tower must count the cost to make sure he has enough to finish the job. The king who is going to war must first count his troops and resources to make sure he can win the battle. In both parables the message is clear: Those who begin a major endeavour need to be prepared to see it through to the finish. Throughout our lives we will be tempted to quit when suffering threatens us, when we face criticism, when the cost seems too heavy, when we receive little reward or encouragement. The importance of counting the cost of discipleship is apparent when we see the point of our endeavour is to finish the race, not just merely to start it. Some say the hardest part is getting started. If this is true though, why do we hear stories of people who give up on their diet, stop writing a novel or quit a difficult task at work. Maybe it’s not the start but the finish that’s so difficult. The goal should always be to finish, not start. And in order to finish, we must be prepared to pay the cost and make sacrifices.

Today, what the Church needs is not more volunteers. We have enough of that and we could do with less of that! What the Church needs, what Christ wants, what salvation demands is this –men and women who have counted the cost and who are committed to Jesus regardless of the cost, and who will not stop in the middle of the stream and go back. What the Church needs are disciples! Discipleship is not for the faint of heart. Discipleship is not for the lukewarm. Discipleship is not for the fence-straddlers. Discipleship is for the committed, for the consecrated and dedicated. Discipleship is for those willing to put their hand to the plough and not look back. Discipleship is not for a day, or for a week, or a year. Discipleship is for the rest of our lives. Discipleship is for those who are willing to follow Him regardless of what they have to let go of and leave behind. These are the clear job descriptions that disciples must know and be prepared for: No reserves – sacrifice everything, no retreats – press on, no regrets – finish the race.

Humility blossoms in Generosity

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Recently, I attended a friend’s sacerdotal anniversary celebration. I was given the honour to be seated at the main VIP table that was strategically placed at the very centre of the hall. Apart from the stage, all eyes were laser focused on this table and all who sat at it. If given a choice, I would have asked for an obscure table at the side. My request was not made out of humility but out of selfish convenience. It’s easier to make a bee line for the restrooms when you are at the side and no one would notice that you are attempting to make an early exit.

So, the advice provided by the Lord in today’s gospel with regard to etiquette behaviour at a wedding feast where we are invited as guests does not immediately strike me as self-deprecating. Some may even describe it as a cunning and manipulative way of getting upgraded instead of suffering the humiliation of being downgraded.

On this day, as we celebrate our Independence Day, though not exactly the foundation of our federal nation, and as we also celebrate our Parish Community as family, we are provided with a lesson on two important virtues which are essential to harmonious living and being neighbourly - humility and generosity.

In fact, these two virtues are intimately connected. Humility, a virtue often misconstrued, stands in stark contrast to entitlement, the enemy of generosity. Humility thrives in restraint, obscurity, and vulnerability, not seeking validation or retribution against those who have wronged us. It’s a hidden treasure of the soul, more intrigued by the inner sanctum than the spotlight. Humility lies down and waits—not in a defeated way but in a way that brings peace. People who have little patience have little humility. They feel entitled to instant gratification. When impatience begins to drain from us, we begin to listen. Humility can feel tiresome, but mostly when we are fighting it.

On the other hand, pride drives the need for entitlement. We give not out of the generosity of the heart but expecting something in return, which exposes false generosity for what it is - a self-serving attitude. If we do something good for others, it is not for their benefit but for ours and we feel upset when they show little gratitude or acknowledgement. Entitlement is the new disease of pride gone unchecked. Instead of rejoicing over the blessings which others have received, the sense of entitlement leads to resentment.

But our Lord tells us in today’s gospel that true generosity involves giving without the expectation of receiving anything in return. No strings attached. No quid pro quo. So often, our mindset is to give something in order to get something. We make friends because it is advantageous to do so. We give compliments to get one back. We love in order to be loved. No matter what it is, there’s often an expectation to our giving. But real generosity doesn’t have that same expectation. God gave us Jesus, not because we gave Him anything to deserve or earn this gift, but simply because He chose to do so out of the generosity of His heart. It was an intentional and loving gift—one that demonstrates true, unwavering generosity.

On this day as we reflect over our common citizenship and fraternal bond as sisters and brothers in the Body of Christ, let us make every effort to reject pride and entitlement, which are twin diseases that do not only eat into the very core of our being but also into the foundation of our society and community. In place of pride, let us seek humility. Instead of demanding something from the community, from the Church or from our country, let us be ever generous to see in what way can we contribute to the betterment of our society. Let us remember those immortal words of John F. Kennedy, spoken at his inaugural address as president of the United States: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” I would also add: “Ask not what your Church can do for you, ask what you can do for your Church.”

Are you saved?

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Our Lord gives us a frightening parable of judgment in answer to the question: “Sir, will there be only a few saved?” You may think that this question is ludicrous, that it’s making a mountain out of a molehill. You may even volunteer to beat Jesus in giving the answer to this man: “of course not! Don’t you know that everyone’s going to be saved?” Although official Catholic teaching and Protestant understanding of salvation shares many points in common, this is where they defer – at least in popular imagination. Many Catholics believe that everyone is going to heaven while Protestants think that almost everyone, unless you are a true Christian believer, is going to hell.

When Protestants ask Catholics if they have been saved, the question would most likely be met with a stunned look on the part of the Catholic or an admission that he has never thought about this before. This comes as good news to the Protestant as he can now confidently proselytise the Catholic and ensure that the latter is saved by becoming a Bible believing, faith professing Protestant Christian. For many Protestants, one becomes a Christian by merely making a confession of faith in Jesus as Saviour and Lord. Baptism comes later but isn’t necessary for our salvation. I guess the reason why most Catholics are not prepared with an answer to that question is that salvation or rather, heaven, is something they often take for granted. Why worry about this moot issue when we can all get to heaven?

Perhaps, this common Catholic misunderstanding of universal salvation can be far more dangerous than the Protestant heretical position of being saved once and for all by grace alone. When you believe that salvation is guaranteed whether you’ve lived a good life or not in conformity to Christ’s teachings and God’s will, it is called the sin of presumption, which is a sin against hope. On presumption, the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “There are two kinds of presumption. Either man presumes upon his own capacities, (hoping to be able to save himself without help from on high), or he presumes upon God’s almighty power or his mercy (hoping to obtain his forgiveness without conversion and glory without merit).” (CCC 2092) When people are presumptuous, they are living in denial of the truth. And because they are living in denial, they will not repent of his or her own sin.

I have often tried to explain the Catholic position on salvation to both Catholics and non-Catholics by using this analogy of being shipwrecked in the middle of an ocean. We’re like the survivors of a shipwreck in a storm out in mid-ocean. Just imagine being in this situation. The nearest shoreline is just too far for even the strongest swimmer. You won’t be able to save yourself. The only way that we can get out of this situation is that we are saved. And the good news is that we have been rescued from drowning by the Lord Jesus Himself, our Saviour, and welcomed onboard the ship we call the Church. That ship is now taking us to a safe harbour — our home in heaven with God. For Protestants, being saved is the end of the story and they don’t even believe you need a boat for this. But for Catholics, baptism, being rescued into the ship is just the first step. But we’re not home yet.

You could say, then, that we’ve been “saved” in the sense of being rescued and taken aboard a safe vessel. But we can’t really speak of being “saved” in the full sense until we reach our destination. We must humbly admit that we haven’t yet arrived at final perfection. Meanwhile, we also must recognise the sobering possibility that — God forbid — we could choose someday to jump overboard again. Salvation isn’t guaranteed just because of something we’ve done in the past. We continue to have a free will, which is part of God’s likeness in us. So we still have the ability to turn away from God again. It’s a chilling possibility. But it shouldn’t make us perpetually worried that we’ll be damned despite our best efforts to grow in grace. We can be confident that God desires our salvation, and He’s faithful to help us. And He does so by providing us with the Sacraments. If we’re tempted to forsake Him, He’ll grant us the power to resist that temptation. He will even send a lifeboat to rescue us again through the sacrament of penance. Even so, the choice is still ours.

If we can’t be certain as to the final statistics on the population of heaven and hell, there are some things we can know with certainty because our Lord has revealed this to us, leaving no room for speculation.

Firstly, Hell is real and it is everlasting. We may not hear much about hell these days and we may not even like to, but silence on the subject does not make the reality of Hell go away. Infact the denial of hell leads ultimately to the trivialising of heaven. But a healthy understanding of the pains and horrors of hell, will lead us to an authentic appreciation of the joys of heaven.

Secondly, life is a series of choices. We can either choose to take a) the difficult path that leads to the narrow gate and life, and b) the broad path which leads to the wide gate and destruction. The narrow path is the way of the Cross which our Lord undertook, and we must follow in our respective way. The second reading from Hebrews reminds us that the suffering we endure is not the result of a cruel sadistic God but because “suffering is part of your training; God is treating you as his sons.” It is a popular error of our time to believe that it does not matter which road one takes. Some believe that all roads are like spokes on a wheel, all leading to the same place—Heaven. In fact, we make choices every day that draw us closer to God or lead us farther away from Him. That’s why simply believing in Jesus isn’t enough. Friendship with God, like friendship of any kind, is more than just getting acquainted. It involves making a series of choices to love over the long term, so that a committed relationship grows. Faith is useless then, without good works. God must have our active cooperation, because both our mind and our will — the full likeness of God — must be renewed if we’re to be saved in the end.

Thirdly, there is an urgency to making the right decision. Time is of the essence. No time for procrastination or putting off what must be done today. Our Lord speaks of the time when the householder will arise, shut and lock the door. That corridor of opportunity will not always be opened and if mistaken that it is always open may lead to our destruction.

Finally, we must make our own salvation and the salvation of all those around us, our top priority in this life. As the old Catholic adage reminds us: “the salvation of souls is the supreme law!” Nothing else ranks anywhere close in importance—not health, wealth, career, popularity, possessions or acclaim by others. Know what you must do to be saved and work out that salvation in fear and trembling.

Today, let us not be guilty of the sin of presumption that Heaven is guaranteed no matter how or which way we live our lives. Truly, our Lord Jesus is the Divine Mercy. Truly, He wishes and desires for all of us to be saved. But more urgently, He wants us to understand that there can be no other way to salvation other than passing through the Narrow Door. He is that Narrow Doorway to Heaven. It is the Gospel of Christ, paid by His own blood on the cross. It is demanding. It demands that we make the ultimate sacrifice by turning our backs on all the false gods that have become the defining elements in our lives. It demands repentance on our part.

Proclaiming the Glory of God

Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Today’s feast does not sit well with Protestants. It will be no surprise that those for whom the bible is paramount, for whom nothing can be said without clear biblical justification, the doctrine of the Assumption is not something they are easy with. We use the gospel reading on the Visitation, because there is nothing in the gospels that describes the Assumption in the way that the Visitation is described. Elsewhere, Psalm 132, where the Blessed Virgin is interpreted as the “Ark of God” that is taken into heaven, is cited. Along with similar interpretations of Genesis 3:15, 1 Corinthians 15:54, and Revelation 12:1-2, this hardly amounts to an explicit expression of the dogma of the Assumption; on their own, they are not a ringing endorsement. So, why is this gospel passage selected for today? How do we draw a trajectory from the Visitation to that of the Assumption?

We know so little of Mary even from the few scriptural references to her. How could the Church, therefore, make this leaping conjecture to speak of her as the most honoured and glorified creature of God, exalted above all creation, and uniquely sharing the privilege of incorruptibility of her Son at the end of her earthly sojourn? I would like to propose that the answer to all these questions is found in the great hymn of Mary, the Magnificat, described by Pope Benedict XVI as a “marvelous canticle (that) mirrors the entire soul, the entire personality of Mary. We can say that this hymn of hers is a portrait of Mary, a true icon in which we can see her exactly as she is.”

The Blessed Virgin Mary confesses in the inspired hymn, guided by the Holy Spirit, that the source of her “greatness” and “blessedness” is not found in any personal merit but in God. She does not exalt herself as others are prone of doing but immediately the greatness of God when she hears of Elizabeth’s praise of her and the child within her womb. Just as the Magnificat is a song that glorifies and exalts God, today’s feast of the Assumption is an Opus Magnum to God who raises her up to share in His heavenly glory. 

The erudite Pope Benedict continues to explain: “Mary wanted God to be great in the world, great in her life and present among us all. She was not afraid that God might be a “rival” in our life, that with his greatness he might encroach on our freedom, our vital space. She knew that if God is great, we too are great. Our life is not oppressed but raised and expanded: it is precisely then that it becomes great in the splendour of God. The fact that our first parents thought the contrary was the core of original sin. They feared that if God were too great, he would take something away from their life. They thought that they could set God aside to make room for themselves.”

But this is not the case of Mary. She understood that her lowliness and littleness was the perfect occasion for God to exhibit His power and greatness. This was no virtue-signaling stemming from a misguided sense of false humility. Although what God had done and was doing in her life was radically new, because nothing like the Incarnation had ever happened or could ever be conceived, it was not a radical departure from what God had done in history and will continue to do until the end of time. The Assumption is precisely the best testimony and proof of what the Lord has promised to do in scripture and what Mary had sung in this song of praise. 

The difficulty of Protestants and other detractors in accepting the dogma of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary is that they often confuse this event with the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ. At a superficial level, one could say that the Ascension is recorded in the gospels while Mary’s Assumption isn’t. If the Bible was the only record of revelation, this would be irrefutable proof that the belief in the Assumption is untenable. Case closed. Full stop. But for us Catholics, the deposit of faith is not only found in written Sacred Scripture but also in oral Sacred Tradition, the former affirming the validity of the latter. Although there is no record of the life and death of Mary after the death, resurrection and Ascension of her Son, Sacred Tradition provides us with the source material to fill in the blanks. While the relics and tombs of the apostles were venerated from the earlier centuries, Mary left no first relic  of her physical body. But we honour the place where she was buried and just like her Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, the tomb is empty. There is no body because as the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: "Finally the Immaculate Virgin, preserved free from all stain of original sin, when the course of her earthly life was finished, was taken up body and soul into heavenly glory, and exalted by the Lord as Queen over all things, so that she might be the more fully conformed to her Son, the Lord of lords and conqueror of sin and death."The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin is a singular participation in her Son's Resurrection and an anticipation of the resurrection of other Christians.”"

So, the real fundamental difference between the Ascension of our Lord and the Assumption of our Lady would be their respective causes. The Ascension of Christ was by His own power. Only Christ has ascended to Heaven. In the Gospel of St. John, Jesus told Nicodemus, ”No one has ascended into Heaven but he who descended from Heaven, the Son of man” (John 3:13). But the Glorification of Mary’s body and her Assumption was not by her own power, however. It was by the decision and act of God. So, to deny that it is impossible for Mary to be assumed into heaven both body and soul, is a direct affront to the sovereignty and power of God - to assert that God is powerless to do so.

Although the Assumption of Mary and the Ascension of the Lord are two different events, both of them indicate a way of elevation for us, human and spiritual, to which we are all called. The beauty of these callings is that they invite interior growth, renovation and transformation in our lives. Furthermore, these celebrations of our Church remind us that “death” is not the end of our human story. Death is just a transition to the true life with God, life eternal in the fullness of God’s love.

 

At the end of Mary’s life on earth, Mary is taken up to heaven in body and soul. She, who never knew sin, was assumed into heaven and never experienced corruption. Mary, as the new Eve, fulfilled God’s plan from the beginning of creation. Mary always lived perfectly in the will of God. The handmaid of the Lord has laid down for us the perfect model of discipleship that we may follow. We are called to live in the will of God and we don’t have to do this alone. She is there to help us.

Fire and Baptism

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Most people who volunteer to serve in church are often moved by a sincere passion to do good, to make a difference and to contribute something to the building of the community. They would expect approval, appreciation, praise, and support for the time and energy that they dedicate or sacrifice for the Church. But unfortunately, that is an ideal very far from reality. They will soon have to deal with the adverse criticism, envy, and jealousy. Little do they realise that everything goes south pretty soon. The ease and speed with which opposition, skepticism, mockery, or hostility manage to douse the initial enthusiasm, dampen the ideals and render harmless the noblest teaching is surprising.

This is what Jeremiah, the doomsday prophet of the waning kingdom of Judah and the holy city of Jerusalem, had to face when he brought God’s dire warnings to His people. His message was not meant to be an insult but it was taken as such. His words were targeted at moving the insolent people to repentance but they had the opposite effect - their hearts grew more hardened. In trying to save the city and the kingdom, they viewed it as a threat of violence, perhaps even viewing Jeremiah as a spy planted by their enemies to discourage them. So, instead of welcoming this final warning with open eyes, they manufactured their own destruction by throwing the Lord’s prophet into a well and leaving him to die. No wonder there was no prophet left to warn Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem. The price one had to pay for telling the truth was just too costly and served as a deterrent to the rest.

So, what would we prefer? A sugar-coated lie or the stinging painful truth? Even though the sweetness of the former may be preferred to the bitterness of the latter, we must acknowledge that only the truth can save us, only the truth can set us free. Lies can only provide us with false security, and perhaps that is more dangerous than in seeing the truth and acknowledging the risk of what is to come.

Our Lord would not lie to those who wish to follow Him. He doesn’t promise them a bed of roses, a peaceful conflict-free existence but one which would be marked by violence and conflict. Not that Christians would be wielders of the sword except the sword of truth, but that many of them would suffer death and injury at the hands of others who will hold the sword of violence and hostility towards them and the message they bring. If this is the fate of the Master, what will be that of the disciples, the torchbearers of His fire? They too will provoke—ensures the Lord —dissensions, divisions, and hostility and have to reckon with painful lacerations within their own families

Our Lord uses two images to convey this truth - fire and baptism. Violence and destruction can be clearly discerned from the image of fire. But how about the benign image of baptism? A stark contrast is intended here. What do we need for baptism? Water, the opposite of fire. Water is lifesaving. It provides life and nourishment and it can douse the flames of fire. But scriptural reference to water is anything but benign. From the watery chaos before God’s work of creation, to the great flood of Noah’s time that carried out God’s judgment in destroying a wicked generation and a fallen world, water is meant to be a destructive force. But after the flood, the rainbow appears in the sky, a symbol of peace restored between heaven and earth. God swears: "Never again will all life be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth" (Gen 9:11). From this promise, a conviction is born and spreads in Israel that, to cleanse the world of iniquity, God would no longer use water but fire: "For by fire will the Lord execute judgment … against all mortals" (Is 66:16).

What is this fire all about? It is natural to think of the final judgment and eternal punishment that awaits the wicked. St John the Baptist speaks of the coming Messiah who will baptise us with “the Holy Spirit and fire ... . The chaff he will burn in everlasting fire" (Mt 3:11-12). The two brothers, James and John, wanted to call down fire from heaven against the Samaritans (Lk 9:54), but our Lord refused to do so. The fire of God is not intended to destroy or torture those who made mistakes. It is the instrument with which He wants to destroy evil and purify us from sin.

But the fire announced by the prophets and lit by the Lord also saves, cleanses, and heals: it is the fire of His Word; it is His message of salvation; it is His Spirit, that Spirit who, on the day of Pentecost, descended like tongues of fire on the disciples (Acts 2:3-11) and has begun to spread around the world like a beneficial and renewing blaze. Now we can make sense of the exclamation of the Lord: “I have come to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were blazing already!” (v. 49). It is the expression of His burning desire to see the weeds of the world soon destroyed. Malachi announced: "The day already comes, flaming as a furnace. On that day all the proud and evildoers will be burned like straw in the fire" (Mal 3:19). Jesus looks forward to the realisation of this prophecy.

Finally, we come to the most troubling statement of our Lord in this entire passage, which comes in the form of a rhetorical question which our Lord Himself provides the answer: "Do you suppose that I am here to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division." A baffling statement because in the books of the prophets, it is written that the Messiah would be "the prince of peace"; during His reign, "peace will have no end" (Is 9:5-6); and St Paul writes in his letter to the Ephesians: "He is our peace" (Eph 2:14). Will the proclamation of the Gospel bring into the world, among peoples, in the families, harmony or discord?

It is true, the prophets promised peace for the messianic times but also announced conflicts and separations. When the Lord speaks of misunderstandings between generations (young and old) and among those living in the same house, He does nothing but quotes a passage from the prophet Micah (Mic 7:6). This should not come as a surprise because it has been prophesied. Conflict would be inevitable. There will be those who wished to preserve the status quo, hold onto sin, unjust structures, inhuman situations, every manner of vice, who would not wish to have these challenged or taken from them. Whoever feels threatened by the ‘fire’ will not remain passive. He will oppose the fire by all means. Truth and falsehood, virtue and vice cannot be bedfellows. This is the cause of division, conflict, persecution and violence.

Unity may not always be good. Unity must be sought from the Word of God, from the truth. Peace founded on lies and injustice cannot be favoured. It must at times provoke healthy divisions with much love and without offending anyone. One must not confuse hatred, violence, offensive, and arrogant words—which are incompatible with the Christian choice—with the honest challenge, disagreements that arise from following Christ. Don’t be disheartened when you meet with criticisms and challenges even from those you consider as family or who are members of your community. These are needed, even if painful, especially when we choose to live lives in conformity to Christ in a world that does not know Him and which has rejected Him.

I can see clearly now

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

One of my favourite feel-good go-to songs when I need an emotional uplift is that classic 70s song by Johnny Nash, “I can see clearly now.” For those of you millennials, Gen Z’s and Alphas who do not know what I’m talking about, here are the lyrics: “I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It’s gonna’ be a bright (bright), bright (bright), sunshiny day”.

I love the lyrics. Here is a person who has known the wet rainy days of life, when the sun is obscured by the dark clouds of pain, misery and loss. When the “hard rain” is pouring down all around, it’s easy to miss the beauty around you, the opportunities open to you. But everything changes when the rain stops. And there is a certainty that the rain will stop no matter how long we may have to endure it. We have arrived at a moment of clarity. Now that the rain is gone, the fog has dissipated, we can finally see the obstacles preventing us from the goals and dreams we have been pursuing without success.

This is what the faithful men and women of the Bible experienced, and the testimony of their faith is what we heard in the second reading taken from the letter to the Hebrews. It is through the piercing vision of faith that they were able to hope beyond hope, to keep on moving despite all the obstacles and setbacks, to persevere in spite of failure, and to reach their goals and beyond. What set them apart from other men and women were their faith in God. They did not rely on their own strengths or resources or human ingenuity. Rather, their motivation was rooted in a deep trust in a God that they believed would always keep His promises, and He did, even going beyond their expectations. Unsurprisingly the story of Abraham whom we call “our father in faith” has a prominent place. Abraham is proposed as a powerful model of Christian faith because his whole life was lived as a pilgrimage. Even when he was in the Promised Land of Canaan, he recognised that this was not his true homeland, but only a sign of it. It points beyond itself – as all signs do.

What would have made them give up their familiar surroundings, the security of family and kin or even their wealth? The answer can be found in the gospel. These heroes of the Old Testament saw a glimpse of what our Lord clearly promises in the gospel: “Sell your possessions and give alms. Get yourselves purses that do not wear out, treasure that will not fail you, in heaven where no thief can reach it and no moth destroy it. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” They were able to give up what most people would prize and treasure because there was something better awaiting them. Heaven is our ultimate destination and true home. Life may be filled with dark dreary and wet days, but the Lord promises that what is to come is only a never ending “bright sunshiny day.” The dark clouds in our life will disappear. This is not just wishful thinking or false optimism. Faith informs us that things can and will work out in the end. This is what the Book of the Apocalypse (21:23) assures us: “And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb.”

Having such a vision of the future does not mean that we should just sit on our hands and do nothing. Our Lord tells us that we should be like faithful servants who are constantly at work while remaining vigilant: “See that you are dressed for action and have your lamps lit. Be like men waiting for their master to return from the wedding feast, ready to open the door as soon as he comes and knocks.” This sounds like our Lord is imposing a dress code, perhaps the one thing that is most unpopular in any Catholic parish, as I noticed many of you flinch at the mere mention of it. But the reality is that the dress code imposed by the church merely reflects in a sacramental way the proper inner disposition of a disciple. To be “dressed for action” translates to have our “loins girded,” to be dressed for a journey, a new exodus as we follow Christ on the path of discipleship that leads to the cross. You do not have the luxury of dressing down or be in your most comfortable pyjamas. Christian discipleship is a call to action, not a license to loiter on your sofa and wait for others to do the work.

The second metaphor used by the Lord, which is having our lamps lit, makes a perfect segue into the parable of the servants who await their master’s return from a wedding feast. The parable clarifies the meaning of the metaphor. The lamps refer to the constant state of watchfulness and vigilance. No Christian, no disciple of Christ can be caught off guard. I’ve constantly repeated this ad nauseam: there is no sabbatical or ‘day-offs’ for Christians because the Son of Man is already at the wedding feast. When He returns at the unexpected hour, He will introduce the disciples into His banquet, provided that they are awake and ready. As an incentive and motivation for vigilance, the parable promises a reward for the faithful servants: the Master himself will be at their service. But for the steward who has decided to fall asleep on the job and take additional liberties especially in mistreating others, “his master will come on a day he does not expect and at an hour he does not know. The master will cut him off and send him to the same fate as the unfaithful.” Don’t feign ignorance. You’ve been warned!

So, if we find ourselves in this present life, unsettled, uncomfortable, sorrowful and suffering, then we have the assurance that this hardship is part of our journey into joy. We are all on our journey, an exodus from the slavery to sin, to the freedom of becoming heirs of the Kingdom. Of course, it is indeed the task of the whole Church, and of every Christian – to make that hope believable, to make the pilgrimage to God sustainable, to bring into the lives of the sorrowful the authentic joy of Christ’s victory over sin and death.

Christians are called to be pilgrims of hope, more so as we are reminded this year being a Jubilee Year with the above theme. We must be in a constant state of departing. We are people “on the Way.” Thus, our every action and existence in the here and now becomes more urgent when we do not lose sight of the fact that God may call us to account at any moment. Every moment, every deed, every decision ceases to be trivial when our lives are lived and shaped directly in and toward the light of eternity. If we forget this immediacy, we end up abusing our stewardship of this earth; and injustice and oppression becomes staple activities.

Our gospel tells us that the Son of Man will come when we do not expect – He will break into history not when it seems to be finished, nor indeed when all seems hopeless, but at a time that makes sense to Him. The rain will stop, the clouds will disperse, the obstacles will be removed, and the sun will shine brightly once more with no fear of night. But when He does come, He expects to find us working for that Kingdom which He alone can bring to completion. So, with our lamps lit, let’s get working, let’s be dressed for action, so that we can indeed face the future, and the present, with courage and joy.

Every night, as we conclude with Compline, the night prayer, we sing this beautiful hymn, Abide with Me, written by H. F. Lyte. What Johnny Nash merely suggested in his popular song is made apparent in the lyrics of the final stanza of Lyte’s hymn:

Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

Without God, all is vanity

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Vanity seems to be a vice that is not only confined to women but also equally plagues men. Coiffed hair, manicured nails, shiny smooth complexions that scream of repeated facials, and a wardrobe that could put Imelda Marcos’ shoe collection to shame. Vanity in this context means pride but vanity could also mean futility or the pointlessness of our actions and decisions or even life itself. The readings for today address the latter.

People often struggle with these questions, ‘What is life all about?’ ‘What is man’s purpose in this life?’ This is what the Book of Ecclesiastes seeks to address. The book is a philosophical essay attributed to Solomon, the proverbial philosopher king. The author wrote this book from the mistakes he made. He shares his own life’s search. The man had wisdom, riches, horses, armies, and women (that’s an understatement, he had lots of women). Yet, in the end Solomon declared everything to be vanity; in other word, pointless, worthless, meaningless, and purposeless. To pursue vanity is to chase after the wind. Starting with the well-known words, "Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity," and repeating them in the last chapter after having taken us through all the vanities of life, the book contains the important lesson he learns from God, in a sort of ‘roundabout’ way. The Book ends by giving us the antidote of vanity: fear of the Lord and the observance of the moral law. The secret to a purposeful life is: Without God, ‘all is vanity’. But with God, nothing is in vain.

In the gospel, we are given two examples of such earthly vanity - the greedy brother and the rich man in a parable told by the Lord. A man in the crowd puts this request to the Lord, “Master, tell my brother to give me a share of our inheritance.” The question sounds oddly familiar. I’ve seen how family battles over inheritance have set kith against kin. The law of primogeniture says (Num 27:1-11 Deut 21:15) that the first born gets a double portion. If you had two brothers, you divided the estate three ways and the oldest got two parts. So, guess which son this is. His request suggests that he’s the youngest son. Greed, envy and a sense of entitlement have blinded him to place money above kinship.

Understanding the context of the disgruntled brother sets the stage for the parable. There is a comparison and contrast going on between the two characters in the parable and two characters outside the parable. The rich man in the parable is compared to the unhappy younger brother in real life. Christ in real life acts as judge and arbiter, a role taken by God in the parable. Why is the Lord telling this parable about the rich man who had no greed to a greedy man? The Lord builds up the rich man as a good guy, a content man, someone you can easily identify with and would aspire to become. This guy is just the opposite of the disgruntled and unhappy brother. What do we learn? Both men thought that life consisted in ‘things’, that the end and purpose of their lives were the acquisition of such ‘things.’ Selfishness and self-satisfaction have blinded them to the bonds of fraternity and life’s ultimate purpose.

Both the disgruntled younger brother and the contented rich man, in their pursuit for wealth without realising that they risk losing everything in a single moment, proves the point that ‘all is vanity.’ There is a major reversal in the parable – the man who thinks himself clever is proven foolish; the rich man ends up being poor to God. Notice the poetic justice. The rich man, like the entitled brother and like so many of us, so obsessed in storing up treasures for ourselves in this place, acquiring knowledge, wealth, possessions and a list of achievements, had lost sight of the fact that our ultimate goal is our own salvation – making ourselves ‘rich in the sight of God.’ The rich man is not condemned for his wealth or even his greed. He is condemned for forgetting that the ultimate ‘end’ or purpose of his life is salvation. He had made no preparations for this. He was too busy investing in this world and that is the ultimate vanity.

This parable speaks loudly to our generation; it speaks of the purpose of life and what defines it? Have you been defining life in your career, your house, your stock portfolio, in terms of your achievements, the knowledge you possess, the popularity you’ve gained, or the assumption that you will live much longer? What is going to happen when you lose one or more of those things? What happens when you get laid off? What happens when the stock market crashes? What happens when you get some disease which takes away your physical ability? What happens when your friends leave you? What happens if another pandemic hits again? If you define life according to these things, you will be devastated. If these things have become the ‘end’ and purpose of your lives, the goals you are ultimately pursuing, the treasures you are seeking for, then the diagnosis is terminal – vanity of vanities, all is vanity!

St Thomas Aquinas teaches that the real end for which man is made is to be reunited with the goodness of God through virtuous behaviour as well as the use of reason in order to know and love God above all. In the words of St Augustine, “that is our final good, which is loved for its own sake, and all other things for the sake of it.” St Ignatius Loyola in setting out the First Principle and Foundation in his Spiritual Exercises writes, “The human person is created to praise, reverence, and serve God Our Lord, and by doing so, to save his or her soul. All other things on the face of the earth are created for human beings in order to help them pursue the end for which they are created. It follows from this that one must use other created things, in so far as they help towards one's end, and free oneself from them, in so far as they are obstacles to one's end.” Thus, the riches of this life are only potentially good. Their goodness is actualised when they serve the greater good – the glory of God and love of neighbour.

The irony we face is that many people would prefer to love the means rather than the end. Man need not just love bad things in order to be condemned to hell. As the old adage teaches us, “The road to hell is lined with good intentions.” Man can pervert his ultimate end by loving seemingly good things, which seem to bring happiness, and mistake these things for the actual, infinite source of happiness - God. Whenever we choose the lesser goods over the greater Good, whenever we convert the means into the end, whenever our vision is obscured to see beyond what lies immediately before us, then we are in trouble. Everything comes down to the choice: do we choose these things as a means to the end, or do we choose them as a substitute for the end?

Today, the readings challenge us to seek the Source of all Goodness, and not just the goods He dispenses. Desire the God of Miracles, not just hunger for the miracles of God. Long for the giver and not just the gifts. Our thoughts should be on the ultimate prize: Heaven. Things of this earth either lead us to that prize, or they may distract us from that and therefore should be placed in their proper place. When we trudge the road of happy destiny, we must remember that the road is just a means to an end and not the destination itself. Anything else is VANITY!