Where Peter is

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

In a popular caricature of first encounters with an alien race, the spokesperson of the extraterrestrials would usually make this request to the first contingent of humans they meet, a request that simply wishes to cut through all the bureaucratic red-tape: “Take me to your leader.” It’s ludicrous and even comedic because any human being can tell you that there is no single individual or body which can claim to be the sole leader of the entire human race. For us Catholics, however, the Pope comes close to being this.

“Ubi Petrus Ibi Ecclesia,” “Where Peter is, there is the Church”, is the famous quote from St Ambrose of Milan. This statement makes an important claim; in fact, an undeniably outrageous claim. It is saying “without the papacy, there is no Church.” Though many would contest and reject the veracity of this claim from without and even within the Church, popular culture has accorded him a special role, a caricature at best. One such popular image is that St Peter stands as a sort of gatekeeper (“or perhaps, even a goal keeper), guarding the Pearly Gates, the entrance to the heavenly realm – a seemingly ignoble job. Though hardly accurate, the image is derived from the gospel passage we just heard today, where our Lord bestows special prerogatives on Peter.

First, St Peter is given a new name, which in Scripture denotes a change in status or position. Our Lord spoke Aramaic and would have given Simon the Aramaic name Kepha (Rock) which is “Petra” in Greek and “Peter” in English. The Greek “petra” is feminine so the masculine “Petros” was adopted. If “Petra” refers to a rock, “petros” can refer to a little pebble. This has often been the contention of Protestants who see this title not as something honourable but a subtle insult, a diminuent of his status. Protestants argue that Christ is the only foundation (1 Cor 3:11) and to claim otherwise would be blasphemy. There is, however, no distinction in Aramaic, between Kepha the “Rock” and Kepha, the Apostle Peter, upon which Jesus would build his Church. Peter is Kepha, He is the rock. In fact, Syriac Christians, who continue to use Aramaic in their scriptures and liturgy, also claim that Jesus, the Rock of Salvation, conferred his own name and title on Peter. This must simply be the greatest honour accorded to any man.

Having been conferred a new title and name, St Peter is also given the metaphorical keys by Christ. We see the tradition of conferral of keys as symbolising the conferral of authority in the first reading. The significance of this passage in Isaiah is made clear in the gospel. As Jesus, the new King of Israel, re-establishes the Davidic throne He appoints Peter to the office of royal steward to rule “over the house” of His kingdom. As the steward of Christ’s kingdom, Peter is given the authority to bind and loose. These are keys not of any earthly palace but of heaven itself, which is another way of saying that the issue is linked to salvation. Of course, this entails more than the simpleton’s job of opening heaven’s door to the faithful. The keys were understood to represent legislative and judicial powers. These powers, Christ now transfers here to Peter. To say that St Peter has the key means he can declare certain things to be lawful and others unlawful; to prohibit or to permit, to excommunicate and lift the excommunication (as we had seen recently), to teach and to govern with the authority of Christ. In all this, he acts with the authority and power of Christ!

But the authority of the King, officially conferred here on his steward, does not end with the death of the steward. Our Lord would not have missed filling up this gaping loophole. The office of a royal steward was a hereditary position. Familiar with their history, the Jews certainly understood that the office of Peter would be filled by successors as was the royal steward’s office in Judah. The steward may die, but the office continues. In the case of the popes, they have received the keys through apostolic succession, one of the four defining marks of the Church. That is why the keys remain a prominent symbol in the coat of arms of every Pope.

The authority and the power of the Petrine Office, that is the office of St Peter in Christ’s kingdom, which is now handed down to his successors, the popes, is not just a point of contention with the Protestants who clearly reject it but has also become a scandal of sorts for Catholics. Irony has it that the rock, the foundation of our Church, has in fact become a stumbling block to critics, dissenters and persons who often treat their personal opinions as dogmas. In a world that prizes democracy, individualism, and personal autonomy, the Catholic teaching on the papacy often strikes many as outdated and dictatorial. Why should one man in Rome hold such authority over the universal Church? A belief popularly held by many is that no one individual should have unfettered powers of decision.

To the objectors who argue that this reading of scripture and tradition makes the Pope a dictator, we only have to look at the Second Reading from St Paul’s letter to the Romans: “How rich are the depths of God – how deep his wisdom and knowledge – and how impossible to penetrate his motives or understand his methods!” It would be pure hubris on our part to believe that we are wiser than God in such matters. Ultimately, in rejecting the authority of Peter and that of the Popes, one inadvertently but necessarily rejects the testimony of Scripture and in doing so we reject the authority of Christ; because Peter is his choice. Throughout Scriptures, we see God’s choices of leadership often been called into question because these do not conform to our own criteria of suitability for a candidate. In fact, God often chooses the least likely to succeed – the youngest or the oldest, the frailest, the most insignificant, the candidate most likely to fail. The papacy, similarly, is part of God’s mysterious plan, not human politics. Throughout history, popes have been sinners like us—some great saints, others (mostly) flawed. The choice of God often highlights his absolute sovereignty and gratuitousness, rather than a decision based on the extraordinary qualities of the candidate.

Let us not forget that it is Christ who builds the Church and not Peter. And therefore, the primacy of Peter is a primacy willed by God and not created by men, even though we are quite capable of choosing the wrong candidate.

If you have any confusion in your mind where that Church is, when faced with all those conflicting voices that inevitably always sound sincere and credible when claiming to speak the Truth, our Lord assures us, “I give you a marker, a beacon – look for Peter.” Peter will be a point of stability, a guarantee and an assurance that the Church will not be fazed even when everything shifts. In a market place filled with various ideological options and a countless multitude of opinions, where the search for certainty and stability is often frustrated, the Papacy provides us with clear direction. Where do I find the fullness of the Lord? Where do I find His Mystical Body, and not just a body that I have constructed? Then we only need go back his words, “On this rock, I will build my church.” “Where Peter is there is the Church.” Of course, the Holy Father remains utterly human, he sins as you and I sin. He may have opinions as we do. But when he teaches in his office as Pope, we can have confidence that Christ speaks definitively through him. He is indeed a gift from God, a sign of hope. In a fragmented world, this points to the one Lord, one faith, one baptism. May the Church, founded on this rock, shine as a beacon of truth and charity.

House of Prayer for All the Peoples

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The modern impression is that our world has become more multicultural and less tribal which would demand new ways of looking at politics, economics, education and even religion. This, however, is pure hubris and a myth. Globalism in our modern age has led to greater conformity rather than a respecter of differences and diversity. In fact, people who hold different views and positions from the mainstream are often ostracised and even persecuted. The ancients, despite our misgivings of their milieu, were more accepting of pluralistic ideas. Perhaps, the reason for this was that of survival. Harmony among peoples of different cultures, tribes and religions ensured that society for the most part could live in peace and conflict avoided.

It was during this milieu that Christianity emerged, a religion that defied strict categorisations. The two major religious world views of this time was universalism and particularism. By and large, the religious practices of the Roman-Greco world leaned towards universalism, that is the belief that all religions were substantially valid paths to enlightenment and salvation. This would explain the inherent syncretism that could take in the religious beliefs of various cultures and nations and mould them into a potpourri of religious beliefs and values which were mutually complementary. The worship of one god or other did not pose any offence as they were all mutually acceptable. It was basically a matter of personal choice.

On the other hand, Judaism posed a threat to this ancient liberal world view by insisting on a particularistic position that the God whom they worship was the only one true God, which meant that all other so-called “gods” were false, figments of popular imagination, or even worse, demons. It is no wonder that the exclusiveness of the Jews evoked hostility and resentment towards them.

Christianity was born out of a particularistic Judaism amidst the aforementioned diversities of a universalistic pagan world. It was initially viewed as one of the sects of Judaism which contributed to it being the target of hostility, opposition and persecution. But the broad divisions between Jews and Gentiles became dissolved with the proclamation of the universal gospel of Gospel. In such a situation, how did Christianity advocate universalism, yet maintained its particularism inherited from Judaism? How did it present itself as an all-encompassing, yet not a polytheistic or pantheistic religion? How did Christianity break down the proverbial high walls which the Jews insulated themselves from contamination by the surrounding pagan unclean world? We can see that this was not merely a radical Christian innovation but a long thread of God’s plan of salvation for His people. God’s invitation often surprises us by reaching beyond our expected circle of familiars.

Today’s readings invite us to ponder this expansive mercy of God, especially as we reflect on the tension between particularism and universalism in Catholic teaching.

The First Reading from Isaiah 56:1, 6-7 proclaims a bold vision: “for my house will be called a house of prayer for ALL the peoples.” The prophet speaks of foreigners who join themselves to the Lord, keeping the Sabbath and holding fast to the covenant. God promises to bring them to His holy mountain and make them joyful in His house. This is no mere tolerance; it is joyful inclusion. Israel, God’s chosen people exists not for itself alone but as a light to the nations. The particular vocation of Israel did not mean exclusion but was the foundation for a greater universal call. What was prophesied of Israel is now fulfilled in the Church, the new Israel. The Church was established as “lumen gentium” (light to the nations).

In the Second Reading taken from Paul’s letter to the Romans, the apostle had to defend the gospel of Christ which was intended for both Jews and Gentiles from the attacks of Judaisers, a group of early “Christian” teachers who insisted that the Gentiles had to become Jews (receive circumcision, observe the Mosaic law) before they could be lawfully admitted into the Christian family of the New Covenant of Christ. Paul, however, fundamentally disagreed with them. He, the Apostle to the Gentiles, speaks of his ministry to the nations to provoke his fellow Jews to jealousy and ultimately to their salvation. “God never takes back his gifts or revokes his choice.” God’s fidelity to Israel remains, yet His mercy extends to all, including those once considered outsiders. This is the Catholic balance: God works through particular means—the election of Israel, the Incarnation in a specific people and time—yet His saving will is universal.

The Gospel story dramatically brings this tension to life. A Canaanite woman, a Gentile from the region long associated with Israel’s enemies, approaches the Lord. “Sir, Son of David, take pity on me. My daughter is tormented by a devil.” At first, the Lord seems to embody uncompromising particularism: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.” Yet, this woman persists with humility and faith and argues: “even house-dogs can eat the scraps that fall from their master’s table.” Our Lord marvels, “Woman, you have great faith. Let your wish be granted.” And her daughter is healed instantly.

What are we to make of this? In Catholic theology, we reject both extreme universalism and narrow particularism. Extreme universalism—that all will be saved regardless of response to grace—undermines human freedom and the seriousness of sin and conversion. It is true that God bestows things on us without measure. It is true that He wishes the salvation of all. It is certainly the gospel truth that Christ died not just for a few but for all. But it is not true, that we can presume that such salvation is guaranteed without any effort on our part, without any true conversion of the heart, without any transformation, conversion and sacrifice that comes from the core of our being. God bestows the grace of salvation and offers it to all of us, but now we must be willing to give ourselves entirely to him, without calculating, without stinginess.

Even if we believe that God wishes save all mankind and not just a few selected elites, the Church affirms that salvation comes through Christ alone, and we are called to proclaim Him explicitly. The analogy that all rivers flow to the sea cannot be applied to a pluralistic view of religion, that all religions, all paths, ultimately lead to salvation. Only Christ is the one path that can lead to salvation whether we acknowledge this or not for He is “the Way, the Truth and the Life.” Yet we also affirm the universal salvific will of God (cf. 1 Tim 2:4). How do we reconcile this? The Catechism quoting the Second Vatican Council teaches that “every man who is ignorant of the Gospel of Christ and of his Church, but seeks the truth and does the will of God in accordance with his understanding of it, can be saved” through the grace of Christ working in mysterious ways. These are “extraordinary” means only known to God alone. It is always safer to take the known “ordinary” path which is the Church and baptism is the doorway that leads to salvation. This is the reason why we must evangelise, not because we do so from a position of arrogant superiority but from authentic pastoral charity.

Particularism reminds us that God chooses specific instruments: the Jewish people, the Catholic Church as the ordinary means of salvation, the sacraments, and personal faith. These are not barriers but bridges. The Canaanite woman shows us that great faith can cross boundaries. Our Lord did not lower the standard; He recognised authentic faith expressed in humility and persistence. Her “crumbs” became a feast of grace.

In our times, this has profound implications. We live in a world of divisions—ethnic, ideological, religious. Some Christians retreat into a defensive particularism, fearing dilution of truth. Others embrace a vague universalism that treats all paths as equally valid, ignoring the uniqueness of Christ. The Catholic position holds the tension: We are particular in our fidelity to the fullness of revelation in the Church, yet universal in our hope and outreach. The Church is not a club for the righteous but a hospital for sinners, a house of prayer for all peoples.

The Church has indeed become “a house of prayer for ALL the peoples.” Where the Temple of Jerusalem failed in attaining this ideal, the Church has succeeded. If we are beneficiaries of the mercy of God which we did not merit; we must also become its heralds. May the Lord, who heard the Canaanite woman’s plea, grant us the grace of persistent faith that remains steadfastly rooted in Christ and a love that is expansive enough to welcome all to our Father’s house. May His house truly be a house of prayer for all peoples, beginning with me, with each of us.

He will raise up the lowly

Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

In most action movies, from Avengers Endgame to X-Men Apocalypse where Jean Grey unleashes the full extent of her godlike powers, there is a common use of a storytelling tool known as Deus ex Machina, which literally meant, the god from the machine. In Greek theatre, actors who play gods would be introduced to the stage and play by either being lowered from a crane like device or raised from a hidden platform below the stage, making a sudden, almost miraculous, appearance. The introduction of this figure is intended to turn the tide and change the inevitable outcome of the story line. A seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly or abruptly resolved by an unexpected and unlikely occurrence. This functions to resolve an otherwise irresolvable plot situation, to surprise the audience, to bring the tale to a happy ending. Some have accused this as a form of lazy storytelling, but for us Christians, the story of salvation in Scripture is precisely all about how God intervenes at the very last moment to transform the outcome from an otherwise certain defeat to undisputable victory.

The first reading taken from the last book of the Bible repeats this theme that undergirds every significant turning point in the bible. Just when all seemed lost and evil seemed to have triumphed over good without any chance of a “remontada”, God enters the scene and amazingly rewrites the final outcome of the story. The woman in labour, in her most vulnerable moment, is rescued from the clutches of the towering gargantuan planet swallowing dragon. The enemies of the people of God would cry foul and even accuse God of cheating, but the truth is that our sovereign all-powerful, all-knowing and all-Merciful God has already willed this ending right from the start. Don’t take my word for it. Just read Genesis 3: “And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.” Both the conflict and the ending have both been written. We often believe that any good player would keep his deck of cards to himself without revealing his trump card. But God has made no secret of His plans. He has revealed this through history and through the prophets. It is just us mortal who often doubt that He has the winning hand, often trusting in our own senses and resources rather than in His mighty power.

In the gospel, we have Mary singing her beautiful song of praise where she redirects all praise to God, famously stating that God “has looked upon His lowly handmaid.” In the Magnificat, she redirects all glory to God, acknowledging her "lowly" state while magnifying His power. By recognising that her greatness stems entirely from God's grace, she models for all of us a perfect, faithful surrender. Her song is an ode to the theme of Deus ex Machina - She sings of a total reversal of how we would expect the story to end if history was allowed to just run its natural course, but instead we have a God who scatters the proud and exalts the humble, filling the hungry while bringing down the mighty. Just like a writer bringing in a powerful outside force to save a story, God intervened in human history through Mary. It is a song about God stepping into human affairs to radically change the world's order and the tale of its ending.

For those who have grown used to seeing the world as it is instead of seeing it as should be, to those of us whose eyes have not been adjusted, the light which Mary’s song casts is blinding and disorienting. It moves the earth under our feet, it causes us to stumble from our prideful heights. Our eyes are still fixed on the way of power, success, wealth, and brutal self-exertion and self-magnification. Our feet are still planted on the sand of our own glory. But Mary’s little way sees clearly in this dawn of light, and deftly turns our attention heavenward. We look up not because we can’t imagine ourselves taking our eyes off her but we are looking in the direction which she is pointing us to. Think of her person, her humble existence, her glorious assumption, as a sign pointing to our final destination which is God. That even in death, at the end of our earthly pilgrimage which feels like a cul de sac, death is not a dead end but a radical transformation of life, as the priest prays during Masses for the dead, that at death “life is changed, not ended.”

But we get to witness this wondrous mystery even now. We don’t have to wait till we are dead before we get to see the wonder of how God intervenes in our lives. Think of the world in a story as being trapped in a hopeless, unsolvable situation. This "unsolvable problem" is human sin and death. Every one of your stories holds scars. Every life collects chapters we wish we could erase — moments when shame screamed louder than faith, when we questioned our worth, or when the future felt permanently closed. Yet grace has always whispered a different ending: “You’re not finished.” Society says, “If you mess up, you start over from zero.” But God says, “If you mess up, I’ll meet you at zero and start something new.” When we lose our way, God writes around our detours. When we fail, He folds failure into the fabric of redemption. When we give up, His pen doesn’t pause. It just turns the page.

If you believe that all of this is impossible, remember that the Assumption of our Lady is the ultimate example of how all this is possible. It shows God rescuing Mary from the normal rules of human death and decay by a direct, divine act. In a sense, it is the ultimate "divine intervention" and the climax of Mary's life story. No Marvel hero is going to turn up to save the day because there is none. But God will. Lord willing, the rest of us will receive our full triumph - and the full effect of Christ's victory over death - when our own souls are reunited with our glorified bodies at the end of time.

Courage! It is I!

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Does God continue to manifest Himself to us? I guess many of you would agree that He does but you would also personally desire for an opportunity to witness this with your own eyes rather than rely on second-hand hearsay information. This explains why shrines associated with apparitions or any rumours thereof are often the most popular crowd pullers. We Catholics want a faith that is tangible, sensible and visible. It’s part of our human nature as sensible beings rather than purely spiritual beings like the angels.

Today’s readings provide us with glimpses into the way God communicates with us. In the first reading, we see the prophet Elijah witnessing a theophany of God which seems to be anticlimactic. After the dramatic phenomena of a strong wind, an earthquake followed by a fire, God reveals Himself in “the sound of a gentle breeze,” literally “the sound of silence”. Notice the venue. Mount Horeb is another name for Mount Sinai where Moses and the Israelites who had just escaped slavery in Egypt encountered God in this terrifying theophany of dark clouds, lightning, fire and earthquake. The two figures encountering God in two different ways is meant to be a stark contrast. God would not be confined to any form or expectation of ours. He is indeed the God of surprises, who deliberately reveals Himself to us in the most unexpected ways - sometimes in extraordinary ways but more often than not in the ordinary experiences of life. It is no wonder that both figures, Elijah and Moses would appear again at the scene of the Transfiguration - the manifestation of God not in the wind, nor earthquake, nor fire, nor even a gentle breeze, but in the person of Jesus Christ, the Beloved Son of God.

In the gospel, the scene of our Lord walking on water is another theophany, a visible manifestation of God, and not just a demonstration of Jesus’ miraculous powers. In fact, it is no exaggeration that the theophany experienced by the disciples was far greater than any recorded in the Old Testament, and even such a theophany would be surpassed by the Transfiguration of our Lord whose feast we will celebrate in just a few weeks.

The story uses two powerful signs to show Jesus is God.

Firstly, our Lord’s striding on the waves is an allusion to how God is described anthropomorphically as walking on the stormy sea (Job 9:8). But it also reminds us of how God imposes His creative will on the waters of chaos in Genesis Chapter 1, setting boundaries and bringing order to this destructive and unpredictable force of nature. But the Lord who created the heavens and earth is also the Lord who saves His people during the Exodus. In the first exodus, God walked through the sea, leading His people to safety and freedom. Our Lord in this gospel scene is the divine Saviour who brings the long-anticipated salvation of a new exodus. This chapter looks back on the first exodus as the precedent for a new, future exodus when the Lord would climactically redeem His people. Now, He leads us through the waters of baptism to a new life of grace and the Holy Spirit.

But the second and most important theme is that the story dispels any doubt about our Lord’s identity. To assuage the fear and panic of His disciples, the Lord announces: “Courage! It is I! Do not be afraid.” The original Greek phrase for "It is I" is literally "I AM". This is the holy name of God that He revealed to Moses at the burning bush (Exodus 3:14). This is at the heart of every revelation from God, it is not just merely the communication of some information but rather an invitation to enter into communion with Him. For how could we possibly come to love someone whom we do not know? That is why the answer to the second question of the penny catechism follows a logical progression from knowledge to union. To the question, “why did God make us?”, comes the answer, “to know Him, to love Him, to serve Him and be with Him in paradise forever.”

How about us today? Wanting to experience manifestations from the divine is understandable. We live in a world filled with noise, always seeking the next breaking news alert or dramatic sign. There is an existential human desire perennially looking for answers. This is why for people of faith, it is natural to want a direct, personal sign from God to prove He is listening. And this desire often draws us to private revelations—prophecies, visions, and apparitions.

It is here that we need to make a distinction between public and private revelation. For us Catholics, public revelation which is contained in Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition ended with the death of the last Apostle. God has already spoken completely and sufficiently, providing us with whatever is necessary for our salvation. Jesus Christ is the ultimate, final Word of the Father. As the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us, "In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways... but in these last days, he spoke to us through a son." And because public revelation is complete, no new visionary, message, or private revelation can ever add to, change, or correct the Deposit of Faith left by Christ and the Apostles.

So, what should we make of private revelations, especially those approved by the Church like our Lady’s apparitions and messages in Lourdes and Fatima and elsewhere? Are we to just dismiss these as unnecessary? Although belief in these messages is not necessary for our salvation, they are meant to augment and excite our faith and so motivate us to have a greater determination to follow Christ and His teachings. It is a help which is offered, but which one is not obliged to use. “Private revelations” do not add to or complete God’s definitive revelation in Christ but are meant to help believers live more fully by the Gospel. The criterion for judging the truth of a private revelation, therefore, is precisely its orientation to Christ Himself. If it leads us away from Him, then it certainly does not come from the Holy Spirit, who guides us more deeply into the Gospel, and not away from it. A word of caution - we must get our priorities right. It is not spiritually good to centre one's life around private revelations. They are good when approved, and may be used, but the core is in public revelation.

So, the next time you read or hear about some new private revelation whether it is in the form of some vision or apparition or miracle, do not be so quick to forget that you already have the true treasure which is Christ found in Sacred Scriptures and Sacred Tradition. Don’t let yourself be distracted and misled to place these extraordinary occurrences above what our Lord now communicates to us in ordinary ways, when we listen to the Word of God, read the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and participate in the sacraments, especially in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood. Remember, God is not only to be found in the extraordinary circumstances like the wind, an earthquake, a raging fire or a vision, nor is He only to be found striding across the waters as He once did, but He often manifests Himself most intimately when He sits quietly invisibly in the boat, the Church, by your side, as you weather the storms of life. And in the hull of the boat, the bosom of the Church, you will hear Him speak again: “Courage! It is I! Do not be afraid.”

Not enough becomes more than enough

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The second reading is worth a second, a third, perhaps repeated looks as it is one of the most beautiful and powerful assurances of God’s abundant love. St Paul first gives seven hardships and trials which cannot cut us off and then adds another seven hostile powers which are powerless against the love of God. The list is certainly not exhaustive. You can throw in anything imaginable and unimaginable into the list and it would stick. The number seven is clearly symbolic to represent completeness and perfection. The message is clear and couldn’t be stated better: there isn’t anything, absolutely nothing, that can separate us from the love of God.

We can sometimes point to things outside of ourselves and claim that they are pulling us away from God, or that He is pulling Himself away from us, neither of which is true. He never stops offering His love to us and nothing that happens to us can break that bond. It is important to note, however, that there actually is one thing that can ever separate us from the love of Christ – ourselves. Our unwillingness to accept His love by turning away from Him and freely choosing to sin pushes us away from His love, and in the case of mortal sin, we separate ourselves completely from His love.

In the gospel, we have the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fish followed by the feeding of the multitudes. Except for the Resurrection, the multiplication of loaves is the only miracle told in all four Gospels. Before our Lord works this amazing miracle, we see two obstacles coming between the Lord and the people who are seeking Him out like those thirsting for life giving water in Isaiah’s prophecy. They are hungry and thirsty for His teachings. They are hungry for His healing power. They are hungry for His presence. They refused to leave Him alone and would readily make the long track on foot to ambush His retinue as they set foot on shore. But the Lord also knows that they are physically hungry for food. Man does not live on bread alone, but neither will he survive on fresh air and sunshine alone. And so, our Lord “took pity” on them and took immediate action without dismissing the hungry crowd by hiding behind the most common excuse, “It’s none of my business. I can’t solve every problem. I can’t save the whole world.” But the truth is that Jesus did come for this purpose. His mission is to save the world.

The first obstacle, which is actually a most common excuse for indifference, is limited resources. Here we witness the clash of two economic models - one of scarcity versus one of abundance. The disciples view this issue from the lenses of scarcity and their diagnosis and prognosis seem logical and understandable. In traditional economics, scarcity is the main problem. We have limited resources to meet unlimited wants. It leads to competition, high prices, and prioritisation. Since there isn’t enough to go around, the disciples concluded that Jesus and His cohort should be the first to be fed. They leave the crumbs, if any, for others.

But our Lord’s starting point is the economics of abundance because this is how God always acts. This may seem disingenuous. How can you give what you do not possess? Well, this is true if we are still using the economic model of scarcity. In a scarcity mindset, a pie is a fixed size. If someone takes a big slice, you get less. In an abundance mindset, you bake more pies or share a recipe so everyone can eat. This is what our Lord did in today’s gospel, which only God alone can do. So, the miracle of Jesus is not so much just a sign of Christ’s preferential option for the poor and His use of economic justice to ensure that everyone has an equitable slice of the cake but a sign of Christ’s sacramental economy and the multiplication of grace. He gives gratuitously without demanding for any payment or compensation. This is how He invites the thirsty and hungry to come to Him in the first reading, without expecting any payment or charging any cost. Graces and blessings can’t be bought. He will not deny anyone who comes to Him hungering and thirsting for the life of grace.

But the second obstacle appears to be a harder one to surmount. His disciples are acting like a barrier, goal keepers, to Him sharing His graces with the people. They attempt to push the responsibility of being fed back to the multitude, abdicating theirs, and also preventing our Lord from further ministering to them. Instead of seeing the crowds as a hungry flock waiting to be fed, both spiritually and physically, they saw the latter as a burden. Here we see once again the tentacles of sin at work - sin which attempts to separate us from the love of Christ.

The disciples have forgotten - and we should be careful never to forget - that they are meant to be stepping stones to heaven rather than stumbling blocks for others. A true disciple’s job is to act as a bridge, not a barrier. They are meant to guide people toward a closer relationship with Jesus. Yes, it is true that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ, but the disciples were doing a pretty good job at attempting to separate the crowds from their Master. They thought they were doing Him a favour, but they were not. He had come to seek out the lost, feed the hungry and thirsty, liberate those who are imprisoned by their disordered passions, and pour out His abundant life on those who desire it more than life itself.

We may not have the benefit of witnessing the miracle of the multiplication of loaves but the Lord continues to feed us spiritually through the Eucharist. I know many of you can recall how painful it was to be excluded from Masses and Holy Communion during the Covid 19 pandemic -how separated you felt from the Church and the sacraments. Yet, so many have chosen to separate themselves from the Eucharist every Sunday even when there are no longer any restrictions preventing them from coming. It is no longer a matter of safety or a situation of emergency but rather now, a personal choice. They have chosen to separate themselves from the Eucharist and from the Eucharistic Lord, without any good reason.

The Eucharist has much to teach us about living a life imbued with abundance rather than complaining about the scarcity. How can something so little, so insignificant, contain all the power of creation? How can the finite contain the infinite? For this is how God works. It is how Christ shows His life in us. We have to learn, as the disciples had to learn, to see abundance rather than scarcity, plenty rather than lack, promise and hope rather than despair. In our consumer culture, this is a hard lesson. There is never enough time, never enough money, never enough energy. We can quickly get bogged down in all the “more” that we know we want: more happiness, more money, more stuff.

But in the hands of Jesus, not enough becomes more than enough. That is the way that our Lord wishes us to live: in generosity, in hope, and in trust, not in our resources or our own strength, but in His. Let us be stepping stones for each other and for others so that they may find their fulfilment in Christ and not in some cheap fake substitute which the world promises. And should you too suffer from sickness, failure, persecution, or rejection, never forget, never doubt for a second, that “neither death nor life, no angel, no prince, nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power, or height or depth, nor any created thing, can ever come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Guess how much?

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of my favourite comedians is Hong Kong born and now USA based Jimmy O. Yang. One of his most poignant jokes which had me rolling in laughter while nodding my head in agreement is his observation that while most people in the West brag about how much money they spend, Asians love to brag about how little they pay. This best describes my usual exchanges with Fr Bona on my latest acquisition on the Shopee app. After showing him the item I will gleefully ask, “Guess how much?” The cheaper the item, the bigger the boast. Fr Bona will then roll his eyes in disgust because of his disdain for my predilection for cheap bargains.

If what Jimmy Yang says is true about Asians, most would be rolling their eyes in disbelief after hearing the two parables of our Lord. Instead of paying below market prices, the protagonists of the two tales make the seemingly imprudent decision of paying not just “full price,” but over and above their actual value. The protagonists in both stories are willing to part with their entire wealth, possession and everything they own just to buy an item without consulting an expert assessor to determine if this is a good “buy.”

Some measure of risk is to be expected in any endeavour, but this seemingly impulsive decision and action seems altogether preposterous in the eyes of any right-minded person, more so if you happen to be Asian. But both these imaginary characters are convinced that the value of the item which they desire and seek to possess far exceeds anything else which they treasure and possess. Their decision is not governed by the common sense question, “how much am I willing to give up?” The only question which matters is “how much more do I gain?” The point which our Lord is trying to make is that the kingdom of God is so valuable that losing everything on earth, but getting the kingdom, is a happy trade-off.

The apostle Paul expresses this very idea in Philippians 3:7-8, ‘Whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.”

The point here is not that you have to buy the kingdom or barter for the kingdom or negotiate for the kingdom or work hard to earn entry into the kingdom. The kingdom of heaven which is Matthew’s Jewish euphemism to express the same idea found in the other synoptic gospels - the Kingdom of God - is received without pay. The Kingdom of God is not a geographical location or domain. It primarily speaks of God’s reign or rule, not just in the universe but more importantly in your hearts, the place where man expresses his freedom. For God to reign in our hearts, it is something which we must assent to. He cannot and will not compel us and that is why it is hidden until discovered through our repentance and conversion.

And so, it is priceless in that the kingdom is not for sale. No amount of wealth or sacrifice would be enough to buy it. So the point here is that the people who wish to receive the kingdom, should treasure it more than everything else. Yes, you don’t buy it. You can’t buy salvation. You get it freely because you want it more than you want anything else. In other words, there is a condition for having the kingdom—for having God as king and sovereign ruler of your entire life —but the condition is not wealth or power or intelligence or eminence or the amount of good works and devotion you rock up. The condition is that you prize the kingdom more than you prize anything else. For God to rule in your life, you must desire it above all else! You must hand over the keys to your heart. The point of selling everything in this parable is simply to show where your heart is. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).

This is the reason why every Christian, just like Solomon in the first reading, must desire and seek out the wisdom necessary to discern between what is good and evil, what is of value and what is valueless, what is authentic and what is false. Discernment is the ability to see beneath the surface. It helps you spot the difference between a pretty lie and a hard truth. Without discernment, we would always find it impossible to discover the hidden treasure and pearl of great value which is the Kingdom of God. Instead we will be desiring for all the things that distract and lead us away from that goal.

But discernment is just the first step. This must ultimately lead to action. Knowing what is right is not enough. You must also obey and do what is right. What good is it to know the truth if we fail to act accordingly? This was the problem of Solomon. He was praised and admired for his God-given wisdom, even by unbelievers. But not putting that wisdom into practice led to his eventual downfall and his wayward life. Solomon is biblical proof that even true discernment can give way to a destructive self-delusion. Disobedience inevitably undermines discernment. The only way to guard against that is to be doers of the Word and not hearers only. Notice that the two protagonists in our Lord’s parable did not just give a correct appraisal of the value of the objects they discovered. They immediately took action by selling everything they owned to buy those prized objects. There is no use in admiring something from a distance but then hesitate to take action because the decision appears too costly.

Both discernment and acting upon it are essential. But we must do so cheerfully and not regard it as overly burdensome. Notice that the man in the first parable was not driven by cold duty. We are told by the Lord that he “goes off happy!” He happily disposes all his wealth to buy the field where the treasure is buried. He did not complain about having to give up everything to acquire that field. All that he did, he did so willingly and joyfully. That is how we welcome God’s Kingdom, His rule into our lives. The only way we can surrender to Him is to do it joyfully and willingly after having recognise that He is the greatest and most prized treasure in our lives. We do it because we want to and not because we were forced to. That’s the big difference. The loss of earthly things for the sake of the kingdom is not sad. It is not sad when we have Jesus. It is a blessed privilege. Why were the martyrs in the past willing to give up everything including life itself? Here is the answer: For the joy of it.

We live in a world that has been inundated and saturated with information, technology, science and the wonders of AI. But there is something which the world’s most advanced AI cannot do. It cannot help us discern what is of value and what is not. Only our Father in heaven can reveal such mysteries to us who are mere children. Discernment, therefore, requires docility instead of stubbornness, obedience instead of reckless disobedience, self-conquest instead of prideful self-determination. In a world of competing allures and possibilities, may we discern wisely and recognise the immense worth of the Kingdom of Heaven and joyfully take decisive action, gladly letting go of lesser things to secure it. Once our hearts are captured, we will not begrudgingly give up everything but instead do it happily because we know that it is a happy trade. Let us share the gospel of Christ while asking: “Guess how much?” And then enthusiastically tell our hearer, “It’s priceless but free!”

Find peace through His strength

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of Donald Trump’s defining ideologies which is the foundation of his military and foreign policies is “peace through strength.” He argues that America has often been bullied, exploited and manipulated in the past because it had demonstrated weakness instead of strength, a readiness to surrender and compromise instead of fighting to win. Sounds absolutely logical and the proof is to be found in the successes he has racked up in his administration’s foreign policies governing economic relations, internal, regional and international security. If you can’t get your enemies to like you, you could at least get them to fear and respect you. As he humorously and unabashedly declared as he walked into a room of world leaders in the recent G7 summit, “I am the Boss.”

As sound as this human doctrine appears to many of us, it has no basis in scripture, or at least, not in the sense the world understands strength and power. The notion of “peace through strength” is utterly foreign to the Bible. In fact, a quest for military strength is a sign of unbelief. Peace is the will of God for all creation and not something which could be wrought by human efforts alone, what more with a show of force and strength.

The story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden expresses God’s original intention for the world. Here we find a harmonious, nonviolent existence where there is room for partnership, love and creativity but not for deadly conflict. The disruption of peace was the result of the fragmentation of right relations, first of all with God, and then, with other humans and with creation itself. The parable of the wheat and darnel demonstrates this biblical truth. God as symbolised by the farmer only sows good seeds, all that is created by Him is good, seeds that would ensure a harmonious relationship between God and men and fellow men. God is not the author of evil. It is the enemy, the devil, who sows the seeds of discord, confusion and sin. God had no hand in this. And this is what we observe in today’s world, a mixture of good and bad, of light and darkness. As much as we wish to be cleansed and purged of the undesirables in our lives, we must endure them till the very end. The good news is that we won’t have to endure the bad for eternity. There will be a time of harvesting, of separating, of accounting, where the good will be vindicated and the evil punished.

The parable also makes a stark contrast between the patience and wisdom of the owner of the field and his servants. The servants are impatient to root out the darnel and they should have been rightly commended for their quick action but instead they are reminded by the prudent owner that this may cause greater harm to the wheat whose fate are intimately intertwined with the growing darnel. This shows us the nature of God which is expressly described in the first reading - God’s strength is found in His apparent leniency - “Your justice has its source in strength, your sovereignty over all makes you lenient to all..” This seems to be a paradox, perhaps one could treat this as the ultimate paradox - that God would manifest His strength by making Himself vulnerable. But isn’t this what the Incarnation and the Paschal Mystery is all about? The Creator of the Universe deliberately chose to become a fragile human being, from a baby being cared for by His human parents, to ultimately suffering the indignity of being sentenced and executed as a criminal, although He was wholly innocent.

The author of Wisdom continues by declaring: “You show your strength when your sovereign power is questioned and you expose the insolence of those who know it; but, disposing of such strength, you are mild in judgement, you govern us with great lenience, for you have only to will, and your power is there.” In a way, this is what frustrates us most about God. We measure Him by our standards as we believe Him to behave very much like we do - as if His kindness were as slight as our kindness, His forgiveness as reluctant as our forgiveness, His patience as fleeting as our patience. We would wish for Him to take out our enemies as swiftly as possible so that we would not need to tolerate their annoying and painful presence. We demand swift justice and any delay would be deemed as an injustice. If we were God in heaven, we would have grown impatient with people like us long ago. But, Thank God, we are not. The prophet Isaiah reminds us that “as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:9).

The God we meet in Scripture is a relentlessly patient God. He usually accomplishes His plans along the winding path. He fulfills His promises without haste. When we demand “Now,” He replies, “Wait!” “God is patient” means not mainly that God waits a long time, that He dilly dallies, but that God shows long-suffering kindness to sinners (Romans 2:4). The master in the parable protects the wheat by delaying the uprooting. God prioritises the safety and nurturing of His people over the immediate eradication of evil. His patience allows both the "wheat" and the "darnel" to grow together, giving every opportunity for growth, maturity and conversion.

This does not mean that justice delayed is justice denied. God does not ignore evil indefinitely. He establishes a clear, definitive boundary at the final "harvest" where justice will ultimately prevail. At the end of the parable we are told, judgment would come, as the darnel are collected with the good harvest and commended to destruction in the fire. God does not destroy them immediately; He does not forsake them. Instead, He reveals His true nature: “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). So, to the question on everyone’s mind: Why does full judgment tarry and mercy beckon? Because, unlike us, God is “slow to anger.” His wrath visits the unrepentant (Exodus 34:7), but only after taking the slow path. Meanwhile, His mercy stands ready to be offered, at any time and in any place. St Peter offers us this answer in his second epistle: “Think of our Lord’s patience as your opportunity to be saved” (2 Peter 3:15).

Understanding how God thinks and acts provides us with some important rules of life for our emulation.

First, leniency and generosity, is always a sign of strength rather than of weakness, just as it is always the stronger person who apologises first and takes the initiative to make amends.

Second, we must trust the process. Growth takes time. Be patient with yourself as you are called to be patient with others. The devil’s greatest weapon is despair, making you feel that all your sacrifices and efforts are futile, so that you will be tempted to give up before you get to see the end. We must possess the “good hope that after sin you will grant repentance” and St Paul reassures us that “the Spirit comes to help us in our weakness.”

Third, we must acknowledge that we cannot see the full picture until the very end. Present struggles are temporary. All mysteries will be revealed, all things will be made clear, all answers will be provided on the Last Day, the Day of Judgement. Until then, we need to accept blurred lines that colour much of life. In life, good and bad are often deeply intertwined. Patience means accepting that we cannot always cleanly separate or fix every situation immediately. And because we have a limited vision of others and ourselves, we need to learn to let go of the need to play judge and instead, trust in God’s omniscient wisdom and ultimate schedule. You will find peace through His strength.

The Harvest comes later

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The familiar story of the parable of the sower needs no further explanation as Jesus provides His own explanation a few verses after the passage we’ve just read and heard. If I were to stop here after stating the obvious, many of you would be pleased. Thank God, not another long, winding and convoluted homily from Father. But, let me assure you that your initial joy may be short lived. It may be a little winding, perhaps longer than what you are accustomed to, requires a great deal of patience, but that is the principal quality needed of a farmer who sows his seeds on his farmland. There are no instant results - no instant gratification.

Notice how most traditional cultures whose culture and livelihoods were tied to the soil, often make a big thing out of celebrating harvest festivals. Our brothers and sisters from Sabah and Sarawak celebrated their own respective versions of the harvest festival, which appears strange to many outsiders, since they are no longer farmers. The reason being that planting and harvesting mirrors the cycle of life. Scripture tells us that there is a season for planting and a season for reaping and in the next breath speaks of a season of living and dying.

The world celebrates the harvest. A good harvest means good feasting. We don’t have to go hungry - the farmer nor the consumer. But any good farmer will tell you that it isn’t so simple as making instant noodles in your kitchen when you have nothing else in your pantry. The good farmer doesn’t only know his crop. He knows his soil and as a good student of the land, he can attest that the farm teaches him to trust the unseen.

Farming teaches patience. Faith is planting the seed. Patience is waiting for the harvest. Trust is believing growth is happening even when you cannot yet see it. There is something spiritual and religious about the entire process which explains why many of the parables of our Lord have to do with farming. One would think that the Lord is preaching something which is familiar to the people and to Himself until we are reminded that He was a son of a carpenter, rather than a farmer, and that He had spent His adult public life as an itinerant preacher and teacher like the scribes.

But this agrarian theme goes back even further. At the beginning of the Bible, we see a God who is doing the planting, planting not just crops, but the stars and planets and orchestrating their movements, commandeering the waters, and then brings about life and eventually reaping the great harvest which is humanity. In Chapter Two of the Book of Genesis, God then entrusts this “job” to man, that he will henceforth be responsible for cultivating the land and tending the garden which God had initially planted.

What is the mystery which this farming theme wishes to reveal to us? I guess we learn from the parable and from farming that spiritual growth cannot just be an instant success story, it isn't an overnight miracle.

First, you need to cultivate the soil of your heart. You must proactively remove the "rocks" and "thorns" (everyday anxieties, spiritual complacency and sin) from your daily life to clear the way for growth. That is why the practice of regular confession and spiritual direction is so necessary. Frequent communion is an irreplaceable practice that would augment our spiritual lives and bring about spiritual growth. But just good food alone would not ensure a healthy life. A healthy lifestyle and regular detoxification are necessary to get rid of the flab and toxins in our bodies. Similarly, our spiritual lives require disciplined spiritual exercises like prayer, meditation, scriptural reading, study and a regime of regular confessions to ensure that we are spiritually in shape.

Secondly, we need to trust the process. In a culture that demands instant gratification, we often have little patience for waiting, persevering, and enduring the sacrifices and trials that beset us. The Word of God has inherent power, but it requires enduring through seasons of waiting and watering your spiritual life through prayer, study, and good works. Don’t walk out of the process, just because you do not see immediate results. I often tell my spiritual directees and penitents that the devil’s greatest weapon is despair. He sows the seed of despair in order to make us give up before we have seen the light at the end of the tunnel. I guess if any of us would have been in the shoes of the sower-farmer in today’s parable we would have walked out after witnessing the non-productive yields of the first few categories of soil. How often have we given up on a project or a person, just because we believe that our prayers and our efforts have been futile.

Lastly, we must trust and believe in the promise and guarantee which our Lord gives us at the end of this parable. In the first reading, we are assured by the Lord that “the word that goes from (His) mouth does not return to (Him) empty, without carrying out (His) will and succeeding in what it was sent to do.’ The harvest of spiritual peace and maturity is a promise, but it is meant to be realised only by those who bear fruit with perseverance. It is such a pity that so many give up so easily before staying around to witness the final scene, which is victory rather than failure, a rich plentiful harvest rather than a parched barren land devoid of vegetation.

This is what this farming theme teaches us. Some of the most important things in life happen beneath the surface, long before the first sprout appears and long before the harvest arrives. Though the going may sometimes appear to be tough and the waiting unbearable, let us not be too quick to give up on the work of salvation, for ourselves and for others. So, do the work. Trust the process. Trust the unseen. The harvest comes later.

Come to me, all you who labour

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The first reading taken from the prophet Zechariah is familiar in that it is quoted as the prophetic text which heralds our Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. A contrast is made within the text between the humble donkey which the Messianic king rides and the war chariots and battle steeds which are now abolished. This deliberate change in the mount of the king marks a time of peace instead of war. The hard gruelling work of war is over; the time of peace and rest is at hand. Well, it does seem to be rest time for everyone except the poor donkey who continues to carry the burden of his king. They say that there is “no rest for the wicked,” or at least for this poor animal

This seems to reflect the tension in our Lord’s invitation and promise, “Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest,” which comes with an additional catch, “shoulder my yoke.” Seems to be a contradiction - on the one hand, we are promised rest, but on the other hand, it comes with an additional burden, “the yoke”, although our Lord does promise us that His “yoke is easy and my burden light.” We would have preferred no burden at all to an easy and light burden.

The key to understanding this rest, is the Hebrew word sabat, which means "to rest or stop or cease from work." The origin of the Sabbath goes back to Creation. After creating the heavens and the earth in six days, God "rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had made". God used the example of His resting on the seventh day of Creation, to establish the principle of the Sabbath day rest for His people. God gave the Israelites the third Commandment (fourth in some versions). They were to "remember" the Sabbath day and "keep it holy." One day out of every seven, they were to rest from their labours and give the same day of rest to their servants and animals. This was not just a physical rest, but a cessation of labouring.

With the establishment of the Old Testament Law, the Jews were constantly "labouring" to make themselves righteous before God. Their labours included trying to obey a myriad of do’s and don’ts on the Sabbath. It is interesting to note that the Law was often described in rabbinical teachings as a “yoke”. But what really happened was that this yoke of the Law, which was meant to free them, turned out to be an impossibly heavy burden that had enslaved them.

The Law of Moses did not actually bring any real relief to the people. This was because it was merely an anticipation of Christ, the One who came to fulfill the Law, the Only One who could truly bring peace and rest to all. Because of what He did on the cross, we no longer have to "labour" in keeping the Mosaic Law in order to be justified in the sight of God. We can now cease from all our futile spiritual labours and rest in Him, not just one day a week, but always. And because Jesus, our Lord, is the Only One who can give us lasting rest, the day in the week in which we commemorate His resurrection, which Christians over the centuries have called “the Day of the Lord”, is now our new Christian Sabbath.

So, how can we experience this lasting rest? What our Lord proposes seems strange - we need to shoulder His yoke in order to find rest. Wouldn’t it be reasonable to believe that since Christ has carried the cross, we wouldn’t have to? Yet, it is He who issues this call to discipleship to all of us to take up our crosses … our yokes. A yoke was not created for rest; it was created for work. It literally has nothing to do with rest at all.

When Jesus invited the weary and heavy laden to come to Him and find rest, we would expect Him to say something like, “Take off the yoke - be free!” But our Lord’s solution for weariness was not to cast off the yoke; but rather to yoke ourselves to Him, to walk in step with Him. Those who were under Mosaic Law were said to be yoked to Moses. Likewise, those who call themselves Christians, should be similarly yoked to Christ. To be yoked to Him means to submit to His authority. Instead of being crushed by His authority, Christ offers us freedom and rest. This is a different kind of yoke, one perfectly fitted to support us. When we are yoked to Christ, He carries most of the weight. That doesn’t mean being yoked to Christ will always be comfortable, but it’s not supposed to crush us either. His yoke ultimately points to the cross. The cross will demand self-denial, but it also promises salvation.

Sometimes, coming to Church on a Sunday feels like a heavy burden, what more when you have to convince your children, your spouse, get them all ready for Mass and then have to brave the judgmental stare from the hospitality minister or other parishioners when you arrive late after the readings or sometimes, after the homily has started. Is it worth all the effort? Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay in bed, wake up late, and enjoy the rest you deserve on that one day of the week where you don’t have to be ruled by alarm clocks and a work schedule? Is it worth all the effort, heart ache, tension and sacrifice?

How can this whole routine be anything but restful? In fact, it seems to go against the obligation to rest from servile work on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation. But this is what the Code of Canon Law says, “On Sundays and other holy days of obligation, the faithful are obliged to assist at Mass. They are also to abstain from such work or business that would inhibit the worship to be given to God, the joy proper to the Lord’s Day, or the due relaxation of mind and body” (canon 1247). But assisting others to worship at Holy Mass does not violate this Law because at Mass your work is to worship God, and you are never called to rest from worshiping God.

Throughout the week, we strive, we work hard to achieve our goals, but on this special day, when our Lord ended His three days of rest in the tomb, we are asked to place all our burdens, cares and struggles at His feet. We are called to rest because God continues to work even when man ceases to do so. So, if you are feeling restless, distraught, discouraged or even perhaps at the edge of despair, put your shoulder into His yoke, so that He might bear all your burdens. Learn to walk yoked to our Lord, and you will find rest for your soul. This is His promise. “Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest.”

In the One we are one

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Most people would agree, and you don’t have to be a Christian to lend your support, that maintaining unity at any cost is generally considered unsustainable. While unity fosters cooperation, forced or blind conformity often demands the compromise of fundamental rights, personal identity, or core truths. True, lasting unity should be built on something much deeper, not just the suppression of disagreement.

Today, our Lord challenges any attempt at fostering weak unity based merely on societal pressure and group think. Group cohesion and communal unity are important but they cannot be our ultimate goals. As Christians, our ultimate goal is to grow deeper in our relationship with Christ and all other relationships, no matter how good or praiseworthy, must ultimately be subject to and take its cue from this relationship with Christ. The foundation of our unity is Christ as reflected in the motto of our Holy Father and his spiritual father, “In the One, we are One.” There can be no true unity if Christ is not part of the equation.

Our Lord explains that His gospel will inevitably force us to choose and this choice will be the cause of division. The proclamation of the kingdom will cause division not because the message is divisive or hateful but because of the ways people will receive it. Responses will range from full and open reception to lukewarm reaction and finally to hostile rejection, and this will lead to discord - even hostility - within families, communities and among friends. So, the “worthiness” of His disciples will be tested. The “worthy” disciple does not love father, mother, son or daughter more than Christ. That does not mean that we Christians should not love our parents or family members. We should. But what our Lord is insisting here is that loyalty to Him even before one’s family is the hallmark of true discipleship. The relationship offered to us in Christ is something which goes further and deeper than even the very closest human relationship.

The gospel of Jesus is not only about an ethical way of life founded on love and mercy, but it is above all about the person of Jesus himself. We are “Christians” not only because of our words and deeds, but because our entire lives have been reshaped and transformed into “another Christ.” As St Paul in today’s second reading tells us, “when we were baptised in Christ Jesus we were baptised in His death; in other words, when we were baptised we went into the tomb with Him and joined Him in death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the Father’s glory, we too might live a new life.” Because we are “joined” to Him in baptism, our Lord claims a special place in our lives, more important than our dearest ones and biological kin. Being a disciple is not a marginal aspect of my life, it is central.

If our relationship to Christ is what defines us, then our fate too is ultimately intertwined with His. That is why the next test of our “worthiness” is to be found in our willingness to take up the cross. “Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.”

The idea of taking up a cross in today’s context has been sanitised and trivialised. It is often used as a metaphor to describe bearing with life’s daily burdens and inconveniences, like a long wait in traffic, being subjected to the blistering heat, putting up with a difficult boss or spouse, enduring aches and pains. When your “cross” happens to be the most common cause of your complaints and griping, you would know that it isn’t the cross which our Lord speaks of. It’s self-pity. This is so far from the reality of the cross which our Lord had to endure. No, when Jesus says that the true disciple must “take up his cross,” He is not merely calling for acceptance of life’s little inconveniences and hardships. He is calling His disciples to give up everything, even their lives if necessary to follow Him.

The cross is a radical call to die to oneself. Taking up one’s cross or denying oneself is not something optional to Christianity. In fact, it is the defining action of Christianity. Denying self is not to be confused with denying something to oneself, whether material things, food, pleasure, or whatever. Wicked people often deny themselves many things in order to achieve their selfish goals or conquer their enemies. What Jesus meant by self-denial is far more radical than denying something to oneself. He meant that one must say no to oneself. All man’s sin and self-destruction centers in self-love, self-trust, and self-assertion. The cross means the opposite, it means “no” to self and “yes” to God.

But self-denial is not without value. Our Lord promises His faithful disciples, “If anyone gives so much as a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple, then I tell you solemnly, he will most certainly not lose his reward.” In this following of Christ, this union with God, we will ultimately share in the reward which Christ has won for us. It is true that now we must endure the trial of discipleship by having a share in His cross but later we will have a share in His glory. We can be assured that only in the One, the Only Begotten Son and Saviour of the World, can we be one.

Swimming against the tide

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

From the moment of our birth, we are plunged into a world which simultaneously expects us to stand out, yet fit in; encourages us to be an individual, but to behave according to the norm; desires us to be creative, but within the parameters of approval; demands that we bring about societal change, so long as we do not upset or offend those around us. This is at the heart of the modern paradox where we are taught to be unique and yet placed under so much pressure to conform. Society often commercialises "individuality." We are encouraged to express uniqueness through consumer choices (what we buy, wear, or post), while the underlying systems—education, career paths, and social etiquette—demand strict uniformity.

Unfortunately, even when it comes to religion, such prevailing currents subtly seduce us towards the lowest common denominator, never encouraging us to rise above or strive to achieve greater heights. When someone strives for perfection and holiness, he is immediately put down: “Don’t try to be so holy” or mocked and ridiculed with the label “holey moley.” This should not be so. The life of a Christian must always go against the flow. Instead of mediocrity, he is called by the Lord to perfection. Instead of just fitting in, he is called to stand out. That means risking putting your head on the chopping block.

I am reminded of G. K. Chesterton’s statement in The Everlasting Man: “A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it.” Likewise, a true Christian goes against the current of our sinful age; a false one is swept away by its swiftness. Any weak Christian can live like the world; it takes a vital, healthy faith to enable someone to stand on their convictions, firm against the tide of opinion and every fashionable and popular trend that draws our fancy.

In the first reading, we have the prophet Jeremiah bewailing his pitiful situation where he is being persecuted and hemmed in from all sides by his detractors, some of whom had been his friends. He complains that the Lord had ‘seduced’ him so that he cannot stop prophesying disaster. His suffering, pain and anxiety are real - there is no doubt about this. He understands that if he stops proclaiming the truth, the persecution will stop, his friends will return, the situation will normalise. The logical solution, the urge to survive, is just to shut up and fit in. But then instead of giving up and giving in, Jeremiah proclaims his faith: “But the Lord is at my side, a mighty hero …Sing to the Lord, praise the Lord, for he has delivered the soul of the needy from the hands of evil men.”

Rather than allow his emotional and physical torment to move him to abandon his mission, Jeremiah doubles down on his resolve to remain faithful, to persist in trusting God, despite all the challenges that are thrown at him. His story is a lesson for us too. When our hearts align with God’s values, we will view the dangers around us differently. Death, discomfort, and dire circumstances don’t have the same sting when we have God’s eternal perspective. When God’s values and our values align, we will understand what is most important and live out the purpose we were created for. Life is ultimately about seeking God’s approval and not men’s.

Throughout the gospels and especially in today’s gospel passage, our Lord repeatedly tells us, “Do not be afraid.” Do not be afraid of speaking the Truth; do not be afraid of intimidation from those who wish to silence you: do not be afraid of opposition, persecution and even martyrdom at the hands of your enemies; do not be afraid because we are of great worth in the eyes of God. At the end of the day, do not be afraid of proclaiming the gospel.

There is no denying that it is tempting to stop preaching the gospel or to soften the message in order to make things easier and protect ourselves from suffering and opposition. That’s part of the survival mechanism. But that should not be the goal of our lives. Our purpose is not just survival, getting by, avoiding conflict, being liked. Our ultimate purpose in life is salvation and nothing should ever get in the way of this even though this may mean walking a lonely path. Jesus gives this important reminder in Chapter 16: “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?” (Matthew 16:25-26).

It may seem for now that whatever is the Truth may be passed off by society as a lie, but we are assured by the Lord that those who bravely proclaim and defend the Truth will experience vindication one day. Even if the Truth seems obfuscated in our lifetime, one day, “everything that is now covered will be uncovered, and everything now hidden will be made clear.” In any argument, you don’t need to have the last word and make sure everyone knows that you were right. That’s exhausting and untenable. There will always be someone who disagrees with you. What is more important is striving to be right or righteous before God and we are assured that this will happen at the Final Judgment, where all lies will be exposed and all truths revealed, where the wicked would be punished and the innocent be vindicated. So, do not be afraid!

Our Lord reminds us in today’s gospel that the goal of a Christian witness is not just survival and personal safety but salvation. “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; fear him rather who can destroy both body and soul in hell.” Therefore, we should fear God more than our persecutors. Tell the Truth and risk the wrath of the mob. But tell a lie and risk the wrath of God. We should prefer the former to the latter.

At the end of the day, the real motivation for our decisions, our actions and our speech should not be the fear of public reaction but rather, the judgment from God. St Gregory the Great teaches “The further (the soul) is pushed out of human favour, the closer a neighbour he becomes to God.” Our Lord tells us that He will acknowledge us before His Heavenly Father, if we stand resolutely to acknowledge Him before His enemies. His enemies may harm our bodies, but God will save our souls. We may be “cancelled” by the angry mob, but we will be affirmed by our loving God. So, stand for what is true and good and morally right, and be saved from eternal damnation.

A Kingdom of Priests, A Consecrated Nation

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of the most common questions I get from Catholics, young and old, is this: “Why did God choose Israel out of all the nations of the world?” I guess this seems troublesome within the Asian context because we have so many great civilisations to boast of. If you belong to one of these great civilisations with its rich legacy of tradition and history, I’m quite sure you would feel a little envious at God’s choice. But an answer may be more urgent and pressing in the light of growing anti-semitism in both the East and West. Just like the Nazis did in the past, it is quite convenient and popular these days to blame everything on the Jews, the synagogue of Satan. So, the question “Why did God choose Israel out of all the nations of the world” requires a clear answer, if not merely to assuage our curiosity but also to see their role in God’s plan of salvation. Was the choice merely accidental or intentional?

The truth is, as we had heard in the first reading, God chose Israel to be a distinct, holy people not out of favouritism, but to serve His purpose: “you of all the nations shall be my very own for all the earth is mine. I will count you a kingdom of priests, a consecrated nation.” What does this mission entail?

Firstly, their election served to reveal the One True God in an ancient world dominated by polytheism and idol worship. Monotheism was a radical revolution in an age of institutionalised relativism, where every deity was as good as another, or as long as the people whom they protected flourished. The claim of divine election was less to do with an arrogant claim of a nation to be superior to others, which many nations have done so, but rather the assertion of the supreme authority and sovereignty of One God over all nations.

Secondly, the election of Israel is a preparation for the human lineage which will give rise to the Messiah. In fact, this is the primary mission of Israel, that is to be the tribe and family through which the Saviour, Jesus Christ, would be born. He was not just a national saviour for the Jews hoping to be unshackled from the chains imposed by Imperial Rome, but the Saviour of the whole world who came to free us from slavery to sin and death.

Finally, it is the universal mission of Christ that reminds Israel of its own universal mission, that it was elected to be “a light to the Gentiles”. God did not choose Israel just for their own privilege, but so that they could act as a "kingdom of priests" that would eventually draw all nations to Him. They were chosen to be a model to show all nations how to worship the One True God and obey His commandments.

But all the above could be said about any other nation on earth. So, why Israel? Why the Jews? There is no definitive answer that can be given beyond the fact that it was a gratuitous act of God’s love and mercy. God's choice of Israel was to fulfill the promises He made to their ancestors, such as Abraham. In the story of salvation, God chose persons before He chose nations. In the Book of Deuteronomy, we hear God giving His reason or non-reason for this simply inexplicable choice: “For you are a people holy to the LORD, your God; the LORD, your God, has chosen you from all the peoples on the face of the earth to be a people specially his own. It was not because you are more numerous than all the peoples that the LORD set his heart on you and chose you; for you are really the smallest of all peoples. It was because the LORD loved you and because of his fidelity to the oath he had sworn to your ancestors” (Deut. 7:6-8).

While the Israelites struggled with unfaithfulness throughout the Old Testament, their “chosen-ness” set the foundation for the New Covenant. Jesus (who was Jewish), the Apostles, and the first Christians were all part of this chosen people. And in today’s gospel, we see an affirmation of the divine election of Israel with the selection of twelve Jewish men. The Lord’s choice of twelve leaders was symbolic and suggestive — even provocative. For a Jew of the first century, it recalled the twelve tribes of Israel, the tribes now dis­persed among the Gentiles and assimilated into other peoples. The gathering of the scattered was seen as an essential component of God’s salvation and the work expected of the Messiah.

This begs the next question: Is the modern state of Israel the Israel of the Old Testament (and of the New), who is the beneficiary of all the above promises and mission? The Catholic answer may surprise you. A simple answer is “No.” As simple as this sounds, it requires some unpacking. The Catholic Church views herself as the New Israel. The Church doesn’t simply replace Israel; rather, in a very real sense, the Church is Israel. It is the multi-ethnic and multi-national family made up of both Jews and Gentiles that the Old Testament prophets always said Israel would one day become. But rather than the old Israel whose membership was based on lineage, the members of the New Israel would be based on their relationship with Christ.

This does not mean that God has revoked with Israel. The Second Vatican Council (in Nostra Aetate) reiterated that God's original covenant with the Jewish people remains irrevocable and holds a special place in the mystery of God's plan. But now because of Christ, Gentiles or other nations have been grafted to Israel, the original People of God. Given that the Church truly is Israel, what practical consequences does this have for our spiritual lives? In a nutshell, it means that we have inherited the vocation of ancient Israel: we are called to be “a kingdom of priests, a consecrated nation.”

We normally think of priests as people who celebrate Mass and run parishes, but the office is actually much broader than that. A priest is essentially someone who mediates between God and humanity. He stands before God as a representative of the people and before the people as a representative of God. More specifically, in ancient Israel, priests taught the people God’s laws (Leviticus 10:11) and blessed them (Numbers 6:22-27), so that’s what the Israelites were supposed to do. In other words, they were supposed to evangelise the rest of mankind and bring them back to the worship of the One true God.

And as the New Israel, we now have this same vocation. In fact, the New Testament describes the Church in a way that calls to mind what God said about Israel in Exodus: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9).

So, as members of the Church, the New Israel, we are indeed privileged to be the Chosen People of God. Does that make us special or entitled? Hardly. As Spider-Man’s Uncle Ben rightly puts it, “With great power (or privilege) comes great responsibility.” We have a fundamental responsibility to share in the mission of the Church to preach the gospel in season and out of season, in whatever circumstances we may find ourselves, and bring others to Christ, thereby fulfilling our vocation as the New Israel to be God’s priestly people among the nations.

Memorial, Communion and Real Presence

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Year A

The readings provide us with three words which serve as the basis of our reflexion on the Eucharist.

The first word is “memorial” or as Moses uses the imperative command: “Remember!” The Book of Deuteronomy is a retelling of the most important event in the history of Israel, their deliverance from slavery in Egypt and their journey in the wilderness. The Passover meal was a ritual meal that celebrated the memory of this deliverance from Egypt. But when the Jews celebrate this meal, they bring God’s action into the present by asking for deliverance from whatever is harming their communities right now. By doing this they are not just remembering an event of thousands of years ago. Deliverance is a present experience; it is happening now.

Why is this important? It is the background needed to understand the Eucharist which was instituted by the Lord at the Last Supper. When the Lord celebrated the Last Supper with His disciples, they were following the ritual of the Passover meal, at least in part. But our Lord changed the whole dynamic by the words He used, shifting the focus from the Passover lamb to the bread and wine which He now describes as His own Body and Blood. There is no mention of the ritual lamb in any accounts of the Last Supper because Jesus is THE Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. No other sacrificial animal or gift is needed. Then he added the sentence that would change forever what the Paschal meal was all about for his followers. He said, ‘Do this in memory of me.’ “Remember!”

No longer would we Christians celebrate the meal in memory of the escape from slavery in Egypt. We would celebrate this meal in memory of Jesus who freed us from the slavery of sin by His death on the cross. That is why we explain the Holy Mass as a re-presentation of the One unique sin atoning, life redeeming sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. Re-presentation here does not mean symbolising something or someone standing in place of Jesus’s death on the cross. The key word is “present”. Every Mass makes present that sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. At every Mass, we are standing at Calvary, witnessing His crucifixion, agony and death. This is what we remember. That is why in the Collect of today’s Mass the priest describes the great Sacrament of the Eucharist as “a Memorial of your (Jesus’) passion.”

Remembering this should lead us to revere and worship Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist. The Eucharist is not just a ritual symbolic meal. It is Jesus who presides at the altar. It is Jesus who dies on the cross giving us His Body and Blood. Without such reverence, we risk condemning ourselves as St Paul warns us that “for anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself” (1 Cor 11:27). Such reverential remembering prepares us for the next word in our Eucharistic vocabulary: “communion.”

Communion is a very popular word these days, perhaps seen as interchangeable or synonymous with Synodality or conciliarism or unity. This is a nice idea but that is not the primary meaning of the Greek word “koinonia” which is translated as “communion” as we had heard in the second reading: “the blessing-cup that we bless is a communion with the blood of Christ, and the bread that we break is a communion with the body of Christ.” Communion is generally understood in a horizontal sense. A better translation of the word is “participation” which implies sharing something in common. What do we Christians share in common? St Paul in the second reading provides the answer - the Body and Blood of Christ. The concept of communion is above all anchored in the holy Sacrament of the Eucharist, the reason why we still today speak of the act of consuming the Eucharist as communion. So, the community does not make the Eucharist communion but it is Jesus in the Eucharist which makes our ecclesial community. The Eucharist makes the Church, as St John Paul II taught. Through communion, there is a participation, a communion, a commingling with the life of Christ. It is truly the one Lord, whom we receive in the Eucharist, or better, the Lord who receives us and assumes us into Himself. When we consume bodily nourishment, it is assimilated by the body, becoming itself a part of ourselves. But in the Eucharist, it is not we who assimilate it, but it assimilates us to itself, so that we become in a certain way "conformed to Christ", as Paul says.

Communion with Christ necessarily means communion with the members of His mystical Body. This is beautifully expressed in our Holy Father’s motto which is attributed to St Augustine: “In the One, we are One.” We all are assimilated into Christ and so by means of communion with Christ, united among ourselves. To communicate with Christ is essentially also to communicate with one another. We are no longer each alone, each separate from the other; we are now each part of the other; each of those who receive communion is "bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” (Gen 2:23).

Finally, understanding the Eucharist as both memorial and communion leads us to this question: “what is it” (the meaning of the word “manna”). What is it that we are asked to make a memorial of? What is it that we are asked to communicate and makes us enter into communion with Christ and His mystical Body, the Church? And the answer is given by our Lord Jesus in the gospel: “my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood lives in me and I live in him.” And this is the third and last word in our Eucharistic vocabulary – “Real!” We affirm that the Eucharist is truly, really and substantially the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, soul and divinity. This is what we affirm when we assent to the words of the priest or extraordinary minister of holy communion, “the Body of Christ,” with the Hebrew word, “Amen.” At the core of our belief in the Eucharist is that He is really present. When we genuflect before the tabernacle, when we kneel at the words of the consecration, when we say Amen before receiving holy communion, we are ultimately declaring: “Lord Jesus, You are here!”

Today, as we contemplate the mystery of the Eucharist, let us be led to worship Our Lord who lived not just two thousand years ago but who is even now “truly and really” present here in our midst and who now offers His Body and Blood to us so that we may be one with Him and He with us. Not only does this sacred meal allow us to enter into sacred time and bring a past event into the present, it also incorporates the future because we are always looking forward to celebrate the fullness of this meal in the heavenly banquet. Sacred events collapse past, present and future into one mysterious and eternal NOW. And so we echo the words of Eucharistic Prayer IV as we pray:

“Therefore, O Lord, as we now celebrate the memorial of our redemption, we remember Christ’s Death, and his descent to the realm of the dead, we proclaim his Resurrection and his Ascension to your right hand, and as we await his coming in glory, we offer you his Body and Blood, the sacrifice acceptable to you which brings salvation to the whole world.”