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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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.”
Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity Year A
The Most Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is central to the Mass. The Mass begins, ends, and is saturated with invocations to the Trinity. We sign ourselves at the beginning of every Mass in the name of the Holy Trinity and then receive a Trinitarian blessing at the end. Both the Gloria and the Creed are shaped and structured with the Holy Trinity at its foundation. In the Eucharistic prayer, the heart of the Mass, the priest (acting in persona Christi) prays to the Father through the Son, asking for the Holy Spirit to consecrate the gifts and then concludes with the doxology which makes this profound Trinitarian statement: “Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit..."
But today, I would like to draw your attention to one of the greetings by the priest at the beginning of Mass. People often ask me, “Why start the Mass with a ritual greeting? This sounds so stiff-and-official-like. Why not just start with a warm and friendly greeting like ‘Good Morning’?” Good question. This would, indeed, be the right approach if the Mass were nothing more than a meal with family and friends, but, in reality, it is infinitely more than that. The Mass is not an informal gathering of a group of people. It is a sacred moment before God. This is why the Missal gives the formal, stylised greeting that the priest is expected to use. If we believe the Mass is a representation of the Holy Sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross, you wouldn’t appreciate being greeted with a happy chirpy “Good Morning” as you contemplate our Lord’s suffering and death on Good Friday, would you? Since it is a sacred moment before God, then the formality and solemnity of the words should be befitting God, for the Eucharist is an anticipation of the heavenly wedding banquet which God Himself prepares for us.
As far as liturgical greetings are concerned, there are three options available. Each option highlights the special nature of our gathering for Mass. Today, I would like to consider the first option, the Trinitarian option. The priest utters these words immediately after the sign of the cross. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” As warm and as friendly as a “good morning” greeting sounds to common folks, the liturgical greeting is far more superior. It all makes absolute theological sense. We come for Mass not because of the priest (although truth be told, many people choose their priests. Fr Friendly Smile is always preferred over Fr Prune Face). We come for Mass not just to see each other. We come for Mass because of God. And it is only proper that the priest, the minister of God, should greet us in the name of God, the Most Holy Trinity. The Most Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and not Fr Michael who is now inviting us to enter into their intimate communion, the basis and foundation of all other communions.
This formula is based on the last words of Saint Paul’s second letter to the Church of Corinth (2 Cor 13:13) which we had just heard. It expresses the Church’s belief in one God who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It briefly sums up the very essence of the Christian life. This is a good reminder that the Trinity is not primarily the subject of intellectual discourse. No, the Most Holy Trinity is first and foremost, the object of our worship, of our liturgy. To grasp the Mystery of the Most Holy Trinity, we must do so on our knees, in humble adoration and worship. In this greeting, Saint Paul does not follow the order in which we normally name the divine persons of the Trinity. Rather, he first mentions Jesus, who is the Son before he names God the Father. This very unusual word order, unlocks for us the theology of Saint Paul about how we are saved. Paul begins the greeting by saying “the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ”. He uses the word “grace” to express the salvation event. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, our sins are forgiven and we are reconciled with God. Thus, it is through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ that we come to the Father. As Jesus Himself said, “No one comes to the Father except through me” (Jn 14:6).
Paul ends the greeting with the words “the communion of the Holy Spirit”. In the translation of the third edition of the English translation of the Roman Missal, “communion” replaces the word “fellowship”. Both words translate from the Greek word “koinonia.” It’s good to unpack this word because the word “fellowship” and the word “communion” have taken on very different meanings from the original “koinonia.” When we think “fellowship”, we often think of the potluck meals that conclude our gatherings and when we use the word “communion” it is almost always a reference to the reception of Holy Communion during Mass. But the original Greek word “koinonia” goes beyond such shallow and trivial meanings.
First of all, the expression “the communion of the Holy Spirit” reminds us of the intimate relationship that every believer has with the Holy Spirit. The Risen Lord pours out His Holy Spirit on each of us. It is because of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us, that we can call Jesus, “Lord” (I Cor 12:4); and it is in the power of the Holy Spirit that we call God “Father” (Gal 4:6).
Second, the expression “the communion of the Holy Spirit” also reminds us that the Holy Spirit gives to each of us different gifts for a purpose. Using these different gifts, we are to work together for the good of the whole Church and thus form one body, one communion of faith (I Cor 12:7; Gal 5:22).
Something else needs to be said about the syntax of this greeting. In the original Greek found in Saint Paul’s letter, the word “be” is missing, so it can be understood both as a statement of fact and as a wish. But now with our liturgy adding the verb “be” in the greeting, the Church is confident in declaring her faith in the Trinity – it is not just a wish but a statement of fact, a statement of faith. She is confident of the love of the Father who has called together His children into His Church and who has sent His Son so that by His sacrifice we may be gathered into a communion whose inspirer and unifier is the Holy Spirit. This is what happens at every Mass. In the liturgy, all three persons of the Trinity are taking us up into their life as the one God and forming us here on earth as the Body of Christ.
So, the next time you are tempted to walk up to the priest and ask him to change the wording of the Mass, so that it would sound less off-putting, less formal, more familiar and affable, remember this simple truth – the Mass is not about you, it’s not even about the priest, it is first and foremost about God, the Most Holy Trinity, whom we worship, who reveals Himself to us and the very same Holy Trinity who now invites us, unworthy though we are, into the community of Persons, where each is distinct and yet perfectly united. “Unity in diversity” is not just a pretty slogan. It is already a reality in the three divine persons whom we call God. The deeper we grow in union with God, the deeper and more authentic would our communion be. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”
Pentecost Sunday
Any discussion of the Second Vatican Council often exposes a bi-polarity within the Church. We are still living today in the aftermath of the Council - debate and discussion continues about the nature of the council, its inner workings, and the interpretation of the documents it produced. Spend enough time in the online Catholic world and you know this to be true. For some, it is the best thing since sliced bread was invented, an impetus for growth and change in the Church that had been far too long fossilised by its Traditions and man-made rules. On the other end of the spectrum, some view this Council as the most pernicious weapon of the Enemy, the portal by which the smoke of Satan had infiltrated Holy Mother Church, resulting in her decline and eventual destruction by promoting endless heresies and schisms.
It’s good to return to the intention of Pope St John XXIII who opened the Second Vatican Council with a prayer to the Holy Spirit to “renew your wonders in our day as by a new Pentecost.” What did he mean and how does this idea of a new Pentecost help explain some of the motivation behind the council? To understand the Council, one would need to revisit the story of Pentecost and what it means for us, the Church.
We see in both the story of Pentecost in the first reading and that of the first Easter in the gospel, the disciples in a somewhat similar situation, at least on the surface. In the gospel, the disciples were hiding in the upper room behind closed doors “for fear of the Jews.” This could be the best allegory to describe the position of many leaders within the Church during the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century. Since the middle of the nineteenth century, the Catholic Church had been on the defensive. In the battle against liberalism, socialism and communism it was anti-modernism that dominated its image. When you are in a defensive mode, you secure your defences, board up your windows, barricade your gates and surround yourself with a moat that prevents entry as well as anyone choosing to exit. But our Risen Lord can break through any defences as He did on that first Easter evening. And the first words He uttered are the very words we need to hear when we are trapped in fear: “Peace be with you!”
In the story of the first Pentecost which we heard in the first reading, the disciples are gathered once again in the upper room behind closed doors, but they do so not out of fear but obedience to the Lord that they should remain vigilant in prayer while waiting for the descent of the Holy Spirit. Their default impulse would be to flee but now they chose to remain in obedience. Things have changed. And things would undergo a greater change with the coming of the Holy Spirit. Not only would the door and windows of their room be thrown open but also their hearts would be reinvigorated to go out to the whole world to proclaim the good news.
The Pentecost event is a decidedly evangelical one: instead of being huddled away from fear of what lay outside, when the Holy Spirit came upon the apostles it gave them precisely what Jesus promised it would give them: power to become witnesses to Jesus ‘throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth’ (Acts 1:8). Such was their fervour and excitement that people thought they were drunk (2:13). Peter was boldly able to stand before the crowd and preach the good news that Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified, had been raised from the dead, and now the forgiveness of sins and life in the Holy Spirit was possible (2:38). The recovery of this evangelical spirit is one of the intentions of the Second Vatican Council, as well as to speak in a language that was intelligible to people.
As Bishop Robert Barron is fond of saying, the Second Vatican Council was intended to be a “missionary council,” that is the council aimed at transforming the world, rather than just settling technical doctrinal disputes like earlier councils. The progressives, as much as they believe that they are forward looking, are actually quite inward looking, in that they seem to be obsessed with what they believe to be “not working” in the Church. Such a hyper critical attitude is not evidence of humility but rather narcissism, intending to make the Church in our image and likeness rather than to rediscover and reinvigorate her core mission to preach the gospel to the ends of the earth. The imagery of opened doors and windows is not meant to suggest that one should throw out all that is old and stuffy by letting the fresh air of the world enter. What you get may not be fresh air but “the smoke of Satan” as mentioned by Pope St Paul VI. Rather the opened windows and doors of the Church serve as a challenge to all of us to go into the world to transform it with the values of the gospel. This is the “new Pentecost.”
Pentecost is a permanent invitation to the Church and to every Christian to renew their commitment to the evangelising mission. The Holy Spirit gives His charisms, or spiritual gifts, to each believer to build up the community and carry out the mission of evangelisation. Pentecost reminds us that every Christian, thanks to the presence of the Holy Spirit, has the power and responsibility to be a witness to the faith and to contribute to the spread of the Gospel.
Many Catholics are only comfortable to huddle together and talk only privately about the Lord behind closed doors but are afraid to go out of the doors of the Church and speak a word about the Lord. Perhaps they will be laughed at, scorned or asked questions they cannot answer. The general Catholic approach in terms of evangelisation does not seem to be to open the doors and go out but, rather to open the doors and hope people come in. But Christ said “GO.” And still we huddle together fearfully and with an inward focus. We spend most of our time talking about inward things like what colour to paint the church walls or the repair works that need to be done in the women’s restroom, who will be the new president of this ministry or that, or when will Father take notice of me. All perhaps important issues to resolve but the main mission of evangelisation is neglected and we focus on inward things too much.
Outside the church doors is a world that needs to hear from us, but still we huddle together, timid and fearful of opening the doors and going out. The Holy Spirit is present here in this church but He also wants to be out there for others. So, let us not keep the Holy Spirit locked up behind the closed doors of our fears but it is time to unleash Him in a new Pentecost. Pentecost is not just about personal renewal—it’s about mission. The Spirit empowers us to share the Gospel, to speak truth, and to witness to Christ in word and action. Sharing the Gospel doesn’t have to be complicated. A simple conversation, a word of encouragement, or a testimony of what God has done in your life can become a channel for the Holy Spirit to work through you. Pentecost isn’t just an event to remember—it’s a reality to live. The same Spirit who filled the apostles is available to us today. As you celebrate Pentecost, receive a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and share the Gospel with boldness and joy.
Pentecost Vigil
This Millenium church whose dedication we celebrate today is certainly a source of pride for parishioners of Holy Family. If there is a Book of Guinness Records for the Catholic Church, we could boast of making the list not just in one category but several. First, we were the first fully air-conditioned church in the archdiocese, the envy of other parishes as their congregants continued to sweat in the sweltering tropical heat of Malaysia. Second, we are the largest church building with the biggest capacity in the Archdiocese of Kuala Lumpur, perhaps even in the whole of Peninsular Malaysia, an accolade that has yet remained unchallenged till this day. This has allowed us to host many Archdiocesan and even national Catholic events, and this church has often been referred to as the unofficial “co-cathedral” of the Archdiocese of Kuala Lumpur. Third, no other new church has come anywhere close to the cost of construction for this church. We cannot boast of being the most expensive but I guess we will not be unseated as the cheapest newest church in the region, certainly a tribute to the designers and project building managers and the fiscal genius of Fr Leo Chang and his team.
But today, the first reading of our Vigil Mass comes as a strong caution even as we celebrate the anniversary of the dedication of this church, the “work of human hands.” The technological and civilisational advancement of the people who built the Tower of Babel had no contemporary equivalent or rival. The Tower of Babel was a monument to human ingenuity, to their great civilisation which were united by a single language and skills that could build skyscrapers instead of the stone masonry of their contemporaries. But what was their ultimate goal? What was their motivation? The text explains: “Let us make a name for ourselves.” Pride was their motivation and pride would be their downfall.
The story of the fall of Babel is a reminder to us that when we use our skill and unity to thumb our noses at God, steal His glory and attempt to make a name for ourselves, we will wrought our own downfall. We have swapped the worship of the Creator for the worship of our own handiwork. That is why God’s judgement to break their unity and scatter them into different languages and cultures, is not done out of spite, or to punish us, but to save us.
On the eve of Pentecost, which some have incorrectly labelled as the birthday of the Church (the Church was born from the open wound of our Lord on Good Friday but manifested herself on Pentecost), it is good for us to remember what the Church symbolises for us. We have often been reminded ad nauseum that “the Church is not a building.” But to totally devalue the church building as a sacred place, a House of God, a primary sacramental of our Catholic faith, is to reject our very identity as members of the Mystical Body of Christ.
A church building is meant to be understood as a place for expressing the character of God. The building itself, like all of creation, was meant to help human beings know their Creator. Influenced by Protestants and post-modern thought, however, many Catholics — have forsaken or neglected this notion and purpose. Church buildings have become less about the character of their Creator and more about the social interactions of the creatures. Instead of a house that speaks and sings praises of the glory of the Almighty God, our churches have become temples to human ingenuity, mere auditoriums for human performances where we get to “make a name for ourselves.” Instead of proclaiming the greatness of God, we have often stressed the utility, functionality, and practicality of a church building.
But let us not forget the incisive opening words of Psalm 127 where we are reminded, “If the Lord does not build the house, in vain do its builders labour" (v. 1). Indeed, a strong community is born from the commitment of all its members, but it needs the blessing and support of that God who, unfortunately, is too often excluded or ignored. Without God, we can do nothing which is lasting: without the Lord, in vain do we labour. But with the Lord, instead, we will be a Church that is constantly renewed in faith, spirit, communal life and fervour for mission.
Without the Holy Spirit, the parish is just an empty shell, a lifeless conglomerate of persons, and not a community. But with the Holy Spirit, a community made up of different cultures, languages and ages can become a life-giving, faith inspiring and mission-oriented Church. The Venerable Bishop Fulton J. Sheen once said about the church that even though we are God's chosen people, we often behave more like God's frozen people. God's frozen people indeed: frozen in our prayer life, frozen in the way we relate with one another, frozen in the way we celebrate our faith. We don't seem to be happy to be in God's house; we are always in a hurry to get it over and done with as soon as possible. Today is a great day to ask the Holy Spirit to rekindle in us the spirit of new life and enthusiasm, the fire of God's love, so that our faith, our spiritual life, our community and our zeal for mission may be renewed!
Seventh Sunday of Easter Year A
In the first reading, we have the account from Acts of how the disciples returned to the city of Jerusalem where they were instructed by the angels to do so after having witnessed our Lord ascend to the heavens. The distance from the Mount of Olives where our Lord departed to the city was described as a short distance, “no more than a Sabbath walk.” This was the maximum distance that one could walk on a Sabbath to ensure that one would not violate the Sabbath prohibition against “working”. To technically bypass this restriction, Jewish law allows for an eruv, a boundary marked with wire that extends the area considered "home," allowing for a greater, or more flexible, walking distance. If you’ve been to the Hasidic Jewish neighbourhood in New York City, you will see this wire hanging around the area. Don’t be mistaken, it’s not the electric or telephone lines. It’s the “eruv”.
This mention of the Sabbath walking restriction seems unnecessary especially when the Ascension most likely happened on a Thursday. Interestingly, it was also on a Thursday, Holy Thursday to be specific, that Jesus marched out to the Mount of Olives, to the Garden of Gethsemane which lay at the foot of this hill, after He had celebrated the Last Supper with His disciples. Now after His Ascension, they return to the very room where the Last Supper was celebrated to continue their vigil, their nine days novena awaiting the descent of the Holy Spirit. Coincidence or Déjà vu or Providence? I would prefer to think of it as the last.
This may explain why the Lectionary takes us back to the scene of the Last Supper. We can imagine that as the disciples and Mary return to the Upper Room, they would have recalled memories of our Lord and His teachings. One of those that would have come to mind would be what we have heard a while ago. Our Lord, who has yet to meet His passion and experience the resurrection, speaks from eternity, from beyond the grave. In Jesus’ sacred, saving hour, a great liturgy of love emerges from the poetry of this prayer. Through His word and in the sacred bread of His body, all are drawn toward the Father to receive life and glory. A major biblical motif, “glory” (kabod) was used in the Old Testament to illustrate God’s goodness in providing for His people in the wilderness; for example God’s presence in the pillar of fire and cloud was called “glory”; God’s saving intervention was described in terms of manifesting His “glory,” and God’s presence as He alighted on the Tent of Meeting, also referred to His “glory.”
Interestingly, the Sabbath walk we had discussed earlier was also related to the Tent of Meeting where the Ark of the covenant was kept and the glory of God had descended. The Israelites were meant to keep close to it because God was their shield, their Rock, and their Shepherd. They were meant to keep within the “eruv” boundaries surrounding the Tabernacle. To wander off would mean disaster – they would be lost or even worst, fall prey to wild animals or their enemies who wanted nothing more than to destroy them. And so, whenever the glory of God lifted from the Tent, the Israelites would break camp and follow – not any sooner or later.
But the glory of God had already departed from the Temple as the prophet Ezekiel had prophesied and the Ark of the covenant was lost after the raid of the Babylonians. The great Temple of Jerusalem was now just an ostentatious husk, beautiful on the outside but empty within. So, the Temple could no longer serve as the heart of the “eruv”, the sacred perimeter. The core had shifted. Jesus, the New Temple, the true abode of the “glory” of God. Where ever our Lord is, so is this sacred perimeter marked and demarcated.
So, what did Jesus mean when He spoke of the hour of entering into His “glory”? Such “glory” is certainly not equivalent to what man often desires - popularity, public acceptance, praises and a good name. Here lies the divine paradox of the gospel - when Jesus spoke of His own glory He was speaking about the cross. Throughout the gospel of John, Jesus and His ministry was portrayed as a progressive process of glorification, a process of preparation for the ultimate “sign” – the crucifixion, the climax of salvation history.
St Peter must have finally understood the connection between glory and the cross after several failed attempts. At the time of his first letter, the early Christian communities were already experiencing persecution and suffering for their faith. The cross was no longer theoretical or symbolic, it was very real. And yet in today’s second reading, St Peter writes with great confidence and as a means of encouraging his fellow Christians: “If you can have some share in the sufferings of Christ, be glad, because you will enjoy a much greater gladness when his glory is revealed. It is a blessing for you when they insult you for bearing the name of Christ, because it means that you have the Spirit of glory, the Spirit of God resting on you.”
The other radical twist introduced in today’s passage is that Jesus speaks of eternal life not as some future or eschatological reality, something which you experience only after death. On the contrary, one can experience eternal life in the here and now. According to Jesus, eternal life is “to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent”. To know connotes the intimacy of an immediate experience rather than cognitive knowledge. Such as, my family knows the real me! Therefore, “to know” God, means to be called into an intimate relationship with the Father, like the one that Jesus the Son already enjoyed. This provides another beautiful layer to our understanding of Jesus’ hour of glory. In other words, knowledge of and intimate participation with Jesus in His hour, in His glory, or in the words of St Peter, sharing in the sufferings of Christ, one can already taste eternal life here and now.
Christian faith continues to present a different picture of glory, one which requires us to see the world, its trials and tribulations, through the lenses of eternity. It calls the world to transcendence, to appreciate once again the need for beauty, goodness, and truth. It challenges us to stay near to Christ and His cross, and we should not walk too far away from it or risk losing His protection and be lost. But if this message is to be heard, there must be Christians who are disciples that are willing to live out the message of today’s gospel. This means living a life rooted in Christ and yet in the world that already goes beyond it and resists being reduced to its conventions. And it is intrinsic to this way of life that it be lived not merely by isolated individuals, but by a community. Thus, the essential need for our BECs, our Basic Ecclesial Communities, to bear witness to the gospel message. The community is our “eruv” where we ensure that we remain rooted in Christ, remain connected to Him. Where we reject community living, we in fact reject the gospel, and we become anti-witnesses of its message. To walk beyond the boundaries of the Church is to walk away from our Lord, to turn our backs on Him, to turn our backs on salvation.
Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord Year A
It’s Ascension Thursday and we would expect to hear the account of the Ascension in the gospel. But this account is missing from St Matthew’s gospel which ends with our Lord summoning His disciples to an unnamed mountain in Galilee where He commissions them to “make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands” He had given them. Both content and location defer sharply from Luke’s account of the Ascension which takes place on the Mount of Olives, just outside Jerusalem. This seeming discrepancy has less to do with a contradiction or an error than it must possibly do with two different events. The Great Commission, as many would call the episode described in today’s passage, would have taken place on a hill (or borrowing scriptural language of embellishment, a “mountain”) in Galilee, whereas the Ascension as described in the gospel of St Luke and the Acts of the Apostles, took place outside Jerusalem on the Mount of Olives.
Scholars and theologians suggest several reasons why Matthew chose to end his gospel this way instead of referring to the Ascension as do St Luke and the longer ending of St Mark’s gospel.
Firstly, in Matthew’s Gospel, the evangelist begins with Jesus being called "Emmanuel" (God with us) and the gospel then ends with the Lord’s promise "I am with you always" which form a pair of literary bookends (an inclusio and conclusio), emphasising that the Lord remains spiritually present with His Church despite His physical departure. The Ascension marks the completion of the Lord’s earthly mission. He came to teach, to heal, to suffer, die and rise again. After His resurrection, His final act was to return to the Father. This signals that His saving work was done. Mission accomplished! Yes and no. Although His work of salvation is complete and He is no longer present with us physically until His return in glory at the end of the ages, He continues to remain with us sacramentally through the Eucharist and continues to act in and through His Church, His Mystical Body on earth - teaching us, guiding us, and sanctifying us.
A second reason for St Matthew’s omission of the account of the Ascension is that his gospel is primarily written for a Jewish audience and so Matthew emphasises Jesus as the prophesied and long-awaited Messiah and Davidic King. So, the titles of “Messiah,” “the Christ Anointed) of God” and “Son of David” are recurring leitmotifs in the storyline as a gradual revelation of His identity. The ending establishes His universal authority over all nations rather than focusing on the mechanics of His departure. We are invited to not only look upwards in the direction which He has ascended but to look around to the full expanse of His earthly domain where He has made us His stewards and emissaries with a specific duty of making disciples and Christians: “Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you.” The Feast of the Ascension, therefore, speaks of two missions, the completion of our Lord’s earthly mission and ministry but now also the beginning of the Church, our own mission to spread the gospel to the ends of the earth.
In Eastern iconography, we witness this twofold dynamics. The icon of the Ascension is divided into three sections. In the upper part, we have the ascending or ascended Lord in all His divine glory and below we have the disciples with Mary in their midst. The apostles are shown below in various states of confusion, motion, and conversation, indicating their transition from spectators to missionaries, only Mary remains peacefully calm and poised in a position of prayer. But between these two obvious focal points, we have two angels. The gestures of their hands tell a grand story. The angels point toward Christ while also addressing the disciples, “Why are you men from Galilee standing here looking into the sky?” (Acts 1:11). This gesture acts as a call to action—directing the disciples to stop simply gawking and to start walking, to cease from gazing into an empty sky because the Lord has already departed and to begin the mission to spread His gospel to the ends of the earth as He had instructed.
So, the Ascension by no means concludes the story of salvation as how the curtain falls or the end credits to a movie marks its end. When the story ends, the audience departs in silence or whispers their reviews of what they had witnessed. Not so in the case of the Ascension. In fact, today reminds us that we have been swept into the storyline of our Lord, a story that does not end until He returns in glory. There’s work to be done. Hearts to be touched. Wounds to be bandaged. Souls to be saved. We are our Lord’s proxies. We are His ambassadors. We are His hands and His feet. When people see us, they should see the Risen Lord, despite all our foibles and limitations. We are what we claim to be - “Christians” - a little Christ. That is why even though He is ascended, He is not absent. In fact, His presence has become all the more pervading through us, the Church and the Sacraments.
Finally, today’s feast is not just about a recollection of the story of how the Lord ascended to heaven, which is a nice thing to know, nor that we have been entrusted with a mission, which is something challenging if we truly grasped it. Today’s feast also provides us with the ultimate reason for our hope. Through our Lord’s Ascension, we know for certain that the gates of heaven are opened and He awaits to welcome us to stand before His seat of glory, where He is seated at the right hand of the Father. But His exaltation is also “our exaltation” (collect for the Vigil Mass). As the Preface for the Feast tells us, His Ascension “is not to distance Himself from our lowly state but, that we, His members, might be confident of following where He, our Head and Founder, has gone before.”
Sixth Sunday of Easter Year A
Recently, there was a very public disagreement between Pope Leo and the President of the most powerful nation on earth over the latter’s actions in prosecuting war in Iran. You may think that the word “disagreement” is an understatement. Although Trump was not named in the earlier statements by the Holy Father, the reference to the immorality of war and call for cease fire by the Pope was obviously interpreted by the media as referring to him. Who else could it be meant for? Well, Trump did not hesitate to name the Pope in a blazing rebuttal. The supporters and defenders of Trump’s policy, however, did clearly question the authority of the Pope to speak on matters beyond his expertise accompanied by a cautionary note that the Pope should stay within his lane. Was the Pope speaking out of turn? This criticism would not be the first nor would Pope Leo be the first pope to be accused of meddling in the affairs of the state.
But it is interesting that many of those who have come to the defence of the Pope had been the Church’s greatest critics on her position on other moral issues. Were they now reneging from their earlier position that the Church had no authority to dictate on matters concerning gender ideology and reproductive rights? Why the sudden switch in allegiance? In the words of St Augustine, we love the truth when it enlightens us but hate it when it rebukes us.
One of the most controversial points surrounding the Catholic Church today, as it has been from the very beginning, would be the Church’s claim that she is able to teach and govern authoritatively; in fact she claims to teach, govern and sanctify with the authority of Christ Himself. This is more than just a claim to offer an opinion among many but a claim that the Church speaks Truth, teaches Truth and defends Truth. While most experts can claim some form of authority from training and experience, only the Catholic Church, or the Magisterium, which is the teaching authority of the Church, can claim authority from the Holy Spirit. The Magisterium speaks with the authority of Christ, guided and empowered by the Spirit. But why would He do that?
If Christ wanted to ensure that His teachings would have the efficacy of leading humanity to salvation, He would have taken the necessary measures to ensure the same teaching would have this purpose, rather than become a cause for confusion and destruction. This is why Christ promised to protect the teachings of the Church by conferring this very authority of interpretation on to the Church’s Magisterium: "He who hears you, hears me; he who rejects you rejects me, he who rejects me, rejects Him who sent me" (Luke 10. 16).
Pope Benedict XVI of happy memory noted in a homily that “this power of teaching frightens many people in and outside the Church. They wonder whether freedom of conscience is threatened or whether it is a presumption opposed to freedom of thought.” But then the erudite pontiff noted, “The power of Christ conferred upon Peter and his Successors is, in an absolute sense, a mandate to serve. The power of teaching in the Church involves a commitment to the service of obedience to the faith.” This authority of the Church, as the Lord has reminded all His disciples, is not one which seeks ‘to lord it over others’ but ultimately one of service. The Magisterium is not superior to the Word of God. Instead, the Magisterium is clearly under its authority–it is the servant of the Word. Its role is not to add to God’s revelation or to subtract from it. Only to faithfully interpret and apply it (CCC 85-86).
We see an excellent example of the exercise of the Church’s Magisterium in today’s first reading. The issue of whether pagan converts to Christianity would have to submit to circumcision and other Jewish observances had become a major issue that threatened to split the leaders of the Church and the Church itself. During the Council, St Peter strongly defended the position that the Gentiles, who were not circumcised, were accepted by God. The apostle James then delivered his judgment that the Gentile converts would not need to be circumcised but laid down certain guidelines that would allow Jewish and Gentile converts to live in harmony. So, finally the apostles and elders adopted the position proposed by James and chose men from among them to send to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas. In the letter, they wrote, “It has been decided by the Holy Spirit and by ourselves ...” The apostles and elders who had gathered at the Council of Jerusalem were conscious that their decision was no mere human decision. They believed that it was the Holy Spirit who guided their decision, and so, ultimately it is God who has decided on the matter.
Unlike what many dissenters often claim, the Holy Spirit is not the source or muse for innovation. “We have to let the Spirit lead”. Unfortunately, this is often a euphemism for excusing oneself from following the Church’s teachings and disciplines. The Spirit does not provoke us to disobedience. In fact the Lord Himself tells us in today’s gospel, “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word.” Likewise, the Holy Spirit is not a spirit of confusion. Our Lord sent the Holy Spirit to guide His Church into ALL Truth. He promised His disciples and us that the Advocate, the Holy Spirit “will teach (the Church) everything and remind (her) of all.” Despite the cultural winds that have blown through the ages, the faithful have always had a visible, easily identifiable magisterial “rock” on which they could safely stand on in all seasons.
Throughout the centuries, the Church has also experienced many crises that threatened to shake its very foundation and unity. In the early centuries, many Church leaders were divided as to the issue of Christ’s divinity. In later centuries, there were also disagreement about many church teachings and practices. In modern times, the most contentious issues revolve around sexual mores. Throughout its histories, the Church had to contend with schisms (splits) and heresies (erroneous teachings) but remain steadfast on its course, the course set by her Lord and Master. And yet despite these many centuries of crises and trials, the Church has continued to survive and grow, only because of the guidance of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit’s guidance ensures that despite all our personal opinions and ways of thinking, and despite the wickedness and failings of her shepherds, we can be sure of a certain authoritative position that reflects the will of God. In other words, the Holy Spirit is the guarantee of unity within the Church.
Today, we are facing a crisis that has made many Catholics to no longer know what to believe or what kind of conduct God expects of us. What is needed as a remedy for this is a firm standard, a reliable guide or teacher who can tell us both what we must believe and what we must do. We need a Church who can ensure that the light of Christ’s saving gospel will shine on every generation. We need a Church that does not only provide us with good ideas and opinions but who teaches authoritatively, who is able to give us great light & clarity in a world that seems often enveloped in the darkness of sin; in a world enamoured and confused by the fallacious philosophy of relativism which provides so many competing false lights. We need a Church and successors of the Apostles who will “discharge their exalted office for the salvation of all, and so that the whole flock of Christ might be kept away by them from the poisonous food of error and be nourished with the sustenance of heavenly doctrine” (Vatican I, Constitution on the Church of Christ). And as G.K. Chesterton once said, “I don’t need a church to tell me I’m wrong where I already know that I’m wrong; I need a Church to tell me I’m wrong where I think I’m right.”
Fifth Sunday of Easter Year A
You may have heard this glib cliched line: “Jesus is the answer.” Some cheekily retort, “but the answer to what? What exactly is the question?” But what I’m going to say today is going to ruffle some feathers, if not shock and scandalise many of you. Before we say that Jesus is the answer, we must recognise that Jesus is also the problem.
Jesus is the reason that the Christian faith is a problem. See what He claims in today’s gospel. “…No one can come to the Father except through Me” is the bone of contention. There is no way of getting around this declaration, unless you choose to ignore it or expunge it from the Bible for being too fundamentally exclusive. He tells us in no uncertain terms: “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.” Not just any way, or one among many truths or merely a path of life among other valid paths. He is The Way, The Truth, and The Life.
That Jesus is the only necessary Saviour of all is a truth that for over twenty centuries – beginning with Peter’s discourse after Pentecost – it was never felt necessity to restate. This truth is, so to speak, the minimum threshold of the faith; it is the primordial certitude, it is among believers the simple and most essential fact. In two thousand years this has never been brought into doubt, not even during the crisis of Arianism, and not even during the upheaval of the Protestant Reformation. The fact of needing to issue a reminder of this in our time tells us the extent of the gravity of the current situation.
When people claim that all religions are principally the same, with merely insignificant and superficial differences, as open-minded as they may sound, it actually betrays a certain ideological superiority and ignorance. No one could ever possibly make this claim unless he is abysmally ignorant of what the different religions of the world actually teach. Certainly, there are similarities and analogous parallels, but there are also many differences and even contradictions between truth claims. It doesn’t take a genius to tell you that there’s a world of a difference when one religion that states that there is no God and another one that asserts it, and one could obviously not sweep this inconsistency under the carpet and term it as ‘insignificant’ or ‘non-essential.’ To ignore or to collapse every single difference and contradiction into a single voluminous salad bowl of beliefs is like thinking the earth is flat.
Christianity is not a system of man's search for God but a story of God's search for man. Throughout the Bible, man-made religion fails but God continues to reach down, in spite of our failure. There is no human way up the mountain, only a divine way down. Of course, if these roads to salvation were indeed man made, it would indeed be stupid and arrogant to absolutise any one of them. But if God made the road and the path, He must indeed be a fickle and schizophrenic deity who enjoys confusing his creation by creating contradictory alternatives. But if He made only one path – One Way, One Truth and One source of Life, His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ and the Church which He has left behind as that one certain path for all humanity – then it is humility and not arrogance to accept this one road from God, and it is arrogance, not humility, to insist that all our man made roads are as good as God’s God-made one.
To the common argument that this fundamental understanding of salvation radically changed as a result of the Second Vatican Council, it is good to have a look at what the Council Fathers actually taught and not what we assume they taught. The Council taught that on the one hand there is much deep wisdom and value, or “rays of truth” in other religions and that the Christian should respect them and learn from them. But, on the other hand, the claims of Christ and His Church can never be lessened, compromised, or relativised. The Church continues to proclaim that God intends the salvation of all, and He does so through the mediation of His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and the Church, which is His Body. And yet those who through no fault of their own do not know Christ or His Church, but who follow the dictates of their conscience as prompted by the Spirit, may also be saved. But their salvation too comes from Christ and never apart from Him. That is why the Church continues to proclaim that God intends the salvation of all, and He does so through the mediation of His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and the Church, which is His Body.
Has this position changed in 2026 with a new pope. Without skipping a beat, Pope Leo recently reiterated this truth to a group of altar servers who had come from France: “Who will come to save us? Not only from our sufferings, from our limits and our mistakes, but even from death itself? The answer is perfectly clear and resounds in the History of 2000 years: only Jesus comes to save us, no-one else: because only he has the power to do so – He is God Almighty in person – and because he loves us. Saint Peter said it emphatically: ‘There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved’ (Acts 4:12). Never forget these words, dear friend: imprint them on your heart, and place Jesus at the centre of your lives.”
Though the world may appear to be a free marketplace of ideas, opinions, theologies and ideologies, where we are constantly tempted to come up with a recipe or salad of ideas, we Christians have already made our choice. There may be many rivers which may ultimately lead to the sea, but there is only one Way, one Truth and one Life that leads to Heaven, it is Christ, for He is both the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the Source of Life itself and its destined End.
