Authentic synodality

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Today, “synodality” has become the most popular catchword in ecclesial lingo. The 3 years process which culminated in the Synod on Synodality sought to promote “a process of listening and discernment.” This has sparked hope in some Catholics but deep concern in others. Why would something so innocent sounding be even construed as controversial? The real issue is not the word but the understanding, or using modern lingo “the POV” (point of view), regarding its meaning: is this synodal process a true exercise of ecclesial communion, like those experienced by the Church Fathers, or an attempt by the progressive camp to impose a new ecclesiology that dilutes sacred authority in favour of human consensus, which ultimately leads to change in doctrine?

The Greek etymology of the word “synod” suggests that we are fellow travellers journeying together, walking along the same path, sharing the same experiences, ups-and-downs of life, facing the same trials and challenges and therefore we should look at common ways of making decisions to chart our common path. When translated to ecclesial governance, it would even suggest that the governance of the Church should not be left to a group of celibate old men who have little or no experience of the real world. Instead of a top-down way of governing and making decisions, it should be a grassroots based approach, with our ears constantly to the ground.

But authentic Synodality has always had three characteristics: firstly, it was hierarchical - the successors of the Apostles, or the bishops, guided by the Holy Spirit, discerned in communion with the Pope (last week, we heard how the keys of the Kingdom were conferred upon Peter and his successors and not to every Tom, Dick and Harry); secondly, it was always doctrinally faithful, in that such consensus could not reinvent the faith but defended the Tradition received from Christ and transmitted through the Apostles, because any consensus cannot just be of members of a particular generation and among contemporaries but across the ages; and finally, such Synodality was exercised with a pastoral orientation - which basically means seeking the salvation of souls rather than adaptation to the world and pandering to the feelings of the crowd. Let us not forget the caution issued by St Paul in the second reading: “Do not model yourselves on the behaviour of the world around you, but let your behaviour change, modelled by your new mind. This is the only way to discover the will of God and know what is good, what it is that God wants, what is the perfect thing to do.”

The problem is that today, many misconstrue synodality as a purely horizontal process where the entire People of God would have a say in matters of faith and morals, as if the Church were a democracy. The tension which the prophet Jeremiah experienced in the first reading illustrates this point. Jeremiah is called to faithfully announced the word of God even though most of the people hated him for this message. There are certainly many good points that emerge from this concept of Synodality, at least the perception of it. It takes a popular approach, in that the masses are consulted before any decision is taken for the betterment of the church, in theory at least. It transplants a democratic model into a traditionally monarchical and hierarchical form of governance. But many have also expressed concerns about the limitations of such a model as opposed to the traditional hierarchical one. This form of democratic synodality absolutely denies the divine nature of the Church and her teachings which is not a product of human consensus but divine revelation.

The idea of walking together still begs the question: in which direction are we walking? Who gets to decide the path and the destination? In practical terms, this would be impossible in an egalitarian democracy where everyone’s path is respected because we will not arrive in the same direction if each of us decide to take our own path. Walking together would also be an oxymoron if each person is allowed to take his own path and even if we were to decide on one path among the many, which path would it be? The gospel provides us with the clear solution. We can only take the path of Christ as He teaches today, “If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me.” If one decides to choose one’s own path, even if there is a consensus among us, we are taking the path of Satan rather than that of Christ. St Peter made that very mistake when he objected to Christ’s taking the path of the Way of the Cross. He who was supposed to be a foundation stone for the Church, a stepping stone for other followers of Christ, became a stumbling block the moment he stood before Christ to impede the latter’s path.

In the final document of the Synod of Synodality, the concept was defined in this way, “Synodality is the walking together of Christians with Christ and towards God’s Kingdom, in union with all humanity.” I think it is not enough to speak of us walking “with Christ” but rather more scripturally accurate to speak of us walking “after Christ”, sequela Christi, following Him instead of each other’s whim and fancy, for only Christ is the “Way, the Truth and the Life.” This is what St John affirmed in his second epistle: “and this is love, that we walk according to his commandments; this is the commandment just as you have heard it from the beginning—you must walk in it” (2 John 1:6). Without Christ, synodality breaks down completely. If I am headed east, and you want to go west, the conversation breaks down quickly. And then Synodality is nominally reduced to a useful tool in the hands of the strongest, the loudest, the one who commands the bully pulpit and orders others: “you listen when I speak.”

It is always a good thing to listen to the cries and pleas of the people but it is a far more important thing to listen to the voice of Christ speaking through the Holy Spirit in the Church. We should not make the mistake of drowning out the very voice that matters most of all by pandering to the demands of competing voices, even if they were the voices of those whom we perceive to be marginalised. If we propose to “walk together” as a “synodal” Church, the first order of business should be to determine whether we are headed in the right direction by following Christ. The litmus test can never be self-realisation or self-assertion as the world demands, but rather the Christian way of self-denial: “For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.” We can know and understand the Gospel of Jesus Christ fully and correctly only with the aid of the Church which Christ established, along with its Magisterium which Christ continues to guarantee. Clearly, then, true synodality can exist only in the service of the Gospel.

This is what we are about as we continue to strive to be a synodal church. First, that there is no rallying point without fidelity to the Gospel; second, that there is no safe gathering place without the authority of Christ’s Church; and, third, that there is no salvation without Jesus Christ. In other words, if synodality will now be understood as “a way together” inspired by the One who is the Way, the Truth and the Life and guaranteed by the teaching authority of the Church He founded, then synodality will no longer be a waste of time, but a hope and a prayer and even a method for the conversion of the world.

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.

Jesus is the Answer

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.

I am a Servant

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of the most common come back lines in Malaysian colloquial speech when you feel that the other person is taking advantage of your good nature is “you think I’m your servant ah?” It’s used by mothers to sons who litter the floor with their unwashed socks and underwear and who don’t wash their own plates after a meal; “you think I’m your servant ah?” To a friend who seems to treat you with contemptuous over-familiarity who expects you to always pay when you go out for a meal or by ordering you around to do things which he could have easily done on his own: “you think I’m your servant ah?” The bottom line is this - it is insulting and demeaning to be treated like a servant. A real servant deserves better.

However, the first reading introduces us to this anonymous character of the Servant (which would be expanded in chapters 52 and 53). This mysterious figure is often described as the Suffering Servant, because Isaiah sets out in detail the suffering he has to endure at the hands of his enemies - he will be mocked, rejected, beaten and even killed. Who could this person be? Prophecies, being deliberately ambivalent, often tend to work on more than one level. From the passage we had just heard in the first reading, it would seem that Isaiah is referring first to himself - the prophet is the servant of God “who formed [him] in the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob back to him, to gather Israel to him.”

But then, there is also an allusion to the entire nation of Israel who is now in exile and in captivity in Babylon as being God’s Servant, entrusted with a mission: “I will make you the light of the nations so that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” So, to a people languishing in exile, wondering if they would ever be able to return to their beloved homeland, the prophecy comes as a powerful word of consolation.

But as Isaiah begins to develop the concept and extrapolate on the fate of this Servant, it becomes clearer that the prophecy had more to do with a person other than himself or the nation of Israel as a corporate personality. It is clear that the mission of the Servant is not just to liberate Israel, bring them home and restore the nation but would also serve as a beacon that will draw all nations to God.

Jesus perfectly embodies the Suffering Servant since He is "despised and rejected," gives His back to be beaten, and doesn't hide His face from shame. Like the Servant, Jesus endures mockery, abuse, and crucifixion without complaint, demonstrating profound communion with God even in suffering. And we all know that His suffering wasn’t for Himself but He endured it as bearing the sins of others, bringing healing and making reconciliation with God possible. The Servant is literally the One “who takes away the sin of the world.” This makes a perfect segue to the words of the Baptist in the gospel.

St John the Baptist does more than state the obvious. He marries the idea of the redemptive and rehabilitative mission of the Servant and that of the Chosen and Anointed One (the Messiah) with a lamb - in fact, this man, Jesus, is “THE Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world.” The idea of a lamb may not be so apparent to us modern urban folks. Is the allusion only to a cute, cuddly farm animal which would end up on our dinner table? For the Jews at that time, the very mention of the lamb invokes an image of a Temple sacrifice. Lambs and other animals were reared to be sin offerings. In other words, they were the sacrificial substitutes that would have to die for our sins. Making confession those days was a bloody business. Blood had to be literally shed. Thank God, the blood of lambs would suffice.

But this was not introducing an idea which was alien to the original concept of the Servant in Isaiah’s prophecy. In fact, in Isaiah Chapter 53, the image of the Servant is described using the metaphor of a lamb who is slaughtered and one who ‘bears’ the sins of others (Is 53:4, 11). Once again, the death of the Servant whether it was the nation of Israel or a person, was meant to be a sin offering to bring spiritual benefits to the Gentiles.

It is clear that scripture does not view servanthood as a sign of weakness or even sees it as an insult if someone were to be called “servant.” The Servant of God was ultimately tasked with a great mission, He had to shoulder the work of liberating His people, drawing others to God and ultimately being a light to the nations. But He was the Servant of the Lord. He was God’s representative - the Chosen One of God. Yet, the Servant, by virtue of His designation, never shone the light on Himself. His life, His mission, His entire identity and purpose, was to shine the light on His Master.

And so, we see ourselves too in the light of others who took up the mantle of being “servants” of the Lord, just like Isaiah and John the Baptist, we are called to point others in the direction of Christ. Just the other day, someone commented (sarcastically I must add) that the launching of our Jubilee Year was full of drama. In other words, we seem to be all showmanship with little substance. I told the person, “As long as the drama glorifies God and not seek to glorify oneself … like you!”

The next time you seem to be given a thankless job of cleaning up after others or attending to their needs or taking up a responsibility without acknowledgment, don’t complain: “you think I’m your servant ah?” Rather, see it as an opportunity to give glory to God and witness to His greatness by readily offering your nothingness to Him and others. There is no job beneath you. Being a servant is not just choosing to be last; it is desiring to be last.

Recall the words of our Lord spoken to His disciples: “Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must become your slave. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:26-28).

And there it is.
Do you want to be like Jesus? Serve others.
Do you want to be like Jesus? Choose to be last.
Do you want to be like Jesus? Be willing to sacrifice your life.
Be willing to set aside your preferences and desires for the preferences and desires of others.
If you dare to say, “I am a Christian,” be prepared to say: “I am a servant”.

My favour rests on Him

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

Several months ago, I attempted to provide a simple but lucid explanation of how God has favourites without having favourites. I’m not going to revisit that topic today for fear that I will be accused of being a broken record. Thank God for that! But I’m going to argue today that God does have one unique favourite person whom He loves above all else and I believe that none of you are going to protest and cry “not fair” because that person is none other than Jesus Himself, God’s Only Begotten Son, whom the Heavenly Father declares: “This is my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on him.”

We can understand why God would favour our Lord Jesus Christ. Though we are all His children by adoption through baptism, Jesus alone is the unique only begotten Son of the Father, who has been with the Father from the very beginning and as we profess in the Creed: “God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God”. If we are to compare ourselves with Him, the analogy of comparing an apple to an orange doesn’t even come close.

But with such special favour, there also arises a great mission and responsibility. Remember the Peter Parker principle from Spider-Man? “With great power comes great responsibility!” And this is why we hear in the first reading, what it means to be a favourite of God? The Spirit of the Lord is given to Him as we witness in the scene of the Baptism in order that He “may bring true justice to the nations.” He has been appointed “as covenant of the people and light of the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to free captives from prison, and those who live in darkness from the dungeon.” But there is a dark side to this mission. As the archetype for all fictional heroes, He must suffer, often in silence, in meekness, refusing to break or retaliate even when He is treated with humiliation and violence by His enemies. The Hero, the Anointed One, will be vilified and hated even though He saves the day. This is what the Beloved of God, the Favourite of God must endure. So, do you still want to be His favourite?

But we are indeed called to be God’s Beloved, called to be His favourites, all of us and not just some of us. Herein lies what I find to be the deepest mystery at the heart of baptism, and indeed at the heart of the whole sacramental order: there are certain actions Christ performed that, when performed by us within the context of His Body the Church, allow us to share in His very nature and mission in the world. In other words, Jesus did not come into the world merely to do things for us, but rather He came to open up through His humanity a way to participate in Him, to graft ourselves into His very life, to serve as He serves and to give our lives as He did. This is the mystery of the Incarnation - God became man so that men may become gods.

It is significant that this feast should take place on the first Sunday in Ordinary Time (even though there is no first Sunday in Ordinary Time). The reason being is that lectionary of Ordinary Time presents us with a scriptural catechesis of the very life and mission of Christ. And so this feast serves as an introduction to the entire life and mission of Christ. And should anyone have any doubt as to why we should even look to Christ as a model or imitate Him, the Church or God Himself gives the answer: “This is my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on him.” If there should be anyone in this world that we should look up to and seek to emulate, there can be no better model than Jesus, God’s Beloved Son and Favourite.

For many of us, our most common and seemingly very human response to knowing that God has favourites, would be to view this person with envy. But is that the correct response? In fact, the Church is in the business of holding up human examples of those who seem to have found favour with God. We call them saints. The Church does this not because she wishes to see us seething with envy but because she wants us to be saints too. To be a saint, in fact to be a Christian, is to be more Christ-like. A Christian is a “little Christ.”

So, it is a foolish distraction to become discouraged or envious of someone else’s progress in holiness! When we run into other people or read about saints who experience a deep, intimate relationship with God, we are faced with a choice. We can either envy them this intimacy – becoming angry and vindictive towards them because they have achieved a degree of holiness that we have not achieved. Or we can emulate them – we can acknowledge the beauty of the holiness they have achieved and use their experience as a spur to our own efforts pursuing spiritual maturity. The second option is the better one: when we encounter people holier than ourselves, they should inspire us to continue following the “narrow road” (Matthew 7:14) that leads to the life we long for. So, my dear friends, as we begin this New Year, as we begin a new cycle of Ordinary Time, let your discouragement be driven out by hope; let your frustration be banished by faith; and let your frown be erased by love. Let Hebrews 12:1 be your baptismal and life’s motto: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us.”

Wow!

Christmas Mass in the Night

“Wow!” Can you recall the last time you said that, perhaps, involuntarily? "Wow” is often offered with a gasp, a sharp intake of breath, when we can't think of another way to capture the sight of shocking beauty or destruction, of a sudden unbidden insight or an unexpected flash of grace. “Wow” is about having one's mind blown by the mesmerising or the miraculous.

I think most of us would have forgotten our last experience of Christmas that would have earned a “Wow” from us. I guess this would have happened when our walking was still wobbly, where every new discovery, every bright light and colour would have immediately made us wide-eyed with amazement. In other words, when we were still babies or toddlers. But then we grew up, we grew older and everything changed. Our sense of excitement and wander began to dull and languish, and everything became ordinarily commonplace and blasé. Instead of an exclamation of “wow”, we would now choose to sulk in a corner and grumpily complain: “humbug.”

I get a sense that there are more “humbugs” these days than “Wows!” Most people today complain that it doesn’t feel like Christmas for them. I get enough of these complaints during the penitential services in the various parishes where I get to hear hundreds of confessions. What do they mean by that? I guess for most people, there is an expectation to hype up the joy and excitement of Christmas as the day draws nearer, but it’s hard to feel excited or joyful these days because there are too many things on our plate which leads us to feel overwhelmed. And so, they slowly withdraw from social interactions with family and friends, feel exhausted even when they do Christmas shopping, and spend their holidays wallowing in self-pity and depression.

Why does Christmas have this impact on so many people? I guess part of the reason is something which I’ve often highlighted. It’s the pandemic of narcissism that has so afflicted our society. A narcissist is someone obsessively absorbed in himself. “It’s all about ‘Me’.” Narcissists hate Christmas. The Grinch, of Dr Seuss’ children’s poem, is such a creature. His heart is two sizes smaller because he is only capable of “loving” himself, if you could call it love. To say that narcissists suffer from deep anxiety during this season is an understatement. Narcissists love to be the centre of attention, and they will not tolerate any other star who will compete with them for that attention. And who’s the actual star of this season? The Birthday Boy Himself and today all of us here are to celebrate His birthday. And so the narcissist will attempt to deflect our attention by manipulating, trying to earn your sympathy, they will list down a long list of complaints, mostly imaginary, in order to get you to shift your attention to them.

My frequent response to these complaints is this: “What do you mean by saying “it doesn’t feel like Christmas”? Christmas did happen over 2000 years ago. A baby was born in Bethlehem over 2000 years ago. God became man over 2000 years ago. A Saviour has been born to us over 2000 years ago. And nothing you feel or not feel is going to change that!” The truth is a bitter red pill to swallow. Perhaps the person would have been conditioned by years of listening to or singing that popular contemporary Christmas song: “Christmas isn't Christmas till it happens in your heart.” But the truth is that Christmas doesn’t need to happen in your heart before it happens. That’s subjective delusion. Reality does not revolve around your feelings, any more than in your thoughts. Christmas is real because IT IS as the angels declared it to the shepherds: “Today in the town of David a saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”

So, the antidote to ennui, to boredom and restlessness is not found in seeking attention or getting people to show sympathy to your condition. It is shifting our gaze from ourselves to the One whom Isaiah describes in the first reading as “Wonder-Counsellor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace.” He alone is our “Saviour” and for this reason we should share in the “great joy” which the angels announce that first Christmas night, “a joy to be shared by the whole people.” I want to take up the first name given to this child in Isaiah’s prophecy whom we know to be Christ; "he will be called Wonderful Counsellor."

When we hear the word "counsellor," we shouldn't think "therapist." In fact, one of the clear by-products of the pandemic of narcissism is the proliferation of therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists and counsellors. In the past, when you were troubled, you would go in search of a priest to make your confession or seek spiritual direction. Today, you look out for a therapist to listen to you tell your “stories” about yourselves (which is why so many confessions end up in being storytelling sessions rather than a grace-filled opportunity to confess one’s sin out of genuine contrition).

But here, the title “Wonderful Counsellor” is something quite different from the professional sounding board. Remember, in the ancient world, a counsellor was someone who devised plans to win military victories. This is what we see in the first reading. Jerusalem and the Kingdom of Judea were facing the threat of imminent invasion by the Assyrians. They were literally a people who were walking in darkness as they had exhausted all options and plans to fend off the enemy. It is here that Isaiah speaks to them of assured divine assistance in the form of a child, an heir to the throne of King David. The best strategy belongs to God. The riddle of Isaiah’s prophecy is finally solved with the birth of this child and who else would be the best person or persons to announce this than the angels, the direct messengers of God.

When we see how God has been playing 4D chess, setting up His plans by moving all the pieces on the board, setting history in motion and then directing it in a most inexplicable way and finally revealing that everything is pointing to this moment - the birth of a child in a small obscure town in the greatest empire on earth, we ought to sit back and marvel. His plans should blow our minds; mesmerise us with the miraculous; show us shocking beauty, unexpected flashes of grace; cause us to gasp, with a sharp intake of breath, and say, "Wow!"

So, if you are feeling down, depressed, or dry in your spiritual life, don’t give up, don’t look for distractions, don’t clutch your pearls, don’t seek attention by crying and complaining to others and finally, don’t despair. In fact, it is good to take a step back and take in the entire view. On this night, we remember how God sent us a Saviour to redeem us. He is “Wonder-Counsellor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace.” By choosing to unite His divinity with our humanity, He has truly set us free from the invisible shackles of sin, He has brought light into our darkness, He has given us hope in exchange for our despair, He who is God became man so that we humans can become gods. This is so wonderfully astounding that the whole company of heaven had to show up for the announcement of this child's birth because they were so astonished with the plan God had devised to save the world. What an amazing and wondrous gift that should make all of us, indeed the whole creation inhale in wonder and declare: Wow! Wow! Wow!

The New Adam

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Universality of our Faith

Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

Many have forgotten the ideals that were encapsulated in the rallying cry of the French Revolution, Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, which did not just bring down the aristocracy but also much of the Christian ethos on which Western civilisation was built upon. Today, those ideals have been reduced to ashes like the Cathedral of Notre Dame of Paris, only to have risen like a Phoenix in another form - DEI - Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. Although, some would argue that DEI is just another form of the threefold motto of the French Revolution only differing in minor semantics, DEI has gone beyond what those principles had been espoused to introduce. DEI: the race-and-identity-based ideology has become a core component of corporate or cultural endeavours across the US and even the world. DEI informs how students are taught, workers are hired and governance policies are established and obeyed. DEI are the new gifts offered not at the altar of God or to His infant Son, but to the altar of man.

Long before DEI became a fad, we have the tradition of the magi, often depicted in the Nativity crèche scene as three men hailing from the three known continents of the early medieval period - Europe, Asia and Africa. They perfectly fit the bill of being DEI hires. Recently, Fr Bonaventure and I were doing some Christmas decoration shopping, and we were looking for a new nativity set for the Parish House. Our eyes set upon this beautiful porcelain set which was surprisingly cheaper than all the other synthetic stuff. Our joy was short lived when we were informed by the shop owner that the set was already sold, and the display set was the only one they had in stock. Upon enquiring as to why the price of this exquisite set was far cheaper than the rest, the shop keeper admitted that one piece was missing - “the black king.” Too much “whiteness” (and indeed unlike the other sets, all figures were porcelain white) had rendered it defective and sadly “cancelled.” Christmas was no longer DEI compliant!

Thank God, we don’t need DEI to celebrate today’s feast. Yes, we should respect diversity rather than insist on uniformity. Yes, we need to include rather than to exclude, to build bridges rather than walls. These values are entirely understandable and morally laudable. But we don’t need to force the Church into a DEI box in order to achieve this. Our celebration of Epiphany is already a celebration of diversity, equality of dignity and inclusion.

Epiphany is the celebration of the universality of the Church, the universality of our faith, the universality of salvation and the universality of Christ as Saviour, who came to save not just an elite group of individuals belonging to a particular nation, caste, or race but He came to save all humanity. This universality is manifested in the visit of the magi, these non-Jewish wise men, most likely astrologers, as they came to pay homage to the Infant King in Bethlehem. The visit of the Magi, Pope Francis teaches, shows that Jesus Christ is 'the light of the world that guides the path of all peoples.' The Son of God did not only come for the people of Israel, represented by the shepherds, but also for the whole of humanity, represented by the Magi.

The Magi remind us of the catholicity or universality of the Church. Catholic means universal! We perhaps take for granted the catholicity of the Catholic Church. It is an important “mark of the Church.” We see this universality right here in our own parish. We are blessed with a diversity of races and cultures. We believe that God calls all people to salvation and that the Gospel is meant to be spread to the nations of the whole world. The Second Vatican Council taught that this gift of universality which adorns the People of God is a gift from the Lord Himself whereby the Catholic Church ceaselessly and efficaciously seeks for the return of all humanity and all its good under Christ the Head in the unity of His Spirit (Lumen gentium 13).

That Jesus is a universal Saviour is a great source of comfort and hope to us. But the divisiveness of Jesus, and the opposition that He provokes: that too remains. Right from the very moment of His birth, we see opposition in the person of King Herod. But King Herod would only be the first in a long line of those who would oppose Christ and His followers. Though Christ’s mission was universal, it did not mean that all accepted it universally. Christ is a sign that will be opposed: we see it in the persecution faced by Christians over the centuries and in many parts of the world; we see it in that mixture of indifference and hostility which is largely the default setting of our own secular culture to the Christian faith. The universality of His message of salvation is matched by the universality of opposition and hostility to the Gospel.

But perhaps too we see it even in our own hearts. There may be a part of us that wants to follow Jesus; there may be moments when we recognise that we need a Saviour; there may be times when the illusion that we are in control is shattered, and we want to be able to trust in His rule and in His care. But then, there is also a part of us that is frightened in much the same way that Herod was frightened, a part of us that wants to maintain the illusion of control at all costs. We are unwilling to be like the Wise Men, following the light to who knows where; we are unwilling to leave everything behind, to turn our lives upside down, to take risks and to make sacrifices for the sake of Jesus. We don’t want a King; we don’t think we need a Saviour. It’s our life, we are in control, we think we already have the answers. We turn away from Jesus, or we follow Him only half-heartedly, because we fear the challenge and the loss of control.

Every one of us has felt the sting of unjust exclusion, that sense of being on the wrong side of an arbitrary social divide, not permitted to belong to the “in” crowd. Perhaps, we in Malaysia have felt this more than in any other place on this earth. That entire classes of people, indeed entire races and ethnic groups, have suffered this indignity is beyond question. But the answer is not to hold up Diversity, Equity and Inclusion as the ultimate moral compass of our society. The antidote to our division is not to be found in these values, if they are values that have been cut off from its source, our Lord Jesus Christ, the unique and universal Saviour of the world.

So today we rejoice with the Wise Men in the presence of Jesus our Saviour and King. We rejoice that His salvation and His rule is universal, that His loving redemption extends to you and to me. We pray for the spread of the Gospel in our own generation, for all who have been unable to accept the Lord’s call, for persecuted Christians around the world, and for those who persecute them. And we repent of that fear that holds us back, that fear that prevents us from wholeheartedly seeking the light of Christ, the fear that keeps us separate from others and to view them as inferior to us. Today, we as members of the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church should double our efforts in reaching out to everyone, by welcoming everyone to bask in the light of Christ, our true star. But it is also important to recall what Cardinal Francis George, the former Archbishop of Chicago, once said when asked whether all are welcome in the Church. He responded, “Yes, but on Christ’s terms, not their own.”

There can be no gospel without the cross

Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Today’s gospel reading takes us to the structural centre and turning point in the Gospel of St Mark. It highlights this important truth in life - sometimes when you think you’ve got the right answer only to discover that you were wrong due to some prior presumption. In answering our Lord’s question, “who do you say I am”, St Peter gives the correct answer but we would soon see that he lacks complete understanding of what he had just blurted out.

He is like the blind man of Bethsaida whose miraculous healing had just taken place prior to this episode. No other miracle is like this one. The healing involved a two-stage process – a first part which was only partially successful while complete healing only took place after our Lord had spat into the eyes of the blind man (I understand that even the thought of someone spitting into your eyes will disgust you). The two-stage process was not the result of any inadequacy on the part of our Lord but was meant to be instructive. Peter and all the disciples, including us, are like that blind man. We too need to have our eyes of faith opened in stages, and this is what we witness in today’s passage.

At the beginning of this passage, our Lord asked two questions of the disciples: one concerning the view of the people regarding Himself, and another concerning the disciples' own view of Him. The first question elicited the current speculations that was circulating in the market of opinions - that He was John the Baptist back from beyond the grave, that He was Elijah who was expected to return before the arrival of the great and terrible Day of the Lord, and finally, that He was a prophet in the line of prophets from the Old Testament, just like how many had thought of John the Baptist. Never once is it recorded that the populace had even the slightest inkling that this is the Messiah. They thought of Him as one who was looking for another yet to come, and there is no indication that they ever got beyond that view.

But now our Lord cuts through the popular speculations and demands an answer from His own disciples. “But you … yes you … who do you say I am?” They could no longer hide behind the opinions of others. Our Lord now confronts them with this penetrating question which demands an honest answer. Their answer will either reveal their knowledge or expose their ignorance. The disciples had been the only ones privy to the secrets and mysteries revealed by the Lord. Peter's reply is immediate and definite: "You are the Christ." And this is indeed the correct answer. All that the Lord had done up to that point had been designed to lead them to this understanding of who He was, that they might then answer their own question.

"Christ" is simply the Greek form of the Hebrew word "Messiah". They mean exactly the same thing. And it is not a name, but a title. Jesus is His name, Christ is His office. And, in either the Greek or the Hebrew form, it means The Anointed One, or the One anointed by God. In the Old Testament there were two offices which required anointing: king, and priest. Our Lord, therefore, fulfils both roles but in a most perfect and unexpected way. And it is clear from what happens next that Peter’s and the other disciples’ understanding of the significance of this title is still not up to par. They were still stuck in their Old Testament categories and contemporary expectations of a political messiah whose mission was confined to the political liberation and restoration of the kingdom of Israel. For this reason, the Lord commanded them to remain quiet about this knowledge and not spread it because it would only fuel more false expectations of His mission.

We can see why the Lord did this, in the light of the story of the blind man which preceded this passage. This is that first touch, which opened their eyes to partial truth. They saw Him, but not clearly. They were astounded by Him, amazed and dazzled and fascinated, but not comprehending of what He really was like. They still require the second touch.

And the second touch came in the form of our Lord’s prediction about His passion and death. This was so essential to understanding His office and mission as the Messiah that our Lord repeated it three times, each time with additional details. In other words, to truly understand our Lord as the Christ, the long-awaited Messiah, the Anointed One of God, they must see Him in the light of the cross. This is where the image of the Suffering Servant mentioned in the first reading is woven into the prophecies of the Old Testament. The Saviour of Israel and indeed of the World, is also the One who comes not to be served but to serve and to give His life as ransom for many (Mark 10:45). And this time, He said all these things about His own passion “quite openly.” There was no longer any need for secrets to avoid confusion. It is clear that they understood what He said because Peter’s immediate response would be to attempt to convince our Lord from speaking in this fashion or even contemplating “political suicide”, which rightly earned our Lord’s rebuke: “Get behind me Satan!”

Peter and any of us speak with the voice of Satan whenever we try to reason away the cross or put forward a cheap form of discipleship which demands little or no sacrifice from us. This is what Satan attempts to do - present us with a saccharine saturated Christianity of nice platitudes, big promises of blessings, a final solution to all our troubles, but a path without the cross. Christianity without the cross is not Christianity at all, but a shabby, slimy substitute. The cross is what makes it Christian.

A gospel without the cross is a gospel of "self-sufficiency," "self-reliance." And a gospel of self-sufficiency is a gospel that claims to have no need for God or grace. Embracing the cross and following Christ means entrusting ourselves to His providence and care. It means placing our trust in Him and His grace rather than in our own resources, efforts and strength. The path of discipleship necessarily involves sacrifice. And sacrifice in order to be sacrifice needs to hurt. We often tend to shield ourselves and others from pain, failure, suffering, and setbacks, failing to realise that whenever we do so, we assume the position of Peter in wanting to avoid the cross. The cross in our lives does not spell destruction but actually entails salvation.

Giving the right answer is just the first piece of a puzzle. Living the right life is what completes it. This was the lesson St Peter had to learn and which each of us disciple-wannabes, must take to heart. The call to discipleship is radical and ultimately intertwined with the cross. The cross of our Lord Jesus is inseparable from the life of a Christian. We cannot claim to want to follow Christ if we are unwilling to renounce ourselves, take up our crosses and follow Him on the Way, which He has set for us. It goes without saying that Christ and the cross, are a package deal. But, instead of seeing it as a burden to endure, a peril to flee from or a curse which we cannot avoid, recognise the cross as the only way to salvation. There can be no resurrection if there was no cross. As St. Rose of Lima said, “Apart from the cross there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven.”

The Woman who bore God

Solemnity of Mary Mother of God

The first set of visitors to the bedside of the Blessed Virgin Mary after the birth of our Lord would have been most unexpected. Rather than kings or prophets or the aristocratic priestly caste coming to pay homage to the new born King of Kings, the gospel tells us that it was a motley crew of poor shepherds who were the first visitors, a group of people whose profession would have even been looked down by others because of their lowly state and the frequent association of their kind with petty thieves and others who engage in unsavoury work. But this would not be surprising if we knew our Scripture. God Himself had promised to shepherd His people through the prophecies of the prophets of old. So, shouldn’t the first ones to recognise this ominous event be the ones who would be most like this Shepherd King in the flesh? Birds of a feather do indeed flock together!

The Blessed Virgin Mary would have had a sense of this. She did not feel insulted by the presence of these shepherds nor withdraw in fear. She welcomed them and the message of the angels which they brought: “Today in the town of David a saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord”. And St Luke tells us that “she treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart.” To ponder and to enter into deep reflexion is one thing, but to “treasure” is on an entirely different level of appreciation.

In that tight space of a hollowed-out cave with little room for anything else than the animals who were stabled there, the Holy Family took refuge and the Word spoken at Creation and who brought the universe into existence was born and laid in a manger, a humble feeding trough for the animals. The space was crowded enough before the arrival of the guests. And yet that space was large enough to house the animals, the Holy Family and the shepherds who had come to worship the Saviour born that day. Once the Virgin Mary contained the Uncontainable, and her womb became more spacious than the heavens, the small grotto of Bethlehem has expanded to such a degree that it now houses true worshippers like the most cavernous basilica! We do not feel cramped here! We may feel cramped at church during the midnight service, but not here.

The Son of God was born on earth, yet He was not separated from heaven. He is babbling like an infant in the arms of His Mother and giving commands to the archangels and angels concurrently. It is precisely for this reason, that we affirm the title of His mother as Mother of God, or in Greek, Theotokos which literally means “God-Bearer,” the one who gave birth to God. This title was solemnly defined by the Council of Ephesus in 431 (although it has been widely used for centuries earlier) to mean that in the person of Jesus Christ, His humanity and divinity are inseparable. Jesus cannot be split up into two parts, one divine and the other human. This means that Mary cannot be simply the mother of the human Jesus without being also, in a genuine sense, the Mother of God.

The first Christians called Mary the “Mother of God” without hesitation. There was scriptural precedent, and it seemed logical. If Jesus was God, and Mary was his mother, then that made her the Mother of God. That sort of logic depends on a principle called the “Communication of Idioms.” According to that principle, whatever one says about either of Christ’s natures, can be truly said of Christ Himself. That’s because His two natures, the divine nature and the human nature, were united in Him. He is one divine person.

In the fifth century, however, some people raised the same objections to the title that many non-Catholics raise today: They argued that the title “Mother of God” implied that Mary was the “originator of God.” Those objectors said that they could accept the title “Mother of Christ,” but not “Mother of God.” At the heart of those objections, however, was an objection to the unity of Christ’s two natures. Mary, they claimed, gave birth only to Christ’s human nature, not His divine nature. The Church, led by Pope Celestine I and St. Cyril of Alexandria, disagreed. As St. Cyril pointed out, a mother gives birth to a person, not a nature. And the bishops at the Council of Ephesus sided with them and rejected the duality of natures proposed by Nestorius and his camp who could not come around to call Mary Mother of God.

Accordingly, Mary gave birth to Jesus Christ, who was and is a divine person. Although Mary did not “originate” or “generate” God, she did bear Him in her womb and give birth to Him. Mary did not give Jesus His divine nature or His divine personhood—those He possessed from all eternity as the only begotten Son of the Father. But she also didn’t just give Him His flesh: She gave birth to the whole person. She gave birth to Jesus Christ, both God and man. For this reason, we should not hesitate to acknowledge that Mary was God’s mother.

So, as we continue to spend time in prayer and meditation at the Christmas creche to honour the Saviour of the World, let us not forget His mother who stands watchful by His side. Together, with her, let us treasure all these things and ponder them in our hearts.

God is with us

Fourth Sunday of Advent Year A

If you’ve ever had the opportunity to walk into an Orthodox Church, your senses will be immediately assaulted by a delightful riot of colours - colourful icons lining the walls, and with the largest concentration of them on the iconostasis, the icon laced screen which separates the nave of the church from the sanctuary where the holy mysteries are celebrated. But one icon stands out and provides an easy point of focus to any visitor because it is usually present in the upper part of the altar, the apsidal vault, the focal point of any church. What does this image show, and what is behind its name?


The icon shows the Mother of God from the waist up, facing us, with her hands lifted up to the level of her head, elbows bent. From time immemorial this gesture has signified a prayerful appeal to God, and still are sometimes, called Oranta (Latin for praying). The Christ-child, Emmanuel, is depicted in a circle of light at her bosom. It almost has a fish bowl effect which allows us to peer into the womb of the Blessed Virgin. But instead of a not fully formed foetus, we are presented with a miniature version of an adult Christ (minus the facial hair) with His hands extended in benediction. Although first timers would conclude that this is an icon of the Holy Mother of God, a more reflective scrutiny gives the impression of Mary presenting us with Christ, and our attention is drawn – as always with icons of the Theotokos – to her Son, our Saviour. Mary is merely the frame, Christ her son is the masterpiece.

Though it has several names, the most common name for this icon is the Lady of the Sign. It derives its name from this passage which we just heard in the first reading: ‘The Lord himself, therefore, will give you a sign. It is this: the maiden is with child and will soon give birth to a son whom she will call Immanuel, a name which means “God-is-with-us.”’

This sign was a kind of a super bonus which God decided to give to Ahaz, even though the latter chose not to ask for it. For those who know the back story of Ahaz, this sudden refusal to ask God for a sign did not come from a good place, as if Ahaz did it out of humble obedience to God. In fact, Ahaz is considered to be one of the worst kings of Judah, and his own personal faults were compounded by an equally evil wife, Jezebel. Together, they epitomised the couple from hell. So, why would God “reward” this evil king with this promise of a sign?

Ahaz was about to be forced into an alliance, in a vain attempt to oppose the crushing military power of Babylon. For you Black Panther fans out there, think of this as something similar to the proposed alliance between Wakanda and Talokan - a marriage doomed for failure. The prophet Isaiah goes to Ahaz and warns him that the alliance would be fatal: he had better trust in the Lord rather than in human machinations. Isaiah promises a sign, which Ahaz refuses, not because he has a change of heart and does not want to put God to the test. The real reason for the refusal is simple - he does not want to be convinced! He doesn’t want to change his mind. But God will have none of this. Ahaz will get a sign, even if he chooses to reject it, because the sign will have a significance far greater than this political conundrum which Ahaz is facing. It would be a sign which will herald salvation, not just for Ahaz or for this moment but for all generations to come.

What is this sign? The original Hebrew simply reads, ‘A girl is with child and will bear a son’, indicating that within a few months the threat will vanish and Jerusalem will be convinced that God is on their side – hence the boy will be called Emmanuel, “God-is-with-us.”. But the Greek translation of the Hebrew, made some 200 years before the birth of Jesus, translates ‘The virgin (or maiden) is with child’, which the evangelist Matthew sees as a prophecy of the birth of Jesus from the Virgin Mary.

In the gospel, we have another man who is promised a sign but this man is the diametrical moral opposite of Ahaz in the Old Testament. Though he is a descendant of Ahaz and King David, St Joseph is described as a “man of honour,” or in some translations a “righteous man”. Unlike, his notorious ancestor, Joseph puts up no resistance to the angel’s message through the medium of a dream: ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because she has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son and you must name him Jesus, because he is the one who is to save his people from their sins.’ And St Matthew then adds the additional editorial note that this was to fulfil Isaiah’s prophecy: ‘The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son and they will call him Emmanuel.’

Although the prophecy says that “they will call him Emmanuel,” Mary and Joseph didn’t give their son that name. Instead, they followed the directions given specifically to them to name Him Jesus. As seen in today’s passage, the meaning of Emmanuel is ‘God-is-with-us.’ The promised child was given the name of Jesus, which means ‘God-saves.’ There is no contradiction between the two. God is with us not in some dormant or passive way. He is with us for one singular purpose - to save us.

So, today, even if you are not ready for a sign or feel any need for a sign, even if you have not asked for one, know this, that God will give you a sign; indeed, He has given you one, the only one that truly matters - His Son Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour. If you’ve ever asked for a sign from God, especially when you are at the crossroads and at a moment of decision, know this to be true - God has given you the sign: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son and they will call him Emmanuel.”

Think about it. Isn’t this the sign you’ve always craved? Haven’t your hearts been asking for nothing less than this – that God should know what it’s like to be you, to understand your deepest pain, your hardship, and your daily struggles. To learn what it means to be here, to be in your shoes, to be with us. That was the promise and this is the sign. God would come. And soon, very soon, we will celebrate His virgin birth. He came here to die. He came to free us from this world of sin. He came not just to be with us, but to make it so that we could forever be with Him. With Christians throughout the world and through the centuries, let us cry:

O Come O Come Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Christ is to be at the centre

Solemnity of Christ the King Year C

This year we witnessed the death of Queen Elizabeth II, whom many hailed as the last truly Christian monarch of the world, as many other nominally Christian monarchs had long abdicated their responsibilities as defenders of the Christian faith over the decades. In the midst of all the pomp and pageantry of the State funeral that stretched over a period of 10 days, there were two main reactions to the proceedings. Some could say that the comments, especially those coming from critics, were painstakingly predictable, as if being read off a script.

For the left leaning socialists and communists, this was another obscene and vulgar display of royal excesses and ostentation - a symbol of a dying empire and egregious colonial past, an unnecessary glorification of a non elected leader, which proved to be mortal like the rest of the hoi poloi, an imposition of Western culture (in the form of Christianity) over a more pluralistic world. But for many Christians (Catholics included), the rituals and ceremonies of the funeral of a Protestant monarch filled with medieval symbolism placed one thing in the forefront. God. As the symbols of authority and sovereignty were stripped away from the bier of the queen and as the cameras focused on these objects, we were reminded of this perennial truth - “all things passes, only God remains”.

Today’s feast is meant to have the same effect on us. It places Christ in the forefront. Today, we are asked not to place our attention nor focus on this past year’s accomplishments or even failures, and neither should we admire our trophies or scars, but our eyes should be fixed on the solitary but regal figure hanging on the cross. Condemned as a criminal for a crime He did not commit, a sentence which He could have avoided but didn’t, the King of the Universe performs His last act of kingship - He pardons a criminal and grants this man the reward and honour of paradise.

And it is interesting that when the first World Youth Day was instituted by Pope St John Paul II, he too had this intention in mind. Christ is to be at its centre, to be in the forefront. For many who have witnessed the almost Woodstock-like atmosphere of WYD celebrations, this attention seems odd. But to the young people, with “their questions, their openness, and their hopes,” the Church, the saintly pope said, must communicate “the certainty who is Christ, the Truth who is Christ, the love who is Christ.” This is the reason why Pope Francis announced last year that he was moving the celebration of World Youth Day to this feast of Christ the King: “The centre of the celebration remains the Mystery of Jesus Christ the Redeemer of Man, as Saint John Paul II, the initiator and patron of WYD, always emphasised.”

Let’s go back to the origins of today’s feast to understand its focus. By liturgical standards, today’s feast is relatively recent. It was only inaugurated at the end of 1925, the Jubilee Year which commemorated the anniversary of the First Ecumenical Council in Nicaea in 325 AD. The first ecumenical council defended the divinity of Christ against the Arian heresy which sought to dilute it. Now, on its anniversary, there were new issues which sought to dilute the centrality of Christ and His divinity.

At the turn of the twentieth century, the forces of secularism and humanism were advancing while that of the Church retreating. World War 1, described as the Great War or the War to end all wars, had left a devastating trail in Europe and beyond its shores. Pessimism, a sense of helplessness compounded by hatred among the nations, was overwhelming. The time was ripe for the rise of tyrants, and rise they did. Many considered the basics of morality and the teachings of the Church to be out of date, no longer relevant to modern society. Modern thinking allowed that, at most, Christ might be king in the private life of the individual, but certainly not in the public world. Some political regimes advocated the banishment of Jesus altogether, not only from society, but from the family as well.

In all these developments, Pope Pius XI saw that people were denying Christ in favour of a lifestyle dominated by secularism, material advantage and false hope created by the tyrants. Throughout the Jubilee Year of 1925, Pope Pius constantly emphasised the kingship of Christ as declared in the Creed: “His kingdom will have no end.” And so, on Dec. 11 of the jubilee year, as the Jubilee Year drew to a close, and in order to acknowledge perpetually the supremacy of Jesus Christ over all men, nations and earthly allegiances, the pope issued the encyclical Quas Primas, which added the feast of “Our Lord Jesus Christ the King” to the annual Church liturgical calendar.

A century later, this feast continues to speak loudly to our generation. We continue to be plagued by political leaders who wish to arrogate the power of God to themselves, to rewrite the moral rules of what is right or wrong, to take human life as if they were its creator, to dictate rules that would violate the conscience of every man and woman. The Solemnity of Christ the King holds out against these forces and seeks to remind mankind of what true power entails and where true power is to be found.

Pope Emeritus Benedict explains that the power of Christ, who has the cross as His throne and a circle of thorns as His crown, is to be seen in the light of what He has done for us through His sacrifice. The King shows us the true face of power through the powerlessness of the cross. Pope Benedict writes, this power “is not the power of the kings or the great people of this world; it is the divine power to give eternal life, to liberate from evil, to defeat the dominion of death. It is the power of Love that can draw good from evil, that can melt a hardened heart, bring peace amid the harshest conflict and kindle hope in the thickest darkness. This Kingdom of Grace is never imposed and always respects our freedom.”

My dear young people, as the Universal Church celebrates the faith that has been passed on down to you. Know this that as the world lures you with so many attractions which seek to gain your allegiance, there is only One whom you should rightly call Lord and Master. Only One whom you will not surrender your freedom but in which you can gain true freedom. Only One that shows that true power lies in the power of love - in giving, you receive; in dying to yourself you will gain eternal life; in losing all you will gain the greatest treasure of all. Only One who does not only speak Truth but is the truth while others can only offer opinions and lies. Only He alone must be at the front and centre of every decision of yours. Turn to Him and repeat the words of the good thief on the cross: “remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And we can be sure that His promise will one day be yours too: “today you will be with me in paradise.”

The face of Greatness

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

The behaviour of the Lord’s disciples, is both pitiful and amusing. Once again, He attempts to prepare them for what lies ahead by spelling it out clearly: “The Son of Man will be delivered into the hands of men; they will put him to death; and three days after he has been put to death he will rise again.” This is the second time our Lord speaks to them of His passion and yet, they remain confounded but were too ashamed to seek clarification. Perhaps, they did not want a repeat of what happened to Peter when our Lord publicly and harshly rebuked him. Or perhaps they were terrified that their worst fears might be confirmed - that our Lord will die as He had predicted.

There is deep irony in the disciples’ misplaced attention. Our Lord had barely finished describing His humiliating and excruciating death, and they are already conspiring to grab some glory of their own. We can only imagine what they were thinking as our Lord repeated His disturbing prediction. “We healed people in your name. We hung with you when others rejected you. We handed out the bread and fish to the 5,000. Don’t we deserve a little more than everyone else?” It’s ironic, foolish, and entitled thinking but it’s also outrageous and tragic.

But perhaps there is a little more understanding this time round. The fact that they were in the midst of discussing who is the greatest, may suggest that they were preparing for a succession plan - who will take over the mantle of leadership after our Lord’s departure? And in their simple but not so unreasonable reasoning, they believed that the most important criterion is this - the one who possesses all the necessary qualities to step into those massive shoes of our Lord - in other words, the one who is the greatest among them.

As they argued about the proper criteria which greatness is to be measured, they failed to see that our Lord had already shown them the example of greatness demonstrated by His own willingness to accept the cross - and they had totally missed this because their definition of greatness would have excluded failure, defeat, and humiliation. Suffering wasn’t on their checklist. They found this confusing and even offensive. Christ had just emphasised the reality of His death, and that His followers must follow Him, but these images of powerlessness and sacrifice have had little impact on the disciples’ values. They are grasping for power and status in the kingdom of heaven, whilst avoiding the cross.

Instead of hearing our Lord talk about His death and redefining greatness in terms of sacrifice — in terms of coming in last, for the sake of love — they are still fighting to be first. But our Lord had to remind them, “If anyone wants to be first, he must make himself last of all and servant of all”. This flies against the common understanding of greatness which entails priority or superiority over others. Great men are expected to have more influence, prestige and power over ordinary folks.

Instead, our Lord turns human thinking on its head: the only way for a Christian to be great is to put oneself last in priority. And this is not just a pious thought but must be expressed in concrete action - one must become a servant of all. In both the ancient and modern world, meekness and even humility are not seen as natural ingredients for success but rather, signs of weakness. The powerful expect to be served and showered with honour and only the weak end up shamefully having to serve others. But according to our Lord, true greatness will often engender weakness, surrender, defeat, and even death.

How would true Greatness look like? We have seen it as St John attests: “We are declaring to you what we have seen and heard, so that you too may share our life. Our life is shared with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:3). Jesus Christ is the face of greatness! When true Greatness came into our world, He was born in a stable and laid in a feeding trough for animals. He walked from town to town without a home, without a place to stay. He made some headlines with His message and miracles, but He made many more enemies. When the Son of God came, calling lowly fishermen to be His disciples, He kneeled and washed their filthy, undeserving feet. The King of kings — the greatest of all time — humbled Himself to the point of death, even the most shameful, painful kind of death. True Greatness lost His life in love for us. And true Greatness was revealed and glorified, not defeated at that grave.

Greatness, He says, belongs only to those who humble themselves like a child. The word for “child” in Aramaic and Greek, can also mean servant. So, the discussion on disciple servant-hood naturally transitions into disciple child-likeness. Our Lord is not claiming that children are naturally humble. What our Lord is emphasising is the objective reality of childhood. Adults are not expected to listen to children; it is children who are expected to listen and obey the adults. While adults teach and command, the child’s duty is to listen and obey. Children rely almost entirely on adults to survive, their lot is that of dependence, not independence. Likewise, Christians must cast off dreams of power or status, and like a child, learn to listen and obey and admit their ultimate dependence on God for all things.

But our Lord is not only using the child as a model for discipleship but also to explain the object of our service. We do not only show hospitality and serve the powerful and the rich, those who can reward us with favours or who can spare us their disfavours. Our Lord tells us: “Anyone who welcomes one of these little children in my name, welcomes me; and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” In other words, we have responsibilities toward those who seem the most helpless or inconsequential, those who are unable to repay us. In welcoming them, we are also welcoming the Lord and the One who sent Him. By according the respect and dignity to the powerless, the disciples are offering great honour to God.

Such principles are entirely at odds with the world’s way of doing things. So many around us are motivated by a desire to get ahead of the next guy. The VIPs get priority and enjoy privileges over the common folk. The underlings are meant to serve their superiors and not the other way round. And yet, our Lord teaches us otherwise: “If anyone wants to be first, he must make himself last of all and servant of all.” If you aspire to be great, give yourself to the small, mundane, easily over-looked needs around you, especially of the powerless and the voiceless. Always remember that authority is about service, not about gaining power. Expect no special privileges or benefits for being a Christian; instead, remember that your duty is to serve.