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.

Swimming against the tide

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boast of the Lord

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Malaysians have an uncanny way of boasting through self-deprecation. It is commonly regarded that braggarts are hated or deeply disliked. On the other hand, it is deemed polite in our cultural context to deflect praises by heaping insults on oneself and one’s achievements. Such deprecating mannerism extends to our children too. For example, if someone praises your child for being intelligent, you simply disagree by saying that he is just average or even not that smart. Or if someone were to say that your daughter is beautiful, you just politely differ by stating that her looks are just plain and ordinary. But this may be a not-so-subtle way of winning more praises, for humility is almost always considered a great virtue worthy of praise, just as boasting is viewed negatively as shameless self-promotion.

But there is really nothing wrong with stating something which is objectively true. It is not pure boastful bluster if it is true. In fact, denying the truth has nothing to do with humility but symptomatic of pride. This is what St Paul does in the second reading. In fact, he makes loud boasting and encourages all of us to boast too. What is the content of his boasting? In one sense, St Paul agrees that we have absolutely nothing to boast about when it comes to ourselves or our achievements: “The human race has nothing to boast about” but then adds that we do have something to boast about: “God has made members of Christ Jesus and by God’s doing he has become our wisdom, and our virtue, and our holiness, and our freedom.” St Paul then quotes scripture by stating this dictum: “if anyone wants to boast, let him boast about the Lord.”

The members in the Church in Corinth were full of themselves and often boasted of their spiritual gifts and wealth and so St Paul decides to provide them with a humbling reality check. The point which St Paul is making is simply this: we need to remember we are who we are because of God, we have achieved and accomplished everything worthwhile because of Him, whatever we possess is pure gratuity from God, whatever accolades we have received is due to Him. No one is a self-made man or woman. We have been created by God and continue to be sanctified and perfected by His hand. What we receive from Him, our salvation, sanctifying grace, the gift of eternal life, is not something we have earned or deserved through our own doing.

For one thing our sinfulness has damaged us, and our acts fall woefully short of God’s law of love. And yet, even if we were sinless, nothing human we could do would demand His grace. Not even human goodness can make a claim on a gift that comes from beyond our limited nature. By His own free gift God has become ours, and so is ours to boast of. Let him who boasts, says St Paul, boast of the Lord!

This is the reason why the values behind the Beatitudes listed in the gospel seem so foreign to so many people. If we are only paying attention to human achievements and see these as of utmost value, we will never be able to understand why poverty, hunger and thirst, meekness, grieving, persecution and suffering as something blessed and inherently good. The reason why these situations are considered blessed and causes for happiness is because the Beatitudes inherently point to and boast in God's doing rather than human achievement. They highlight a radical, counter-cultural way of life that is only made possible by God's grace and transforming power, not by one's own strength or merit.

The first beatitude, "happy are the poor in spirit; theirs is the kingdom of heaven," is foundational. It requires individuals to acknowledge their complete spiritual inadequacy and utter dependence on God, an attitude that shatters self-sufficiency and pride. This realisation forces a reliance on God's Providence and mercy alone. The blessings promised in the Beatitudes are God's gifts, not earned rewards. The ability to live a life characterised by these virtues—such as being merciful or pure in heart or being a peacemaker —is a result of the Holy Spirit working within us, conforming us to the image of Christ. In essence, the Beatitudes highlight that the transformed life of a follower of Jesus is a testament to God's work, power, and grace, not personal strength or achievement. They are a "blueprint for true happiness" that can only be followed with God's help.

Our God has no need of our praise. He is not so conceited (unlike us) that He constantly desires our adulations. He doesn't crave for our attention or affirmation as we obsessively do. It is also good to remember that God is not diminished by the lack of praises offered to Him, neither is He empowered by any amount of praise which we can offer Him. But it is we who are diminished when we forget to praise Him, to thank Him, to adore Him. We are made for this purpose. We were made to worship God, to give Him all glory and praise. So, when we fail to do so, we become less than human. When we do not worship God, we end up worshipping something else and in this age of acute narcissism, the most popular object of worship is ourselves. This is the reason why it is more common to boast of our own achievements than it is to boast of God’s goodness and graces.

And that is also the reason why the Holy Mass, the highest form of worship to God, is the greatest antidote to our narcissism. Why do so many people complain that Mass is boring? My answer is simply this – the Mass is inherently boring because it is not about us but about God. God is worshipped, not man. The Mass is not another opportunity to showcase our talents or achievements. When we examine what it means to experience “boredom”, it is that we are not the centre of the attention. Something or some activity is described as boring because we are not getting the attention we want from others.

So let us boast by praising not ourselves but God, not for anything we have of ourselves, but for what He has given us! This is at the heart of our worship rendered in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass which is our Thanksgiving offered to God. Let our hearts and our minds nurture His gifts, until He grants us our reward, that we may sing His praises forever in heaven! All glory and all praise belong to Him and Him alone!

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”.

Strangers, Pilgrims and Exiles

Solemnity of the Most Holy Family

Last night, His Grace Archbishop Julian officially launched our year long 125th Jubilee Celebration which will conclude on this Feast in 2026. As many of you know, we have received a special decree from the Apostolic Penitentiary on this occasion granting a plenary indulgence to the Christian faithful and all pilgrims during this Jubilee Year. If you feel that you would just need to play host to pilgrims from other parishes, do not fret. You get to be pilgrims yourselves.

What does it mean to be a pilgrim? Many of you would have undertaken pilgrimages to local shrines and some have even visited many international sites. Despite the vast experiences that is available to us, there remains much confusion as to what it means to be a pilgrim. Under the current format for modern pilgrimages, comfort seems to be an essential criterion - comfortable buses, comfortable and moderately luxurious hotels, sumptuous and delicious food selection that suits our local palette and an itinerary that gives value for our money. In other words, most modern pilgrims would only agree to make the journey provided that they can bring the comfort of their homes with them. No sweat, no pain, no sacrifice.

But this is furthest from what a pilgrim is meant to be. St Peter, in his first epistle, tells us that we Christians are meant to be strangers and aliens in a foreign land. There must be a growing sense of disconnect with what is familiar and comfortable to us in order that we may grow in connexion with God. Pope Benedict XVI beautifully describes the process: “to go in pilgrimage is not simply to visit a place to admire its treasures of nature, art or history. To go on a pilgrimage really means to step out of ourselves in order to encounter God where He has revealed Himself, where His grace has shone with particular splendour and produced rich fruits of conversion and holiness among those who believe.” And this is what we witness in the lives of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

We Catholics often view the Holy Family as the quintessential model for family life. But I would like to propose to you that the Holy Family is also a model for pilgrims. They teach us how to “step out of ourselves in order to encounter God.” The Holy Family were no strangers to pilgrimages. In fact, they would have been seasoned pilgrims. They would have faithfully made three annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem for the great feasts. You may recall the story of how our Lord was lost and found in the Temple on one of those occasions. Though the synoptic gospels (with the exception of St Luke) did not mention this annual ritual in the life of the Holy Family, St John shapes and structures his gospel around these pilgrimage festivals. One last time during Holy Week, our Lord travelled to the holy city for the great Passover. On this last occasion, His mother travels with Him faithfully, experiencing her true labour pains at the foot of the Cross, as a sword of sorrow pierces her heart, fulfilling Simeon’s prophecy at the Presentation (Lk 2:35).

The observance of the annual cycle of making pilgrimages to Jerusalem thrice a year is not the only reason we can speak of the Holy Family as a model for pilgrims. Each of them had experienced personally and together as a family a spiritual form of pilgrimage that exhibited their deep faith and obedience to God’s will. St Joseph showed unwavering obedience to God when he took Mary as his wife and in today’s gospel, led his family to Egypt to escape the clutches of the cruel King Herod. The dislocation of an entire family in ancient times was no small matter, but the Holy Family was reliving the experience of the patriarch Abraham who ventured far from his homeland and the Israelites who were rescued from slavery as they made their way to the Promised Land. They had to be uprooted from the familiar in order to be rooted in what God has planned for them. Despite all the uncertainties and radical changes they had to endure, God remained their firm anchor. Wherever God was and is and will be, they were “home!”

The Holy Family were not only fellow pilgrims but offered hospitality to other pilgrims. Both Joseph and Mary received pilgrims in the form of the Magi who came to worship the newborn king and offer their gifts of devotion, just as this parish dedicated to the Holy Family opens our arms to welcome pilgrims for this Jubilee Year. The experience of the Magi begs this question: what have we brought along with us on this pilgrimage to offer to God?

Mary after receiving the visit of the Angel Gabriel would make her own pilgrimage to visit her cousin Elizabeth where she would sing of God’s wondrous works and care for His people. St Joseph, at the end of his earthly sojourn on this earth, would make his final pilgrimage to heaven at his death. That is why Catholics should pray to him seeking a happy death. After the death of Joseph, Mary would accompany her Son on a journey of discipleship that will eventually take her to the foot of the cross. She too would make her final journey to be reunited with her Son when she was assumed into heaven, body and soul.

Our pilgrimage of life can become another “school of Nazareth” where human virtues blossom in the deepest love and devotion. The Holy Family teaches us to “step out of ourselves,” trust in God’s plan, cherish our friendships, embrace simplicity, persevere through challenges, prioritise our spiritual lives, and cultivate love and respect in our relationships. A pilgrimage is an occasion of daily faithfulness and kindness, where Christ is always at the centre of our lives, with prudence shaping all the decisions of the day, great and small, and patience in bearing with each other. Despite great hardships, poverty and uncertainty, the Holy Family accepted all suffering with a spirit of faith and filial trust in God. Even the most painful events did not disturb the harmony and peace of the Holy Family, because God always came first and everything is done according to His Will. May this be our response as well when we encounter difficulties along life’s journey.

Friends, we are only passing through this difficult and dangerous world. We are strangers, pilgrims, and exiles far away from home. We are on a journey to our true home in heaven. Constantly remembering this will protect us from falling prey to sins of the flesh and the strongholds of sin coming from an alluring world. Let us learn from the Holy Family to be sufficiently disconnected from this world, so that we may be connected with each other in our families, in our communities, in our Church and with God now and forever in Paradise. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, be with us on this journey. Amen.

Increase our Faith

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Value of Discomfort

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finding Power in Powerlessness

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We need Disciples, not Volunteers

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fire and Baptism

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We are prophets of a future not our own

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

There is irony in the mission which our Lord entrusted to His disciples. On the one hand, He does not soften the blow by assuring them that the mission will be easy. In fact, He tells them from the outset that they will be sent into hostile territory where they will inevitably face opposition, sometimes subtle and sometimes explicit: “I am sending you out like lambs among wolves.” The contrast couldn’t be more stark.

Sheep are prey animals, what more when you are a young lamb. Sheep are defenceless. They can’t fight, so they can only flee or huddle together when threatened. Their best chance of survival is to stay close to the larger flock and under the care of a shepherd who serves as their personal bodyguard. Leaving the flock would only mean certain death. And yet, it is our Lord who commands them to leave the safety of His pastoral care and venture out in the wide world on their own. The imagery invokes this frightening prospect – they will be easy prey for predators.

And this is what our Lord promises will precisely happen to us. We are not sent out into a Christian friendly world and we should not live under the illusion that we would be warmly welcomed. It will be a world hostile to our values, indignant to our presence and in clear opposition to what we stand for. Using the image of a wolf or perhaps even a wolf pack in contrast to us hapless lambs is meant to highlight the risks of our adventure.

But instead of equipping ourselves with necessary weapons which would ensure our safety, like a big stick or being armed to the hilt like Rambo, we should go forth unencumbered by things which would provide us with additional security. Our presence in the world should be one of innocence, wishing no offence on anyone and yet treated by others as offensive just by existing. Furthermore, our message should be a simple one: “Peace to this house!” No warning of retaliation to any potential threat like: “If you touch me, you will be obliterated!”

“Peace be to this house!” The Hebrew term sālom', or shalom (or the longer greeting “Shalom eleichem”), is typically translated as "peace" and was used in ancient greetings and farewells as of today, much as the Arabic “Assalamualaikum”. Shalom can mean the opposite of war, but it also refers to completeness, soundness, and welfare; it includes a sense of calm security in circumstances and relationships. In an Israelite context, wishing someone shalom means to say, "May God be with you." For ultimately, such peace could only be attained when one’s will was in total harmony with the will of God, when our thinking is aligned with His.

Our Lord doesn’t stop here. He seems to micromanage the entire adventure of these disciples. They were to take nothing with them–no money, no change of clothes, no itinerary. There is to be an urgency to their mission - no extra time to exchange pleasantries with people on the road. And when they enter a town, they were to accept hospitality from the first person who offered it. They shouldn’t be picky with regard to their accommodation or look around for better housing. But then our Lord adds this practical advice. When they encounter hostility, our Lord instructed them to just leave and shake off the dust from their feet while doing so. When people reject us and our message, He gives us permission to depart with no regrets. This assignment is rather amazing from a modern perspective. Do you know any person who would set out on a trip with no luggage, no money (or credit cards), no schedule, no clear strategy, and no host organisation or family to greet them at their destination? That’s a crazy way to travel, right? Sorry, but in this case, it was the Lord’s way to do missions.

But what is more surprising is the brevity and the simplicity of the message which they were to proclaim: “The kingdom of God is very near to you.” What or who precisely is this Kingdom? In terms of a succinct explanation, no one does it better than Pope Benedict XVI of happy memory who wrote: “the Kingdom is not a thing, it is not a geographical dominion like worldly kingdoms. It is a person; it is He… By the way in which He speaks of the Kingdom of God, Jesus leads men to realise the overwhelming fact that in Him God Himself is present among them, that He is God’s presence.” (Pope Benedict, Jesus of Nazareth, Part 1)

When, the disciples returned to give a report of their successes, our Lord’s answer that He saw Satan fall is an important corrective to their skewed understanding. Satan fell not because of the disciples’ efforts. It was not something which had just happened. The fall of Satan before time was witnessed by our Lord who existed before time. In fact, it is the Lord who caused the fall of Satan and his minions. It is the Lord who has established His own kingdom, whereas we His disciples, are merely invited to share in His victory and the benefits thereof. If Christ had not won the victory, our efforts would be futile. Ultimately, there is no reason to boast of what we’ve done. Rather, should we be given an opportunity to boast, we should boast of what the Lord has done for us. This is precisely what St Paul tells us to do in the second reading: “the only thing I can boast about is the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world.”

Our mission is best summarised in the beautiful prayer written by Fr Ken Untener and attributed to martyred Archbishop of San Salvador, St Oscar Romero:

“It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us. No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church's mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything”.

“This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realising that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.”

The Drama of our Salvation

Good Friday

Why are many folks, who do not understand a single word of Korean, glued to every episode of a Korean drama and would even skip meals, family time and church, so as not to miss the next intriguing episode? The short and simple answer is the drama - the drama that sucks the viewer into the very scene, the emotions of the characters, the perplexity, twist and turn of the plot playing out on the screen.

Today’s passion reading is like that. We are sucked into the drama of the narrative as we even assume the role and the voices of the blood thirsty crowd in a kind of liturgical flash mob. Perhaps, with greater intensity because it is based on “true events” and the protagonist is not some actor playing a role but the Son of God Himself, in the flesh. Like every well-written drama, within the Passion account, we find every kind of human emotion expressed. There is jealousy, betrayal, anger, fear, hypocrisy, falsification of truth, perjury, failure or denial of justice, abandonment, torture, death – and within this, a Love of an impossible kind, a love that binds and unites.

But unlike the actors who are merely acting on the silver screen for our entertainment, all the characters of the Passion story are real. Every word, every action, every accusation, every spit, every slap, every nail, every scourge, every drop of blood or opened wound was real - no one was play acting and none of these were mere props. Our Lord was not acting. He truly suffered the violence inflicted on Him by His enemies, the betrayal directed against Him by His own disciples, and the death which was imposed on Him by the Roman authorities at the behest of the Jewish religious leadership. If it was all just acting, we would just have sighed with relief and praised the actors for a starling performance. But because it was all real, we have reason to be thankful for our sins have really been forgiven, the guilt we have incurred has really been lifted and Death which pursues every man and woman has really been defeated.

The passion narrative of Good Friday is full of movement and action - sitting, fleeing, sleeping, standing. But it is the standing which takes the cake. Many of you may have felt the pressure on your legs building up as you stood throughout the passion gospel reading. In my younger days as a priest, I used to issue a preliminary instruction that doesn’t appear in the rubrics to ask everyone who couldn’t stand that long, to remain seated. I used to think it was plain mindless superstition that no one took that instruction seriously and kept standing, both old and young. It was my hubris disguised as compassion that saw them in this light. Today, a bit wiser and humbled by a tad bit more experience, I have come to realise that it is not stubborn foolishness but loving devotion that kept people standing as they heard and participated in the drama of the passion narrative. Unlike the disciples who fled in fear, you have decided to stand with Jesus, and to stand for Him, as did a few women and St John, the Beloved Disciple.

We hear in the text, and only here in the Gospel of St John, “Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala … and the disciple he loved standing near her.” Not standing at a distance like in St Mark’s account, but here beside the cross, up close and personal. So close that they were within hearing range of the last words of Christ and that John could later write that he was an eyewitness of the events and did not come to this knowledge through hearsay. They were so close that they were within range of the insults, ridicule and rage hurled at our Lord and perhaps subjecting themselves too to the risk of being arrested and similarly sentenced. It took courage. But more importantly, it took love. Perfect love casts out all fear!

I take this position of standing, as the highlight and climax of our participation in the drama of Good Friday. It is no wonder that the primary devotion for Lent is the Way of the Cross, where we pause (or at least done by the priest and servers) and stand before each Station of the Cross. The word “station” comes from the Latin “statio.” And the word statio derives from the Latin verb sto, “to stand” and signified how early Christians gathered and “stood with” the local clergy, bishop, patriarch or the pope himself in prayer. Statio also was a Roman military term meaning “military post.” Like soldiers we stand. Wasn’t it Moses who instructed the Israelites with these words when they were pursued by the Egyptian army: “Stand firm, and you will see what the Lord will do to save you today …The Lord will do the fighting for you: you have only to keep still’? Statio, therefore, also means a vigilant commitment to conversion and to prayer.

So, on this day as we commemorate the Passion and Death of our Lord, as we reenact the whole drama of salvation, let us imitate Mary, the Beloved Disciple and the other women as they stood by the cross. Though the story of our Lord’s passion is filled with betrayal, jealousy and false accusations, patterns we recognise in our own lives, behaviours which destroy and rip apart relationships, the last act of our Lord on the cross is to bring reconciliation and union. Despite the barbs that had been hurled at Him, wounds which would have hardened the hearts of the strongest men to become resentful and loveless, He pours out His last act of love on these two individuals representing His Church and brought them together in an inseparable bond of fraternity and maternity. “Woman, this is your son.” “This is your mother.”

Today we DON’T celebrate death, we celebrate the life we receive through the cross. We celebrate that Jesus waits high on His cross to take away our death, whether it be physical, moral, or mental. The Church has endured much drama. Each of us who are members of the Body of Christ have endured much drama - betrayal, envy, false accusations and loss. And yet, the story does not end in failure, defeat and resentment. If we choose to stand with our Lord to the very end because we have not decided to flee out of fear or self-preservation, or walked away out of boredom, or decided to leave early because we think the story is over, we will see the amazing ending of the story. The story ends with reconciliation, not disintegration. But even that is not the real ending.

If you do not return tomorrow and the day after, you would have missed the most important post-credits that really define the whole story and unravel the mystery of what you’ve witnessed today. While you may be currently struggling with some crisis or other, in your prayerfulness, in your life, turn over everything to the Lord. Your pain, your hurts, your loss, your addiction, your crisis - turn all that “drama,” turn everything over to the Lord. In these uncertain times: Remember, Death is defeated. Only Jesus has the power. Only His love is stronger than death. Don’t take my word for it. Come back tomorrow night or on Sunday and see for yourself.