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.

The Harvest comes later

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swimming against the tide

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Kingdom of Priests, A Consecrated Nation

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Call to Mission

Pentecost Sunday

Any discussion of the Second Vatican Council often exposes a bi-polarity within the Church. We are still living today in the aftermath of the Council - debate and discussion continues about the nature of the council, its inner workings, and the interpretation of the documents it produced. Spend enough time in the online Catholic world and you know this to be true. For some, it is the best thing since sliced bread was invented, an impetus for growth and change in the Church that had been far too long fossilised by its Traditions and man-made rules. On the other end of the spectrum, some view this Council as the most pernicious weapon of the Enemy, the portal by which the smoke of Satan had infiltrated Holy Mother Church, resulting in her decline and eventual destruction by promoting endless heresies and schisms.

It’s good to return to the intention of Pope St John XXIII who opened the Second Vatican Council with a prayer to the Holy Spirit to “renew your wonders in our day as by a new Pentecost.” What did he mean and how does this idea of a new Pentecost help explain some of the motivation behind the council? To understand the Council, one would need to revisit the story of Pentecost and what it means for us, the Church.

We see in both the story of Pentecost in the first reading and that of the first Easter in the gospel, the disciples in a somewhat similar situation, at least on the surface. In the gospel, the disciples were hiding in the upper room behind closed doors “for fear of the Jews.” This could be the best allegory to describe the position of many leaders within the Church during the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century. Since the middle of the nineteenth century, the Catholic Church had been on the defensive. In the battle against liberalism, socialism and communism it was anti-modernism that dominated its image. When you are in a defensive mode, you secure your defences, board up your windows, barricade your gates and surround yourself with a moat that prevents entry as well as anyone choosing to exit. But our Risen Lord can break through any defences as He did on that first Easter evening. And the first words He uttered are the very words we need to hear when we are trapped in fear: “Peace be with you!”

In the story of the first Pentecost which we heard in the first reading, the disciples are gathered once again in the upper room behind closed doors, but they do so not out of fear but obedience to the Lord that they should remain vigilant in prayer while waiting for the descent of the Holy Spirit. Their default impulse would be to flee but now they chose to remain in obedience. Things have changed. And things would undergo a greater change with the coming of the Holy Spirit. Not only would the door and windows of their room be thrown open but also their hearts would be reinvigorated to go out to the whole world to proclaim the good news.

The Pentecost event is a decidedly evangelical one: instead of being huddled away from fear of what lay outside, when the Holy Spirit came upon the apostles it gave them precisely what Jesus promised it would give them: power to become witnesses to Jesus ‘throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth’ (Acts 1:8). Such was their fervour and excitement that people thought they were drunk (2:13). Peter was boldly able to stand before the crowd and preach the good news that Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified, had been raised from the dead, and now the forgiveness of sins and life in the Holy Spirit was possible (2:38). The recovery of this evangelical spirit is one of the intentions of the Second Vatican Council, as well as to speak in a language that was intelligible to people.

As Bishop Robert Barron is fond of saying, the Second Vatican Council was intended to be a “missionary council,” that is the council aimed at transforming the world, rather than just settling technical doctrinal disputes like earlier councils. The progressives, as much as they believe that they are forward looking, are actually quite inward looking, in that they seem to be obsessed with what they believe to be “not working” in the Church. Such a hyper critical attitude is not evidence of humility but rather narcissism, intending to make the Church in our image and likeness rather than to rediscover and reinvigorate her core mission to preach the gospel to the ends of the earth. The imagery of opened doors and windows is not meant to suggest that one should throw out all that is old and stuffy by letting the fresh air of the world enter. What you get may not be fresh air but “the smoke of Satan” as mentioned by Pope St Paul VI. Rather the opened windows and doors of the Church serve as a challenge to all of us to go into the world to transform it with the values of the gospel. This is the “new Pentecost.”

Pentecost is a permanent invitation to the Church and to every Christian to renew their commitment to the evangelising mission. The Holy Spirit gives His charisms, or spiritual gifts, to each believer to build up the community and carry out the mission of evangelisation. Pentecost reminds us that every Christian, thanks to the presence of the Holy Spirit, has the power and responsibility to be a witness to the faith and to contribute to the spread of the Gospel.

Many Catholics are only comfortable to huddle together and talk only privately about the Lord behind closed doors but are afraid to go out of the doors of the Church and speak a word about the Lord. Perhaps they will be laughed at, scorned or asked questions they cannot answer. The general Catholic approach in terms of evangelisation does not seem to be to open the doors and go out but, rather to open the doors and hope people come in. But Christ said “GO.” And still we huddle together fearfully and with an inward focus. We spend most of our time talking about inward things like what colour to paint the church walls or the repair works that need to be done in the women’s restroom, who will be the new president of this ministry or that, or when will Father take notice of me. All perhaps important issues to resolve but the main mission of evangelisation is neglected and we focus on inward things too much.

Outside the church doors is a world that needs to hear from us, but still we huddle together, timid and fearful of opening the doors and going out. The Holy Spirit is present here in this church but He also wants to be out there for others. So, let us not keep the Holy Spirit locked up behind the closed doors of our fears but it is time to unleash Him in a new Pentecost. Pentecost is not just about personal renewal—it’s about mission. The Spirit empowers us to share the Gospel, to speak truth, and to witness to Christ in word and action. Sharing the Gospel doesn’t have to be complicated. A simple conversation, a word of encouragement, or a testimony of what God has done in your life can become a channel for the Holy Spirit to work through you. Pentecost isn’t just an event to remember—it’s a reality to live. The same Spirit who filled the apostles is available to us today. As you celebrate Pentecost, receive a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and share the Gospel with boldness and joy.

God first, Others second, me last

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Many of you would know that I am not a man of few words. In fact, there will be some of you who will complain that I often suffer from the predilection of having too many words - a condition called verbal diarrhoea. So, if you would like me to just give you the summary of all that I’ve spoken of in a nutshell, I guess it would come in this simple life hack, “God first, others second, me last!”

Let’s take the first part of that dictum - God first above all else. We have St Paul in the second reading telling the Corinthians that his oratory skills were not meant for self-aggrandisement but rather he had come to them in weakness and with “great fear and trembling”, in order to demonstrate “the power of the Spirit.” His entire witnessing was not to showcase “human philosophy” or the greatness of human thinking, but rather to highlight or spotlight “the power of God.” It’s good for all of us to make this a rule of life. Instead of seeking to be in the spotlight, drawing attention to ourselves, seeking the praises and approval of others, let our every action rather be one which glorifies God and God alone, even at the expense of showing up our weakness and limitations.

Isaiah in the first reading takes up the second portion of the dictum, if God comes first, then others must always come second. To a people who believe that righteousness and holiness is only confined to “looking” holy or be seen to be doing “holy things,” Isaiah instead sets out God’s command to serve others, especially the weak and the marginalised. He is contrasting genuine service of the Lord with the merely exterior practices of religion, the conventional ways in which we may seem to be ‘holy’ people. In fact, however, holiness is all a matter of the heart, and – at any rate in this text – mostly a matter of seeing and serving God in other people. That is the only way our light can really shine in the darkness, and our own wounds be healed over.

In today’s gospel, instead of being prescriptive like what the first and second reading does, our Lord uses metaphors which are descriptive - to speak of how we are to put God first and others second. He tells us that we are “the salt of the earth” and “the light of the world”. In addition to these familiar metaphors, our Lord adds a third, a “city.” The Greek etymology of the word for city (polis) links it to its people (poloi), to its human residents. All three metaphors have something in common. Salt does not exist for itself, but to season or preserve things; light does not exist for itself, but to brighten its surroundings; the city on the hill is constructed to provide security to its residents. The purpose and excellence of each item lies in its potential to give something to others. Salt, light and a city only exist to serve others.

So, what do we Christians have to offer others when we think of these three metaphors? The first is attraction. Good food attracts, beautiful lights attract, well-planned cities attract. This is a reminder that one of the most powerful ways of evangelisation is by showcasing the beauty of Christ, the beauty of the Christian faith and the beauty of the Church. Pope Francis reminds us that “it is not by proselytising that the Church grows, but by attraction.” (Evangelii Gaudium # 15) St. Francis de Sales, who drew many Protestants back to the Catholic faith through his gentle evangelisation, tells us that “a spoonful of honey attracts more flies than a barrel full of vinegar.” His example shows us that a life of Christian charity, virtue, and devotion can draw many souls to Christ and His Church.

But these metaphors also remind Christians that we are also meant to reveal, to expose and finally to defend. What is most immediately obvious in these metaphors is the implication that there is something deficient in the world that we live in. By saying that we are the “salt of the earth,” is implying that the world is tasteless. There is a rot setting in, which is tearing our world apart. Also, with the image of light that our Lord introduces, there is the implication that this world is a dark place. The world is in need of refreshing light—life-giving light. People are filling the void with stuff and senseless pleasures, countless things that do not satisfy. And finally, when speaking of us as a “city on a hill”, the world is shown up for its hostility and inhospitality, where so many are seeking for refuge, for sanctuary, for a place to call “home”. The truth is that we are witnessing a world that has become increasingly darker, blander, and uninhabitable.

As “salt”, the Christian is to counteract the power of sin. As “light” we are to illuminate or make visible. As a “city on a hill” we are meant to provide a sanctuary to those who are lost or spiritually homeless. Our lives are to be an on-going witness to the reality of Christ's presence in our lives. As salt, light and a city built on a hill, we are meant to give testimony to the profound joy of walking with God. We become salt and light when the world sees us turning to God rather than inwardly towards ourselves, when we touch lives for good, when we affirm rather than gossip and criticise, listen rather than judge, forgive rather than get even. The Church is meant to be a beacon of hope in a world lost in moral confusion and enveloped in the darkness of sin. That beacon is bright and unmistakable in its purpose. It warns of danger. It directs to safe harbour. It provides hope for those who have lost hope. Ultimately, we are meant to “reveal” that Christ is that certain security from danger; He is our safe harbour, and ultimately He is the true source of light. We are meant to be beacons showing the way to Him.

We will soon be entering the season of Lent in another two weeks and we will be reminded on the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday, to NOT pray, give alms and fast in public for the sole purpose of attracting attention to ourselves and seeking the praises of others. How do we reconcile that warning with what we have heard today? Here’s a good rule of thumb. When it comes to God and drawing others to Him, we should never hide our light, dull our taste or isolate ourselves. But when it comes to showcasing ourselves, we must choose to hide our light, mask our edge and retreat into the shadows so that only the light of Christ may shine brightly for others to see. The former witnesses to Christ, while the latter only seeks to promote oneself. The former seeks praises for God, the second seeks praises for oneself.

The option of living a sheltered secluded life is never open to us. The Lord does not need a Church that hides and isolates itself from the world. Rather, God needs Christians who live exemplary and visible Christian lives in the world and demonstrate that joy and fulfillment that come not of the world but through the life in the Spirit and the radical following of Christ. And so, God calls us into the darkness where our light will make a difference – to illumine and expose. He calls us among those who find life utterly tasteless—to be salt – to create a spiritual thirst for God. He calls us to societies made up of lonely, isolated and individualistic persons – to build a city, a community of love, life and peace. When doing so, always remember: “God first, others second and me last.” Ultimately “you must shine in the sight of men, so that, seeing your good works, they may give praise to your Father in heaven.”

The Gold Standard of Hospitality

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Heaven in popular imagination invokes a brightly lit realm above the clouds, a realm devoid of walls, private spaces or homes, where the heavenly denizens are free to roam and wander at will with no one complaining about another invading their private space. But our Lord’s own description seems far from this: “In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:2) At one level, the Jews who first heard these words would have thought immediately of the Temple. If God was indeed Jesus’ father, the Temple which is God’s House (literally this is what the Hebrew word “Bethel” meant) is the “Father’s house” which our Lord is referring to in this text. The Temple of Jerusalem was indeed made up of several rooms or spaces and the closer you get to the inner sanctum of the Temple, the more groups of people would be excluded. For all purposes, it was not a very welcoming or hospitable house.

So, our Lord’s reference to the “Father’s house” which He was returning to, the house with “many rooms”, the house where He was preparing a place to welcome us, could not possibly be referring to this building. In the year 70 AD, after the siege of Jerusalem, the Temple would be destroyed by the Romans, the Jews would be dispersed to the far corners of the empire, and they would be a homeless and stateless nation as once their ancestors were in Egypt and later in Babylon. For our Lord, the true home which He was preparing, would not just be a place to visit, but one to stay. It would be a “dwelling place.”

This is at the heart of God’s hospitality that we encounter in today’s set of readings. The first reading and the gospel provides us with two stellar examples of hospitality - Abraham and Martha. But there is a twist to the ending of both tales demonstrating that as much as we wish to offer hospitality to others and to God, it is we who are the real beneficiaries of hospitality, especially of God’s.

The first reading is not just a story of Abraham’s hospitality offered to his visitors, but more importantly, it is the hospitality offered by the three visitors, which Christians would later identify as the Most Holy Trinity, to Abraham. Our attention is usually focused on the acts of hospitality which Abraham shows to his guests, but are we correct in doing so? The ending of the story which tells us how the three guests would bless Abraham and his seemingly barren wife, both in their old age, with a child, should be the key that unlocks the secret of this tale.

When Abraham gives his guests water, who really gives the water of life? When Abraham refreshes them by washing their feet, who really makes who clean? And when Abraham offers them bread, who really gives the bread of life? If you can figure out this riddle, you are one step closer to enlightenment. I’ll give you a clue… it isn’t Abraham who is the giver of all gifts. This isn’t a story about ordinary hospitality. And neither is the Gospel reading too. It wasn’t Abraham who was really being hospitable. It was God, God giving Abraham the bread of life and the water of life and the washing of salvation.

We turn our attention to the gospel. In wanting to show hospitality to the Lord, Martha expresses hostility towards her own sister whom she believes is unsympathetic to her hard work in the kitchen. For Martha, the “better part" of hospitality is to make her guest feel welcomed, accepted, and loved. Many of us would agree with her.

But our Lord by pointing to the action of Mary shows us that the “better part” is to sit at His feet and listen to His life-giving Word. The best hospitality we can give to the Lord is to listen to Him, which is another way of saying, to accept His hospitality.

Throughout scriptures, it is God who offers hospitality to us. The two bookends of the Bible speak of God’s hospitality - Eden and the Heavenly Jerusalem, both representative of God’s desire to dwell with us and among us. Everything that comes in-between shows God’s unwavering attempt to draw estranged fallen humanity home - whether it be through the establishment of a family of nations under the patriarchs, the call of the prophets to return to the covenants and finally the sending of His only begotten Son to save mankind.

Rather than assume that we can do something exceedingly great for God like Martha, we should imitate Mary in her docility in humbly accepting the gift of hospitality from Jesus, which is salvation. Our place is at His feet in humble adoration and submission. And unless, we recognise that our place is at His feet instead of arrogantly barking orders to others or even to God in order to get our way, our feeble attempts at hospitality would only result in more hostility. The best thing we can do for God, to please Him, is to accept His hospitality without any conditions. The astounding paradoxical truth is this: we don’t serve God. God serves us. We don’t need to feed God. God feeds us. We don’t need to provide for God. God provides for us. We don’t need to protect God. God heals and holds us in our brokenness. We don’t need to sacrifice to God. God has already sacrificed Himself for us.

Both of these apparently simple but exceedingly profound biblical stories offer a guiding word to Christians who yearn and thirst for hospitality, as we struggle to offer the warmth of hospitality to others. At this and every Eucharist, God invites us to the altar of His perfect sacrifice, to the meal which is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, to have a seat at the table and share in the fellowship of the Most Holy Trinity. It is here where we will be fed, we will be refreshed, and where we are saved. As we nervously approach the altar, fully aware of our unworthiness, we hear the Lord who beckons to us, as how He had gently spoken to Abraham, Mary and Martha: “Come… sit down… and taste. Fret no longer in what you can do but pay attention to what I can do for you. With me you will learn love. With me you will discover life. With me you will find a most welcoming eternal home.” If we have received such astounding hospitality at the hands of God, it should not be difficult for us to share a fraction of that with others. Remember: “You received without charge, give without charge.”

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.”

A Time to Keep Silent, A Time to Speak Out

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

One of the most important pieces of advice someone would give us is “make your voice be heard.” Whether it is to express your opinion at a meeting, or speaking up in class, or starting a podcast to air your views or participating in a demonstration in support of some political cause, making your voice heard seems to be a reasonably good piece of advice.

On this first day of Holy Week, we Christians are reminded of our fundamental duty to make our voices heard, not in the sense of self-promotion or drawing attention to oneself, nor in seeking to influence others and win them over to our side, but that we may proclaim the wonders of God’s work.

In the first gospel reading we heard before the entrance procession, the Pharisees were complaining that the disciples and crowd who were welcoming our Lord to Jerusalem were making a ruckus by shouting and singing. They told the Lord: “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” In other words, they were asking our Lord to tell them: “be quiet.” This noisy behaviour, in their own estimation, was not the behaviour of pious disciples of a holy rabbi but sounded more like a gang of loud drunken sailors. Our Lord, instead of bending to pressure, doubles down and defends His disciples by commending them: “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.”

In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah declares that the Lord Himself had given him “a disciple’s tongue.” It is not a glib tongue that will earn him fans or popular support. In fact, what he says at the behest of God would prove so unpopular that he would be the subject of rejection, ridicule and persecution. The image of the Suffering Servant who remains faithful to his mission in the face of adversity becomes an apt figure for the future Messiah. Our Lord’s own passion would be the fulfilment of the words of Isaiah: “I offered my back to those who struck me, my cheeks to those who tore at my beard; I did not cover my face against insult and spittle.” Despite such taunting, torture and opposition, the servant remains steadfast in mission to “speak out” on behalf of the Lord because he knows that with the Lord’s help, no insult would hurt him.

The theme of speaking out is contrasted with its counterpart of remaining silent. St Paul in the second reading paints this beautiful picture of the One who is God humbling Himself to such an extent of assuming the lowly state of a slave. His humility would go so far as to accept the penalty of death even though He is the Deathless God. The Word of God whom chaos could not silence at the beginning of creation chooses to mute Himself out of love and obedience to the Father’s will. What should our response be in knowing this truth, the truth that God’s greatest act in history would be in becoming small? Our silence is not an option. St Paul tells us that “every tongue should acclaim Jesus Christ as Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” His decision to become human has not compromised His divinity. On the contrary, His humiliation in death is the very reason we acknowledge His glory as Lord and God.

In the lengthy passion gospel reading that we just heard, we notice our Lord’s response to those around Him. From the scene of the Last Supper to His lifeless body being taken down from the cross, we see a man who is very much in charge though others assume that they have taken charge of Him. Sometimes He speaks and sometimes He chooses to remain silent. As the narrative progresses, notice that our Lord eventually chooses to remain silent especially when He is accused, ridiculed and mocked. But our Lord does not cease speaking directly to His Heavenly Father. The Father, however, remains silent throughout this soliloquy. The one exception to our Lord’s silence is when He promises salvation to the good thief who was crucified with Him. As His life expired on the cross, His final words summed up His entire life and mission. Once again, addressed solely to the Heavenly Father: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” At the end, instead of ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ as we would hear in Mark’s Passion, Luke’s Jesus Himself tranquilly yields His life into the Father’s hands, obediently completing His Father’s will.

How different our Lord’s response at His trials and crucifixion is from ordinary human nature. Even when we have done something wrong and know we are wrong, still the first words that tend to form in our mouths are words of excuses and self-defence. And what about when we are right but are blamed for being wrong? Most of us would be quick to speak up and protest our innocence. It’s just human nature to want to speak up and justify ourselves. But our Lord met His accusers with silence, as had the prophet Isaiah written seven hundred years ago, “He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opens not his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7). He held back any words that would have relieved Him from the shame and blame of sin. He was not a sinner, but He took fully the sinner’s place. Thank God that Jesus was willing to be counted a sinner before men, that we might be counted as righteous before God! Thank God, He chose to speak up on our behalf, even though His own disciples chose to remain silent in His hour of need.

Our Lord reveals the truth behind this paradox first announced by the philosopher king: “A time to keep silence, And a time to speak” (Eccles 3:7-8). Our Lord provides us with a model to follow and imitate. There is a time to remain silent and a time to speak up. We need to seek wisdom from the Holy Spirit as to when it’s time for each response. When it comes to ourselves, do remember that we do not need to have the last word or pursue any argument to vindicate ourselves. God is our vindicator if indeed we were unfairly maligned. But when you are given the opportunity to testify to who Jesus is and your faith in Him, don’t hesitate to honour Him with your words and your testimony. Even if you’re treated in a similar manner to the treatment He endured, honour Him with your lips, your lifestyle, and the lasting impression you leave upon those you interact with in this world. 

Hosanna! “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Here I am, send me

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

There is a tendency among many to be drawn to certain charismatic preachers and leaders. Can people be faulted for this? Who doesn’t want to be inspired or motivated or moved to tears or action? And whether one wishes to admit it or not, who doesn’t want to be entertained by amusing anecdotes and colourful illustrations? That is why crowds would throng to a rally or a preached mission whenever a popular and dynamic preacher is in town. But the readings which we hear this Sunday provide us with an important and necessary corrective - the gospel is always greater than its greatest proclaimers. An important truth that preachers, like me, should remember and need. “For what we preach is not ourselves,” wrote St Paul to the Corinthians, “but Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor. 4:5).

The prophets of old like Isaiah and the great missionary apostles like St Paul and St Peter, were anything than rockstar-like celebrities of the faith. The quest for celebrity-like fame can actually be a distraction from the work of preaching the gospel. The habit of seeking ever-larger audiences through new technologies always runs the risk of trivialising the message, fueling the culture of celebrity, and losing sight of the everyday work of evangelisation.

In all three examples that are offered by today’s readings - Isaiah in the first reading, St Paul in the second and St Peter in the gospel - there is a keen awareness of their own personal unworthiness. Isaiah protests that he is unworthy to speak God’s words because he is a man of unclean lips. Paul claims that he is the “least among the apostles” and that he “hardly deserve the name apostle.” When Simon Peter discovered the enormity of what he has just witnessed, the Lord performing a miracle before his own eyes, he pleaded, “Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” None of these men stated a claim that they were entitled to the right of proclaiming the Word of God. On the contrary, all three clearly admitted their own disqualification.

Many of us would have similar sentiments and that is the reason why so many Catholics fail to undertake the work of sharing the good news with others. If you have ever felt that you were not good enough for God or the work He wishes to entrust to you, know this - you are in good company - because that’s just how Isaiah, St Paul, and St Peter felt when God called them.

Feeling inadequate before God is certainly understandable. In a way, this isn’t wrong. It’s a sign of humility to recognise our inadequacy before God. After all, God is God! He is perfectly good, perfectly righteous, and perfectly pure. We are none of those things. When we imagine ourselves before a being of such power and purity, we can’t help but feel small and unworthy by comparison. Yet, despite our unworthiness God continues to call us. Don’t take my word for it. Take God’s Word. He still chose Isaiah and Peter and Paul, despite their protestations of being unworthy. If it takes humility to recognise that we are unworthy, it takes greater humility to admit that it’s not about us! It’s all about God - the sovereignty of God and the freedom He exercises in choosing who He pleases even if the world or the person thinks nothing of it. It would be arrogance for us to question God’s choice.

This is why in our human frailty, we cannot just merely depend on our abilities and resources. We have abilities and we do have resources but we also have our limitations. But God supplements these with His abundant grace. This is what St Paul declared in the second reading: “I am the least of the apostles; in fact, since I persecuted the Church of God, I hardly deserve the name apostle; but by God’s grace that is what I am, and the grace that he gave me has not been fruitless.” Like Paul before his conversion, many of us continue to live in the delusion that we are self-made, that we have to chart our own destiny, orchestrate our own achievements, work hard to achieve our goals. But there is also grace that shapes and perfects us and as Paul so rightly noted, that it is by “God’s grace that is what I am.”

This is also what Peter experienced in the gospel. The dawn of his new life marked by the success which could only be brought on by the Lord’s miraculous assistance had to come after a long night of struggling and repeated failure. Peter would continue to experience this pattern in his own life. Whenever he depended solely on his bravado, his personal leadership skills, his speaking out of turn and jumping the gun, he would meet with failure and disappointment. Tradition tells us that this pattern continues even after the Lord had ascended and he had received the mantle of leadership and the gift of the Holy Spirit. But despite his shortcomings and failings, and in spite of it, our Lord would continue to return to him, renewing his election and commission. Peter too can declare with Paul that the Lord’s “grace that is what I am.”

Now many of us would argue that unlike Isaiah, we were not given a vision of heaven, or like Peter and Paul, called by the Lord personally to be His apostles. How does the Lord qualify us who are unqualified? The answer is simple and yet profound. The Lord continues to call and He continues to act and He continues to pour out His graces through the Church, especially through the sacraments. All of the sacraments are tangible means by which God imparts His intangible grace to us. Baptism is that first sacrament that binds us to Christ, Penance is the sacrament that restores us to union with Him when we have strayed, the Eucharist is what He chooses to sustain us with His own body and blood. That is why when people avoid the sacraments, they do not know what they are missing out. Just like the air we breathe is necessary for our survival, the grace we receive through the sacraments is necessary for our salvation. Without grace, we will perish.

But for all our dependence on grace, does it mean that we just sit back and do nothing? We are not Calvinist Protestants who hold on to the erroneous sola that only grace alone saves. St Paul was the greatest evangeliser the world has ever known, and he certainly worked hard at it. But he was only able to succeed by relying on God’s grace. This is the key: we can’t do God’s work on our own. Nor can we just sit back and be lazy Christians, relying on God to do all the work. The truth lies in the middle: we need to put forth effort, because God wants to work through us and in us, our will cooperating with His. God knows exactly what you are capable of. He knows exactly how strong you are, and how weak you are. He knows your knowledge and your ignorance. He knows your capacities and your limitations. And He says, my grace is sufficient for you (2 Cor 2:19). We just need to trust that the God who calls us will provide whatever grace is needed to answer that call. All we need to do is say, like Isaiah, “Here I am” (Is 6:8).

There is a moment that comes at every Mass, just before we receive Communion. The priest holds the consecrated host up before us and proclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the Supper of the Lamb.” At that moment, like Isaiah and St. Peter, we find ourselves in the presence of divinity. We stand before perfect goodness. And if we feel unworthy before that presence… let us pray with earnestness and complete sincerity, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” We acknowledge our sins and trust God to forgive us. We acknowledge our weakness and trust God to strengthen us. We have faith that God will accomplish His will through us and in humility we say, “Here I am; send me.”

Preach the Complete Truth

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

This passage has often been cited as a model for preachers to keep their sermons short and sweet. If you had paid attention to the last line of the passage, many have claimed that this is indeed the shortest sermon ever delivered: “This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen.” But such a claim is grossly inaccurate and in fact, quite mischievous. It is clear that when we read the rest of the text in this pericope, our Lord has much more to say. And it would be stretching it to see how our Lord won the approval of the audience and caused them to be “astonished by the gracious words that came from His lips,” with just this one liner. The “gracious words” here, would obviously point to other things which our Lord said, as evidenced by our Lord’s use of two Old Testament illustrations if you read the rest of the following verses, which are not included in our lectionary selection.

Pope Francis has often reiterated his preference for brevity in preaching, which in his opinion, should not exceed 10 minutes. By the number of likes and retweets we see in social media whenever the pontiff’s advice on succinct preaching is reported, we get the impression that many Catholics are certainly in support of this guidance and show us how little our well-thought-out homilies are appreciated by the masses.

But should our homilies be solely measured by their length? It is good to note that our Lord was not known for the brevity of His Sermons. We have both the Sermon on the Mount (St Matthew’s Gospel), which stretches across three chapters, and the parallel albeit shorter Sermon on the Plain (St Luke’s version), as proof that our Lord did deliver lengthy sermons when necessary. His lengthy discourses in the Fourth Gospel are further evidence of this point.

In short, it is always much more effective if you can say things in a far more efficient way with less verbosity, but brevity can never be the sole or the most important criterion. In fact, I dare say that our generation suffers more from a lack of hearing the Word than it does from over-hearing it. Our problem is not “too much” of the Word of God” but rather “too little.” Our generation can sit through a two-hour or sometimes three-hour movie, a student can endure an hour-long lecture involving complex ideas, a young person can be totally engrossed in his gaming for hours on end without requiring any break, and yet, find a ten to fifteen minutes homily something beyond endurance.

A good homily is never to be measured by its brevity or entertainment quality but by how it corresponds with God’s agenda as in the case of our Lord’s preaching in today’s passage. Our Lord was not just spewing nice platitudes and entertaining anecdotes. He was setting out not His own agenda but God’s programme for His ministry which He faithfully desired to adhere to. So how long should a sermon or homily take? As long as it is necessary to convey what God wishes to say to His people, and no clock is going to put a cap on that.

Returning to our gospel passage and our Lord’s supposed short 10 seconds sermon, it is good to remember who Jesus is, which no one else can claim to be. It would seem from the brevity of our Lord’s sermon that the words of the prophet Isaiah which our Lord had just read were sufficient and our Lord only needed to declare that if His congregation wished to understand its meaning, they only had to look at Him. Our Lord, the Word Enfleshed, is the living fulfilment of that message. So, our Lord has the sole privilege of delivering the shortest 10 seconds homily, only because He is the Word. The rest of us poor preachers need more time to get the message across, precisely because we are not the Word, merely its servants.

The homily provides an unmatched opportunity for us priests to remind or inform our congregation what exactly we believe, and why. It is said that St Dominic often reminded his confreres in the Order of Preachers that they only had two tasks – to speak with God or to speak about God. Notice what’s missing from this formula? The homily is not meant for the priest to speak about himself. It is not meant to entertain, to provide practical self-help or adapt to your comfort level. It is a chance for us to provide a clear, unafraid, proclamation of the fullness of the Truths taught by the Scriptures and the Church which guards the deposit of faith. We may or may not need 30 minutes to achieve that, but we do need to make sure that what is said is distinctively and challengingly Catholic.

Just before Christmas last year, Elon Musk tweeted a photo of two piles of documents which were meant to be passed by the US Congress to ensure that their government did not shut down. One was a voluminous bill with thousands of pages and the second was just a thin tiny fraction of the former with just over one hundred pages. The message of the juxtaposition was clear and simple. Smaller, thinner, less is better. A Catholic apologist affixed his own commentary to the picture. The thicker pile represented the deposit of faith of the Catholic Church while the vastly thinner pile represented the Protestant watered down version. When it comes to matters of faith, the Word of God, more is always far superior than lesser.

On this Sunday of the Word of God, let us make it our resolution to be read more, immerse ourselves deeper, and listen more attentively to the Word of God. Lesser isn’t better. In fact, we may spiritually die from being impoverished in reading and hearing the Word of God being proclaimed and preached. Instead of demanding for shortcuts and soundbites, let us be hungry for the full and complete Truth. God intended to give us solid food, let’s not settle for baby’s mushy gruel. He wants to reveal to us the complete Truth, let’s not be satisfied with partial truths. There will always be depths of God’s revelation that needs to be plunged, mysteries that need to be explored, theological understanding that could be better expounded. Likewise, in sharing the Catholic faith with others, we should always resist the temptation of dumbing-down the message of Christ. People are hungering for the complete Truth, don’t give them sound bites. It’s either the complete thing that we must demand for or it’s a fake.

Broken but not Beaten

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

As much as we hope to see the Church grow in size and influence, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the future Pope Benedict XVI, made this prophecy back in 1969 which has been proven to be true, at least in the West as we have witnessed, a free fall drop in members and vocations:
“From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so it will lose many of her social privileges (…) And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals.”

This prophecy seems to be in the vein of the doomsday prophecies so commonly uttered and recorded in the Old Testament - all fire and brimstone and destruction. On the surface, the words of Pope Benedict do little to inspire but rather can be a cause for despair. Perhaps, this is reflective of the life of the blind Bartimaeus before his chanced meeting with the Lord. Like Bartimaeus, when thinking about the terminal diagnosis given about the Church, it is easy to wallow in self-pity, to complain about our dire situation and view everything around us through the lenses of darkness. And yet the good news is that light shines brightest in the dark.

In the first reading, the Prophet Jeremiah is commanded by God to make the following announcement to the remnant population of a decimated nation: “Shout with joy for Jacob! Hail the chief of nations! Proclaim! Praise! Shout: ‘The Lord has saved his people, the remnant of Israel!’” In the midst of disaster and national tragedy, the prophet declares that God is the father to Israel, and in fact, Israel is His cherished first-born son - the sole heir to His inheritance according to the law of primogeniture. Who are these remnants? The idea of a “remnant” sounds either like the survivors of some Holocaust or a band of puritanical hold-outs who have kept themselves unsullied from the depravity of their present age. But this is not the biblical understanding of the word, even among the Jews.

According to an ancient Jewish tradition, the universe is sustained by the presence of at least thirty-six tzadikim, or “righteous ones”, in every generation. The story of Abraham’s intercession on behalf of the evil cities of Sodom and Gomorrah may have inspired this tradition. Just like any good apocalyptic prophecy which continues to maintain the suspense, no one knows the identity of those tzadikim. They are humble souls who quietly pray and perform good deeds for the benefit of the world. Just like the description given in Hebrews of the role of the High Priest, as someone who “has been taken out of mankind and is appointed to act for men in their relations with God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.” And so, it is believed that God does not judge the world on account of these saintly “remnant” souls.

If the understanding of what a remnant means is connected to the presence of this mysterious group of righteous saints, a pattern seems to emerge here which should allow us to understand the nature and mission of the remnant. The remnant is neither the victim of God’s wrath nor do they delight in it. Quite the contrary: the remnant exists to appease it. They never take advantage of their status as righteous ones in the eyes of the Lord to call fire and brimstone to rain on the sinners’ heads, but they pity the sinners and sacrifice themselves for them, even the unrepentant ones. They are not harbingers of God’s justice, rather they are the emissaries of His mercy. Through them, God’s mercy becomes manifest to all mankind.

Therefore, the mission of a remnant Church is not resignation, nor is she to wallow in self-pity nor should she grow resentful in complaining about her plight. When we do this, we are like the crowd of by-standers and disciples who try to silence the cries of those who cry out like Bartimaeus. Rather than facilitating an encounter with the Lord, we act as His greatest detractors and become obstacles to others to make progress on the path to holiness. No, this is not the mission of the “remnant Church.” Rather than withdrawing into a cocoon of self-pity and safety, we are called to be intercessors and mediators. We should go out and redouble our efforts to share the gospel message and invite others to join the faithful remnant. We are called to uphold the true teachings of the gospel and be a beacon of light in a world seen as darkened by sin and apostasy. To those cowering in fear and shrouded in darkness like Bartimaeus, let us encourage them with this exhortation: “Courage, get up, He is calling you.”

So, let us not perceive the Church’s smallness with fear or reticence, but with faith and courage. Our voice may seem small but it is amplified with the roaring power of the Holy Spirit and Christ’s sanctifying grace working in and through the Church. Salvation will come not from success and efficiency measured by the standards of the world, but from Jesus Christ alone, who has promised never to abandon His Church. We must be joyful and content, for it is only when we’re weak that we’re strong (2 Cor 12:9-10). It is only by being the grain of mustard that we, as a Church, will be able to grow into the greatest tree in the field, where the birds from heaven will be able to roost, rest and sing (Mk 4:30-32).

In an interview, our Holy Father Pope Francis summarised the prophetic vision of Pope Benedict XVI in these words: “Pope Benedict was a prophet of this Church of the future, a Church that will become smaller, lose many privileges, be more humble and authentic and find energy for what is essential. It will be a Church that is more spiritual, poorer and less political: a Church of the little ones.” Rather than bemoan the passing of her bygone glory or seek to insulate herself in bubble-wrapping, we should rejoice at the grace of being tenderly pruned at the hands of a Loving Father, for what would emerge from this “smaller”, “humbler”, “more spiritual,” “less political” church is something that will continually surprise and excite us.

In the visionary words of Pope Benedict: “But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her centre: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world. In faith and prayer she will again recognise the sacraments as the worship of God and not as a subject for liturgical scholarship.” This is our conviction of faith and hope – that when we come to our Lord with the enduring faith of Bartimaeus, we are convinced that we will see again, we will be refreshed again, our vigour and excitement will be reignited again to follow Christ once more.

Not Born but Intentional Catholics

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

One of the common self-descriptions you would hear from a Catholic, and only from Catholics, is this: “I’m born Catholic.” That is not entirely accurate, which is to say it is a false statement. No one is “born Catholic.” Through baptism, we all “become” Catholic. We are not exactly “natural” sons of God, but “adopted” sons, as St Paul teaches. The only “born” Catholic was Christ. It may be more accurate, therefore, to describe the person as a “cradle Catholic” rather than “born Catholic.” But often the term has come to describe a prevalent condition which many Catholics possess or suffer - we are Catholics not by our own choice, not intentionally, but often only nominally, that is in name.

Borrowing an idea from the Protestants, Catholic author, Sherry Weddell, wrote a book entitled “Forming Intentional Disciples” to propose a solution to this malady by fostering a culture among Catholics to consciously and intentionally see themselves as disciples of Jesus Christ and to follow and imitate Him by being His messengers to the world. Before I share some salient points from her book, I believe our readings for today provide us with an excellent template for becoming intentional Catholics. The dynamics of the three readings could be simply stated as this: we are called, we are chosen and we are sent.

The first reading speaks of the call of the prophet Amos. Here was a prophet that was sent by God to a foreign nation that needed him but did not want him. The reading begins with Amaziah, the priest of Bethel in the north, practically shooing off Amos and telling him to go back to where he came from, which is the South, Amos’ homeland, and to do his prophesying there. The irony of this encounter is that Amos too expresses his true feelings about his ministry, something which he had not bargained for nor had he personally preferred: ‘I was no prophet, neither did I belong to any of the brotherhoods of prophets,’ Amos replied to Amaziah ‘I was a shepherd, and looked after sycamores: but it was the Lord who took me from herding the flock, and the Lord who said, “Go, prophesy to my people Israel.”’

Just like Amos, most of us have no sense of being called. We would have preferred being left alone to our devices, going about our own business and doing what we have to do to earn our living and get along in life. But being called means that each of us is given a mission beyond what we would have personally desired or chosen. By our baptism, each of us is called to be priest, king and prophet. We are called to be priests because we are called to intercede for others. We are called to be kings because we are called to serve others. We are called to be prophets because the Word of God must be proclaimed by us.

This begs the question: “why me?” If you’ve paid attention to the readings for the past few Sundays, that it’s never about you. God chooses us not because we are qualified, or naturally gifted or because we are worthy. Quite often He chooses those who are not. This is what St Paul tells us in the second reading: “Before the world was made, He chose us, chose us in Christ, to be holy and spotless, and to live through love in His presence, determining that we should become His adopted sons, through Jesus Christ for His own kind purposes, to make us praise the glory of His grace …” That’s it! We are called, we have been chosen. Why? For God’s glory, for the praise of His glory. Not for our glory or because we have merited His attention, so, don’t get swollen headed!

And finally, we have the Gospel where we hear how the Lord sends out the Twelve apostles on a mission. They are called. They are chosen. They are sent out. They are given a mission. They are asked to take nothing along with them because that too is part of their witness. If they are going to lead people to have faith in God, it must start with them. But the call, the choosing and the sending is not just confined to the Twelve. How much easier for us if God only chose the Twelve Apostles and not us! How much easier for us if only the pope, the bishops, the priests and the religious must have responsibilities for preaching and spreading the Word of God and the joy of His Church!

So, knowing that we have been called, chosen and sent, is only the first step. How do we now make the response? I’m going to return to Sherry Weddell’s book and borrow some of her thoughts on this matter. She proposes 5 simple steps.

Step 1 is initial trust. Just like Amos, we must trust the Lord’s call and His mission even if it means getting out of our comfort zones. The greatest obstacle to being an intentional disciple of the Lord is to be contented with what is convenient and secure. Like the apostles in the gospel, we must gradually learn to let go of our crutches - material and emotional- and begin to learn to trust God more each day. If God has called us to this mission, He will provide us with the wisdom, the tools and resources to carry out His will.

The next step is spiritual curiosity. As Weddell says, “When we live lives that are inexplicable apart from the grace and power of the Gospel, we will often find that curiosity is sparked among people who were formerly hostile to the Faith. To be a witness does not consist in engaging propaganda, nor even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist.”

The third step after trust has been given, curiosity aroused, it is time to challenge our listeners. Often, we tip toe around difficult subjects and try to soften the demands of Christ. But without this challenge, Christians will remain infants, perpetually “born Catholics” or “infantile Catholics”, who are unable to make a breakthrough in their spiritual growth.

All the previous steps will lead to the fourth step - spiritual seeking. Here, the seeker is abandoning the false notion that God stands in the way of freedom and happiness, and realising that God is the good he or she has sought all his life in his pursuit of the shadows and copies of beauty that are mere earthly beauties.

So, how does one live the Catholic faith in the real world? It is certainly not enough to be “born Catholic” or even to be a “cradle Catholic.” These labels mean nothing unless we are intentional about it. Our lives cannot just be dictated by doing the bare minimum, even though many cradle Catholics these days don’t even do the bare minimum like observing the precepts of the Church – attending Mass every Sunday and holy days of obligation, making confession at least once a year etc. We must be consciously aware that we are called, we are chosen and we are sent. Today we are invited, each one of us, to recognise our own calling and to seek to know what God asks of us in order to spread the Good News of the Kingdom. Let us open our hearts and our minds in faith. No more excuses. No more delays. Time to get out of our cradles and be rock solid intentional disciples of the Lord!