Find peace through His strength

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Harvest comes later

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Light a Candle

Fourth Sunday of Lent Year A

The popular adage “it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness” may seem to be a cliched expression, a naive suggestion to put on rose-coloured glasses and pretend that all the messiness in this world do not exist. But like all other cliches, there is always a certain modicum of truth in this. All Malaysians should understand this - that we have a cultural tendency to complain and gripe about all and sundry. From politics to economics, from school to work, from food to accommodations, from church to family. Even though there may be a basis in reality to all our grievances, we seem to be blind to anything which is good. And though we may at times admit the good, we choose to minimise its value, “good just isn’t good enough”, and then proceed to exaggerate the negative side of things.

In our lengthy gospel for today, we encounter various characters who have a blinkered vision of life. From our Lord’s disciples who see the blindness of the man born blind as punishment from God, to the neighbours of the man who cannot accept the reality that things have changed for the better, to the Pharisees who only see the healing as a violation of the Sabbath prohibition, to his own parents who are more worried about public opinion than to rejoice that their son’s vision has now been restored. None of them are able to see anything positive about this astounding miracle of our Lord. Only the blind man could have a valid excuse. It is obvious that he couldn’t see because he’s physically blind and yet at the end of the story, he is able to initially recognise Christ as a prophet and then as the mysterious messianic figure of “the Son of Man”. In fact, it is this blind man who makes this profound confession of faith long before Thomas does at the end of the gospel: “Lord, I believe”, and then proceeds to “worship” the Lord.

Perhaps, what is needed is the ability to see as God does. As God had to remind Samuel when he seemed to have overlooked David, the youngest son of Jesse, because he was considered to be the most unlikely candidate due to his youthful age and physical weakness, “God does not see as man sees: man looks at appearances but the Lord looks at the heart.” This statement has less to do with the irrelevance of appearances than it has to do with the reminder that our judgments on any matter should go much deeper than superficial appearances. Samuel saw the runt of the lot, but God saw in David a hero who will slay giants. Samuel saw his physical weakness, God saw his spiritual potential for greatness.

That too is a choice set before us. Just as the way of seeing is a choice we must make, joy too is a conscious, chosen response to God's grace and hope, despite the surrounding, often difficult, circumstances. We can rejoice in the face of our struggle with sins and sufferings because these painful realities are not the final word. We can rejoice because though we were born with original sin, just like the man in the gospel was born blind, there is One who can and has removed the scales from the eyes of all those who believe in Him. We can rejoice though we may be considered weak, others see us as weak, but in Christ we are strong, in Him we can overcome the greatest obstacle before us. We rejoice because we were blinded by sin, but now our Lord has given new sight through faith. So it is not naive to believe in this: “it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.” We rejoice because as St Paul reminds us in the second reading, we were once in darkness, but now we are children of the light.

No Accusation, Blaming or Complaining

Third Sunday of Lent Year A

As humans, we are naturally wired to blame other people or external circumstances when things don't quite go according to plan. Malaysians are particularly adept at this. In fact, the blame culture can be best summarised by using the mnemonic ABC - that is, A for accusing, B for blaming and C for complaining. But where do they spring from? All three find their genesis in a feeling that we suffer from - a deficit of love. An old priest mentor once told me, “Michael, there are no troublemakers, only people wanting to be loved!” When we do not feel sufficiently loved, affirmed or receive constant approval from others, a gaping hole opens up within us, a hole that sucks in all the light and then regurgitates the darkness by accusing, blaming and complaining about others whom we believe have left us in this state.

Today, the first reading provides us with an example of what happens when our lives are not marked by gratitude, it is immediately replaced with complaining and grumbling. Following their exodus from Egypt, the Israelites frequently grumbled against God and Moses due to lack of water and food, often blaming Moses for bringing them out of Egypt to die. That’s quite rich because they were crying out to God for assistance and liberation while they were languishing in slavery. And now that God had liberated them, they continued to turn their fury and discontent at Moses and indirectly at God. Ultimately, they were questioning God’s Providence and promise that He will lead them safely to the Promised Land.

We read this and are appalled and shocked at their sudden amnesia and lack of gratitude. But how often do we act the same way? As long as things are going well, we are grateful. But the second our situation changes (for the worse), we doubt, we fret, we grow anxious, we complain, we blame God for our predicament and then we accuse Him of not being caring enough for us. Sure, He has helped in the past, we think (if we even remember). But where is He now? “Is the Lord with us, or not?” the Israelites asked, as they quarreled among themselves.

Should we have any doubt that God loves us, St Paul reassures us of God’s undying love for us even though we had not merited it: “what proves that God loves us is that Christ died for us while we were still sinners.” So, in truth, we do not really suffer from a deficit of love. We cannot complain that no one loves us. Even if the whole world turns their back on us, which is a little over dramatic if I must say, God has never abandoned us. There is no doubt – God loves us and He has proven that love by sending us His Son who died on the cross for us!

Yes, deep down inside of us is this yearning to be loved, understood and accepted by someone. We try our best to please the people around us in order to gain their love and acceptance. We try to fill that emptiness that constantly gnaws at our soul. Over the years we will come to realise that no amount of possessions, friends or power will be able to satisfy this thirst and hunger of ours. There is only one thing that can satisfy that thirst – it is God’s love. In the timeless words of St Augustine, “Thou hast made us for thyself, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” Therefore this thirst, this yearning, this desire, this longing is not a mere human reality. It is put there by God as a reminder of His desire to share His own life with us and to symbolise the Christian’s longing to be with God forever.

If in the Old Testament God showed His care for His people by giving them water in the arid desert, our Lord in today’s Gospel promises a far greater source of water – living water that surges up from the depths of our being, water that can be accessed without the use of a bucket, i.e. human ingenuity and machination.

The story tells of two thirsty persons who meet at a well. Jesus, sweaty, weary, thirsty, comes to the well with a parched throat. The Samaritan woman, on the other hand, came to the well with a parched soul. Unlike the woman, Jesus has no bucket and the well is deep. The reason for this was not just an oversight on His part, a passing traveller. The reason for this was that He had not come to quench His thirst, but hers. He is the fountain of living water that has come to quench the thirst of the world; our thirst for God. The Samaritan woman’s thirst for love and for salvation was more profound than His physical thirst for water. That is why she had been married five times and now lives with someone who is not her husband. She sought fulfillment and meaning in the arms of a mate. She drank from the well of relationships – a well that continued to run dry because void of Christ and self-worth, these relationships could not meet her inner longing. She came at noon to draw water because she would have wanted to avoid the gossip of the other women in town. She was both the subject and object of accusations, blame and complaints.

Christ offered her the living water of the Holy Spirit—the only thing that would quench her spiritual and emotional thirst. Only God can satisfy our every hunger and thirst. Only God’s love can reassure us that we are precious and worthy of love. In the eyes of her fellow townspeople, she was a sinner beyond redemption. But not so in God’s eyes. Our Lord promises her, a sinner and an outcast, the water of life – God’s love and forgiveness.

Many of us continue to live like the Samaritan woman, gazing into the dark depths of the well of our hearts, wondering if we could find happiness therein or just emptiness. Many believe that it is just a dry well which serves only as an echo chamber of our ABCs, our accusations, our blames and our complaints - it’s always someone else’s fault, there is always someone else to be blamed, there is always something unsatisfactory which justifies our complaint. Or we could look up from our navel for once and look at the One who looks back at us with love and compassion. If we can recognise His love for us, then our accusations would be transformed into praise, our blaming would be turned into repentance and our complaints would be replaced with gratitude.

Just like the Elect who are gathered here today, you have been thirsting for the life giving water that can blunt the blade of every accusation, deflect the blows of every blame hurled at you and satisfy every complaint that you may ever had in your life. Jesus promises each and every one of you the water of life. If you drink of this water, you will never be thirsty again. If you have experienced the unconditional love of God, you will no longer crave for other lesser substitutes. Cease your search for other wells; they will all run dry. You have found the source of Living Water, where you will thirst no more.

The Light of God surrounds me

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The darkness seems to be a scary place. We can’t see where we are going, and we can’t identify hazards that might be surrounding us. Darkness feels empty. But the truth is that just because we can’t see what’s in a dark place, it doesn’t mean that there is nothing there. Darkness does not necessarily mean absence, and it certainly does not mean the absence of God. Darkness is a part of life, a backdrop for the stars at night, the space between what you know. Darkness has a way of reminding you of the light you’ve been given on all those other days. This unsettling truth emerges – You have to know the darkness before you can truly appreciate the light. It is that same darkness that makes us open to welcome the soothing rays of light.

The readings that we have heard today provide us with this compelling and consoling message of hope. The light of hope can even be found in the darkness of despair. The gospel is tied to the prophecy of Isaiah in the first reading. When Isaiah proclaimed the oracle, he perceived as darkness and gloom the fact that the northern kingdom was tottering under the blows of foreign oppression. For those who regarded this political crisis in the north as the death knell for the southern kingdom, Isaiah held out the hope of a light in the darkness. In the midst of human failure and defeat, Isaiah promised that those who remained faithful would be blessed with the light of victory. The fulfilment of the Isaian prophecy will not take place during the lifetime of the prophet, but it forms an apt description of what the birth of Jesus and His public ministry meant for the world living in darkness. Christ is the light who shines in the darkness of human need and suffering, Jesus’ advent is the saving dawn, the penetrating ray of justice and truth.

In the second reading, we are confronted with the painful truth that darkness is not just a reality kept at bay outside the confines of our Church. The truth of the matter is that the dark has insidiously crept into the Church and resides within its shadows. Personality cults, political affiliations, ideological positions threatened to break the unity of the Church of Corinth. Four competing groups had emerged with each claiming that its own leader was superior to other leaders and therefore that its version of the gospel was superior to that of the other groups. Paul, himself, had been dragged into this factious battle. Directly confronting each of these factional groups, and even his own party stalwarts, Paul reminded the Christians in Corinth of their basic unity in Christ. That unity, challenged Paul, was to supersede every human preference and was superior to every human wisdom, however attractive. With the light of Christ at her centre, the darkness of her members will never overcome the Church.

We continue to witness how the light of Christ can penetrate the darkness of humanity in the gospel today. It begins on a troubling note – a moment of darkness for Jesus - John the Baptist, his cousin and in some respects his mentor, has just been arrested by Herod for his defiant preaching in response to Herod's marriage. After hearing of the arrest of John, St Matthew tells us that Jesus withdrew to Galilee. Outwardly this may seem to be motivated by a feeling of personal defeat and fear. Such a reading may indicate the uncontested victory of darkness over the light, indeed over the very source of Light. But, Jesus’ withdrawal is not a flight from danger or a retreat into security. He withdraws to Galilee to prepare for a major comeback. It was like the dark sky right before the bright Morning Star appears. To defeat the darkness, He understands that He must enter into the very maelstrom of that darkness; He must be totally identified with the people characterised by Isaiah as the ones ‘who walked in darkness’ and ‘live in a deep shadow.’

Just as our Lord had called these first disciples to emerge from the darkness of their past and come into the light , it is crucial for each of us to recognise this personal call that Christ makes to us, to leave any and all darkness behind and follow Him into the light, to live and walk always illumined by Him. The Lord summons us to follow Him into the light so that we, in turn, can become His light. Discipleship is thus heeding the call to walk and live with Christ to follow Him on that pilgrimage out of the gloom and darkness of our existence.

If there is anyone here today who still walks in that darkness, do not grow too accustomed to it. When you spend too much time in the darkness, you will eventually find it more comfortable than the light. Come to His light — walk no longer in darkness! No matter how difficult things may seem, no matter how bleak, no matter how dark life may become, His light shines in the midst of darkness and the darkness can never overcome it.

And so here we are in the ordinariness of our daily existence, each moment poised between light and darkness – confronted with so many choices. We can choose to be positive or to be consumed by the negative, to live with hopeful optimism or cynical pessimism, to be trapped in fear or to be liberated by faith, to be children of the Light or of Darkness, to follow Christ or the world. It is a simple choice. It is a choice to be made by everyone, a choice that can change us and change our lives and change the world all around us. We can choose to be victims and be silent participants of a world that seems darkened by sin and death, drugs and violence, loneliness and despair, injustice and poverty, hostility and bigotry, hopelessness and cynicism, or we could choose to shine the light of Christ therein and allow that light to transform everything it touches. In the light of Christ, our vision is renewed, our strength rejuvenated, and our story changes - we come to realise that our story can be a story not of despair but one of hope, a journey from heartbreak to happiness, a journey from the dark into the light.

Remember “Buzz Lightyear” of the Toy Story fame? Well, he is named after the famous astronaut, Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, one of only two astronauts who stepped foot on the moon in 1969. Buzz carried this prayer with him, a prayer likely inspired by the famous prayer of St Patrick (the Lorica or Breastplate prayer). In the darkness and isolation of space, with only darkness as an “old friend,” this prayer must have been a blazing beacon of light pushing back all the darkness of the universe. May this be our prayer too:

The Light of God surrounds me;
The Love of God enfolds me;
The Power of God protects me;
The Presence of God watches over me;
Wherever I am, God is,
And all is well.
Amen. (‘Prayer of Protection,’ by James Dillet Freeman)

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.

Long live Christ the King

Solemnity of Christ the King of the Universe Year C

Twice this year, a loosed coalition of anti-Trump groups funded by globalist billionaires and endorsed by the opposition Democratic Party organised nationwide rallies in many cities across the United States under the common banner of “No Kings.” They were claiming that the man in the White House, which many refused to acknowledge as their president, who won the 2024 presidential election which many of them denied, is a pretentious tyrannical dictator, in other words, an unelected king! But there is irony in their chants and claims.

It’s wild how the same people chanting “No Kings” are the first to bow to every new trend, influencer, or ideology that tells them what to think, what to post, and what to believe. The truth is everyone serves something. The only question is who sits on the throne of your heart.

You can reject authority all you want, but it doesn’t change reality. There is a King. He doesn’t need your vote, your approval, or your permission. His name is Jesus. And unlike the kings of this world, here is a king whose throne is the cross, whose crown is made of thorns, whose soldiers do not fight for Him but mock Him, whose courtiers abandon Him, deny Him and even betray Him. The scene which we just heard in the gospel portrays this stark contrast between this King, whom we today acclaim as the King of Kings and the Lord of the Universe, and all the monarchs that have ever ruled in human history.

The “No Kings” crowd says they’re free, but their chains are just invisible. They worship self, culture, and chaos. Meanwhile, the King they reject is the only one who actually died to set them free. You can shout “No Kings” all day long, but one day, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

Many have stood up for their faith in this King and have died martyrs. They would rather die as faithful subjects of this Divine King than to bend their knee to some earthly ruler who demands absolute obedience to the point of suppressing faith in any religion or God.

One of these men is a saintly and faithful bishop. This year marks the 25th anniversary of Cardinal Kung's death. Cardinal Ignatius Pin-Mei Kung was the Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Shanghai and the unofficial leader of the Underground Catholic Church in China for decades. He was consecrated bishop just after the Chinese Communist Party had taken over China. Certainly, not the best of time for the faith. In defiance of the CCP, Bishop Kung personally supervised members of the Legion of Mary to train catechists to pass on the faith when all the priests were gone.

In 1952, Bishop Kung declared that year to be a Marian Year in Shanghai, during which there was to be uninterrupted round-the-clock recitation of the rosary in front of a statue of Our Lady of Fatima which toured all the parishes of Shanghai. The holy statue finally arrived at Christ the King Church where a major arrest of the priests had just taken place only a month before. Bishop Kung led the Rosary there while hundreds of armed police looked on. At the end of the Rosary Bishop Kung prayed: "Holy Mother, we do not ask you for a miracle. We do not beg you to stop the persecutions. But we beg you to support us who are very weak."

Between 1951 and 1955 all foreign priests and religious sisters were deported from China, sometimes after time in prison. Chinese bishops, priests, sisters and legionaries were typically arrested, subject to public humiliation, brainwashing sessions, torture, and sent to labour camps for long periods (often more than 20 years) or simply executed. Not all Catholics remained faithful.

Bishop Kung was arrested along with more than 200 priests and other Catholics on 8 September, 1955, the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was subjected to a mob "struggle session" (an orchestrated denunciation by a baying crowd which sometimes becomes violent) in the old Dog Racing Stadium in Shanghai. Thousands were ordered to attend and to hear the Bishop's public confession of his “crimes". With his hands tied behind his back, wearing a Chinese pajama suit and a conical dunce cap (the parody of a mitre), the 5-foot tall Bishop was pushed forward to the microphone to confess. To the shock of the security police, they heard a righteous loud cry of "Long live Christ the King, long live the Pope" from the Bishop. The crowd responded immediately, "Long live Christ the King, long live Bishop Kung". For his defiant faith, Bishop Kung spent a total of thirty years in prison with long periods in isolation holding firmly to that very belief that Christ is King.

Though we continue to face opposition, persecution and hostility, wishing to silence our voices and destroy our faith, with Bishop Kung we persist in praying to Christ the King and His Blessed Mother: “we do not ask you for a miracle. We do not beg you to stop the persecutions. But we beg you to support us who are very weak."

So, let the crowds chant “No kings.” Let their slogans rise like smoke from a fire they cannot control. Let their fists shake at a heaven they pretend not to believe in. Kings and politicians may shake and tremble at their baying. But there is a throne that does not tremble. A crown that never dulls. A King who does not campaign for allegiance, nor bend to the will of the blood-thirsty mob. His robe carries the marks of His own blood. His hands bear wounds earned for traitors. His eyes see through the shouting into the ache beneath it. He is Jesus Christ. Crucified. Risen! Reigning! Victorious!

We do not serve an idea. We serve a King. A living King. A ruling King. A returning King. Every crown will fall. Every kingdom will fade. Every chant will break against the unshakable throne of Jesus Christ. And in the end, there will not be silence. There will be song. While the chants of the haters fill the streets, another sound rises from the rooms of our homes and the pews of our churches. Knees touch the floor. Heads bow low. Words rise like incense into the night, uttering with conviction: “My King. My Lord and my God!"

The impartial God has favourites

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Most people look forward to Christmas or their birthdays, as they would expect a pleasant surprise in the form of a present. I knew what to expect each year - another book, the next volume of “Tell me why?” or some other informative work of non-fiction. It wouldn’t have been so painful except I enviously saw my brother getting the latest toys and games. I’ve since concluded that life isn’t fair and sometimes it does feel that parents have their favourites.

As far as underlings are concerned, whether it be an employee, a subordinate, a subject, a student or a child, the greatest sin of a superior is favouritism and partiality. Partiality means to show preference for one over another. For most people, partiality is equated with injustice. But here’s the irony, and I would dare say, the hypocrisy of the matter. Though we would expect impartiality of our superiors, we would also expect that they side with us, which means that they should be partial to us.

If there is anyone who suffers this tension more than any living person, it is God. God, of all persons, is expected to be perfectly impartial and yet He is often accused of not taking our side. In other words, we expect both impartiality and partiality of God. We hope and pray that He favours us while not siding with our enemies and rivals. So, is God impartial or partial? Does He have favourites or does He not have favourites? Our simple minds would not be able to reconcile this contradiction and yet we can practically live with both.

God may appear to be partial while He is really levelling the playing field. When He sides with the poor, the oppressed and even with sinners, He is actually correcting the injustice which they are suffering at the hands of others or due to sin. The values of the Kingdom of God may appear to be upside down when compared to our earthly experience, but it is actually the right side up of how things should be. God loves this beautiful but broken creation of His, and He is going to heal it and remake it according to His original plan. This is what we are witnessing in today’s readings.

In the first reading, after hearing this declaration that God is impartial, that He “is a judge who is no respecter of personages”, it becomes clear that God is partial to the voiceless poor man who has no wealth to buy influence or justice. In fact, we are told that God “listens to the plea of the injured party …., does not ignore the orphan’s supplication, nor the widow’s as she pours out her story.” He has a special ear for the “man who with his whole heart” and “the humble man’s prayer.” The Psalmist goes further by declaring that “the Lord is close to the broken-hearted; those whose spirit is crushed he will save.” The reason for this is not because God is partial and has favourites. It is because He wishes to correct the injustice that has sought to silence the voice of the weak, the oppressed and the poor and denied them justice.

In the gospel, our Lord tells the familiar parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector and contrasts the type of prayer and outcome of both, with God seeming to favour the latter instead of the former. In our simple sense of justice, shouldn’t sinners be punished and the righteous be rewarded? The interesting point to note here is that God’s partiality seems to depart from the Old Testament model of God bending to the cries of the poor, the weak or even the righteous and instead chooses to lean in the direction of a sinner. There is no indication that this tax collector was poor. In fact, he would have accumulated great wealth, some at the expense of others through exploitation and unjust means, and yet God justifies him at the end of the story. How do we make sense of this?

This is where we need to relook at what it means to be poor. Poverty is not confined to material poverty. In fact, our Lord in the Beatitudes (Matthew’s version), speaks of spiritual poverty which goes beyond a lack of money or possessions. Few of us nowadays would be so crass as to show outwardly any disdain for a poor man because he is poor, but we all have our poor: poor in knowledge, poor in skill, poor in good looks, poor in taste, poor in social skills, poor in reputation, spiritually and morally poor. The Lutheran martyr and theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer argues that the greatest evil is stupidity, a poverty of intellectual depth. Suffering such people is more vexing than having to suffer the materially poor.

So, although this tax collector may be considered richer than the Pharisee, he possesses a spiritual poverty that turns the heart of God towards him. Spiritual poverty is a deep awareness that one is spiritually destitute and powerless without God's grace, wisdom, and strength. The tax collector knows that he is a sinner and acknowledges it, more than we can say about the Pharisee. It is humility that finds favour with God. “God opposes the proud but shows favour to the humble” (1 Peter 5:5). The beauty that radiates when true humility is demonstrated carries a supernatural power that can turn tides, turn hearts, and attract favour with God and man that simply cannot be achieved by natural means. The Blessed Virgin Mary found favour with God as announced by the Angel because she had humbly submitted to His will.

The Pharisee, by contrast, arrogantly boasts of his merits and achievements before God. His perception of his spiritual wealth is delusional. He too is a sinner, “for all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23), but he refuses to admit it. He so believes in his own righteousness and self-sufficiency that he sees no need for God.

It is widely acceptable to claim that God sides with the poor, that He has a preferential option for the poor, but it is hard to wrap our head around the claim that He favours the sinner, for wouldn’t that mean that He favours sin too? Remember that when God appears to show partiality, it is so that He wishes to correct the injustice and wrongdoing caused by impartiality and sin. And this is the same with how He treats sinners. He draws near to them in order that they may turn away from their sins in genuine repentance in order to turn towards Him in humble submission. He is the divine physician who has come to heal the spiritually sick and who are in need of forgiveness. God stands by the sinner not to defend his offences, some of which is morally indefensible, but to defend him against the destruction caused by these evil deeds. The Lord stands by us not to confirm and support us in our sinfulness but to save us from it!

Back to the story of my annual birthday and Christmas presents. One day, I had an opportunity to exchange notes with my brother on growing up experiences and pangs and I shared how I often felt cheated at the presents I got while he seemed to get the better deal. He then told me that our parents most likely saw the potential in me because I was the “clever one”, thus hoping that I would get a head start with the books which will develop into a love for knowledge. It dawned on me that this is how God works too. He doesn’t give us what we want or what we deserve. He gives us what we “need,” and that’s always the best gift. God is impartial but He also loves each of us dearly and uniquely, so, don’t compare your lot with others but rather be grateful for what you’ve received. I can assure you that this is always the best!

Faith, Gratitude and Salvation

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

From a young age I recalled being taught and being constantly reminded by my parents and teachers that I should preface every request with a “please” and conclude every request answered with a “thank you.” That’s basic etiquette for you. And so many of our generation are alarmed when we witness younger children these days forgetting these most basic rules. They take without saying “please” and leave without saying “thank you.” This would have earned us the sternest side eye from our parents and a good spanking or caning when we are in the privacy of our homes. While you may think that saying please and thank you is a trivial matter, a mere nicety, failing to do so is more significant than you think. It costs nothing to say please and thank you. But forgetting those magic words can cost you everything.

This is what we learn from today’s gospel passage. Ten men were healed. They had requested this of the Lord. They had even offered the requisite “please” out of politeness. But immediately after having received what they had asked for, it soon became apparent that the word was a mere perfunctory gesture. Their lack of gratitude, save for one, revealed their true attitude - one of entitlement rather than of humble acknowledgment of their condition. For this reason, nine went off without giving a second thought to express gratitude to the Lord.

This would be a sad ending if indeed the story ended here. But just as it is fashionable to have post-credit scenes in many recent movies, one would need to patiently wait for the next part of the story - the real ending. And it is here that we read with delight how one of those lepers returned, he “turned back praising God at the top of his voice and threw himself at the feet of Jesus and thanked him.” And this made all the difference. Our Lord would declare to this individual as He commissioned him at the end of the story: “Your faith has saved you.”

Although, gratitude seems to be the major theme of this story, it is really faith which underpins the whole narrative. All ten lepers had sufficient faith in our Lord’s authority and power and therefore received healing from His hands. But only one’s faith saved him - the Samaritan leper. What distinguished him from the others? He was the only one who returned praising God, worshipped Christ and gave thanks for the healing he had received. Only his faith could recognise the source of his healing which led to worship and thanksgiving.

While I was in the United States, I once asked a colleague if everyone, including agnostics and atheists, celebrated one of their greatest civic holidays, Thanksgiving, often done so with much religious fervour, and he answered in the affirmative. My next question: “if they don’t believe in God, who are they thanking?” Seems like a valid question. How can we offer thanksgiving if we do not believe in something or someone to be thankful for? We can be thankful for our family. We can be thankful for gainful employment. We can be thankful for good health. But all of these are just mere sentiments when there is no object to offer our gratitude. That is why true gratitude must always be intertwined with faith for it is faith that provides us with the reason not only to believe but to be grateful. True faith ultimately leads to thanksgiving and gratitude must ultimately be directed to God, the source of all goodness and blessings.

No work of God's is more worthy of gratitude than salvation. Only the foreigner, the Samaritan leper, is grateful for the grace received and that is his salvation. The others think solely of the benefits received, physical healing and social acceptance; but neglected to pursue the path of well-ness right to its very end – salvation. Selective forgetfulness is to be blamed for this. Christ not only rescued us from the power and penalty of our sins, He also lifted us to the realm of grace. He delivered us from punishment and brought glory. He defeated death and won for us eternal life. He took away the threat of hell and gave us the hope of heaven. Too often, we take all these things for granted, which is to say, that we have forgotten the gain we have received. As the French would tell us, gratitude is the memory of the heart. Gratitude should make us sing of salvation, talk of salvation. Thanking God for saving us should be the unceasing occupation of our lips.

Gratitude isn't something that should pass from our minds with the passing of a season. It's an attitude, a God-centred response to circumstances that should pervade every season of our lives. Imagine a Church or a parish that follows the example of the grateful former leper. Imagine serving in a culture of gratitude—not a culture of obligation, or guilt, or arrogance, or exclusion, or pride. A person cannot be complaining and thankful at the same time, nor can they worry about money or health or anything while being thankful. With gratitude comes joy, hope, peace and love. That’s the secret of transformation. It is not found in any programme or slogan or gimmick. True transformation, whether it be in a community like a parish or a family, or personal transformation, always begins with gratitude.

The story of the ten lepers is a wonderful story of the infinite grace and mercy of our Lord and Saviour, one who gives us good gifts, even if we have ungrateful hearts. It is also a story which challenges us to place our trust in God, to follow His commands, and to see the wonderful rewards this brings us. In a few moments we will come to the table of Christ together to celebrate the Eucharist. The word ‘Eucharist’ comes from the Greek word, “eucharistia,” (εὐχαριστία) meaning to give thanks (for the good graces we have received). And so, we give thanks not just because God has healed us, He has liberated us from sin, fear and anxiety. We give thanks because the Sacrifice of the Cross re-enacted at every Eucharist has saved us and continues to make us whole – completing, bringing together and finishing the grand work of salvation which God has begun in us. And I don’t know about you, but the prospect of being made whole, being healed, being liberated and being saved is enough to make me turn around, rush back again to Jesus, and say thank you, Jesus. Thank you so very much.

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.

We dare to say

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

The prayer of Abraham in the first reading stands in contrast to that of our Lord’s in the gospel. If Abraham struggled to find the words to intercede on behalf of the depraved inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah and even attempts to haggle and bargain with God in making a deal, our Lord provides us with the blue print of prayer in the gospel. There is no longer any need on our part to haggle with God or broker a deal like an astute lawyer, businessman or politician. God, the party on the other end of the transaction (if you see prayer as transactional), is already disclosing to us all His cards and the key to winning His favour and acquiescence.

Although what we’ve just read and heard is a different and shorter version of the Lord’s Prayer which we pray at every Mass and in our devotions, it doesn’t tamper the radical demands which we make of God. In fact, the prayer has the audacity of making the following demands of God: we demand intimacy and familiarity with God’s person and name that borders on the contemptuous and blasphemous, we demand the coming of the kingdom, we demand the terra-forming of our trouble ridden earth so that it may become more like a trouble free heaven, we demand daily sustenance from on high, we demand that our sins be forgiven, and finally we demand shelter from temptation and deliverance from evil. If the school of hard knocks has taught us anything, it would be this: never make unreasonable demands, don’t expect the impossible. Well, for man all these may seem impossible; but for God, everything’s possible! We shouldn’t, therefore, feel uncomfortable or embarrassed to recite this prayer, as it is the Lord Himself who teaches us to do so!

This point is recognised in the introduction spoken by the priest at every Mass before the community recites in unison the Lord’s Prayer, "At the Saviour's command and formed by divine teaching, we dare to say..." The phrase ‘we dare to say’ inherently recognises our insignificance before the Father. We are humbly admitting that it has nothing to do with us, in fact, it admits that it is not even something which we can ever hope to accomplish. The words convey a profound sense of unworthiness; we are in no position to make any claims or demands.

The whole phrase places the Lord’s Prayer in a different light – it is no longer to be seen as a cry of entitlement, a demand made on God to fulfill our petitions and wishes. But rather, it is a prayer of humility by someone truly unworthy to even stand before the august presence of God and yet dare to address Him with the familiar “daddy” and make a series of demands of Him. The catechism tells us that “Our awareness of our status as slaves would make us sink into the ground and our earthly condition would dissolve into dust, if the authority of our Father Himself and the Spirit of his Son had not impelled us to this cry . . . ‘Abba, Father!’ . . . When would a mortal dare call God ‘Father,’ if man’s innermost being were not animated by power from on high?” It is by placing ourselves into the position of a child, calling God our Father, that we open ourselves to the grace by which we approach God with the humble boldness of a little child.

This is how we should approach prayer. It should neither be some arcane magical formula that forces the hand of God nor just a mechanical and superficial repetition of words just to appease Him. Prayer should always be rooted in a father-child relationship where the child trusts that the father will always have his best interest in mind even if he doesn’t always get want he wants. The supplicant who comes before God doesn’t need to approach Him as a lawyer who comes before the judge, hoping to outwit and win an argument with the latter. He already knows that the Supreme Judge will always stand with Him and even stand in His place to take the punishment which he deserves.

There is a Latin maxim that addresses the centrality and priority of prayer in the life, identity and mission of the Church; “Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, Lex Vivendi”, the law of prayer reflects the law of faith which determines the law of life. Too often it is the other way around. Our lifestyle choices force our beliefs to conform to them and thereafter affect the way we pray. But when it comes to us Christians, everything begins with prayer. Our lives must be conformed to prayer and not the other way. How we worship and pray not only reveals and guards what we believe but guides us in how we live our Christian faith and fulfill our Christian mission in the world. As much as we are sometimes taken up with the spontaneity of the praying style of our Protestant brethren, and many of us too are tempted to venture into some innovative and creative explorations on our own, we must always remember that the best prayer, or as St Thomas Aquinas reminds us, the most Perfect Prayer, is still the prayer not formulated by any human poet or creative genius but by Christ, the Son of God Himself. In a way, God provides us the words to speak to Him.

Thus, our ability to pray in this way can only come to us by the grace of God - it is only because our Saviour has commanded it and because we have been formed by divine teaching, that ‘we dare to say.’ There is no arrogant audacity in the tone of our voice or the content of our prayer. We take no credit for this prayer. All glory goes to God and to His Christ, Jesus our Lord. We are not the natural sons and daughters of the Heavenly Father. We have no right to address Him by this familiar name. All our words seem banal and fall empty in the light of the pre-existent Word. But because of Jesus through baptism, I have become an adopted child. The Father is revealed to us by His Son and we can approach Him only through the Son. Because of Jesus, my prayer now derives an amazing and miraculous efficacy. For that reason, we dare to call God “Our Father.” Through this prayer, the unapproachable God becomes approachable. The unknown God is made known. The strange and unfamiliar God becomes familiar and a friend. The prayer unspoken is already answered!

Faith, Hope and Love

Fifth Sunday of Easter Year C

One of the greatest malaise of our times and our present generation is that we seem to be totally demotivated. In fact, our generation has been described as Generation D - the generation which is highly demotivated, disillusioned and most easily disappointed. Most people have lost fervour, direction or purpose in doing anything. From the student to the worker, from the person serving in a church ministry to the priest himself. We seem to have run out of fuel or new ways. And so, we have motivational speakers raking up millions just to give us shallow talking points to make us feel sufficiently good enough to carry on another day without having to drag our feet through the mud or just sit down and wallow in it.

Many of you may be hoping that a homily you hear from the priest on a Sunday would serve the same purpose, with perhaps less hype and without much injury to your wallet. Looking at our Sunday collections, I honestly wonder whether we priests have met up with even your lowest expectations.

But guess what? Today’s readings provide you with a treat. Scripture, the Church, offers you not just one but three essential points on how to reignite the fire in your life and keep you going. Nothing novel here but sometimes the best piece of advice would be the perennial truths we have forgotten but need the most. The three readings provide us with the remedy to our triple D problems - they are the three theological virtues - faith, hope and charity.

What is a virtue? The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that “a virtue is a habitual and firm disposition to do the good. It allows the person not only to perform good acts but to give the best of himself.” As you can see, virtue is not just a lack of doing what is evil. To refrain from looting, burning, and name-calling does not make us virtuous. The CCC (1804) says “The virtuous man is he who freely practices the good.” Personal virtue is the key to improving the world, finding happiness, and helping other people to be good and happy too; yet the ultimate end of virtue is even greater than these great goals: “the goal of a virtuous life is to become like God”. (CCC 1803)

Virtues can be categorised into basically two large categories. The Cardinal human virtues are four: temperance, fortitude, justice, and prudence. They are acquired through human effort, like how one builds up one’s muscles to regular and appropriate exercise. But today, we wish to focus on three theological virtues which are infused in each person at baptism: faith, hope and charity. According to the CCC (1813), “They inform and give life to all the moral virtues. They are infused by God into the souls of the faithful to make them capable of acting as his children and of meriting eternal life.” All these three theological virtues relate directly to God and are necessary for a relationship with Him. With faith, we believe in God and all He has revealed to us. With hope, we recognise that God is our fulfillment. We trust in the promises of God and desire His kingdom and eternal life with Him. Through charity “we love God above all things for his own sake and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God” (CCC 1822).

In the first reading taken from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear of the exploits of St Paul and St Barnabas, the earliest missionaries of the Church. Their mission was to strengthen faith for those who already believed but were now facing hardships in the form of opposition and persecution, and also to plant the seeds of faith among those who had not heard the gospel of Christ. To ensure that faith continued to flourish, it was essential that they established stable community of Christians under the leadership of persons whom they have appointed. Though faith is a theological virtue that is given by God, it must be planted with preaching and witnessing of the gospel, and then nourished, tended and strengthened. This is an important reminder to us that we too are called to share in Christ’s mission to witness the gospel and thereafter to mentor and accompany others as we grow together in faith.

In the second reading, we have a powerful glimpse at the New Jerusalem which awaits the faithful after their long and arduous sojourn on this earth. “Here God lives among men. He will make His home among them … He will wipe away all tears from their eyes; there will be no more death, and no more mourning or sadness.” Such a spectacular vision is necessary because the gift of eternal life promised by Christ can be so easily obscured and forgotten in the midst of the troubles, suffering and hardships we have to endure on earth. When faced with obstacles which drag us down, where do we find the energy to press on, the second wind to finish the race? The answer lies in the virtue of hope. Hope is the strongest source of courage and strength. If you trust God’s promises of the incomparable happiness of Heaven, you can give up any earthly good or endure any earthly trial for that.

In the Gospel, we hear our Lord present to us His disciples the new commandment of love, to love one another as Christ loved us. Since the world brandishes the word love indiscriminately, we often get confused with the concept of love in its many expressions and incarnations. It is clear that the love which our Lord references here is more than just “being nice”, or “tolerant”, or “affectionate. Now there’s nothing wrong with tolerance, or affection or basic decency. But these, in themselves, are not the love that our Lord taught, the love He lived. His love transcends mere feelings of affection, and it’s exponentially harder than simple kindness or even basic tolerance. People don’t get crucified for being nice.

So, what is this love that the Lord says is the be-all and end-all of human living? This is a kind of love, in the words of Pope Benedict, that “seeks the good of the beloved…ready, and even willing, for sacrifice.” Love is giving one’s very self freely to and for the other, even when it hurts the giver. This is the love the Lord taught. This is the love He lived, all the way to the cross. Make no mistake: there’s nothing wishy-washy or mushy about this love.

What the world believes in today is not a faith in God but in science and in man’s resources. What the world promotes today is optimism, a false substitute for hope. What the world calls love today, is a counterfeit of love - it is self-preservation rather than self-giving. What passes as faith, hope and love today, is another excuse for sin. But the truth is that sin has nothing to do with faith, hope and love. In fact, sin is the exact opposite of authentic faith, hope and love. Sin obscures faith, drags us into despair and distorts and destroys love.

So, we must be like the missionaries St Paul and St Barnabas in the first reading – we must never tire of putting “fresh heart into the disciples, encouraging them to persevere in the faith.” If the road seems long and the work seems dreary, keep your eyes on the finishing line - the new heavens and the new earth, where every tear will be wiped away, death and mourning will be no more. But until that day, let us do everything with love. Love compels us Christians to preach the Good News in and out of season, even when it is unpopular to do so. Seems simple enough but you and I know how challenging it is to live out the demands of love, which call us to not only pay lip service but sacrifice for one whom we profess to love. Faith, hope and love are what motivate us to move forward even when the odds are against us, when the challenges seem impossible and when all seems lost and hopeless.

Start all over, make a new beginning

Easter Sunday

Some folks are simply morning people. They go to bed early and wake up in the wee hours of the morning while everyone else is still tucked snugly into their beds counting sheep. I’m not one of those folks. I follow a diametrically opposite regime - late nights and waking up just in time for morning rituals and Mass. I’ve often admired the members of our morning Mass animating team who get up early every morning to prepare our chapel for daily Mass and still have time to spare for morning devotions and Lauds before Mass. I guess they too would have been the first to discover the good news of what had happened on that first Easter morning, while the rest of us are still shaking off the slumber of the previous night.

Well, Mary Magdala in today’s gospel was indeed rewarded with her early morning ritual on this very day over two thousand years ago: “It was very early on the first day of the week and still dark, when Mary of Magdala came to the tomb.” Only in John’s account is Mary pictured alone. She is accompanied by other women in the other gospel accounts of the resurrection. It would make more sense for a gaggle of women, for strength lies in numbers, to make their way to this place, to a cemetery, what more a place guarded by soldiers. But St John the Evangelist is content to state that Mary made this journey alone. Perhaps, it was too early for the others or they had stayed away due to fear for their own safety. The male disciples were no where to be seen. They must be drowning in sorrow, grieving over the death of the Lord or perhaps were still held captive by fear.

Mary was there because of unfinished business. On Good Friday, we heard at the end of the long Passion reading, how our Lord was hurriedly prepared for burial, wrapped in a shroud filled with spices, “a mixture of myrrh and aloes.” In the other gospels, it was noted that it was done in such a hurry because the sabbath, which prohibited such rituals, was about to begin and there was no time to complete what needed to be done. Whatever may have been the circumstances, Mary was there because she had unfinished business. Firstly, to complete in a more thorough manner the dictates of Jewish burial customs and secondly, to bring some closure to her own profoundly deep sense of loss.

Mary was there early in the morning just as we are here this morning because it is insufficient to close an episode of our lives after the death of a loved one with his or her funeral. Sometimes we believe that if the person who hurt us passes away, like a parent or spouse, their death will bring peace to our lives. However, in reality it usually brings more sorrow and regret because it leaves us with a sense of things being left unfinished. Funerals can be beautifully consoling experiences, bringing solace to the grieving, camaraderie among the survivors, healing to scars opened by the barb of loss, but it can never truly bring a closure to the wounds we experience both emotionally and psychologically.

If funerals are the last thing we can do for the one we have lost, there is much unfinished business that needs attention and further resolution. Our commemoration of the Lord’s life cannot end with Good Friday. It must find fulfilment and completion on Easter Sunday. And that is why Good Friday is leavened with the promise of Easter. Easter is when our Lord completes His work of redemption. On Easter, our Lord completes the unfinished business often left hanging in our lives.

There’s a song from one of my favourite artists from the 80s and 90s, Tracy Chapman, that has a stanza in it that goes like this:

“The whole world’s broke, it ain’t worth fixing
It’s time to start all over, make a new beginning
There’s too much pain, too much suffering
Let’s resolve to start all over, make a new beginning.”

Easter means the “making right” of things that have gone wrong: the forgiveness of sins; the reversal of death; the repair of broken relationships with God, each other and creation. This is not just an elusive ideal but a reality. Christ’s resurrection has made this certain. This is the powerful message of Easter that continues to unravel its mysteries over the course of our lives. This is what we look forward to, a new creation. A transformation. We will not merely be going back to normal, we will be going forward to something different, something new. It’s an illusion to think that we’re going to return to the way life was before. There is no going back. The past is an empty tomb. Our Lord is Risen, He is not there!

What unfinished business is waiting for us? Is it a conversation we’ve been afraid to have with someone? Is it a decision we’ve been putting off? Is it a relationship with someone that needs mending? Today’s message is really that none of these questions need receive a silent answer nor lead us to a dead end. We are challenged once again to engage the unfinished business before us and live the resurrection—through the actions we can take, attitudes we can adopt, ready to allow the Lord to write the next chapter in our own gospel. And also, ready to discover how the risen Jesus is present NOW, in our time and place. As St Paul assures us, be “confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Phil 1:6). Christ IS risen. He is Risen indeed! Alleluia!