Give me a drink

Third Sunday of Lent Year A

Conversation starters come in various forms, shapes and sizes. From mundane topics like the weather to more animated divisive issues like politics, conversation starters have always played an important role in setting the tone for social interaction - its success and failure has always depended on saying the right things at the right time and in the right company. Who could have guessed that a topic on water and thirst could lead to such profound theological depth in this exchange between the Samaritan woman and the Lord. The hot and dry desert climate must have given the word ‘thirst’ an intensified meaning and made this a “hot” topic.

Our Lord appears on the scene, apparently thirsty, asking for a drink. Pause for a moment to take that in - Jesus thirsts – also one of the last words He utters from the cross. It is consoling to note that God thirsts for us, for our liberation and our salvation. But the story soon ironically evolves into a tale that focuses on the unquenchable thirst of the woman, a thirst that cannot be sated by her unending search for love, acceptance, spirituality, and faith. This would only be possible with Christ.

At one juncture of this long conversation, the Lord would ask the woman: "If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water'. The Samaritan woman’s response to Jesus is filled with sarcasm and incredulity, 'Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?' Our Lord is unperturbed and replies. 'Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.' Who could refuse a promise like this, especially the prospect of not having to lug home a heavy bucket of water from the village well? It is no surprise that she then softens and finally concedes, 'Sir, give me this water.” Did she really understand what she was asking?

The depth of the well is a good starting point to speak of the gravity of the spiritual thirst of the Samaritan woman and that of every soul. In the ensuing debate of which is the greater shrine, the Samaritan one built close to the site of the historical well or the Jerusalem Temple - the Samaritan woman argues the pre-eminence of the Samaritan site by praising the greatness of Jacob, the giver of the well. As far as the Samaritans were concerned that well contained holy water, because historically identified with the ancestor of her race – their national hero. But irony is apparent once again. If we would run a contest for the most passionate and thirsty individual of the Old Testament, Jacob will make the top three. Who else cheats his brother and father for his inheritance, works fourteen years for the woman he loves, wins a wrestle match with the Angel of the Lord and sires the nation that delivers the Messiah?

But then Jacob’s well is unable to solve the ‘unquenchable thirst’ of the Samaritan woman, indeed of every soul. Jacob’s well is a picture of the waters of this world. It speaks of every natural pleasure and ‘painkiller’ for the soul ever invented. Be it the best of technology, most advanced device, latest political ideology, entertainment, immorality, intoxicant or pornography. The waters of this world cannot quench the profound thirst of the human heart. Quoting Jesus ‘whoever drinks of this water will thirst again.’

In 2011, Pope Benedict addressed a crowd of a half million young people in Sydney, Australia, on the occasion of the World Youth Day. He was keenly aware of the spiritual thirst of the many souls gathered there, some who had travelled long distance to catch a glimpse of the Pope, many fuelled by curiosity and the perennial thirst for an answer to life’s mysteries. Pope Benedict told them that "in so many of our societies, side by side with material prosperity, a spiritual desert is spreading: an interior emptiness, an unnamed fear, a quiet sense of despair. How many of our contemporaries have built broken and empty cisterns (cf. Jer 2:13) in a desperate search for meaning?" No doubt about it, our wells are indeed deep! The great catechist then identified the things we are thirsting for: love that endures, opportunity to share gifts, unity based on truth, communion that respects the freedom of the other person. These can be summed up as thirst or longing for three things: goodness, beauty and truth, the three transcendentals. But, said the Holy Father, instead of goodness, beauty and truth, what our society offers is choice, novelty and subjective experience. Those things are not bad in themselves, but to stop there is like substituting the authentic goldmine for a poor imitation, to settle for a depleting source of water rather than for an endless supply of living water from the Source itself.

God created man with the capacity to worship Him and the need to be in fellowship with Him. Science fiction writer, H. G. Wells, writes that every person has a “God-shaped vacuum in his heart - a void that only God can fill.” St Augustine puts it this way, “My soul is restless ‘till it rests in Thee.” As you all know, the life of Augustine is a replay of the life of our gospel’s protagonist, the Samaritan Woman. Behind Augustine is a succession of desperate searches for fulfillment: excessive pleasures, false religions, philosophies, dissipation and distractions—futilities that left him so weary of himself. At the very moment when his yearning led him to desperation, circumstances led his eyes to a passage in Scripture – to the one thing, no, to the one person who could heal his weariness and satisfy his longing thirst, Christ.

The depth of the well proves a challenge to anyone who has no recourse to a rope and a bucket. The well becomes a most suitable symbol of the human soul. But the good news is that you do not need a rope or a bucket to reach the living water which our Lord promises. The well from which this living water flows is the unfathomable depths of God’s love. And so buried deep within us is this spiritual aquifer – it is the place of deep communion between God’s spirit and ours. It lies hidden beneath layers of superficiality, our preoccupations with all things material and tangible, our dalliance with world delights and pursuits, our ambition for power and mastery. Though too deep for us, our wells are never too deep for Him. We only have to ask, “Master, give me this water,” we are assured of a drink from the well of God’s immense riches which promises life and immortality. Thereafter, we shall never be thirsty again.

In the beginning

Christmas Mass During the Day 2022

The great Feast and Solemnity of the Nativity of Christ is the second most important feast in the Church’s Liturgical Calendar after the Great Pasch, the Feast of Easter. Its importance is attested by the liturgy in the three masses celebrated on Christmas Day proper – the Midnight Mass, the Dawn Mass and presently, what we are celebrating now, the Mass during the day. Because the feast of Christmas is so great, the Church does not stop rejoicing after one or even two special Masses. She continues her worship with a third, the Mass of the Day. And so after a marathon of masses, just when you thought you’ve exhausted everything that needs to be said about Christmas, we find ourselves right back at the beginning. Not just to the beginning of the Christmas story that took place two millennia ago in Bethlehem, but to the very beginning, before God embarked on the great enterprise of creation, before the beginning of the history of man and the universe.

“In the beginning…” that’s how the Prologue of St John’s gospel begins. St John does not start the story of Jesus in the usual way as in the case of Ss Matthew and Luke who provide two different versions of His infancy narratives. He says nothing about the way Jesus was born. Rather, he takes us back in time to "the beginning” and his opening line is deliberately chosen because everyone knows that’s how the entire bible and first book of the Bible (Genesis 1:1) begins: “In the beginning.” In Hebrew - be’ resh’ it. If in the book of Genesis, we hear how everything began with God’s creative act, in John’s prologue we will see the One who was behind that act and who is responsible for our salvation.

In the beginning, John says, was "the Word" or ‘logos’ in Greek. To the uninitiated, the "Word" here may seem ambiguous, but it becomes clear in verse 14 that John is talking about a person: "The Word was made flesh, He lived among us." The Word is not just an impersonal concept but a person. The Word became a human being, a Jew by the name of Jesus. But the Word was also at the beginning, the Word was with God and then John makes this audacious claim, “the Word was God!” Jesus Christ, the child born in the humble stable of Bethlehem and laid in a manger is no ordinary child. He is the Divine Creator-Word, He is the Son of God; He is God.

By using the word ‘Word’ or ‘Logos’, St John was using a term that had rich meaning to Greek and Jewish philosophers. They also believed that God had created everything through His word, or His wisdom. Since God was a rational being, He always had a word with Him. The "word" was His power to think — His rationality, His creativity. According to Plato, the world of ideas was more perfect than the material world, which could only provide a poor copy of the former. John takes this idea and gives it a radical twist: The Word became flesh. Something in the realm of the perfect and the eternal became part of the imperfect and decaying world. That was a preposterous idea, people might have said. It is no wonder that John tells us that when the Word came into the world, “the world did not know him. He came to his own domain and his own people did not accept him.”

Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI gives us a beautiful reflexion. He says that this rejection by His own people, “refers first and foremost to Bethlehem, the Son of David comes to his own city, but has to be born in a stable, because there is no room for him at the inn. Then it refers to Israel: the one who is sent comes among his own, but they do not want him. And truly, it refers to all mankind: He through whom the world was made, the primordial Creator-Word, enters into the world, but he is not listened to, he is not received. These words refer ultimately to us, to each individual and to society as a whole. Do we have time for our neighbour who is in need of a word from us, from me, or in need of my affection? Do we have time and space for God? Can he enter into our lives? Does he find room in us, or have we occupied all the available space in our thoughts, our actions our lives for ourselves?” These are questions we must constantly ask ourselves.

Jesus did not just bring a message about God — He Himself was the message. He showed us in the flesh what God is like. We are more than just people of the Book, as Muslims would claim. We are people of the Word of God, the Word who is, who was and will ever be God. We are not just called to be acquainted with the words in our Bible or in the Catechism of the Church. We are called to encounter the Word Himself, Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Saviour – the true light that enlightens all men – a light that shines even in the dark, a light that darkness could not overpower.

Our celebration today is testimony to the immense beauty of encountering the word of God in the communion of the Church. In listening to the word, may we become one with the Word. But it is also the Word that became flesh. So, as Catholics we are called not only to be in communion with God and with each other through the words of scripture but more perfectly through Holy Communion. Christmas is a call to conversion, to be renewed in our “personal and communal encounter with Christ, the word of life made visible, and to become his heralds, so that the gift of divine life – communion – can spread ever more fully throughout the world. Indeed, sharing in the life of God, a Trinity of love, is complete joy (cf. 1 Jn 1:4). And it is the Church’s gift and inescapable duty to communicate that joy, born of an encounter with the person of Christ, the Word of God in our midst. In a world which often feels that God is superfluous or extraneous, we confess with Peter that he alone has “the words of eternal life” (Jn 6:68). There is no greater priority than this: to enable the people of our time once more to encounter God, the God who speaks to us and shares his love so that we might have life in abundance (cf. Jn 10:10).” (Verbum Domini, # 2)

Incarnate Humility

Christmas Mass During the Night 2022

One of the most impactful experiences I had as a newly ordained priest was when I had the privilege of ministering to a group of Vietnamese textile workers in Nilai. They emerged at one Christmas gathering organised by the parish for migrants and asked me if I could celebrate Mass for their community at their “hotel” (of course, they meant “hostel”). When I asked them if they had space in their “hotel” large enough to host a Mass, they excitedly told me that they had a hall. I asked them how many persons the hall can accommodate and they said 50. When I asked them how many Catholics were living there, they told me “300!”

I was having trouble doing the maths, so, I asked them how a hall meant for 50 persons could accommodate 300. Their answer simply floored me: “we will take turns.” In a world where so many feel entitled and are constantly complaining about how their demands are not being met, a world where everyone is jostling for the best seats and the best slots in the Christmas Mass schedule, here was a community who revealed to me the most needed virtue of humility which today’s feast epitomises - how one can and should give up one’s place for another – a reflexion of how our Lord emptied Himself of His divinity to make room for us in heaven, even though we collectively denied Him hospitality on earth!

The beauty of Christ’s humility on this feast day reveals as much as it conceals. He demonstrates through His own birth, the meaning of humility, which is to “give up everything that does not lead to God.” This is a necessary reminder especially when humility is no longer in vogue or respected. Instead, it is held in contempt. Humility is often regarded as a sign of weakness and even stupidity, a lack of prudence in an age that demands street wise tactics and an ego the size of a football field in order to survive or be admired. Thus, humility revealed as the pathway to God is concealed to our modern senses.

The capacity to change and influence the world requires a whole list of factors missing from the Christmas story: wealth, power, a degree from a prestigious university, stage charisma, success, achievement, a proven track record, connexions with the right people, a magical public relations team and lots of media promotion. Juxtaposed against the narrator’s introduction of a seemingly all powerful Roman emperor who can move the various nations on earth as if they were his pawns, and a less powerful politician but still formidable provincial governor, the story of a child born to poor humble parents would seem too trivial for the telling. But this child would be the main protagonist of our Christmas story and not the former two.

Today, the humble often go unnoticed and are deemed insignificant. They make no impact in our lives and hardly warrant a flicker of our attention. The role models of our society are not the humble, but the selfishly ambitious, the proud, the arrogant. The people that our society looks up to – royalty, businessman, politicians, sports heroes, celebrities, actors and actresses, singers, entertainers – they all tend to have one thing in common: a very high regard for themselves, insatiable ego and ambition, and a great talent for self-promotion.

But let us now consider the humility of the Incarnation itself, the second person of the Trinity, the eternal Son of God, taking on humanity with all of its limitations, with all of its pain and sorrow and suffering. It is impossible to fathom the transformation the Lord Jesus endured to leave the glorious perfection of heaven, for a manger. The Son of God gave up His honour and glory, He let go of His position, He relinquished all of the riches of heaven, in order to become poor like us, in order to save us from our sins. He gave up that glory in order to become a human baby, a helpless little infant.

Not even a royal baby, not the son of a king; not a wealthy baby, the son of money and privilege. But instead, a peasant child born to poverty and want, raised in very humble circumstances. Surrounded not by God’s holy angels and the glory of heaven, but instead surrounded by sinful, fallen human beings (with the exception of His immaculately conceived mother) and a stinking, dirty barn. But Christ’s humility didn’t end with His birth or His childhood. It continued throughout His life.

So, how do we come before Him on this Christmas night? What can we offer to Him who created the universe and gave us everything we possess? The answer is this: we come to Him in humility, we come to Him with nothing to offer but ourselves, when we have learnt how to “give up everything that does not lead to God, and all our worldly ambitions.” Thus, the only way in which we can truly come to encounter our Lord and Saviour on this Christmas day, is to adorn the garment of humility and condescend to where He has chosen to lay His head for the night. If we want to restore Christmas to our culture, it will require more than just good intentions; it would require radical humility. We will need to give up seats on the pews or places in line. We will need to show grace, even when grace is not given. We will need to humble ourselves and follow the example set by the baby in the manger, the shepherds in the field, and Mary and Joseph as they agreed to God’s plan.

Today, anyone wishing to enter the Church of the Lord’s Nativity in Bethlehem, constructed over the site where tradition holds Jesus was born, will find that the doorway five and a half metres high, through which emperors and caliphs used to enter the building, is now largely walled up. Only a low opening of one and a half metres has remained (less than 5 feet). The intention was probably to provide the church with better protection from invaders, but above all, to prevent people from entering God’s house on horseback. Anyone wishing to enter the place of Jesus’ birth has to get off his high horse and bend down, before entering.

Pope Emeritus Benedict in reflecting over the height and size of this doorway writes: “It seems to me that a deeper truth is revealed here, which should touch our hearts on this holy night: if we want to find the God who appeared as a child, then we must dismount from the high horse of our “enlightened” reason. We must set aside our false certainties, our intellectual pride, which prevents us from recognising God’s closeness. We must follow the interior path of Saint Francis – the path leading to that ultimate outward and inward simplicity which enables the heart to see. We must bend down, spiritually we must as it were go on foot, in order to pass through the portal of faith and encounter the God who is so different from our prejudices and opinions – the God who conceals Himself in the humility of a newborn baby. In this spirit let us celebrate the liturgy of the holy night, let us strip away our fixation on what is material, on what can be measured and grasped. Let us allow ourselves to be made simple by the God who reveals himself to the simple of heart. And let us also pray especially at this hour for all who have to celebrate Christmas in poverty, in suffering, as migrants, that a ray of God’s kindness may shine upon them, that they – and we – may be touched by the kindness that God chose to bring into the world through the birth of his Son in a stable. Amen.”

Love has won

Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

There is a popular adage to describe the beginning and end of life: “from the womb to the tomb.” As poignant and insightful as this statement may be, it is inaccurate. Our faith allows us to broaden our vision and to recognise that human life begins with God, we were already part of His grand plan before we were formed in our mother’s womb, and we are destined not to end our lives in the tomb but to be united with Him at the end of our earthly sojourn. Mary’s life is proof of this. She, whose womb is greater than the heavens because it contained the Lord Creator of heaven and earth and “bore” Him to this world, could not be contained in an earthly tomb at the end of her earthly journey. Heaven welcomed her eagerly and joyously for she had accomplished what the heavens could not.

The story of Mary did not begin in the womb of St Anne, her mother. She was already prefigured in the pages of the Old Testament because her creation was already part of God’s design for humankind’s redemption. In the Book of Genesis, we see her coming being announced in the text known as the protoevangelium which gave us a glimmer of hope after the Fall of Man (Gen. 3:15-16). The prophecy is that a virgin will give birth without having a relationship with a man, and the Child will crush the head of the invisible enemy, namely Satan. In the Old Testament the Ρatriarch Jacob sees in his dream a heavenly ladder which connected Heaven and Earth, with the angels of God ascending and descending this ladder. The Fathers of the Church see this ladder as a prophecy of the Virgin Mary which, through her, connects man to God (Gen. 28:l2). When Moses finds himself in front of the flaming bush which was not consumed by the fire on Mount Sinai, the fact that the Blessed Virgin Mary was to receive in her womb the Divine Logos, and that she was to remain a Virgin, are prophesied.

If Mary’s mission began before she was formed in her mother’s womb, we can only assume that it would have a far grander ending than in a tomb. It is only right that the mother’s life which was so intimately intertwined with her divine Son’s life should also share His eternal destiny at the end of her earthly life. If her Son’s empty tomb was the first sign and proof of His resurrection, her empty tomb would also be the first sign of her bodily Assumption to heaven.

Early Christian writings tell us that St John the Apostle took Mary with him to Ephesus, as he had been instructed by the Lord on the cross. There is some dispute about where the Blessed Virgin ended her life, perhaps there in Ephesus, perhaps back at Jerusalem on Mount Zion. Neither of these cities nor any other claimed her remains, although there are claims about possessing her (temporary) tomb. Why did no city claim the bones of Mary? Apparently because there were no bones to claim, and people knew it. Remember that in the early Christian centuries, relics of saints were jealously guarded and highly prized. Yet here was Mary, certainly the most privileged of all the saints but we have no record of her bodily remains being venerated anywhere. The Orthodox Shrine at the foot of the Mount of Olives, which Orthodox Christians claim was her final resting place, is empty, as empty as the Holy Sepulcher, the traditional site of the tomb of Jesus. There are no relics to venerate because Mary was assumed into heaven both body and soul leaving no remains behind.

Mary’s privileged beginning and ending is rooted in what makes her blessed, or in some translations “happy”. In today’s gospel we see how Mary is praised by an anonymous woman in the crowd because her womb bore the Lord and her breasts suckled Him. This is the first beatitude assigned to a specific human person, and Mary has the sole privilege of being the bearer of this blessing. But the Lord was quick to point out that Mary is more blessed because of her disciple’s heart: “Still happier those who hear the word of God and keep it!” Pope Benedict affirmed this truth: “Mary lived on the Word of God, she was imbued with the Word of God. And the fact that she was immersed in the Word of God and was totally familiar with the Word also endowed her later with the inner enlightenment of wisdom.”

Most of the peoples of the ancient world, if they believed in life after death at all, believed merely in the immortality of the human soul: as if the ultimate human destiny was for us all merely to end up like Casper the friendly Ghost! Not much "good news" in that! But the Gospel message is not only that Jesus Himself rose again in a glorified body and soul, but that also, if our hearts live in union with His, we, too, shall rise to a glorified life, body and soul, just like His own. This is precisely what the Assumption of Mary proclaims: "Christ is Risen - and is now bringing all faithful hearts with Him to glory!" The Assumption of Mary is a loud and triumphant proclamation of the full truth of Easter. Her assumption—which flows from her unique participation in Christ’s victory—anticipates to some degree our own share in the fullness of that victory if we persevere as followers of Christ. The good news that the Apostles proclaimed to the world was not only that Christ is Risen, but that, precisely because He is Risen, He is bringing His whole mystical Body on earth to join Him one day in heavenly glory.

Yes, today is a day the Church rejoices, not only because the Blessed Virgin Mary has been freed from the prison of the grave and assumed into heaven both body and soul, but because of what her assumption means for the whole Church. From Mary’s pure womb, the kingdom of God was opened for us. And her ascent into the Heavens now also announces that the gates of heaven are also opened to us. Pope Emeritus Benedict sums it up in his homily for this feast: “The Feast of the Assumption is a day of joy. God has won. Love has won. It has won life. Love has shown that it is stronger than death, that God possesses the true strength and that his strength is goodness and love. Mary was taken up body and soul into Heaven: there is even room in God for the body. Heaven is no longer a very remote sphere unknown to us.”

Come and Die

Thirteenth Ordinary Sunday Year C

One of the preliminary questions posed during the rite of marriage is this: “Are you ready, freely and without reservation, to give yourselves to each other in marriage?” The couples usually have no problems answering this question in the affirmative, but I doubt whether they fully understand the enormity of the demand made of them – that this irrevocable promise is unconditional (without reservation). I think the best analogy which could be used to stress the weight of this promise is to liken it to the couple volunteering to join a cruise on the Titanic. There’s no turning back. There are no life boats. There is no emergency reset button. You either sink, swim or drown together. That’s what it means to have no reservations, no regrets!

Most people would consider this example as hyperbole. No one really expects you to ‘burn your bridges.’ In fact, "not burning your bridges!" is often a piece of advice given to people who are going through major changes and significant moves in their life. Caution demands a tentative commitment - we need to have an ‘insurance policy’, a ‘Plan B’, just in case things don’t work out. It’s playing it safe and having a fallback. And that is often good advice when it comes to most matters. Whether you’re talking about employment, family, or money, the old adage applies. Don’t burn all your bridges. Keep your options open.

But, conventional wisdom is turned on its head when it comes to Christian discipleship. Those who are called by God, are often asked to burn their bridges. They are not called to do the safe thing; they are called to do the risky thing. There is no retreat. It’s taking the “leap of faith.” Following Jesus is like skydiving. Once you make the jump, you are totally committed! Those who are called by God are not called to do the easy, safe thing. They are called to burn their bridges. They are called to board the Titanic with their Master whom they have decided to follow. And it won’t sound as nice as Celine Dion’s classic song: “My heart will go on!”

And sometimes that feels more like judgment than Salvation. The first reading is about the call of Elisha to succeed Elijah as God’s prophet. God told Elijah to anoint Elisha as the next prophet of Israel. So Elijah found Elisha in the field, ploughing. Elijah then placed his cloak upon Elisha as a symbol that God had chosen Elisha to be Elijah’s successor. Elisha knew exactly what this meant. It meant that he would have to leave his job, his family and his friends to follow Elijah. And so, Elisha asked if he could perform a symbolic action of cutting off his connexion to the past by bidding farewell to his parents. Elijah agreed. But, Elisha did more than just say goodbye to his family. He had a barbeque for the whole community. He slaughters his oxen and uses his plough to fuel the fire. The cost of discipleship was high for Elisha. This was not just a meal. It was a symbolic way of accepting God’s call. He literally burned his bridges; he burned his only means of making a living in order to move on to a new way of life. It was a costly and risky thing to do. There is no going back for Elisha.

If you believe that this demand made of Elisha was severe, wait till you hear what the Lord does in today’s Gospel. A far greater demand is made for those who wish to be Christ’s followers – they have to risk homelessness and be deprived of family support. Our Lord had earlier outlined the meaning of discipleship. If anyone wanted to follow Jesus on the Way, our Lord wanted to make the consequences clear. They would have to take up their cross. They would have to share the sacrifice as well as the glory. Discipleship has a high price tag. When the disciples of Jesus take up the mantle of faith, they also take up a cross. The cross and the resurrection are always within the vision of Jesus. He knows what He faces, and He knows that anyone who goes with Him, must be totally committed. They too must be prepared to face the same odds. He will be rejected and His followers will be rejected as well. There is a foreshadowing of this rejection in today’s Gospel – Jesus is rejected by the Samaritans, as He will be rejected by the chief priests, the elders and religious leaders at Jerusalem.

It is not only the fear of what lies ahead that serves as an obstacle to us following Christ. The Gospel now focuses on what lies in the past, that hinders us from making this radical step of committing to discipleship. It boils down to the question: what are you prepared to give up? Is it our time, our income, our security? Is it our fear of commitment? Is it our fear of rejection by others or objection from our loved ones? The call of God overwhelms and overshadows everything else in the lives of Christian disciples. God’s call takes precedence not only over the worst things in our life but also, it takes precedence over even the best things in our life. Even life’s most important duties are nullified by the call to follow Christ.

Most of us dread that moment. We think that it would be better to have a faith that does not require so much of us. We think that it would be better to have a faith that allows us to remain comfortably entrenched in our old way of life. We would prefer a soft version of the Gospel. The Lord tells us this is not possible. He says that if we put our hand to the plough and then look back, we are not fit for the kingdom of God. When one is ploughing, it is always important to keep a fixed point that is far ahead of you in your sight. In this way, you are able to plough a straight furrow. The words of Jesus are another way of saying that disciples must always keep their eyes fixed on Him. As Pope Benedict reminded us in his first encyclical, God is Love, "Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.” Jesus is our new horizon, our destination.

And like Him we are encouraged to look beyond the shame and frustration of the moment, to the eternal hope of the Resurrection and Salvation. Remember the road to Jerusalem is not only about a crucifixion but also a resurrection. That was true for Jesus, and it is true for us as well.

The call of discipleship is often stark, demanding, and uncomfortable. Going with Jesus on the road to Jerusalem is always dangerous. Going with Jesus will change us and change is always painful and frightening. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German Lutheran theologian who gave up a safe asylum to teach in New York in order to return to his homeland to be imprisoned and executed once said, that when Jesus calls us to follow Him, what He's really saying is "come and die". And yet, despite the challenge, it is a journey worth taking. St Paul reminds us in his letter to the Galatians, that the call of Jesus is a call to liberty – Jesus by calling us to “come and die”, means to set us free from the “yoke of slavery” to sin, to liberate us from our addictive ‘self-indulgence.’ It is only through the long and difficult personal struggle to follow Jesus that we learn this paradoxical truth: “For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it.” To follow Jesus means that we have to burn our bridges – no turning back, no turning back.

Earth Wind Fire Water

Pentecost Sunday

The Holy Spirit, the Third person of the Most Holy Trinity, being pure spirit, would be the hardest member to picture in our mind’s eye since He, unlike the Second Person, was never incarnated in human form, or like the First Person, the Heavenly Father, has no equivalence in our human experience. Cardinal Ratzinger, who later became Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, would, therefore, write, that we “cannot reveal the Spirit directly, so all we can do is try, by means of images, to lead toward what is meant.”

The most common symbolic depiction of the Holy Spirit would be that of a dove, since it has a strong scriptural basis in the event of the Lord’s Baptism. But the first reading, which gives us the sole account of the event of the Pentecost, provides us with four elemental symbols: earth, wind, fire and water. Fans of the eponymous soul funk band of the 70s would be thrilled to know this. If you are from a different era, ignore my digression.

Earth. Wind. Fire. Water. The four classical elements of the universe were originally conceived by the ancient Greek philosopher Empedocles, five hundred years before Christ, and popularised by Aristotle. Of course, we are not going to dispute the error and the naïveté of the ancients in postulating this simplistic explanation that the entire universe is made up of these basic building blocks. We are not going to split hairs, or to be more precise, split atoms to refute this ancient science. On this feast of Pentecost, we are invited to consider them as entry points into the story of divine love and presence, that encompasses all creation.

The association of these four material elementals with the ephemeral Spirit, points to something foundational to our Catholic perception of the universe - we speak of the Sacraments as outward signs of inward grace; the invisible spiritual realm hidden within and being expressed through the visible and material realm.

The first element is earth. At first appearance, this seems to be the furthest idea from the Spirit since earth is the most solid of the four elementals. But earth is the first element the Creator used as He conjoined Himself with His creation to produce His greatest masterpiece - man. The word “human” comes from the Latin word “humus,” and is a direct reference of how God formed man from the earth, and breathed life and His Spirit into this lifeless clay, to create man. Each of us, members of the human race, earthy beings and yet privileged creatures because we are endowed with an immortal soul, are indeed fitting temples of the Holy Spirit. Just as God breathed life into earth to make man; at Pentecost, God breathes His Spirit into the earthen hearts of the disciples, infusing them with new life and making them into His new creation.

The element of earth also reminds us that the Jewish festival of Pentecost or Weeks (since it is made up of seven weeks, a sabbath of a sabbath) predates our Christian celebration. The three great pilgrimage festivals were all harvest festivals and Pentecost was the thanksgiving for the grain harvest. The feast also commemorated the giving of the Law or Ten Commandments to Moses at Sinai. But now, instead of the gift of Law, God has given us a far greater gift, that of the Holy Spirit who writes His law, not on tablets of stone (earth) but in our fleshy hearts. Instead of thanksgiving for a harvest of grains, today is a day of thanksgiving for a harvest of souls incorporated into the Body of Christ, the Church.

The next element is wind. There is nothing subtler than the wind, which manages to penetrate everywhere, even to reach inanimate bodies and give them a life of their own, as we see in the vision of the valley of dry bones (Ezekiel 37). In Hebrew, the word for Spirit, Ruach, could also be translated as breath and wind. The first mention of Ruach in the Bible is in the very first chapter of Genesis (1:2): “And the earth was a formless and desolate emptiness, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit (Ruach) of God was hovering over the surface of the waters.” In the theophanies of God, reference is often made to wind - either as in the form of a storm, a strong gale or even a gentle breeze. Our Lord in speaking to Nicodemus about the Spirit tells him: “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). And then “when Pentecost day came round, they had all met in one room, when suddenly they heard what sounded like a powerful wind from heaven …”

After the wind, came the fire, produced by the confluence of matter and energy: “something appeared to them that seemed like tongues of fire; these separated and came to rest on the head of each of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak foreign languages as the Spirit gave them the gift of speech.” The liturgical colour for Pentecost is red, the colour of fire and blood and the symbol of love. This is also reflected in the traditional prayer to the Holy Spirit, “Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of thy Faithful; and enkindle in them the fire of Thy love…” It is a dangerous prayer, if we stop to think of it, because the Spirit’s fire is pure energy that melts the alloyed heart and purifies it for love.

The final element is water. Water holds such rich symbolic meaning and purpose for us. It strikes the balance in life like nothing else—too little is parched desolation, too much is drowned destruction, but in its fullness, water offers a life-force. In the Gospel for today’s Vigil Mass, our Lord says “Rivers of Living Water shall flow from within him” who believes in me. After they were filled with the Holy Spirit, the disciples left the Upper Room and began to proclaim the Gospel. And on hearing their words, 3000 were baptised that day. From the very day of Pentecost, the Church has celebrated and administered holy Baptism. Indeed St. Peter declares to the crowd astounded by his preaching: “Repent and be baptised every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” With every baptism comes the reminder of the first Pentecost.

The Spirit comes to us today as wind, fire, and water, seeking to shape the earth that we are, into a new creation which we became at our baptism. But our earthen hearts are dry due to sin, resistant to God’s re-shaping, and need a little erosion through the water of the Spirit. Too often, we are consumed by a life that is not of the Spirit. We are fleshly creatures possessing a fleshly mind, meditating on the things of this world while attempting to justify our disordered love for them. Rather than hardening ourselves, trying to become what we want to be, we must remain pliable, open, and responsive to the creative activity of God: we must learn to ‘relax in the hands of God, to let God be the creator. For as we yield to God and allow the Spirit to wash over our muddied self with His divine wind, fire, and water, we will be shocked to find that the deeper He works to erode us, the stronger the rivers of living water will flow through us.

Earth, wind, fire, water. Four elements to ground and inspire and transform and mediate the grace of God for the people of God. For the gift of new life on this feast of Pentecost, for the gift of creation and our participation in it, for the gift of connexion as with one another, and with God who suffuses the whole of creation and community with the divine spirit of Love, for these gifts, may God’s holy name be praised. Come Holy Spirit, Come!

Serve God Alone

First Sunday of Lent Year C

“When Man ceases to worship God he does not worship nothing but worships everything.” This maxim may be the single most quoted line from G.K. Chesterton’s prolific pen, that is, if he had actually written it. No one seems to be able to trace the original source of this quotation, but everyone seems to have no issues about its popular attribution to the great Catholic apologist and writer.

Today’s Gospel begs the question: if the Lord Himself could be subjected to temptations by the devil, what is the worst temptation that can challenge a faithful Christian? Is it lust or some other form of sexual temptation; money or power; insincerity or betrayal or self-righteousness? The answer may not be that obvious from a mere cursory reading of the gospel, but we need only to look back to the first temptation that was wrought by the devil in that pristine paradise known as Eden. Despite God having given Adam and Eve dominion over the whole of creation, a unique authority accorded only to man among all God’s creations, they were still susceptible to the lie of the devil, who tempted them with the authority of becoming “gods.” In other words, they attempted to usurp God’s power as their own. They wanted to be “like gods.”

The Great Temptation—the sin of Adam —is to rewrite the rules, tell God when He may and may not tell us what to do, and to live as our own god. As Pope Emeritus Benedict keenly notes in the first volume of his bestseller, Jesus of Nazareth, “At the heart of all temptations, as we see here, is the act of pushing God aside because we perceive him as secondary, if not actually superfluous and annoying, in comparison with all the apparently far more urgent matters that fill our lives.”

This is the common thread running through all three temptations and all other temptations we face. It is basically this: to treat God as less than God. We are constantly being tested in our trust that God sustains us, protects us and, in fact, delivers us. We would rather trust in our own strength, devices and resources than to trust in God and His Providence. And ultimately, “when Man ceases to worship God he does not worship nothing but worships everything;” material possessions, power, men’s approval and affections.

The three temptations narrated in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke (though in a slightly different sequence) are three manifestations of the same mother of all temptations – to be ‘like gods’. As opposed to doing the will of the Father, Satan tempts Jesus to follow his own path and way. The devil tries to make Jesus believe the fallacy that the end justifies the means. The first temptation seems harmless enough - to make bread. It was the temptation of too much self-reliance, the temptation that posits our belief that we are capable of manufacturing our own salvation through some socio-economic or political solution. The second temptation is the temptation of naked power, it is taking the short cut to salvation, minus the inconvenience of the cross, and thus cancelling the need for genuine conversion. And finally, the third temptation is the temptation for the spectacular and the sensational, seeking a sign, expecting God to do something special, telling Him to do it my way.

But here is how our Lord responded to the three temptations of the devil: to the temptation to satisfy our wants, He says focus on God and not the world. Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and mind and soul. To the temptation of power, our Lord Jesus reminds us that God alone is the source of all abundance and power in our lives. We derive power not from autonomy but from faithful and humble obedience to God. And finally, to the temptation of seeking the approval of others, the Lord reminds us that it is far more important to please God, than it is to please and impress men. Ultimately, the ultimate defence and cure to all forms of temptations is this, putting God first above all else.

Today, this proposal to be like gods, to decide for ourselves what is right and wrong, is still the mother of temptations. It is still the basic temptation in the world today, the temptation to reject God’s norms of right and wrong, norms implanted in human nature and in creation, the temptation to reject divine authority, either direct, or mediated through the magisterial church, and become like gods ourselves. Dissent is never an excuse that one has to think creatively. It is the product of hubris, the arrogance of man who thinks that he is smarter than God and the Church, which Christ had established to provide us with clear guidance and direction. Thus, to submit to the will of God, to be obedient to His voice and to listen to the tender counsel of Mother Church, is not stupidity as many would wish us to think. In fact, to resist the temptation to be gods, calls for the virtues of courage and humility.

Although Lent begins with this meditation on the temptations of Christ and invites us to contemplate our own proclivity to choose sin, we should not be contented to just remain here. A hurdler soon learns that if he starts looking at the hurdles, he is going to fall right on his face. He must fix his gaze on a point at the finish line, and the hurdles will seem to just pass by his eyesight almost unnoticed as he focuses intently on the goal. Well, that's the essence of Lent. The goal of Lent and our Lenten penitential practices, is not Lent. It is to prepare for the triumph of Christ over temptation, sin and death. Our gaze must be fixed on Easter because our Lord’s resurrection is irrefutable proof that sin and death will not have the last say. And so, as we allow ourselves to follow our Lord into the spiritual wilderness of these forty days, we are assured that despite the temptations to turn our backs on God and pretend to be like gods, we have the assistance of the Holy Spirit to guide us back to acknowledge that there is only one God and that “you must worship the Lord your God, and serve him alone.”

Liquid Tomb and Font of Life

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

The muddy yet calm waters of the river Jordan would have posed little threat to the crowds which gathered there to listen to this prophetic figure, with some acceding to be baptised by him after listening to his message of repentance. The contrast of this rustic scene dominated by water, with what many experienced a few weeks ago is stark. A week before Christmas, torrential downpours resulted in unprecedented floods leaving a massive trail of destruction, over 70 thousand persons displaced and casualties. The floods did not just destroy the personal belongings of the victims and deprived them of their homes and livelihood, but also cut them off from basic necessities like food and electricity, and ironically, a clean supply of water.

Water is arguably the most important natural resource in the entire world. All life depends on it. On the other hand, water may be a terrifying life changing force when it comes in the form of hurricanes, floods or tsunamis. Because of its universal nature, it is not surprising that water plays a central role in the Bible as well.

The story of creation in the Book of Genesis is preceded by an editorial note on how the pre-creation cosmos was covered by a watery chaos. One of God’s primary works in creation was to set boundaries and limit the destructive power of water. It is not surprising that man’s rebellion against God’s authority by sinning would be reflected in the great deluge that would destroy the entire world. The floods are just a natural outcome of man seeking to go beyond the limits and boundaries set by God. In contrast to this chaotic and destructive side of water, the Book of Exodus gives us that foundational story of the liberation of the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt, when they crossed the Red Sea. The waters, although proving destructive to the Egyptians, also served to be the instrument of salvation for those favoured by God as they embarked on their journey to freedom and a new-found covenantal identity with God.

The juxtaposition of these two experiences of water, reminds us that water can be both life-giving and destructive. And there is no better place to find these two elements together than in the Sacrament of Baptism. This was excellently expounded by Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI in the first volume of his monumental work, Jesus of Nazareth: 

“On the one hand, immersion into the waters is a symbol of death, which recalls the death symbolism of the annihilating, destructive power of the ocean flood. The ancient mind perceived the ocean as a permanent threat to the cosmos, to the earth; it was the primeval flood that might submerge all life . . . But the flowing waters of the river are above all a symbol of life.” 

Just like water can be both life-giving and death-dealing, baptism has a similar effect on us - it kills original sin and it gives us new life – life of being adopted sons and daughters of God.

But here also lies the problem with Christ seeking baptism. If Christ is the truly sinless One, if He is the Son of God, He is in no need of baptism because He has no need for repentance nor adoption. But the Lord chose to submit Himself to John’s baptism as an expression of His fundamental submission to the Will of the Father and His complete identification with sinners. By submersion in the waters of the Jordan, our Lord publicly associates Himself with those who need repentance and forgiveness, although He has no need of it in actuality. He is already embracing the enormous weight of humanity’s sinfulness, just as He will do again in a definitive and final way on the cross. The mysterious events at the Jordan River already foreshadow the saving acts of Christ’s death and resurrection. The submersion of Jesus in the baptismal waters of the Jordan River prefigures His death on the Cross.

Pope Benedict notes that the icons of the Eastern Church visualise this intrinsic connexion between the Baptism of the Lord and the Paschal Mystery by depicting the waters of the Jordan “as a liquid tomb having the form of a dark cavern, which is in turn the iconographic sign of Hades, the underworld, or hell.” Just as the Lord descends into the swirling waters of death at His baptism, He goes down to the netherworld after His crucifixion to rescue the souls of lost humanity.

In this downward descent, this complete identification with sinners, we grasp the radical humility of our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the One who empties Himself, not clinging to His equality with God but becoming a slave for the sake of our salvation. God could have saved us in any manner that He chose, but He seems to embrace the most difficult and arduous way — the path of Incarnation and accompaniment.

Christianity is the only world religion that believes the omnipotent and mysterious God humbled Himself to become one of His own creatures, embracing the fullness of our humanity in order to redeem us from inside our own nature and condition. The Church has never gotten over the wonder of this divine condescension. We celebrate the Word made flesh, not only in the glory of Christmas, but in the fullness of the liturgy, prayer and moral life of the Christian tradition.

Drawing profound parallels between the Lord’s baptism and our own, we can see that, just as the Lord Jesus is revealed as the Beloved Son at the Jordan, so, too, we receive a new identity in baptism, as adopted children of the Father. Jesus Christ freely shares His very nature with us through the transforming waters of baptism. At the moment of our spiritual rebirth in the font, the Father beholds us with delight, exclaiming, “You are my Son, You are my daughter, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.” Christianity first and foremost, is about whom we have become in Christ, before it is about what we do or how we act.

Just as our common baptism draws us into the very life of being sons and daughters of God, our ordination as priests draws us into the Paschal experience of Christ. We too are called to experience death and new life each day. And this is what Fr Dominic and I must do tomorrow. We are called to die to our attachments to the parish we’ve called home these past few years, so that we may experience a rebirth in the new parishes where we will be posted this coming Monday. As you await your new pastors, I can’t help but see the parallel with today’s Gospel passage which began with this observation by the evangelist: “a feeling of expectancy had grown among the people.” As John the Baptist’s ministry ends with his arrest and Christ is thrust to the fore, both of us too must also take our leave, as your new pastors take up responsibilities of shepherding, sanctifying and teaching the flock that has been entrusted to them. Never forget this - the priest, the figurehead who stands in persona Christi (in the person of Christ), may change but it is the same Christ who remains, for He is the same, yesterday, today and forever. He should be your real focus because He is the One whom the Heavenly Father speaks these words: “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.” Turn to Him in prayer, in hope and in trust, and you will not go astray!

On our knees

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

The rich young man comes before our Lord as a student seeking direction from a teacher, hoping to be enlightened as to how he can inherit eternal life. But as he comes before the Lord, he falls on his knees and addresses the Lord as “Good Master,” without realising that his words and action are revealing more than what he is willing to admit. Our Lord then says to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” Our Lord is not repudiating the attribute of good for Himself in some act of humility, but inviting the man to reflect more deeply on what he had just said and the premise of his potential relationship with the Lord.

Yes, our Lord is not just a good teacher. He is the source and foundation of all goodness. He is God! Pope Francis reminds us that those who wish to understand the mystery of God must first get down on their "knees", in an act of humility, otherwise "they will not understand anything." If we should seek knowledge and wisdom from Him, we should do so on our knees, which is to say that it must be done in prayer, with a heart open to conversion, and with a willingness to grow in faith, and not just in knowledge.

Where there is no relationship with God, there can be no true understanding of Christ or His teachings. Christ is not a puzzle to be solved in a merely intellectual way, nor a textbook to be studied from cover to cover to comprehend His ways. One may have vast encyclopaedic knowledge of the Lord, one may accomplish great deeds of kindness and charity in His name, but without true conversion that leads to assimilating the life of Christ into oneself, our relationship with Christ remains superficial and spiritually barren. Faith, conversion, and holiness, then, all go hand-in-hand with one another. A faith without conversion is a dead faith, a shell of its true form, and is incapable of attaining its proper end of sanctification and divine life, which begins even now here on earth in Baptism and the life of sanctifying grace.

Cardinal Ratzinger, who later became Pope Benedict XVI, wrote: ““The person who prays begins to see; praying and seeing go together because – as Richard of St. Victor says – ‘Love is the faculty of seeing’. . . All real progress in theological understanding has its origin in the eye of love and in its faculty of beholding.” There can be no genuine understanding of the faith without the love of God and faithful adherence to His Word.

This was the issue with the rich young man. He sought the secret to eternal life as an intellectual pursuit but lacked the love for the Lord, to see and grasp the meaning of His words. This man seemed to have the knowledge and he may even be “doing” the right thing by practising what he believed, but he lacked the love for Christ to allow him to make the ultimate sacrifice which our Lord had challenged him to do: “There is one thing you lack. Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” Once again, we see the irony of this man’s actions. The one thing he “lacks,” is that he lacks nothing; the one thing which is holding him back from spiritual progress is the thing that he possesses, or rather the things which “possess” him. If Christ, the source of eternal life, was wholly sufficient for this man, there was no need for him to cling to any other material possessions or earthly securities. Walking away tells us that there were far more important things than eternal life.

But where the man lacks the love for the Lord, which is required for him to move forward, our Lord does not cease in loving Him. The evangelist tells us that the Lord “looked steadily at him and loved him.” It is this gaze of divine love that would have captivated the man’s heart and moved him to surrender all his earthly attachments - if he had seen it. But sadly, preoccupied with his own thoughts, he seems to not have noticed our Lord’s loving gaze. He had eyes only for his possessions, his ambitions and what he risked losing.

Our Lord’s disciples were no better. They condescendingly regard themselves as superior to this rich young man by boasting that they had given up everything, unlike this man who had been unwilling to part with his possessions. They failed to see that they are as equally mistaken as this sincere seeker of truth. The pursuit of eternal life can never be done on the basis of one’s own efforts, rather it is a gift given to those who acknowledge their own neediness. If you recall, our Lord had used the example of children to illustrate this point. And here, our Lord addresses His disciples once again as “children.” Children have no accomplishments with which to earn God’s favour, no status that makes them worthy. In their dependency, they exemplify the only disposition that makes entrance into the Kingdom possible: simply to receive it as a pure, unmerited gift. That is why the possessions of the rich young man and the sacrifices made by the Lord’s disciples are incapable of buying them a place in heaven.

The short parable of the camel and the eye of a needle can be understood in this phrase, “how hard it is…,” which our Lord uses twice. The way of following Christ would always appear hard and even impossible when we place more trust in our own status, knowledge, wealth and abilities as substitutes for trust in God alone. But remember: “For men ….it is impossible, but not for God: because everything is possible for God.” The Kingdom of God, the gift of eternal life, is something utterly beyond human achievement. It cannot be earned, it cannot be claimed as a right, it cannot be bought or bartered for a price, it does not come as a reward for good behaviour. It depends solely on the goodness of God, who freely offers it as a gift. Nothing we are capable of giving up or enduring for the Lord’s sake or “for the sake of the gospel” is worthy of comparison with the eternal life that we will gain in the end. So, there is no need to congratulate yourself if you think that you’ve put in more prayer, more donations, more service than the average person. Never keep a record of what you have done for God. But always remember what He has done for you, something which you can never hope of repaying.

Thus, what is required of us is not just being ambitious of acquiring knowledge or special graces, as if these were brownie points to be accumulated, nor do we need to prove our sincerity by the largesse of our sacrifices and contributions. Rather, what is needed is the humble child-like faith of a disciple who understands that he can only fall at the feet of the One who is the source of all goodness, on whom he depends for everything, including his or her salvation. We are called to come before the Lord “on our knees”, to gaze upon Him in loving adoration, knowing that He loves us back in such a degree that we could never hope to grasp or comprehend or repay.

Consecrated to God for service

Seventh Sunday of Easter Year B

The last line of today’s passage, words uttered in prayer to the Father by our Lord at the Last Supper, contain familiar themes but spun in a uniquely new way. The fact that the Son is on the Father’s mission and we are now sent on mission by the Son is familiar to all of us, “As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world.” The second part of this line, however, contains another familiar theme, but our Lord uses it in a new and, let’s admit, strange way. We who are sinners, certainly recognise our need to be consecrated. But what about Jesus, the All Holy One? Why would He say “I consecrate myself.”

Let’s first examine the concept of “consecration.” You may not know the exact definition of the word but from its general application, we understand it to be making something or someone “holy,” e.g. the priest consecrates the bread and wine during Mass, a religious brother or sister is consecrated to the Lord, buildings are consecrated as churches.

Pope Emeritus Benedict explains the concept of “consecration” in his Chrism Mass homily: “To consecrate something or someone means, therefore, to give that thing or person to God as his property, to take it out of the context of what is ours and to insert it in his milieu, so that it no longer belongs to our affairs, but is totally of God. Consecration is thus a taking away from the world and a giving over to the living God. The thing or person no longer belongs to us, or even to itself, but is immersed in God.” This explanation for “consecration” could easily be applied to that of a sacrifice. A sacrifice is something which we consecrate, set apart for God.

Consecration thus involves movement in two directions – firstly, away from the world, from our grasp, from our control, and then, offered towards God. We then begin to understand the preceding text of today’s passage in the light of this last line:

Jesus consecrates Himself in the sense of Him turning away from the world which has rejected Him and His returning to God. He consecrates Himself by offering His own life on the cross. His consecration is now the basis of our consecration.

And so now, because of what the Lord has done for us, we are to turn away from sin, from the world because we do not belong to the world as much as the Lord does not belong to this world. We are re-orientated - we are turned in the direction of Christ, our spiritual East - turned towards God because through our Lord’s consecration, we too have been consecrated, we have been set apart from the world for God.

This double consecration of our Lord and His followers are re-enacted in the Eucharist. The sacrifice of our Lord, where He consecrates Himself by giving up His life on the altar of the cross to God for our sake, is sacramentally present at every Mass. Our Lord identifies His flesh and blood, given on the cross, as bread and wine and now commands His disciples to eat this bread, which is the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink this wine, the sign of the new covenant. The disciples’ participation in the divine communion, made possible by our Lord’s sacrifice on the cross and deepened by the Eucharist, sustains them on their mission. It is also a reminder that true unity is not man-made; but God-made! Only the All Holy God can make us Holy, and only the Most Holy Trinity, who lives in perfect unity, can make us one.

Now all this may seem to suggest that Christians are elitist and segregationist. We seem to claim that we are better than others, in the sense of being superior to them. Such aloofness and arrogance is certainly not the purpose of consecration. Rather, as Pope Benedict pointed out once again, such consecration “is not a segregation. Rather, being given over to God means being charged to represent others.” The Pope then gives the example of a priest, a man chosen from among the people and “set apart” for God. He explains, “The priest is removed from worldly bonds and given over to God, and precisely in this way, starting with God, he must be available for others, for everyone.” So, our consecration does not place us above others but at the feet of others - in the service of others.

Consecration ultimately leads to communion rather than alienation. In fact, when we choose to get along with the world, when we choose to fit in with the world and its values in order to be accepted and approved by the world, we end up alienating ourselves from God and without God, there can be no true authentic communion with others. The false communion offered by the world comes at a heavy cost. We have to sacrifice whatever is good, true and beautiful.

The Church is wholly serious about the work of building unity because our Lord taught that unity is essential to the life of His disciples, as it is the visible manifestation of their invisible sharing in the divine communion. But the call for unity does not mean that we should be pushing the unity agenda at all costs and do “whatever it takes” to accomplish that goal. Authentic unity cannot be humanly manufactured and achieved at the expense of sacrificing the truth. There can only be true unity if one is consecrated in truth, because a unity based on a lie would be a frivolous and fragile unity. True unity must be built on the foundation of truth because there is no opposition between love and truth. Love which is the fundamental bond of unity always serves truth, and truth is always at the service of charity.

Pope Benedict ends his Chrism Mass homily with this beautiful reminder: “When we talk about being sanctified in the truth, should we forget that in Jesus Christ truth and love are one? Being immersed in Him means being immersed in His goodness, in true love. True love does not come cheap, it can also prove quite costly. It resists evil in order to bring men true good. If we become one with Christ, we learn to recognise Him precisely in the suffering, in the poor, in the little ones of this world; then we become people who serve, who recognise our brothers and sisters in Him, and in them, we encounter Him.”

God is Love not Love is God

 Sixth Sunday of Easter Year B

Love must certainly be the most used, and yet most misunderstood and abused word in our vocabulary. The word 'love' is so sentimentalised in pop culture and flippantly used to apply to a myriad of things from the most trivial (like “I love ice cream”) to the most profound (“I love God”), that it has devolved into something that sounds bland or fuzzy. It doesn’t help when we attempt to unpack the word in the context of today’s readings. It would almost be like teaching a foreign language to explain what Saint John meant in his gospel and epistle. And this is precisely what we must do.

The word that Saint John uses is the Greek 'agapè': a word that has never been anglicised and from which no English word is derived. In Latin, it has been translated as “caritas” which has created its own set of problems, especially when we attempt to translate that into English - “charity” - a word which in common parlance suggests acts of mercy towards the poor. Although our English word “love” seems to encapsulate the concept of “agape,” it fails to distinguish the nuanced differences conveyed by other Greek words which could similarly be translated as “love” - eros (erotic love), philia (friendship) and storge (affection).

As much as you would have heard it explained from the pulpit that “agape” refers to the lofty selfless and sacrificial love of God, in the secular Greek of the day, the verb “agape” was used in a quite unimpressive and banal fashion: it simply meant 'to like'; almost like the clicks you get on your social media postings. The New Testament writers, Saint Paul as well as Saint John, seem to have deliberately adopted this rather neutral word. It is used, as they presumably knew, in the Greek version of the Old Testament, for the kind of love which cares for others, to the extent of being ready to make sacrifices for their sake. Paul and John take the word up to designate the new way of loving which our Lord inaugurated.

How do we make this impossible leap? How can we connect the act of liking something so banal as ice cream to loving others as God has loved us? Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI in his encyclical Deus caritas est, beautifully helps us to see the link between the natural loves which mark our daily human experiences and the unique self-less love which our Lord speaks of. The Pope warns that we should not be setting the different kinds of love (towards family, a lover, things, God etc) against each other. 'Were this antithesis to be taken to extremes', the Pope writes, 'the essence of Christianity would be detached from the vital relations fundamental to human existence, and would become a world apart, admirable perhaps, but decisively cut off from the complex fabric of human life'. In other words, such detachment could make Christian love untenable and impossible, our Christian way of life would be totally cut off from everything which makes us human. The Pope insists that there is an 'intrinsic link' between 'the reality of human love' and 'the love which God mysteriously and gratuitously offers to us'.

The Pope invites us to take a more positive view of human love, even erotic love. He acknowledges that though there is nothing intrinsically wrong about erotic love or friendship, they are susceptible to distortions. And so, the only way in which these human expressions of love can be perfected and purified is to unite these human experiences of love with the higher calling, to love as our Lord did. And how did He love us - by laying down His life for us. In the words of our Lord, “A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends.” We see how our Lord marries two very different concepts of love - the love between friends with the selfless love of one who is willing to sacrifice everything, including one’s life, for the other.

In other words, in obeying our Lord’s commandments to remain in His love and to take up the new standard of loving as He did, we do not need to abandon all other forms of loving - whether it be affection for another, or love between spouses and lovers, or that of friendship. A Christian does not cease to love his or her family, lover, friends, pets, and even hobbies because he chooses to love as Christ did. To love my spouse, my children, my parents, my friend or even my pet, need not be something which is in opposition to loving God, unless loving any of these persons and objects detracts from the latter. Likewise loving God would not prevent us or lessen our ability to love our spouse, our children, our parents, our friends but in fact, purifies our love and brings it to perfection. In fact, the goal of all these different expressions of human love is to find their perfection in the standard which our Lord sets: “love one another, as I have loved you.” Christ’s new standard of love does not extinguish all other forms of love, but perfects them.

Saint John not only has our Lord set out a new standard of love in the gospel, he also provides love with a new definition: “God is Love.” But it is important that we do not confuse two axioms: “God is love” and “love is God.” They are not identical nor interchangeable. To claim that “love is God” is to reduce God to some impersonal principle and in fact, sees no need for God. People who say that “love is God,” are saying that as long as I am loving, caring and compassionate to others, there is no need for God, no need for a religion, because my personal love suffices. But this is precisely what St John rejects in the second reading: “God’s love for us was revealed when God sent into the world his only Son so that we could have life through him; this is the love I mean: not our love for God, but God’s love for us when he sent his Son to be the sacrifice that takes our sins away.” God is not measured by our love. It is the reverse; our love is to be measured by God. God’s love is the gold standard for loving, “love one another, as I have loved you.” He loved us to the end. He loved us to the extent of laying down His life for us. He loved us to the point of pouring out His entire life for us and for our salvation, holding nothing back.

The phrase “God is love” is used one more time in 1 John 4. It puts to rest the false notion that God loves no one because He is only an impersonal concept but is the love in everyone. But Saint John asserts: “We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this, love is perfected with us, so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment….” (vv. 16–17). Modern folks tend to use the empty slogan “love wins” to argue that their inclusive, non-judgmental ways are superior to the moral standards of traditional religion. But the truth is that, love can never win when that love seeks to exclude God, seeks to exclude His commandments, seeks to exclude His standards, because the moment we choose to exclude God, we exclude love because God is Love. A Godless life ultimately descends into a loveless life.

The Sower sows Himself

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Today, many preachers may choose to skip the homily. The congregation has already been treated to a lengthy gospel passage and our Lord seems to have done an excellent job in unpacking His own teaching, which leaves little room, for us mortal preachers to expand upon it. Furthermore, it’s the familiar parable of the Sower. We would be hard pressed to find someone in the audience who has never heard of this parable or who is unfamiliar with its meaning. Here are the essential elements – the sower, the seeds and the four types of soil.

The problem with our text and most other translations is that, the word “seed” does not appear anywhere in the original Greek version. It is simply added in by the translators. In the Greek version, Jesus simply says that a sower went out to sow, and “some” fell to the ground. In other words, Jesus is saying the sower is definitely sowing, but what exactly he is sowing is left vague. Translators only assume that it is seed, since that is what you would typically expect sowers to sow. That isn’t an illogical assumption. By filling in the blanks, the translators do not allow the reader the luxury of figuring out exactly what mysterious thing the sower is doing.

So, what is this “some” or “seed”? In verse 19, our Lord reveals that the seed is the “word of the kingdom.” It is the “Logos.” Remember that the “word” or the “Logos” is not a thing. It is a person - Jesus Christ is the Word Incarnate. If the “Sower” is Christ, and the seed-word is Christ, then the “Sower” is sowing Himself.

Pope Benedict said that this parable is a sort of autobiography of Jesus; it was how He was already living out His mission and ministry. Christ gives Himself freely and abundantly to all, even in the face of rejection and indifference. He is the seed that falls into the ground and dies. Rejected by so many, He finally emerges victorious over death and His enemies, and His victory bears fruit aplenty in the Church. And the amazing thing is that He accomplished all of this whilst respecting the freedom of His audience. The parable is a story of Jesus!

Pope Benedict writes, "God does not force us to believe in Him, but draws us to Himself through the truth and goodness of His incarnate Son. Love, in fact, always respects freedom." Freedom is the basis of our relationship with God. Freedom allows us to make a response to the gift of the Word, to choose between accepting the Word or rejecting it. Human freedom helps us to understand the different kinds of responses to Christ and His message. This is what we see in the parable. We have the well-trodden path of the hardened heart; the rocky ground of those who look for instant gratification but are weak in making commitments; then, there's the thorny ground where the heart is overtaken by too many other distractions. All of these are definite blocks to the reception of the gospel and yet, the sower is not daunted and he continues to sow without hesitation or regret.

In the parable, the sower is throwing seed everywhere, even in places where the seed has little chance to grow. The good news is that the Word, Jesus Christ Himself, is offered to all and sundry, the good and the bad, the excited and the indifferent, the pious and the impious. It’s a beautiful reminder that Christ never tires and He never gives up sowing in our lives even though He has to contend with the garden of our hearts overgrown with debris, weeds, thorns and rocks. He patiently waits for our response.

How can we respond? How can we make a deeper commitment to His Word so that it can yield a good harvest? “Seeing” Christ in His sacraments and “hearing” His Word are important. But we can’t, and we shouldn’t stop here. So many see but do not perceive, and others listen but do not hear. Seeing and hearing Christ are truly laudable but they are not enough to guarantee lasting happiness. Seeing and hearing must lead to following. This is because the Word is not just a text to be studied, but a person to be imitated and followed. Christians are not People of the Book, as Muslims would call us, or as Protestants would profess. We are People of the Living, Dynamic Word who became flesh, and dwelt among us and left us a lasting sign and memorial of His presence, in the Blessed Sacrament. For only a heartfelt response to this Living Word, to allow His message to take root and transform us, can ultimately yield a bountiful harvest.