Guess how much?

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of my favourite comedians is Hong Kong born and now USA based Jimmy O. Yang. One of his most poignant jokes which had me rolling in laughter while nodding my head in agreement is his observation that while most people in the West brag about how much money they spend, Asians love to brag about how little they pay. This best describes my usual exchanges with Fr Bona on my latest acquisition on the Shopee app. After showing him the item I will gleefully ask, “Guess how much?” The cheaper the item, the bigger the boast. Fr Bona will then roll his eyes in disgust because of his disdain for my predilection for cheap bargains.

If what Jimmy Yang says is true about Asians, most would be rolling their eyes in disbelief after hearing the two parables of our Lord. Instead of paying below market prices, the protagonists of the two tales make the seemingly imprudent decision of paying not just “full price,” but over and above their actual value. The protagonists in both stories are willing to part with their entire wealth, possession and everything they own just to buy an item without consulting an expert assessor to determine if this is a good “buy.”

Some measure of risk is to be expected in any endeavour, but this seemingly impulsive decision and action seems altogether preposterous in the eyes of any right-minded person, more so if you happen to be Asian. But both these imaginary characters are convinced that the value of the item which they desire and seek to possess far exceeds anything else which they treasure and possess. Their decision is not governed by the common sense question, “how much am I willing to give up?” The only question which matters is “how much more do I gain?” The point which our Lord is trying to make is that the kingdom of God is so valuable that losing everything on earth, but getting the kingdom, is a happy trade-off.

The apostle Paul expresses this very idea in Philippians 3:7-8, ‘Whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.”

The point here is not that you have to buy the kingdom or barter for the kingdom or negotiate for the kingdom or work hard to earn entry into the kingdom. The kingdom of heaven which is Matthew’s Jewish euphemism to express the same idea found in the other synoptic gospels - the Kingdom of God - is received without pay. The Kingdom of God is not a geographical location or domain. It primarily speaks of God’s reign or rule, not just in the universe but more importantly in your hearts, the place where man expresses his freedom. For God to reign in our hearts, it is something which we must assent to. He cannot and will not compel us and that is why it is hidden until discovered through our repentance and conversion.

And so, it is priceless in that the kingdom is not for sale. No amount of wealth or sacrifice would be enough to buy it. So the point here is that the people who wish to receive the kingdom, should treasure it more than everything else. Yes, you don’t buy it. You can’t buy salvation. You get it freely because you want it more than you want anything else. In other words, there is a condition for having the kingdom—for having God as king and sovereign ruler of your entire life —but the condition is not wealth or power or intelligence or eminence or the amount of good works and devotion you rock up. The condition is that you prize the kingdom more than you prize anything else. For God to rule in your life, you must desire it above all else! You must hand over the keys to your heart. The point of selling everything in this parable is simply to show where your heart is. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).

This is the reason why every Christian, just like Solomon in the first reading, must desire and seek out the wisdom necessary to discern between what is good and evil, what is of value and what is valueless, what is authentic and what is false. Discernment is the ability to see beneath the surface. It helps you spot the difference between a pretty lie and a hard truth. Without discernment, we would always find it impossible to discover the hidden treasure and pearl of great value which is the Kingdom of God. Instead we will be desiring for all the things that distract and lead us away from that goal.

But discernment is just the first step. This must ultimately lead to action. Knowing what is right is not enough. You must also obey and do what is right. What good is it to know the truth if we fail to act accordingly? This was the problem of Solomon. He was praised and admired for his God-given wisdom, even by unbelievers. But not putting that wisdom into practice led to his eventual downfall and his wayward life. Solomon is biblical proof that even true discernment can give way to a destructive self-delusion. Disobedience inevitably undermines discernment. The only way to guard against that is to be doers of the Word and not hearers only. Notice that the two protagonists in our Lord’s parable did not just give a correct appraisal of the value of the objects they discovered. They immediately took action by selling everything they owned to buy those prized objects. There is no use in admiring something from a distance but then hesitate to take action because the decision appears too costly.

Both discernment and acting upon it are essential. But we must do so cheerfully and not regard it as overly burdensome. Notice that the man in the first parable was not driven by cold duty. We are told by the Lord that he “goes off happy!” He happily disposes all his wealth to buy the field where the treasure is buried. He did not complain about having to give up everything to acquire that field. All that he did, he did so willingly and joyfully. That is how we welcome God’s Kingdom, His rule into our lives. The only way we can surrender to Him is to do it joyfully and willingly after having recognise that He is the greatest and most prized treasure in our lives. We do it because we want to and not because we were forced to. That’s the big difference. The loss of earthly things for the sake of the kingdom is not sad. It is not sad when we have Jesus. It is a blessed privilege. Why were the martyrs in the past willing to give up everything including life itself? Here is the answer: For the joy of it.

We live in a world that has been inundated and saturated with information, technology, science and the wonders of AI. But there is something which the world’s most advanced AI cannot do. It cannot help us discern what is of value and what is not. Only our Father in heaven can reveal such mysteries to us who are mere children. Discernment, therefore, requires docility instead of stubbornness, obedience instead of reckless disobedience, self-conquest instead of prideful self-determination. In a world of competing allures and possibilities, may we discern wisely and recognise the immense worth of the Kingdom of Heaven and joyfully take decisive action, gladly letting go of lesser things to secure it. Once our hearts are captured, we will not begrudgingly give up everything but instead do it happily because we know that it is a happy trade. Let us share the gospel of Christ while asking: “Guess how much?” And then enthusiastically tell our hearer, “It’s priceless but free!”

The Trinity be with you all

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity Year A

The Most Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is central to the Mass. The Mass begins, ends, and is saturated with invocations to the Trinity. We sign ourselves at the beginning of every Mass in the name of the Holy Trinity and then receive a Trinitarian blessing at the end. Both the Gloria and the Creed are shaped and structured with the Holy Trinity at its foundation. In the Eucharistic prayer, the heart of the Mass, the priest (acting in persona Christi) prays to the Father through the Son, asking for the Holy Spirit to consecrate the gifts and then concludes with the doxology which makes this profound Trinitarian statement: “Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit..."

But today, I would like to draw your attention to one of the greetings by the priest at the beginning of Mass. People often ask me, “Why start the Mass with a ritual greeting? This sounds so stiff-and-official-like. Why not just start with a warm and friendly greeting like ‘Good Morning’?” Good question. This would, indeed, be the right approach if the Mass were nothing more than a meal with family and friends, but, in reality, it is infinitely more than that. The Mass is not an informal gathering of a group of people. It is a sacred moment before God. This is why the Missal gives the formal, stylised greeting that the priest is expected to use. If we believe the Mass is a representation of the Holy Sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross, you wouldn’t appreciate being greeted with a happy chirpy “Good Morning” as you contemplate our Lord’s suffering and death on Good Friday, would you? Since it is a sacred moment before God, then the formality and solemnity of the words should be befitting God, for the Eucharist is an anticipation of the heavenly wedding banquet which God Himself prepares for us.

As far as liturgical greetings are concerned, there are three options available. Each option highlights the special nature of our gathering for Mass. Today, I would like to consider the first option, the Trinitarian option. The priest utters these words immediately after the sign of the cross. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” As warm and as friendly as a “good morning” greeting sounds to common folks, the liturgical greeting is far more superior. It all makes absolute theological sense. We come for Mass not because of the priest (although truth be told, many people choose their priests. Fr Friendly Smile is always preferred over Fr Prune Face). We come for Mass not just to see each other. We come for Mass because of God. And it is only proper that the priest, the minister of God, should greet us in the name of God, the Most Holy Trinity. The Most Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and not Fr Michael who is now inviting us to enter into their intimate communion, the basis and foundation of all other communions.

This formula is based on the last words of Saint Paul’s second letter to the Church of Corinth (2 Cor 13:13) which we had just heard. It expresses the Church’s belief in one God who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It briefly sums up the very essence of the Christian life. This is a good reminder that the Trinity is not primarily the subject of intellectual discourse. No, the Most Holy Trinity is first and foremost, the object of our worship, of our liturgy. To grasp the Mystery of the Most Holy Trinity, we must do so on our knees, in humble adoration and worship. In this greeting, Saint Paul does not follow the order in which we normally name the divine persons of the Trinity. Rather, he first mentions Jesus, who is the Son before he names God the Father. This very unusual word order, unlocks for us the theology of Saint Paul about how we are saved. Paul begins the greeting by saying “the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ”. He uses the word “grace” to express the salvation event. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, our sins are forgiven and we are reconciled with God. Thus, it is through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ that we come to the Father. As Jesus Himself said, “No one comes to the Father except through me” (Jn 14:6).

Paul ends the greeting with the words “the communion of the Holy Spirit”. In the translation of the third edition of the English translation of the Roman Missal, “communion” replaces the word “fellowship”. Both words translate from the Greek word “koinonia.” It’s good to unpack this word because the word “fellowship” and the word “communion” have taken on very different meanings from the original “koinonia.” When we think “fellowship”, we often think of the potluck meals that conclude our gatherings and when we use the word “communion” it is almost always a reference to the reception of Holy Communion during Mass. But the original Greek word “koinonia” goes beyond such shallow and trivial meanings.

First of all, the expression “the communion of the Holy Spirit” reminds us of the intimate relationship that every believer has with the Holy Spirit. The Risen Lord pours out His Holy Spirit on each of us. It is because of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us, that we can call Jesus, “Lord” (I Cor 12:4); and it is in the power of the Holy Spirit that we call God “Father” (Gal 4:6).

Second, the expression “the communion of the Holy Spirit” also reminds us that the Holy Spirit gives to each of us different gifts for a purpose. Using these different gifts, we are to work together for the good of the whole Church and thus form one body, one communion of faith (I Cor 12:7; Gal 5:22).

Something else needs to be said about the syntax of this greeting. In the original Greek found in Saint Paul’s letter, the word “be” is missing, so it can be understood both as a statement of fact and as a wish. But now with our liturgy adding the verb “be” in the greeting, the Church is confident in declaring her faith in the Trinity – it is not just a wish but a statement of fact, a statement of faith. She is confident of the love of the Father who has called together His children into His Church and who has sent His Son so that by His sacrifice we may be gathered into a communion whose inspirer and unifier is the Holy Spirit. This is what happens at every Mass. In the liturgy, all three persons of the Trinity are taking us up into their life as the one God and forming us here on earth as the Body of Christ.

So, the next time you are tempted to walk up to the priest and ask him to change the wording of the Mass, so that it would sound less off-putting, less formal, more familiar and affable, remember this simple truth – the Mass is not about you, it’s not even about the priest, it is first and foremost about God, the Most Holy Trinity, whom we worship, who reveals Himself to us and the very same Holy Trinity who now invites us, unworthy though we are, into the community of Persons, where each is distinct and yet perfectly united. “Unity in diversity” is not just a pretty slogan. It is already a reality in the three divine persons whom we call God. The deeper we grow in union with God, the deeper and more authentic would our communion be. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

God first, Others second, me last

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Price for Lasting Peace

Second Sunday of Advent Year A

Recently, New Yorkers elected a man as their new mayor, which many hail as their Saviour whilst others accuse as being a communist. Some see him as a future hope for the city while others view him as one of the four apocalyptic horsemen that would bring about its destruction. What endeared him to most of his supporters was his primary campaign promise to dish out “free stuff.” Free bus. Free housing. Free groceries. Now, who wouldn’t like “free stuff”?

Have you ever longed for a place where everything was “free”? A place where people worked together, shared together and genuinely cared for one another? A place where poverty, conflict, rivalry, violence is absent or abolished entirely? Despite best intentions and best efforts, the lesson we learn from the neo-socialists, communists, democratic governments is that mankind is unable to engineer the perfect society. Why have countless experiments failed or have been unsuccessful? The answer can be found in the very name given to these ventures. It’s the word “utopia.” Utopia, a Greek word, literally means “no place.” The reality is that there never has been a place on earth where human beings created a perfect peaceful community. And often it has been the very people who claim to create an earthly paradise that have caused the most devastating brokenness. The good news is that scripture shows us how peace and perfection will arrive on earth.

In the first reading, the Prophet Isaiah, our principal prophet for this season of Advent, shares with us a prophetic dream of a future society, a perfect paradise. All hatreds and hostilities have disappeared, those who hated and killed their victims are now sitting side by side, the lion and the leopard lie down with the lamb and the gazelle, the child plays with the poisonous snake. Nobody is doing any harm, the poor and the weak are no longer oppressed by injustice, all seems lovey-dovey. It is paradise restored. Sounds like Utopia, right? Problem is that this ‘paradise’, this ‘utopia,’ exists in no place. But will this ever take place? Well, the Prophet Isaiah provides the clue – he points to the shoot that will spring from the stock of Jesse.

The stock or the stump of Jesse actually refers to another failed project, the broken line of the dynasty of David. The dynasty of King David had been cut down like a tree by the Babylonians in 587 B.C. when the city of Jerusalem and the Kingdom of Judah was devastated and the ruling class led into exile. The people were shocked to realise that the dynasty was not really eternal. But had not God assured David: “your house and your kingdom shall endure forever before me; your throne shall stand firm forever” (2 Sam 7:16). Isaiah knew that God must always be true to His word; hence the dynasty in some way will revive. The spirit of the Lord will rest upon the stump and the roots of Jesse, and the people of God will bloom again. New life can emerge from what is perceived as a dead tree. But the solution would not be a human one. It is through God’s direct intervention that the dead tree stump would spring to life again. We need a Saviour, not just a charismatic political leader. Christ would be the answer.

The second reading also presents us with a similarly utopian vision, now of the Church. But the realities that plagued the Church during the time of St Paul’s writings were in fact dystopian. There was building tension between two group of Christians within the community. The smaller group, described as the “weak,” liked very much a traditional form of religion, prayed a lot and mortified themselves, and observed a lot of prescriptions. The other group, named the “strong,” did not pay attention to such “small” things, which they considered trivial, and held that one did not have to follow the old law; the only necessary thing was to be faithful to Christ. The two groups abused each other: the weak “passed judgment” on the strong ones, calling them unfaithful and these, in their turn “had contempt” for the weak ones, classifying them as traditionalists and without understanding. Sounds familiar?

St Paul recommends to all to be charitable, to show love and reciprocal respect. He did not need to reinvent the wheel and come up with a new blueprint for this community. Christ is THE BLUEPRINT! Our Lord, who did not seek to please Himself but placed Himself at the service of others, is the model par excellence for the qualities needed for community living. What He gives to us is “free”, salvation is a free gift because it is not something we can ever earn. But it comes at the greatest cost to Himself – He paid the cost through His own life. Harmony in the community could only be assured by the member’s commitment to Christ. St Paul challenged the “strong” as well as the “weak” to “treat each other in the same friendly way as Christ treated” them. Rather than engage in mutual criticism that would only engender hostility, they should learn “to be tolerant with each other, following the example of Christ Jesus, so that united in mind and voice (they) may give glory to God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Finally, we come to the gospel and discover the key to Peace. It is to be found in the keynote message of the gospel and that of Advent - repentance. In today’s gospel, we hear the story of how St John the Baptist preached this message, “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is close at hand.” What does the word Repentance mean? In Hebrew, the word for conversion (shubh) indicates that one has taken a wrong path, and once he has become aware of his detour, the individual returns to the right path in order to return to God. So too the Greek word, metanoia involves not just a static remorse but a dynamic and determined about-face, a positive commitment to a new way of life. Significantly, conversion is not a purely human decision or endeavour. Rather, conversion is a human response to the prior initiative of God.

Repentance means turning to Christ. Repentance means putting on Christ and becoming Christ. The word “Christian” means “of Christ” or a “little Christ.” It means putting God in the first place in our lives and making sure that everything else finds its rightful places in our lives under God. Repentance means letting go of our own will, in order to follow the things that God wills for us. It means turning away from sin and all rebellion against God, in order to be obedient to God and to follow Him in all that He wants from us. Repentance means owning up to our sin, our human frailties, our fears, our inner hurts and entrusting all these to God’s mercy and compassion. Repentance means knowing our need of God. In turning our lives around, we come to recognise that our self-sufficiency is inadequate and that we need to cooperate with God in our own salvation. Repentance therefore is not a one-time thing. It is a process that goes on for a lifetime. Little by little we orientate ourselves ever more perfectly in God’s love.

So as we continue our journey to Christmas, we need to repent of our comfortableness with sin. This is the only way our society and the Church can be transformed. Various utopian experiments that have sought to improve mankind and create a peaceable environment have failed. Lasting peace would not be found in any peace treaty or socio-political or economic reform. This is because, if God is not part of the equation, Utopia would remain a dream. But God’s effort to bring peace will not fail. It will succeed—through Jesus Christ and the establishment of God’s Kingdom. The Kingdom is both “free” and costly. Free because our Lord offers it to us freely. Costly because He has already paid the price for this gift. So, prepare the Way of the Lord!

Finding Power in Powerlessness

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We need Disciples, not Volunteers

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Drama of our Salvation

Good Friday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Towel and the Cross

Maundy Thursday

Some people are so good at talking big but fall short in delivery. When push comes to shove, they will easily bend and break. This is what we witness in the gospel. Our first Pope whom the Lord Himself declares as a rock-hard foundation to His church, changes his position not because of some profound enlightenment but melts under pressure. One can’t help but laugh at the 180 degrees turn of St Peter, from refusing to accept the Lord’s offer to wash his feet, to clamouring for a full-body bath!

First, he starts with this: “You shall never wash my feet.” We may even suspect that his refusal was just fake shocked indignation at best, or false humility at worst. And as for the turnaround, doesn’t it seem to be some form of histrionic over-exaggeration on his part? “Not only my feet, but my hands and my head as well!” In both instances, St Peter had misunderstood our Lord’s intention and the significance of His action. And in both instances, his incomprehension and misstep had given our Lord an opportunity to make a teaching point.

Let us look at the first response given by our Lord to Peter when he refused to allow his feet to be washed: “If I do not wash you, you can have nothing in common with me.” A superficial reading of this statement may lead us to conclude that our Lord was just asking Peter and all of us to imitate His humility in serving others. This may be the message at the end of the passage, where our Lord says: “If I, then, the Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you should wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example so that you may copy what I have done to you.” But the words of our Lord in His response to Peter’s refusal to have his feet washed, goes further than that.

What is this thing which makes us “in common” with our Lord? In other words, what does it mean to have “fellowship” with Him? It is clear that it cannot just mean menial service, but rather the sacrifice of our Lord on the cross. This statement actually highlights the relationship between the foot-washing and the cross. The foot-washing signifies our Lord’s loving action and sacrifice on the cross. If foot-washing merely cleans the feet of the guest who has come in from the dusty streets, our Lord’s sacrifice on the cross will accomplish the cleansing of our sins which we have accumulated from our sojourn in this sin-infested world. Peter must yield to our Lord’s loving action in order to share in His life, which the cross makes possible.

The foot-washing may also be a deliberate echo of the ritual of ablutions, washing of hands and feet, done by the priests of the Old Covenant, before they performed worship and offered sacrifices in the Temple. This may explain Peter’s further request to have both his feet and head washed by the Lord. Without him knowing it, he may have inadvertently referred to his own ordination as a priest of the New Covenant. It is fitting that the washing of feet occurs while the Apostles are entrusted with the Eucharist. No priesthood, no Eucharist - it’s as simple as that.

“No one who has taken a bath needs washing, he is clean all over.” Our Lord was not just making a common-sense statement that those who are clean have no need for further cleansing, but an allusion to the Sacraments which leave an indelible mark on their recipients, two in particular - baptism (confirmation) and Holy Orders. Our Lord’s words resonate with two popular Catholic axioms: “Once a Catholic, always a Catholic” and “once a priest, always a priest.” There is no need for re-baptism or re-ordination even if the person had lapsed. What is needed is confession.

This second set of words also points to the efficacy and sufficiency of what our Lord did on the cross. Christ’s bloody sacrifice on Calvary took place once and for all, and it will never be repeated, it need not be repeated because it cannot be repeated. To repeat His sacrifice would be to imply that the original offering was defective or insufficient, like the animal sacrifices of the Old Testament that could never take away sins. Jesus’ offering was perfect, efficacious, and eternal.

The Holy Mass is a participation in this one perfect offering of Christ on the cross. It is the re-presentation of the sacrifice on the cross; here “re-presentation” does not mean a mere commemoration or a fresh new sacrifice each time the Mass is celebrated, but making “present” the one sacrifice at Calvary. The Risen Christ becomes present on the altar and offers Himself to God as a living sacrifice. Like the Mass, Christ words at the Last Supper are words of sacrifice, “This is my body . . . this is my blood . . . given up for you.” So, the Mass is not repeating the murder of Jesus, but is taking part in what never ends: the offering of Christ to the Father for our sake (Heb 7:25, 9:24). After all, if Calvary didn’t get the job done, then the Mass won’t help. It is precisely because the death of Christ was sufficient that the Mass is celebrated. It does not add to or take away, from the work of Christ—it IS the work of Christ.

When the Lord tells us: “I have given you an example so that you may copy what I have done to you,” it is not just the ritual of foot-washing that He is asking us to imitate. Our Lord is most certainly pointing to His work of salvation on the cross which He offers to us as a gift through the Sacraments. Some people continue to resist Christ because they do not consider themselves sinful enough to require Him to wash them in Baptism or the Sacrament of Penance. Others have the opposite problem: they stay away because they are too ashamed of their lives or secret sins. To both, our Lord and Master gently but firmly speaks these words as He did to Peter: “If I do not wash you, you can have nothing in common with me.”

The Once-and-for-all Atoning Sacrifice

Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

The holiest day in the Jewish calendar was marked by a unique ceremony that had to be repeated every year, at least while the Temple was still standing. This is Yom Kippur or the Day of Atonement. Although no living person in this day and age has ever witnessed this elaborate ceremony, we have the benefit of its detailed records in the Bible, in the Book of Leviticus, a book of rites and ceremonies.

The book of Leviticus says that the High Priest on this most holy day was to enter into the Holy of Holies, which is the inner sanctum of the Temple, the place where the tabernacle was kept. By the time of our Lord, the tabernacle was missing which meant that the Holy of Holies was an empty shell. But that was no excuse to stop this ceremony. The High Priest’s primary responsibility was to offer the sacrifice on Yom Kippur for the forgiveness of the sins of all the Israelites. On the Day of Atonement, the priest would be stripped of his clothes, wash his hands and his feet, and then immerse himself in water and dried off and put on white garments, similar to the white alb the priest and altar servers put on before they enter the Sanctuary. Then the High Priest would offer a bullock, a young bull for his own sin offering as our second reading reminds us, and fill the Holy of Holies with incense; thus, he would be considered purified and ready to offer the sacrifice for the people.

The people would then bring to the High Priest two goats, one goat would be offered to the Lord and the other would become the scapegoat. After the first goat was sacrificed to the Lord as a sign of propitiation (communion with God), the High Priest would take the live scapegoat and lay his hands upon the scapegoat and confess all the sins of the Israelites onto it. This goat represented the act of expiation (the purification from sin). Then a Gentile, because no Jew would want to go near the goat that had all their sins, would tie a scarlet red ribbon around its neck, lead the scapegoat out into the desert, and push it over the cliff. So, when the scapegoat would be pushed over the cliff and die, the Israelites knew all their sins were forgiven.

And here is where the scapegoat gets fascinating. The way the Israelites would know their sins were forgiven is because the High Priest would tie another crimson red ribbon on the door of the Sanctuary. According to the rabbis whose teachings are recorded in the Mishnah, the oral tradition, every year whenever the scapegoat was pushed over the cliff that crimson red ribbon tied on the door to the Sanctuary would miraculously turn white, that way all the Israelites would know their sins are forgiven. And what is even more amazing is that according to the same Jewish tradition, the miracle of the red ribbon turning white happened every year until the year 30, the time of Jesus Christ upon the earth. Though this remained a mystery among the Jews, it is clear to us Christians. We all know what happened on Good Friday – the Lamb of God took away the sins of the world on the cross.

The Cross is the final sacrifice for the forgiveness of sins of all people. Jesus Christ replaces the scapegoat that was offered by the high priest at the Holy of Holies in the Temple at Yom Kippur; He is the sacrificial lamb, who gave Himself up for our eternal life. He, who was without sin, took on the sins of world by His Passion. But He is also the other goat who is sacrificed in the Temple to bring about our complete reconciliation with God, something which all the bloody sacrifices of the Temple could never accomplish. His sacrifice both expiates and propitiates – purifies us from sin and unites us with God. Like all the Jewish High Priests, Jesus too was stripped of His clothes before He was crucified, therefore Jesus is the Great High Priest who offered Himself as the final sacrifice for the forgiveness of sins.

Now, all this alignment between the ritual of the old covenant and what took place on the cross at Calvary on Good Friday would certainly help us to understand what is written by the author of Hebrews in the second reading. But what about the story of the two widows in the first reading and the gospel? Both are certainly models of unrivalled generosity as both gave up their last resort of survival, the first for a stranger and the second for God. In a way, both widows epitomise the two-fold great commandment of love owed toward God and neighbour, which we heard last week. Both women are actually typological figures pointing to another who gave up much more - the One who sacrificed His life for us in order to atone for our sins and reconcile us to the Father. The two small coins of the second widow in our gospel story perhaps symbolises the two-fold action of our Lord’s sacrifice - expiation and propitiation.

It is through this lens that we must now consider the story of the widow’s mite. The main point of the story of the widow’s mite is not what most people have assumed. Have you ever noticed our Lord does not praise the widow for her offering? He does not even encourage us to duplicate her behaviour. He simply states what she did as a fact. The widow’s sacrificial offering points us toward the life of sacrifice Jesus modelled for us. Our Lord offered Himself willingly. He spared nothing, and it cost Him everything. Unlike the animals whose lives were taken against their will, our Lord went to His death willingly for our sake. If you think the widow’s actions as astoundingly generous, it still comes nowhere close to what the Lord has done for us. His generosity knows no bounds.

By shining a light on the unnamed widow’s generosity, our Lord reminds us that what is most important to God is not the quantity of the gift, but the generosity of the one doing the giving. The value of a gift depends not on its absolute worth, but in the love with which it is given. This woman of God gave an offering that resounded louder than the heaps of coins dropped into the treasury by others. Nothing showy. No virtue signalling. In fact, her actions may actually earn her ridicule and derision. But her love for her Lord who had given so much to her blinded her to the burning and judging gaze of others.

Many of us would be guilty of looking at what we possess and be conditioned by a mentality of scarcity, believing that it is never enough for us to share with others. In contrast, a heart of abundance, just like the two widows, looks at the One who provides what we have in our hands. As we recognise our God as the one who provides everything— life, possessions, time, energy, love, and all of who we are—we will grow in our trust of Almighty God’s abundance.

At every Mass, we are brought before the One who sacrificed everything for us, who took our sins upon Himself although He had none, who drew the ire and hatred of the world so that we may be freed from shame and guilt. But unlike the sacrifice of Yom Kippur which had to be repeated to no avail, the Holy Mass is the ‘once for all,’ perfect sacrifice of Calvary, which is presented on heaven’s altar for all eternity. It is not a ‘repeat performance.’ There is only one sacrifice; it is perpetual and eternal, and so it needs never be repeated. And it is by this once for all sacrifice that heaven is finally opened, the gates of God’s abundant graces finally poured upon us, and our reconciliation with Him is finally sealed “once and for all.”

There can be no gospel without the cross

Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shepherd's work is never done

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Recently I came across this ditty which is made up of stanzas alternating between the voice of the shepherds and that of their sheep. It is interesting to see how the two perspectives are at variance. Here’s a sampling of the first two stanzas:

Shepherds:
Morning to dusk our watch we keep, tending our flock of precious sheep, near and far they love to roam, then one by one we count them home.

Sheep:
A shepherd’s work is never done while naughty sheep are having fun, high and low we love to roam, then one by one we come back home.

Although there is a tinge of realisation by the sheep (and perhaps subdued appreciation) of the thankless never-ending work of the shepherds, and the tale seems to end on a happy note when the sheep finally decide to return home, the naughty sheep persist in “having fun” and roaming “high and low” with little regard for the former’s sweat and toil. But what really surprises me about this song is the utter joy of the shepherds who seem to cherish and enjoy their work, without minding the long hours nor the delinquent wards under their care. No complaints, just pure joy which springs from the authentic love they have for their sheep.

Even as I read the lyrics of this song with amusement, there is a sense of guilt. I’m nothing like the shepherds in this song, what more the Good Shepherd, our Lord Jesus Christ, whom I am called to emulate. I want to be honest, the line which says “a shepherd’s work is never done,” most closely resonates with me but it sounds more like a complaint rather than a statement of fact: “no rest for the wicked.” Sometimes, attending to the needs of the congregation can be so tiring, especially those requiring high maintenance. And being an introvert, my social battery and energy levels dissipate at such speed whenever I am around people, which is to say most of the time. God knows that I need space and time for myself to recuperate and rejuvenate.

But today’s readings seem to throw another wrench into my plans to have a break and some down-time. From the first reading to the gospel, we see how our Lord doesn’t let up in caring and shepherding those in need. It is not that the human Jesus never tires. Just like the Energiser Bunny, even our Lord, fully human as well as divine, would suffer the fatigue that comes to all of us. But does He walk away? Does He give excuses by citing that He needs time to Himself? Does He abdicate His responsibility and push the load of His work to others? The answer is simply “no.”

You all may remember that the Fourth Sunday of Easter in each lectionary cycle is known as Good Shepherd Sunday. But today is an opportunity for all of us (and I’m including myself in this equation) to revisit the theme of the Good Shepherd and what it means to be sheep as well as shepherd in imitation of our Lord. These readings and the underlying message aren’t just aimed at us priests and lay leaders. All of us Christians are the sheep, and Jesus is the Shepherd. But you too are called to be shepherds in different ways - parents, leaders, service providers, teachers, employers, managers, just to name a few. Before we can be good shepherds who lead the way for others, we must first be sheep who know and follow the Shepherd’s voice ourselves.

From the first reading, we are assured that God, the good shepherd, will never abandon His people. In the face of human shepherds who had forsaken their flock, the prophecy of Jeremiah foretells a time when the Lord Himself will shepherd His people through His own shepherd, a king in the line of David. The promise shimmers between God as Himself the shepherd and His representative being the shepherd. We finally see the fulfilment of this prophecy in the person of Jesus Christ, the Anointed One of God who is God Himself.

Too often have we suffered abandonment in our lives at the hands of those whom we have trusted, those who have sworn to have our backs, to care for us, to protect us. And yet so many of us have known the pain of betrayal in the form of an absent parent, an absent mentor, an absent friend, or even an absent pastor. But here is One who will never abandon us no matter what the cost may be. He now calls us to follow Him and imitate Him in being vigilant at our station, to never abandon our post or abdicate our duty. We are called to be faithful shepherds just like Him, to be present, courageous and steadfast in guarding those placed under our care.

The second characteristic of the good shepherd comes from the second reading - we are called to be unifiers. In a hyper-polarised society, where we are often forced to swear allegiance to parties, factions and ideologies, and called to adjudicate between warring parties we must always stand with the Lord and for the Lord. And what does the Lord stand for? St Paul tells us that our Lord has come to bring peace and reconciliation among enemies. The two groups of Christians, sprung from Jews and gentiles, which formerly were so much at loggerheads, are united by the blood of Christ and the single Spirit to form the single New Man which is Christ’s Body, the Church. We as shepherds after the heart of Jesus must do likewise, constantly bringing people together rather than sowing division.

Finally, our Lord shows us in the gospel that shepherds like His disciples need time and space to be rejuvenated. When they return to give a report of their exploits after their first missionary expedition, our Lord recognises their human needs - they are weary, tired and hungry. Rather than subject them to more gruelling activity, He invites them with these words: “You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while.” This is not any ordinary R & R, rest and relax, but necessary time to retreat and recollect (that’s our version of R & R), to spend time with the Lord in order to be rejuvenated, revitalised and re-created. Not only sheep need feeding. Shepherds need it too.

Though our Lord never said “no” to any cry for help or appeal for assistance as can be seen at the end of the gospel passage, He understands that Christianity is not just a non-stop flurry of activities. There can be no love of God, no true love of self, nor love of others, without that stillness and silence which makes us receptive to them all. Prayer is the fuel which powers our sense of mission. Without it, we would be running on empty, the shepherd’s work would feel like a heavy chore rather than something to be cherished and celebrated.

So, even as we struggle to imitate our Lord as a good shepherd, to be faithful to whatever and whoever has been entrusted to us, to not abdicate our responsibilities for selfish reasons or choose to flee when things get tough and rough, it is comforting to always remember that we are sheep who have a Shepherd who is always there for us, strengthening us, guiding us, protecting us and cleaning up after us when we have made a mess of things. He is that Shepherd whose “work is never done.”

The Perfect Sacrifice

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Year B

Many a young child’s dream and ambition of becoming a doctor had been dashed by one simple fear - they were haemophobic. Not “homophobic” but “haemophobic”, the fear of blood, wounds and injuries. So, if you happen to have this sad condition, today’s feast and its readings, if you had really listened and paid attention to every word, may make your stomach churn. What unites all three readings is the mention of blood and bodies? Today’s feast is definitely a bloody affair!

Why is blood and a corpse involved in today’s feast? It would be stating the obvious that we are speaking of the blood and body of Jesus Christ since this is the proper name of this feast. But to understand why our Lord would sacrifice both His Body and Blood, we would need to understand two concepts in the Bible, that of sacrifice and the covenant.

The idea of sacrifice arises from the first and the highest duty of man, which is to hand himself over, to surrender, to submit himself to God. This sacrifice involves two parts - first, an interior and invisible offering of ourselves to God; and second, this offering must be outwardly and sensibly signified. In other words, one cannot sacrifice by merely intending it and making a mental offering to God. This must be matched by an external sign which signifies and makes visible that internal sign. This is fundamentally the basis of our sacramental theology - outward sign of inward grace.

What the Pharisees were guilty of and which our Lord condemned was that they had confined their sacrifices to outward show but lack the interior disposition necessary to make a true offering of oneself. Virtue signalling is a modern term coined for this. Today, the tendency is reversed. Many modern Christians argue that good intentions are enough and we should disregard external rituals and practices which are considered showy and frivolous. This would explain why so many Christians have abandoned the Holy Mass and even removed the altars from their sanctuaries.

But, for the Jews, the shedding of blood and the immolation (or killing) of the animal was necessary for the atonement of one’s sins. This was not just something which man cooked up in his sadistic blood thirsty mind but was in fact commanded by God. According to Hebrews (9:22), “Without the shedding of blood there is no remission.” By the very act of offering and giving these animals over to death, men acknowledged that they themselves were deserving of death because of their sins; and in this action, they expressly admitted, that did God will to judge them as their sins deserved, He could in justice inflict death on them. These poor animals would literally be the “scape goats” that take away the sins of the world. But the sad truth, as Hebrews tells us, is that these animal sacrifices could not remove the stain of our sins, nor could they reconcile us with God. A far greater and more perfect sacrifice was necessary.

Before considering that far greater sacrifice, it is necessary to look at another purpose of such blood sacrifices. Blood and sacrifice were also needed in the sealing of covenants. Ancient peoples did not just resort to lawyers and their penmanship to enact pacts with each other. Pacts and covenants were sacred affairs and to make them lasting and their breaking almost impossible, the gods were invoked to not only stand as witnesses to these agreements between mortals but to also be a party to them.

So, from the very beginning, the patriarchs entered into covenants with God by making animal sacrifices - Noah, Abraham and Moses just to name a few. The Mosaic covenant which we heard in the first reading required that the blood of the sacrificed animals be sprinkled on the altar, the tabernacle as well as the people. Just imagine the climatic scene in Stephen King’s Firestarter, where the protagonist Carrie is drenched in pig’s blood. In fact, everything that is to be used in the ritual sacrifice had to be cleansed with blood, not water. Can you picture a more bloody scene than this and happening in the sacred Temple of all places? With the use of blood in the sealing of the covenant, God, in essence, was declaring He would give His life if His promises were broken. There could be no greater encouragement to believers, since God is eternal and can no more break an oath than He can die.

All of these things were only “copies,” or “shadows,” of the better and more perfect covenant to come. The lives of animals could never remove sin; the life of an animal is not a sufficient substitute for a human life. The blood of bulls and goats was a temporary appeasement until the final, ultimate blood covenant was made by Jesus Christ Himself – the God Man. In the second reading, the author of Hebrews tells us that “the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer are sprinkled on those who have incurred defilement and they restore the holiness of their outward lives; how much more effectively the blood of Christ, who offered himself as the perfect sacrifice to God through the eternal Spirit, can purify our inner self from dead actions so that we do our service to the living God.” Furthermore, Hebrews adds this claim: “His death took place to cancel the sins that infringed the earlier covenant. The shadows became realities in Christ, who fulfilled all of the Old Testament blood covenants with His own blood.”

We often forget that the Eucharist is the sign which signifies the new covenant of Jesus, and because it is a covenant, it also makes demands of us. Whenever we partake of this sacrifice and covenantal meal, we are declaring what Moses did in the first reading, but in a far more intense and firmer way: “We will observe all the commands that the Lord has decreed.” This becomes a real challenge to your average cafeteria Catholic, and there are many who fit this label. What is a cafeteria Catholic or using a metaphor closer to home - an economy mixed rice Catholic? A cafeteria Catholic is typically defined as one who picks and chooses what Catholic teaching he wants to believe. But the truth of the matter and a bitter pill to swallow, is that Catholics are not free to choose which teachings to obey. The faithful must give “a religious submission of the intellect and will” to the teachings of Christ and His Church. First and foremost, would be the faithful celebration of the sacraments of the Church according to their proper rubrics (rules) and not just adapt and make alterations which suit the celebrant’s preferences. It is hard to justify when claiming that one values Christ but chooses to ignore or reject what His Church teaches. Eschewing cafeteria Catholicism might satisfy our appetite temporarily, but only the full banquet prepared by the Lord can fill our souls.