The Light of God surrounds me

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a Servant

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of the most common come back lines in Malaysian colloquial speech when you feel that the other person is taking advantage of your good nature is “you think I’m your servant ah?” It’s used by mothers to sons who litter the floor with their unwashed socks and underwear and who don’t wash their own plates after a meal; “you think I’m your servant ah?” To a friend who seems to treat you with contemptuous over-familiarity who expects you to always pay when you go out for a meal or by ordering you around to do things which he could have easily done on his own: “you think I’m your servant ah?” The bottom line is this - it is insulting and demeaning to be treated like a servant. A real servant deserves better.

However, the first reading introduces us to this anonymous character of the Servant (which would be expanded in chapters 52 and 53). This mysterious figure is often described as the Suffering Servant, because Isaiah sets out in detail the suffering he has to endure at the hands of his enemies - he will be mocked, rejected, beaten and even killed. Who could this person be? Prophecies, being deliberately ambivalent, often tend to work on more than one level. From the passage we had just heard in the first reading, it would seem that Isaiah is referring first to himself - the prophet is the servant of God “who formed [him] in the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob back to him, to gather Israel to him.”

But then, there is also an allusion to the entire nation of Israel who is now in exile and in captivity in Babylon as being God’s Servant, entrusted with a mission: “I will make you the light of the nations so that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” So, to a people languishing in exile, wondering if they would ever be able to return to their beloved homeland, the prophecy comes as a powerful word of consolation.

But as Isaiah begins to develop the concept and extrapolate on the fate of this Servant, it becomes clearer that the prophecy had more to do with a person other than himself or the nation of Israel as a corporate personality. It is clear that the mission of the Servant is not just to liberate Israel, bring them home and restore the nation but would also serve as a beacon that will draw all nations to God.

Jesus perfectly embodies the Suffering Servant since He is "despised and rejected," gives His back to be beaten, and doesn't hide His face from shame. Like the Servant, Jesus endures mockery, abuse, and crucifixion without complaint, demonstrating profound communion with God even in suffering. And we all know that His suffering wasn’t for Himself but He endured it as bearing the sins of others, bringing healing and making reconciliation with God possible. The Servant is literally the One “who takes away the sin of the world.” This makes a perfect segue to the words of the Baptist in the gospel.

St John the Baptist does more than state the obvious. He marries the idea of the redemptive and rehabilitative mission of the Servant and that of the Chosen and Anointed One (the Messiah) with a lamb - in fact, this man, Jesus, is “THE Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world.” The idea of a lamb may not be so apparent to us modern urban folks. Is the allusion only to a cute, cuddly farm animal which would end up on our dinner table? For the Jews at that time, the very mention of the lamb invokes an image of a Temple sacrifice. Lambs and other animals were reared to be sin offerings. In other words, they were the sacrificial substitutes that would have to die for our sins. Making confession those days was a bloody business. Blood had to be literally shed. Thank God, the blood of lambs would suffice.

But this was not introducing an idea which was alien to the original concept of the Servant in Isaiah’s prophecy. In fact, in Isaiah Chapter 53, the image of the Servant is described using the metaphor of a lamb who is slaughtered and one who ‘bears’ the sins of others (Is 53:4, 11). Once again, the death of the Servant whether it was the nation of Israel or a person, was meant to be a sin offering to bring spiritual benefits to the Gentiles.

It is clear that scripture does not view servanthood as a sign of weakness or even sees it as an insult if someone were to be called “servant.” The Servant of God was ultimately tasked with a great mission, He had to shoulder the work of liberating His people, drawing others to God and ultimately being a light to the nations. But He was the Servant of the Lord. He was God’s representative - the Chosen One of God. Yet, the Servant, by virtue of His designation, never shone the light on Himself. His life, His mission, His entire identity and purpose, was to shine the light on His Master.

And so, we see ourselves too in the light of others who took up the mantle of being “servants” of the Lord, just like Isaiah and John the Baptist, we are called to point others in the direction of Christ. Just the other day, someone commented (sarcastically I must add) that the launching of our Jubilee Year was full of drama. In other words, we seem to be all showmanship with little substance. I told the person, “As long as the drama glorifies God and not seek to glorify oneself … like you!”

The next time you seem to be given a thankless job of cleaning up after others or attending to their needs or taking up a responsibility without acknowledgment, don’t complain: “you think I’m your servant ah?” Rather, see it as an opportunity to give glory to God and witness to His greatness by readily offering your nothingness to Him and others. There is no job beneath you. Being a servant is not just choosing to be last; it is desiring to be last.

Recall the words of our Lord spoken to His disciples: “Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must become your slave. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:26-28).

And there it is.
Do you want to be like Jesus? Serve others.
Do you want to be like Jesus? Choose to be last.
Do you want to be like Jesus? Be willing to sacrifice your life.
Be willing to set aside your preferences and desires for the preferences and desires of others.
If you dare to say, “I am a Christian,” be prepared to say: “I am a servant”.

My favour rests on Him

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

Several months ago, I attempted to provide a simple but lucid explanation of how God has favourites without having favourites. I’m not going to revisit that topic today for fear that I will be accused of being a broken record. Thank God for that! But I’m going to argue today that God does have one unique favourite person whom He loves above all else and I believe that none of you are going to protest and cry “not fair” because that person is none other than Jesus Himself, God’s Only Begotten Son, whom the Heavenly Father declares: “This is my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on him.”

We can understand why God would favour our Lord Jesus Christ. Though we are all His children by adoption through baptism, Jesus alone is the unique only begotten Son of the Father, who has been with the Father from the very beginning and as we profess in the Creed: “God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God”. If we are to compare ourselves with Him, the analogy of comparing an apple to an orange doesn’t even come close.

But with such special favour, there also arises a great mission and responsibility. Remember the Peter Parker principle from Spider-Man? “With great power comes great responsibility!” And this is why we hear in the first reading, what it means to be a favourite of God? The Spirit of the Lord is given to Him as we witness in the scene of the Baptism in order that He “may bring true justice to the nations.” He has been appointed “as covenant of the people and light of the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to free captives from prison, and those who live in darkness from the dungeon.” But there is a dark side to this mission. As the archetype for all fictional heroes, He must suffer, often in silence, in meekness, refusing to break or retaliate even when He is treated with humiliation and violence by His enemies. The Hero, the Anointed One, will be vilified and hated even though He saves the day. This is what the Beloved of God, the Favourite of God must endure. So, do you still want to be His favourite?

But we are indeed called to be God’s Beloved, called to be His favourites, all of us and not just some of us. Herein lies what I find to be the deepest mystery at the heart of baptism, and indeed at the heart of the whole sacramental order: there are certain actions Christ performed that, when performed by us within the context of His Body the Church, allow us to share in His very nature and mission in the world. In other words, Jesus did not come into the world merely to do things for us, but rather He came to open up through His humanity a way to participate in Him, to graft ourselves into His very life, to serve as He serves and to give our lives as He did. This is the mystery of the Incarnation - God became man so that men may become gods.

It is significant that this feast should take place on the first Sunday in Ordinary Time (even though there is no first Sunday in Ordinary Time). The reason being is that lectionary of Ordinary Time presents us with a scriptural catechesis of the very life and mission of Christ. And so this feast serves as an introduction to the entire life and mission of Christ. And should anyone have any doubt as to why we should even look to Christ as a model or imitate Him, the Church or God Himself gives the answer: “This is my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on him.” If there should be anyone in this world that we should look up to and seek to emulate, there can be no better model than Jesus, God’s Beloved Son and Favourite.

For many of us, our most common and seemingly very human response to knowing that God has favourites, would be to view this person with envy. But is that the correct response? In fact, the Church is in the business of holding up human examples of those who seem to have found favour with God. We call them saints. The Church does this not because she wishes to see us seething with envy but because she wants us to be saints too. To be a saint, in fact to be a Christian, is to be more Christ-like. A Christian is a “little Christ.”

So, it is a foolish distraction to become discouraged or envious of someone else’s progress in holiness! When we run into other people or read about saints who experience a deep, intimate relationship with God, we are faced with a choice. We can either envy them this intimacy – becoming angry and vindictive towards them because they have achieved a degree of holiness that we have not achieved. Or we can emulate them – we can acknowledge the beauty of the holiness they have achieved and use their experience as a spur to our own efforts pursuing spiritual maturity. The second option is the better one: when we encounter people holier than ourselves, they should inspire us to continue following the “narrow road” (Matthew 7:14) that leads to the life we long for. So, my dear friends, as we begin this New Year, as we begin a new cycle of Ordinary Time, let your discouragement be driven out by hope; let your frustration be banished by faith; and let your frown be erased by love. Let Hebrews 12:1 be your baptismal and life’s motto: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us.”

Take out the trash

Second Sunday of Advent Year C

In most households, this would be the time of the year to get some major heavy-lifting stuff done. As the adults attempt to clear up their remaining leave for the year and the children get time off from their studies, and everyone’s preparing to put up the Christmas decorations, they would take this opportunity to do some Christmas shopping for gifts and new clothes, bake cookies for the upcoming festivities and do some needed spring cleaning. Although these may seem like secular or practical customs bereft of theological meaning, they may have some basis in scripture and the underlying theme for Advent, especially for this Sunday.

Take for example what the prophet Baruch tells the people of Jerusalem in the first reading: “Jerusalem, take off your dress of sorrow and distress, put on the beauty of the glory of God for ever, wrap the cloak of the integrity of God around you, put the diadem of the glory of the Eternal on your head: since God means to show your splendour to every nation under heaven.” Our custom of buying new clothes and having a cosmetic make-over may seem trivial but may actually be a reflexion of this joyful and hopeful spirit expecting God’s definitive and imminent intervention. These words of the prophet are surprising for two reasons. Baruch, who is often associated with his doomsday prophecies and mournful lamentations, departs from that tone to give us an upbeat forecast of what is to come. Secondly, the people of Jerusalem and Judah are in no mood for celebration. Their country has been invaded, the population decimated, their infrastructures destroyed and the ruling class humiliated and taking off into exile to a foreign land. Yet, the prophet sees beyond this to a future that is bright, to say the least - a future that can only be realised in the gospel.

But Baruch moves beyond the imagery of a new set of attire and accoutrements to that of physical construction work that is required to build a highway. Nothing, no obstacle, no hindrance, absolutely nothing should stand in the way of what God is about to do for His people. The massive terrain engineering work envisaged by Baruch will be taken up by St John the Baptist in his proclamation that the high mountains will be flattened and the valleys filled in to make a smooth road for the Messiah to cross the desert to Jerusalem.

St Paul in the second reading adds to the list of things to be done before the Day of the Lord arrives, the Day of His return. So, in the light of the Lord’s coming Paul prays that, “your love for each other may increase more and more and never stop improving your knowledge and deepening your perception so that you can always recognise what is best. This will help you to become pure and blameless, and prepare you for the Day of Christ, when you will reach the perfect goodness.” Our lives’ project as we look to the day of the Lord’s return is to grow in faith, hope and charity and we should never take our foot off the peddle.

And finally, we come to the gospel where John the Baptist breaks into the scene, here in what we call the holiday season, and he impudently demands that we start cleaning as though our lives depended on it. But more than just our lives, the eternal salvation of our souls depend on it. He comes among us with an inconvenient message, a challenging message, a robustly difficult message - a call to repentance, a call for a thorough, radical house cleaning, but the house is that of our souls.

Probably in all of our spiritual residences, our lives, there are rooms that are dominated by clutter. There are corners where dust, and dirt, and trash have accumulated. There are signs of ill repair, where the paint is peeling, the carpet is frayed, and the drapes have faded. Windows are grimy; they barely let in the light of the sun. Such are the conditions on the inside. The outside is no better, though it is more public. Rubbish strewn in the garden, weeds flourishing where flowers used to grow, the driveway that begs to be repaved, walls that wait for scraping and fresh paint. St John the Baptist comes along and points to all of these defects, drags his fingers through the dust, kicks the dirty soiled clothes strewn on the floor and holds his nose as he beholds the unwashed plates and utensils in the kitchen sink.

John shakes the foundations of our comfort zones by uttering a single word, passing on a message that comes from God: Repent! It’s time to clean house, he tells us. Time to sweep the floors, wash the walls, air the rooms, repair what is broken, replace what is no longer useful. It’s time to paint the house, pull up weeds in the garden and trim the hedge. John demands that we make a lot of changes, expend a great deal of energy, get down on our hands and knees to clean the corners. He insists on all this because somebody is coming. He calls us to repent because heaven’s kingdom is very near. He wants us to sweat and struggle, do thorough spring-cleaning even in December, because he knows the results will be worth it.

You may ask yourself, where do I start? That’s a good question. We start by looking at these three basic questions, which we would usually ask ourselves if we want to get rid of all the clutter in our homes:
What needs to go?
What can I give away?
What needs some love and attention?

In the case of our spiritual lives, making an inventory of what needs to go and what needs to stay is just the first step. This should lead us to make a good examination of conscience and then go for sacramental confession before a priest. Ask yourself: What can you throw away? What needs to go? Put into that waste container of the confessional, then, every odious instance of pride, hypocrisy, and impatience from your life. Put into it every instance when you have exploited others. Put into it unholy anger and sick green envy. Put into it lust for people and for things, dishonesty in everyday relationships, negligence in prayer and worship, every failure to live your faith, every refusal to take a good and holy risk. We don’t need that stuff anyway. It takes up our space. It poisons our lives. Fill the dumpster high and let our Lord Jesus through the ministry of the priest haul it away.

Advent is not a feast and yet many forget this inconvenient fact and turn it into a time of premature merry-making. Advent, rather, is the preparation for the coming Feast. This, however, is what Advent is about. This is the time for spring-cleaning. Before we get to the barn in Bethlehem, all of us have to wake up to how our own spiritual house, our own lives, are worse than any self-respecting barn, and they plead for us to clean them. So, clean the house. Not just your residences, but the house of your soul. Let us remove the clutter of sin to make room for the Lord and let us turn away from everything that separates us from Him.

Rejoice! Indeed the Lord is near!

Third Sunday of Advent Year B

As that 60s Christmas song claims, “it’s the most wonderful time of the year.” But is it? It is true that for most people, there are many reasons to revel in the season - the exhilaration of Christmas shopping and carolling, the excitement of receiving gifts, partaking in family reunions, enjoying year-end holidays and taking the necessary break from work and school. But it can also be the season that creates much stress, anxiety and even depression. When more is expected, there can be more reasons to fail. Add to this natural predilection for disappointment and failure would be a global inflation gone out of control, a country with an uncertain and worrying political future, two major conflicts threatening to escalate into another world war.

Against this tide, not just a tide but a tsunami of despair, today’s liturgy shouts out this refrain: “Rejoice! Exult for Joy! Be happy at all times!” Our senses seem to want to shout back: “What’s there to be joyful about?” “Is the Church blind?”

And yet on this Sunday, the Church’s liturgy demands that we rejoice: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice!” These words are a paraphrase of the passage from St Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians which we heard as our second reading. Indeed, the Third Sunday of Advent is called “Gaudete Sunday.” “Gaudete” is the Latin word meaning ‘rejoice.’

What joy can there be in the midst of so much pain, suffering, gloom and darkness? It is certainly not the joy that emerges from some false optimism on our part that things are going to get better – too often, we can attest to this, things in fact get worse. Neither is it the joy that comes from creating an illusory world in our minds where pain and suffering is denied. So, what is this joy which the readings are speaking of? So, why should we be happy, and be happy “at all times,” albeit in good times or bad, in sickness or in health? St Paul tells us that this rejoicing is required of us simply “because this is what God expects you to do in Christ Jesus.” And the Church adds in her liturgy, “Indeed, the Lord is near.” The answer lies in Christ. True lasting joy is found only with God in Christ.

We are called to rejoice, because the Lord is coming – He is coming to save us, to liberate us, and to give us new life. Many of us may be experiencing some form of darkness in our lives. We find ourselves in the midst of problems without any apparent solution. We see ourselves ‘captives’ of our difficult circumstances, there seems to be no way out. Our hearts may be broken because of rejection or we have been hurt by the actions and words of others. We see ourselves poor, hungering and thirsting for friendship, understanding and a sense of belonging. Some of us find ourselves trapped in the darkness of sin.

If we see ourselves in any of these situations, rejoice and be glad, because the readings promise good news. This is the promise of God, as St. Paul tells us in the second reading: “God has called you and He will not fail you.” God is always faithful. God keeps His promise. God will not fail you. And what is this promise? The prophet Isaiah announces that the coming of the Lord’s anointed messenger will mean healing and liberation to all who are poor, broken-hearted, oppressed, and captive. The Good News is that which is announced by John the Baptist in the gospel – the Anointed One has come - Jesus has come – He is the Light of the World – and He is waiting to enter into your hearts and into your lives once again.

Therefore, we Christians anticipate the End Times not with fear and trembling, but with rejoicing. St Paul reminds us in the second reading, “Be happy at all times, pray constantly, and for all things give thanks.” Like the prophet Isaiah in the first reading, the thought of the “end times,” of Christ’s coming, should be met with euphoria, “I exult for joy in the Lord, my soul rejoices in my God!”

Sometimes we have an image of John the Baptist as an austere ascetic. In depicting the Baptist in this fashion, we tend to forget the joy that is associated with his entire life and vocation. It was him who leapt for joy in his mother Elizabeth’s womb when she encountered the Mother of the Word Incarnate. In the fourth Gospel, St John speaks of the source of the Baptist’s supernatural joy - it is the joy of the best man, who rejoices greatly at hearing the bridegroom’s voice. And thus, his humility opened a space within him for true joy, the kind which comes from the real presence of the Lord. So it can be, for each one of us.

Thus, John stands as a sign for us today on Gaudete Sunday. He points out for each one of us the path to lasting joy, not just a forgery or a fading type of joy. We should imitate his lifestyle of self-emptying – a life marked by humility – we prepare for the coming of the Lord by always holding on this basic principle that defined the Baptist’s life and mission, “He must increase and I must decrease.” Despite the difficulties he encountered, the harshness and austerity of his life, his imprisonment and execution at the hands of a local tyrant, John understood that as his own light dimmed and faded, another light was coming, the true light was coming to illuminate the darkened world and cast aside the shadows of sin. The Baptist only caught a glimpse of the first glimmer of light before the sunrise. We, on the other hand, have the privilege of knowing and witnessing that sunrise at Easter. We can, therefore, know no lasting peace and joy, unless we come to know Christ, the true Light of the World, and allow the light of His grace to transform us.

So, this Sunday, Gaudete Sunday, Rejoice Sunday, becomes another opportunity to be joyful, indeed it is a joy that is greater than it was in the days of the prophet Isaiah or in the days of John the Baptist. What they could only envision in a time of prophecy, we now experience in a time of reality. In just a matter of days we will celebrate the Feast of the Nativity of the Lord. But we do not just commemorate the past. The Liturgy anticipates the future, the coming of our Saviour, our Liberator, the Christ who will bring to completion the good work He has begun in us. For this reason, Holy Mother Church commands us in the imperative – “Rejoice”! Notice that this is a command, not a suggestion. “Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, gaudete: Dominus prope est.” “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Indeed the Lord is near!”

Behold the Lamb of God

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Last Monday, we celebrated the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord. Today, we seem to encounter a déjà vu moment. Unlike the synoptic gospels, the Fourth Gospel only has this second hand reported account of the Baptism of the Lord. Being a reported account rather than a direct record of the incident by the evangelist does not diminish its value. In fact, there is added value in the testimony of an eye witness, no less than St John the Baptist. This is no mere clinical and factual account of what others would have witnessed but also provides us with John’s own mystical insight of this event.

St John the Baptist sees our Lord approaching him and cries out in an imperative almost commanding voice addressing the crowd: “Look!” John did not use the rather tepid words “this is”. Rather the original Greek is ‘ide,’ which is an exclamation, and is matched well in formal English by “behold!” It’s the kind of expression when an artist unveils his masterpiece. The invitation to ‘behold’ helps us then to better visualise what John the Baptist is doing – he spots his cousin Jesus, points a finger in His direction and in a loud thundering voice exclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God! Behold him who takes away the sins of the world!”

The next day, John is standing with two disciples. Again, he sees Jesus coming towards them, and for the sake of his disciples he repeats the words, ‘Behold the Lamb of God’. This time these words are directed to his own disciples, not the crowd in general. The Baptist acts as a kind of sign-post – testifying to the One who is greater than he. John points away from himself to Jesus. It is clear that John intended his own disciples to leave him and join Jesus. They were now expected to give their undivided attention to Jesus, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. John understands that his own ministry is ending – it will end. The time has come for them to follow the Messiah.

What does John expect his disciples and all of us to behold? What did he mean when he conferred on Jesus the beautiful title of the ‘Lamb of God’?

First, the “Lamb of God” is not a phrase from the scriptures that is traditionally associated with the Messiah. There is one verse in Isaiah (53:7) where the “Suffering Servant” is described as “a lamb that is led to slaughter”. For the Jews, the image of a lamb resonates with them as they remember the sin atoning sacrifices offered at the Temple. Forgiveness of sins and worship in general was a messy and bloody affair. Thank God, we Catholics have the confessional and the Mass. But for the Jews, no blood no gain. Unblemished lambs were sacrificed every morning and evening in the Temple as a sin offering, and also at the great annual festival of Passover to mark the great event of Israel’s liberation. John’s gospel supports this motif by stating that Jesus was slain at the very time that the Passover lambs were being killed in the Temple.

But then, John does not stop with the title ‘Lamb of God’, but introduces a further imagery – this is the Lamb of God “who takes away the sin of the world.” This seems to recall the scapegoat, over whose head the Jewish High Priest confessed the sins of the people on the Day of Atonement. The goat was then driven away into the wilderness, as a sign that God in His mercy had removed far away the sins of the people. So added to the Passover themes of deliverance and rescue, of freedom from slavery, is the theme of atonement for our sins.

The words of John the Baptist finds a parallel, a sort of parody, at the end of the gospel of John. Pontius Pilate presents Him, flogged, bloodied, crown with thorns before an angry mob crying out for His execution. Pontius Pilate announces to them, “Ecce Homo” (Latin), “Behold the Man”. This disfigured person seems too human, in comparison to the idealised image of the Messiah they were expecting – a man of skin, blood and bones. “Behold the man!” Pilate didn’t know what he was saying, but John the apostle did. Jesus is the perfect man. The image of the invisible God, the beginning and the end, the One in whom all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. The One who shows us what God always intended humanity to be like. He is the One who takes the shame of our sin and bears the mockery of evil. The masterpiece of God’s creative work. When, therefore, Pilate sarcastically introduced Jesus with: “Behold, the man!” he said far more than he knew. “Behold, the man!” — indeed! We see before us not just a Man, we see before us the Invisible God made visible!

But it is in the Book of the Apocalypse, where we will see a convergence of these two images - Jesus identified as the Lamb of God at the beginning of the gospel of St John and Jesus as the Man of Sorrows at its end. It is the scene where St John describes his vision: “Then I saw, in the middle of the throne with its four living creatures and the circle of the elders, a Lamb standing that seemed to have been sacrificed; it had seven horns, and it had seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits that God has sent out over the whole world.” (Apoc 5:6) Jesus is the Lamb “standing” or “resurrected,” who had willingly allowed Himself to be “sacrificed” on the cross! The Book of the Apocalypse points back to the scene of the crucifixion on Golgotha and we now fully understand what the Baptist and Pilate could only perceive incompletely: the One on the cross is “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” “Behold!”

One of the great challenges of our time and even for the first disciples of Jesus, was making sense of Him being crucified. If He truly was the Son of God why did He suffer and die? Even the resurrection does not stifle this questioning, that Jesus rose from the dead does not make His suffering and dying any less real and problematic. But the answer to this problem at the end of the story, is found at its very beginning. It was the same two disciples who had followed John the Baptist who remembered his cryptic words “Behold, the Lamb of God!” and made the connexion between the innocent Jesus and the lamb of the Passover; linking His passing with the events of Exodus. The first disciples of Jesus preached His death not as a defeat, but as a sacrifice that takes away the sins of the world. Their ideas crystallised around the phrase “Lamb of God” and from being something shameful, the cross became their boast, from being a symbol of defeat, the cross has become a symbol of victory. His death was necessary in exchange for our lives.

That is why Christian liturgy and art show just how powerful the image of Christ as “the Lamb of God” is for Christians. Our Eucharistic liturgy still echoes the prophetic words of John the Baptist; the host is elevated and the priest says “Behold, the Lamb of God” – we are to look and recognise the innocent victim whose death takes our sins away. We recall Christ’s sacrifice as the Lamb of God, we recognise that in communion we taste forgiveness and life, liberation and salvation, the fruits and benefits of His passion. We behold Christ, in whom God has taken human flesh, and in seeing – beholding – Christ, we behold God. This is not just a man who has made Himself to be the Son of God. That was Pilate’s mistake. The Baptist understood and wanted his disciples to see what he saw. This is the Son of God who has made Himself the Man, the Lamb sacrificed and slain and left for dead but now standing erect because He is risen! Behold! Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world

Already but Not-Yet

Third Sunday of Advent Year A

We have a set of idioms which often express this truth that you cannot be doing two different things at the same time. For example, “He who chases two rabbits will catch neither.” But of course, some would claim, as President Joe Biden often does, that “you can walk and chew gum at the same time.” Advent has the ability to bring together two ideas which doesn’t seem to coalesce because they can be found at diametrically opposite ends of the time spectrum. One is that “Jesus is coming” and the second is that “Jesus has already come.” So which is it? Has he come or are we still waiting?

This is often described as “already-but-not-yet”. In salvation history, the past, present and the future are not like oil and water; they are organically connected like seed and tree. So, Christ’s first coming at Christmas marks the beginning of the last days. Christ is the fulfilment of the age of perfection and renewal envisioned by the prophets and yet, the complete fulfilment of those prophecies can only be experienced at a future time - when Christ returns in glory. Christ’s second coming will mark the end of the last days. So, we are living now between the beginning and the end of the End Times, between the Lord’s first and second coming.

This expectation of the Lord’s coming is a powerful theme among the prophets. This is what we hear in the first reading. To a people in exile who have lost their home, Chapter 35 of Isaiah is like a brilliant shaft of light breaking through the clouds of despair and all is bathed in splendour again. Arid wastes burst into bloom as the glory of the Lord comes down like refreshing showers, and the whole earth shouts for joy. It’s a vision to steady trembling hands, strengthen weak knees, and lift fearful hearts.

The people addressed here remember the sights of home, but they are far away, and powerless to return. They have been conquered and brutalised, and their anguished hearts cry out for vengeance, retribution, and deliverance. But they have no strength to right the wrongs they have suffered or to bring those responsible to account. They are blind, deaf, lame, and mute; they have no power to help themselves; only God can save them. And the good news of this chapter is that He will do just that. Isaiah cries, ‘Look, your God is coming, vengeance is coming, the retribution of God; he is coming to save you.’ He will raise up a highway for them and bring them home. They will enter Zion with singing…sorrow and sighing will flee away, and they will be overtaken by a joy that will never end.

What an amazing vision and yet it is clear that it reaches beyond the event of the return of the Jews from exile to something else. Even after returning from exile, the Jews continue to suffer. The everlasting joy promised in this chapter will always prove elusive, until it finds its fulfilment in Christ. This too was on the mind of St John the Baptist as he languished in prison awaiting his own execution. Having received word of our Lord Jesus and His ministry, John sends his disciples to clarify his doubts: “Are you the one who is to come, or have we got to wait for someone else?” In other words, is Jesus the fulfilment of the prophecies of Isaiah?

Although no timeline is given for this to happen, Isaiah’s prophecy provides the “signs” by which this age is to be identified: “the eyes of the blind shall be opened, the ears of the deaf unsealed, then the lame shall leap like a deer and the tongues of the dumb sing for joy.” Our Lord’s answer to the Baptist’s emissary confirms that Isaiah’s prophecy is being fulfilled: “Go back and tell John what you hear and see; the blind see again, and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised to life and the Good News is proclaimed to the poor.” The miracles worked by the Lord demonstrate that the moment of true redemption foreseen indistinctly by the prophets has come to pass.

If our Lord is the fulfilment of what the prophets had anticipated, then why are we still living in expectation? Yes, our Lord has already fulfilled these prophecies through His first coming at the Incarnation but its final results will only be seen when He returns in glory after His ascension to the Father’s right hand. From there He sends out the Holy Spirit on His Church. Now He is present in our midst through faith, through the preaching of the Gospel and in the sacraments. So, although we continue to wait in anticipation for that day when all His enemies will be placed under His feet, we are already now experiencing His victory over sin, the devil and death. His victory is “already-but-not-yet!” This is why the Church exhorts us to rejoice.

The call to rejoice may seem a little hollow. We are facing so many challenges on a personal and public level. There are financial stresses, health problems, deadlines at work, dysfunctional relationships with family members. On a national and global perspective, there is widespread inflation and a shrinking economy, an unstable unity government on the brink of shattering, political and religious apathy especially among the young, and perhaps a world on the brink of a third world war. So, in the midst of this, how do we rejoice? How can we rejoice?

It is good to be reminded that the Lord did not promise us a trouble-free life or world. One cannot find any such articulation in the gospels. The promise is that: ‘your God is coming, vengeance is coming, the retribution of God; He is coming to save you.’ And we see in Christ that this promise is already being fulfilled but not completely yet. We Christians must continue to live in the tension between the “already” and the “not yet”. It is the tension of knowing that God has come in the flesh, but we await His return in glory; that God has wreaked vengeance to and brought retribution to our enemies although we still have to live under their oppressive rule for a limited time; and that although God has saved us and liberated us from the prison of sin and death, we must continue to persevere and faithfully follow the path of sanctification, resisting sin and growing in virtue through the graces.

Though our future is certain because we have been redeemed by our Lord’s death and resurrection (the already), our sanctification (the not yet) can be turbulent. Sanctification is an ongoing battle. Sometimes we win; sometimes we lose. We’re constantly in flux. We have mountaintop experiences before lying defeated in dark valleys. We take three steps forward before quickly taking two steps (or four steps) back. In the midst of this distressing battle, viewing one’s sanctification through the already-not yet lens keeps you from feeling powerless. We of course, would like to have only one of these realities: victory without defeat, success without failure, perfection without sacrifice. But as for now, living in the tension of the “already” and “not yet,” we must learn to patiently endure both realities, knowing that our Lord “is coming, vengeance is coming, the retribution of God, He is coming to save you.” That is why, let us heed the advice of St James: “Be patient, brothers, until the Lord’s coming…do not lose heart, because the Lord’s coming will be soon.”

Encounter of Joy

Fourth Sunday of Advent Year C

On this last Sunday of Advent before Christmas, our gospel takes us to the scene of the last recorded appearance of Mary in the gospels before the birth of our Lord - the scene of the Visitation of our Lady to her cousin Elizabeth. The Visitation is one moment from the infancy narratives that can prepare us in a special way for the coming of our Lord this Christmas. It provides us with a snapshot of Mary as a loving servant who is familiar with the Scriptures, bubbling over with joy, and confident in the promises of her God.

The scene also provides us with the prophetic words and action of both Elizabeth and the unborn child within her womb. Even here, John the Baptist, still a foetus, displays his prophetic skills as the precursor of the Messiah. It is here, and not at the river Jordan, where our Lord and the Baptist first meets. But lastly, the real protagonist of this story remains quiet and hidden. Like John, our Lord Jesus also remains nestled in the womb of His mother. No one would have even noticed His presence without the revelation and prompting of the Spirit who alerted John, who in turn alerted his mother with a joyful kick in the womb.

John, the child in Elizabeth’s womb, could not contain his joy and leapt, danced, rejoiced at the approach of Jesus. I think it is fair to say that few of us react with such poignant and uncontainable joy when we come close to our Lord. Christmas has this alluring power over us, both old and young. It is capable of igniting this childlike joy and sense of wonderment in us, as we long to peek into the crèche on Christmas night to catch a glimpse of the new born child.

But there is something of Christmas even now, in fact every day. In every Catholic church, there present is Jesus Christ – in His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. Fully, truly, really, and substantially present. This is no mere symbol, nor even some manner of imperfect presence. Far too often we are guilty of falling scandalously short of appropriate reverence for the Eucharist. Let us pray that we will experience the same excitement as did John in his mother’s womb. We should be leaping and dancing with joy as we come into the presence of our Lord.

In fact, we should be exclaiming with Elizabeth and asking ourselves this question: “Why should I be honoured to be given such a great privilege to visit our Lord?” Just like Elizabeth, we cannot remain silent observers here, nor treat this moment as something common and ordinary. We need to listen to Elizabeth if we wish to have a proper perspective of Christmas. She alone, inspired by the Holy Spirit, makes a declaration of faith which becomes an essential component of the “Hail Mary” – “Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus”. Her words become the foundation of our Christian faith regarding the true nature of Christ and what we celebrate at Christmas. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “Called in the Gospels “the mother of Jesus” Mary is acclaimed by Elizabeth, at the prompting of the Spirit and even before the birth of her son, as “the mother of my Lord.” In fact, the One whom she conceived as man by the Holy Spirit, who truly became her Son according to the flesh, was none other than the Father’s eternal Son, the second person of the Holy Trinity. Hence the Church confesses that Mary is truly “Mother of God” (Theotokos).” (CCC 495)

And finally, we have Mary, “the mother of my Lord.” Mary’s spirit dances in anticipation of the Lord. Having received glad tidings from the angel about the Son she would bear for God, for the salvation of humanity, she travels “quickly” to Elizabeth and upon arriving, bursts into a joyful song of praise. It is unfortunate that we do not get to hear her song of praise, the Magnificat, as this is the climax of this episode of the Visitation. Her ‘bubbling over’, mimics the joy of Heaven. There’s no room for anything but praise and thanksgiving. It overwhelms, overflows, “overshadows” — a word we also hear at the Annunciation.

Mary, our Blessed Mother, is the perfect example of devotion to Jesus, of reverence for His Holy Presence. She leads the Church to keep vigil at the crèche, awaiting the birth of her Son. Consider the words of Saint Teresa of Calcutta: “In the mystery of the Annunciation and the Visitation, Mary is the very model of the life we should lead. First of all, she welcomed Jesus in her existence; then, she shared what she had received. Every time we receive Holy Communion, Jesus the Word becomes flesh in our life – gift of God who is at one and the same time beautiful, kind, unique. Thus, the first Eucharist was such: Mary’s offering of her Son in her, in whom he had set up the first altar. Mary, the only one who could affirm with absolute confidence, “this is my body”, from that first moment offered her own body, her strength, all her being, to form the Body of Christ.”

Amidst the flurry of shopping, visiting, and end-of-year work activities that will surely fill our Advent calendars this season, take a few minutes each day to encounter God, who often chooses to be hidden only to reveal Himself when you willingly spend time with Him in prayer, especially before the Blessed Sacrament. If you longed for the experience to spend time before the manger on that first Christmas night, know that each time you spend time before the Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle is no lesser experience. If you struggle with prayer and don’t know what to say, dig deep into Scriptures like Mary, and pray the Magnificat with her. Let your soul proclaim the greatness of the Lord this Advent and beyond, through joy, Scripture, and loving service.

What must we do?

Third Sunday of Advent Year C

St John the Baptist was truly an enigmatic figure of his time, as he remains one today. An ascetic who lived away from the company of friends and society out in the wilderness, who dressed strangely and survived on a stranger diet in the manner of a lunatic, performing ablutions which were usually done on initiates into the Jewish faith or priests before they performed the Temple sacrifices, and finally calling his audience, even those who considered themselves pious and righteous, to repentance. Despite his strange appearance and his sober message, there was something intriguing about him which drew crowds to him like a rock star and celebrity, and he did all this without having any miracle recorded in his name.

Last week, we were already introduced to the Baptist as the son of Zechariah who lived out in the wilderness and “went through the whole Jordan district proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” St Luke describes him as the fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy concerning the voice in the wilderness calling all to prepare the way of the Lord. In today’s gospel, he is in the wilderness again excoriating the crowds who came seeking baptism and repentance and deliverance. “Who warned you …?,” John wants to know. "Who told you to come out here? What did you think you would find?" Who the crowds find is a fiery prophet of God, preaching judgment upon the injustice that permeates this world.

If you pay attention to the thread of gospel readings for Advent, you would soon realise that John is an irritant fixture of this season. He appears in all three lectionary cycles. He is like apple is to apple pie, and cheese is to cheesecake. The Church places him here for a distinct purpose - not just because he is a precursor to the Messiah, whose birth we will welcome at Christmas but because of his message which is needed in every age.

We need a John the Baptist who will speak prophetically and clearly in the wilderness. We need a John the Baptist who will warn us that judgment is at hand. We need a John the Baptist who will tell us what we need to hear, and not just tell us what we want to hear. We need a John the Baptist who will name the sins that pervade our lives and the injustices that structure our broken world. But we also need a John the Baptist who will point us to the path God has set before us.

In today’s passage, three groups come before him with the same question: “what must we do?” John provides each with a customised answer.

The first group are identified as “all the people.” The crowds wonder how they should respond to John’s prophetic condemnations. He tells them to love their neighbours. To share what extra they have with another and to give to those who lack even the most basic necessities. Nothing outlandishly radical. He is merely calling them to ordinary acts of grace and charity.

Next comes the deplorable tax collectors who ask the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct these agents of the Roman colonial power to get new jobs helping those in need, to stop serving their imperial masters and repay those they previously had taken advantage of. No, instead, John calls them to be good tax collectors, to collect only that which is required of them. Once again, he calls them to ordinary acts of grace and charity.

Finally, the soldiers come along to ask the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct these soldiers to lay aside their instruments of violence and embrace a way of peace. Instead, John tells them not to use their position of power to steal life or livelihood from anyone. Be good soldiers, he demands of them. He does not call them to do anything extraordinary or radical, but merely to ordinary acts of grace and charity.

So, what might John the Baptist say to us today? What would he say to us if we approach him with this question: “what must we do?”

On this Third Sunday of Advent, we can imagine John using the words of Saint Paul in the second reading, “I want you to be happy, always happy in the Lord,” or its other translation found in the entrance antiphon, which has given this Sunday its Latin name, Gaudete Sunday - “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say Rejoice.” You may protest that joy doesn’t seem to be one of the vibes that you are getting from this man who lived an austere life in the wilderness and who sternly calls us to repentance.

Believe it or not, John the Baptist is the patron saint of spiritual joy.  After all, at the presence of Jesus and Mary at the scene of Mary’s visitation to her cousin Elizabeth, he leapt for joy in his mother’s womb (Lk. 1:44).  And we are told that he is the friend of the bridegroom who rejoices to hear the bridegroom’s voice (Jn. 3:29-30).

Such joy arose from John’s humility who did not see our Lord as a rival or a competitor. Many, especially among the religious elite, felt threatened by Jesus’ popularity.  But John actually encouraged his disciples to leave him, and follow the Lamb of God.  When people came, ready to honour John as the messiah, he set them straight.  He was not the star of the show, only the best supporting actor.  He stressed that he was not even fit or worthy to occupy the position of a foot slave to remove the sandals of his master. Even his coveted baptism by water would be inferior to the Messiah’s baptism of fire and the Holy Spirit. John makes it clear that he was not the Word Incarnate, only the voice who announces the word. Our Lord Jesus was the one to watch.  John may have been centre-stage for a while, but now that the star had shown up, he knew it was time for him to slip quietly off to the dressing room.

Perhaps here is where we need John the Baptist most. He might turn to us and call us to ordinary acts of grace and charity. He might call us to give what we have. He might call us to stay at our jobs and do them well. He might call us to the radical idea that seemingly ordinary lives can be imbued with the extraordinary spirit of God to transform the world. But ultimately, John is calling us to be convincing witnesses of joy because we have been touched by the Messiah.

During this Christmas season, we expect to enjoy with the family and friends times of conviviality and joy. Such expectations have been shattered this year. We could throw our hands up in despair. We could lament over a shattered world. We could grieve those we have lost, the dreams that have been shattered. We could continue to take the necessary precautions to keep our loved ones and us safe. Yes, we should do all these things. And as we do all these things, we should also live ordinary lives infused by the extraordinary call to love God and love neighbour and be joyful witnesses of the gospel. In a bleak world filled with discontent and weighed down by failure and discouragement, let us show that it is possible with God’s Grace to rejoice always, especially knowing that “indeed, the Lord is near.” Such joy can be contagious.

A voice calls out in the wilderness

Second Sunday of Advent Year C

Pope St Paul VI famously wrote: “The history of salvation is being accomplished in the midst of the history of the world." This is what we see in today’s gospel passage - the convergence between human history and salvation history - between man as a subject of time and God who is Master of time.

St Luke provides us with a list of historical and political luminaries at that material point in time, teasing the reader to think that he is about to provide us with another account of world history. But then the evangelist swiftly shifts our attention to a seeming nobody “John son of Zechariah”, whose ministry and teaching now provides us with the foundation for the climax of salvation history - the coming of the Messiah.

The reason why St Luke weaves both threads into his narrative is to show us that the story of salvation history does not take place in a vacuum, as something totally separated from human history, but as Pope St Paul VI asserts: “the history of salvation is being accomplished in the midst of the history of the world.” God who is not bound by time and space chooses to enter our time and space at this very moment and in this very spot – the unnamed wilderness in an insignificant part of the Roman empire, away from the centres of power and influence.

But the mention of these historical political figures also wishes to establish a context for St John’s preaching and ministry, which will subsequently lead to that of Jesus. This opening verse sets the scene for a world that has gone awry, a world where God’s people live as a conquered people in their own land, and where those in power would crucify the One God sent to save the world. The first verse sets forth a world ruled from Rome and rife with sin. In this world gone wrong, the Word of God came not to any of these political figures who often claim divine election to support their claim for legitimacy and authority, but to John the Baptist who “went through the whole Jordan district proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Notice that John was not calling for a political revolution or instigating his followers to start an insurrection. What was far more needed was a spiritual revolution.

We often blame our politicians for the problems we face in our country. We blame our parents for the influence they had in our upbringing. We blame the school system for the defective education that we have received. And finally, we blame the Church for her sanctimonious values and her penchant for making us feel guilty. But the real problem often evades us, especially when we can’t put our finger on it. Our world is falling apart and we cannot repair it until we honestly acknowledge the problem. The fact of the matter is that the root cause of the problems in our world is sin. Sin is spoken of in Genesis chapter 4 as something that is crouching at our door, desiring to consume us, and we are told that we must rule over it. Instead, we have allowed sin to rule over us.

And so, the ministry of calling God's people to repent is at the very heart of John the Baptist's ministry. And he called on the people not to give just lip repentance, but to give life repentance: to show the evidence of real gospel repentance by the way they lived - nothing short of a massive spiritual re-engineering and death-construction.

St Luke tells the reader that the ministry of St John calling the people to repentance is a fulfilment of the prophecy of Isaiah. Isaiah’s prophecy has in mind, building up a great road for the arrival of a majestic king. The idea is to fill in the holes and knock down the hills that are in the way. The idea is taken from the practice of eastern monarchs, who, whenever they entered upon an expedition, or took a journey through a desert country, sent harbingers before them, to prepare all things for their passage; and pioneers to open the passes, to level the ways, and to remove all impediments. The returning victorious King deserves a smooth highway, not some dirt road cutting through treacherous terrain.

The idea of preparing the way of the LORD is, therefore, a word picture, because the real preparation must take place in our hearts. Building a road is very much like the preparation God must do in our hearts. To flatten mountains and fill in valleys, is no easy task. Likewise, to remove the obstacles of sin from our hearts is not something which demands little effort on our part. Both enterprises are costly, both come at great effort, they both must deal with many different problems and environments, and they both take an expert engineer to clear the path of obstacles. God is that expert engineer whom you must allow into your heart.

What a contrast this vision of the construction of a great highway is to the voice of John the Baptist crying in the wilderness who announces its coming fulfilment. What a contrast it is to that scene of a helpless infant lying in a manger which is the focus of the great feast we prepare to celebrate during this Advent season. Other political rulers and celebrities of our modern times may occupy the front covers and headlines of our news, and yet we know that it is not them but that helpless infant, whose John’s voice heralds, is the salvation of God which all men shall see, the One in whom this prophecy is fulfilled.

Testimony of Water, Blood and Spirit

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

The scene of the Baptism of our Lord actually provides us with two testimonies about Christ. First, John makes a statement about the superiority of Jesus and His baptism: “Someone is following me, someone who is more powerful than I am, and I am not fit to kneel down and undo the strap of his sandals. I have baptised you with water, but he will baptise you with the Holy Spirit.” And then the gospel records the incident of the actual baptism climaxing with the Father’s voice, “You are my Son, the Beloved, my favour rests on you.” So, here we have the testimony of two witnesses - that of a human witness, St John the Baptist, and that of God the Father, which is far superior, but only heard by the Son. How do we understand the significance of these testimonies? Jewish law requires the testimony of two or three witnesses to support a charge against a person, especially when it involves a death penalty (e.g. Dt 17:5; Num 35:30).

With such irrefutable testimonies, it shouldn’t be too hard for the world to accept our Lord Jesus’s identity and mission. But this is not so. In an incredulous world, we need evidentiary proof and credible witnesses. To see is to believe. St John in the second reading, therefore argues that we have the corroboration of three witnesses- water, blood and Spirit. He wisely adds that “we accept the testimony of human witnesses, but God’s testimony is far greater.”

Let’s first consider the visible evidence of water. Water is necessary to become a Christian. We are immersed in the “living waters” of baptism and the gift of the Spirit is poured out upon us. At the Easter liturgies, all the baptised are reminded of their own baptism through the renewal of vows and the sprinkling of water. But what is the significance of water? Water quenches our thirst and is necessary for life. According to the prophet Isaiah in the first reading, it is freely given to those who seek it willingly. But water also destroys, as in the case of the Great Deluge during Noah’s time and the parted waves of the Red Sea which came down on Pharaoh and his army as they pursued the fleeing Israelites. But in both cases, what emerged from those destructive waters was new life; only sin and evil were destroyed. In the same way, sin is destroyed in the waters of baptism, and new life is restored to the newly born children of God.

But what about our Lord’s baptism? Remember that the Lord was sinless and therefore had no need to be washed by the waters of the river Jordan. What was the purpose of Him entering those waters? It was not Him who was purified, since He had no need of purification. St Gregory Nazianzen tells us that Christ “comes to bury sinful humanity in the waters. He comes to sanctify the Jordan for our sake and in readiness for us; He who is spirit and flesh comes to begin a new creation through the Spirit and water.” This is what we witness during the Easter Vigil liturgy, when the Paschal Candle, a symbol of Christ, is plunged into the baptismal fount to consecrate the waters which will be used for the sacrament of regeneration and rebirth. This water is the life-giving water which Christ promised to the Samaritan woman at the well and which He poured out from the cross. Recall that after our Lord dies, the soldiers came and one of them “thrust his lance into his side, and immediately blood and water flowed out.”

But water is not the only witness. There must be the corroborating testimony of blood too. When the lance pierced the side of our Lord, it was not only water which sprouted forth from the wound but also blood. We must not only bath in this life-giving water but also drink from the blood of Christ. One could speak of the two sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist, as a two-fold baptism - one with water and the second with His blood. Tertullian writes: “These two baptisms He sent out from the wound in His pierced side, in order that they who believed in His blood might be bathed with the water; they who had been bathed in the water might likewise drink the blood. This is the baptism which both stands in lieu of the fontal bathing when that has not been received, and restores it when lost.” That is why the Sacrament of Initiation is not only confined to the sacrament of baptism but necessarily includes the Eucharist.

But the Sacrament of Initiation still lacks a third component. Having received baptism and the Eucharist, one still needs the sacrament of Confirmation. That is why St John speaks of the Holy Spirit as the third witness. At the scene of the Baptism of the Lord, the Spirit comes down upon Him in the bodily form of a dove, witnessing to His Godhead. As a dove once came down to announce the end of the Flood during the time of Noah and inaugurate a new covenant where God promises to never destroy humanity again, the Holy Spirit now witnesses to the One who seals an everlasting covenant which promises salvation and eternal life. The Apostles are witnesses precisely because the Holy Spirit is at work in them, empowering them (Acts 1:8).

These three “witnesses” do not only testify that Jesus is the Son of God, but they also testify to the efficacy of the sacraments which provide us with the grace and power “to overcome the world.” One of the most tragic consequences of the Protestant rebellion is the disavowal of the Sacraments. Their suspicion of the sacraments eventually led to their demise. Gradually, each of the sacraments were rejected by the Reformers until baptism alone remained. But even this was not spared. Today, the baptism performed by many evangelical and Pentecostal Christians is merely an impotent symbol - a witness by men to men, not one which is witnessed by water, the Blood of Christ or even the Spirit. If one thinks that the waters of Baptism, the real presence of the Eucharist, the anointing of Confirmation are just impotent and empty symbols, it’s easy to see why the words of St John would make no sense to Protestants.

To be sure, there are symbolic baptisms in Scripture: the baptism of John the Baptist was one example. It was a symbolic act marking a person’s repentance. But apart from that, it could not confer new life, it could not fundamentally transform us, it had little effect on our future salvation. Only Christ could accomplish all those things and He did by instituting the sacraments and placing them in the hands of the Church. The Baptist could only baptise with water but only Christ could baptise with the Holy Spirit. Rather than impotent symbols, Scripture repeatedly points to the waters of Baptism, along with the Blood of Christ and the workings of the Holy Spirit, as being responsible for our interior transformation, leading us from death to life, and bringing us into a state of fidelity with Jesus Christ.

What is the purpose of us being baptised in water, drinking the Blood of Christ and being anointed by His Spirit? It is simple - it is to share in our Lord’s divine life and His very mission. In the words of St Gregory Nazianzen, “Christ is bathed in light; let us also be bathed in light. Christ is baptised; let us also go down with him, and rise with him.” When our Lord went down into the waters of the river Jordan, we who are baptised in Him can see His death prefigured. But as He arose from the waters, immediately the heavens opened and the Spirit descended, and in this, we see the glory of the resurrection prefigured, and not just His resurrection, but ours too. And as His baptism launched Him on His public ministry, we too receive our commission at our baptism, confirmation, and at the end of every Mass, to be witnesses of this truth, that Jesus is the Christ, Jesus is the Son of God, and His testimony which is God’s testimony, is far greater than any human witness.

Be Happy at All Times

Third Sunday of Advent Year B

We’ve been constantly reminded that Advent is a season of conversion, of penance, of subdued celebration and finally, of reigning in our impatience. Yes, it’s Advent and not Christmas, well at least not for now. This, however, does not mean that you should rush to take down your Christmas tree or store away your Christmas decorations in anticipation of the Parish Priest’s unannounced home visit cum spot-check. Don’t worry the CMCO has taken care of that. Home visits have been cancelled this year. But Advent being an entirely Grinch-like experience is a gross mischaracterisation of the season. Today, the Church wishes to give us a foretaste of the joy of Christmas that is now at hand. In fact, Advent is indeed a time of joy, whilst remaining a time of sober preparation. This is because looking forward to a person’s arrival is always a cause of joy and Advent is the quintessential season of expectant waiting for the coming of our Lord. This joyful dimension is present in the readings of this Sunday.

The First Reading is an insistent invitation to rejoice. There is a verse therein which seems to be an early echo of the song of Mary, the Magnificat, “I exult for joy in the Lord, my soul rejoices in my God.” This joyful exclamation follows the words of prophecy of Isaiah that will be uttered by our Lord at the beginning of His public ministry in Nazareth: “The spirit of the Lord has been given to me for the Lord has anointed me...” The passage continues with a description of the ministry of the Messiah (the Anointed One) - He will heal, liberate, bring good news and declare a great Jubilee year. Thus, the joy with which we Christians speak of, springs not from a happy situation, a resolution of difficulty, a remedy to some affliction but like Mary, from the knowledge that the Messiah is coming and in fact, has already come.

According to Isaiah, God has given us a gift - the garment of salvation. If nakedness symbolised man’s sinfulness and depravity, being clothed reminds us of God’s precious gift of Grace. One of St Paul’s favourite leitmotifs is that of being clothed in Christ. The image also reflects a Christmas theme. We are immediately reminded of a mother tenderly wrapping her child up in swaddling clothes. The child, who is truly God, is now adorned with the flesh of humanity.

Of course, the joy that is promised in the prophetic text of Isaiah will find its fulfilment in Jesus. Indeed, in coming into the world He gives us His joy, just as He Himself confides to His disciples: “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete” (Jn 15:11). Our Lord brings new sight to the blind, liberation to the captives but more importantly, He brought His people salvation, a new relationship with God that overcomes evil and death.

In the Second Reading, we heard how St Paul invited the Thessalonians to make joy, prayer and gratitude a permanent feature of their lives. “Be happy at all times; pray constantly; and for all things give thanks to God.” What is the reason for this “permanent” disposition? St Paul explains that it is “because this is what God expects you to do in Christ Jesus.” Such exhilarating and lasting joy is not the product of some intoxicant nor is it the result of a hedonistic lifestyle, pursuing one fleeting pleasure after another. In fact, St Paul calls for Christians to be rational in their decision-making and be steadfast in doing good and avoiding evil. So, joy is not something momentary. It is a lasting joy that demands commitment. And our commitment is merely the proper response to God’s commitment – His faithfulness which is enduring: He “has called you and He will not fail you,” as St Paul tells us.

After the first two readings, let us come to the Gospel. While the theme of joy seems clearly evident in both the first and the second readings, it may require a little effort on our part to discern the message of joy that seems hidden beneath the stark veneer and seriousness of St John the Baptist in the gospel. One would not readily associate the austere figure of John with the characteristic of joy. John, for all purposes, comes across as your proverbial kill-joy. Nevertheless, the gospel does not depart from the central theme of this Sunday. How so?

John shows us that the secret of Christian joy is found in our fundamental vocation to be a witness for Christ. Pope Francis is fond of reminding us that joy is at the heart of the announcement of the gospel – we must be joyful witnesses of Christ. Dour, sour-faced Christians make bad witnesses of the gospel. St John the Baptist provides us with a clear example of what it means to be a witness for Christ. St John was happy to tell his audience that he isn’t the main protagonist of the story but another is. John humbly admits that he isn’t the Light which the people had been waiting for; he is merely a witness of the Light. When they questioned him, John says that he is not the Christ, not Elijah, nor the prophet. Most pointedly, he declares, “I am not”. This is the gospel, which again and again has Jesus say, “I am”. “I am” is how God introduces Himself in the Old Testament. John’s denials, his saying who he is not, is ultimately pointing to who Jesus is. Jesus is God, the great “I am.” The gospel is the gospel of Jesus and not of John’s or Michael’s or Elaine’s. As Christian witnesses, we must consistently reject any attempt to make ourselves the focus of our message. We must refuse to take the credit for what ultimately belongs to God.  In fact, credit must be given where it is due - Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Advent is surely the time for Isaiah, St Paul and the Baptist to be heard inviting us to focus on the One who can drape us with the garment of salvation, the One who is the source of all Light, the One whom we are unworthy to untie the straps of His sandals, and to respond to Him with joyful hope and fervent faith. As Christians, we rejoice in His coming. This is not a time to be gloomy-looking, or to put on a forced artificial entertainment. This is a time to express a real joy in our Lord’s victory over sin as He comes to live among us. He comes to give us the fullness of life; to give us a bounce in our step, a flutter to our heart-beat and a boost to our waning strength. And so, we must be ready to be His convincing witnesses to the world. How do we do that? “Be happy at all times; pray constantly; and for all things give thanks to God.”