The Gold Standard of Hospitality

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The opposite of Envy is Love

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

One of the most destructive attitudes you will find in any family, community or even the Church is envy. Even the disciples of the Lord were not immune to its influence. This may be the reason why they were arguing over who is the greatest. Likewise, the enemies of our Lord were also envious of His popularity and growing influence. Their hostility and opposition toward the Lord were not just motivated by a desire for self-improvement or advancement. They were incensed by His success and gleefully plotted His downfall which they had actually achieved when our Lord was crucified. St James puts it perfectly in the second reading: “Wherever you find jealousy and ambition, you find disharmony, and wicked things of every kind being done…”

The Angelic Doctor, St Thomas Aquinas defines envy as “sorrow for another’s good.” Just think for a moment about how squarely malicious envy is based on this definition. In fact, just as pride is the opposite of humility, envy can be thought of as the opposite of love. Love desires the good of the other; envy is its opposite. Love says, “I’m happy when you’re happy, and I’m sad when you’re sad.” Envy says, “I’m happy when you’re sad, and I’m sad when you’re happy.” Could anything be more terrible? Envy is a sibling of hatred. Whereas covetousness is an inordinate longing for what someone else has, envy goes further, wanting the other person to lose what he has. Wherever envy exists, hatred also resides—and misery follows.

But here’s the painful irony, envious people believe that they will be happy when their rival or foe has been shamed or defeated but their victory would prove to be pyrrhic. You see envy is the constant thief of joy. Most sins have an up-front sweetness but a bitter aftertaste. Envy, meanwhile, is bitter as you do it and bitter afterward—doubly miserable. Envy can take any gift of God and make it rot; it can turn heaven into hell.

Rather than wishing the worse on our enemies we should be praying for them, encouraging them and even choosing to be in solidarity with them. Our Lord once again repeats His prophecy that He would have to suffer grievously at the hands of His enemies. Instead of showing empathy and offering to share His sorrow and burden, the disciples choose to deflect, change the topic and selfishly descend into navel gazing and self-pity. Our Lord, instead of remonstrating them for their insensitivity, begins to instruct them on the new paradigm of a disciple and how to love their neighbour as the Saviour does, even when He is personally undergoing pain and distress.

In the face of the disciples’ ambition for first places, honours and privileges so contrary to His teaching, our Lord points the way of suffering, surrender, humility and charity: “If anyone wants to be first, he must make himself last of all and servant of all.” While those of the world choose to ascend the ladder of success, power and prestige, Christians must take a different path and avoid the personal failings of ambition, pride and search for power and dedicate our lives in service to others. The former would foster a culture of dog-eat-dog, stepping over the corpses of others to get to where we want to go. It is fuelled by envy, where our humanity is sacrificed. The Christian’s path, on the other hand, must imitate the condescension of our Lord - humility expressed in self-giving and service to others. Like allowing soap to penetrate the deepest caverns of a dirty wound, we must allow humility to penetrate the deepest caverns of our envy. As we pursue humility—including by praying for and encouraging those we’re tempted to envy—we can be confident God will reward us with life, joy, and freedom.

The last bit of instruction is often taken as either a lesson in hospitality shown especially to the weak who cannot repay our favour or a call to emulate the innocence and simplicity of a child, the prerequisite for humility. But our Lord makes this call unique by tying the welcoming of a child to welcoming Him. Yes, this last line points to the need to show hospitality and express humility, but also provides us the standard by which these things are done. Once again, our Lord is turning the question of greatness on its head. There is no need for us to be envious of each other in that we attempt to outdo each other even in the area of Christian virtue. The standard by which we should set our eyes on is Christ Himself, and certainly no one can claim to be greater than Him. So, rather than compete in getting ahead of the other, we must constantly seek to imitate our Lord in every way, especially in His Incarnation. Christ did become a “child” who was welcomed by some but rejected by others and those who rejected Him failed to see that they had rejected the Heavenly Father who had sent Him.

In contrast to the blueprints provided by life coaches on how to be successful and getting ahead in life, this passage provides us with a blueprint for an incarnational discipleship. Firstly, we are all called to follow the example of His great humility in coming down from heaven to earth (Phil 2: 5-8). We are to be like Christ in His Incarnation in the amazing self-humbling which lies behind the Incarnation.

Secondly, we are to be like Christ in His service. We move on now from His Incarnation to His life of service; from His birth to His life, from the beginning to the end, from His birth to the Last Supper and finally, to His death on the cross.

Thirdly, we are to be like Christ in His love. Love is the wisdom from above. As St James teaches: “the wisdom that comes down from above is essentially something pure; it also makes for peace, and is kindly and considerate; it is full of compassion and shows itself by doing good; nor is there any trace of partiality or hypocrisy in it.”

So, rather than seek to be ahead of others and be envious of those who seem to do better, let us learn to be more Christ-like. But this begs the question: is it attainable? In our own strength it is clearly not attainable, but God has given us His Holy Spirit to dwell within us, to change us from within. As long as we hold on to our prideful stubbornness, it would remain humanly impossible. But if we assume the attitude of a child filled with awe and wonder, a hapless child who cannot do things for himself but rely on the strength and help of others, all things are possible with God!

The Hospitality of God

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

What seems to be the most common comparison made between Catholic parishes and Protestant churches is that the former lack the warmth and hospitality which you can readily experience in the latter. This too has often been cited as the main reason why these Protestant churches appear to be more attractive than their Catholic counterparts. So, is offering better hospitality the solution to getting our Catholics to stay put and to attract more new members?

Hospitality in the ancient world was much more than politeness or friendliness. In an age when inns were few and far between, travelers had to rely upon the hospitality of strangers to aid them in their journeys. Hospitality was also a way to survive in a culture where political boundaries were in constant flux.

Before dismissing this as pure superficiality, let us consider what the readings have to say about hospitality? It is clear that hospitality is more than just a five-star personal butler service by your team of wardens, or getting a Louis Vuitton door gift bag when you are identified as a first timer, or you are feted with a standing ovation by the whole congregation or a cheerful welcoming ditty led by the choir. Hospitality means more than welcoming people and making them feel at home. It means more than being friendly and generous, especially toward strangers. The theme of hospitality in the readings is more nuanced.

In the first reading, we have the story of how a pagan, a Shunammite woman, shows remarkable hospitality to the prophet Elisha and is rewarded with “a prophet’s reward,” the gift of life to one who was barren, the epitome of God’s graciousness. Though not part of the biblical account, a Jewish midrash narrates how Elisha performs a second miracle which resurrects this woman’s son at her behest when he died prematurely due to an accident. In another midrashic account, the son of the Shunammite woman comes back to life twice, once when he dies in the field and Elisha revives him, as is related above; and a second time, after the death of Elisha when his corpse comes into contact with the prophet’s bones. So, the story is not just an illustration of the promise of our Lord in the gospel, that “anyone who welcomes a prophet will have a prophet’s reward; and anyone who welcomes a holy man will have a holy man’s reward” but also a prefiguration of the greater “reward” which the Lord promises to all who welcome Him and His disciples, which is the gift of the resurrection.

This is what St Paul wishes to convey to the Romans in the second reading: “When we were baptised in Christ Jesus we were baptised in his death; in other words, when we were baptised we went into the tomb with him and joined him in death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the Father’s glory, we too might live a new life.” By our baptism into Christ’s death, His death becomes ours. Christ’s story becomes our story. Christ’s strength becomes our strength. Christ’s body becomes our body. Christ’s risen life becomes our risen life. This is the greatest gift of hospitality - salvation. And for this reason, those who welcome us also welcomes the One who sent us because they will be welcoming Christ. We, by virtue of our baptism, are that other Christ!

And finally, we come to the gospel. Christ is the ultimate paradigmatic model of a virtuous life. Christ is not just one priority among many. He is the priority which supersedes all other priorities - in fact, He is the absolute priority over the closest family ties, over life and finally over possession of one’s own self. But this priority comes with a unique privilege and reward - the servant or envoy is placed on par with the principal. How the servant or delegate is treated is equivalent to how the principal is treated. There are not two different standards, one for the subordinate and one for the superior, but one single standard for both. This is at the heart of the mystery of Incarnation - that God became man - and this too is the very essence of the mystery of redemption - Christ took our place on the cross, and by His resurrection, we who die in Him will also rise with Him. The glory which He reaped on the cross and by His death is for us to enjoy too.

So, one can see that hospitality goes even deeper than good manners and kindness shown to a stranger or a visitor. It is, in effect, what God has done in the person and work of Jesus Christ for the salvation of His bride. In fact, the whole of the bible and salvation history can be understood in terms of divine hospitality. From the moment God placed Adam in a garden which the latter had not planted, to how He showed hospitality and offered protection to Abraham and his family, to how God gave the Israelites the Promised Land to call home, to finally preparing the heavenly city of God that welcomes and provides eternal sanctuary to the righteous, we see scriptures revealing to us the primordial hospitality of God, in contrast to the inhospitality brought about by man’s sin.

We see a similar pattern in the life of Christ. The inhospitality that Jesus encounters from the time of His birth, when there was no room for Him in the inn (Lk 2:7), and when Herod tried to do away with Him (Mt 2:13), He continues to encounter throughout His entire lifetime. He came to His own, and His own people did not accept Him (Jn 1:11). Our Lord counters the inhospitality of the human heart with the hospitality of His heavenly Father. In the light of the crucified and risen Christ, the community of Christian faith proclaims that God, the Host of the world, has given us His Son and Spirit, to transform an inhospitable humankind into His own hospitable image and likeness.

So, in a world of deep and divisive hostility like ours today, we truly believe a recapturing of the understanding and practice of biblical hospitality to be a key component of renewal of our parishes. Hospitality is not optional to the Christian life. Our souls are measured by, among other things, how faithfully we provide hospitality to others. According to Christ, it is one of the conditions for salvation: “I was a stranger and you made me welcome” (Mt. 25:35). We might tend to think of hospitality as the sole realm of the minister of hospitality or front desk parish secretary. But the warmest greeting by a warden can be immediately undone by a parishioner’s harsh word or dirty look. The only way parishes become beacons of hospitality is for all of us to make hospitality our responsibility. When everyone in a parish is welcoming, serving, blessing and being blessed, offering others the greatest gift which is the gift of salvation, then we can be sure that when we meet Jesus, He will show us the greatest hospitality by saying, “Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Mat 25:34).

He sees you

Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

As I grow older and as my vision grows dimmer, more things seem to fall off my field of vision. I’ve learnt to excuse myself for this for the sake of preserving my sanity and assuring myself that this is part of the natural process of aging. It does seem frustrating, especially to others because my lack of cognisance may suggest that I really don’t care.

Many of us suspect God is like that too - that He doesn’t see us because we are just too insignificant, which is to say that He doesn’t care. But I think today’s readings tell us who God really is. He’s not a God who loves from afar. He’s a God who cares about the details of our lives. Nothing is too small to present to Him. Nothing escapes His attention, His care, and His love. God is never too busy, He is never too big and important, He is never too foggy for being more ancient than the universe, to miss out on anything. The author of the Book of Wisdom acknowledges this: “In your sight, Lord, the whole world is like a grain of dust that tips the scales, like a drop of morning dew falling on the ground. Yet you are merciful to all, because you can do all things and overlook men’s sins so that they can repent.”

In comparison to its creator, the entire universe is a mere “grain of dust” or “a drop of morning dew,” yet nothing happens without the Lord’s knowledge. The reason for God’s vigilance is not brought on by His intention to police us and catch us at our weakest moment but because He loves us. The author of Wisdom confidently professes this: “since if you had hated something you would not have made it.” And yet the God who misses nothing, overlooks nothing, forgets nothing, is willing to overlook our sins in His mercy, should we repent.

This is what we see in the gospel. We have the familiar story of Zacchaeus and his conversion. In this, the final turning point in Luke's Gospel, we discover exactly what Jesus' mission on earth is - to seek and to save the lost. And we see it demonstrated beautifully in the life of a very extreme candidate, a hated chief tax collector. On account of his occupation and his collaboration with the Roman imperial forces, he was “a sinner” in the people’s estimation. What made Zacchaeus’s conversion more incredible was that he was also rich, given our Lord’s warning about the rich and how it would be almost impossible for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom of heaven by their own effort.

Most people fail to recognise that the story of Zacchaeus has a parallel in the story of the blind man of Jericho, which precedes today’s passage. As with the blind man by the roadside, Zacchaeus is also disadvantaged by his physical short stature and therefore must first overcome this disability to get to see the Lord. Zacchaeus must suffer the humiliation of climbing a sycamore tree to catch a glimpse of the Lord above the towering heads of the crowd. In both instances, the crowds posed an obstacle by keeping them from getting to the Lord. But in this case, the crowds posed no obstacle for the Lord. He misses nothing and sees everything. For the Lord, no one is lost in the crowd, nor is anyone reduced to a mere statistic.

Just like how our Lord ordered the crowd to bring the blind man to see Him, in today’s episode, the Lord commands Zacchaeus in this fashion: “Zacchaeus, come down. Hurry, because I must stay at your house today.” For the first time in the gospel our Lord demands hospitality. Our Lord’s request for hospitality is matched by His description of Zacchaeus: “this too is a son of Abraham.” This description would make sense if we remember that Abraham was renowned for his warm hospitality, a hospitality that was extended even to divine visitors.

The interplay between Zacchaeus, Jesus, and the crowd revolved around one issue: the worth of the sinner. The crowd rejected the sinner. In fact, rejection would be an overstatement because one has to be consciously aware of something before you can choose to reject it. Zacchaeus’ fell below the crowds’ radar but it never disappeared from our Lord’s. No one, no matter how small, no matter how insignificant in the eyes of the world, would disappear from God’s radar. He sees everyone, He knows everyone and He personally loves everyone.

The crowds had no place for Zacchaeus in their society. He might as well be the Invisible Man. But the Lord saw beyond the reticence of the crowd and the bravado of the tax man. The shepherd was willing to leave the 99 in order to seek out the lost. He had come for the sick and the sinner, not the healthy or righteous. Zacchaeus had been denied hospitality by his own brethren. He had little value in the eyes of his fellowmen, but he was of great worth in the eyes of the Lord. The Lord seeks to include the excluded in His Kingdom.

Here is the irony of the Divine Comedy, an irony of cosmic proportions: Zacchaeus had gone up a tree seeking Jesus, but it was Jesus who came down from heaven to the level of sinners and the marginalised, to seek Zacchaeus. As Jesus declared at the very end of today’s passage, “for the Son of Man has come to seek out and save what was lost.”

Today, let us heed the call of St Augustine who tells us, “Climb the tree on which Jesus hung for you, and you will see Jesus.” Today, we are invited to ascend the ‘Tree’, not the sycamore tree that Zacchaeus climbed. The sycamore tree reminds us of the Tree of Life, once denied to Adam and Eve when they fell into sin; the very Tree which now awaits us in the gardens of Paradise. It is the Tree on which our Saviour hung, the Cross, once barren and wintry but now burgeoning with new life, announcing a new springtime of the Resurrection. Our Lord climbed this tree, to open to us the way to return to the Father. The cross invites us to look at Jesus who looks back at us with those loving but piercing eyes, who sees our beauty despite the ugliness of sin, and who now invites us to see all things in Him, with Him and through Him. He is the light of the world, and in His light, we see light.

Even if we can’t face ourselves because of the shame we feel for our brokenness and sinfulness, even if we feel that no one sees us because of our unworthiness, we can be certain of this truth - God sees us, He knows us and He loves us. We name Him as did Hagar, the maidservant of Sarah, wife of Abraham: “El Roi” - “the God who sees me.” Nothing escapes the vision of God, not even when we have descended into the very depths of the abyss.

When God’s eyes gaze upon you, He sees the unique and precious child He created. He is right beside you in every step you take. God knows you right down to the number of hairs on your head. When God sees you, He sees Jesus who died for your sin. He sees you in the hard places. He sees you in the dark places. We are never left alone! God is faithful and is waiting to welcome you home and will accompany you even during hard and dark times, even when you can’t see what’s down the road or around the next bend.

God is revealed in our humility

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

It used to be quite easy to define virtue and to recognise a virtuous person. Virtue is moral excellence, goodness and righteousness. A virtuous person is one who possesses all these qualities. But in our society where social media and reality TV have become effective platforms of self-expression, and which have accorded everyone and anyone an opportunity to be a celebrity, true virtue has evolved into virtue signalling. What is virtue signalling? Virtue signalling is to be distinguished from real virtue. It is a performative action to broadcast to the world that "I am a good person.” Without realising it, most of us have a propensity to virtue signal. Thank God, I am blessed to have a close friend who is a reality checker and truth-sayer. He is all too willing to burst my delusional bubble and alert me if I am trodding down the path of self-promotion.

Today’s readings exalt the virtue of humility, not the superficial type of virtue signalling that many of the religious leaders were practising, but the real hard type that comes with a hard-line Christ and a tough form of Christianity. We all know that humility is a Christian virtue but many are often confused as to its meaning. Many people believe humility means self-denigration; in other words, being very critical of oneself, one’s own talents and achievements. The irony is this: whenever we put ourselves down, we actually expect to receive more praises for our achievements. Such humility is undeniably false humility and false humility is a mask for pride. The parable in today’s gospel is not just a lesson for a disguised narcissist to present a false front of self-effacement but rather speaks of every man’s relationship with God, the foundation of true humility.

The setting for today’s gospel is that of a Sabbath meal. As usual, the movements and speech of our Lord were under the scrutiny of both fans, as well as detractors. But in today’s gospel, our Lord would turn the tables on them. He is the One who is the careful observer. He makes a careful and poignant observation about the public behaviour of the Pharisees, who though wishing to be seen as self-effacing and altruistic, were actually quite ambitious and self-serving. After witnessing their jockeying around for the coveted seats, our Lord began to teach.

Our Lord raises two important points, one for the guests and another for the host. Firstly, He warns the guests against an undue sense of superiority. On the one level, His suggestion was a simple and universal advice on etiquette: never presume to take places of honour less you suffer the embarrassment and humiliation of being relegated to a lower position. But here, our Lord was not merely concerned with good manners nor should His sayings be reduced to advice about social graces. Rather, it is clear from the subsequent verses that our Lord was trying to lift the attention of His audience from etiquette to eschatology; not just places at the dining table, but places in the messianic banquet. Of greater concern than their social status in the eyes of others, was their good standing in the eyes of God.

The key to truly gaining honour and earning the pleasure of God lies in humility. As the first reading reminds us, “the greater you are, the more you should behave humbly, and then you will find favour with the Lord, for great though the power of the Lord is, he accepts the homage of the humble.” The person who asserts his or her own importance has already been rewarded with the fleeting and dubious dignity that self-assertion brings. But a single moment of limelight may cost one to suffer a lifetime or even worse, an eternity of derision. Once again, the sin of presumption is their undoing. Again, Ecclesiasticus warns us, that “there is no cure for the proud man’s malady, since an evil growth has taken root in him.” The honest person, however, who recognises the greatness of God as well as his or her own lowliness and needs, will one day share the honour of union with the Lord at the heavenly banquet that never ends.

After having admonished the guests, our Lord turns His attention to the host. No one is spared, not even the good host who had just feted the Lord. Most likely, the Pharisee into whose home Jesus had been invited, had invited others like himself: friends, relatives and those with wealth whose presence would reflect well on the host and his household. All those invited would have been able, and indeed, would have been expected to reciprocate the favour by inviting the host to dine at their respective homes. In the light of this social give-and-take, Jesus’ advice must have seemed shocking and even ridiculous. To invite the beggars, the crippled, the blind and the lame would be to entertain those from whom one could expect no recompense or reciprocation. Such persons would not have brought prestige to the household by their presence. In fact, they would have brought shame to the host, who would be seen as associating himself with the dregs and outcasts of society.

What is the common denominator that links both advices, the first to the guests and the second to the host? Both humility and giving should take the focus off ourselves. It’s not about us. The focus should always be on the Lord. Christianity is about Jesus Christ. He is at the centre of God’s salvation. Christianity is about following Him and declaring our allegiance to Him. It is making Christ known and not just self-promotion. Christianity is not about us. It has something wonderful to say to us, but it is not first and foremost about us. It is not man-centred but God-centred and Christ-centred. This is foundational and basic to the practice of the virtue of humility. This is precisely what is so wrong with the cult of personality - it places man on the pedestal and makes him larger than life, in fact so large as to eclipse God.

Christian humility doesn’t call one to demean oneself for its own sake. Any performative act to showcase one’s humility is hypocrisy and it is quite the opposite of what humility stands for. True humility is a call to recognise one’s total dependence on God and leaves the matter of rank and reward completely to Him. The humble man finds favour with the Lord, not because it is a form of reward, but because the humble man allows God to do what he himself cannot do. The humble man veils himself so that the glory of God may be revealed. Therefore, to take the lowest place is never just to earn honour, respect or even praise from others. To take the lowest place, would be to find ourselves in that very place where Christ had chosen to sit, He who is God, assumed the lowest position of a worthless slave. To give without expecting anything in return would mean that we do not serve, or give, to derive some earthly gain and benefit from our investment, but rather, be assured that what often seems to be a thankless job, will receive its reward from God in heaven.

Welcome to the Lord's table

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

One of the most famous of all Russian icons by the great 15th century Russian iconographer, Andre Rublev, is a beautiful and compelling visual expression of the passage we’ve just heard in the first reading that describes Abraham’s hospitality to three travellers. Although the icon is most commonly titled by our Orthodox brethren as “the Hospitality of Abraham,” it is better known in the West as the icon of the Most Holy Trinity. How can we reconcile these two seemingly irreconcilable epithets? The first title seems to focus on the action of Abraham as the main actor, whereas the second focuses on the Three persons of the Most Holy Trinity. The most obvious connexion between these two realities is that the number of travellers whom Abraham welcomes, corresponds to the number of persons which make up the Divine Trinity. But is that all?

Very early on, Christian exegetes noted that even though there were three travellers who showed up at Abraham’s tent, when he prostrated before them, he addressed them in the singular as Adonai, “Lord,” a title which is used to address God in a most reverential way to avoid naming Him. Some commentators interpreted Abraham’s greeting to mean that one of the visitors was God, and that He was accompanied by two angels. However, the interpretation that became classic was that Abraham’s three visitors were the three persons of the Most Holy Trinity, whom he believed in as the One true God. There is a concise Latin dictum which captures this truth: “Tres vidit, unum adoravit” — He saw three, he adored one.

We can now see how the passage is not just a story of Abraham’s hospitality offered to his visitors, but more importantly, it is the hospitality offered by the three visitors, presumably the Most Holy Trinity, to Abraham. Yes, the theme of hospitality strings together both the first reading and the Gospel, but whose hospitality you may ask?

To find an answer to this riddle, it would be good to look at the first reading through the lenses of Rublev’s icon. The icon, being a window into the unseen world by using symbols from the visible world, shows us something amazing which we would normally miss in our reading of the passage from Genesis. In the famous Icon of this scene, the hospitality of Abraham, you can see the three figures sitting at the table, but you can’t see Abraham. The table is rectangular with four sides. Three sides are occupied by each of the angelic figures but the fourth side, the side closest to the viewer is empty. There is room at the table for another. That space is welcoming Abraham in, welcoming us in, to sit at the table with God, the Most Holy Trinity.

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

And this is how we should read and understand the dynamics of the two sisters, Mary and Martha, in today’s Gospel passage. Our Lord is in the home of Martha and Mary, and the story seems to be another tale of misguided hospitality. Most people would just notice the obvious: Mary listens to Jesus but Martha is distracted by the tasks of the world.

But there is more to the story than meets the eye. First, Martha isn’t just distracted by the cares of the world. Luke says she is distracted by something very specific. She’s distracted by diakonia… ministry. It’s where we get the word “deacon”. Martha isn’t distracted by looking up the latest fashions nor busy pursuing a career like a 21st century modern woman. She’s distracted by something which is really important. Ministering to others. She was distracted, ironically, by her desire to serve. Distractions come in all forms – sometimes by things which seem blatantly frivolous and selfish, and sometimes even by the things that appear selfless.

Second, does the Lord actually criticise her because she is distracted by her work? Let us look at His words: “Martha, Martha,’ He said ‘you worry and fret about so many things, and yet few are needed, indeed only one. It is Mary who has chosen the better part; it is not to be taken from her.” His point—one of them, at least—is that hospitality does not consist in impressing our guests with how much we are doing for them, but in our willingness simply to be present to them and to listen to what they have to say. Martha, if you think about it, is doing exactly what Abraham was doing… offering the Lord some refreshment. The thing she has missed, is what the Lord really wants from her and from us… our love and our complete attention. This is what Mary does and what she is praised for. She allows the Lord to serve her with His teaching and presence.

Both of these apparently simple but exceedingly profound biblical stories offer a guiding word to Christians who yearn and thirst for hospitality, as we struggle to offer the warmth of hospitality to others. So, what should we do? Should we make like Abraham and Martha to scramble to serve our God who lives among us? No. Remember Mary who sat at the feet of the Lord. If you think the Christian faith is about doing enough to earn God’s love… then you’ve completely missed the point. The astounding paradoxical truth is this: we don’t serve God. God serves us. We don’t need to feed God. God feeds us. We don’t need to provide for God. God provides for us. We don’t need to protect God. God heals and holds us in our brokenness. We don’t need to sacrifice to God. God has already sacrificed Himself for us.

At this and every Eucharist, God invites us to the altar of His perfect sacrifice, to the meal which is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, to have a seat at the table and share in the fellowship of the Most Holy Trinity. It is here where we will be fed, we will be refreshed, and where we are saved. As we nervously approach the altar, fully aware of our unworthiness, we hear the Lord who beckons to us, as how He had gently spoken to Abraham, Mary and Martha: Come… sit down… and taste. Fret no longer in what you can do but pay attention to what I can do for you. With me you will learn love. With me you will discover life. With me you will find a most welcoming eternal home.

Pruned to bear even more

 Fifth Sunday of Easter Year B

We often have the impression that St Paul’s transition, from a zealous persecutor of Christians to become the Church’s greatest missionary and preeminent theologian, founding countless churches in the process of his arduous journeys and tireless preaching, was easy and uneventful after the initial dramatic event of his conversion on the road to Damascus. The first reading taken from the Acts of the Apostles debunks this myth and gives us an entirely different picture.

The indifference, cold reception and even opposition which St Paul faced in the early Christian community and with its leadership is understandable. His motives were still unclear and his conversion still a subject of doubt and questioning by those whom he had once hunted and persecuted. Given the negative reception he received from the Christian community in the early years of his new found faith, many of us would have wondered why he chose to stay, what would have motivated him to persevere, even tolerating insults and putting up with humiliation at the hands of fellow Christians. I believe that many would have walked out for a much lesser offence. I’m sure you’ve heard a number of anecdotal stories from ex-Catholics who cite hurts, hostility and inhospitality as some of the reasons for leaving the Catholic Church.

Was there something the Church could have done to prevent their leaving? Could the Church learn how to be more hospitable and accommodating, less demanding? Now, there is nothing wrong with hospitality. Having a welcoming spirit is always welcomed. But should hospitality compromise the truth? Should this mean that we have to insulate and protect all our members and bubble wrap them and their feelings to keep them from being hurt or offended? Should we make Christianity less demanding and more accommodating?

I believe you already know the answer and it’s an unpopular one. Let us look at the person of St Paul or Saul, as he was known in our first reading. The experience of St Paul, being rejected by his own community and later subjected to all kinds of trials and hardship, was not just a natural outcome of his sudden conversion, but a necessary part of his spiritual journey. His conversion did not end on the road to Damascus; it had only begun. It is as if every branch that bore no fruit had to be cut away, every stalk that did bear fruit had to be pruned to make it “bear even more.” These experiences would eventually shape his mission and preaching. He would rather risk being unpopular and even being beaten, then to bend and soften the gospel to accommodate the sensitivities of his audience.

St Paul’s resilience could be in part, be the result of his understanding and assimilating today’s gospel into his life. Our Lord, in introducing Himself as the Vine and we the branches, explains that there are two necessary conditions if we wish to bear fruit from this relationship. The first condition is to “remain”, or in some translations “abide”, in Him. Cut off from Him, we are nothing and we “can do nothing.” Our strength, our fecundity, our effectiveness, wholly depends on Him and is derived from Him.

But there is a second condition to this Master-disciple, Vine-branch relationship. Remaining is just the first prerequisite but there is the second element of pruning. In fact, pruning and remaining corresponds with the two-fold invitation of our Lord to all potential disciples: “Repent and believe in the gospel;” and in another place, “deny yourself .... and follow me.” In the traditional description of the three stages of spiritual development, the purgative, the illuminative and the unitive, the purgative corresponds with the pruning and the remaining corresponds with the illuminative and unitive stages. But pruning is not just meant for some, for beginners on the spiritual journey. It is meant for every one and needed for every stage of our spiritual journey. Listen to what our Lord says: “Every branch in me that bears no fruit he cuts away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes to make it bear even more.”

Notice that it is not only those who are barren, who are fruitless, who would need pruning, but also those who are bearing fruit, because such pruning will allow them to “bear even more.” When the pruning stops, even when a tree starts to bear fruit, it may soon become barren unless the pruning continues. We see in this wonderful analogy, the necessity of pain and suffering in nurturing growth. Pain is to a disciple’s spiritual growth, what pruning is to the development of a fruit on a tree. Pruning is not a punishment for a Christian; it is a reward. Spiritual pruning enhances spiritual growth by removing whatever inhibits spiritual growth. As Victor Hugo wrote, “adversity makes men, prosperity makes monsters.” When children are shielded from adversity, they end up becoming spoilt entitled brats.

But isn’t freedom from pain and suffering the ultimate goal of Christian life? In fact, many Christians pursue Christian discipline precisely because they wish to be blessed by God and be preserved from trouble and danger. I believe most Christians have gotten it wrong in this area, which explains how common it is for Christians to complain that God has been unfair to them - good people seem to have it tough whereas bad people seem to flourish and do well. Such complaints betray a misconception in theology, especially in understanding the place of suffering in a Christian’s life.

Freedom from pain and suffering is a promise of a Christian’s future glorification; but pain and suffering are a part of his present sanctification. No pain no gain. In this life, the cross is a necessary part of our spiritual journey. The pain of spiritual pruning is not the result of a malicious and sadistic God who loves watching us suffer, rather such pain arises from our inordinate attachments, our inability to let go of the things which inhibit our spiritual growth. When these things which we are attached to are removed from our lives, we are enhanced, not diminished. Whenever the Lord prunes us, we lose a part of ourselves, but it’s the part we can do without - our pride, our stubbornness, our selfishness, our greed, our ambitions, our need for approval. But in doing so, our attachment to Him the Vine, becomes strengthened and because of the tightening of this bond, we are enriched in virtue and grace.

So, the next time you encounter adversity or difficulty, do not resist or run away or complain. Instead, welcome it as a blessing. Obediently and patiently submit to the pruning hand of the Vine Dresser. Don’t just settle for what is easier, more convenient, more comfortable, less demanding. Rather, give to God your best and your greatest – Deo Optimo Maximo – knowing that whatever He has pruned from your life, will not make you poorer but richer, it will not make you weaker but stronger, it will not make you smaller but greater. As how the Lord promised St Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor 12:9)

Divine Hospitality

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

“From Hostility to Hospitality”. A few years ago, our parish adopted this tagline as one of two focal projects for our parish transformation and renewal. When I first mooted it, I could sense the reticence and tension within the room. Should I even be surprised by this response if “hostility” were not an accurate assessment of our parish condition? How have we fared since then? Well, I jokingly tell Fr Dominic and some of the leaders, instead of growth in hospitality, after repeated goading and “instigation” from the Parish Priest, we seem to have made progress, “From Hostility to Greater Hostility.” I acknowledge that I must also take some blame for this, for either causing more hostility through my policies or words, or failing, through omission, to handle the hostility in a more expedient or prudent manner.

It is interesting how hospitality and hostility sound so much alike but yet are so different. Other than the first three letters, they are clearly opposites. “Hospitality” conjures up the context of guests, visitors, putting on meals for them, providing board and lodging, and making the stranger feel “at home.” Hostility, on the other hand, is about keeping the other at a safe distance and even putting up barriers and walls to keep them out. Yes, it is easy to be hospitable towards those who are being hospitable towards us. However, in these past few years as a priest, I have been reminded that being hospitable to those who are being hostile is difficult and challenging.

In today’s gospel scene, we see both hostility and hospitality. Martha is resentful. She is hostile towards her sister’s lackadaisical attitude for leaving her to do all the work. Most of us would emphatise with poor Martha. We can understand her resentment - some seem to be doing an unfair share of the work whilst others seem to be lazing around or are able to find all sorts of excuses to escape work. The irony of this story is that this tension or hostility arises between the two sisters as a result of their different ways of showing hospitality to the Lord who has come visiting. Martha shows it by her busy-ness in the kitchen whereas Mary displays her form of hospitality by sitting at the feet of the Lord. Sound of light banter and even cheerful laughter drifting into the kitchen where Martha was busy slaving over the stove, would have incensed even a saint.

Martha had not chosen anything bad. In fact, she had chosen something very good. But yet our Lord commended Mary for having made the better choice. Yes, serving others is a characteristic feature of being a disciple of Christ. But there is more to this. Listening to our Lord, being attentive to the saving words of the Lord, the Word Incarnate, being “served” by Him, is far more important. That is why the Lord chided Martha with these seemingly harsh words, “you worry and fret about so many things, and yet few are needed, indeed only one.” Only one thing that is needful and Mary had chosen that one crucial, absolutely necessary thing. She sat at His feet and listened with great eagerness, affection and pleasure. Mary chose to listen not just to the words of Jesus but to the life-giving, death defying, saving Incarnate Word of God. It is by sitting at Jesus' feet that we learn that He is the one who has come to serve and not be served. It is at His feet that we truly grasp His work of redemption – by taking our sins of inhospitality, by dying for the ones who rejected Him and refused hospitality to Him, He offered us the hospitality of heaven. It is at the feet of our Lord that we learn the real lesson of hospitality from the One who is the perfect host. To do other things at the expense of sitting at the Lord’s feet is to let good things get in the way of better things.

Here is the true paradox of the story – whilst Martha was asking what she could do for the Lord, Mary knew the correct question should be “what can the Lord do for her?” The host becomes the guest and the guest the host. It is interesting to note that the Italian word “ospite” can mean both “guest” and “host.” This certainly presents us English-speakers with some confusion. How can we make the distinction when we are talking about the host (the one who welcomes you in his home, the one who is busy in the kitchen as the rest of us sit at the table) and the guest (the one who rings the doorbell and waits for the door to be opened, the one who waits to be served, the one who needs directions to find the bathroom)? After all, don't we need a word that distinguishes the one who gives hospitality from the one who receives hospitality? But in this story, we are reminded that there should be such confusion. The author to the Hebrews tells us “let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it” (Heb 13:1-2). Hospitality flows both ways. No hosts, no guests, only “ospiti” - hospitality.

The host becomes the guest and the guest becomes the host. This is the power of biblical hospitality. God’s call to love the stranger is an invitation to experience God in a new way. It is a way that brings about radical transformation, changes lives and introduces surprises. People usually don't expect surprises. Yet biblical hospitality, the call to love the stranger, guarantees that a surprise is just around the corner. The guest becomes the host. Givers receive more than they give. This is the story of Abraham welcoming three guests, who turned out to be divine visitors. In return, God shows hospitality to Abraham by rewarding Sarah with a son.

The story of Martha and Mary and Jesus therefore should be considered in this same light. Here, we are not celebrating the hospitality of a man (or a woman), but the very hospitality of God. In fact, St Luke portrays the life and ministry of Jesus as a divine “visitation” to the world, seeking hospitality. The One who comes as visitor and guest becomes host and offers a hospitality in which the entire world can become truly human, be at home, and know salvation in the depths of their hearts. Those in St Luke's Gospel who readily offer hospitality - chiefly the sinner, the marginalised and the poor - find themselves drawn into a much deeper sphere of hospitality, the hospitality of God. They may have welcomed the Lord into their homes and to their tables, but it is the Lord who has welcomed them into His heart as they opened their hearts to Him. They are challenged by the Lord to conversion so that no one may be left out of the banquet of life to which God calls all mankind.

In a culture of hectic schedules and the relentless pursuit of productivity, we are tempted to measure our worth by how busy we are, by how much we accomplish, or by how well we meet the expectations of others. Sometimes, we believe that we can earn God’s favour through the busyness of our devotion and service. Such activity often leaves us anxious and troubled and we end up with a kind of service that is devoid of love and joy and resentful of others. But then we are reminded once again by the story of Martha, Mary and our Lord that what is ultimately important is not what you can do for the Lord but, what can He do, or what has He done for you. And that is only possible when we are able to transcend our busy and distracted lives and enter into prayerful contemplation of His Word. We can never claim to be able to offer true hospitality to a stranger or even our neighbour or family member, if we continue to be aliens to the hospitality of God. God is always inviting, patiently waiting for us to sit at His feet.

At His feet, we are reassured once again that we are His children, we are renewed in faith and strengthened for service. God wants to play host to us. Our Lord offers us the hospitality of His grace. In Him, we find ourselves now to be, the enemy who has been forgiven, the sinner who is saved, the stranger who is welcomed, the alienated one who has found a home. In Him, and only in Him, can hostility become hospitality.