So be it!

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

“Amen”, perhaps the most common Hebrew word apart from “Alleluia” used by Catholics. We utter it at the end of every prayer, we insert it in the comments of social media as if it is some kind of religious “like” click, and we utter it before holy communion just after the priest or the extraordinary minister of holy communion holds up the consecrated host and announces, “the Body of Christ.” Our repetition and common usage have certainly resulted in many trivialising the true significance of this simple and yet deeply profound word. Amen means “so be it.” Or another way of saying “it is true” or “I agree.”

Amen is thus an acclamation of faith and commitment, just like how Joshua insisted that the Israelites must renew and restate their commitment to the covenant. He declared openly to the people: “as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord,” which inspired the people to also make their own commitment and promise: “we too will serve the Lord, for He is our God.” In a way, both Joshua and the Israelites were giving their assent of “Amen” to the covenant, undertaking to serve the Lord.

The scene in the first reading is deliberately chosen as a parallel to the gospel. Just as Joshua challenged the Israelites to make up their minds whether or not they intended to remain loyal to the Lord, in the same way our Lord challenges the disciples at the end of the Bread of Life discourse to make up their minds if they wish to stick with Him regardless of the mass exodus of others bailing out when push comes to shove. The similarity is not only a challenge to loyalty, but specifically to covenant loyalty, to not only assent to what He has taught but to His very person. Can they and will they accept the truth that Jesus is indeed the Bread of Life from heaven and unless one eats His flesh and drinks His blood, they will have no part in His life? It is the final ultimatum given to them.

It is clear from today’s passage that many chose to walk away. If the Lord had just met their material needs of having a leader and an endless supply of food, they would have been happy to follow Him. But in matters of faith, unlike a democracy, we don’t get to choose our Messiah. God chooses those whom we need, very seldom not those whom we want. He’s the anointed One of God whom God calls, chooses and sends. Even as our Lord begins to describe the type of Messiah that He is, the people are not able to accept Him on these terms. They find His teachings “intolerable” and refused to accept them.

Over the years, we know of many Catholics, fellow parishioners who have chosen to walk out of church and to walk away from the Catholic faith. There is a myriad of reasons or excuses given. They have been insulted by someone; they have had their requests turned down; certain rules do not square with them; the music for the Masses and the homilies are boring and not engaging. Ultimately, any one of these things are deemed “intolerable,” and so they choose to leave.

Often, as a parish priest, I have been advised and told by others to address their concerns and accede to their requests, to somehow bend backwards, if necessary, to get them to return. Reaching out to those who are lost or who have chosen to walk away must always be a priority as we are called to seek the lost like the good shepherd after the heart of Jesus. But if this means lowering the bar of morality, bending the rules, stifling the teachings of the Church and making exceptions for the sake of friendship alone and nothing else, I too have made my decision and have taken a stand. I will not back down because Jesus did not. He didn’t pull back His challenging words, in fact, He chose to double down! Ultimately, I would work to convince these people to return for only one reason - only Christ, the Holy One of God, the one truly, really and substantially present in the Eucharist, can offer us “the message of eternal life” and “food which endures for eternity”. And if they should return and remain with the Church, that should be the only reason that matters.

You too may be considering leaving for one of many reasons. When people speak of being upset and disappointed with the Church, they are most likely expressing their disappointment and anger with members of the Body of Christ, the Church. This could mean any other person sitting in the pew, or a person serving in the parish or even the priest. But I would like to repeat one important truth which St John Paul II taught in his encyclical “Ecclesia de Eucharistia”: “The Church draws her life from the Eucharist. This truth does not simply express a daily experience of faith, but recapitulates the heart of the mystery of the Church… For the most holy Eucharist contains the Church's entire spiritual wealth: Christ himself, our Passover and living bread.” If you choose to walk away from the Church, you are walking away from Christ.

Today, our Lord is asking you and me the same question He asked Peter: “What about you, do you want to go away too?” Simon Peter answered, ‘Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life, and we believe; we know that you are the Holy One of God.’ Thank you, Simon Peter. Thank you for asking the question that matters most. And thank you for giving us the only answer which matters most.

Before we receive our Lord Jesus Christ who is truly, really and substantially present in the Eucharist, we too are given an ultimatum - we are challenged to make an assent of faith, a declaration of our commitment to our Lord and an acceptance of what He tells us as true. Our “Amen” is not a demand that Christ and the Church must comply with our every demand, whim or fancy. Saying “Amen” means that we will accept the Lord on His terms and commit ourselves to transformation just as how bread and wine is changed into the Body and Blood of Christ. “Amen” is saying “I will change!” Saying “Amen,” means we assent to our faith with our head and heart and will, that what we are about to receive is truly, really and substantially the Body of Christ. Not only do we believe in the real presence but we also commit ourselves to living and acting as Jesus did and does. St Augustine tells us: “You reply ‘Amen’ to that which you are, and by replying, you consent... Be a member of the body of Christ so that your ‘Amen’ may be true!”

The Myth of Pastoral Charity

Solemnity of Christ the King Year A

There has been heated discussion of late as to whether one could depart from settled doctrine and revealed truth in Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition by citing the all-encompassing tag phrase of modern times - pastoral charity. In other words, some would argue that the controversial moral issues of our times, including blessing same sex marriages and admitting women into holy orders, would be non-issues if we shift away from focusing on orthodoxy - right teaching - and start focusing more on orthopraxis - right practice based on pastoral charity. So, what exactly is pastoral charity? Can it be so powerful that it can justify the setting aside of truth in the name of kindness and solicitude? It is interesting that we can find our answer in today’s reading.

Let’s first examine the word “pastoral,” which comes from the Latin “pastor,” which means shepherd. The first reading gives us an excellent exposition of the work of the Shepherd King who is God. The Old Testament prophecy of Ezekiel that God will judge “between sheep and sheep, between rams and he-goats” is fulfilled in our Lord’s parable in the gospel. Although the element of judgment is found in both readings, Ezekiel’s prophecy broadens the scope of the shepherd king’s job:
He will keep all, and not just some, of his sheep in view;
He will rescue them whenever they have been scattered in mist and darkness;
He will pasture them and show them where to rest;
He will “look for the lost one, bring back the stray, bandage the wounded and make the weak strong;
He shall watch over the fat and healthy (I guess in our day and age, these two categories point to different categories at both ends of a spectrum);
Then the Lord makes this promise: “I shall be a true shepherd to them.”

When we examine the roles of the shepherd, we notice that it does not include making his sheep happy or contented in their delusion. In fact, the work of the shepherd is to challenge that very delusion and falsehood of their choices which will lead them astray in the first place. The Shepherd does not leave them to their own devices. He goes in search of them. He restores them to their home. He heals those who are wounded instead of allowing the wounds caused by sin to fester and threaten the life of the sheep. This is what it means to be “pastoral.” The shepherd is not just contented in making his sheep feel good. He challenges them so that they strive to be good, in fact, to be the best version of themselves.

How about the second word in this popular expression commonly used by many in these times - charity? For that, we must turn to the gospel. The parable of judgment in the gospel moves away from these images of the shepherd king and now seems to draw us into the narrative by ascribing to us the very responsibilities which the Shepherd King has promised to undertake. The Shepherd King is not abdicating His responsibility and authority but expecting us to act in imitation of Him. We must imitate Him in charity.

The description of the Last Judgment in the twenty-fifth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel would shock many people if they were to read it. The principles in accordance with which Christ will pronounce sentence are inescapably clear. Did you feed and clothe the poor for My sake, He will ask, because you recognised Me in them? If you have done so, you will certainly be saved. If you have neglected to do so, you will be condemned for all eternity. Christ does not ask about anything else, because everything else is subordinate to the precept of charity. Where there is charity, everything else follows. Where charity is lacking there is nothing else because Christianity is synonymous with charity. Charity, says St. Paul, “is the bond of perfection.” (Col. 3:14)

Our eternal salvation depends on our charity. But it must be charity in action, not merely in words. “He who has the goods of this world,” says St. John, “and sees his brother in need and closes his heart to him, how does the love of God abide in him?” (1st Epistle of St. John, 3:17) Charity must be expressed in almsgiving and good works, for otherwise it would be a matter of idle talk which would be powerless to save us.

Secondly, pastoral charity which ignores or, worse, contradicts God’s revealed truth is not charity, but pseudo-charity. Such abuse of one’s pastoral role would be the greatest affront to the queen of virtues. Kindness or tenderness have their place, but when they degenerate into confirming the faithful in the commission of mortally sinful acts become a cruel caricature of the love a pastor of the Church owes to sinners when they come to him.

Thirdly, our almsgiving should not be dictated simply by natural feelings of compassion, however, nor by mere philanthropy. It should be pre-eminently a religious act, springing from supernatural motives. Because we see the person of Christ in the poor man, we should love and help him as we should our Divine Redeemer, of Whose Mystical Body he is a suffering member. This is real Christian charity.

There is one act of charity which we can all perform, even if we are poor. We can pray for those who never pray, for hardened sinners, for heretics, for those who persecute the Church, for the Missions, for the sick and dying, and for the souls in Purgatory. And for the laity, it is of utmost importance to pray for your leaders – the Pope, our bishops and priests – that they may be “true shepherds” and not false ones who lead their flock astray.

On this feast, when we remember our youth, let us also be mindful of the Church which we wish to bequeath to them on behalf of Christ the King. In wanting the best for them and future generations of Catholics, let us not delude ourselves into thinking that we can “rebuild” the Church, because we may end up, in our hubris, remaking her in our image and likeness, a false bride, instead of the “spotless bride of the spotless Lamb” (Catechism of the Catholic Church 796). Let us never forget that it is Christ who makes the Church, who renews the Church and reforms the Church. We are in Christ grafted as a branch onto the vine, and Christ is in us, feeding, making, and renewing us. Our battle cry isn’t “Yes, we can. Yes, we can!” but “Christus vincit! Christus regnat! Christus imperat!” “Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands.” He alone shall be the true Shepherd to us all!

Dreaming and Believing

Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

Dreams can be so vivid and life-like. Psychologists speak of them as the voice of our subconscious crying out for attention, whereas certain primitive cultures view them as premonitions or messages from the gods. According to Jewish tradition and scriptures, God revealed Himself in dreams to biblical heroes, for example, Abram’s dream (Gn 15:12-13); Jacob’s dream at Bethel (Gn 28:12); Joseph’s dreams (Gn 37:5-9); the calling of Samuel (1 Sm 3:3-4) and Daniel’s dream (Dn 2:19). According to the great Jewish historian Josephus (Antiquities of the Jews 2.216-19), God promised Moses’ father in a dream that He would keep the infant Moses safe.

It is no wonder that St Matthew, with his keen interest in showing in his gospel that the Lord Jesus is the fulfilment of the Old Testament prophecies and expectations, utilises themes and literary devices from the Hebrew Scriptures. Among the gospels, the gospel of St Matthew alone provides us with accounts of life-changing dreams, where the dreamers were so convinced about the veracity of their dreams that they had no other choice but to follow them. You might notice that the Christmas story in the gospel of St Matthew is very different than the one in Luke. For here in Matthew, there are no shepherds, no sheep, no manger, no singing angels. Only in Matthew do we meet the magi, we see the star that guides them. Only in Matthew, do we hear about four dreams in the infancy narrative of Jesus (the fifth dream was dreamt by Pilate’s wife who then warned her husband to have nothing to do with Jesus, a warning that went unheeded). Dreams provide the tool by which God directs human affairs.

The first, third, and fourth set of dreams are given to St Joseph, the betrothed of the Virgin Mary. It’s no coincidence that St Joseph is a dreamer like his namesake and ancestor, the patriarch Joseph, who not only dreamt dreams but also interpreted them for others. Since the dreams of St Joseph are not part of today’s gospel reading, I will not trouble you with their details, except to say that they gave direction to St Joseph and his family.

The second dream in the series, comes to the magi at the end of today’s gospel - warning them not to return to Herod. They chose to defy the orders of Herod by obeying the commandment of God to return to their homeland by another way. History tells us that Herod the Great was a wicked, paranoid king, who though hailed by some as a great strategist and builder, but by others as a bloodthirsty insecure ruler. For political reasons, he even murdered three of his own sons. It would seem that our Epiphany narrative is no conspiracy theory but fits neatly into this description of the king. The magi had reason to fear he might target them once he found out where Jesus was born.

After their departure is recorded at the end of today’s gospel, the magi are no longer mentioned anywhere else in the gospels. If their sudden appearance in the storyline seemed almost dream-like, their disappearance would similarly be enigmatic, like a whiff of a dream going up in a magical puff of smoke.

We don’t have to look into the content of the magi’s dream to conclude that there is something magical and dream-like about the whole Christmas narrative and it is this magical element that has inspired both Christians and secular culture to expand on the Christmas story beyond the pages of scripture. The story of what happened to the wise men after they left Jerusalem has also been the stuff of legends.



Matthew does not give us the name of the Magi. The names of the Magi as Balthasar, Caspar, and Melchior, come to us from a 6th-century Greek manuscript. The tradition of chalking our homes also uses the initials taken from their traditional names. Extra biblical tradition also seems to present them as cosmopolitan representatives of the world, with each representing one of the three known continents of antiquity - Europe, Asia and Africa. In almost all modern representations of the Magi, Balthasar is depicted as Black, since he is said to be an African king. Caspar is Asian (said to be an Indian scholar or sage) and Melchior, a Persian (thus Arian) prince representing the white Europeans.

Tradition also has it that after discovering the “infant king of the Jews” (Mt 2:2) and paying Him homage, the Magi returned home, gave up their titles, distributed their property to the poor, and dedicated themselves to spreading the Gospel. Tradition also has it that the apostle St Thomas baptised them forty years later in India. There is also the tradition that tells us that St Thomas ordained them as priests in India and that they were martyred there.

Whether one chooses to believe in the veracity of these extra biblical traditions is not important. What is important is that the discovery of the Magi is real. Though directed by astrological calculations and mystical dreams, the reality that the “infant king of the Jews” who is also the Son of God is undisputed. What the Jewish priests and scribes should have seen by scouring the pages of scripture, the magi had discerned by looking at the stars and reading their dreams, as if these were the natural scriptures of God’s creation.

The impact that the Christ-child had on the Magi is deeply touching. This event completely transformed their lives. According to all these traditions, it was not merely a star that led them from that moment on, but rather, Jesus Christ. Jesus consumed their life and existence. The Magi are an invitation today to let Christ have the same impact on us. Are we wise like the Magi? Let our life tell that story! The depiction of the Magi as people of different colours and races helps us imagine a parish community as a global community. The Magi are the microcosm of a parish community. No one should ever feel unwelcome in a worshipping community. We know that this clearly was a problem in the early Church. In his Letter to the Ephesians, Paul struggles to convince the Jewish Christians that, “Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in Christ Jesus through the gospel” (Eph 3:5-6). The Magi bear witness to a global nature, indeed, the catholicity of the Catholic faith.

The Magi did homage to the Divine Child and then their lives became a witness to Him. Today, after we have woken up from the stupor of sleep and dreams, from two years of pandemic lockdowns and online Masses, let us resolve with excitement and new vigour to do homage to the same Christ, so that our lives too can be transformed and shine like the star that will lead others to Christ.

We need shepherds

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

This week I would like to revisit the theme of the priesthood. I know, it’s not Good Shepherd Sunday, but the readings are strung together by the common theme of shepherds – good and bad ones. In this regard, our Holy Father frequently warns against the dangers of clericalism. For those not familiar with the term – it is meant to be a pejorative label rather than a compliment. Because of the ambivalence of his context, we are not really sure who he is talking about. There will be some, after listening to the Holy Father’s scathing remarks about priests and seminarians who suffer from clericalism will feel vindicated that they were right in their assessment about Fr So-and-So or Bro-So-and-So. I know of many priests, present company included, who wonder, “Is the Holy Father talking about me?”

So, what is the sin of clericalism? Clericalism can be defined as an unnecessary or overly exaggerated importance attributed to the clergy, in such a way that the laity relate to them as subjects to be ruled, rather than a people to be lovingly pastored. From this definition, both laity and clergy could be equally guilty of clericalism. For the laity who suffers from clericalism, mission and discipleship are regarded as the exclusive domain of the professional religious class – priests, nuns and brothers. For the clergy, on the other hand, clericalism takes the form of ambition for status and rank, and an authoritarian abuse of power.

But in this age, when anti-establishment sentiments mark every level of society, where the Church and her position on moral issues are often regarded as backward and intolerant, would it be fair to accuse any priest of being guilty of clericalism purely on the basis of his ordination, the fact that he is a priest, and his fidelity to the Magisterium of the Church? Would clericalism be solved by a democratisation of the Church or the abandonment of her laws and teachings?

The truth of the matter is that the Church is always in need of shepherds. Our Lord confirms this at the end of today’s gospel. Yes, there are good shepherds and bad ones. In the first reading, the Prophet Jeremiah is asked to condemn the bad apples – those who are all about self-preservation, who allow the flock to be destroyed or scattered. But the Lord also makes a consoling promise through Jeremiah, that He will not allow bad shepherds to destroy His flock. In spite of the scandals that we see plaguing the Church, many of which stem from bad shepherds, we must firmly believe that the Church will not be abandoned to the tyranny of the wolves. The Lord promises to shepherd the flock. We see a fulfilment of this prophecy in today’s Gospel. Our Lord saw a great crowd and had compassion on them for they were like sheep without a Shepherd. Jesus, the Good Shepherd, immediately sprang into action. Moreover, He had promised in Jeremiah’s prophecy that He would “raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them.” The first wave of these new shepherds were the apostles.

The Lord’s first gesture of compassion was inviting these apostles to be with Him, to teach them how to be good sheep, to “come away” with Him and to “rest” in Him. These shepherds need to know the Lord, to love Him, before they can radiate His love contagiously to others who hunger and thirst for the Lord. Without prayer, without a relationship with Christ, mission and ministry could easily descend into activism and clericalism – when the minister forgets, that he has been sent by another and that he serves at the pleasure of another instead of his own.

The second gesture of our Lord’s compassion was shown to the crowds, in teaching them. In Matthew’s version of this incident, our Lord responds to the people’s need by healing the sick. But for Mark, our Lord exercises His saving power first and foremost, by teaching. Indeed, His teaching is healing, since it is the antidote to the poison of evil. At the same time, His teaching is feeding, since by proclaiming the Good News of the Kingdom, the Lord is satisfying their spiritual hunger. Notice that the story of the multiplication of the loaves follows immediately after this (Mark 7:35-44). Even before the Lord multiplies the loaves, the people are already feasting on a banquet of wisdom (Prov 9:1-5; Sir 15:3; 24:18-22). Our Lord is reminding us that to impart truth to someone is a great act of charity. In fact, to “instruct the ignorant,” is a spiritual work of mercy. This is why shepherds are meant to be teachers. When priestly ministry is translated into activism, when shepherds abdicate their responsibility to teach, we see the emergence of a new kind of clericalism which is more subtle but no less dangerous. 

Today, there is a clericalism that does not accentuate but blurs the line between clergy and laity. This is where priests begin to assume duties that are proper to the laity and where laity are clericalised to assume duties and ministries proper to the clergy. In other words, there is a reversal of roles - shepherds behaving like sheep and sheep behaving like shepherds. By encouraging this, are we telling the laity, your baptismal dignity is not good enough unless you start behaving and doing things like a ministerial priest?  Or are we saying to the priests, you are not inclusive or humble enough unless you behave like the average Joe?

Another subtle form of clericalism is flagrant disobedience to the Church’s Magisterium and disciplines in the name of being more pastoral. Fr Dominic often quips: when priest cites “pastoral reasons”, it is most likely “pastor’s reasons.” Instead, of submitting to the legitimate authority of the Magisterium, to the disciplines of the Church, such form of clericalism begins to impose its own brand of justice, ideologies, laws, and rubrics on the faithful. They are merely substituting the authority of the Church, for their own personal preferences.

And finally, there is a form of clericalism that has infected the celebration of the liturgy. According to Pope Benedict, when the priest “becomes the real point of reference for the whole liturgy. Everything depends on him… his creativity sustains the whole thing… Less and less is God in the picture.” The priest is now pivotal; his personal preferences and creativity (or lack of it) give form to the whole liturgy. This is the essence of clericalism - the priest becomes the focal point and centrepiece of the whole act of worship, instead of Christ.

I recall how difficult it was during the first few months after my ordination, to be addressed as “father.” I was embarrassed because the honorific seemed too privileged and showy. I was mistaken, of course. Years later, I would come to recognise the importance of that address – what it means to be a father. The title reminds me of the weighty responsibility of being a spiritual parent. It is a form of spiritual anonymity – a reminder that I no longer live for myself, I do so for others, I do so as an icon, a sacrament of the Heavenly Father, and of His Son, the Good Shepherd. Though clearly a sinner, I stand in the place of God Himself. It is indeed a privilege but more than anything, it is a great challenge and responsibility.

Today, let us continue to pray for the Shepherds of the Church. What the Church needs today are not shepherds who behave like wolves or even pretend to be lambs, but shepherds who can unite the community and break down barriers of hostility. Let us ask the Good Shepherd to “raise up shepherds to look after (the members of His Church) and pasture them, no fear, no terror for them any more; not one shall be lost.” 

Give them something to eat yourselves

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

After an exhausting day of public ministry, our Lord decides to withdraw and retire to a deserted place, hoping to escape the fawning crowds, recover from the fatigue and have time to commune with His Father. But instead of prayerful rest, He is confronted once again by the crowds who continue to trail Him and who refuse to leave Him alone. Instead of annoyance, Saint Matthew tells us that the Lord took pity on them. Saint Matthew’s words describe the tenderness and love that characterises a true Shepherd’s heart. We may sometimes sound tiresome even to our loved ones, especially when they have to put up with our whining, complaining and demands, but here’s the good news: God never tires of us. Here our Lord understood the hunger of the crowds and instead of just turning them away, He acts and He invites His disciples to do the same.

But there is a problem - a problem of limited resources and colossal needs, the perennial problem which plagues humanity. The Lord’s disciples point out this conundrum to the Lord and suggests this solution, ‘This is a lonely place, and the time has slipped by; so send the people away, and they can go to the villages to buy themselves some food.’ Logical and practical. But our Lord is adamant and counter proposes, ‘There is no need for them to go: give them something to eat yourselves.’ What a challenge? It would have been so much easier to just say, “This isn’t my problem”; “I can’t be the saviour of the world; I can’t solve every problem”; “People just have to learn how to take care of themselves.” But the Lord would not have any of these excuses. Instead, He enlists His disciples in the work of feeding the multitude. Our Lord, being God, could have done this on His own without their help but He chose not to. Instead, He deliberately chooses to involve them in His miraculous feeding.

They then retort with this reality check - they only have five loaves and two fish, to be shared among 5,000 men (not counting the women and the children). The feat, as noble as it sounds, is simply impossible! This problem would certainly resonate with those who are responsible for assigning seats for Mass every Sunday. They have to crack their heads in order to find solutions to accommodate the thousands who want to come to Church every week and to match this figure with the limited number of seats.

The juxtaposition of our Lord’s response and the disciples’ reaction presents us with two very different visions – a human and a spiritual one. The human vision recognises the problem, but assesses it based on these considerations – one’s ability and capacity to help and the availability of sufficient resources. There is nothing wrong with this. All good planning involves looking at what we possess before we commit to a project.

But our Lord provides us with another vision. A vision where He is fundamentally present and in charge. And when He is present, everything changes. Remember, that the Lord Jesus Christ is God, who is capable of not only performing miracles but there is nothing which He cannot accomplish or do. If disciples could not see beyond their inadequacies, our Lord is not limited in His vision. He sees the hunger of His people. He sees beyond the physical and material needs of persons. These things are important and necessary but man’s greatest need is spiritual. Our Lord can heal our bodies and fill our stomachs, but that is only a stopgap measure. What mankind needs more than a miracle worker or a philanthropist is a Saviour, because our greatest problem is not poverty, hunger or war, it is sin. And the Saviour chooses to enlist us in this grand work of salvation.

But what kind of people does He use? You would imagine that He would zoom in on the gifted, the resourceful or the rich. But He doesn’t. Instead, He takes anyone who is willing to risk sharing and trusting. In other words, any of us could be candidates of this grand scheme of His. How do we enlist? By yielding our littleness to the Master to use as He pleases. Our Lord tells us, “Bring them here to Me!” That’s the key! Give your inadequate resources and abilities to the Lord. The insufficient becomes more than sufficient when surrendered to Christ! We may think that we have nothing to offer, but the truth is that, all of us have something to offer – it’s just that it is inadequate. Jesus doesn’t ask you to give Him what you don’t have. He asks you to give Him what you do have. What Jesus did with this meagre supply of bread and fish is what He will do with us, warts, limitations, brokenness and all. If He can feed a multitude with that meagre ration, imagine what He could do with us.

So, the next time you receive an invitation to give something of yourself, do not just look at what you do not possess, look rather to what you do possess, humble and insignificant as it may seem to you. That is enough. Pope Francis reminds us: “the Lord makes us walk on his road, that of service, of sharing, of giving; and if it is shared, the little we have, the little we are, becomes riches; for the power of God—which is the power of love—comes down into our poverty to transform it. So let us ask ourselves this evening, in adoring Christ who is really present in the Eucharist: do I let myself be transformed by him? Do I let the Lord, who gives himself to me, guide me to going out ever more from my little enclosure, in order to give, to share, to love him and others?”