Is the Sky Falling?

Thirty Third Ordinary Sunday Year C

Mention the story of Chicken Little, the classic tale of rumour, paranoia, and infectious mass hysteria, and you would most likely be reminded of the constant refrain of the various characters therein, ‘The sky is falling!” Set against this extremely alarmist outlook of the ‘end’, is the other more sedated worldview that perceives any preoccupation with the end of the world as irrational. Thus, T. S. Eliot, at the conclusion of his 1925 poem, “The Hollow Men,” wrote, “This is the way the world ends; Not with a bang but a whimper.” That’s a far cry from the cosmic crisis depicted in the apocalyptic genre of books and films, which is often crammed full of bangs, computer-generated crashes, explosions, earthquakes, and floods, including invading aliens or mythological gods bent on destroying humanity.

Curiosity about the end of the world abounds. For some, the Lord’s return marking the End times evokes eager and joyful anticipation. But for most others, it spells dread and fear.  I guess the difference in attitude takes a lifetime to acquire, a lifetime of preparation, and a lifetime of faithfulness. The passing of a millennium, wars and natural disasters are commonly interpreted as signs of approaching apocalypse; future famines and ecological crises are often promoted as hastening the same. But are we really living in the end times? Is it only a myth generated by brainless cult leaders poised to create mass hysteria? And what, exactly, does the Catholic Church teach about the end of the world?

A cursory reading of the New Testament gives the impression of two distinct and seemingly opposing positions. On the one hand, there is the resolute rejection of asking for signs and predicting the end based on empirical evidence of history. In this line of thought, the Second Coming of Christ or the End of the World resists all efforts at dating. The only answer to the request for signs and to every attempt to make Christ’s coming a matter of empirical description is the rejection of the question itself and its replacement with the challenge, “Be watchful!” “Be vigilant!” Date-setting is not an option for followers of Christ.

But there is also another line of biblical thought, often found in apocalyptic literature that asserts that there are signs announcing Christ’s coming and a vigilant Christian should be wise enough to pay attention to these. How do we understand and reconcile these two seemingly opposing lines? We can do so only in the light of the divine human nature of Christ. On the one hand, we have Christ who is also God, who is the goal of history, who transcends time and thus cannot be measured by it. On the other hand, Christ is also the man, a subject of time and through his coming, the invisible God has been made visible and thus signs of his presence are discernible.

Our gospel passage naturally brings together both lines of thought. This pericope begins with Jesus prophesying the destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem. This begs the further question which is placed on the lips of the disciples, “when will this happen, then, and what sign will there be that this is about to take place?” Jesus first provides an important caution that they should not be deceived by false prophets who either present themselves as messiahs or postulate the date of the apocalyptic event. “Refuse to join them … do not be frightened.” But then, Jesus proceeds to enumerate the signs, “Nation will fight against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes and plagues and famines here and there; there will be fearful sights and great signs from heaven.” This followed by a slew of persecutions.

As dramatic and frightening as these cataclysmic signs may be, the signs here and mentioned elsewhere in scriptures, at any rate, do not permit a dating of the End. Social revolutions, political upheavals, religious persecutions, cataclysmic disasters are not confined to any age. The truth of the matter is that you would find these signs in every age of human history. They do, however, relate the End to history – but by compelling every age to be seen literally as ‘the End’, and thus the call for constant vigilance and watchfulness. They indicate that the time of the End is ever present, that the world never ceases to touch that ‘wholly other’ world, and so time is no longer measured as ‘chronos’ (chronogically measured according to clocks, calenders and sun dials), but has also become ‘chairos’, the critical moment of decision, because by Christ coming, everyone is now compelled to make a choice, to choose him or to reject him, one can never remain neutral. Our neutrality already betrays a rejection.

Even in his own age, St Paul encountered members of Christian communities who read the signs incorrectly and as a result of that, made the incorrect response. When Paul wrote to the Christians in Thessalonica, some of the community, prompted by erroneous ideas about the coming of Christ, had opted for a kind of retirement. Because of the idleness of some of its members, the rest of the community was burdened financially. They had become a social nuisance. Paul admonished these people and reminded them that if they were truly believed that the End was at hand, they should be inspired by loving altruism rather than by lazy selfishness. Rather than to be distracted by trying to look for signs and give all kinds of strange unearthly interpretations to them, Christians should always be concerned with the task of the advancement of the gospel. The End Times stresses the urgency of this task. 

 
For us Catholics, the Last Days have already begun. The World is coming to an end! It started with the first coming of Christ at his Incarnation. “God, after He spoke long ago to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in many ways, in these last days has spoken to us in His Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the world” (Heb 1:1-2). It was the Incarnation, the entrance of God into time and space, which ushered in the end times and the last days.  The heart of this teaching is Jesus’ proclamation that he was establishing the Kingdom of God. This everlasting kingdom was realised through his death, his resurrection, and his ascension into heaven. At The End, the return of Christ in glory will fully reveal and manifest the Kingdom.

In fact, Christ himself is the Kingdom. He calls out for all men to enter into his divine life, which on earth is found in his Mystical Body. This is the work of divine restoration. Thus, the last days are all about a new creation and a new people, chosen by Jesus Christ and growing within history. Therefore, “by gazing on the risen Christ,” wrote Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, “Christianity knew that a most significant coming had already taken place. It no longer proclaimed a pure theology of hope, living from mere expectation of the future, but pointed to a ‘now’ in which the promise had already become present. Such a present was, of course, itself hope, for it bears the future within itself.”

So, unlike popular imagery of the End Times, Catholics do not need to hit the panic button and run helter skelter for cover whilst crying, ‘the sky is falling! The sky is falling!’ Indeed, we await the Second of Christ with great anticipation and we ritually celebrate it whenever we gather for the Eucharist, the “eschatological sacrament.” All of the sacraments have an eschatological character and purpose—that is, they are oriented to our eternal communion with God. This is especially true of the Eucharist, for it is the “pledge of glory” and “an anticipation of the heavenly glory”. For us, anticipation and readiness need not turn into despair, fear, or the error of date setting. For us, it means being focused on being true children of God. To do so calls for us faithfulness, perseverance and endurance

“The doctrine of the Second Coming has failed, so far as we are concerned”, wrote C. S. Lewis, “if it does not make us realise that at every moment of every year in our lives (the) question ‘What if this present were the world’s last night?’ is equally relevant.” This life will end one way or another, to be followed by judgment and the revelation of who we have become and who we really are. For all who are alive today, the ‘End’ can just be a heartbeat and a single breath away. For some, the ‘End’ may come through an unforeseen death, for others the result of persecution, and still others the result of catastrophe. But for all, the advice was and remains the same. Confident hope, joyful anticipation and patient endurance spell not merely survival but victory and salvation.

We cannot live without the resurrection

Thirty Second Ordinary Sunday Year C

On his first trip outside the province of Rome, Pope Benedict XVI made known to the world the powerful message left by the martyrs of Abitene. In the year 304, a group of Christians from the town of Abitine in North Africa gathered on Sunday, in defiance of orders from Emperor Diocletian, for the celebration of Mass.  They were “caught” and promptly hauled into court.  When asked why they disobeyed, one of the worshippers, Emeritus, gave this simple and profound answer: “Sine Dominico non possumus” (We cannot live without Sunday). Emeritus and 48 others eventually died martyrs’ deaths because they simply could not live without Sunday, without the Eucharist. They died knowing that death was not the worst thing that could happen to them. A worst thing would be a death without the resurrection.

The term ‘dominicum’ has a triple meaning. First, it indicates the Lord’s Day, Sunday. Secondly, it points to the occasion for the celebration of the Mass. This group of Christians possessed the deep conviction that Sunday Mass is a constitutive element of one’s Christian identity and that there is no Christian life without Sunday and without the Eucharist. Lastly, and this is the point we hope to consider this Sunday is the content of the Lord’s Day – it was the day Christians commemorated the resurrection of Christ. Sunday is the day Christians throughout the whole world declare unabashedly their faith in the resurrection, “Jesus is Risen”. This disarmingly simple statement and all that it implies has radically altered the course of human events and inspired thousands of Christians to go to their death, rather than to renounce their faith in the one who promises them eternal life. For Christ’s rising has become the pledge of our own rising and his strength has become our strength.

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is calling us to remember that God’s care is not limited to this world, and that the successes and failures of this age are not ultimate. He is calling us to remember that we are not children of this age, but of the resurrection. And Jesus himself and his resurrection are our guarantee that God can overcome all things, even death. In the gospel we are introduced to a group called the Sadducees. The Sadducees were the priestly aristocracy among the Jews by whom the political life of the people was largely controlled from the time of Alexander the Great onwards. The Sadducees were disenchanted with the traditions of the Pharisees, they rejected the extended canon of Scriptures, the concept of the resurrection of the dead, and the existence of angels and spirits, and they leaned heavily on the role of the responsibility of man. The belief in resurrection or the rejection of this doctrine, therefore, became the signature difference between the Sadducees and the Pharisees. The Sadducees thought of the kingdom in terms of the present, not in terms of the future. The kingdom to them (especially since they did not believe in the resurrection of the dead) is now.

Seen in this light, we can understand the hypocrisy behind the Sadducees’ hypothetical question of the one bride and the seven brothers. This is not a search for the truth. The Sadducees do not expect, indeed, do not want, an answer. They were asking Jesus about something they didn’t believe. Indeed, they were seeking to establish their premise that belief in a resurrection from the dead is both unbiblical and impractical. They hope to stump Jesus, and thus to demonstrate how “foolish” ideas of a resurrection from the dead are. If Jesus, the most noted teacher alive, could be stumped by their question, then He would become (reluctantly) an endorsement for their view. But it would be they who would be stumped.

Jesus’ answer to the Sadducee’s hypothetical scenario is direct and devastating. He speaks of two ages, “this age” and “that age,” which are very different from each other. The kingdom of God will be very different from the way things are now. I recall the words of Pope Benedict, “We could regard the Resurrection as something akin to a radical evolutionary leap, in which a new dimension of life emerges, a new dimension of human existence.” There will be no death, there will be no bearing of children, and there will be no marriage. Thus, the theoretical problem posed by the Sadducees is erroneous and non-existent. Resurrection will pose no problem for husbands and wives. Marriage is for now, but not for heaven.

The message of this week’s readings is an important reminder of the central importance of the belief in the resurrection. It is truly a pity and ironic that most people do not feel this way. The degree to which we believe in the resurrection of the dead will determine the way we presently live. If we are assured of our own resurrection, we will boldly stand for Christ, neither fearing man, nor death. If we are certain of a future life in God’s kingdom, entered into by means of resurrection, then we will look at this life very differently. We will be encouraged to lay up treasures in heaven, rather than to hoard wealth on earth. The commands of our Lord to “sell our possessions, and to give to the poor” can now be seen as God’s gracious imperatives, designed to stimulate in us a hunger for heaven.

The resurrection also throws new light on our present sufferings. The resurrection reminds us that death is not the end of everything. For those who believe in the resurrection, death wields no finality. Faith in the resurrection allows us to see our sufferings as temporary. Faith in the resurrection gives us hope in order to bear the pains, disappointments, hurts, and sufferings which we experience throughout life. Faith in the resurrection allows us to see that God promises us life and not death.

There is one other important point that we shouldn’t miss in this passage. Admittedly marriage is not the primary point of teaching here but Jesus did reveal something important about our understanding of marriage, although there simply isn’t time and space to develop this topic fully. Marriage was instituted by God from the very beginning as his ideal plan for humans to live in community in this age but Jesus here reveals that marriage will not last in its present form in the age to come. This is important because it means that there must be a specific purpose for marriage in this age beyond two people coming together to form a union for eternity. St Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians reveals that there is a purpose for marriage that stretches beyond marriage itself. He says distinctly that that marriage is a great mystery that teaches human beings about the truth of the relationship between Christ and his Church. The institution of marriage is not something designed to make humans happy but it is the context in which we can develop the holiness that God calls us to have as his people and to learn about the reconciliation between God and his people. Thus in a sacramental marriage between two baptised individuals, marriage is no longer just divinely instituted human institution – marriage is a means and path to salvation.

In spite of whatever we experience in this life, in spite of all the difficulties we may encounter, we live with the hope of the resurrection. This hope is what St. Paul is speaking about in the second reading: “the Lord is faithful, and he will give you strength and guard you from the evil one.” Whenever we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, whenever we gather on the Lord’s Day to celebrate the commemorative meal of our salvation, we should call to mind the words of the martyrs of Abitene, “Sine dominico non possumus”, “We cannot live without Sunday, without the hope of the resurrection!” Because Christ who died for us now lives, death no longer wields the final blow; death has become the passage to fuller life.

Come down the Tree of Narcissism; Go up the Tree of Salvation

Thirty First Ordinary Sunday Year C

No one denies the vast benefits of Facebook, Twitter, and the likes in deriving and disseminating all sorts of information and staying connected at an instance. I have personally benefited from the use of social networking and see its value in terms of the new evangelisation and the ‘new media’ which the last three Popes have frequently spoken of and demonstrated through their own savvy use of technology in the service of the gospel. I state all these knowing that what I have to say next may sound holier-than-thou and self-righteous. But here it is: the increase in the use of social media is indicative of the relentless rise of narcissism in our culture. As some social commentators have noted, narcissism has reached epidemic levels. We’re on constant display. The raunchy, goofy, poignant, sexy or drunken self-portrait has been a common sight since phone camera met social media. Every word we say can be posted. Everything we do can become an instant YouTube video. Every mistake we make and every race we win is a public affair.

Narcissism means having an inflated or grandiose sense of self. A narcissist thinks she is special, unique, and entitled to better treatment than others. The term ‘narcissism’ comes from the Greek myth of Narcissus, a handsome Greek youth who rejected the desperate advances of the nymph Echo. These advances eventually led Narcissus to fall in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. Unable to consummate his love, Narcissus lay gazing enraptured into the pool, hour after hour, and finally changed into a flower that bears his name, the narcissus. Despite its alluring promises, the truth is that narcissism kills.

Narcissism distorts our vision of humanity. We have been made in the image and likeness of God in order that we may come to know Him, love Him, serve Him and be with Him in beatific union for eternity. Yet, narcissism has caused us to fall in love with our own image, a false idol.  Narcissism in itself becomes a springboard for materialism and greed. We covet things of this world, rather than recognise that they are meant for the common good and for God.  We buy, we hoard, and start all over again.  Focusing narrowly on our own inner thoughts, experiences, feelings and felt needs, we ultimately cut ourselves off from the unfamiliar.  Wrapping ourselves in a cocoon of inwardness, we feel cozy in or own personal cult of self worship. Ultimately, we suffer from an addiction to ourselves. 

Someone once described this modern narcissistic culture by using this analogy – in the past, someone would climb a mountain in order to see the world. But now, people would climb the mountain in order for the world to see them – literally screaming for attention: ‘Look at me!’ Today, we are presented not with a story of a man climbing a mountain but a story of one who climbs a sycamore tree. Perched in its branches we find our man, Zacchaeus. So why was Zacchaeus up the tree? You can say that Zacchaeus was old school. He was not up the tree as a sort of personal announcement to the large crowds gathered there (an ancient form of social media, I guees), ‘Look at me!’ He was there because he was curious. Mystery had drawn him to the crowd and ultimately led him to climb that tree. Jesus was passing through Jericho that day, and many people were crowded around him as he walked through the city.

The curiosity of Zacchaeus, his thirst and desire to see Jesus reveals a powerful truth - God cannot be found by looking within yourself, your heart, your feelings and your experiences.  His Word is not the same as some inner voice.  His presence is not some warm feeling in the depths of your heart or the fluttering of butterflies in your belly.  Our God is a God who hides Himself where He may be found with certainty.  He hides himself in the mystery of the Incarnation – in the person of Jesus Christ.

Now, we could spend a lot more time discussing why Zacchaeus climbed up in the sycamore tree. We could debate—and many commentators have—exactly how much Zacchaeus knew about Jesus before he climbed the tree. We could speak about how impressed we are at the ingenuity and creative quick thinking of Zacchaeus or wonder whether we might have done the same thing. All these discussions may be fascinating but it’s really losing sight of the forest for the trees (or at least one tree)! The lesson of that tree really isn’t about Zacchaeus nearly as much as it is about Jesus. That tree is where Jesus came to save a sinner. Zacchaeus receives more than he bargains for as Jesus will summon Zacchaeus from his perch atop the Sycamore and invite himself to dine at the reviled tax collector’s home. His encounter with Jesus would change everything. He would ultimately find liberation from his narcissistic obsession with wealth. Jesus taught him to look beyond himself and his goods.

Last week, I had the opportunity to share with you the profound connection between the liturgy and the virtue of humility. Today’s story illustrates how the liturgy can save us from ourselves – Good liturgy puts the brakes on narcissism. Notice that we are bombarded throughout the week with secular ‘liturgies’ (social media, rituals of affirmation we receive at home, at work or in school) that guide our loves and desires towards a ‘me, me, me’ kingdom, rather than God’s kingdom. It’s a self-focused kingdom: a kingdom that loves me and only me. But liturgy protects us form simply making worship into a self-pleasing act. Church then, is meant to be the place away from it all. The home away from self-display. It’s meant to be the place where the liturgy guides us towards a desire for God’s kingdom, to worship Him and not ourselves. And that is why I have put a stop to the habit of applauding during the mass. It’s not because I’m an old Scrooge, an avowed party-pooper and wet blanket. It is because our applause takes away our focus from what is most significant. Pope Benedict XVI said: “Wherever applause breaks out in the liturgy because of some human achievement, it is a sure sign that the essence of liturgy has totally disappeared and been replaced by a kind of religious entertainment.”

Thus our first priority if we are to affect a reform of our lives and of the life of the Church is the reform of how we celebrate the liturgy. As another priest blogger puts it: ‘Save the Liturgy, Save the World.’ We must be taught again that the Mass is not a what, it is not a human rite which can and should be manipulated so as to express human desires or to promote human goods. The Mass is not another tool to serve a ‘function.’ The Mass is rather the prayer of self-offering of Jesus Christ to His Father for the remission of sins. Our usual complaints often betray our misconceived idea of the liturgy – music must be louder and more ‘happening’, benches and kneelers must be softer, church must be cooler, homilies must be funnier, and services must be shorter. The perduring idea that the liturgy should correspond to my likes and dislikes perpetuates individualism within the liturgy.

Time and time again, the assumption is that the key to drawing back young people to our parishes and churches is simply to make a few style updates to the liturgy that would cater to their contemporary taste – edgier music, more casual services, exciting innovative homilies with lots of lame jokes thrown in at regular intervals, loud bands and concert style rallies, an updated web site that’s awesomely cool. The truth is that these young people have enough of this outside the Church. It would truly be tragic and ironic and ‘boring’ to witness the same old thing when they step into church. But here’s the greater truth, the liturgy is not meant to feed the addiction to self and be another outlet for narcissistic expressions. The liturgy is not meant to please the crowd and be another avenue of entertainment. The liturgy is the Source and Summit of our lives – it is the Father's gift of Himself in Christ to us and, through Christ, our offering of Christ and, with Him, of ourselves – our minds and hearts, our daily lives – to the Father. The truth is that many young people are indeed being drawn back to beautiful traditionally faithful celebrations of the liturgy, because just like Zacchaeus, they sincerely want to see Jesus. They want the real thing, not a performer merely play-acting and attempting to please the crowds.

Today, we are invited to ascend the ‘Tree’, not the sycamore tree that Zacchaeus climbed – the sycamore tree is just type of something far more important. The sycamore tree reminds us of  the Tree of Life, once denied to Adam and Eve when they fell into sin of self-idolatry, narcissism in its most ancient form; 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. Augustine of Hippo, in his commentary on the Gospel of St Luke, wrote : “The crowd laughs at the lowly, to people walking the way of humility, who leave the wrongs they suffer in God’s hands and do not insist on getting back at their enemies...Say what you like, but for our part, let us climb the sycamore tree and see Jesus. The reason you cannot see Jesus is that you are ashamed to climb the sycamore tree” … the Tree of Life, the Cross of our Redemption and Salvation.

A Tremendous Yearning

Solemnity of All Saints

It would seem totally unfair to single out one single saint when our feast calls for us to contemplate the whole plethora of them – the entire sanctoral pantheon of heaven. But, the reason for this special mention would soon become obvious. I would like to introduce you to one of my personal favourites, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, the twelfth century abbot and reformer, a pastor and Doctor of the Church celebrated for centuries as a man of great intellect and greater holiness. Though largely unknown to our present generation of Catholics, he has left us a legacy of writings and homilies and one single Marian prayer that continues to be part of our treasure trove of Catholic prayers – the Memorare.

He deserves special mention today because I would like to begin with the blunt and perhaps unexpected question he asked in a homily given on the occasion of Solemnity of All Saints. “Why should our praise and glorification, or even the celebration of this feast day mean anything to the saints? What do they care about earthly honours when their heavenly Father honours them by fulfilling the faithful promise of the Son? What does our commendation mean to them? The saints have no need of honour from us; neither does our devotion add the slightest thing to what is theirs. Clearly, if we venerate their memory, it serves us, not them.’’ St. Bernard provides this beautiful answer to his list of rhetorical questions, “when I think of them, I feel myself inflamed by a tremendous yearning.”

What is this ‘tremendous yearning’ which he speaks of? St Bernard explains that this ‘tremendous yearning’ is twofold in nature. With regards to the first level of yearning: “Calling the saints to mind inspires, or rather arouses in us, above all else, a longing to enjoy their company, so desirable in itself. We long to share in the citizenship of heaven, to dwell with the spirits of the blessed, to join the assembly of patriarchs, the ranks of the prophets, the council of apostles, the great host of martyrs, the noble company of confessors and the choir of virgins. In short, we long to be united in happiness with all the saints …”

But when we commemorate the saints we are inflamed with another yearning: “that Christ our life may also appear to us as he appeared to them and that we may one day share in his glory… When Christ comes again, his death shall no longer be proclaimed, and we shall know that we also have died, and that our life is hidden with him. The glorious head of the Church will appear and his glorified members will shine in splendor with him, when he forms this lowly body anew into such glory as belongs to himself, its head.” St Bernard reminds us that we do not simply honour the saints from a distance like dotting fans. No, that would not be enough. By contemplating the saints, we ‘yearn’, we long, and we aspire to be with them, to be in their company, but most importantly to be united with Christ who is head of this glorified body. If Beauty is the compelling power of Truth, then the Beauty of the Saints draws us to not to themselves but into the presence of Divine Truth himself.

When we pause to consider the lives of the saints, it inspires us to long for holiness in our own lives, and the path of holiness. But the path of holiness isn’t something sterile and saccharine. As Pope Benedict and Pope Francis has always reminded us, the path of holiness always passes through the Way of the Cross. Today, on this Solemn Feast of All Saints, we are standing with John the Seer and seeing what he saw, the huge number impossible to count, of people from every nation. We are seeing all those believers who have gone before us and have arrived at the heavenly goal we’re still travelling to. And then the question comes, “Do you know who these people are?” This question isn’t really concerned about naming each and everyone of those saints arrayed in the presence of God. The question is rather, “Do we know what a saint is?” “Do we know what it means to stand before God in everlasting life?”

And here’s the answer, “These are the people who...have washed their robes white again in the blood of the Lamb” (Rev 7:14). It’s worth trying to understand. What does it mean? Let’s say this: the robe is our humanity, the blood of the Lamb is the power of Christ’s passion, his suffering and death, and white is the colour of closeness to God. So a saint is someone whose humanity, whose life, has been brought to God, been made god-like, by the power of the Cross, by the power of the self-offering Christ the Lamb made on the Cross. There, on the Cross, the naked Christ gave us back our robe and covered our nakedness wrought by sin. On the Cross, he showed us our truest and deepest vocation as human beings.

But apart from showing us the Cross, the saints also remind us of things that are changeless, timeless.  Things we need to remember and hold onto right now.  Things like Courage, Sacrifice, Holiness, and Hope. For all the trials and hardships that the world has known, through the centuries ordinary people have stepped forward to live out those ideals.  Now, many of you may protest that most Christians will never get the privilege of becoming a ‘red’ martyr, one who gives his life for his faith. But then all are called to be ‘white’ martyrs, martyrs in their own right in living faithfully the vocation of holiness in their own respective circumstances. Daily life, the demands of family and work, marriage and parenthood, tending to others’ needs, dealing with the things that go wrong: it’s through all that, most usually, Christ’s love is to be lived. We can either chose mediocrity or we can choose the same path by living it with heroic acts of faith, humility and fidelity. That too is the path of holiness.

We hear the rallying cry of St Bernard on this great solemnity, “Come, brothers, let us at length spur ourselves on. We must rise again with Christ, we must seek the world which is above and set our mind on the things of heaven. Let us long for those who are longing for us, hasten to those who are waiting for us, and ask those who look for our coming to intercede for us. We should not only want to be with the saints, we should also hope to possess their happiness. While we desire to be in their company, we must also earnestly seek to share in their glory. Do not imagine that there is anything harmful in such an ambition as this; there is no danger in setting our hearts on such glory.”