Disturb Us Lord

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

We often overlook those moments when God speaks to us, those times when He “disturbs” our lives and shakes us out of our slumber and complacency. To be honest, we often hate to move out of our well-defined and secure comfort zone. Could it be that we miss those moments because we tend to look for dramatic evidence of God’s direction, when ordinary instances abound, if only we were aware of them? Or could we be that we perceive that the goal of our faith is to acquire blissful moments of pure relaxation, free of all disturbances or trouble.  Most of us would certainly not dare to utter a prayer such as this:

Disturb us, Lord, when

We are too pleased with ourselves,

When our dreams have come true

Because we dreamed too little,

When we arrived safely

Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when

With the abundance of things we possess

We have lost our thirst

For the waters of life;

Having fallen in love with life,

We have ceased to dream of eternity

And in our efforts to build a new earth,

We have allowed our vision

Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,

To venture on wilder seas

Where storms will show Your mastery;

Where losing sight of land,

We shall find the stars.

This prayer was originally written by the British seaman and explorer Sir Francis Drake, regarded as a war-hero to the English but viewed as a notorious pirate to the Spanish. Whether viewed as either a hero or villain, a saint or sinner, the prayer of Francis Drake resonates with the experiences of the persons figured in today’s readings. These are stories of persons not disturbed by the troubles of the world. These are stories of persons disturbed by grace. These are stories of how the Prince of Peace comes to disturb our peace. If the Prince of Peace is to bring real peace, he must expose the contradictions that are robbing us of that real peace, and expose himself to the angry denials and hostility of those who are exposed.  

In the first reading, we have Samuel, who’s slumber has been disturbed by none other than God himself who calls him to a prophetic ministry that would thereafter define his life. From the secure and risks free life as a priest’s apprentice, he is now summoned by God to the often dangerous task of appointing kings, challenging them and finally revoking the mandate that had been granted by God to rule the nation. The Lord has come to disturb Samuel from his peaceful slumber so that he may disturb the conscience of the king and the nation and call them to repentance in order to liberate them from the evil that had enslaved them.

In the gospel, the first disciples of Jesus are called. Their contented lives as disciples of another renowned preacher, St John the Baptist, is shaken up and disturbed by the call to follow the Lamb of God. Let us not be mistaken by the gentle and harmless appearance of this lamb. It is the Lamb of the Book of Revelation, which has come to judge the world and destroy evil. It is the lamb, prophesied by Isaiah, who will be led to slaughter and his vicarious suffering would prove to be redemptive and salvific. He is the new Paschal Lamb whose blood will not only save an enslaved Israel but lead the whole of humanity from slavery to sin into the freedom of being made children of God. This is no soft cuddly pet, but the One who has come to set the hearts of his followers aflame with the fire of God’s love.

These men’s cautious distance would be upended when Jesus turns around and puts a disturbing question to them, “What are you looking for?” Isn’t this the perennial question of every searching soul? It is as if they cannot put into the words the deep longings and stirrings within their heart, that they ask a question in return,” Master, where do you live?” In reply, Jesus issues the invitation which he issues to all of us, “Come and see!” Only one who accompanies will see.  Jesus’ invitation was more than social niceties or oriental hospitality.

To “come and see” is to recognise that we have fallen in love with life and all its illusions, and we have lost our thirst for the waters of life. To “come and see” means to be disturbed and shaken out of our accustomed comfort with sin. To “come and see” means to widen our vision beyond what seems familiar to us. To come and see means going out on a limb into unchartered territories. To come and see means to abandon everything in order that we may possess everything in the person of Christ, the treasure beyond compare. The call of the gospel reveals to us the breathtaking glory and loveliness of God, and in so doing, it lures our heart away from love of self and leaves us enthralled by Him instead. 

If you are lost, confused and without direction, come and see. If you have wondered if there really can be meaning to this life, come and see. If you ache with a pain that soaks up any good feelings, come and see. And even if you are feeling deliriously happy, content, and full beyond compare, still come and see. To be honest, there are no adequate words to describe the experience of being in the presence of a living God, a loving God, a creator God who knows us without qualification, and a saving God who loves us just as we are. A love that is unyielding in its desire for you. A power beyond measure. Not in coercive control of our actions, but in deep compassion for our being. It is peace. Real peace. Satisfying enduring peace. It is very unlike the peace of the world, the kind of peace that you are often fighting to preserve. In finding this peace, we come to understand the prayer of St Augustine, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

Today, Jesus continues to ask, “What are you looking for?” and to challenge, “come and See!” the disturbing but transforming power of his grace is still present and his Spirit is still calling disciples. You will only hear his voice when you are ready to be disturbed by his grace. We come to realise that even in our sin, failure and limitation, we do not have to journey to find an elusive God. We have only to turn into our hearts to find the God who never stops calling us, the God who never stops disturbing us, the God who never stops searching for the lost sheep, because this is a God who will never stop loving us.

“Disturb us, Lord … Disturb us!”

The Heavens Torn Apart

Baptism of the Lord 2015

 

The Baptism of Our Lord is an event recorded in all three of the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and also referred to in the Gospel of John. But only Mark, which we had just heard today, uses these words: “And when he came up out of the water, than he saw the heavens torn apart. . . .”

“The heavens being torn apart.” That’s an interesting way to put it, isn’t it? For most of us, the idea of the “heavens being torn apart” often innocently conjures those poignantly stunning shafts of smoky sunlight that break through brooding clouds – every cameraman’s or painter’s dream.  The word that’s used here in the Greek is not so innocent. The word, “schizo,” has violent and destructive connotations. It’s the word from which we get our English words “scissors” and “schism,” “schizoid,” “schizophrenia,” etc. “Schizo” means to “split,” to “rend,” “tear apart” or “rip open.” So the heavens were being “split wide open,” “torn apart,” when Jesus was baptised.

If you want to understand the expression of heaven being torn open, you should know first what heaven meant to the people in ancient times. According to the creation myth, on the second day God created heaven with dividing the water above from the water below. The gap between waters is a celestial sphere, the firmaments, or simply heaven. In the Hebrew mindset, the supernatural world (heaven) and the natural world (earth) were so closely bound up that they touched and, at points, whatever divided them was quite thin indeed.  The Holy of Holies in the tabernacle and temple was one such place.  That’s why there were guards and priests, blood and altars, washing bowls and thick curtains.  They were all there to mediate the touchpoint between two worlds. And what separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the Temple was this huge curtain, called the Veil, with embroidered symbols depicting the cosmos. It’s as if the world of God was just hidden behind this thin membrane yet formidable veil of the cosmos, a veil which mortals would have little opportunity to pass through.

In Heaven, the Creator’s authority held sway and was uncontested.  But on earth this same authority was contested in every heart.  Thus, the earth was filled with injustice and avarice thus motivating someone like the prophet Isaiah to plead with God that he would tear the heavens open and unleash and rain down his justice (of the destructive kind).  “If You would but tear open the heavens and come down, So that mountains would quake before You…” Isa 64:1. 

What do you think of when you hear that the heavens were “torn open?” Man’s sinfulness in the past had occasioned both the opening and the shutting of heaven. In the time of Noah, God opened up the heavens and flooded the earth. Or during the time of Abraham and Lot, the heavens opened up and rained down fire and brimstone on the wicked cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. But there were also occasions when God chose to shut the heavens, and prevented the needed rain to fall on earth, during the great famine of the time of Elijah, and only opened the floodgates of heaven after Elijah had defeated the pagan cult of the evil queen Jezebel.  

But something entirely different takes place at the Baptism of Jesus. Instead of torrential rains and floods, instead of destructive fire and brimstone, we hear the voice of God the Father and we see a glimpse of the most profound mystery of faith, the innermost centre of God’s life, the manifestation of the Most Holy Trinity. No, not fire and brimstone, not a flood, but a dove, a sign of peace, divine forgiveness and reconciliation. Not a booming voice of God announcing the wrath and judgment of God over sinful humanity but an affirming voice of love and paternal charity. “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.”

So what did the tearing apart of heaven reveal? First, it revealed that there is no longer an impassable barrier that separates man from God. This the amazing good news that we heard on Christmas day and is now manifested to the world at the Baptism of the Lord. Jesus is the sign of God’s conciliation. He is truly God’s righteous Beloved Son. True God and true man. God in man made manifest. It’s as if Jesus, the Beloved Son, the only one who could truly claim to be free from sin, holy and righteous, now stands in the gap between sinful humanity and a Just God. Instead of seeing the sinfulness of man, the real cause for the separation between God and man, God instead sees his righteous Son, the new Adam. Whatever cause for His divine displeasure and wrath, which is truly just, dissipates. His Beloved Son stands in the gap and shields humanity from the death, judgment and destruction it deserves. For the holy Son of God would take on himself the sins and the guilt of all mankind.

And so at our baptism, when we are united with the death and resurrection of Christ, God removes the barriers separating sinners from him and him from sinners so that mistakes, rebellion, guilt, and shame no longer keep people from God. Instead, we now share in that divine favour of being the beloved ones of God. God does all this because of his Son Jesus.

When heavens were torn apart, we also receive a second revelation - we are treated to a glimpse, a momentary peek, into the dynamic life of the Triune God.  Man throughout the ages have attempted to speculate about nature of God. Thinking about this can wrack our brains, but it can also ignite our imaginations. But God is no longer the subject of speculation and imagination. Jesus has revealed God to us as Three Persons in one God.  Jesus has revealed that God is a Community of Love in and of Himself. So when the heavens are “torn open,” when the Spirit hovers over the baptismal waters and descends upon Jesus as a Dove, when the Father commends Jesus as His Beloved Son, it is as if we are standing on sidewalk looking through a lit window to see the fullness of God residing.  Jesus bursts into the world not as a mere Messiah (though that would satisfy plenty of expectations in itself), or not as a messenger bearing a good word for people to accept (after all that was sort of John the Baptist’s job), but as the very image of the God who creates, redeems, and loves.

We’re here today because we know heaven is open. And the good news is that the tear has not been repaired. Heaven’s graces is still leaking, nay, it is still invading this earth. Now heaven is torn open when the heart of a sinner turns from sin to grace. Now heaven is torn open when the Word of God is read. Now heaven is torn open every time a baby or adult is baptised. Heaven is torn open each time we come before the Lord’s altar and receive the body and blood of Jesus in His holy Sacrament. Heaven is open, and God gives us His Holy Spirit. And because Jesus is our Saviour and has washed away our sins and made us His brothers and sisters, our God says about us, “You are My son, or My daughter, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” And when we die, we will truly see heaven torn open as God’s holy angels come down to escort our spirits into His presence – until the day heaven is really torn open, when our Saviour comes in His glory with all His holy angels to judge the earth.

Venite Adoremus

Solemnity of the Epiphany 2015

Venite Adoremus  – “O Come Let Us Adore Him;” so goes the refrain of that well-loved hymn Adeste Fideles, “O Come All Ye Faithful.” As often as this hymn is sung, we can imagine accompanying the shepherds as they go running through the streets of Bethlehem or the Magi, wise men crossing impossible distance and terrain, to reach the Christ Child on bended knee humbly petitioning the Blessed Mother “O come, let us adore Him.” What is the reason for their haste and the purpose of their visit? They have certainly not come just to observe or to satisfy their curiosity. And the gifts they present to the child are more than just gestures of friendship and salutary presents. They have come to do what is at the very heart of our Christian faith– they have come to worship the Lord.

Several thoughts come to mind on this Solemnity of the Epiphany, the Manifestation of the Lord, but this year I would like to approach this meditation from one angle: the importance of worship in the story of Jesus' epiphany for our modern world, and in particular, for all disciples of Christ. Unfortunately, the worship of God has become a secondary focus, even for many who consider themselves as part of the Church. Even within the Church, the liturgy often seems to rank last of all among its many activities. To modern man, worship seems altogether insular, anti-social and a waste of time. Just observe the number of times you have looked at your watch in the course of this mass. Today, you are most likely going to encounter a greater amount of discussion on solidarity with the poor or even the task of evangelisation, reaching out to one’s neighbours. To be sure, these things are very important. But I guess we have forgotten that worship is more important. In fact, worship is the first and chief work of the Church. Today’s feast therefore is an apt reminder that we need to restore the rightful priority of worship in our daily lives and in the life of the Church.

The Magi reminds us that the essence of religion is the worship of God. God created the universe for this very purpose. God created men and women, created in the divine image, and wrote on their hearts the command to worship God who created all things. “God’s first call and just demand is that man accepts Him and worship Him.” (CCC #2084)

To worship God means acknowledging, in all humility and honesty, that all we have and all that we are comes from Him. To worship God is to humbly recognise our creature-hood and our servant-hood. He is God and we are not. To worship God consists in submitting to His holy will, not begrudgingly but gladly. We human beings, however, could never truly or adequately worship God on our own. That is why the greatest act of worship is to be found in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass where Christ offers perfect worship to the Father. Christ is both the perfect High Priest and the perfect Sacrifice. What He offers is His own Paschal Mystery, ie His Passion, Death and Resurrection, by which the whole world is redeemed and through which the Father is glorified. Whenever we participate in the liturgy, therefore, we participate in the eternal priesthood of Christ and thereby offer truly pleasing worship to God. This is why the Church at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer, affirms that our worship can only be accomplished “through Him, with Him and in Him… in the unity of the Holy Spirit.”

Little do we realise that everything hinges on understanding, appropriating and living out this Truth – that we are made to worship God and God alone. Worship of God does not demote man; it elevates him. In worship, we find our fulfillment; we reach our highest dignity, and discover our true self in God. So, God is not our competitor; He does not steal the limelight, and the worship of Him is not a distraction or in opposition to our work and mission in this world. Rather, the basis of our mission and work in the world must be prayer and worship.

That great convert to Catholicism, G.K. Chesterton once wrote, “When Man ceases to worship God, he does not worship nothing but worships everything.”  We too can easily recognise the false gods of materialism, power and popularity. But, today, the fastest growing religion, the most subtle of all, is the worship of oneself. Herod the Great, the king who would tolerate no rivals, not even the one who could turn out to be the Messiah, is the iconic representation of this mind set. Herod loved himself more than anything else, more than the liberation and salvation of Israel. His love of self would ultimately lead him to plot “Deicide” – the murder of God. Narcissistic conceited idolisation of oneself has made each of us into a god that tolerates no rivals. It is no wonder that true worship of God is forgotten and even vilified in this self-obsessed culture of ours. If anything is worthy of adulation and praise, then it can only be us. Chesterton’s timeless quote may sound like this today, “When Man ceases to worship God, he does not worship nothing but worships himself.”

Perhaps, some of you may protest that this is an unfair and inaccurate assessment of our modern culture. Are we really so conceited and self-absorbed? We only need to find evidence of this claim in our own culture of worship. I’m quite sure that you know of many Catholics, and may even count yourself as one of them, who constantly complain about the mass being boring or being too long. It is boring because it is not about “us.” It is too long because worship is such a waste of time and we have little love for God. We could be better using our time to entertain ourselves. It would seem that “boredom” is symptomatic of an entertainment culture, a culture that manufactures reality TV shows, Talentime contests, and Social Media, a culture which continually demands to "feel good". The goal of such culture is never the worship of God. On the contrary, it is all about ourselves – we must be kept entertained. Hence, the mass too becomes "show time" with an unhealthy focus upon the performance, which has been adapted from a world that does not know God.

In a recent blog posting, Monsignor Charles Pope of the Archdiocese of Washington D.C. raised the caution that when churches jump unto the entertainment and “feel-good” factory band-wagon of worship, they would still risk losing congregants because eventually, boredom sets in, ideas run out, and Catholic parishes will always lose out to the “glitzier and better funded” Protestant mega-churches who specialise in the trendy. He concludes with this poignant reminder – “the central point of liturgy is not to impress or entertain human beings. (In other words, it’s not about the worship of man by man, but rather) It is to worship God.”

So today, in contrast to Herod who demanded worship from his subjects, we have the example of the Magi, whom tradition tells us were also kings. But here lies the difference. Those who were in the custom of having others bow and even prostrate before them, now humbly bow before this seemingly powerless and insignificant Child. Rather than expecting adulation and praises from others, the Magi teach us that true worship comes in the form of losing one self to the divine. As the Star guided the Magi to worship at the crib of Our Lord and Saviour, let us be guided by this liturgy to worship Him in the Most Holy Sacrament of his Body and Blood. And if you do get to sing that beautiful hymn with its chorus resounding; “Venite Adoremus!” “O Come Let Us Adore Him”,  remember that it does not only bid us to obey God, or to serve Him, to strive, to live or die for Him;  all of that might come in good time, but for today, the call is to adore and to worship. And that is what we must do, not just for today, but for the remainder of my life here and for all eternity thereafter.