A guiding star for travellers

Homily for the Shrine of Our Lady of Antipolo

(Preached at the Shrine of Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage)

In his Retreat for Priest, one of the most notable Anglican converts to Catholicism, Monsignor Ronald Knox wrote, “Protestants sometimes laugh at us because we address ourselves now to our Lady of Perpetual Succour, now to our Lady of Good Counsel, now to our Lady of Lourdes, and so on, as if they were so many different people. But the case is much worse than that, if they only knew; every individual Catholic has a separate Our Lady to pray to, His Mother, the one who seems to care for Him individually, has won Him so many favours, has stood by Him in so many difficulties, as if she had no other thought or business in heaven but to watch over him.

Yesterday, we paid a visit to the Shrine of the Patron of Football. Today, we arrive at the shrine of Our Lady of the Filipinos, the Patron of those who detest equestrian sports – “antipolo.” Mother Mary, forgive me for my fleeting moment of irreverence. Our Lady of Antipolo may be a name which seems unfamiliar to many of us. You know of all the great shrines in Europe associated with our Lady and even some of the more famous ones in Asia, like Our Lady of Akita in Japan and Our Lady of Good Health, or Annai Vellangkanni, in India. But this is THE Marian shrine of the Philippines, Our Lady of Antipolo, or Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage.

It all starts with a statue. As the story goes, around 388 years ago, the Spanish galleon El Almirante landed in the Philippines from Mexico with precious cargo - a carved statue of the Virgin Mary -- a gift to the Filipino people by their Governor General. Legend says the trip from Mexico to the Philippines was fraught with great storms and a fire aboard the ship, but the ship landed safely -- with many contributing the successful journey to the presence of the holy cargo. She then became known as "Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage." According to tradition, the statue disappeared at least twice from the church, and each time was found in the branches of a tipulo (breadfruit) tree or as our locals would call it, the Sukun tree. So, you may add an additional name, Our Lady of the Sukun Tree.

Apologies for the short diversion, now back to our tale. Eventually, the statue found permanent residence in the small village of Antipolo, under the careful watch of Jesuit priests. That is why we have Fr Simon accompanying us on this pilgrimage to ensure that Our Lady doesn’t get lost again. The priests built a church near the tree, cut it down, and made it into a pedestal for the statue, where it remains to this very day.

As Patroness of Peace and Good Voyage, the Lady of Antipolo, reminds me of another ancient title accorded to the Blessed Virgin Mary, Star of the Sea, or Stella Maris. She has been called “Star of the Sea” since St. Jerome in the fifth century, though there was likely a transcription problem:  St. Jerome called her “stilla maris,” drop of the sea, but the change of an “i” to an “e” turned it into “stella maris,” star of the sea.  As a star, Mary guides us just as the star led the magi to the Christ Child.

To the sailors in ages past the stars meant survival.  Without the stars, before GPS and our technology, they wouldn’t know where they were going.  The stars represented, in a way, their salvation.  The stars pointed the way to safety.  It only took a good storm to spell disaster, because their navigation system was gone. Mary, as Star of the Sea, directs us to safety, to salvation, to life beyond just survival.  Her hands, with their scars and wrinkles, point to peace.  Her hands, with their memory of holding the Christ Child and then preparing for His burial, lead me home.  Her hands, like the stars for the sailors, guide me to the safe harbour of her Son.

It is interesting to note that a church building is intentionally built to resemble a ship. The section where the congregation sits is called the “nave” that comes from the Latin and Greek root which means “ship.” This was meant to portray the reality that the Church is a ship, protecting those inside it from the waves and buffets of the world. This also explains why in Churches dedicated to Our Lady, her statue occupies the audacious position of sitting high on the apsidal wall of the sanctuary, often even placed higher than the tabernacle where the Blessed Sacrament is reposed. But the arrangement is intentional and theologically sound. Mary acts as our guide to ensure that we have a peaceful and good voyage across the often turbulent ocean of life to safe harbour.  She points the way to Christ just as the Bethlehem Star hovered above, marking the place where the Magi could find the Holy Family and the Child.

Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage, Mary, Star of the Sea, is a promise that we’ll never be lost, that the storms of life will never spell disaster.  We can place ourselves in her hands — strong, worn, tender — and know that we are safe. Saint Bernard of Clairvaux captured this moment and how we ought to respond in supplication to Mary in his twelfth century treatise: “If the winds of temptation arise; If you are driven upon the rocks of tribulation look to the star, call on Mary; If you are tossed upon the waves of pride, of ambition, of envy, of rivalry, look to the star, call on Mary. Should anger, or avarice, or fleshly desire violently assail the frail vessel of your soul, look at the star, call upon Mary.”

O Holy Virgin of Antipolo, Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage, O Star of the Sea, pray for us and keep us safe on this adventure of faith!

We run to her aid

Shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Help

It is most appropriate that we begin our first pilgrim mass with a visit to this shrine dedicated to the veneration of the icon of the Our Lady of Perpetual Help, or as Fr Simon, fondly calls her, Our Lady of the Perpetual Football (succour, soccer, get the pun?). I hope you won’t be disappointed to note that this is not the original. The original icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help turned up in Rome in the 1490’s and Pope Pius IX entrusted it to the Redemptorists in 1866 and asked them to spread devotion of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. You can see the original icon in the Church of St Alphonsus in Rome (right across the junction from the Basilica of St. Mary Major). Many miracles have been attributed to praying before this icon.

Let’s begin with the most obvious question: What is an icon? Icons are not photographs. They are not attempts by an artist to portray his or her personal ideas of how Jesus or the Blessed Virgin or a Saint may possibly have looked like. They are more like an impressionist portrait than a photograph: their task is to make us think and ponder and reflect and lead us through contemplation ever more deeply into the mystery of God. Icons are “doorways to the divine.” An icon is a work of art which speaks to the heart and evokes prayerful reflection; it is an attempt to draw us every day anew into something deeper, rather than define a static flash-photographic image. An icon is an attempt to draw us into the Mystery of a God who wishes to be close to us in all things and especially at those times when we are in distress or anxiety or troubled by a sense of helplessness. It is an image which enables us to realise that in every moment of distress, God is there with his compassion and care.

Many interpretations have been offered explaining the details of this most iconic of icons. I guess for most people, understanding the iconography, does not precede the faith which people have placed on the efficacy of this icon. For us Catholics, it is faith that seeks understanding, not understanding that precedes faith. One has to believe in order to understand. Believing is seeing.

I would like to offer one of the most common interpretations. Notice the features of both Our Lady and Jesus. Both do not possess lifelike features. Mary’s enlarged eyes creates a gaze which demands our attention. Her eyes are “for all our troubles” and are turned toward us perpetually. Her eyes, mouth and ears (ears cannot be seen) create stillness. Mary’s mouth is small for she is silent and speaks little. An important lesson for many of us who can’t stop talking. Jesus seems to be a miniature little man in the arms of Mary and from one perspective makes Mary a giantess. Perhaps, this is a reflection of how Mary looms large in popular imagination and devotion.

The face of Our Lady appears full of sorrow, yet supremely dignified in her contemplation of the sufferings of her Son. In fact, both Mary and Jesus do not look happy. Most icons depict a certain seriousness in the demeanour of the characters as this solemn caricature is meant to draw our attention once again to the heavenly realms. Heaven is serious business and not a frolic in the park. Many interpreters would also postulate that the seriousness points to the Passion. Their sobriety is the result of having glimpsed Christ’s future suffering. Notice this small little detail. Unlike other icons of this nature, Jesus is not looking towards her; he’s looking away. Perhaps, it may not be so obvious but he is looking at the Archangel Gabriel who is carrying the cross and the nails to be used in the crucifixion. On the left the Archangel Michael is carrying more of the instruments used in Calvary, the reed, the sponge and the lance.

It is here that we see how the icon brings together Christological hypostasis. Jesus is both fully God and fully human. As one who is fully human, the young Jesus is horrified by the vision of the Passion which He must undertake and so he flees, he runs to his mother and she opens her arms to comfort him. This explains the business of the sandal with the broken strap that is barely dangling from his foot. This is what happens to many when we attempt to run with sandals and I do pray that all of you possess a hardy pair of footware during this pilgrimage. If you do meet a pedantic crisis, well, you know who to pray to, Our Lady of the Broken footware. 

Also notice the way he has his hands around Our Lady’s thumb. Mary seems to be giving a thumbs-up to the mission her son must undertake, which will culminate on the cross. Perhaps, this is a most poignant symbol of a soul clinging by one last thread–devotion to Mary. Despite the daunting suffering which he would have to face as an adult, that single thumb provides him with an anchor that secures his faith. Kind of like Kungfu Panda’s secret twinky move that won the day at the end of the first movie.

As we take another look at the icon, and cast our attention on the beautiful visage of Our Lady, we see something that we may have often missed in our over familiarity with this icon. Our Lady’s face is of unspeakable majesty and calm and yet her large eyes, partly closed, express ineffable sorrow and sympathy. Our Lady is not looking at Jesus, but rather to us, to express compassion for us in our fears and sorrows.

It is here that we come to recognise that this icon is just an icon of Mary. Mary is herself the icon, a true icon who makes visible the Incarnate Word of God. She is the one who pondered and contemplated the many things about her son’s life and mission and learned day by day, in her own sorrow, to remain faithful to her son. She remained with her son and remained faithful to him even as she was pained by what was happening to him. At the Wedding Feast of Cana, she told the servants to do as her son commanded, even when she herself did not fully understand how her son would act. And it is she who stands by the cross when other stronger men fled to preserve their own miserable lives. Her faith is a model of our faith. Her tender care for her son is the guarantee of her care for us. He pondering God’s word shows us the path which leads us to her son and to an understanding of our faith. She is truly the anchor of our faith, the Lady of Perpetual Help who would not turn a deaf ear to our pleas.

Just as Jesus ran to his mother for comfort and protection we turn to Mary for help in our trials and temptations. In the icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help the boy Jesus ran to Mary for protection when he foresaw his Passion. In our moments of trial, let us run to Mary for help, or for those who can no longer manage a 100 m sprint, crawl as the locals do, because she is highly favoured, she has won God’s favour, she indeed is our Perpetual Helper.

Our faith is unabashedly public

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

I once heard a senior person condescendingly addressed a group of young people by giving them his two cents worth of advice, “Don’t try to be so holy!” I guess it would be far too generous to accord such words any value, even if it were mere pittance. But in all fairness, what he may have wanted to say was that they shouldn’t be flaunting their piety. Did not the Lord Himself caution us to not parade our good deeds among men? Although, the ‘good deed’ may always be a good thing, showing off as far as that is concerned, is always a bad thing. Nonetheless, the danger is that the advice risked reinforcing modern culture’s penchant for relegating faith to the private sphere. In a world, where the “coming out” of the closet of every sordid lifestyle is celebrated, faith remains and should remain locked up in the darkest dungeons. In an age of political correctness, the goal is not to ‘offend’ others even if it means compromising or hiding one’s deepest convictions.

Detrich Bonheoffer in The Cost of Discipleship writes about this idea of the privatisation of faith when he says that flight into the invisible is a denial of the call. In other words, when Christians think they can just sort of fade into the background, when the Church ceases to be a prophetic sign confronting the evils of every era with her life-giving message, when all these stop happening, we have literally denied what it means to be followers of Christ. Pope Francis, in his first encyclical, Lumen Fidei, reminds us that our Christian faith is unabashedly and unapologetically public. To privatise faith or to hide it is to make a travesty of it. The Church is no secret society. We are meant to be the “salt of the earth” and the “light of the world.” These metaphors are meant to stir things up. We are meant to make a difference in the world around us rather than simply conform to the values of the culture that surrounds us. Jesus tells us, “Your light must shine in the sight of men, so that, seeing your good works, they may give praise to your Father in heaven.” To paraphrase, “Christians must come out!”

The images of salt and light are so rich in meaning, that even an entire day’s talk can’t begin to do them justice. Today, I would just like to focus on the theme of light. In the gospel of St John, Jesus tells us, that “He” is the light of the world. It’s good to remember this. You cannot make yourself the light of the world. You are the light of the world only because of your relationship with Him. It is the light of Christ that shines in us, not some self-created light.

If we are of the light, why would so many choose to remain in the darkness? The answer lies in the effect the light has on us. Many choose to remain in the shadows and in the darkness because the light can be repulsive – it exposes filth and scars. It was this very quality of light that our Lord so vividly described in John 3:19-20, “Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.” Yet, this very light can affect us in a different manner. Light reveals truth, the beauty of truth. It reveals truth about ourselves. We never see ourselves truly until we see ourselves in the context of Christ. In His light, we come to recognise that we are sinners in need of a Saviour. He is “the lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world,”;  He is “the Way, the Truth and the Life.”

But today, so many Catholics have the tendency to dull the light. Instead of standing out, we choose to blend in, to hide our distinctiveness. Eventually, we confine our faith to the private and personal sphere. When our paradigm is that of a dichotomised, or “sacred/secular” world, we eventually suffer from a certain moral bi-polarity, which is when we don’t apply the same values to one as to the other. We behave ‘churchy’ in the church setting and ‘worldly’ when we are out there in the world. We don't seek to demonstrate the contrast between the light of our faith and the world’s darkness because we don’t see the necessity. We simply resign ourselves to an amphibious existence. We eventually learn to blend in to the darkness rather than to shine. We can even buy into the lie that in order to succeed, in order to survive we must do so, and since our lives ‘outside’ the confines of the Church is “secular” and not holy, it won’t make a difference at all.

This, of course, is the exact opposite of the truth. The truth is that we let our light shine the brightest when the contrast is the greatest. In order for light to be noticed, it must shine in darkness. Remember the caution of Our Lord, “No one lights a lamp to put it under a tub; they put it on the lampstand where it shines for everyone in the house.” None of you may have the opportunity to preach a stirring sermon from the pulpit, but, you get to do it every day in the ordinary circumstances of life. The marketplace, your workplace, your school or college, your neighbourhood, and every social or public engagement provide you the greatest opportunities to shine, that is, to demonstrate the difference it makes in having Christ in your lives. My homilies pale in comparison!

Being a “light of the world” can happen in so many simple and varied ways.

When we respond in kindness to our enemies, our light shines.

When we give a person who has erred another chance when the world wouldn't, our light shines.

When we tell others that the most important thing in our lives is Jesus Christ and not success, and then live so they can see that it’s true, our light shines.

When we risk looking the fool for Christ where others dare not, our light shines.

When we wish genuine good to all men, with the greatest good being their salvation, our light shines.

When we stand up for the Truth even though deception and silence seem so much more profitable, our light shines.

Coming back to the objection that we heard at the beginning of this homily about flaunting our faith, when do you tell others about your good deeds and when do you not? Honestly, this is a good question for those who wish to advance in holiness and yet desire to avoid falling into the narcissistic trap of self-aggrandisement. When we are asked to allow our lights to “shine in the sight of men,” people are suppose to notice through your character, actions and lifestyle, and how Christ permeates them, and  not because of your attempts to have them see how “holy” and “great” you are. The former is humility. The latter is prideful and wrong. So a rule of thumb in shining and hiding: good works that we are tempted to hide for fear of man’s disapproval are likely the ones we should let shine. Good works that we are tempted to do publicly for man’s approval are likely the ones to keep secret.

Our contemporary world continues to work towards dimming the lights of religious expression. Pope Francis, however, warns in Lumen Fidei that, as a result of the contemporary reduction of the Catholic faith to the private realm, the faith has dangerously receded from culture, to the point that we can characterise it as “a massive amnesia in our contemporary world” where “the question of God is no longer relevant.” (LF, No. 25) More than ever, our Holy Father is convinced that “there is an urgent need, then, to see once again that faith is a light, for once the flame of faith dies out, all other lights begin to dim.”  (LF, No. 4) So we live like Jesus, we fight the battles with darkness. We bring truth to the blind and ignorant. We bring hope to those burdened by sin. We bring acceptance to the forgotten and unloved. To those confused about life, we bring God’s word. To the sad, we bring joy. To the impatient, we bring a reason to be calm. Let your light shine!  Not that you enjoy the spotlight. No, shine so that Christ may be better known and God glorified.