Tabernacles Full, Churches Empty

Maundy Thursday

One of the most striking visible features of the Sacred Triduum, if you are good at the game of “spot the difference”, is to notice that there is a significant change in the sanctuary.

From the time before the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday, right until the holy communion is finished during Easter Vigil mass on Holy Saturday, the tabernacle remains empty.

It’s a striking image: the doors of the tabernacle are wide open, exposing a gaping void. Therein our Lord once dwelled, beckoning the wearied to throw their cares upon Him. Normally, before entering and exiting our pews, we give homage by genuflecting toward this abode, perhaps catching a glimpse of the sanctuary lamp that burned as a reminder of His presence. But not on Holy Thursday or Good Friday or for the good part of the Easter Vigil. The lamp is extinguished, the doors thrown open, the tabernacle emptied, the church stripped. In our desperation to see Him, we can feel the pain of Mary Magdalene as she exclaimed: “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” (John 20:13)

Due to this pandemic outbreak this year, where priests throughout the world would have to celebrate the Sacred Triduum alone and without a congregation, Rome has made some alterations to the rubrics (liturgical rules of our celebration). For example, this year, we are suppose to return the Blessed sacrament to the tabernacle instead of processing it to a side altar. Jesus will remain in the tabernacle throughout this Triduum and the sanctuary lamp will remain lit, even on Good Friday.

For me it is a poignant irony. Our tabernacles will remain filled this year but our churches are empty. Jesus is present but the people are physically absent. I would never have envisaged celebrating mass without a congregation for Holy Week, but this is the painful reality we find ourselves in this year, through no fault of ours nor by choice.

On a normal Holy Thursday our tabernacles would be emptied before the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. Have you ever wondered why? It makes better sense to empty the tabernacle on Good Friday, because our Lord died on this day. But why on Holy Thursday, why should we empty our tabernacles on the day the church celebrates the institution of two sacraments - the Eucharist and the priesthood?

Our empty tabernacles serve as a reminder to us that there was a time when there was no Eucharist, there was a time when masses were not celebrated, when Holy Communion was not available. But all this changed with the sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave up His body and spirit on the cross so that we may have life. Our Lord gave us the Eucharist as a lasting memorial of His death and resurrection.

So, by emptying our tabernacles on Holy Thursday, the Church is telling us - to really understand what God has done for us in Christ Jesus. We need to experience this absence, so that we may experience His presence more keenly.

As a priest, I yearn for your presence during this time of social distancing. What would a priest be without the Eucharist? Nothing, for we are ordained precisely for the Eucharist. No other person is able to say the words, “This is my Body .. This is my Blood,” and actually produce the real change in the bread and wine. And, what would a priest be without his flock? Nothing, for we are ordained to sanctify our people by administering these sacred mysteries. The sacraments were instituted by Christ for the people, for their salvation. They are not meant to be trophies on a shelf or exhibits in a museum to be admired.

I guess this experience of longing and hungering would be very different for all of us this year. It is not because our tabernacles are empty but our churches are. As a priest I long and hunger for the return of my flock that had been entrusted to me by Christ. For the people, they long and hunger for Christ in the Eucharist which only the priest can give.

This year, we are all required to experience severe fasting.  It must be noted that the Church does not call us to fast from sinful things but good things in order to draw closer to God.  We must fast from the good of communal life.  We must fast from being physically present in our churches to celebrate mass. It is painful but remember fasts do not last forever.  There is a saying often associated with Easter which marks this transition - “The Fasting has ended, the Feasting has begun.” Now we fast, so that our anticipation of the feast may be heightened.

In the past, we may have taken both our communion with our fellow human beings and our sacramental Communion at the Mass for granted.  This pandemic and the physical separation it has caused may seem to be evil but God can always turn it into something good. Social isolation is everyone’s cross to take up now.  But just as Good Friday leads to Easter, if we embrace our cross, it will lead to a fullness of life beyond our wildest imagination. And one day, you too shall return and fill our empty churches where Christ awaits you eagerly in the tabernacle to welcome you home.

The King who comes in Humility and Silence

Palm Sunday

Public opinion is a fragile thing, especially for politicians. In a world, where polls often seem to take the place of prophets, the final outcome still remains an open question. You may be leading in the polls, but that doesn’t mean that you would get the most votes when the actual ballots are counted. Likewise, the underdogs should not throw in the towel too prematurely. Who knows? They may emerge as the unsuspected victor.

This is what happened during the first Holy Week. A descendent of David enters the city of Jerusalem and is hailed as king by the crowds but at the end of the week, he is condemned a criminal. At the beginning of the week, he is considered the best candidate, but as the week progresses, as public opinion wanes, he is regarded as the worst. This is reflected in the triumphant tone at the start of our liturgy which slowly evolves into a bitter story of betrayal and rejection. As far as public opinion is concerned, it had turned against this man. It is true that public opinion is a dangerous beast to try and ride, not even kings are safe from its force.

The transition in today’s liturgy reflects these two moments in the “political career” of Jesus. We heard in the gospel reading at the beginning of this liturgy, how the crowds came out to welcome Jesus greeting Him as the Son of David. They gave Him the Messianic title and acclaimed Him as the royal Son of God. Saint Matthew quotes from the prophet Zechariah who in a series of prophecies, tells of the coming of the last king who will be a true prince of peace. He was writing against the memory of failed kings whose inadequacies and vanity had brought about the end of the kingdom of Judah. Zechariah tells the returned exiles from Babylon that the true king will come not as a tyrant robed in power and might, but gentle and humble and riding on a donkey. They had seen enough of powerful rulers in the pagan kings. In other words, he would not seem like a king at all. His coming was to be so discreet that it would be possible to miss it altogether. No pomp and pageantry. This king would be characterised by humility and silence.

Saint Paul reminds us that “Christ Jesus did not cling to His equality with God but emptied Himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as men are; and being as all men are, He was humbler yet, even to accepting death on a cross.” He could have chosen to descend on the city of Jerusalem arrayed in His divine glory, surrounded by angelic courtiers, but instead, in His humility He chose to be “born of a woman.”(Gal 4:4) In His humility, He shows and manifests His own need for the Father, for the help of others, and for created things. The Creator of all things, who is complete and wholly sufficient, affirms His need for a steed, to ride on His journey into Jerusalem, “The Lord has need...” The King of glory chose to communicate His need for a room to keep the Passover with His disciples. The One who is all knowing, chose to allow one of His own intimate disciples to betray Him. The all-powerful One did not pretend or hide His sadness and distress from His disciples at the Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. He who had the ready command of twelve legions of angels asked for the company of frail men, “My soul is sorrowful to the point of death. Wait here and keep awake with me.”

As Holy Week progresses the contrast between the imperial liturgy that surrounded Caesar, the earthly Lord of the World, and Jesus, the Incarnate Word through whom all things were made, becomes more marked. He is dressed in the parody of the imperial purple. He wears the thorny crown as a mock diadem. He bears the reed as the fake scepter. Pilate presents Him to the crowds for their acclamation and finally He is enthroned on the cross. As his soldiers on a shield raised the emperor at his accession, so Christ is raised on the lofty eminence of the cross. Instead of the crowd of admiring courtiers shouting acclamations of praise, a motely group of frightened and insecure clerics, ruffians and disappointed idealists, shout insults at the foot of the cross. The drama of Holy Week is an exercise in pantomime. The true prince, whom nobody can really see, is present all of the time and his true identity is revealed in the last scene of the drama. The true Kingship of Christ is not revealed during His triumphant entry into Jerusalem with all its fanfare. No, His true Kingship is revealed on the wood of the cross where He willingly hangs in place of the shame and humiliation brought on by our sinfulness.

Earthly powers attempt to emphasise their might and dignity through inflicting ridicule and humiliation on those who oppose them, little do they realise that the joke is on them. It is their pretensions to supremacy that are being held up as vain and empty. Christ, the Lord of Glory, in His humility, questions the foundations on which all earthly power is founded. At the end of the crucifixion scene in Saint Matthew’s Passion, the Centurion ironically declares “in truth this was the Son of God.” The representative of Caesar, standing beneath the throne of the cross acclaims the true king whose identity is now clear for all to see. Christ who submits to the yoke of the cross holds out His arms and says ‘come to me all you who labour and are heavily burdened and I will give you rest.’ ‘I am gentle and lowly of heart and you will find rest for your souls.’

Jesus Christ remains a central figure of interest for modern man. There isn’t much argument about whether He actually was a historical person, but nearly everything else about His life generates enormous, and sometimes rancorous, debate. Some love Him, others hate Him, some revere Him, others feel ambivalent about Him. Public opinion will always be divided. But our Christian faith is not built on public opinion. Even though we may be constantly under pressure to conform to the standards of the world, Christians should not allow mainstream public opinion, the standards of society, to dictate our conduct or decisions. Our faith is built on the conviction that He is indeed the long-awaited king, the Saviour of the World, “the stone rejected which has become the corner stone.” Things that the world considers foolish, weak, and ignoble, God views as wise, powerful, and honourable. (1 Cor. 1:25-28)

We Malaysians have suffered a double blow. In the face of a growing frightening pandemic unleashed upon an unsuspecting world, we saw a transition in our government through a “back door.” Within a week, we witnessed changing political alliances that seemed to move faster than the speed of light. The way the present government is dealing with the medical crisis and the implementation of the lockdown order have also seen shifting public opinion. One day we think they are doing a good job. Another day, we blame them for all and sundry. How will this all end? We have to admit in all honesty that we do not know. The outcome of this political upheaval is as uncertain as the course this pandemic will take in the coming weeks and perhaps even months.

Though I cannot give you a prediction about our political future or how this pandemic will turn out, I can confidently tell you how the story of Holy Week will end for Jesus. We don’t need political pundits or scientists to tell us how the story will end. We know how the story ends – His supporters will abandon Him, one will betray Him, His enemies will kill Him. But that’s not the real end of the story. His campaign will not end in defeat but in astounding victory. And if we have remained steadfast and faithful to Him, His victory will be ours too!   

Death is a Doorway to Eternal Life

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year A

There are few things in life more permanent and guaranteed than death. Some would add taxes, but I think Malaysians can tell you that tax evasion is far easier than postponing and avoiding death. Despite the certainty of death, that doesn’t stop us from imagining what life would be like if death was only temporary, if one could actually rise from the dead. The Covid-19 pandemic, which has brought the whole world to its knees, brought global economies to a halt, caused nation-wide lockdowns in countries ranging from first world superpowers to third world nations, got me thinking about the scenario painted by post-apocalyptic zombie movies: reanimated human corpses roaming the world seeking to devour living flesh, a scenario that could one day actually become a reality. It was a frightening thought indeed.

Take that in for a second.  You have just witnessed a guy get up from out of a tomb (that reeks) all wrapped up in linen (though that may imply a mummy sooner than a zombie – regardless; he’s undead). Or, he is Lazarus.  Well, it is good to note that he is not the first case of a reanimated corpse reported in the gospels. There are three resurrection miracles - the resurrection of the daughter of Jairus (Lk. 8:41ff), of the son of the widow of Naim (Lk. 7:11 -15), and of Lazarus. In the first miracle, the girl had just died when Our Lord resurrected her. In the second miracle, the dead man was being carried in his funeral procession, presumably to his tomb. But Lazarus “had been in the tomb for four days already.” He was already stinking. So picture the reaction of the onlookers – here was a man who was already dead for four days, and before you know it, he’s up and about.  Macabre. But unlike zombies who become mindless, flesh-feasting, and soulless creatures, Lazarus came back alive and went on with his normal ordinary life until his “second” death. I guess for him and for so many others who had returned from near-death experiences, life would be forever transformed. For better or for worse. We can choose to become better people, become more human, or continue to live as the walking dead.

The resurrection of Lazarus isn’t so much about the reanimation and resuscitation of a corpse as it is about a sign pointing in the direction of the One who openly declares, “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” Those are words with most profound hope and joy for all of us. Those words are also a reminder that our focus is on the Lord’s own resurrection because it is the source of great power and favour, a power so great that it will one day raise up the bodies of all believers to Eternal Life! This is why Jesus allowed Lazarus to die in the first place. If our Lord had come earlier to heal him and prevent his death, what would that have achieved? No, our Lord who is the Resurrection and the Life deliberately chose to wait, so that the miracle which He would perform would not just be one that delays and postpones the inevitable, but a miracle that will mark the final defeat of death. But this demonstration of our Lord’s power over death was a sign of His own coming resurrection, and of Lazarus’s and ours as well.

This is at the heart of the Christian gospel, the good news we proclaim today, every Sunday and in fact every day of our lives. It is not just pointing to a historical event, but the resurrection of the Lord is primarily a saving event. The Lord may have defeated death momentarily in the case of Lazarus, but Lazarus would have to meet this fate once again. More than just this temporary reprieve from the sentence of death, is the final and ultimate defeat of death. The Resurrection of our Lord is more than a miracle and motive for faith. It is a saving event in its own right, since the dying and rising of Jesus together constitute the victory over sin and death. It is only through His risen life that we are brought into that “newness of life” which constitutes the fullness of our salvation. We have a share in this through our baptism, “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life” (Romans 6:4). And in the second reading, Saint Paul assures us, “though your body may be dead it is because of sin, but if Christ is in you then your spirit is life itself because you have been justified; and if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, then He who raised Jesus from the dead will give life to your own mortal bodies, through His Spirit living in you.”

The miracle the Lord performed in raising Lazarus from the dead was not just for the benefit of Mary and Martha.  His miracles were for the whole community and for us to know that He really was the Son of the living God, and that God’s true presence is among us.  The gospel said that after this miracle, many of the Jews who had come to be with Mary and Martha, and had seen Jesus perform this miracle, came to believe that He truly was the son of God.

The raising of Lazarus is the last recorded miracle or “sign” in John’s gospel. Our Lord knew it would be. You and I might expect that the news of this miracle, brought back to Jerusalem by numerous eye-witnesses, would lead to the acceptance of Jesus as Lord and Messiah. But the Lord knew it would have the exact opposite effect. It demonstrated to His enemies just how great a threat He was. It would set into motion the events of Holy Week, the events which we commemorate in our solemn liturgy next week. Our Lord’s gift of life to Lazarus would ultimately lead to His own death. This part of the great divine commerce – Our Lord took upon Himself our humanity so that He may share with us His divinity; Our Lord died for us so that we may have life, abundant life, eternal life. Our Lord went to His death because He knew that this would accomplish more for us than what He had done for Lazarus – not just a simple resuscitation, miraculous though it may be, but a final victory over death that would last forever.

Death is but a doorway into eternal life.  We need not fear the other side. We need not live in fear of dying from some incurable virus, or a sudden heart attack or a freak accident (like being crushed to death by the pulpit whilst preaching). We should not fear death because we don’t have to imagine how life would be like after death, or postulate a post-apocalyptic zombie scenario. No, we have it from the Lord Himself. We have seen it in the miracle of Lazarus. Death is not a dead end, an impenetrable breakwall. It is the doorway to eternal life with our Lord waiting for us on the other side.  He proved to all of us that there is life after death, by bringing Lazarus back from the dead and by rising from His own grave on Easter morning.  This is the Good News that all of mankind longs to hear.  Death does not have the final say.  Covid-19 does not have the final say. Jesus Christ does.