Sir, give us this bread always

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Last week, we took a break from our marathon reading of Saint Mark’s gospel as we read St John’s version of the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and the feeding of the multitude. This week we continue with the first instalment of the discourse on the Bread of Life which is unique to the Fourth Gospel. Like the other discourses in Saint John’s gospel, we see our Lord expounding a theological truth in the course of a dialogue - a back and forth exchange with His audience. And like other exchanges, we can’t help but smile at how the message of our Lord flies over the heads of His audience.

After having heard our Lord say that it was not Moses who gave their ancestors bread from heaven but it was His Father who is the real source of that live-giving bread, the crowd immediately demands a share in this wondrous food: “Sir give us that bread always.” In response to their request, our Lord gives this enigmatic answer, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never be hungry; he who believes in me will never thirst.” The irony of this story is that this crowd who had pursued our Lord with such eagerness to get more of Him, would turn their backs on Him after He had done explaining the true meaning of these words.

In both the first reading as well as in the gospel, we see people acting out of a sense of entitlement rather than gratitude. The Israelites complained to Moses about their lack of food. They had forgotten that it was God who had liberated them from the misery of slavery. Strangely, God in His mercy rewarded them by raining down manna from heaven. Similarly, the crowds in the gospel demand that our Lord gives them this “bread of God … which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world,” despite having feasted on a sumptuous meal of miraculously multiplied bread and fish. Instead of reprimanding them for their greed and sense of entitlement, our Lord provides them with this life-saving truth of the Bread of Life - our Lord Himself is that very Bread of Life. Yes, our Lord is truly, really and substantially present in the Eucharist today, the true bread of heaven that gives life to the world.

In these past few months where many of you have been forced to observe intermittent fasting from the Eucharist due to the lockdowns, I hope that you have had the opportunity to reflect deeply on the mystery of the Eucharist and the privilege of receiving Holy Communion. In the past, when Masses and Holy Communion were readily available, and many took it for granted because of its unobstructed accessibility, many may have unknowingly suffered a loss of the sense of the sacredness for this sacrament. As the adage goes, “familiarity breeds contempt.”

We often forget that receiving our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament is a privilege rather than a right. If it is a right, then God and the Church owes us a duty to dispense it to us without questioning our motives or disposition. But if it is a privilege, then the Eucharist is a pouring forth of God’s beneficent grace to the undeserving, a privilege which we should never take lightly. And this is why we pray this at every Mass before receiving Holy Communion: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you under my roof, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” This sense of unworthiness is also reflected in one of the two prayers said by the priest quietly before he receives the body and blood of Christ: “May the receiving of your Body and Blood, Lord Jesus Christ, not bring me to judgment and condemnation, but through your loving mercy be for me protection in mind and body and a healing remedy.”

The teaching and practice of the Church is rather clear. We receive Holy Communion only when we are in communion with God and His Church. In order to receive Holy Communion, a Catholic must be in a state of grace, meaning that no mortal sins have been committed. If one is in a state of mortal sin, then it is necessary to have those sins forgiven in the Sacrament of Penance before receiving Holy Communion. That discipline is based on the clear teaching of Saint Paul, who says that to receive the Eucharist unworthily is to invite condemnation (1 Corinthians 11:29). Saint Paul was encouraging the church to live the faith authentically, entirely and with integrity.

We who profess the faith of the Church, must live as the church commands us because through His Church, Jesus Christ calls us to repentance, forgiveness and holiness. To approach the Eucharist otherwise is to condemn ourselves at the altar of the Lord. That is why we say that the Holy Eucharist, both offers us “a healing remedy” for those who are properly disposed, but can be poisonous for those who are not. This risk comes with our freedom to live lives that are coherent or incoherent; lives that are consistent with God’s truth or not. To approach the Eucharist casually and without the fear of possible condemnation is to risk one’s eternal salvation. That is why when the Church trivialises the danger of an unworthy reception of the Eucharist, she fails to properly love those who continue to jeopardise their souls.

To modern ears, the above may sound unmerciful and unloving. Yes, love is indeed merciful, but authentic love is also truthful. Our Lord in His ministry gives us many examples: Saint Peter and the apostles, the woman caught in adultery, Zacchaeus, and the Samaritan woman. Love acknowledges that condemnation is within reach. It recognises that how we approach the altar and the reception of the Eucharist requires a sense of the sacred which is preceded by a healthy fear of the Lord.

The Eucharist is a gift, not an entitlement, and the sanctity of that gift is only diminished by unworthy reception. While it is likely that too many receive the Eucharist in a state that is objectively separated from God without having made a good confession, this is no reason to lower the bar. Low expectations lead to mediocrity not spiritual excellence, and the path to hell is pathed by spiritual sloth. This is not an issue of equity or equality but of sanctity. We are all called and challenged to imitate the Saints, which is to say to imitate Christ. None of us are perfect, as no saint is perfect from birth save for the Blessed Virgin Mary, which means that we are constantly called to repent, amend our ways and deepen our communion with God before we receive Holy Communion in a worthy fashion. Only then can we utter with true conviction, humility and gratitude, these words: “Lord, give us that bread (the Eucharist) always.”

The Feast of Plenty

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Malaysia, the Land of Plenty, a food paradise renowned for a variety of cuisines and culinary delights, had never known hunger on a large scale (except during WWII perhaps). Rather than wondering when the next meal will arrive, Malaysians often struggle with the myriad of choices that can drive one mad. Malaysians generally eat not because they are hungry, but as painful as it is true, we eat because we are greedy.

But these months of lockdown, with so many losing their jobs and their only source of income, hunger has become a reality. White flags can be seen flying outside homes and poverty relief organisations across Malaysia have been overwhelmed these past few weeks as citizens cry out for food and other assistance, amid the country’s latest seemingly never-ending lockdown. As some commentators have noted, the white flag is not a sign of surrender but has become a powerful sign of human solidarity, as people from all walks of life rush to give assistance to alleviate the suffering of their neighbours and fellow Malaysians. This uncommon sign of solidarity has strangely caused alarm to the authorities, with some even viewing it as a subversive symbol of defiance against the administration. “How dare common Malaysians do the job of the government?” The answer is simple. The government machinery, for all its boasts, has miserably failed.

As our political leaders endlessly theorise as to how to deal with this crisis, ordinary Malaysians and entrepreneurs have rushed into action. This seems reminiscent of the conversation which takes place between our Lord and His apostles in today’s gospel. While the apostles continue to debate on the next course of action, our Lord moves into action. The readings turn our attention to the problem of hunger and how God provides for His people. This is especially moving when we read it in the background of the ravages of COVID. After having contended with the Coronavirus for over a year, we now have to face the more lethal “virus” of starvation.

It is interesting how the apostles sound so much like our inept political leaders. Let’s be honest. Despite our complaints and arm-chair pontification, none of us have found a fail-safe solution to our present predicament. Like the apostles, we may be constantly arguing over the scarcity of resources and practicality of our responses. But the gospel draws our attention to the Lord and begs us to imitate Him - He sees the crowds, He recognises their need, He looks at what is available, and then trustingly surrenders it to God before He shares it with the people. And the amazing thing is that when we are no longer cracking our heads and worrying about our limited resources, we would be able to share it willingly with others and God will bless our gift and multiply it with abundance. The truth is that everyone can do something, even though it may seem as insignificant as five loaves and two fish. But this is way better, than doing nothing.

But the readings point to a deeper truth. As much as starvation and hunger are realities which must be combatted at every level, the world’s hunger for food will only be satisfied when man learns to live not simply for himself, but for others, as Christ did. It will be satisfied only when the inner law of love, and not merely self-interest and greed, governs our individual and collective existence, inspires our policies and regulates our social structures and institutions. The world’s hunger for food will only be satisfied when man learns to hunger for God.

And this is why we partake in the Feast of Plenty, the Eucharist, a taste of the heavenly wedding banquet. We partake in the Eucharist because we are hungry. Ours is an elemental hungering. We want sustenance. We crave nourishment beyond food and drink that sustain our physical lives. We hunger for life to be spiritually meaningful and for it to be redeemed from the evil and viciousness that all too often mar it. Our hunger is the human appetite to be in communion with one another. Like the thirst of which the psalmist spoke so long ago, it is also our inescapable longing for God.

The Eucharist is not a symbolic meal of intellectual concepts. It is real food and real drink, ordinary food made from wheat and grapes that we lift up to God, returns to us as the extraordinary sacrament of Christ. This is why the online Mass, though providing us with help for our prayer and spiritual lives, will never be an adequate substitute for the real thing. You cannot satisfy your hunger by reading a cook book or by watching Jamie Oliver on television. The Eucharist is not just to be admired from a distance, but to be consumed before it can release its greater power in us. In Holy Communion, our Lord unites Himself with us and we unite ourselves with others through our union with Him. It is made possible by Jesus’ act of complete surrender to the will of the Father, whereby He offers up His life, His love, and finally His body and blood on the Cross. With five loaves and two fish, our Lord feeds the crowd and satisfies their physical hunger. But with His body and blood, He feeds and saves the world!

The popular spiritual author Henri Nouwen wrote about this: “The great mystery of the Eucharist is that God’s love is offered to us not in the abstract, but in a very concrete way; not as a theory, but as food for our daily life. The Eucharist opens the way for us to make God’s love our own... Whenever you receive the body and blood of Jesus in the Eucharist, His love is given to you, the same love that He showed on the cross.” Just as food is consumed not just once but daily, we must continually go to Mass and receive the Eucharist.  It is something that gives daily nourishment and fulfilment.

Someone once suggested that in the post-COVID age of social distancing and online services, the Eucharist and Holy Communion have ceased to be relevant. But the truth is that the Eucharist will always remain relevant, it will always remain necessary as food for the journey, antidote to death, and sustenance for the soul. To paraphrase the reply of the martyrs of Abitene to the magistrate as they faced the sentence of death for attending Mass, a prohibited activity under Roman rule: “We cannot omit the celebration of the Divine Mysteries. The Christian cannot live without the Eucharist and the Eucharist without the Christian. Don’t you know that the Christian exists for the Eucharist and the Eucharist for the Christian? … The Eucharist is the hope and the salvation of Christians.”

Likewise, Christ’s miracle of the multiplication of loaves continues to have contemporary relevance. This world needs SHARING. But more importantly, this world needs SAVING. Let us not forget that it is only when, in faith and love, we give away the little that we have—a few loaves and fishes—that God blesses our poor efforts and, in His omnipotence, multiplies them to meet the hunger of the world. It is also through our little efforts of sharing our faith, that we can offer Christ’s gift of salvation to the world.

We need shepherds

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We are meant to soar

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

A popular metaphor for describing the transition from adolescence to adulthood is that of the eagle pushing her young, forcibly and abruptly, out of the nest. The falling eaglet either has a terror-induced epiphany, “Hey, I’m an eagle, I can fly!”, or hits the ground because it believes it’s a chicken. In certain respects, this is an apt metaphor for the process of discipleship. After a period of nurturing, comes the phase of challenging and breaking new ground. For those who are willing to accept the challenge, they can soar like eagles. For those who continue to have doubts about their calling or capabilities, they will forever remain grounded like chickens.

The initial phase of training the Twelve is complete, and they are ready to participate actively in the mission of Christ - to become fishers of men. The first task of the apostles was “to be with Him” (Mark 3:14), the second, is to be “sent out” (this is what the Greek word “apostello” literally means) and thirdly, to carry out the same works our Lord Himself had been doing. By this time, the apostles would have trembled at the tall order given to them: to do the same mighty deeds as the Lord. They would have been happy just basking in His fame and glory, allowing our Lord to do “the heavy lifting,” while they just did the simple work of managing the crowds. The fact that the text tells us that the Lord “began to send them out” suggests that He did not send all Twelve at once, but took time with each pair, ensuring that they were fully prepared and had the confidence to leave the nest and take flight into mission. But it is obvious that remaining in the security of the nest is not an option.

They were not to go alone but in pairs, as little units of Christian community, since their mission was to gather God’s people into a community centred on our Lord. Our Lord too chose to share His mission and ministry with the Twelve. The Church’s experience over the ages has confirmed the wisdom of this approach. We see evidence of such missionary partnership and collaboration in the Acts of the Apostles and the epistles of St Paul. Our Lord understood that a lone missionary is at risk of discouragement, danger and temptation; but a pair of missionaries can pray together, encourage and support each other, correct each other’s mistakes and discern how to deal with problems together. Moreover, under the Law of Moses the testimony of two witnesses is needed to sustain a criminal charge. Likewise, the testimony of two or more witnesses would give greater credence to the gospel.

Our Lord’s instructions regarding their traveling gear may strike us as rather austere, even by Marie Kondo’s minimalist standards. The apostles are to take nothing with them other than the clothing on their backs, sandals on their feet and a walking stick. The lack of a haversack meant that they could not even accept provisions from others for the journey - no take-aways! Our Lord’s intention is not so much to encourage asceticism as such (they are after all to expect and accept hospitality), but to emphasise that loyalty to the Kingdom of God leaves no room for a prior attachment to material security. The Apostles had to learn not to rely on their own resources but on God’s all-sufficient Providence. Because they were occupying themselves with God’s work, God would occupy Himself with their daily needs.

The disciples’ lack of material possessions also lent credibility to their message, since it demonstrated that they were preaching the gospel out of conviction rather than the desire for gain. Through their simple lifestyle, they would testify to the Truth which is proclaimed by St Paul in the second reading: “Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all the spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ.” God’s blessing was more than sufficient.

Though the disciples are instructed to refuse any material benefit or gain from their work, they are not asked to refuse hospitality shown to them by those who are receptive to their message. Hospitality shown to the disciples is synonymous with acceptance of the Gospel and the stakes involved in accepting or refusing the Gospel are high. Our Lord equates the response given to His apostles with a response to Himself. To welcome them, is to welcome Him. And to refuse to listen, is to forfeit His invitation to eternal life. This, therefore, explains the instruction of shaking off the dust from their feet. This action was not just a matter of hygiene. It was a symbolic act of repudiation, meant as a warning to those who reject the message. For the Jews, the soil of Israel was holy, therefore, upon re-entering the Holy Land after a journey, they would shake the pagan dust off their feet as a sign of separating themselves from Gentile ways. Here in this context, this action pointed to the fact that our Lord was establishing the new Israel, and those who rejected His message, would also be excluded from the Kingdom.

How about us? As the Lord chose and sent out His apostles in those days, He continues to call us and send us out as His messengers, in these days. What is clear is that we cannot volunteer for this job. In fact, all of you have been chosen from the beginning, before you were born. As St Paul reminds us, we have to be chosen, “chosen for (the Lord’s) greater glory.” Since you have been chosen and you did not apply for the job, there are no specific credentials. As the prophet Amos reminds us in the first reading, you do not need to belong to a particular elite group of trained professionals. The One who chooses you for mission, will empower you for mission. You are not meant to spend the rest of your lives in the comfort and security of a risk-free nest. You were never meant to stay put and stay grounded. You have been chosen because you were meant to be sent – you were meant to soar. You are born eagles meant to rule the skies, not chickens bound to the earth.

God's Faithful Messengers, not Public Relations Officers

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Our Lord wins admiration throughout the land except in His own town. You would expect that His fellow townsfolk would be exhilarated and would have given Him a hero’s welcome to fete His accomplishments and fame, the very fame that had made His hometown famous - He’s not just Jesus but Jesus of “Nazareth”. The small insignificant town could never have made it into the big leagues without the help of their most celebrated son. But instead, He encounters failure and rejection. Saint Mark poignantly notes: “And they would not accept him.”

That Sabbath, as was His custom in other towns, our Lord begins to teach in the synagogue. His townspeople were “astonished” when they heard Him but their astonishment was not one of admiration as in the other places. Here, it took the form of incredulity. In their minds, our Lord was just “one of the guys”, nothing extraordinary about Him, in fact their familiarity with Him and His family led to a sort of contempt. Their disdain for Him even suggests that our Lord was only fit for the carpenter’s job, that He had been associated with. He could not amount to anything more. And so, they asked, “Where did the man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been granted him, and these miracles that are worked through him?” These questions did not reveal a sincere search for the truth but rather betrayed their indignant scepticism.

The result of their incredulity seemed to have impacted our Lord’s power. But it is not that our Lord lost the power to perform miracles in their midst. Their lack of faith was the real problem and the obstacle. It would have prevented them from seeking out the Lord to ask for a favour. If they have a roof to mend or a furniture to make, then the obvious choice was to look for Jesus, the carpenter, the Son of Mary. But if they were looking for a miracle, Jesus would be the last candidate on the list. If they are always looking out for the faults and shortfalls of the other, they will be prevented from recognising the action of God even if this was to take place before their eyes.

What are some lessons which we can take away from this disturbing story, a story which seemed to show up the powerlessness of our Lord?

First, our Lord shows us that it is okay to fail but it is not okay to give up. The fact is, every wonderful invention, every widely held positive belief turned into positive action, is the direct result of someone who did not give up. It’s also a fact that you’re going to fail once in a while, no matter how hard you try not to fail. Everybody fails. Yes, everybody, including our Lord in His hometown. The important thing is how you respond to your failure. Our Lord refused to be beaten, to be cowed into submission, to be discouraged and pushed back to His old life, a carpenter living in anonymity. He understood that what seems to be failure, may actually be victory and success. This is what happened at the cross.

Second, our Lord shows us that the true measure of success is not public approval, it has nothing to do with what people think of you. If everyone of us allows other’s opinion to shape us, we will no longer have any firm bearing or direction. Our Lord’s life shows us that the true measure of our worth, is not determined by success or public opinion but by our fidelity to the Father’s Will. We should only be concerned with doing the Father’s Will, even if that means receiving mockery, rejection and opposition from others, including our loved ones and closest friends.

Third, the story teaches us that knowing something about someone does not mean we know everything about the person. How often have we been guilty of sizing up someone, putting them into a box, dismissing their potential and drawing lasting conclusions about their true worth? Let us be honest. Many of us have done that, and repeatedly still do it. Dismissing someone whom we do not like may have dire consequences. We could be turning our back on God who is using this person to speak to us.

At baptism, you have received a share in the triple munera of Christ as priest, prophet and king. A priest is meant to worship, a prophet is meant to speak and a king is meant to lead. When we abdicate these roles in our daily lives, we are turning our backs on our baptismal identity and the call of Christ to be His representatives on earth. Admittedly, being a prophet and to live and speak prophetically is never easy. To stand against the world of denial is an extremely lonely occupation and it leaves many isolated from society and without honour in their own family. But remember - a prophet is only despised in his own country. Christ, possibly more than any other prophet, knew this. And it is in Him that we would find our model and inspiration. A prophet doesn’t take his cue or directions from his audience. He takes it from God.

In Christ’s life, we come to learn that it is okay to fail, but not okay to give up; that the true measure of success in our vocation is not public acceptance but fidelity to God’s plans; and finally, that we should never be too quick and arrogant to boast of our knowledge, for when we are so conditioned and limited by what we think we know, we will never be truly open to what God wishes to reveal to us. At the end of the day, we are called to be God’s faithful messengers, and not the public relations spokesmen with a human agenda.

All Lives Matter

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Recently, we were warned by the public health authorities that the current spike of new infections has placed an unprecedented enormous toll on health facilities and personnel that may be pushing our doctors to make the most painful decision - Sophie’s Choice - deciding who gets the treatment and who doesn’t - which ultimately translates into choosing who gets to live and who has to die. So, what sort of criteria is being used? Would the decision be made on a first-come, first-served basis? Should we prioritise the severely ill over the less serious patients? Should we reserve our resources for those who have a better chance to live? None of us want to be in the shoes of the person who has to make these choices. None of us would want to play God. And every one of us would want to be the person who is given a second chance.

Our Lord seems to have been placed in a similar difficult spot, when He is forced to choose between the young twelve-year old girl who is dying and the older woman who had been suffering for twelve years. These little details are deliberately mentioned to show that these two stories are mirror images of each other. If you were given a choice to attend to the needs of only one of them, who would you choose? The younger woman who is in a more life-threatening situation and has a longer life ahead of her, or the older woman who had suffered pain, humiliation and alienation for twelve years, and it would be unbearably cruel to allow her to suffer a second longer? But being the Lord, He chooses both and He chooses life over death.

This lengthy passage forms what scholars sometimes call a ‘sandwich’: St Mark is particularly keen on putting one story inside another; as today, the story of the woman with the haemorrhage is the filling and the story of the raising of the official’s daughter, the bread. The two are juxtaposed in order to help interpret one another. What the two stories have in common, over and above being examples of the divine power at work in Jesus, is that not only some lives matter but both lives matter, in fact all lives matter in the eyes of God. One life is not more important, nor more valuable, than the other.

The story does not merely show that our Lord was concerned with all lives, young or old, a foetus in the womb or a fully grown adult, sick or healthy, Jew or Gentile, man or woman, Saint or sinner, but He had come not just to address our physical ailments and restore us to health but He was keener in giving us life in abundance, an antidote to death. What He did for the little girl was a prelude to what He was planning to do for all of us - the resurrection of the body. As the first reading reminds us, “death was not God’s doing. He takes no pleasure in the extinction of the living.” Neither does our Lord take pleasure in our suffering or death.

Indeed, death connects the interlocking stories of Jairus’ daughter and the woman. Both supplicants know they face the immediacy of death. Yet, their encounter with our Lord culminates in victory over death. The woman suffering the chronic illness, an illness that would probably have led to her death, is healed. The resuscitation of Jairus’ daughter also proves that the Lord does not only have power over sickness that may lead to death, He also has the power to overcome death and wrest its victims back from the grave.

For Christians, though, it's not always easy to encourage life around us. We live in a culture that doesn't foster life but anti-life. St John Paul II, in his writings and preaching, have constantly placed a spotlight on what he calls the culture of death - it is a culture where choices once unanimously considered criminal and rejected by the common moral sense (like abortion or euthanasia) are gradually becoming socially acceptable.

On the one hand, we fear life. Children are seen as a burden. They get in the way of our careers, our ambitions. They make a mess of our bodies, our homes, and our lives. People with disabilities scare us because we don't want them to put pressure on our resources. On the other hand, we also fear death just as much as we fear life. The thought of visiting a terminally ill or an ageing person paralyses us. Mercy killing is a euphemism created by modern society to soften the reality of what it is in reality – murder. We claim that it is an act of mercy, that we are putting someone out of his misery and not wishing to prolong his suffering, but the truth is that, it is another convenient way to unload another burden. We can’t bare the inconvenience and pain of supporting another person who is in pain, and so we choose to remove them from our sight. If Pope St John Paul II was renowned for highlighting the danger of the culture of death, Pope Francis frequently speaks about a “throwaway culture” in which unwanted items and unwanted people, such as the unborn, the elderly, and the poor, are discarded as waste.

This is the reason why it is incumbent on all Catholics to promote and foster a culture of life, that all life should be considered sacred from the moment of its conception till death, that a person is to be valued as a person for who he or she is, a creature of God, and not by what he or she owns, does or can produce. To transform our culture into one which respects and defends human life, it is necessary to speak of a deeper and a greater truth: All human life is sacred. God is its author. We do not own it.

Each of us has gifts to bring to this challenge. Each of us has a responsibility to help bring about a culture of life. No one is exempt. We are asked to teach persuasively on behalf of unborn children and the elderly, and defend their rights because this is where today's struggle is most costly in human lives. Being indifferent, walking past and refusing to stop, ignoring the pleas of desperation are never options. Although we cannot save every person from the ravages of sickness or death, we can save every soul by leading them to Christ who alone can save them, body and soul. In the Nicene Creed, God the Holy Spirit is referred to as “The Lord and Giver of Life.” Only He is able to truly create the miracle of life. Only God can restore us not just to health but to the resurrected life. But we can share with Him as He works, affirming it in others and fighting for life where we see death and decay in our hearts and in our world, because “all lives matter”, and not just whenever it is convenient.

Let us cross over to the other side

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Our story begins with an invitation from the Lord: “Let us cross over to the other side!” This shouldn’t be a problem at all if you are convinced that the grass is greener on the other side, or you possess an exploratory spirit and every adventure is a moment of serendipity. But I guess most of us are not wired this way. We would rather stick with the tried and tested. We are not sure if the other side would be rife with danger or the crossing may prove to be perilous too. The familiar, on the other hand, offers no surprises. This may be why change is often resisted, risks avoided and why we would often wait for others to take the initiative.

Today, our Lord is inviting His disciples to cross this barrier of water. The sea itself shouldn’t have been that formidable since a number of His Apostles were themselves seasoned fishermen. They should have been in their element. But there is more to this. The sea or lake of Galilee served as a natural boundary between its Western and Eastern shores. To its East, we have pagan territory, the land of unclean livestock and violent demoniacs. To the West, we have the predominantly, albeit nominally, Jewish territory. Strangely, this so-called Jewish territory was not immune to demonic activity. Demons do not discriminate between Jews and Gentiles, both are fair game for the diabolical. Although both populations shared much in common in terms of language and culture, the Jewish rules of ritual separation ensured that the religious boundaries were meticulously guarded to prevent any casual crossing.

But then our Lord issues this command to His disciples, “Let us cross over to the other side!” The comfortable status quo is challenged. The Church will not be limited by these human barriers nor will she be defined by any sectarian divisions. In response to Rudyard Kipling’s claim in his poem, “Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,” we Christians sing a very different tune as we proclaim that, “in Christ, there is no East or West.”

But the crossing would not be easy as demonstrated by the squall that overtook the party as they crossed the lake in their boat. The powerful storm at sea could be a symbol for the disciples’ resistance to cross over. It is so much easier to remain safely on the shore, on the familiar and comfortable side, rather than risk capsizing and drowning in the midst of crossing. We cling tenaciously to the known, and choose familiarity over risk. Just like the disciples, we cry out to God in fear and desperation: “Master, do you not care? We are going down!”

Perhaps, what is needed is a reality check from the Lord. Our Lord speaks these words with authority: “Quiet now! Be calm!” I’ve often wondered whether He was addressing the winds and the waves, which was unnecessary since He is Lord of the winds and the waves. But these words could easily have been addressed to His disciples in response to their childish and cowardly whining. Likewise, when we complain to God to save us, our Lord may be telling us, “Quiet now! Be calm!”, which is not only a rebuke but a consoling assurance that He is in charge. Our Lord is asking us: “Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?”

So, what could the turbulent waters in our lives look like? Here are some possibilities.

Change, and the fear of change and commitment may be a frequent storm for many. Clinging to our comfort zones, to what makes us feel cosy and secure may be the greatest obstacle to discipleship and following of Christ. When we fear stepping out or stepping up to a mission entrusted to us, we are practically telling the Lord, “It is too difficult! I’d rather remain on this side of the shore.” Many would choose safe anonymity over being in the blazing spotlight of leadership. When our Lord called on the first disciples, He was asking them to leave everything behind, to deny themselves and to take up their cross in imitation of Him. The gospel story would have turned out differently if the disciples had hesitated and chosen to hold on to their current security. There will be no Church. We will not be here.

Many fear the crossing because they fear failure, which is actually a fear of negative public opinion. When we are so conditioned by what others think of us, we do not have the courage to take risks. We will always choose the safe path, the path of least resistance and minimal difficulty. But our Lord routinely crossed barriers that made Him unpopular. Our Lord ate with the wrong people, talked to the wrong people, and often did the wrong things. He routinely upset the religious establishment by loving people that were off-limits. He did all these because He was guided by the Father’s will and His love for the people.

Finally, in an environment which is deeply polarised, it is almost impossible for persons on either side of the aisle to cross the divide. Enmity raises barriers which prevent crossing. It is so much easier for us to keep our enemies at a distance. But our Lord invites us, “Let us cross over to the other side!” He is inviting us to go beyond our pride – to reach across the aisle and offer forgiveness and seek reconciliation. Saint Augustine gave a similar interpretation of our gospel passage. He wrote: “when you are insulted, that is the wind. When you are angry, that is the waves. So, when the wind blows and the waves surge, the boat is in danger, your heart in jeopardy, your heart is tossed to and fro. On being insulted, you long to retaliate. But revenge brings another kind of misfortune - shipwreck. Why? Because Christ is asleep in you. What do I mean? I mean you have forgotten Christ. Rouse Him, then remember Christ, let Christ awake within you, give heed to Him.” So, if you wish to overcome the barriers of hostility, you need to awaken Christ within you.

As much as it seems safe to remain in our secure comfort zone and do nothing, this will not lead to salvation. If we wish to follow the Lord, we must be willing to “cross over to the other side.” The true antidote to enmity and the fear of earthly dangers, inconveniences and public humiliation is the fear of the Lord, the reverent awe of a God who is master of the winds and the waves, and every storm in our lives. “He who fears the Lord is never alarmed, never afraid” (Sirach 34:14). The crossing from this side to the other side may seem impossible. But with Christ in the boat, we know that the journey will be possible. The “others” from the other shore are waiting for you to cross over. The “other” could be a stranger or an enemy or your worst fear. And though we may be wary of the reception we will get or the risks that we would have to face, our Lord persists with His invitation: “Let us cross over to the other side!” Let us trust Him. Let us follow Him. Let us take the first step in faith in heeding His call.