Law vs Love

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

I’ve often heard this argument dragged out of the closet to justify any departure from Church laws or teachings, “We have to be pastoral.” By being “pastoral”, according to this antinomian reasoning, is to have the well-being of people as the paramount consideration. ‘What exactly can be considered the “well-being of people?” you may ask. Well, in today’s age, this has often been distilled into people’s personal feelings. So ultimately in this context, being pastoral means not offending anyone or making them feel rejected or unwelcomed. Being pastoral seems to make that it is alright to break every rule, disobey every instruction, or even ignore every doctrinal truth, as long as this keeps people happy.

But this attempt to pit pastoral practice against doctrine and church laws flies against Catholic teaching and Scripture itself. The division between theory and practice of faith is a false dichotomy, because it would mean a division in the mystery of the eternal Word of the Father, who became flesh. Fr Dominic nails it on the head when he tells me that whenever “pastoral reasons” are cited to justify an action, it is actually “pastor’s reasons.” The goal of bending the rules and ignoring doctrinal truths has little to do with the well-being of the people. Often, it betrays the pastor’s own insecurities of losing popularity with his people.

It has always been the teaching of Christianity that the pastoral mission of the Church is ordered to the ultimate end of man, for man’s salvation. In fact, you could say that Church’s doctrinal teachings and her disciplines and laws always have a profound pastoral dimension. Therefore the Latin maxim, salus animarum suprema lex – “the salvation of souls is the supreme law.” Salvation of souls hardly means well-being of persons or affirmation of their feelings. Thus, being pastoral actually means teaching and doing what would ultimately lead to the salvation of the soul. One does not become more “pastoral” by departing from doctrine or church laws. In fact, the word “pastoral” has its origin in the Latin term “pascere” which means “to feed”. Therefore, one becomes truly pastoral by feeding the flock with the life-giving teachings of Christ and His Church and help them abide by the Church’s laws and disciplines, because these provide a clear path to the verdant pastures of salvation. This is precisely what our Lord is saying in today’s gospel.

To those who argue that our Lord chose mercy over the law, that He chose pastoral care over doctrinal truths, that He came to overturn the laws of the old, would either have to be ignorant of the words of our Lord in today’s gospel or would choose to deliberately give them an entirely different spin that radically departs from their original meaning. The Lord says, “Do not imagine that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish them but to complete them.” These words of the Lord can leave us in no doubt that His teaching, however radical to His contemporaries, was not intended to undermine the fundamental moral values enshrined in the Law. Jesus reinforced the commandments as absolute values rooted in the will of God. As such they were not subject to human accommodation. In His own words “not one dot, not one little stroke, shall disappear from the law until its purpose is achieved”.

If we are to understand this seemingly unbending stance on the part of the Lord, we must first consider what was meant when He said that He had come to bring the law to completion, that the law must stand until its purpose was achieved. A superficial and even adolescent caricature of the Law is that it was a rigid restraint limiting man’s freedom to grow and find fulfilment. The biblical understanding of the Law is quite different. The Law was God’s gift to His people. Man was destined to live in harmony with God and creation. Sin frustrated this destiny. The Law, as God’s gift to a sinful people, laid down the path whereby this end was to be achieved. Far from being a restraint upon man, the law was meant to free him of his selfishness and put him on the path to salvation. Sin, on the other hand, which is disobedience at its core - putting one’s own will above the will of the Creator, frustrates man’s destiny. It is in this sense that our Lord came not to abolish the law, but to bring it to completion. Communion with God can only come when we are in harmony with His will as revealed in the commandments.

Our Lord continued by demanding a virtue that goes deeper than that of the Scribes and Pharisees. This is truly a remarkable statement, because in Jesus’ day those very Scribes and Pharisees were considered the most virtuous. Our Lord goes on to show, by means of a series of five “antitheses” (“You have learnt how it was said  . . . but I say this to you”), that His life, and not of these hypocritical religious leaders, was the true fulfillment of the Law. In all these antithesis, our Lord seems virtually to replace the Old Covenant’s Law with a new law. But the new law is nothing other than what is revealed by the ultimate intent of the old law – perfection in imitation of God’s perfection.  In doing so, our Lord actually raised the bar instead of lowering it, by inserting His own standard into the law.  And what is this standard? “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). That is the point of the commandments: whoever wishes to be in a relationship with God must match God’s behaviour and intent. It is God who sets the benchmark, not man. Strangely, the pastoral fallacy practiced by so many well-meaning Catholic leaders often moves in the opposite direction – setting the benchmark at the lowest common denominator - to the point of bottoming out.

If the world tells us that perfection is beyond our reach, our Lord shows us otherwise. Jesus, as the Way, the Truth and the Life, is the fulfilment of that Law. In Him, the purpose of the Law, in communion with God, is fully achieved. He will spend His entire life modeling its ultimate meaning for us, “until its purpose is achieved.” Finally, the Lord accomplishes this purpose by His Death and Resurrection. Thus, we are not being asked to do the impossible, as the first reading explicitly says: “if you wish, you can keep the commandments, to behave faithfully is within your power.” To do God’s will is nothing more than fidelity, to respond in gratitude to what God offers. As the Lord promises in the Book of Deuteronomy (30:11,14), “The command which I enjoin on you today does not exceed your capabilities, it is not unreachable … for my Word is very near you, it is in your heart.”

So, what is required of us is not a change to the rules or the perennial teachings of the Church – but rather the hearts of sinners -  hearts of stone, hearts which refused to obey the commandments of God, had to be changed in order to become hearts of flesh, hearts willing to submit humbly to the laws of God.  

The disciplines, laws and teachings of the Church are not meant to infringe our human freedom; nor are they an impossible and unrelenting burden. This is because these laws, these teachings are that of Christ. They reflect the Truth which Christ brought into the world for its salvation and it is this “Truth which will set you free” (Jn 8:32). No friendly pastoral initiative, no relaxation of laws, no re-spinning of doctrinal truths, can solve man’s ultimate problems. Only Jesus Christ in His fullness, undiluted by our ingenious “pastoral” accommodations, can alleviate the sufferings of our brothers and sisters. The World needs the Truth in its fullness. The World needs Christ, who is the “Way, the Truth and the Life” (Jn 14:6). What it doesn’t need is another ‘clever’ pastoral solution. What it doesn’t need is a counterfeit.

Salt, Light and City

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 
                                                                               

Today, our Lord gives us three familiar and equally enigmatic metaphors which speak to us about Christian discipleship and Christian witnessing. He tells us that we are the “salt of the earth,” “light of the world” and “a city built on a hill-top.” Today, we scarcely give a second thought to our use of salt. In fact, we are concerned about too much salt in our diets. We also try to minimise the amount of light energy that we use. We replace still-working bulbs with more energy efficient ones. We get reminded to turn off lights when we leave a room. As for cities, so many hate the hustle and bustle of urban living, and attempt to get away from the crowd and escape to the more rustic rural life for some peace and quiet.  Today salt, light and cities enter our lives and consciousness most often as things which seem undesirable.

But during our Lord’s time, salt, light and fortified cities were critical elements to making life more livable, more complete, more secure. People had no qualms using them. But today, perhaps due to our lack of fully appreciating the context has led to some confusion about what it means to be salt, light and a city built on a hill.

In today’s gospel, our Lord tells us that we are “the salt of the earth” and “the light of the world”. Being salt and light is not optional. Our Lord did not say “you can be”...or “you have the potential to be”. He said “you are”. He does not call us to become salt and light. He says we are that already. It is a description rather than a prescription. But the descriptive form, “you are”, carries with it, a prescriptive implication, “you ought to be,” in fact it comes with a warning that unless we are these, we will risk being “thrown out.”  Through infidelity to our identity and mission we risk losing everything.

In addition to the first two metaphors, our Lord adds a third, a “city.” The Greek etymology of the word for city links it to its people, to its human residents. Thus, it is now clear that all these metaphors are pointing to us, humans of flesh and blood, and not just airy concepts or hypothetical straw men. All three metaphors have something in common. Salt does not exist for itself, but to season or preserve things; light does not exist for itself, but to brighten its surroundings; the city on the hill is constructed to provide security to its residents. The purpose and excellence of each item lies in its potential to give something to another.

So, what do we Christians have to offer others when we think of these three metaphors? The first is attraction. Good food attracts, beautiful lights attract, well-planned cities attract. This is a reminder that one of the most powerful ways of evangelisation is by showcasing the beauty of Christ, the beauty of the Christian faith and the beauty of the Church. Our Holy Father, Pope Francis reminds us that “it is not by proselytising that the Church grows, but by attraction.” (Evangelii Gaudium # 15) St. Francis de Sales, who drew many Protestants back to the Catholic faith through his gentle evangelisation, tells us that “a spoonful of honey attracts more flies than a barrel full of vinegar.” His example shows us that a life of Christian charity, virtue, and devotion can draw many souls to Christ and His Church.

But these metaphors also remind Christians that we are also meant to reveal, to expose and finally to defend. What is most immediately obvious in these metaphors is the implication that there is something deficient in the world that we live in. By saying that we are the “salt of the earth,” is implying that the world is tasteless. There is a rot setting in which is tearing our world apart. Also, with the image of light that our Lord introduces, there is the implication that this world is a dark place. The world is in need of refreshing light—life-giving light. People are wandering about, lost, unable to see, bumping into all kinds of hidden dangers in the dark, not knowing where to go or how to live life well. People are filling the void with stuff and senseless pleasures, countless things that do not satisfy. Life is tasteless and dark for far too many.

As “salt”, the Christian is to counteract the power of sin. As “light” we are to illuminate or make visible. As a “city on a hill” we are meant to provide a sanctuary to those who are lost or spiritually homeless. Our lives are to be an on-going witness to the reality of Christ's presence in our lives. As salt, light and a city built on a hill, we are meant to give testimony to the profound joy of walking with God. We become salt and light when the world sees us turning to God rather than inwardly towards ourselves, when we touch lives for good, when we affirm rather than gossip and criticise, listen rather than judge, forgive rather than get even. The Church is meant to be a beacon of hope in a world lost in moral confusion and enveloped in the darkness of sin. That beacon is bright and unmistakable in its purpose. It warns of danger. It directs to safe harbour. It provides hope for those who have lost hope. Ultimately, we are meant to “reveal” that Christ is that certain security from danger; He is our safe harbour, and ultimately He is the true source of light. We are meant to be beacons showing the way to Him.

This is why the metaphors offered to us are so important. There is something about a Christian that doesn’t fit with the bigger picture – there is something about Christians that stands out. Christians are different, they are counter-cultural, they swim against the tide, and they refuse to join the mad stampede of the masses. Christians should make their presence felt and be as impactful as possible, not so much for the purpose of drawing attention to ourselves, but drawing attention to Christ.  Our very presence not only shakes the world from its stupour, exposes the cover of lies under which it hides, brings to the surface the deficiency of its barren soul; but also tells the world that it can only find completeness and satisfaction in Christ.

But the gospel also provides a potent warning, when our salt loses its taste or we keep our light hidden, or our cities become empty fixtures, that is, we choose to blend into society and conform to its norms and morals, then we have no value to God – we become worthless. It is our distinctiveness and not our conformity which will serve to be the measure by which we will be judged. We are not meant to be invisible Catholics. We were not meant to be chameleon Christians, constantly struggling to blend into our environment for the sake of survival. Unfortunately, many Christians are more concerned with sugar coating the Christian message than they are in delivering the hard truth of the Gospel. We are meant to be salt not sugar. What good is a soldier who will not fight, a doctor who will not cure the sick, or a Christian who will not stand up against evil? What good is salt when it becomes tasteless, light when it is extinguished and a city that has become uninhabitable? Our Lord gives the answer, “it is good for nothing?”

The option of living a sheltered secluded life is never open to us. The Lord does not need a Church that hides and isolates itself from the world. Rather, God needs Christians who live exemplary and visible Christian lives in the world and demonstrate that joy and fulfillment that come not of the world but through the life in the Spirit and the radical following of Christ. And so God calls us into the darkness where our light will make a difference – to illumine and expose.  He calls us among those who find life utterly tasteless—to be salt – to create a spiritual thirst for God. He calls us to societies made up of lonely, isolated and individualistic persons – to build a city, a community of love, life and peace. Ultimately “you must shine in the sight of men, so that, seeing your good works, they may give praise to your Father in heaven.”

A Feast of Ironies

Presentation of the Lord

This week, we take a break from our usual ordinary Sunday liturgy as we return to the splendour and brilliance of Christmas. It has been said that this Feast of the Presentation of the Lord is a little Christmas, because of its association with light. Yes, Christ, the “light to enlighten the Gentiles and the glory of Israel,” has come to fulfil the promise of His Father. The narrative of Christmas comes to a close as we ourselves see, the purpose of the Incarnation - the Divine Word coming into our midst from the glories of heaven – is to bring salvation to man. That this takes place in the temple is in itself a further sign: God continues to reveal Himself to man in divine worship. Worship is not just the act of man, but it is primarily the work of God! In our liturgy, God continues to sanctify us, He continues to save us.

Today’s Feast is known by several traditional titles: Candlemas, Presentation of the Lord, Purification of the Blessed Virgin of Mary. But I would personally like to offer another title: Feast of Ironies!

Here is the first irony. In our antinomian world, where so many Christians believe that they are no longer bound by the rigours of the law because of the grace and freedom that we have received from Christ, where breaking the law seems to be a good thing and keeping the law makes you rigid, it is good to remember that both Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary came to the Temple in fulfilment of the law. Today’s feast actually commemorates two events prescribed by the Mosaic Law: the purification of Our Lady, and the redemption of her Son. The law also demanded a sacrifice. Here it is in the form of a pair of doves, which replaces the traditional sacrifice of a lamb because of the Holy Family’s poverty.

The futility of each of these actions makes them ironic. Firstly, there is futility in the ceremony of redeeming Christ. The offering of the firstborn son prescribed by the law in thanksgiving for the liberty of the Hebrew people did not apply to Christ, who had no need to be ransomed because He had no sin. Our Lord, who is the first born son of Mary, is also the only begotten Son of God. In fact, He had come to redeem the world by His sacrifice on the cross.

Secondly, our Lady was not bound to offer a sacrifice for her purification. According to Jewish law, the bleeding which a woman endured during childbirth renders her unclean. But Mary was free from every spot and stain of sin, and therefore had no need of purification because her spouse, the Holy Spirit, had preserved her from it.  Despite this, our Lady obeyed the law.

Thirdly, the offering of a dove instead of a lamb, is considered pittance by Jewish society and is the offering of the poor, had really no significant value. Here’s the irony. Something of greater value than a dove or a lamb was being offered here. Instead of a lamb, it is Christ Himself, the true Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world that is being offered.

Why would both the Blessed Virgin and Christ subject themselves to such ironical rituals? Well, the answer is simple – obedience. The Mother of God and God Himself bore the humiliation of obedience to the law, precisely to confirm its importance and fulfilment. It is by obedience to God, through law and by love, that we show most fully our desire to be united with Him.

It is such obedience that must be at the heart of worship. The humiliation and obedience of Christ and Our Lady by submitting to the Law, which clearly did not even bind them, reveals to us what is central in the holy sacrifice of the Mass. The Sacrifice of the Mass is not about ourselves, or about our own personal rights or opinions. But rather it is about God and what is due to Him. To “sacrifice” means to make sacred – to consecrate all that we are, all that we possess, our entire being, (which ultimately belongs to God) - to God. Such consecration can only take place when it is made on the foundation of willing obedience. The problem is that so many are tempted to make the Mass about themselves, about their likes and dislikes, thus leading to all forms of innovations and abuses. This is a qualified consecration, a limited and conditional sacrifice. Certainly not something which God deserves. In fact, God is often not the criterion for our actions. Rather, it is our own inflated egos and sense of self-importance that makes demands of Him and the Church.

It was the great liturgist, Romano Guardini, who reminds us, “The primary and exclusive aim of the liturgy is not the expression of the individual’s reverence and worship for God. It is not even concerned with the awakening, formation, and sanctification of the individual soul as such. Nor does the onus of liturgical action and prayer rest with the individual. It does not even rest with the collective groups, composed of numerous individuals, who periodically achieve a limited and intermittent unity in their capacity as the congregation of a church. The liturgical entity consists rather of the united body of the faithful as such-- the Church--a body which infinitely outnumbers the mere congregation. The liturgy is the Church’s public and lawful act of worship… In the liturgy God is to be honoured by the body of the faithful, and the latter is in its turn to derive sanctification from this act of worship. It is important that this objective nature of the liturgy should be fully understood. Here the Catholic conception of worship in common sharply differs from the Protestant, which is predominantly individualistic. The fact that the individual Catholic, by his absorption into the higher unity, finds liberty and discipline, originates in the twofold nature of man, who is both social and solitary.”

This ultimately is the example offered to us by the Lord and Our Lady on this Feast Day. Both were absorbed into a “higher unity,” that they were willing to put aside their privileges and rights, and obey this limited law for the single purpose of worshipping God and offering Him worthy sacrifice, which they alone could offer in perfection, because one was the Sinless One, and the other immaculately conceived by virtue of the merits of the former.

But then, it is not enough that our sacrifice, our divine worship, be based on obedience. To worship is our duty as much as it is our joy. It stems not just from the law, but also from love. Worship must be the response of one who is obedient to the law, but it must also be what we desire freely to do even if such laws did not exist. For Love is the most perfect law. It does not compel but attracts. In fact, it compels by attraction. Our obedience to the law is not opposed to our ability to love. Rather, our love is revealed through our respect and fulfilment of the law and through our freedom, channeled into the worship and adoration of God.

We are often surrounded by those who shirk the responsibilities and obligations of the law; who see them as a barrier to freedom in Christ; a stumbling-block to the love that flows to us from the Lord’s own heart. To fulfil the law, by its very nature, requires sacrifice; it requires an act of the will that demonstrates love. Yet that is why the fulfilment of the law, and the offering of ourselves in obedience of it, is at the heart of the Christian life and Christian worship. Law is nothing without love. Love is nothing without obedience; without the rigours that keep that love pure. Let this be the characteristic of our life; a witness to the perfect obedience and perfect love of Christ for our salvation, and a light to enlighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory of His people.