Laetare Sunday (4th Sunday of Lent) Year A 2026

From water of last Sunday, this weekend we continue John’s Gospel centring on light. It is still a journey of knowledge for the Elect and in a way, it is for us too.

The 1st Reading feels out of place because it details the anointing of David unless one reads it through the lens of the Responsorial Psalm. God is the shepherd who has never left His flock untended. He has come and so the focus of the 2nd Reading and the Gospel is on Christ as the light to enlighten our minds.

Firstly, there is the idea of coming into the light or proceeding from darkness into light. The movement is gradual which reveals a process which we do not always appreciate. Conversion is gradual and sometimes slow and painful.When we talk of saints, we frequently think of them as finished “products”. Truth is many of them struggled all through their lives. Many have been canonised saints only because they had persevered through the course of conversion.

Secondly, the conversation between Jesus and the Pharisees will shed light on the future of Jesus’ suffering. The prevalent view of the time was a belief heavily influenced by Job’s experience. Misfortunes and illnesses were considered to be the consequences of sin. It is illustrated by the question of whose sins they were that caused the man’s blindness. Jesus did not answer that directly though the conversation does shed light on innocent and redemptive suffering for He Himself was the prime example.

Christ who was sinless bore His rejection and suffering as an expiation for our sins. It is true that we do have to pay the price of our sins. The saying that “karma is a ‘female dog’” reflects this understanding. And yet, we are taught by the Lord’s own personal situation that sickness and suffering are not necessarily the consequence of sins. The fact that you suffer is not because God is punishing you. However, what has happened is that we have flipped the script around. Instead of suffering on account of sins, now the prevailing philosophy is to excuse sin because we are sick or suffering.

Today a disease is considered to be an excuse that mitigates a person’s responsibility or culpability. Insanity plea and compos mentis are related to claiming a lack of responsibility because a person has no control over rational thought. Our homegrown example is found in the title of a documentary called “Kleptocrats”. Kleptomania is the irresistible urge to steal. Hence, one steals because one suffers from the condition of kleptomania which in a way makes the stealing less sinful as it were. Anything can be an excuse for bad behaviour and yet we all know that there has to be accountability in which one assumes responsibility for one’s actions. It leads us to the next point.

Thirdly, the Gospel whilst it details the gradual enlightenment of the man born blind, it also uncovers an uncomfortable truth about us. As the blind man gradually gained sight, those around him became more blind. It is perhaps an invitation for us to be less arrogant and to be more humble. While we should be confident about what we know, we should also be open to our blind spots. Socrates himself supposedly said, “I know that I know nothing”. If we desire to be humble, then the people who mirrors us best are not those who praise or speak well of us. Rather, those who criticise might in fact help us see ourselves for who we truly are. In the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes, it took a child, a naïve one, to expose the truth of how group-think can blind us to what we truly need to see. It took an innocent child to point out the reality as it was--the Emperor was naked. We need light to perceive the unvarnished truth about ourselves.

Sometimes we do not have the courage to see ourselves or we might try to run away from what is true. Our addictions could be symptoms of our escape. We run away from facing reality by numbing ourselves either through excessive working, over-eating, substance abuse, binge-watching or engaging in repetitive behaviours that distract us. Solitaire, Dota, SIM City or Plants vs Zombies are some examples.

Finally, as we approach Easter Vigil where there will be baptisms, the healing process involved highlights an important element of Catholic or Orthodox Christianity. It is the incarnational underpinnings of our Sacramental system. Christ uses matter to effect a healing. He spat onto the earth to make paste to apply onto the man’s eyes.

In fact, water was last week’s sacramental matter. This week earth is used to mediate healing and restoration. All these materials are tangible and sensible and they reveal to us the underlying principle that is at work in our Sacramental system. God uses matter to effect His grace, thus revealing to us that our world, even though fallen, is still a good one.

Combined with specific words, which are the formulae we use, the material elements such as water and oil, bread and wine, the physical acts of confessing, the laying on of hands and the mutual exchange of consent make visible the invisible grace of God. Through these elements and acts directed by the formulae God communicates His grace to us. In fact, the Sacramental system actually stands upon the pivotal event of the Incarnation, an act whereby God the Son, who is the Logos, the Word, became flesh for us. Later, through His flesh and blood under the appearance of bread and wine, the same flesh and blood that suffered and flowed forth from Calvary, we are saved.

4th Sunday of Lent Year C Laetare Sunday

We would like to believe that our civilisation has become more merciful and tolerant. It would appear that for a community to be accepted as civilised it must show that it is warm and welcoming. With this kind of expectation, the margin has come to the centre, meaning that those belonging to the categories of the least and the lost are to be welcomed and celebrated. Thus, society, of which the Church is a part of, should strive to create a friendly, inclusive and hospitable environment where each person can feel respected, valued and at home regardless of background or beliefs. If John Lennon were here, you can imagine living life in peace.

Contrast this image with the present American experience. A sizeable portion of the USA thinks that Trump is a fascist dictator. In this way, he is no different from the two groups of people in the Gospel today. The Pharisees and Scribes have rigid rituals and are restricted by religious boundaries whereas Trump just wants to exclude and restrict migration into the US. What is more? Jesus is supposed to be an observant Jew and so they complained to Him about His choices of dining companions. Since ritual purity is central in a Jewish religious outlook, any engagement with outcasts will render one a social pariah. As they say, guilty by association.

Since Jesus welcomes sinners, the only logical assessment of the complaining Pharisees and Scribes is that they are basically hypocritical, unforgiving and unwelcoming. It is ironical though. While we may pride ourself as merciful, tolerant and much more enlightened than the hypocritical Pharisees and Scribes, all a person needs is to commit a grave sexual sin and he will be condemned for life. We are not as forgiving or welcoming as we would like to believe we are. Maybe we use a less graphic example. Remember David Walliams, one of the judges in Britain’s Got Talent. For something he had said in private he has lost his place as a judge in the show. Our merciful mindset has a particular measure or metric whereby one must not breach.

It brings us to this Sunday’s parable, found only in Luke’s Gospel and no other. In response to the Pharisees and the Scribes’ criticism, Jesus related a compelling parable highlighting God’s mercy. He profoundly welcomes those who are deemed unacceptable by whatever metrics we have of people. However, in the matter of God’s mercy towards us, we might want to think of our mercy towards God. This is such a weird perspective, not to mention arrogant too. Who are we to extend “mercy” towards God?

This view makes sense if we accept that we have been socialised into entitlement. We have been trained through our talks and theology to expect a God whose compassion envelops us. For example, a recurring motif of Pope Francis’ papacy has been on mercy as a way of leading us to back to God. The sad reality is how we may have corrupted the image of a merciful God to one who is possibly weak and incapable of anything but forgiveness. What appears to be God’s mercy toward us, we may have turn that gift into an entitlement.

When mercy becomes an entitlement, then repentance and conversion will no longer be necessary. St Thomas cautioned that mercy without justice is indulgence but he also balanced his warning by alerting us to the fact that justice without mercy is cruelty. An entitled generation is an indulgent lot andwe project that attitude into God. A good illustration is how we tend to frame God’s attitude towards what we have come to deem as the “Pharisaical concerns”, that is, we presume that this is how a merciful God views ritual or religious taboos. He is not bothered by our petty nit-picking attitude. “Does God really care how one dresses?”. Or “Do you think God is upset that we did not abstain on Friday?”.

Such questions may betray a presumptuousness. We presume that little things are unimportant because God is unaffected when in reality, it is we who have become apathetic. In a way, we sanctify our disregard by presuming God’s mercy. Perhaps, a good way to understand this presumption or our apathy is to look at how we treat a person of importance.

What happens when the King visits or a special person makes an appearance? We dress up and go out of our way to welcome them. When we assume that they do not care about our appearance, the truth is, we are just not bothered to honour them. In other words, God’s mercy must be reciprocated by a changed behaviour towards Him. In the context of Lent, when we ask God for His mercy, like the Prodigal Son, our response should be “I will return to my Father”. Conversion is a response to mercy.

Interestingly, the young man’s conversion is described of as a journey. “He came to his senses”. Thus, a pilgrimage is not just any excursion but rather a journey of conversion. It requires that we come to our senses by recognising our sinfulness and by repenting as we seek forgiveness.

The Elect this Sunday are meditating on the Gospel of the Man born Blind. He was healed by Jesus but the greatest gift that he received was not the gift of physical sight but rather the gift of spiritual sight to recognise Jesus as Lord. For the blind man, his healing was a chronicle of conversion. At first, Christ performed a sacramental act. He spat onto some earth, made a paste and daubed it on his eyes. Recall the ashes on our forehead that was made into a paste by Holy Water? The first sacramental act was followed by another as the blind man was asked to wash himself in the pool of Siloam. Thus, for the Elect,the aim of the Scrutinies is to deepen their Sacramental journey.

In conclusion, Laetare Sunday symbolises the forgotten joys that accompany conversion. Both the Prodigal Son and the Man born Blind are diaries of change and conversion. It appears that for the Pharisees and Scribes, conversion has been reduced to a dreadful duty—much like having to submit to Lenten fast and abstinence. Take the recent incident where a boy was slapped for eating publicly during fasting month. Imagine a squad who goes around enforcing the duty to fast or abstain highlighting that one can be lost in the chore of “doing” Lent correctly while missing out that conversion is a joyful pilgrimage. We are not compelled to make this pilgrimage. Conversion is a journey we joyfully desire and trustingly embrace because of God’s welcoming and compassionate mercy.

Laetare (4th) Sunday of Lent, Year B 2024

The colour rose is up again at this mid-point of the season of Lent. It is an anticipation, a sort of looking forward to the salvation that Easter will bring.

What can the readings teach us?

Central to these readings is the Gospel of the Gospel, according to Martin Luther. “For God so loved the world that He gave us His Son so that anyone who believes in Him may not be lost but have eternal life”. John 3:16 is the Gospel in miniature. The principal message to humanity is God’s love which is cause of our rejoicing.

How should we rejoice when the Readings are taken from the Book of Chronicles and Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians?

In the Book of the Chronicles, sin upon sin was the experience of the Israelites which resulted in suffering. The people had abandoned God and the consequence was exile and subjugation by the Chaldeans. Only when they recognised their sins were they brought back. When we abandon God, He does not forsake us. Rather He allows the consequences of our actions to take their course. However, when we turn back to Him, He shows His mercy as He did through the pagan ruler Cyrus who allowed the Israelites to return to their homeland.

The recognition of sin is the key to God’s merciful love for us. Two things to be noted here. Firstly, exile is a powerful symbol of sin’s consequence because sin destroys relationship. God does not cut us off because we have sinned. Rather our sin cuts us off from God.

 
Secondly, why is recognition so important? Without acknowledging sin, how can we appreciate God’s saving mercy? St Paul in the 2nd Reading clearly states that nothing of ours can ever merit salvation. We are saved through grace and not through our own merits. Yes, the Catholic position is that grace saves through our cooperation. Without our cooperation, even God cannot do anything for us. That makes the recognition of sin so important.

Nicodemus’ conversation gives us a clue about how God saves. Through Jesus Christ the Son. In fact, the name of Jesus saves. The ancient symbol of the serpent lifted up will now be replaced by the Son of God Himself on the Cross. As St. Augustine puts it: “God loves each one of us as if there were only one of us to love”.

With God desiring to save each of us, our challenge is therefore to deepen the knowledge of our own need for God. The inability to recognise sin makes us all less of a sinner which makes our rejoicing rather superfluous. What does it mean?

Imagine food, good food. We are at a dinner and the food is to die for. The only problem is we are not hungry. When the stomach is so full, pleasure derived from eating will instead be anti-climactic. Instead of joy, it becomes a chore because we are full and not hungry. Better still. Can you visualise taking a shower when you are already clean or be admitted into hospital even though not sick.

Perhaps this is the curse of living in a therapeutic society that is controlled by the urge and the need to feel good. Our therapeutic mentality believes that as human civilisation progresses and that living conditions have improved dramatically all these correspond to the idea that we are actually a better people. We do not need salvation as much as we need to feel healthy. Interestingly, the words “salvation” and “health” are related because true healing is found in salvation.

Soon our beloved Elect will be going for their baptism. It is the bath of regeneration. The question to ask is this: Do they need to be washed clean? If so, their baptism begs a further question: So how can we be more acute in knowing that we are sinners? How to grow in the awareness of our sinfulness so that our joy of being loved and saved by God can be manifold?

We need to wean ourselves from a therapeutic God, the idea that God’s love is to make us feel good. God’s mercy is reassuring as today’s Gospel tells us. But that love for us must be based on an acute awareness of the need for redemption and forgiveness. The role of religion is not merely therapeutic. Its objective is salvific leading us to recognise the dark corners of our hearts that need the light of Christ. We easily hide in our sins rather than let the Light shine upon them.

For Christ’s light to shine, we have a duty to reclaim our moral conscience. It is not a clarion call to self-righteousness as if one were holier than the rest. But so far, we have abdicated our responsibilities and have outsourced our morality to social media—television, radio, journals, books, computer games etc. All these media freely dictate how we should think, see, hear and enjoy. They offer a worldview that is at best neutral or at worst, they are downright evil. Daily we are presented with evil as good and good regarded as out of touch with what is “acceptable” morally.

This is the darkness that has obscured our relationship with God. Without God, there is no foundation for our moral sense or compass. Also, we sort sins into categorie big and small. Ordinarily, we equate big as bad and small as “excusable”. Everybody does it, so what is the problem? But the burden of sin is not big or small. Rather, the crush is that anyone who sins does so because he or she is unable to stop the behaviour. The meaning of sin is to be caught in a trap in which one is powerless to flee. It is this inability to save ourselves that we must embrace and know. Our impotence in escaping makes our reaching out to God all the more urgent. God mercy may be infinite but the sobering truth is that we have a greater chance going hell than to heaven if we are dead in sin.

Few people believe this truth but instead choose to remain with the comforting notion that Laetare Sunday celebrates the joy of God’s love. However, we cannot just desire God’s love without first acknowledging that we are utter sinners who need His redemption. According to St John, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us". What is there to save if we were sinless which means we would have no need of Jesus and His salvation. Therefore, what are we doing here? Without the admission of our guilt, the constant stress on God’s immense love becomes an empty gesture. This is not unhealthy Catholic guilt. Salvation is free but it is not cheap. If we desire to saved, acknowledging our sinfulness is necessary. The price paid for our salvation is none other than the Son of God who laid down His life for us sinners.

Laetare Sunday Year A 2023

Laetare Sunday marks the mid-point of Lent. The Catholic character that appreciates both our natures, material and spiritual, bids us to rejoice as we anticipate the nearness of Christ’s saving Passion and Resurrection. Last week we met Jesus the Spring of Eternal Life. This week, we turn our attention from water to the realities of light and sight, both physical and spiritual.

In the Gospel, Jesus healed a man blind from birth. The backdrop reveals a strong connexion between sin and physical infirmities. The notion prevailing then was that sin would result in physical imperfection. Hence the intense interrogation of the blind man healed as to whose sin had caused his blindness in the first place. Added to that, the healing took place on a Sabbath. That presented a dilemma for the observant Pharisees. The Gospel offers the man born blind as a model of conversion and at the same time reveals the irony of the sighted who were spiritually blind. Instead, he who was visually impaired could see who Christ was and came to faith in Him.

What sort of eyes do we need to see and believe better? As Jesus challenged the Pharisees to see beyond the narrow limits of their own world-view, He challenges us to go beyond what we are comfortable with. If we think that the Pharisees were terrible, perhaps we should survey the blinkers we unwittingly wear. Correcting our assessment of the how Pharisees operate for it might actually help us see better.

Firstly, the Pharisees have been painted in less than glamorous light giving the impression that they were hopelessly incorrigible. The word “Pharisee” itself is ladened with negative connotations. In not so many words, as we read the many exchanges between Jesus and them, they have been depicted as wilfully blind. Even Jesus was exasperated by their hardness of heart. However, our perception of the Pharisees’ wilful blindness may be a reflexion of the anti-religiosity of our present age. Organised religions because they focus on the setting of boundaries are increasingly considered irrelevant amongst modern religious sceptics who value individual autonomy and freedom. We chafe when we are obligated by religious edicts.

This bias against the Pharisees in particular and religions in general, is symptom of our own blindness. We suffer from an addiction to attention. For example, ADHD (attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) is possibly an extreme form of our age of media attention. Unwittingly, we vie for recognition because we crave to be liked. In desiring attention, we are concerned about what others think of us. The word “optics” comes to mind.

Multinationals and big companies have PR teams to handle how their corporate actions should be perceived and understood. Currently, the canon for correct corporate conduct is “DEI”—diversity, equity and inclusion. Increasingly our politics are placed under the microscopic glare of these criteria. In fact, much of our political optics is derived from posturing, theatre, drama and grandstanding.

In a climate where metaphysics or God does not exist, what we see is determined by ideas or notions shaped using the tools of branding and marketing. People do not just see what they want to see. They are also guided and manipulated to perceive what the powers that be want them to perceive. Getting the optics right is the premise of branding, marketing and public relations.

Whether we know it or not, our carefully staged social and political theatres operate within a phenomenon recently described as the echo chamber. Clearly, the Pharisees were caught in a kind of herd-think in which they merely magnify each other’s shared belief to the point that they could not see beyond the barriers of their tiny bubble. If we condemn them as narrow-minded, what about our cyber search engines that magnify this “echo” effect many times over? Try searching for an airfare on a particular airlines and soon enough the advertisements from that specific airlines will pop up on your screen. Whenever we conduct an inquiry, the algorithms that drive the search engines pre-emptively push the items which they think we want. If a person has progressive leanings, then Twitter, Instagram and the likes will channel more materials that reflect one’s liberal viewpoints. How not to be trapped in echo chambers? If the Pharisees are regarded as wilfully blind, then, we are wittingly blinded by our groupthink.

To be able to see better and beyond this blindness, we need to step out. Faith is taking that step beyond our comfort zone. Like the man born blind who risked further ostracisation by responding to the Pharisees. In a way, it requires the courage of humility. Our search algorithms are less omniscient than we perceive them to be. Even though Google is good, still it is not free from bias and prejudice. Wikipedia is good, still it is not wisdom.

The challenge of Jesus to the Pharisee was to be less dogmatic and more compassionate. The example of Albert Einstein is illuminating. He was asked about how he felt of his many achievements. His answer showed a morality which might help us walk towards a more divinely inspired enlightenment. He said, “In formulating so many of these theories, I am not interested that I am proven right. I just want to know if I had been right”.

In many of our discussions or arguments, how often have we entered into them with an arrogance that we possess the truth and as such are ready to hammer those whom we disagree with? Such readiness to force one’s position down the throat of another is glaringly evident when society is infected by ideological divide. Every medium of communication has been co-opted to take sides championed by warring factions that it is impossible to have decent conversations without the arrogance of “being right”.

The Pharisees were certain that they were on the side of right. Whereas if we were to follow Albert Einstein, we become a bit more hesitant in our moral assessment and a little less categorical in our judgement. In defending a position, we would want to know that we have fought for our position with honour, humility and hospitality even if the opposing party does not follow the same rules.

St Ignatius in the Spiritual Exercises says we ought to give the other person a better interpretation, no matter how we feel. Perhaps one can understand why Pope Francis said, “Who am I to judge”? It was not a capitulation of the faculty of judging but in the matter of grace, God can work better if we were less Pharisaical or dogmatic and a bit more charitable. It certainly makes the world feel less certain and more dangerous but we can trust that the Lord’s light cannot be extinguished even by evil men.

In conclusion, the man born blind is a symbol of the struggle between light and darkness. Like the Pharisees who are blinded by their bubble of self-righteousness, we who inhabit a deeply divided, fractured and fragmented world need the light of faith to know who Christ truly is. To be spiritually blind is to dwell in darkness which is why to have both a clearer sight and a deeper insight are constant themes during the season of Lent. In begging for the grace to use the things of the world wisely and to hold on to things that endure eternally, may we come to behold and to follow Christ the only Light who leads us to eternal life.

4th Sunday of Lent Year C 2022

As we continue on this Lenten pilgrimage, we are given the assurance of God’s love for us. The Gospel, taken from Luke 15, is unique for an insight into our response of gratitude and conversion. There are three parables in this chapter and each one deals with a state of being lost. The first is the lost sheep, the second the lost coin and the final narrative is the Prodigal Son. There is a context for them. Jesus was criticised for the welcome He gave to sinners who should have been ostracised. He consorted with sinners and prostitutes. Given our dislike or distaste for “censoriousness”, we would be forgiven if we were to “condemn” His critics as “intolerant bigots”. But were they entirely wrong? Given their cultural and religious emphases on ritual purity—which Christ Himself submitted to—they were unable to reconcile Christ’s compassion with their long-held conviction that sinners should be segregated in order to prevent ritual contamination. In a manner of speaking, their reactions were deeply conditioned by their cultural and religious framework.

In this narrative of the Prodigal Son, there are three main characters. We would be mistaken if we thought this to be a story of two brothers, one elder and the other younger and their father. It is really a narrative of two sons, not two brothers. The Son of the Father and the son of the father. St Paul mentioned Christ in the 2nd Reading, and for him, Christ is definitely different from the son in the Gospel.

What lessons can we draw from these two sons? Jesus and the Prodigal Son.

Laetare Sunday exudes a spirit of joyful lightness because Jesus presents the Father’s mercy way beyond what a religious Jew could ever imagine. To fathom God the Father’s love, consider the numerous sins of the younger son in the parable. The older brother should inherit the rights to the father’s property. Yet the father did not think twice when dividing his wealth between the sons. Furthermore, in asking for his share of his inheritance from a living father, the son has effectively wished the death of the older man. Despite these sins and a string of “faux pas”, the father unconditionally embraced the son who was lost. He not only received him back but in running out to meet the boy, the father shielded his son from the disapproving condemnation of the neighbours. More than that, killing the fatted calf meant that the disapproving neighbours would subsequently be invited to this festival of forgiveness.

In narrating this parable, Jesus places the state of being lost within the context of God’s unrelenting search for His sons and daughters. God’s persistent search for us should draw our attention to how easy it is for us to wander away and be lost. Note that it is not just the younger son who was lost. The elder brother who stayed closed to the father was lost too. The point here is that God may be forgiving but sadly, concupiscence, the effect of original sin, has left us with a proclivity for perdition.

How do we reconcile a God who desires us even when we are inclined to stray from Him? It requires that even as we take comfort in the immensity of God’s love and the sacrifice of His Son to redeem us, it also suggests that we be sensitive to sin. In other word, we should be mindful or conscious of sin because it takes us away from God. No matter how small a sin is, it is significant in the struggle for the salvation of souls.

The parable is not a one-way street movement of God’s love for us. The reply to God’s profound love is conversion. What muddles this penitential journey is that we yearn for a God who is loving and compassionate. In fact, we have come to expect  unconditional love. When translated, it can be indulgent because God is not allowed to make demands of us. The idea of a gentle and tolerant God might just be an idol we have fashioned like the Israelites at the foot of Mount Sinai.

At the heart of our conversion journey, we must appreciate that God’s mercy is justice. One cannot do without the other. In this parable, it is clear that God’s justice is merciful because it goes beyond what is exact. The confusion arises because our concept of justice is possibly closer to the idea of revenge. In fact, we even project unto God that He demands His pound of flesh. The manner we think of justice corresponds to the concept of just dessert meaning that one should get what one deserves. “Padan muka” (serves you right) as the locals say it. Like “lex talionis”, our justice is simply a case of tit for tat. To illustrate God’s mercy and justice, we use the example of a debt. Returning a person what he or she is owed is justice. It is akin to giving back $1000 for $1000 borrowed. But what is to stop the debtor from compensating more than $1000?

According to St. Thomas Aquinas “God acts mercifully, not indeed by going against his justice, but by doing something more than justice; thus a man who pays another two hundred pieces of money, though owing him only one hundred, does nothing against justice, but acts liberally or mercifully”. 

What makes it difficult to appreciate that God’s mercy is justice is our inability to differentiate between judgement and punishment. There is no doubt that we are afraid of judgement because we fear the punishment that comes with it. For example, “You watch out” definitely carries with it a retaliatory or a punitive connotation. Like Karma, something bad is about to happen.

When we associate the faculty of judgement with censoriousness or a forbidding disapproval, then the act of judging which is an existential exercise will be interpreted as being judgemental. To be judgemental is merely possessing a conceited or self-important attitude. The act of judging is not an attitude. For example, you would surely judge the safety of crossing a road before stepping off the kerb. That is not judgemental.

In God, judgement and punishment are separated by mercy. When God delays punishing us, we catch a glimpse of His mercy because we are given the chance to recognise the error of our ways, to repent, and to make lasting changes.  In God, mercy and justice are compatible because He reveals His judgment first whilst delaying His punishment. Judgement is not the same as punishment. To understand how this works, look at sin as the process of dehumanisation. Forget about “this sin” or “that sin”. Rather think in terms of "development" (or regression). If God is the source of our being, the instant we leave Him is the moment where the process of dehumanisation begins. In the parable, the entire excursion of the son was dehumanising and the symbol of the depth of his depravity was the reduction to eating food fit only for pigs.

Yet the father did not calculate the cost of embracing the son’s return. It is not because God does not care for justice. In the parable, Jesus did not mention about any punishment due to the returning son. Neither did Jesus remove the Penitent Thief, Dismas, from the cross. By the very fact that Dismas, who had been forgiven and promised heaven, still hung on the cross meant that he was paying the price of his sins. In other words, God’s merciful judgement gives us plenty of opportunities to reform or rehumanise our life.

In the middle of our Lenten campaign, we get a parable of God’s boundless love for us. Thus we are joyful. But more than the idea of joy is the notion of blessing that comes with it. God’s blessing is that He gives us time to make changes in our lives and if we have Him in mind, no matter how hideous our sins, His mercy will meet us there. Whatever purification we may have to undergo now or in the future will be nothing not because it is not painful but because we will be so taken up by His love that we will readily endure whatever purgatory in order that we can return and be with Him. Love begets gratitude and conversion.

Laetare Sunday Year B 2021

Today is Laetare Sunday and the experiences of Nicodemus is central to our Lenten journey. How so?

Firstly, do you remember the two dicta used during the Imposition of Ashes?

1. “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return”.

2. “Repent and believe in the Gospel”.

In keeping with the established etiquette, we appear to have ditched the former in favour of the latter. The exhortation to “repent and believe” surely sounds less pessimistic and more promising as it matches a culture which leans heavily on optimism. In other words, we have been socialised into a kind of thinking that is more optimistic rather than hopeful.[1]

The timely appearance of Nicodemus might give us a chance to explore further the idea of conversion and a second look into our Lenten practices and their places in this journey of hope.

Last week, I pointed out that God’s proximity is our salvation and that there is a cohesiveness between the Creator and His creatures that sees both reaching out for each other. But it is never an exchange between two equals because humanity’s enthusiasm can never match God’s steadfast quest for humanity.

Look at the 1^st Reading. Israel’s constant infidelity has only been met by God’s covenantal faithfulness as, in this instant, He overturned their exile. In other words, God was tenacious despite Israel’s rebuff. He sent prophet after prophet and finally, through the human instrument of King Cyrus, God allowed Israel to return to her homeland.

When it comes to God, punishment is never retaliatory. His justice is never punitive even though the descriptions sound vindictive. Instead, rehabilitation belong to God’s merciful ways. He is ever so gracious towards sinners as we are reminded in the 2^nd Reading. God reaches out to us even though we falter in our fervour for Him.

It is in the Gospel that we get to the heart of a love that leapt from the infinite to the finite. God gave us His Son in order to save us. Soon, we shall fathom the breadth of that sacrificial love but for now, the premise for this penetrating insight has come from our most unexpected source—one considered despicable—a Pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin.

True to his description, Nicodemus, in darkness, came to consort with Jesus. Later, there will be two other occasions for Nicodemus to make his appearances. In this first meeting, we decipher the depth of man’s desire for Truth. Interestingly, the darkness merely confirms this existential reality because no matter how lost we are in the labyrinthine maze of our condemned state, the thirst for Truth cannot be doused. While we search for the Truth that saves, it is an indubitable fact that we often look for It in the wrong places.

Nearness to the Truth has a liberating effect as we shall see in the 2^nd appearance of Nicodemus. Having encountered the Light, he now stands on the side of justice fighting to give Jesus a fair chance because the Sanhedrin, as a body, had no qualms executing Jesus without a trial. Nicodemus’ final appearance came after the Crucifixion. Touched by the Truth, he became a man of compassion. So, assisting Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus provided the embalming spices for the proper burial of Jesus—his actions are proof of a heart set free by the Truth and it becomes for each one of us, a hopeful journey because God is not finished with us yet.

And so, we rejoice for we have established that God is always faithful. His fidelity is the basis for our virtue of hope. Sadly, in some ways, our present optimism blinds us from looking at things as they are.[2] In a sense, the first dictum “Remember you are dust” is not to scare the “Bejaysus” out of us despite its somewhat “infernal” inference. The ash on the forehead with the atomic reference to our “dustiness” is a meaningful memento that prevents us from being “overly optimistic”. It is an aid to remember that we have a supernatural destiny that requires cooperation on our part. As such Nicodemus’ search for the Truth not only makes him a model of hope for us but also sheds light on the different practices we engage in during Lent.

In our Lenten practices especially around the areas of fasting and abstinence, self-restraint is not the sole objective even though Aristotle was supposed to have said “I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self”. We do not engage in these exercises for themselves as if there were a prize at the end. We know that both the acts of fasting from nourishment and abstinence from meat are good because they develop the muscles of self-control.

The moderations of self-discipline do have spiritual and social consequences. But the end or the goal is not self-control but rather the freedom that comes with the encounter with Christ, as Nicodemus showed us. In other words, our spiritual exercises are to train the heart to follow the Lord more faithfully. Hence, the freedom from greed, in Christ, is transformed into a freedom for generosity. Look at Nicodemus. It was he who provided the embalming spices for Christ’s burial. Also, earlier, after his encounter with the light of Christ, he was freed from cowardice to be free for courage. He stood against the Sanhedrin’s arbitrary definition of justice without a trial.

This is a good time to check for fruits. Have our Lenten practices made us more patient in bearing ours and others’ Crosses? Are we more ready to help others or are we more selfish, irritable and impatient? Recall that our spiritual exercises are not engaged for themselves but must help us gain a greater interior freedom to follow the Lord because the pace in the coming weeks will quicken as the forces against Jesus will coalesce. Finally, “Laetare” is joy for two reasons. Firstly, love. Through Nicodemus, we come to know the love that does not count the cost of sacrifice. Secondly, hope. We discover this love as the illumination for those who are seeking to leave the darkness of sin so as to live in the light of Truth. “Laetare” joy is also a stop before the climb. We take a breath as we search for the Nicodemus in us so that we can reach out for the light, gain our inner freedom so as to follow Christ faithfully in this journey of our salvation.

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[1] In normal conversations, we use hope and optimism interchangeably. But the former is a theological virtue whilst the latter is not. Optimism can be said to be an illusion that life’s journey ahead is simply a progression of improvement. That means, we can only get better in the future. On the other hand, hope describes an encounter with Jesus Christ. It is a theological virtue on account of our experience of God’s nearness, that neither blinds us to the immensity of our difficulties nor gives in to the despair of the future, no matter what. As Pope Benedict says, “One who has hope lives differently”.

[2] The prolonged pandemic has definitely thrown a spanner into our works. I suppose we all (namely, our economic czars, the industrial complex for production and consumption and the travel trade etc) are just waiting to return back to a normality that is markedly “consumptive” without a corresponding stop to think of the true meaning of life. Is there more to life than a series of consumption?

4th Sunday of Lent Year A (Laetare Sunday) 2020

The Gospel is an invitation to ponder the situation that we are suffering under. The prevailing philosophy for the Jews of Jesus’ time accepted a causal connexion between sin and sickness. If you were sick, it is the result of sin. So, when asked, Jesus did not entirely dispute the causal link between sin and sickness[1] but instead invited the disciples to acknowledge the sovereignty of God. Through this healing of the blind man, God will be glorified.

Sadly, the healing had to be controversial as it took place on a Sabbath. Here, we can immediately detect the catechetical undertone. We witness the slow process of darkening on the part of the so-called glitterati of the time—the theologians and scriptural scholars; those who have reason to pride themselves as knowledgeable in matters of God. Whereas the one who was physically blind gained sight and slowly but surely moved from sight to insight. He progressed into the light first through the recognition of Jesus as a prophet and then acknowledgement by worshipping Jesus as the Lord.

For our elect, we hope that at this juncture of their faith journey they too are moving like the man born blind towards the light of belief. For us, we pray that we will be spared the blinkers of the Pharisees, a hardening of the heart that blinds them to the glaringly available evidence. In other words, they can see and yet are so sightless or clueless.

In the current crisis of Covid-19, what is most glaring for us? What can it teach us? That this disease is a sign that God is punishing us? Note the question mark. The saints dare to make this connexion. St Bernadine of Siena said that pestilence or plague, famine and wars are three indications of God’s chastisement.[2] Today we shy away from such pronouncement. It does not fit into our beautiful notion of a merciful God—the Responsorial Psalms say as much—the Lord is my Shepherd. We have a God hopelessly in love with humanity. This God cares too much for us that He suffers with us. So, in our pains and deaths, God is suffering too. Indeed, misery seeks company!

Apparently, a bishop tried to explain the provenance of the virus as nature’s aberration. If you like, nature is like a stepmother to us. Thus, it should never be explained as God’s punishment, never mind that the virus arose from creation which has God as the author. In trying to excuse God as one who punishes, we end up not with a merciful God but rather a God who is weak and does not dare to exact justice. This image is definitely a poster child of a deistic god.

Furthermore, our “ecological” bent has lulled us into subscribing a notion that nature is pure and uncontaminated, whereas man is the polluter. We are shown pictures of plastic swirling in the Pacific Ocean and no prize for guessing who the culprit is: Man. On the one hand, the truth about nature is that it is more a stepmother to us than it is a mother and therefore nature can be a source of contamination for man. Try drinking natural water from an untreated source that flows through rocks saturated with cadmium? Thus, on this point, the bishop was right. But, on the other hand, the truth about Man is that he should have dominion over nature as a steward. It is a dominance that allows us to live in this world. Have you noticed that a place falls into ruin when it is abandoned? Nature takes over. In its pristine state, nature can be unforgiving and hostile. The point about this relationship between man and nature is that we have stewardship and our duty, if we follow the Lord’s command, is to humanise nature and not the other way around where we “comport” or naturalise ourselves so that the earth can be our mother. 

One thing for sure is that punishment or not, like the man born blind, the healing was God’s power manifested. If judgement is one of the last four things, perhaps we should consider that God does punish us for our sins. The last time I checked, sacred scripture supports this view. Man meets his justice, sometimes in this world but definitely in heaven. However, cities or countries do not have heaven as their goal. Where do they encounter justice? Think Jonah and the city of Nineveh. God punishes cities or countries. Hence, the three chastisements of God are plague, famines and wars; they represent God’s judgement this side of the curtain of death.

Covid-19 is showing us that there is a God. In other words, we have sinned. We are sinners one and all. When Jonah preached repentance, even the animals sat in ashes. But we, instead of turning to God, we turn to our globalised world—no less a modern Babel. A Babel which promises the unity of a people without borders; a unity which we can forge on our own. What is this but a form of blindness, a darkening because this global village is a universalisation of production and consumption. We produce in ever greater quantity in order to consume and we consume without much care for creation. God is possibly saying to us, enough is enough. The globalisation which destroys space and boundary has now by a virus defeated through social distancing.

We are looking for a healing for the world. But healing is not just a vaccine. It is also salvific. This we can discern in the Latin word “salus”. It means both health and also salvation. Thus, in our attempts to stay healthy, we should also be concerned for our salvation. Instead of turning to God, we have placed our faith solely in our ability to “conquer” nature (virus). We have forgotten that sin does make for a sick society. Yes, we do want a merciful God without justice but that is merely indulgence. The fact that Jesus did not dispute the causal link between sin and sickness might give us pause to reflect that perhaps there is conversion that we called to.

We are told that social distancing is one of the ways to overcome the spread of the virus. No one is told that perhaps conversion is also necessary. The 2^nd Reading asks us to live as children of light. What does that mean? Like the elect walking into sight, does it also mean shaking off the sins that cling to us? That being so, Covid-19, if it is not to be perceived as a punishment from God, should be a reminder to us that we ought to turn to Him for we have sinned. Enforced social distancing might seem like a prison of isolation but it could also be a favour from God to enter into the open space of prayer and conversion. It is an invitation to put out into the deep so that we can pray and be converted. This grace is a true expression of our Lenten journey.

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[1] By saying that neither he nor his parents sinned, the Lord was not saying that they were sinless.

[2] Tria sunt flagella quibus dominus castigat.