24th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

This week, we arrive at the tipping point in Mark’s Gospel, for it ushers in the final phase in the life of the Messiah. The Lord begins now His journey onto Jerusalem—the place of his death, resurrection and ascension. The Gospel event is pivotal because Peter’s confession, even if he did not fully understand it, affirmed that the hope of the past was now about to take shape as the Pascal mystery began to unfold. What the ages of the past had longed for will now be fulfilled through the Passover of the Christ. Significantly the confession took place in Caesaria Philippi¹, a city which overlooked the pagan country from whence the source of the great river associated with baptism flowed. With such a riverine association, you can already sense that Peter’s profession at once brings us into the territory of evangelisation.

In terms of the Gospel passage on the profession of Peter, there are a few points to be considered or clarified if we want enter into a discussion of evangelisation. Firstly, any reference to the Messiah was always pregnant with political overtones and here, the Lord tried to disabuse the Apostles of this notion by speaking of Himself as the “Son of Man”. This was a term which pointed to the Eschaton or the end time and therefore was devoid of the jingoistic connotation associated with the word Messiah. Furthermore, the need to correct any misguided understanding that Peter had, was supplied by Mark’s unflattering report of Peter’s rebuke by Christ Himself. Mark, as Peter’s close associate, would have preferred a kinder report of Peter but the inclusion of a less than positive image of Peter proved the veracity of this incident and it brings us to the point that is important when we want to consider discipleship.

Built into the definition of discipleship is the certainty of suffering. Those who follow Jesus must contend with this unavoidable reality. Thus, the first reading supplies us with the image which, if we are not familiar with, we ought to get used to. It is the song of the suffering servant whose life witnesses not only to faith but also to a faith that is purified in the furnace of suffering. At one level, this is the meaning of Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Christ. All saints know this and accept this as part and parcel of their confession.

At another level, the confession leads us to another plane where is often interpreted as one which proves Peter’s primacy. But, that primacy is quite secondary. It is more likely that Peter’s faith is analogous to the Church’s faith or the Church’s faith has to be synonymous with Peter’s confession. In a climate which considers the Church as irrelevant², we recognise here that the Church is a necessity because the question that Christ posed to Peter must reverberate throughout time and to the ends of the earth. Our Lord and Saviour seeks an answer from humanity. “Who do you say that I am?” Thus, the Church founded on the rock of Peter must ring out unequivocally the answer: “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God”.

She exists, not just as an instrument of salvation. She exists so as to proclaim loudly and clearly that there is a Saviour in a world incapable of hearing the Good News of Salvation. And this is where we have gone south with our mission to evangelise and to proclaim. Either we fear, under the intolerant glare of relativism, that our kerygma is basically one amongst many OR, more likely, that we ourselves no longer believe in the kerygma.³ As a result, we shy away from the evangelisation and proclaiming. Instead, we are reduced to consorting with other religions on areas of mutual cooperation especially in the arena of ethics and morality.⁴

What might explain this distancing from conviction is the disconnection or the gap between what would be the ideal and what would be the reality. In short, the truth of our message has been compromised by the lack of credibility.⁵ The Second Reading confirms this by stating that a faith that does no justice is no faith at all. Credibility is in short supply.

Today, we are cowed by the reaction we will get rather than strengthened by the courage of our conviction. Evangelisation and proclamation must take place in the theatre of cultural wars where intolerance is directed against anyone who or anything which dares to proclaim that it stands on the side of truth. In such an intolerant world, anything is “true” except truth itself. Yet, to paraphrase JPII, we must proclaim the truth. We do not engage in attacking those who do not accept it because they are too many. We teach the truth because there is a grace attached to truth which unfolds itself at the time when it is appropriate.

And the truth we proclaim is spelt with a capital “T” and this Truth is a person, Jesus Christ. He is not a clever speaker, a good manager or even an excellent community organiser. He is God. In this endeavour to proclaim and evangelise, Cardinal Avery Dulles describes three foundational principles we must hold to: "Firstly, that there is a God. Secondly, that he has made a full and final revelation of himself in Jesus Christ and thirdly, that the Catholic Church is the authorised custodian and teacher of this body of revealed truth." The Catholic faith is not a set of doctrines. It is a lived encounter with Christ, who lives in, and teaches through, the Church.

The mission to evangelise and proclaim the central kerygma of the Christian message is set within the context of Church. There was a popular saying repeated almost mantra-like in the 70s onwards, and echoes of which we still hear, which went like this: “We are Church”. This is true. We make up the Church and in an epoch where the stress on personhood⁶ is important, this relativises the hitherto general idea we had that “Church = building”. Certainly, in an era where institutional authorities “lie” routinely, such an anti-establishment/anti-institutional bias does find acceptable resonance with the faithful. However, consider that the contrary of “We are Church” is not true. The Church is not us. The Church cannot be us because the sum total of every living Catholic on earth is not the reality of the Church. Instead, she is Ecclesia militans, Ecclesia penitens and Ecclesia triumphans.

When we look at some of our bishops, we probably might despair. When we see some of our priests, we simply lament. When we observe our religious, we can cry. When we examine our married couples we throw in the towel. But the Church is not all these. She is more. Our despair, lamentation, cry and resignation merely expose the shortcomings of our faith. Our faith is really in our “ability” (the self-made man/self-made Church) and certainly not on Christ and His Church and certainly not on Christ to lead, guide and to protect His own body.

Yes, we are Church but the Church is more than us and even when our voices are blunted by sin and our proclamation is muted by our cowardice, the Church remains resolutely faithful as she stand at the side of Peter to shout out loudly and clearly the very answer to the question that Jesus asked of Peter and the 11: You are the Christ, the son of the Living, Saviour of all mankind. She cannot fail because She has the promise of His Holy Spirit.

¹ There is another city Caesaria Maritima and the name suggests that it is a coastal city. But, this Caesaria Philippi was a city built on top of an enormous rock, by King Philip, to honour the Caesars. The symbolism cannot be missed in the context of Christ building His Church on the rock of Peter.² However irrelevant we think the Church may be, she grows out of the event of the Incarnation. It might sound a little overboard to consider that she is a logical conclusion of the Incarnation but, here, we are not divinising the Church but merely acknowledging how the Incarnation must play itself out, if we were to accept it fully.³ The “instrument” of salvation must also be the “good news” of salvation. Unfortunately, this is not always possible because the conventional Gospel today is markedly the Gospel of Nice and in so many instances, the Church is fearful of reactions rather than She reacts in a world that longs to hear the voice of the Shepherd.⁴ It is a logical consequence of a heresy that “all religions are equally valid”. If all religions were equally valid, then the choice amongst them is not a matter of conviction about truth but only of personal preference or life-style. Furthermore, when transcendence is eschewed, then the struggle for a better humanity is all we need. With that in mind, how else can we bridge the chasm of solitary existence except through mutual cooperation so that the world can still “function”. Check out John Lennon’s seductively persuasive lyrics found in the song: “Imagine”. “Imagine there’s not heaven, only a brotherhood of man”.⁵ We have to deal with a phenomenon which the Spaniards termed as “Leyendra Negra”, translated as Black Legend. They coined the term to describe the outlandish and exaggerated accounts concerning events such as the Spanish Inquisition and the Spanish colonialisation of South America to provoke an “anti-Spanish” reaction. Likewise, it is said that anti-Catholicism is the last accepted prejudice in the Western world. Today, the Black Legend concerning the Catholic Church is that a proportionately miniscule number of paedophile and child-abusive priests has become the norm. Whatever good that is done by the greater majority of priests or religious has simply been air-brushed out of history.⁶ We cannot postulate a society or build a communion based on the tenets of secular individualism—it is like a net which cannot hold water. Instead, like stretched gossamer, we are suspended between the two extremes of “totalitarian socialism” and “crass individualism”.  Many of the crises we encounter today are the results of a 300-year humanistic—politicians, economists, philosophers—effort to construct a society without God—a society where God does not exist. Our society is founded on lies, the three lies of secularism, relativism and individualism. Their inner logic reveals a tyranny which can only be classified the tyranny of relevance. Nothing is absolute and only “I” and its whims are the ultimate measure. Thus, an ecclesiology that is “person-centred” cannot fully overcome the question of legitimation. Personal relationship with Christ is good but it does not stand on solid ground if the Church were not involved. For example, a person claims he wants to celebrate the Eucharist. Who legitimises that celebration? Himself? I doubt so.

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Last week I touched a little on this phenomenon which is called conventional wisdom. It is a kind of collective and received wisdom which we subscribe to unconsciously. When unquestioned, it can become a form of coercive force that imposes itself upon us. What we would call peer pressure is an expression of conventional wisdom unquestioned. It is all around, if you think about it. For example, there is a concerted national propaganda that is imposed upon us. It proposes a heart-warming vision which, given the polarisation and division afflicting this country, we would all want to embrace. I leave it to you to guess what that vision is called.

The point is, the three readings also put forward a kind of vision, not unlike our so-called national rhetoric. In the vision of Isaiah, a magnificent future is promised to God’s kingdom where everyone, including the disabled,¹ will rejoice. The second reading endorses this vision by advancing a world free from the division of distinction—be it colour, creed or wealth. In the Gospel, the vision of Isaiah is concretely fulfilled as Christ ushers in the new kingdom through the miracle of healing for the deaf and dumb man.

What is of interest to us, considering what we are commemorating this evening, is how the miracle was reported. In fact, for the Eucharist later on, the necessity that the words of consecration be said according to the rubrics’ set formula is confirmed by the manner Mark reported the miracle. Firstly, Christ took the man aside and He touched his ears and applied spittle on his tongue—both are deeply sacramental acts. Secondly, the point which is central to our reflexion is the retention of a word native to Christ’s language: “Ephphatha”. It is translated as “be opened”. However, Mark’s deliberate use of its Aramaic form is due to the Semitic belief that power resides in the word used and therefore, any translation of it would have affected its efficacy.²

Beyond the primary means of perception and therefore communication—touch, taste and smell--words are important because the sense of hearing (and therefore speech) is the next to be developed after these three. Parents who are interested in giving their child a head-start in life would make the baby listen to music even when the child is still in the womb, proving that there must be some truth to the fact that we develop the sense of hearing first before the sense of vision.

Words are not only important; they are also powerful. Unfortunately, we are not at home with words. Given our bias towards what is called the audio-visual medium and the accent here of the audio is not sound but noise, we have become estranged from the house of words—the house of proper communication. Consider that we do not even construct proper sentences—OMG, LOL, TTYL, BRB and IMHO etc. And furthermore, the modern technologies especially of the electronic media have allowed us the kind of immediacy and the intimacy which hitherto were only allowed face to face—either through speech or even the absence of it. Our so-called world wide web provides the condition for the possibility of communion. It has become easier for us to connect with one another—iMessage, Whatsapp, Facetime, Facebook etc. However, when we communicate without physical presence, we also run the risk of superficiality. For example, those engage in predatory behaviour would usually have an avatar which is captivatingly pleasing and innocent like a 35 yo offender who poses as a 12 yo girl.³

The Malays have a proverb: “kata dikota”. Speech is to be “fortified” meaning that we stand or fall on our words. Words must be seen in deeds, according to St Ignatius. And this evening, we also come to celebrate the wedding anniversary of a couple: Patricia and Joseph. Their wedding photos would have faded a bit but of course, with digital technology you can retouch the photos etc. The fact remains that even time may have passed, what have endured are your words… “I, so and so, take you to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health till death do us part”. These are the words that you can take to the bank.

By the way, we never really give the word “bank” a second thought but those of you who belong to the ancient tradition (trust me, you would want to be that), the word “bank” is actually built on the foundation of words “I give you my word” because that was it in the days when banking was done over a table and one’s word was as good as gold. You remember the first generation of immigrants who came to this country and that when they said something, they meant something. Imagine a building was built not on contracts signed but on words. A man is only as good as his words.

Words are powerful. They can maim. They can heal. They can bring despair or hope. We appear to have forgotten the binding power of the word. And, in an era which can be described as post-literate, we hear that a picture paints a thousand words and yet it was the Word through Whom the world was created. We may be made in His image and likeness but still, it is through His word that we are created. Therefore, we need to return to the promise inherent in the words we use.

Why? In the context of the anniversary we are celebrating, the Church stands or falls through marriages. Listen to how the preface to the wedding is phrased: For you have forged the covenant of marriage as a sweet yoke of harmony and an unbreakable bond of peace, so that the chaste and fruitful love of holy Matrimony may serve to increase the children you adopt as your own. By your providence and grace, O Lord, you accomplish the wonder of this twofold design: that, while the birth of children brings beauty to the world, their rebirth at Baptism gives increase to the Church, through Christ our Lord.⁴ The question is: “How else will the Church grow if not through the baptism of infants?”

Marriage is essential to the Church’s growth but regrettably, conventional wisdom runs counter to marriage as a sacrament of fidelity; a sacrament of permanence. It is much easier to give up than to hold on and to say that marriage is needed because of the Church’s growth is a selfish way to putting it, no? It sounds selfish because there could be couples who may have tried and tried and tried. And yet, failure does not invalidate the truth that marriage’s stability is necessary for the family’s health. Our children, your children already have to put up with the vagaries of a relativistic world, where nothing is constant and everything is in a flux, so you can imagine what the impact would be like when the world at home is no different from the world outside. It is immensely frightening for children. Hence, a stable marriage—here stable is not the same with perfect⁵—is necessary for the future of the family, the future of the Church and if you like the future of civilisation.

At the beginning, we started off by talking about visions. Isaiah’s vision of the future world necessarily embraces the wheat-fields of good and solid marriages. We believe that God’s vision for creation began through the Word and is sustained by the Word. In a fragmented post-literate world, the world wide web is the new Gutenberg highway through which our words must traverse. A philosopher once said, “Language is the house of Being”. For our Christian vision to take shape, we must ensure that every word that passes through it counts. You can begin by being true to your words before and after marriage or in and out of marriage.

¹ Or nowadays, “conventional wisdom” dictates that we use the term differently abled. Yes, PC is an imposed conventional wisdom.
² Perhaps we can understand why the Koran cannot but be set in the Arabic language. It is God’s word as dictated to the Prophet Mohammad. The difference between the Christianity and Islam is that the Word became flesh whereas the Koran remains God’s word pure and simple because it records God’s dictation to Mohammad. According to Dominus Iesus, “The truth about God is not abolished or reduced because it is spoken in human language; rather, it is unique, full, and complete, because he who speaks and acts is the Incarnate Son of God. Thus, faith requires us to profess that the Word made flesh, in his entire mystery, who moves from incarnation to glorification, is the source, participated but real, as well as the fulfilment of every salvific revelation of God to humanity, and that the Holy Spirit, who is Christ’s Spirit, will teach this “entire truth” to the Apostles and, through them, to the whole Church”.(§6)
³ The exchange of information has the potential of building the community. However, the posing of a 35-year-old man as a 12-year-old girl shows how easy it is through the media to go exceed or diminish reality. Anonymity allows us to be uninhibited. But what has happened is that misery has sought company in that “likes” seemed to have bred “likes”, meaning that if a person can be perverse and is not ashamed to flaunt it publicly, it gives others also the courage to do the same. And therefore, what was once private has now become public. We exchange private information publicly and unabashedly. This is symptomatic of our craving for the Garden of Eden where the promise of the E-Garden is nakedness with no shame.
⁴ For comparison, check out the older text. The newer text brings out much better the context of the increase for God’s family—through baptism. “By this sacrament your grace unites man and woman in an unbreakable bond of love and peace. You have designed the chaste love of husband and wife for the increase both of the human family and your own family born in baptism. You are the loving Father of the world of nature; you are the loving Father of the new creation of grace. In Christian marriage you bring together the two orders of creation: nature's gift of children enriches the world and your grace enriches also your Church”.
⁵It is ironical that we all crave for news and usually the more salacious news of celebrity foibles. But, in our personal lives, there appears to be an unwritten code that marriages are supposed to “happy ever after”. Could this be some sort of Hollywood-raised expectations that couples have? Think of the many couples shattered by the discovery of infidelity and the aftermath is that the faithful party cannot see beyond the stain of infidelity. For couples who celebrate their anniversaries, can we assume that there never was any infidelity along the way? Infidelities and their consequence speak to us of “conversion”. What many couples have in front of them is not a “perfect take-off, perfect-landing, and no hiccoughs along the way” marriage. In fact, many enduring couples can tell you that they have had to work through some of the most difficult kinks in their lives post-marriage. This is one reason why marriage is a sacrament. The couple needs grace to make sure that they can survive through. All they need is to cling to the resolve that come what may, through good times and bad, through sickness and health, they will survive it together with the assistance of God. No marriage is a perfect match made in heaven. The couple if it is serious will be tested to the max and sometimes to breaking point. But, the nature of grace is that it is always sufficient for us. All we have is to believe in it. Too often we do not believe enough.

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

It would feel like I am speaking Greek this Sunday. I would like to speak on a topic which to some may be topic of odium: the hierarchy of the Church.

Last Sunday I spoke on the rubrics and its relationship to a mystery that we have been celebrating since apostolic times. Before I go on, let me just state that in making a case for faithfulness to the rubrics, a case can be made also that I am suffering from excessive ecclesio-centricism—a form of idolatrous worship of the “Church” and not of God. By insisting that the Church, that is, the Apostolic See¹, has the right to insist on a strict adherence to the rubrics for the celebration of the Eucharist, I seemed to have pulled the carpet from under the feet of “ingenuity”² or of even heart-warming spontaneity. Would not a strict adherence to the rubrics encourage some form of “legalism” and further “deaden” the Mass which is already so “dead” and unappealing? This tension leads us to this Sunday’s readings which are centred on the Laws.

The three readings all touch on different aspects of the observation of the Laws. Moses prohibited the distortion of the observance of God’s statutes and decrees because they summed up the depth of God’s relationship with Israel. James spelt out that the true meaning of the observance of God’s commandments is to be found in our interest towards the well-being of the poor. Finally, the subject matter for our reflexion—how to interpret the laws--comes from the encounter between Christ and the Pharisees.

The discussion of rubrics has brought us face to face with a popular notion, which is to set up an opposition between Christ who came to liberate and the Laws which are at best cumbersome or at worst burdensome. In our preference for spontaneity, it is not difficult to give in to contempt for the Pharisees, who as a group, appeared to have this seeming penchant of “emptying” divine laws of its “spirit” by reducing them to mere positive laws; laws which may be changed, passed over or made more perfect. Furthermore, their nit-picking only served to render the laws oppressive as well as opened them to ridicule.

How do we make sense of this conventional wisdom? Was Christ against the laws?

The truth remains that the entire corpus of the New Testament does not record anything which shows Christ’s³ antagonistic attitude towards the law. In fact, the key to understanding His relationship to the laws is to recognise that in Him the Torah has become universalised. For example, St Augustine’s appreciation of this “catholicity” is seen in this quotation: “the New Testament lies hidden in the Old; the Old is made explicit in the New”. It shows that the Patristic Father understands the relationship between the two Testaments to be a seamless whole, meaning that, there is no divide between them and therefore between Christ and the Laws. On the contrary, the relationship is not of a division but rather of a fulfilment. Christ stood against a particularly narrow interpretation of the laws that the Pharisees had. As such, He came to fulfil the Laws. In that way, we may say that the divide, if there were one, may be coming from our predilection for “spontaneity” and our distorted sense of freedom.

In that sense, our progressive culture is not unlike the Pharisees. Instead of nit-picking, we tend to explain everything away with God’s love. Instead of reducing the Laws to merely positive laws, we reduce the majesty, the “otherness” (transcendence) of God, notwithstanding that Christ came to give us access to the Father, to the level of commonplace friendship to the point that God cannot be but a doting Old Grandfather who loves us to bits. If that be the case, then Christ cannot be anything but be against the laws. Certainly Christ against the Pharisaic concerns over the laws’ minutiae is helpful in our making a case for more “freedom” from the restrictions of laws.⁴

This is where we make a jump and it is not a far leap from the Pharisees to the Hierarchy, in our case, the Apostolic See, especially considering that Benedict XVI, according to some, have decidedly turned the clock back with an insistence on faithfulness to the Church’s liturgical norms. In the promulgation of the GIRM, what we observe is mostly a grudging compliance⁵ because there is either a lack of belief in the vision of the Holy Father or more so a caving in to the current “wisdom”.

A point can be made here on what is called “conventional”  wisdom. A way to understand how it functions is to look at “peer pressure”. It is an unspoken wisdom that everyone is supposed to kowtow to, if he or she does not want to be ostracised. Take for example, political correctness. It is a wisdom which proclaims tolerance⁶ but it is an intolerance which borders on intellectual fascism. The point is, anyone who dares to stand against the “received wisdom” will know its might. Hence, the task of returning to liturgical norms is made difficult by the received wisdom which can be broadly characterised as a liturgical amnesia. We have, in the interest of horizontality, forgotten the verticality of the liturgy.⁷ We may understand why the endeavour of the current Pope is a lonely one.

A way to understand further why there is a need to insist on the rubrics is to make the connexion between the hierarchy and holiness. Firstly, holiness and “legalism” are somehow related. How? Holiness is an attribute of God. In an analogical way, the Church⁸ is described as holy; it is an ontological description because it speaks of the “being” of the Church. This holiness is a gift and hence, a grace. Instead of living it, we often try to “possess” it through legalism. The Pharisees themselves tried to “protect” the call to holiness by imposing it, forgetting that the call cannot be legislated⁹ through external forms alone. However, the value¹⁰ of something is often deduced by the laws surrounding it. For example, if the punishment for the rape of a girl were just a rap on the knuckle, the message sent out is that girls are not worth our protecting. Here we appreciate that the “rubrics” surrounding our liturgy points not only to a mystery but that they are also ontological indicators.

When we profess to believe in the “holy catholic Church”, it means we accept that holiness is the being of the Church. In that way it is sacramental because she is the sign, symbol, and the reality of Christ’s presence. Consequently, she has to be hierarchical. The primary meaning of the word hierarchy is the rule of the holy and only secondarily does it refer to the “Bishops” (by extension, the priests and deacons). The accent is not on the rule but the holy. That a Bishop is politically perceptive is a premium. That a Bishop is administratively adept is an advantage. But, none of these is as crucial as a Bishop who is holy.¹¹

This is one of the meanings of sacramental and here is the crux: when a Bishop ignores the rubrics, then he has forgotten who he really is. Faithfulness to the rubrics is not an indication but rather an expression of a Bishop’s holiness because his holiness is the face of Christ. It is not about him at all. However, as stated, we cannot legislate holiness. That was conceivably the point the Pharisees were missing. Holiness is not ours to grant ourselves. Instead, it is given to us through Christ and through our baptism, our entire life is focused on appropriating Christ’s holiness and we do it through imitation, aptly referred to by author of the Letter to the Hebrews: “And therefore, we also having so great a cloud of witnesses over our head, laying aside every weight and sin which surrounds us, let us run by patience to the fight proposed to us” (Heb 12:1).

Finally, I end where I started: on the hierarchy. A protracted discussion on the rubrics led us to the hierarchy and the conclusion is that our task is to inculcate holiness. And this we do not so much through “laws” but through the real practice of the virtues. Here again, we return to life-giving habits; the habits of holiness. And in the context of the Church, a return to holiness is called for from the Bishops and by extension the priests and religious and married couples. Often we forget that we are “holy” first before we are anything.¹²

¹ The diocesan Bishop, within his competence, may issue liturgical norms by which all are bound. [Cf CIC838 and SC22§1].
² Inculturation, for example, is a form of “ingenuity” that tries to accommodate cultures beyond the spheres of Eurocentricism. Moreover, the Church should be more reflective of what is truly its character: catholic.
³ It is ironical that the attempt at distancing Christ from his “cultic” (priestly) background corresponds at the same time to a rapprochement with the Jews. A pluralist worldview tends to see Christianity not as an offshoot of Judaism—certainly, in the spirit of pluralistic tolerance—not as a fulfilment of Judaism. Is that not taking Christ out of His context and fitting Him into ours? For example, the current trend in revision history is to make Him out to be a revolutionary liberator. His being a cultic figure does not fit well into this “liberating” matrix we have set up for Him. Unfortunately, scriptural evidence does not support that. He came to fulfil the Law. He came to be the Priest of the Father. “Through Him, with Him and in Him, O God, Almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honour is yours forever and ever”. In that way, Christ, the real High Priest, universalises the message that God had for Israel, and thereby not restricting our access to God. Is that not the very redundant project of the pluralists? The aim of pluralism is to level the religious playing field—all religions have to be equalised in order that no one is denied access to God.
⁴ Almost certainly the hermeneutics of discontinuity has a greater grasp on our imagination more than the staid, stuffy and stifling hermeneutics of continuity.
⁵ http://www.catholic.com/documents/liturgical-abuses Check this out on some of the abuses that take place at Mass.
⁶ A liberal often commits what may be described as an axiological scepticism. Why? In theory he believes that all theories are on par but in practice, he will necessarily reject some theories. For example, he would certainly reject that it is acceptable to kill willy-nilly. So a liberal would demand tolerance for everyone except those who disagree with them. In other words, the act of rejection already shows forth that there are laws which we hold to, not because we are liberals but because we are humans. We do not function in a moral vacuum. On the other hand, a “conservative” does not pretend to be tolerant. Yet, that itself is no indication that he is intolerant. Tolerance is not to be prized for itself because it is a lazy intellectual’s security blanket. Thus, the question “But, what if it is true” may orientate us to what real tolerance truly means—bearing with one another in the quest for truth. In a relativistic age, tolerance often drowns out the voice of truth.
⁷ Church architecture is closely tied to the liturgy. Church architecture necessarily has a sense of verticality and length and not horizontality and proximity. Look at churches built in the shape of a “fan” with “theatre” seating. They may be modern, practical and certainly “open” to worship but in architecture, they have no ecclesiological ancestry. Verticality and height are indications that liturgy is directed to the worship of God.
⁸ Church here does not denote the Church as we often understand her. The Church was foreshadowed at the beginning of creation where the call was issued out to humanity to live a life with God. It was prepared for in the Old Testament through the calling of Abraham. With the life, death and resurrection of the Son of God, the Church as we understand her to be, the new covenant between God and Man, is instituted.
⁹ It may explain why imposition of the fast through policing will only increase its “pharisaical” observance. Fasting, whilst it has a “physical” component to it, must be an expression of conversion.
¹⁰ I dislike the term “value” for its economic connotation but it is a workable term. Otherwise, we can use the word “worth”.
¹¹ The custom of kissing the bishop’s ring tells us that there is something more to the person of the bishop. Usually the custom is practised by simpler folks. They appear to have a more profound sense of sacramentality. They want to feel God’s closeness. However, this is custom is dying out probably out of reaction to the “Pharisees being greet obsequiously and wearing longer tassels”. At first glance, this reluctance may come across as humility but upon close inspection, the reticence exposes the reality that bishops (and priests too) are often full of themselves forgetting the respect the laity gives to them is accorded firstly to Christ the Lord and only secondarily to the “man” himself. Consider especially how many priests have no problem cooking, singing or dancing to entertain their parishioners. It is a testimony of the age we live in that priests are more at home with our “celebrity” status than we are with being “sacramental” icons. It is a heavy calling. The Pope makes a valid point in the discussion between ad orientem and versus populum. Mass versus populum tends to place an inordinate importance on the personality of the celebrant by placing him on a kind of liturgical stage—there are Masses which resemble talk-shows rather than what they are supposed to be—Christ sacrifice on Calvary. It is not surprising that this “liturgical stage” has spawned a generation of “celebritergy” (as someone calls is) and also fostered a generation of clerical narcissists.
¹² Maybe a case can be made for democracy in the Church…more power given to laity because bishops, priests and religious have collectively failed in their main “ontological function” as custodians of holiness. It would seem that the laity is more “holy” than the clergy and religious.

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

This Sunday, concludes the series of John’s Discourse on the Bread of Life. The conclusion of the chapter draws our attention to a topic which we do not hear so much of these days: Virtue.

However, there is a connexion between last week’s discussion on the rubrics and this Sunday’s topic on virtue. Last week, I elaborated on the importance of rubrics, meaning the Church’s prescription for how the Mass is to be celebrated. In the previous part of John’s Gospel, the accent was expressly on the Real Presence. The Magisterium rightly emphasises clerical faithfulness to the rubrics because we are dealing with a mystery so profoundly divine. The Church needs to guarantee that what you are getting is the Real Thing¹ and since it concerns a matter of eternal life, there is a need to protect the people in the pew from abuse arising from the arbitrary whims of the priests.²

Since Vatican II’s so-called “renewal”, the laity has been subjected to a barrage of liturgical abuses, from as subtle as a seductive suggestion of a warm welcome³ to the blatantly destructive in the name of progressive novelty and inculturation. Such a negative development should not come as a surprise because rubrics are cloaked in a certain rigidity that runs counter to the spirit of spontaneity. In fact, faithful adherence to the rubrics runs diametrically opposed to freedom loving spontaneity.⁴

It is said that since the inception of Modernity, there has been an obsession to occupy the mind.⁵ An obsession fuelled by our loss of place amongst reality. Since we can no longer grasp reality in itself, we necessarily turn out attention to subjective meaning.⁶ Thus, as long as the “mind” is not involved, rubrics belong to the category of mindless repetition of meaningless gestures.

Finally, an aversion to rubrics is undoubtedly influenced by a myth of the pristine past (Protestant in origin) whereby the rubrics are viewed as expressions of the centuries-old encrustation of the true celebration of the Lord’s Supper. Christ was rather informal and rubrics just made His “meal” so stiflingly formal.

Now the rubrics direct our attention to how John Chapter 6 ends this Sunday. Firstly, the conclusion turns out to be an anti-climax. It certainly was not the ending that Jesus would have hoped for. But, I suspect the Lord was not at all surprised. He knew that He was at a point of no return. He resolutely did not back down. Joshua in the first reading provides the key to understanding what it means that we face a Saviour who does not back down. According to Joshua, it is time for the people to choose either to serve or to abandon God. The same scenario is re-enacted in the this Sunday where Peter must answer for the Eleven: “Lord to whom shall we, go for you have the words of eternal life”? The same is now presented to us.

It is about choosing God and of course, there is no suggestion that strict adherence to the rubrics should be equated as choosing God.⁷ Choosing is more than choices. For if choosing were merely choices, all of us would qualify as experts because our supermarkets and shopping malls are temples of choices. Instead, the Lord challenges Peter and the Eleven tochoose.⁸

The second reading gives us a clue about this choosing as it speaks of the relationship between a man and woman in the context marriage. We all know that a wedding does not a marriage makes. Instead, daily one chooses to be a married man. Your vows do not make you a husband. Your daily choosing makes it so. Usually, the choosing does not feel good especially after a quarrel or a strong disagreement.

To choose leads us into the territory of virtue. According to St Thomas, virtue is defined as good habit bearing on activity. Essential to the notion of virtue is habit. Not every habit is a virtue but every virtue will involve some form of habitual activity. According to the Catechism, a virtue is a habitual and firm disposition to do the good. It allows the person not only to perform good acts, but to give the best of himself, in other words, to excel. The virtuous person tends toward the good with all his sensory and spiritual powers; he pursues the good and chooses it in concrete actions. For the goal of a virtuous life is to become like God.

How do rubrics come into play with regard to the formation of virtue? Firstly spontaneity is over-rated. Granted that some of the best times we ever had may have come from the times we acted spontaneously.⁹ But, by and large our lives are organised according set repetitive rituals. And yet, that does not mean that our lives are meaningless. In this context, the “dull repetitive” Mass we celebrate reminds us that there is an asceticism involved because life’s purpose is not restricted to searching for self-fulfilment only but through self-examination, self-correction, self-mastery and penance as both physical mortification and spiritual reparation, we trudge towards heaven. However, when we forget heaven, then we will forget that there is a difference between feeling good and being good. Spontaneity appeals to our sense and need to feel good, whereas, a virtuous life stresses the need to be good. We sometimes mistake goodwill as the need to be good, as if goodwill is good enough.¹⁰ Goodwill is not enough because the language we use for the Eucharist is sacrificial and it challenges our comfort zone.

Faithfulness to the rubrics of the Eucharist resembles the practice of virtue in the sense that they call us to mortify this need to feel good. This asceticism fits in with the requirement of truth because it involves a humility of obedience and also the application of moral virtues to the irregularity of Man’s fallen nature. As such, virtue has a lot to do with the faculty of choosing to the point that we become habitual in our choices for good. The first time you get up to give your seat to an elderly person, it is tough because you would be thinking, “What would people say”? But if you persist, even if you feel it against your nature, you will soon find yourself doing it without even thinking of it. That is the power of good habits.

All of us want to go to heaven, I presume. Or as the case may be, for many of us, heaven can wait because we are uncertain about the quality of heaven—we have not seen it nor have we tasted it and we have never had it so good in this life. But, seriously, if we want to go heaven, then virtues are the steps we need to bring us there. In that way, slow and steady, through regular practice, just like we observe the rubrics, we forge a road, that by habit will bring us to the gates of heaven and to reach there, the only Bread and only the Real Thing that can carry us there and through the gates is the Bread of Eternal Life.

¹ The import of this insistence is gleaned through the principle of ecclesia supplet meaning that the Church provides out of h er treasure of grace, the proper remedy for the defect of the minister’s action. It is a theological and canonical principle which holds that even if there is some common error, such as in the jurisprudence or the performance of a sacrament [see 1983 CIC 144.1], as long as the minister intends to do what the Church intends in that action, the nature of the Church “makes up” for any insufficiency or error on the priest’s part. It is a helpful pastoral principle to guard against scrupulosity. A good example of the Church supplying jurisdiction for an act would be a penitent going to a priest, not knowing that the priest lacks the necessary faculty to hear confession. His sins would be forgiven. However this principle rests upon the “intent” of the priest. It cannot be applied willy-nilly if a priest deviates from what is prescribed by the Church… for example when the “formula” necessary for the forgiveness of sins is not used or the formula for the consecration is changed —words necessary for the validity of a sacrament. It follows from ecclesia non supplet quod ecclesia non habet—the Church cannot supply what the Church does not have.
² Each time a priest deviates from the norm of the celebration, the congregation would be left wondering what he would do next. Is that not a form of distraction where the celebrant draws attention to himself rather than to the worship of God?
³ For example, in the name of community building, the “Sign of Peace” is moved to the beginning of Mass so that we can enter into the feel of the Mass more easily.
⁴ Rubrics suggest of staid, lifeless and automatic following of rules and regulation. In its opposite, we have spontaneity. Tied in spontaneity with adrenalin and you have a fun-filled cocktail. However, spontaneity may also be a sign of disrespect. A good example would be an invitation we want to send to a person of importance. Even though the intention might be noble to invite someone however, the leaving it to spontaneous chance highlights a disrespect which says, “I would like you to come to my party but then it does not matter whether you can make it or not”. Thus, anything that is important, we circle it with a certain respect that can only come if we delineate it properly. Otherwise, it is too chancey and ultimately demeans what we intend to do. Spontaneity is also superficial and shallow.
⁵ The present stress on child-development may just be symptomatic of this obsession with occupying the mind. Kumon or kindergartens, pre-school or playschool all are geared to give the child a head-start. You must have seen how a child goes for his “family” dinners (accent is on family) carrying an iPad. We care about their prowess in all sorts of talents but what about socialising them into a life of virtue? We do not see the need for the body (yes, the hand-coordination etc etc) to be educated into a posture of “relationality”—a child sitting and conscious of his surrounding, not being able to take part in the conversation but nevertheless he is there. No. Instead, we enable a child to enter into his little self-enclosed world oblivious of the body’s relation to others who are present.
⁶ The brain is constantly trying to excite itself so that it knows that it exists. This is corollary of the Cartesian, Je pense donc que je suis. I think therefore I am. If I do not think, do I exist? A certain compulsion to engage the mind has not set us free but that instead it has imprisoned us in a solipsistic loop of self-validating ennui.
⁷ You would have heard of the Irish saying “Paddy goes to Church on Sunday but Paddy goes to Hell for what he did.

⁸ If price is a function of supply and demand in economics, then choosing is a function of freedom. In order to be, we need to choose. And here, set before us are not just choices but hard decisions to make for in our choosing, there will be life threatening consequences.

⁹ Like the time you decided to up and go to Bali where you met the most beautiful girl who has since become your wife. It may be true for some but certainly it is the stuff for Hollywood movies.
¹⁰ All of us possess goodwill and that is where it resides… at the level of intent. Many of us like help but it is never convenient like during an accident. If at all we slow down, it is hoping to catch a glimpse of the blood-splattered victim of accident to see if he or she is alive. And we move on.

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Once, at a retreat, I attended Mass celebrated by a renowned Jesuit priest. It was peculiar Mass in that it did not follow the prescribed rubrics we all recognise. It took place in an open field and it moved according to the rhythm of the Stations of the Cross to culminate at the grotto of our Lady where there was an altar to celebrate the second part of the Mass, that is, the Liturgy of the Eucharist. It started to rain just as we were about to conclude the Liturgy of the Word. We were blessed enough to be able to take shade in the grotto where we stood behind the celebrant for the “Liturgy of the Eucharist”. At Communion time, I abstained and was consciously uncomfortable that I was sending a message of rejection. In the end, I found out that two other priests also did not receive. Not by any stretch of imagination could what we had be considered a valid Eucharist.

This Sunday we continue to linger on the topic of what the Eucharist is. It is the Body of Christ sacrificed and the Blood of Christ poured out. Ritual¹ thus plays an important role in how the Eucharist ought to be celebrated. The recently introduced new translation of the Roman Missal highlighted a post-Vatican II phenomenon, the effect of which we are still experiencing today. In the process of updating the language and the rubrics of the celebration, we had unwittingly embraced a process which led to a desacralisation² of the liturgy.

This Sunday, as Jesus insisted that His Body and Blood are real food and drink, a pertinent question for us to ask is whether the Eucharist should be emphasised more as a memorial of the Cenacle or should its focus be a re-presentation of Calvary.

According the Pope Benedict, an over-emphasis on Cenacle runs counter to scriptural witness but not only that. An over-emphasis on the Eucharist as meal has had implications that are far reaching. First, it opened the way to many a manipulation of the Eucharist. As noted before, the process of desacralisation included the embrace of popular music, the removal of communion rail, communion by hand and the adoption of the versus populum posture of the priest. In other words, the process of dumbing down saw to it that the form or the shape of the Mass became nothing more than a communal meal rather than it being what it was supposed to be: a sacrifice. In some cases, one cannot tell the difference between what is sung at a Senior Nite Party³ and what is sung in Church. I am sure you remember those days where so-called hymns were sung to the tune of “Blowing in the wind”.

Second, an over-emphasis on a meal setting has also desensitised us to the reality of Christ presence in the Eucharist to the point that our practices are not from a Protestant setting. For some, the Eucharist has become nothing more than symbolic sham. Observe how Communion is received. Many do not prepare before Mass, or they pay scant attention to the liturgy during Mass proper and the moment of reception, the posture indicates that they have no consciousness of What they are consuming. In fact, there may be no correlation between Whom⁴and What they receive simply because many understand that they are receiving merely a symbol; albeit, a powerful symbol.

But, the Gospel begs to differ. A check on the language will show that Jesus was very literal in His description of the Eucharist as being His Body and His Blood. Over the multitude’s objection, Christ did not mince His words. Instead, there was an insistence that bordered on vehemence. “Indeed” or “truly” or “certainly” are some of the translations to the Greek “Alethos” or truth. As a result, the Church believes that, Whatever and not just Whoever, walked the earth 2000 years ago, is What we consume. We eat the Body of Christ—His substance and His entirety.

Why do we need to eat His flesh and drink His blood? Protestants would argue that Christ spoke metaphorically as He did when He claimed Himself to be the gate, the way, thelight or the true vine. Would Catholics not be cannibalistic then? From the beginning of Christianity itself, the charge had been made against Christians that they were nothing but cannibals. In a culture of “personal” morality, an inculcated abhorrence that we may be cannibalistic is enough to drive us to embrace the relative comfort of Christ speaking, not the truth about His flesh and blood, but metaphorically or symbolically. But, there must be a reason why the Church never considered the Eucharist as merely symbolic but is truly the Flesh and Blood of her Lord and Saviour.

At the Incarnation, the physical Body of Christ came into existence. At His death on the Cross, the Mystical Body came into existence. At the moment of His death what had been only the physical Christ has now added members with whom He has united Himself as their head. The added members form the Mystical Body of Christ, otherwise known as the Church, and it is to this Body that He the head must tend.

Christ gave us Himself so that we might get His strength to be His Body. In the Eucharist, we become what we eat. In this context, on the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, the carrying of a Monstrance and processing through the streets speaks volume to each one of us: members of the Mystical Body of Christ carrying the Body of Christ signifying the intent of every member to become more Christ-like and best way to do it is to eat His Flesh and drink His Blood.⁵

We are not cannibals⁶ for desiring to consume the very Flesh and Blood of Christ because they are life. The Christ present in the Eucharist is not Christ dead but alive and resurrected. Furthermore we do not eat a part of Christ but we consume the whole of Christ—His divinity and His humanity, His body and soul. It follows that at Communion, it does not matter whether we receive a big piece of bread or small piece of host. They both contain the same essence of Christ. This also explains why we do not need to give communion under two species.⁷ Eating the bread already means we have consumed the whole of Christ.

In summary, to receive the Eucharist is a profound act because it is as close as one will ever get to Christ our Lord in this life. Christ Himself wants us to have His life and so, in the delivery of so precious a gift, the Church our Mother must do all she can, through the proper celebration of her rituals, to ensure that her children are fed with nothing less than the very Bread of eternal life; the Bread that can guarantee eternal life.

¹ Rituals provide certainty over the outcome of what we are celebrating. Two points can be noted here. Firstly, note that there is a thin line that separates magic from mystery. Magic—incantations, symbolic actions, mantras—attempts at manipulating the “divine” in order to accomplish one’s will. But, in the case of the Church’s liturgy, rubric is not the attempt to control the divine. Instead, it becomes the only guarantee we have that what the pew receives is no less than what Christ and His Church intended for the recipient. In today’s world where the accent is on the expression of “individuality”, faithfulness to the rubrics expresses a humble desire to submit to the Divine will. Thus, if magic is defined by the will of the magician, then true worship expressed by through the rubrics is defined by the will of the One worshipped – in this case, the Lord Jesus. Secondly, insistence on adherence to rubrics is not a sign of intolerance. Instead, the more something is important, the more “rules” are needed for us to be certain. For example, the more a person is allergic to say, peanuts, the more we need to be “certain” that the food cooked and served should contain absolutely no trace of nuts in it. The Church’s insistence on liturgical rectitude is indicative of her high regard for the Body of her Lord and Saviour.
² By no means was the process restricted to the Eucharist. For example, the Sacrament of Baptism de-emphasised Original Sin and was re-visioned as a sacrament of community.
³ This is not a commentary on the Senior Nite Party but rather of the liturgy. Liturgy was no longer Divine Liturgy but a communitarian liturgy simple because its focus was on us rather than on God to whom we owe honour, worship and glory.
⁴ Is it any wonder why Jesus Christ “cannot” be the Saviour of the world? He is anything but God made man—a social worker, a psychologist and better still, a revolutionary leader. He liberates more than He can save.
⁵ The necessary caveats apply. We prepare ourselves to receive Him worthily. It does not denote perfection on our part.

⁶ An experience of the past might illustrate how we can understand our distaste at the suggestion of cannibalism. Those of Chinese ethnic background and old enough may remember how parents introduce solid food to a baby. I remember watching my aunty chewing the rice in her mouth before giving the masticated food to the baby. At that time, there was no suggestion of germs or bacteria. Certainly we would not get the Americanism we are accustomed to coming from children “Ewww”. The change in how we perceive the practice suggests that our distaste is perhaps an expression of a psychological barrier rather than a real objection to cannibalism. But, to put to rest the ghost of cannibalism, it must be reiterated that Catholics do not eat the “dead” flesh or drink the “dead” blood of Jesus. Instead, consuming the Eucharist is union with Life itself, which every act of cannibalism so intends but can never be achieved.

⁷ From Eucharisticum mysterium, Instruction on Eucharistic worship and repeated in GIRM #281:  Holy Communion, considered as a sign, has a more complete form when it is received under both kinds. For under this form (leaving intact the principles of the Council of Trent, 84 by which under either species there is received the true sacrament and Christ whole and entire ), the sign of the Eucharistic banquet appears more perfectly. Moreover, it shows more clearly how the new and eternal Covenant is ratified in the Blood of the Lord, as it also expresses the relation of the Eucharistic banquet to the eschatological banquet in the Kingdom of the Father (cf. Matt. 26: 27-29). Here complete form refers more to the theological aesthetics than to the “content” of What we are receiving.

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Last Sunday, I spoke on the necessity of knowing who Jesus Christ is and not just focusing solely on what Jesus Christ means to us.¹ If we lose sight of who He really is—the Son of God—then we may be reduced to running after the God of our making or our meaning; a constant drive to reshape Him according to our measure and our fancy. The imperative, to know who Jesus Christ is, is a necessity because He who is Truth makes a demand on us—a demand which is moral and so prevents us from slipping into a solipsistic existence. At the same time his moral demand reminds us that Man’s existence cannot be organised narrowly along an egocentric principle². Christ feeding the crowd tells us something about the nature of the multitude. The multitude is not extraneous to our existential condition but is sine qua non for the very possibility that we are individuals.³ An individual who has lost his mooring to the multitude will be cast upon the sea of meaninglessness constantly fishing for meaning.⁴

Knowing Who He is will ultimately lead to self-discovery⁵ and at the same time, will enable us to encounter others—they mirror Christ’s image too. The implication for Christians of knowing who Christ is is that we are forced to look closely at His constituted Body, namely, the divinely instituted Church. These few weeks where Christ gives Himself as the Bread of eternal life has led us to take a look at His Body, the Church, the universal sacrament of salvation.

It is not an easy task to look at the Church. Why is that so? We find our answer in the example of Elijah in the 1^st Reading: Despair. I wager that like him, humanity is caught in the throes of dark despair. The nation is mired in depression and also in denial. So too Christians and in particular Catholics. Every human institution has failed us and in many ways, spectacularly. Each encounter with failure of an institution weakens the anchor of our trust in the collective whole. When institutional failure is also encountered in the Church, the effect is even more devastating. Many an unsteady faith is shaken by the glaring weakness of an institution that claims herself to be divinely instituted. This is because many do not make the distinction between, on the hand, the Church which, according to Lumen gentium, Christ had given as the universal instrument of salvation for multitude and on the other hand, the people, weak and sinful, who make up the Church. The Church as the universal sacrament of salvation is a powerful statement which many pluralist Catholic theologians struggle to accept. In an age of inclusivism and tolerance, how dare we claim that Jesus Christ saves Buddhists or Muslims? With Catholic theologians even doubting the universality of Christ’s salvation through the Church, our collective despair is compounded even more. Who can really save us? Not even Christ can.

Let me illustrate how far deep despair has eaten into our psyche?

We are told that the national crime rate has fallen. This is presently the boast of the government that it is fulfilling its promises.⁶ But, my concern is neither the fallen crime rate nor the fulfilment of a morally bankrupt government. My attention is directed to a blessing formulated for a victim of crime and oppression. It goes like this:

Lord God, your own Son was delivered into the hands of the wicked, yet he prayed for his persecutors and overcame hatred with the blood of the cross. Relieve the suffering of N.; grant him/her peace of mind and a renewed faith in your protection and care.

Imagine the instilled fear gathered from the myriad pictured emails of victims of crime. In a time of trauma, the furthest from our collective minds would be two abilities. Firstly, the belief in God’s providential protection. Closer to reality would be the question like “Where were you God when I was being robbed or stabbed”? Secondly, the desire to forgive would be non-existent. Instead of praying to forgive, a victim might wish that the two snatch thieves meet with an accident not life-threatening but render them totally incapacitated.

Why the lack of belief and why the inability to forgive? Our incapacities show us how myopic our horizon of the divine is. We do not really believe the divine anymore let alone fathom His providence. When belief in God fails, what happens is that existential despair will set in.

But consider this: no horizon beyond the temporal implies that we are forever stuck in this world with all scores to be settled before we die. Then Holy Communion might just as well be no more than merely bread. The Holy Communion we receive would be what the Filipinos call, borrowing from their Spanish heritage, “consuelo de bobo”. [Consolation of the stupid]. Nothing more than a pacifier you plug into a baby’s mouth to shut it. Ultimately, Holy Communion is meaningless.

However, the first reading tells us more. Elijah may have been given mere bread, but it kept him alive. In Christ and through His Church, we are promised not mere bread but the Bread of Eternal Life to keep our faith in God. And here, we must make the connexion between Whom we receive and who the Church really is because in many discussions of the topic of the Bread of Life we often forget a very important condition for the possibility of the Bread given to us: Holy Mother the Church.⁷ As instrument, the Church, by means of the gifts given to her by Christ, her doctrine, laws, and sacraments, makes communion with God possible.⁸ The Church as the sacrament of Christ makes His work of salvation visible and accessible to human beings.

In conclusion, an involvement with Church, through our apostolates, is not a favour to the Church. Once, when asked to attend a catechetical formation, I heard a Sunday school teacher express this sentiment, “I am already teaching catechism. What more does the parish want from me?” In our local Church context, attending BEC is not an extra-curricular activity. And even our Sunday collection is not an act of generosity. What we do for the Church is constitutive of who we are because it is from her we are fed the sacraments of Christ. Thus, the 2^nd Reading makes so much sense. St Paul speaks of imitating Christ and that by being kind and compassionate to each other. We reform our lives, little by little and day by day, so that we do not become a sully to the good name of the Holy Church and in doing so become an effective part of Christ’s mission in the world.

¹ It was not preached at any Mass. Written just for the blog.² In the context of Christ feeding the multitude, the prevalence of world hunger in such a pervasive manner is symptomatic of how egocentric the world has become. We have food more than enough to eat. The point here is not about the sufficient quantity and therefore about the improvement our distribution or cutting our wastage so that there will be enough for simply living. The point is about our “attitude” which is patently self-centred. The irony of an egocentric world is that whilst it purports to compose the individual or to make the individual whole, the effect has actually led to his disintegration. Much of our preoccupation with being whole—cosmetic weight loss programmes or cosmetic augmentations, self-help techniques—has not led to greater happiness. Chasing the self for oneself exclusively can only lead to existential loneliness. This brings us to really ask how we can be whole—through the multitude. Caring, sharing and giving make us whole.³ A good example of the necessity of the multitude for the individual is expressed by someone who says “I don’t need anyone”. A person who does not need anyone is, in effect, condemned to silence. To give voice to the statement “I don’t need anyone” is to commit a performative contradiction because the speech contradicts the intent. Just saying I do not need anyone is already saying it to someone, thereby nullifying the intent that no one is needed.⁴ Knowing as an act is always directed to the Truth. To know is to know the Truth. In that sense, meaning is derived from the Truth and not the other way round. Meaning does not always arrive at the Truth. For example, an expression from a popular tune, “If loving you is wrong, then I don’t want to be right”. I was just thinking of this as I was driving and the radio played the song: “Help me make it through the night” by Kris Kristoffersen. The lyric is not explicit but you get the gist. I don't care what's right or wrong, I don't try to understand. Let the devil take tomorrow. Lord, tonight I need a friend. A good context for such lyrics’ expression is an adulterous relationship. Clearly, for someone in an adulterous relationship, even though it is wrong, it is meaningful. Thus, what is meaningful does not always express the Truth unless one defines meaning as embracing also the bad or the wrong. Listen to the song by Debbie Boone “You light up my life”. She says “It can’t be wrong when it feels so right”. Is that not how youths today reason? For many of us, the good or what is right are functions of our feelings.⁵ The Word was made flesh. The event describes that Christ came to be one of us. As an event it bears the hallmark temporality. It took place in time. But, creation was made through Him and was therefore made in His image and likeness. It is by contemplating Him that we discover who we are. We should model Him and not the other way around.⁶ Never mind that governance by its very definition means that the country is under the rule of law. The audacity to claim that crime rate has fallen is thoroughly an embarrassment. The fact is crime rate in a functioning democracy should always be low!!⁷ The wording of the Orates fratres is changed only by one word: Holy. The small change makes a world of a difference in our perception and appreciation of who the Church is: the ever Holy Bride of Christ our Lord.⁸ Therefore she is not just “structure” divided between “hierarchy” (therefore oppressor) and “laity” (therefore oppressed). She is also mission, sacraments and prayer. According to Pope Benedict, “Too many have become obsessed with changing church structures, patterns of ministry and the like, so that Church itself becomes of secondary importance. Ecclesiology becomes bogged down in a “battle about machinery”. The “real problem”, however, is the “crisis of faith”. The problem is not between hierarchy and laity. The problem arises when many, Bishops, priests and theologians, seeks to turn away from the Church’s theological attributes towards its political ones, whereby sociological theory dictates ecclesial organisation and the sacramental principle is replaced by ‘democratic control’. The Church is ontologically sacramental in nature and onlyconsequently hierarchical. Therefore, the hierarchy’s function is to serve the ontological nature of the Church. Forgetting this, we will be side-tracked to squabble about how the Church is to be organised or ignoring this, we will be tempted to focus merely on “mission”.

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Last week, the suggested military motif in the Gospel gave us a chance to reflect on what it meant for the Church on earth to be classified as “militant”. Whilst the word “militant” might sound politically incorrect, we explored the idea of militancy in the context of Christ’s mission and the conclusion we drew was that the term Church Militant aptly described Christians in the world, for we have been and still are engaged in the crucial struggles of our time, a struggle characterised by Evil attempting to distract Man’s search for Him Who is Truth, Beauty and Good.

This Sunday’s Gospel reveals an on-going demand for nutrition that the crowd had of Christ. Away from their military ambition for Christ, the people on seeing what Jesus could do, would not let up in their pursuit, if not to make Him King, as least, to be someone who could on a whim conjure up a feast to satisfy the pangs of hunger. This subsistent demand on Christ brings us face to face with the question of who Jesus Christ really is. How do we perceive Him and what are the implications of our perception.

Firstly, our perception of reality is perhaps much more complicated simply because we are no longer at “home” with reality. Prior to the advent of modernity, Western Philosophy simply accepted that the mind could know reality as it is. In other words, physics [ie, science] and metaphysics [ie religion and that which cannot be proven scientifically] co-existed. But, the advent of modernity made the process of knowing more complicated meaning that what cannot be proven scientifically, for example, religious, was relegated to the personal, the superstitious and the unknowable. Even in the area of science’s expertise a thing could be “known” via our theories, hypotheses or models. Or, a thing we knew could also be merely our sense impressions, according to Hume and causality was explained as a connexion of what we have been accustomed to seeing of events flowing from to another. The complication brought about by modernity was located within the process of knowing. Thus, instead of knowing a thing in itself, we began a transforming migration towards what a thing could mean for us. It was an inevitable shift and in summary, because we could no longer know the thing in itself, we began to understand reality in its relation to us. Galileo did not just inaugurate the shift from geocentricism to heliocentricism, Descartes also initiated the paradigm shift from our focus on the object to the preoccupation with the subject. Thus, the question of who Jesus Christ was (objectively), had become the question of who Jesus Christ was to us (subjectively).

This shift was quite utilitarian in its expression, much like the crowds’ intent for Jesus. But, the truth is, we are by and large utilitarian and therefore meaning does play a great emphasis in the way we understand reality. And today the crowd in the Gospel is led to understand who Jesus is rather than what Jesus can do for them.¹

Like the crowd, we are challenged to rethink that meaning is not the ultimate focus of life. For if it were, then we need to explain why a world organised along the line of meaningful existence has left trail of “empty” destruction. In the face of a formidable might to create meaning, why are we still so empty and shallow? Meaning must draw its reference not only from us but from reality itself.

Today the reality that confronts us is Jesus Christ. In the multiplication of the loaves and fish, our attention is directed not only to the nutrition we consume but to the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist we celebrate. The transubstantiation is only possible, not by science but by His power as God. Is He really God or do we just consider Him meaningful in our lives? Let me clarify that Who He is and what He means are not mutually exclusive but, sadly, the prevailing wisdom about Jesus Christ is that He can be anything except God. He scores better as a superstar. He teaches better as a guru. He saves better as a liberator. In all things, He is no better than an exemplar, the best of all human beings, the most capable of all teachers and perhaps the most competent deliverer.

The man who fed the crowd is God, no less. Acknowledging Who He is has life-changing implications. We cling to Him not only because He is meaningful but because He is life. Make no mistake that the world is not saved by meaning. The “meaningful” lives of many rich and famous and many of us are nothing but vacuous and that hollow which we want fill with adventures and fun and consumption can only be filled and satisfied by the truth who is Jesus Christ. Ultimately, who Jesus is will lead to what Jesus can do for us and how much He means to us. What begins with every human search for meaning must lead to a search for God Himself. On His part, He answers our search giving us what truly will satisfy: the Bread of Life, the Bread of Eternal Life.

^FOOTNOTE:   

¹ Meaning is a crucial component in our interaction with reality. In fact, modernity, by and large, is organised according to this one simple principle that whatever we encounter, it has to be meaningful. And meaning is often reduced to merely the palpable surge of elation we feel. A good example of how much meaning is central to our experience is the abhorrence for rituals as repetitive and therefore meaningless. Youths often lament how meaningless Mass is to them because they do not experience any palpable pleasing sensation that Catholic rituals as such do not evoke. On another matter, Catholic rituals have become “dead” and therefore unable to reach out to us because we have subjected rituals to the dictates of the “mind”—that they have to be understood in order to be meaningful. It is an emasculation of the power of rituals to give meaning.