Sunday, 17 October 2021

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

Armed with a greater understanding of human sciences, notably in sociology and psychology, we do have a better picture of human behaviour. Amongst the “nones” which we have pointed to, there is a category of people who have withdrawn their membership of organised religions based on the experience of “politics” in Church. Commonly heard is a disgust translated as “I have decided not to serve because there is too much politics involved”. Somehow there is an expectation that politics should not intrude into religious bodies. Also, there is a strong distaste of priests who preach too much “politics”.

One of the discomfitures in ecclesiastical history is the nepotistic behaviour of our popes. How can the papacy be otherwise? In today’s Gospel, the Apostles themselves witnessed a blatant political manoeuvring that jostled for places of power and honour. Better still that the Evangelists themselves were political pundits. How so, one might ask. Thankfully, the Gospel passage comes from Mark who reported this episode as it was, without gloss. Whereas, Matthew was embarrassed by the shameless audacity of James and John that he had to scrub and sanitised the political image of the brothers by putting the blame of their mother.

The Church is no stranger to politics. We are uncomfortable when the Church wades into politics because our experiences of expediency has left a rather bad taste in the mouth. The recent coup of the “backdoor” government validates the adage that there are no stranger bedfellows than in politics. For many, a divine institution like the Church should not be tainted by the unsavouriness of back-stabbing wheeling and double-dealing.

The experience of crafting a political dynasty in James and John, either themselves or through their mother should not prevent us from the task of rehabilitating politics. First, we should re-evaluate the assumption that politics is dirty. The truth is politics is not as dirty as we are. We are immoral. We are greedy. We are selfish. Sadly, self-interest thrives in the soil of expedient politics. Observe how “party frogs” seem to switch alliance with ease, contingent on whom has the strongest currency, that is, who has the wherewithal to pay more for loyalty.

Contrast this kind of political chicanery with its original or its etymological sense. The word “Politics” is related to the concept of “Civitas”. The former is grounded in the Greek experience. The latter arises from a Roman landscape. The science and art of governance of people, that is, politics, is derived from the Greek “polis”, meaning the city. This notion actually leads us to the Roman “civitas” or the Roman equivalent for citizens of the city. Inscribed into the “civitas” is the seed of civilisation, which is, to draw or bring people out of barbarism. We speak of civilising effects of introducing order into human relationships. Politics is fundamental to the building up of society because it tames the barbarian in us.

Here, we shall take a detour to understand what else should go into politics. It is the idea of “conviviality”. The concept gives us a clue as to where politics should be heading to. “Conviviality” is associated with Consecrated Life, that is, with the religious vocation. As the experience of the Desert Fathers morphed into a “Cenobitic” phase, what was introduced into community living was the idea of “conviviality”. It is the art and practice of living together. This “cenobitic” development in religious life did not arise merely from the need to overcome the isolation or loneliness of the “eremitical” inspiration. Instead, coming together, the arrangement was to mirror the “original holiness”[1] that God had intended for humanity. This evolution did have an effect on work, economy and most of all, governance.

Pope Francis in a General Audience described conviviality in the context of a family as “the attitude of sharing life’s goods and being happy to be able to do so”. Living alone is easier when it comes to idiosyncrasies. We only have to put up with ourselves. However, what happened in the “cenobitic” setting, the sharing at table becomes iconic. We not only share food but also affection and also events in stories. How often have our relationships been strengthened over a meal? Likewise, we are also aware how impoverished a meal can be when there are tensions amongst those who share the same table. Conviviality helps us measure the health of our relationships.

Therefore, “conviviality” teaches us what it means to harmonise, to collaborate and to integrate.

At the most basic level, the disposition of “conviviality” applies to everyone because baptism consecrates us by incorporating us into the Body of Christ. As such, it is not restricted to family or specifically to religious vocations. There was an era in the Iberian Peninsula when Islam was the ascendant religion that Catholics, Muslims and Jews were able to co-exist with each other despite their differences. The Spaniards called it “Convivencia”. It allowed them to live their differences without resorting to the kind of division which we currently faced in this age of cancel culture. In Latin, “Convivium” which denotes a feast is derived from “con” which means “with” and “vivium” pertaining to “life”. The meal teaches us how to live with each other. Imagine how central the Eucharistic setting is to a Christian life of politics.

Therefore, Jesus was not averse to politics. Politics, if we go by the definition of “conviviality”, is more than the science and art of living with each other. Even if we find it revolting because of our association of politics with dirt, the Eucharist is at heart, a political meal. In the Eucharist, we find no sense of self-preservation or self-interest. Thus, Jesus’ response was politically correct because He linked the power and prestige sought by the Zebedee Brothers to the service of martyrdom. Politics, apart from its civilising function, draws us into the arena of public service. But, more than that, if “conviviality” is a reflexion of original holiness that God had intended for us, then politics is but an image or the sacrament of the state of heaven.

The reality is that our global economic structures are governed by the elites who control the media and even have the resources to destabilise economies and countries. Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk cannot possibly used up their wealth in 10 lifetimes. This just shows how big the gap is between the few who are incredibly wealthy and the many who are marginalised. Here there is politics to be spoken about and we are not focussing on distributive justice but rather in the “conviviality” of living together. “Conviviality” is the basis for the Christian engagement in politics.

Thus, this is the rehabilitation that Christians and Catholics can give to the world of “selfish politics”. The failure of politics is the failure of trust and the collapse of expectation. Hence, when a Christian desires to serve as a politician, he or she must embrace what Jesus told the Zebedee Brothers. “Drink the cup that I drink”. Effectively it represent one thing—upholding the Catholic teaching without equivocation. It requires the one who holds power must also be the one who dares to lay down his or her life for others. Otherwise, the label “Catholic” is reduced to merely a tag emptied of its true content. Just for daring to be Catholic in practice, often the price will be paid with one’s political career or the cost will involve dying in defence of the faith. Every one of the Apostles lived and died for the politics of Jesus in which He linked power and authority to public service and not to the solidification of one’s personal selfishness. To follow Jesus, like James and John, is to drink fully the cup of service and self-sacrifice. It is to infuse the City of Man with the values of the City of God.

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[1] Preface of Holy Virgins and Religious: “For in the Saints who consecrated themselves to Christ for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven, it is right to celebrate the wonders of your providence by which you call human nature back to its original holiness and bring it to experience on this earth the gifts you promise in the new world to come”. Politics in religious life is supposed to reflect the state of heaven. Of course, we know that remains an ideal.

Saturday, 9 October 2021

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

Last week we trailed off on a point that the divinely mandated institution of marriage is best upheld through public witnessing rather than through defining it. When couples embrace their marital vows and live them to the fullest, they give the best endorsement to the Church’s teaching on the Sacrament of Matrimony. As Thomas a Kempis remarked, “I would feel contrition than know how to define it”. This week, we continue exploring the theme of discipleship from another angle.

In this regard, an indicator might direct our thoughts on today’s Gospel. Firstly, wealth and blessing go together. Many still subscribe to this Jewish notion that wealth is a blessing from God. Fortunately, in this scenario, it is a young man blessedly wealthy eagerly searching for the more. In his own estimation, he has led a virtuous life by keeping the commandments. In the ensuing discussion, an in answer to the young man’s pursuit, Jesus proposes a move beyond the comfort of his status quo. If one adopts the Ignatian pædagogy, this movement follows the “magis” of the “ad maiorem Dei gloriam”—for the “greater” glory of God. The choices we make must always be for the greater glory of God. And, if we interpret the invitation to the young man through the lens of the Augustinian interiority, then Jesus is merely pointing out the “restlessness” that we all experience as matter of fact. The “restlessness” of dissatisfaction symbolises our search for the eternal.

This restlessness can help to contextualised and situate the securities that we all easily accumulate and hoard without realising it. Firstly, we should note that, in itself, wealth is a “bonum” and as St Teresa de Jesus wisely reminded us that even though, “Money may be the devil’s excreta, it is definitely a good fertiliser”. Wealth can definitely be used to further God’s kingdom. Historically, the Church has never been shy about the judicious use of wealth. However, she must remain vigilant as exemplified in the case of the rich young man. He naïvely thought that wealth could be of assistance in the service of God. Instead, it became an obstacle to radical discipleship.

This experience of the young man can easily lend itself to the demonisation of riches and possessions. The uneasy relationship between possessions and discipleship is made clearer if we consider the “higher calling”. The general Catholic sensibility still continues to display a deference for the priestly/religious vocation as a superior and pre-eminent path to heaven. Of course, presently, we stress on the universal call to holiness. However, the eremitical life is interesting because the desert is not desertion but rather engagement. The early Christians ran into the desert not to escape life but rather to actively combat the proclivities of the human heart. It is true that wealth can obscure our vision but it is not only wealth that prevents us from whole heartedly following the Lord. The early Desert Fathers went into the wilderness in order to face the beasts within that hampered their desire to follow the Lord more perfectly, more faithfully. Material possession is symbolic of the many securities we have and they come in different forms.

To wit, very simply, beauty is also type of security. Imagine a young woman giving that up in order to follow the Lord as a cloistered religious. Conventional wisdom would deem such a sacrifice as a waste of beauty. Where the metrics of relevance is media exposure, beauty should be seen and admired. Against this media-obsessed environment, radical discipleship will be a struggle against the multi-faceted industries of vanity—clothing and fashion, cosmetics and perfumes, hair and health services and etc.

Wealth is not merely material. It could be anything which we form a disordered attachment to. Take the case of personal autonomy. We are fiercely attached to our individual freedom and choice that obedience to another becomes next to impossible. Some of us are addicted to power when it is taken away, how quickly we descend into depression. Ask some prime ministers or even bishops or parish priests. Another area of our struggle is pleasure. We are insatiable to the point of forgetting that pleasure has a purpose. Today, there is barely any difference between a gourmand and a gourmet. Traditionally, one is greedy and the other is an aficionado. The difference is dissolved when a glutton is elevated to a connoisseur. St Luke reminds us that anything can be a millstone. “Take care to guard against all greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist of possessions.” (Lk 12:15).

Christ has never advocated detachment for its own sake. He invites each person to the conversion, that is, the letting go, which is necessary for one’s salvation. The struggle of the wealthy young man is a reminder that salvation is found in God alone and not want we own. If anything, our securities tend to insinuate themselves so as to become the basis for our salvation.

But the beauty of this account is how much the Lord loves us. In the conversation today, the Lord looked at the young man and loved him. It is within this context that the young man was asked to go beyond the good he has to the better he can become. We are used to systematic guilt-tripping that we think that God’s love is a result of our obedience. Such is the psychology of reward and punishment. But God’s love is not a reward for our “compliance”. Instead His love is an invitation which explains why Jesus did not reject the man’s rejection. This is an important difference. If we do not love God, He is not going to sulk and scheme His revenge.

When we demonise wealth and possessions, we may miss the point that God continually waits for our response in love. While discipleship is demanding, the basis for has never been a demand but a loving invitation. For this we need to look to the saints for their examples. Their so-called higher calling was never about them being better than others but an indication of their desire to follow Him more closely and more perfectly. It is not an honour but rather a privilege. In numerous instances this privilege extended by the Lord has led many to lay down their lives.

What is impossible humanly, the saints have proven that renunciation is possible because it comes from a freedom touched by the love of God. Otherwise, the “restlessness” described by St Augustine makes no sense. Anything that is short of God will always fail to satisfy us fully. No matter the accomplishment, no matter how much we have, we will always be longing for the more. The “magis” suggested by St Ignatius is possible because it is a response of a heart graced by love, touched by God and freed from the shackles of disorderly attachments. So, as the 1st Reading suggests, pray for the wisdom to differentiate between what is good and what is better and the courage and the determination to embrace the better.

Saturday, 2 October 2021

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

We wrapped up last week with a note that the category of “none” is good for our souls. The non-religiously committed spurs us towards authenticity in our discipleship. This week, the journey continues in an area which is not only confusing but also challenging. Jesus touches on a provocative powder keg called marriage. For a “none”, one easily slides to a position that maintains the institution of marriage as basically unnecessary. Marriage belongs to organised religion and it is therefore a burden to be rid of.

If we take the First Reading, we may have come full circle especially when we consider the pervasiveness of broken marriages. Both the Sacraments of Matrimony and Holy Orders can be said to be complementary in a sense when one fails, the other fails too. These days, it is such a rarity to be able to celebrate a golden anniversary of a marriage. The same can be said also of a 50th anniversary of a priestly ordination. It could be that couples are getting hitched much older or that seminarians are taking the cloth at a more mature age. Closer to reality and more likely, the scarcity of anniversary celebrations may come from divorce and defection. The ease of divorce and the prevalence of failed relationships show how similar we are to the experience that Moses had with the Jewish community in his time.

Polygamy and divorce was common and since the Israelites were incapable of living up to the demands of conjugal life, Moses had to derogate from the initial mandate of God for marriage. In a way, Jesus reinstates the Father’s original intention for mankind. Our reflexion on discipleship takes us right into the heart of a political and cultural maelstrom.

The institution of marriage serves two purposes. God intended that marriage should provide companionship for man and woman and through their intimacy to ensure the survival of the human race. “It is not good for man to be alone and I will make him a helper suited to him”. The creation of Eve made possible the responsibility to “Go forth and multiply”.

However, the institution of marriage no longer rests on the foundation of who we are. Nature does not determine what shape marriage should take. Instead, by law, in some places we have begun to redefine marriage in terms of desire and consent. A plausible explanation for this fluidity comes from our ability to “manipulate” nature. Can one imagine the push for the redefinition of marriage, say, 40 years ago? The moment Dolly the Sheep skipped into pasture, a slew of other possibilities opened up. Surrogacy is a good example. The love between a man and a woman that is open to new life, now no longer requires the context of marriage to conceive.

In the process, we are “enabled” or “empowered” by “reproductive technologies”—contraception, in vitro fertilisation and surrogacy. Through the test-tube, man has found new methods of ensuring the continuity of the human race. With this latest development, the duo directive from God has been reduced to the sole or singular expression of intimacy. In other words, pleasure has been stripped of its purpose. Technology gives us the freedom even to determine how and what manner of our intimacy is to be like. Better still, “Rent-a-womb” makes it viable for mankind to conceive of new matrices of relationship. Two people in love should never be restricted to the hitherto accepted heteronormative worldview. In effect, we have removed “procreation” for the survival of our species and taken it out of the context of marriage.

This poses an enormous challenge for the disciple. In terms of discipleship, Marriage ranks together with Holy Orders as the two Sacraments of Service through which a Christian bears witness to the world. What happens to the institutions of Marriage (and Holy Orders) has far reaching consequences for the Church and for salvation. Sacraments save but not without our cooperation. Through living fully our vocations of Marriage and Holy Orders, we cooperate with God who saves us

What is happening to the institution of marriage that couples today appear to give up more easily? What are couples bringing into their partnership or more pertinently, what have they left out that only weakens it? A noticeable trend in marriage is how couples enter into it bringing with them an assumption that the other is a fulfilment one’s expectations. It is true that Adam was not complete until God created Eve. Nevertheless, this expectation can be better explained from the perspective of “self-actualisation”. What is it?

Broadly speaking, it refers to the need for the realisation of one’s potential or the full development of one’s abilities. So, when a man or a woman has unrealised expectations, then the need for self-actualisation will create rifts in relationships. The partner is expected to be the condition for the fulfilment of one’s potential. Cinematic art is replete with examples of how a person should look after “Nr 1”, suggesting that meaning in life is defined by self-fulfilment. It is not difficult to detect the plaintive cry of “What about me?”.

In itself self-actualisation is not a bad thing and this is not a criticism of self-fulfilment. However, in the context of marriage, when the concern is only focused on one’s self-realisation, then it begs the question where the element of self-transcendence is. Marriage thrives in self-sacrificing, a virtue easily forgotten. Meaning is derived not entirely from self-fulfilment but also in renunciation. The concept of “till death do us part” embraces the Christian epitome of “no greater love a man (a woman) has than to lay down his (her) life for his (her) friends”. To lay down one’s life for a friend is noble but in marriage, a spouse is more than just a friend. Love is most powerfully expressed by self-giving to the point of sacrificing one’s life. Jesus is the prime example. He loved the Church so much that He died for her.

We certainly have a standard to live up to. But we also have a reality to attend to. It is extremely challenging. On the one hand, it calls for compassion for those who may have tried and failed. On the other hand, the Church needs to uphold the teachings of her Lord and Saviour.

In this regard, the spirituality of the “nones”, in which they believe in a transcendence minus the baggage of organised religion is a good starting point for the disciples especially when we consider that the premium today is personal freedom, self-actualisation and self-fulfilment. It might be good to note that transcendence does not refer only to a “higher” supernatural authority. It could mean to go further or to venture beyond oneself. Here we dive into the domain of discipleship. Oblation belongs to the language of self-transcendence (and of the Eucharist too) which brings us right into the heart of what Christian marriage is about. Perhaps, we could fast a little from the honey-trap of self-actualisation and instead feed more on the milk of self-transcendence. What this means is that when a man or a woman enters into the partnership of marriage, then both must be ready for self-sacrifice.

If the institution of marriage is under siege today, the defence is less to be found in definition than in discipleship.[1] This correlates with the sentiment today that the authenticity sought by the “nones” is bound more to credibility than to truth. They are looking for “believability” more than for “dogmas”. St Paul VI stated in 1975 that “(m)odern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses” (Evangelii nuntiandi, 41). In a world craving for authenticity and meaning, the Christian disciple has his or her mission cut out. If he or she embraces the Sacrament of Matrimony, then the Christian ideal of marriage becomes more credible when it is live with love and self-sacrifice.


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[1] While the definition of what a marriage is, is important, nevertheless so too the living of it. The next statement is not a judgement of couples whose marriage has failed. But when a substantial percentage of our Christian couples divorce, how is marriage as a Sacrament not weakened? What is more when couples are not open to life, again the attack against marriage is not mounted from without but within. Poor Christian discipleship plays a prominent role in why marriage has come to mean nothing for secular society.

Saturday, 25 September 2021

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

The echoes of last week’s Gospel continues to reverberate. We concluded with a note that conversion for the Disciples, and also for us, entails loving the man Jesus and not a “concept” of Him. This means embracing whole-heartedly the truth that our Messiah is a Suffering Saviour. Jealousy will definitely detract us from the duty of discipleship, which is to follow Him closely, most especially onto Calvary. Today, Jesus continues to mould their understanding and hopefully ours too. His interaction with John clarifies our perception on what constitutes membership. In other words, what sort of relationship should we have with Jesus to “qualify” as a “follower” of His.

In the first reading, we have a Joshua whose imagination was hemmed in by an accepted status quo. He was closely associated with Moses’ ministry and therefore felt strongly that he knew how things should stand. He could not imagine a sovereign God working beyond the established parameters, whereas Moses could. This scenario is replayed in the Gospel where John also encountered non-disciples performing miracles in the very name of Jesus. For the Lord, “good deeds” were not the preserve or prerogative of discipleship.

A relevant question is what characterises discipleship and does it require membership? Last week, we conceded that despite wealth’s propensity to weaken one’s readiness to follow the Lord, the essential quality which grounds our discipleship is basically commitment or fidelity. And this brings us to a modern development in society that reacts strongly to membership in organised religions. In the consideration of affiliation, we now have to deal with the reality of “none”. These “nones” seem to constitute a growing percentage of the population who categorically reject any association with institutional religion. They rebuff membership.

The divide between affiliation and non-affiliation is a good place to help frame our conversation[1] on religious belonging. Many “nones” specify that they are spiritual but not religious. By this, it means that they do not reject the Transcendent or the instinct for the supernatural in a human person. They eschew institutional religions for different reasons—history of violence committed in the name of God[2], teachings which do not accommodate the current approach to personal “identity” and corresponding lifestyle choices. A way to describe the paradox of the “None” is one who believes and desires authenticity but is not interested in tying himself or herself down to prescribed and expected behaviours. Obligations would very much offend their sense of freedom.

In an enlightened world of practical science and technology, unverifiable or unexplainable religious claims have to be banished to the realm of the private. Religion is deemed useless in the public square because it expresses nothing more than one’s own belief. It is within this theatre of personal faith that “spirituality” finds its greatest freedom. It makes more sense to be a “none” because one can claim a modicum of association with the transcendent and yet enjoy the liberty to live according to one’s definition of what it means to be connected to a higher plane.

However, Jesus was a deeply religious Jew. Contrary to popular belief, He was not anti-religious. He was not even anti-Pharisees. He was nowhere near a “bon vivant”. But, swayed by a prevailing wind of “anti-establishment” and “class conflict”, we may have unconsciously developed this impression of Him. But Jesus was never hostile to religion. He was strongly opposed to the lack of coherence between belief and behaviour. Jesus’ religious fervour was never independent of His Jewish background. In fact, the Jewish state and religion are based on Israel’s relationship with God and for Jesus that was the ground for His religious practices. Thus, we can see that belonging or membership is not merely a matter of being “in” a religion. To belong in a religion is to believe with commitment and to avoid commitment without conviction.[3]

Still, can one be a “none” and be saved?

Definitely. Whether one is religious or spiritual, what is important is commitment to God. The modern Post-Vatican II 4th Eucharistic Prayer articulates this view must succinctly: “those who take part in this offering, those gathered here before you, your entire people, and all who seek you with a sincere heart”. Salvation is offered to all, whether “spiritualist” or “religionist”. What is required for heaven is a “sincere heart” that seeks God and a commitment to follow Him through one’s conscience.

Today, like the “nones”, it is easy to embrace a view of religion as a force for evil. So many are inspired by the concept of unity in diversity and that there should be no differences arising from religion. If commitment is central and membership is peripheral, then why belong to an organised religion like the Catholic Church? This “universalist” notion “spirituality without religion”, that is “Jesus yes, Church no” runs smack into the Great Commission that Jesus Himself gave to the Church. For those who find it hard to “swallow” the necessity of organised religion, then we need to find a way to navigate what Jesus meant when He charged the Apostles to “Go baptise all nations in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit". The Church, which belongs to “organised religion” is Christ’s gift to the world. Either we believe that or we will have to continue to make embarrassing excuses for our belief and our association.

The Church is the context for which St Paul taught that in her, there is to be no more Jew or Gentile. Everyone is supposed to be treated equally. In the light of religions’ history of inauthenticity, of human failure, the rejection of religion might sound reasonable. Religionists do not always practise what they preach. Here, a moral to remember is not to behave rashly[4] because others have behaved badly. Whether the present narrative accepts it or not, the Catholic Church has played a pivotal role in shaping the world for good. She truly is Christ’s gift to the world.

Finally, to reiterate, belonging to an organised religion like Catholicism does not mean that God cannot work outside of it. He can. So what is this membership about? We live this critical demand of belonging to the Church in which we are both convinced and committed. It is the only way for us to ensure that the world will know that religion is truly a force for good. In terms of “sacramental theology”, God desires the Sacraments. If Jesus is the Sacrament of God, then the Church is the Sacrament of Jesus. In Him, the Church is His choice instrument of salvation. Our lives must reflect this truth. Having said that, God’s salvation is not bound by membership in the Church and the means not restricted to the Sacrament of Baptism.

In terms of membership, whether we like it or not, the “nones” will become a regular feature in our religious landscape. They challenge us because we, meaning spirituals and religious, occupy the same space in terms of our need for meaningful relationship. What they differ is the need for rules and regulations. Here we are clearly not speaking of salvation but rather of the need for relationship. Thus our conversation with the “nones” must proceed along the necessity of relationship. St Cyprian said, “One cannot have God as our Father without the Church as our Mother”. Religionists may be terrible sinners but that does not invalidate the “none’s” need for relationship with God. Our manner of living should witness to the fact that through the Church we are nurtured in our relationships with each other and with the Lord. With God, rules are not restrictions. In fact, attention to rules and rituals helps to focus on the relationship we must have with God.[5] In this respect, those who are outside, well represented by the “nones” are helpful. They seek authenticity and thus they challenge us. Their desire for authenticity purifies those of us who believe but are not committed and those of us who are committed but not convinced. They can help us to be better Christians, better witnesses of Jesus the Lord.



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[1] Dialogue is fraught these days. Our hubris is believing that our discourses follow the tenets of enlightenment as we have rationally embraced diversity in our inclusivity. Truth is, we cannot be more mistaken. “Echo chambering” appears to be our gift to the illusory world of intellectual discourses. The algorithms of our social media are already corralling us into the prisons of “think-alikes”. Or, if not, they prevent certain topics from even surfacing in our search results. Conversations that avoid canonised positions are hard to come by. Truth is not only the pre-requisite for enlightened speech. Love too…

[2] Bear in mind that one of Enlightenment’s project is to curtail the power of organised religions because of their propensity to foment religious intolerance. Europe lived through many religious wars and the Enlightened must avoid that.

[3] A Pharisaical position. They lay heavy burdens on people without themselves believing in what they teach.

[4] Commit spiritual suicide. Disbelieving in Jesus’ Church because of some members of hers who sinned.

[5] The more important God is, the more “formal” our relationship is. Formality sounds stiff but its main purpose is to prevent us from descending into a contemptuous familiarity.

Sunday, 19 September 2021

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

Last week, we focused on the identity of Jesus but the spotlight did not stop there. Who He is has profound implications for those who follow Him. Hence, this Sunday, the attention shifts to the Apostles as Jesus tries to educate them on the reality of discipleship.

Instructing them must have been challenging. In the Gospel, Jesus takes pain to repeat what was said last week. He tells them in no uncertain terms that He will be delivered unto death. Imagine that in the midst of a solemn revelation, they are distracted by a dispute of whom amongst them is the greatest. In a way, this is most reassuring.

We are not unlike to the Apostles.

By nature, we are keen to get ahead. “Kiasu”[1] is a familiar label in this part of the world. All through human history, the various global migratory patterns, whilst they are premised on improving one’s economic status[2], are indications of this innate drive to get ahead. We are ambitious because competitiveness is a function of survival. At a basic level, it is survival of the fittest. One may judge the aggressive and combative need to forge ahead as selfish and yet healthy competitiveness is necessary because it allows us to rise above mediocrity. It is an engine for improvement and the betterment of life.

But competitiveness expresses more than the desire to arrive. What it highlights is an inborn longing for completion. Think of the parable of the Rich Fool in Luke’s Gospel (Lk 12: 13-21). The title clearly indicates the foolishness of trusting in wealth. More subtle than his greed is actually a belief that he has enough to be whole. “Let me build a bigger barn” is just a mistaken notion that the final fulfilment of one’s life can be realised in this temporary world.

If one takes a look at the older “tamans” (housing projects), one can also observe a similar development. They started off fundamentally to provide shelter and security. Over time, sprouting from these nondescript terrace houses are conspicuous hints of having arrived. What was once a simple roof over the head will give way to more ostentatious displays of one’s newly acquired status.

There is nothing wrong with home augmentation or enhancement. It would also be too simplistic to characterise the improvement of a house as materialistic. However, the need to be “better” than everyone else may hide a misguided assumption that fulfilment is guaranteed through social status or worldly estimation that the display of wealth affords. It is a struggle that reveals a spiritual poverty. In Jesus, competitiveness is not a function of survival. His use of a child for comparison is to highlight their uncluttered simplicity. For Jesus, to be ahead is to aim for an excellence or a nobility in the domain of our personal behaviour—both private and public. In other words, with Him, our striving is to be holier but not than thou. It is to strain ahead for His Kingdom.

The only competition amongst the Disciples is to follow Him wherever He goes—like a German Shepherd Dog that shadows its master, or a child that clings to his or her parent. What powered Peter’s early discipleship is quite apparent. He thought he was following Jesus but he was following his own idea of a Messiah. For Peter, the chosen and anointed one was patterned after the model monarch of Israel, King David. Peter can hardly be blamed for that. The entire Jewish mindset is influenced by this belief that the promised Messiah will lead them to territorial integrity.

Jesus did lead them. He kept stressing to them that He will be handed over to be crucified. His glory will come not from this world but from the Father. That is the conversion that Peter and the rest must go through. The remaining chapters of Mark’s Gospel describe that journey. In this passage, the instructions or the teachings that Jesus gave them is more than an impartation of knowledge.

Good teachers recognise that. They do not really “teach” knowledge but rather they convert their students. Revolutionary leaders are great teachers simply because they capture the hearts of their followers. In today’s passage, the tone of the conversation amongst the Apostles might give the impression that Jesus was unsuccessful. But every single one of them, with the exception of John[3], died a martyr’s death—a potent signal of their conversion to Jesus, their Lord and Saviour. When Peter fled from his crucifixion in Rome, according to the “apocryphal Acts of Peter”, he encountered the Christ going in the opposite direction to Rome, seemingly to be crucified in his cowardly place. Peter’s “Quo vadis, Domine” occasioned from Jesus “Romam eo iterum crucifigi” which struck Peter not just the shame but also gain him the courage to face his own martyrdom.

The key to our conversion is love. Love for the man Jesus. In terms of competitiveness and being ahead, we can discern a bigger picture here. Firstly, it does not mean that only “the humble” or the “poor” are better disciples. Admittedly, wealth tends to blind us but rich in our Catholic history are kings and queens who are saints. Even though they were wealthy and way ahead of everyone, they never allowed their power or position to blind them to who they truly are. Secondly and importantly, what was decisive in their lives was that they loved Jesus dearly. That love for Him flowed into the conduct of their courtly lives and also the active ministry toward His poor.

We can observe this love in the conversion of a saint very much in the vein of today’s Gospel. He is none other than Ignatius of Loyola. In his recovery from a battle wound, he read the Imitation of Christ and the Lives of the Saints. Prior to his conversion, he was a courtier of vain fantasies, a womaniser and a gambler. Reading the lives of Ss Francis and Dominic changed him. “What if I should do what St Francis did?”. “What if I should act like St Dominic?”. Their examples pruned Ignatius’ pride and from there he sought to serve the same Lord of both Ss Francis and Dominic.

From our saints, we realise that our conversion must go beyond mere knowledge “of” the Lord. Millions know “of” Jesus and are content to stop there. We are apprehensive with moving “beyond the knowledge of Jesus” because we also realise that to know Him personally might demand a lot more than we are prepared to give. In general, nobody sacrifices himself or herself for an idea. Ideology when unfulfilled will only harden and embitter a heart. Whereas love provides the condition for the possibility of self-abandonment and self-sacrifice. Love for Jesus is the strength of saints and martyrs who follow Him right to the end. Think about it. For some of us, the world is a royal mess and perhaps a reason to despair. But look at those who love Jesus. Despite the depressing odds, they continue to labour for Him and often unnoticed by a world fixated by an obsession to be seen, to be recognised and to be acknowledged. Those who are in love with Jesus exudes a peace that can only come from an intimacy with the Lord. In conclusion, to be competitive is natural. But the logic of competition for Jesus does not entail being ahead of others except in humble servitude. If we want to be a leader, be ready to suffer for others. And if we want to run ahead, then race for heaven. Like the disputing Apostles, ambition and jealousy take our eyes off the goal of Discipleship which is to love Him with all our heart, to serve Him with all our strength and to follow Him faithfully all the way to Calvary.
 

[1] Fear of losing out, or FOLO or FOMO, that is, the fear of missing out.

[2] In our era, political considerations play a major role in migration too. In this case, it is survival.

[3] John lovingly took the place of Jesus in caring for His mother, Mary. He is no less a follower. Through him, we are blessed with a most sublime Gospel.

Sunday, 12 September 2021

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

Today we arrive at a consequential climax. A feature of Mark’s Gospel is that the reader is truly privileged for right at the beginning he is already alerted to Jesus’ identity. Our Evangelist wasted no time in declaring at the beginning that his was “The Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God”. (Mk 1:1). The direct recipients of His miracles had no clue of His identity and even the exorcised spirits who felt the power and strength of His authority were gagged from revealing His true identity. For 8 chapters, the disciples themselves at times struggled to size Him up. “Who is this Man that even the winds and waters obey Him?”. (Mk 4:4).

This critical turning point has significant ramifications. This watershed moment begins with the question of identity “Who do people say I am?”. (Mk 8:17). It might sound like a harmless small talk but the query does pose a challenge to a social phenomenon that is important for us. In an era that rightly emphasises human dignity, the question of identity has taken such a central stage that “who (or what) we are” has been politicised and weaponised. However, a deeper reflexion may reveal that the focus on identity has less to do with dignity than with protecting our notion of “freedom”. Perhaps a line from a song “Numb” by Linkin Park succinctly captures this “Zeitgeist”. “All I want to do is be more like me and be less like you” articulates a plaintive cry for the freedom of expression. Our identity is largely shaped by the notion of “unfettered freedom”.

The Hebrew word “Messiah” or the Greek equivalent “Christos” might help us rethink our concept of “freedom”. The etymology of “Messiah or Christos” describes anointing. So Jesus the “Anointed” is the consecrated one. The act of “anointing” suggests that oil is poured on someone or that a person is smeared with ointment. If possible, visualise that Jesus took oil and poured it on His own head in an act of self-anointing. It surely looks odd and the same incongruity would be observed if we consider the Rite of Baptism for Adults.[1] Can one imagine an adult taking a jug of water, tilting the head and pouring upon himself while invoking the Trinitarian formula “I baptise myself…”.

Jesus Himself supplied the answer for His consecration when, in the synagogue in Nazareth, He read from the Prophet Isaiah. “The Spirit of the Lord has been given to Me, for He has anointed Me”. (Lk 4:18). Anointing is always relational as it is in our baptism. “Someone” has to baptise, confirm or even ordain another. In such a simple transaction what it shows is that our identity is relational and not simply “autonomous” as in “my freedom to behave as I like”.

The Christian identity is not founded on the politics of “absolute autonomy”. It is relational because it is linked to the mission of Our Lord Himself. This is where we are invited make a commitment as illustrated by this light-hearted discussion of a joint-venture project between Mr Pig and Mr Chicken. The suggestion by Mr Chicken that the name of the proposed eatery be named “Bacon-and-Egg” occasioned a rejoinder by Mr Pig that the strategic partnership is doomed from the beginning. “It is unequal”, says Mr Pig, “As I will be committed whereas you will merely be involved”.

The question by Jesus actually commits us to His mission in the world. What is appealing for many is to think of mission as a project, a task or a venture. But what is unavoidable when contemplating the identity of Jesus is how He spelt it out clearly for Peter that the path of the Messiah, that is, His mission in the world will drive Him deep into the heart of rejection and suffering. The response of Jesus to Peter’s remonstration proved inarguably that the identity of the disciple and apostle consists both of self-denial and of taking up one’s Cross in order to follow Him intimately.

Like Peter, we can be right and yet at the same time wrong. Egged on by a consumerist mentality of “mod con”, we tend to forget that our Christian identity is tied to the Cross and our vocation is to take it up and to love it. For many of us, it will take a lifetime to embrace this true superhuman identity. The dilemma of modernity is that we have been intoxicated by a hyper-indulgence of the senses that we are terrible at suffering. In fact, we try ever so hard to avoid coming to terms with one of the hardest facts of human existence—life is hard. Our definition of a good life is defined by creaturely comfort forgetting that suffering on account of following Christ is a service of faith because it prepares us for the eternal glory of union with God. As St Paul rightly reminds us, “suffering trains us for the carrying of a weight of eternal glory which is out of all proportion to it”. (2 Cor 4:17).

The word “suffering” is intimidating and it can crush the human spirit. The world will always persuade us that suffering is unnecessary and the primary purpose of life is to satisfy our appetites. It is when we offer our struggles to God, when we allow Him to help us carry our crosses, that suffering will no longer be an obstacle to the discipleship that we are invited to. In Christ, the Cross is our glory, not our shame.

Thus, in terms of shaping our Christian identity, we can avoid only so much of the Cross without losing our true self. In the Cross, we cherish commitment and are not content with mere involvement. What He wills, we desire even to the point of laying down our lives in order to do His will. The disciple can do this because he knows that the power of the Cross is transcendental. It is the only ladder he has to be able to ascend to heaven.

In conclusion, our true identity does not reside in gender or race. Instead, it is closely wrapped up with what it means to follow and witness to Christ. If individual autonomy is what we value, then the identity that grants the greatest freedom is shaped by Christ expressed through His salvific mission. In a world that is confused by what identity means, we are called to a distinctive moral belief and behaviour. It will mean that we stand alone at times. “Who do you say I am?” is a question which may be naïve at first but the answer we supply Jesus determines how we profess and live. For Peter and the rest of the followers, we can trace a movement from indifference to commitment, from Disciples to Apostles. Likewise for us, if He is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then every fibre of our being strains to commit itself to live according to the identity that He is the Lord in every sense of the word and our lives are humble testimonies of that.


[1] For infants, it is straightforward. They cannot do anything for themselves.

Saturday, 4 September 2021

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

This Sunday we continue along a sacramental trajectory which, at first glance, has nothing to do with food. Instead, the focus is provided by the connexion between the 1st Reading and the Gospel whereby the promise of Isaiah’s Messianic age is now fulfilled and witnessed in the ministry of Jesus.

Concretely, Jesus healed a man with both a hearing and a speech impediment. While the nuts and bolts vividly refer to the restoration of two senses in the man, a more implicit focus is actually on the nature of sacramentality. A fitting locus to better appreciate the essential workings of a sacrament is our experience of technology. A quality which permeates our hi-tech universe is the ubiquity of touch. In the case of the all too familiar smudges on our device’s display, think “oleophobic” screen protector that prevents leaving an oily film residue from repeated touching. Furthermore, “haptic” is the technology related to tactile sensation when we interface with our electronic gadgets. The “vibration” from pressing the screen is an example of haptic feedback.

Thus far, our reaction to the pandemic has created an absurdity. We are immersively tactile as apparent through our touch technology. Think vaccination centres where an official has to help a tech-challenge elderly. Fomite transmission is likely when the official touches a possibly contaminated smartphone.[1] At the very least, social distancing is an act which denies the very nature of who we are as tactile creatures. What has been steadily drummed into us is that life is secured through “haphephobic behaviour”.

In view of our proximity and contact anxiety, this miracle which restores the auditory faculty and speech function to the man born deaf and dumb is bold because Jesus stuck His finger into the ears and spat on the man’s tongue. How “earthy” can one get? It is crude, bordering on disgusting, when we contrast this dramatic healing account with the Centurion seeking a cure for his servant. The Centurion’s faith expressed in “Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof but only say the word and my servant will be healed” occasioned a response from a distance.

Fortunately, this rather coarse approach to restoration provides a compelling reminder of the “incarnational” foundation of our sacramental economy. Firstly, the retention of an Aramaic expression “Ephphatha” (“be opened”) in a Gospel written in Greek in a way authenticates the “facticity” of the Incarnation. It is significant that the Evangelist kept the groaning of Jesus in His mother-tongue. Secondly, that the “Word was made flesh” is the basis for our oft-repeated definition of a Sacrament: It is an “outward sign of inward grace”. The Sacraments work through the mediation of outward signs which make them inherently physical, material and “sense-able”. They use elements like oil, water, bread, wine. Sensible gestures are not left out as in the “Rite of Ephphatha” where the celebrant touches the ears and mouth of the infant after the Rite of Baptism. These gestures are derived from the healing action of Jesus[2] in today’s Gospel. Materiality and sensibility, either through natural elements or symbolic gestures, are the media through which Christ effects His salvation. And not only that as we shall see later.

The restoration of hearing is closely linked to the loosening of the tongue. In an atmosphere of fear generated by Covid 19, Jesus is inviting us to hear and also to proclaim. In the 1st Reading, God promised through the Prophet Isaiah to be with us. In the Gospel, Jesus is Emmanuel fulfilled. Under this tyrannical terror of Covid anxiety, can we hear Him and have we confidence in His promise of salvation?

Whether we like it or not, we have become terrified of an essentially human feature. Deeply suspicious of touch, we view our sacramental nature not as a strength but a mortal weakness[3]. We console and comfort ourselves that we can happily ease into this “new normal”, when in fact, it is a myth as we continue to suppress the very quality or feature that makes us alive.

Given that God has assured us that we will not be left to our own devices, the challenge now is to address this overwhelming fear that has invaded our sacramental space or constitution and has kept us locked in. Can we recover our confidence that touch is healing? The way forward is to be found in appreciating what it means to be “touched” by God.

There are layers “contact” or more appropriately, levels of “touching”. God is omnipresent and He can touch us even if we are not physically present in Church. He touches us through Sacred Scriptures, prayers, the homily when we attend an online Mass. This forms the basis for our spiritual preparation in the drive-through Holy Communion. Our initiative in providing the Blessed Sacrament to those who are spiritually prepared is supported by the Gospel today. Now Jesus touches us physically through the Sacraments because every Sacrament is the action of Christ Himself effected through the ministers of the Church. We are not pure spirits but are embodied beings. Thus, redemption is mediated because the body is to be saved.

While the Gospel clearly illustrates that the physical healing of the man was restorative, there is, however, a deeper impairment. Physical impairment is not as limiting as psychological or spiritual impediment. Hopefully, the physical restoration of this sense-impaired man allows us to see how deaf and dumb we can be when our paranoia is psychological and our dis-ease spiritual. A way to recover our confidence in God is to remember that the only way we can fully live is not to be afraid of death. This globalisation of paranoia must be illuminated by the promise of God that the Resurrection restores us to the life promised to us. In this, we may have unwittingly operated with a mentality of repudiation in which we forget the past where God has shown Himself to be trustworthy. The Israelites crossing the Red Sea prefigured the greatest crossing. Christ Himself “crossed” death to reach the Resurrection. Through His death, He paved the way for our dying and crossing. Death in a pandemic must still be contextualised with the promise of the Resurrection.

At the start, I mentioned that at first glance, the trajectory of the Gospel has nothing to do with food. But it has. To save us, God touches us to the core of our being. Therefore it is right to state that Jesus is never far from our salvation or we are never far from being saved by Him. In this new age of the Church[4] Jesus acts through the Sacraments to bring us the salvation which He guaranteed through Isaiah and effected in the healing touch of the man born deaf and dumb. For us, in the Sacrament of the Eucharist, Jesus is the fulfilment of the assurance made before the Ascension that He will be with us till the end of time. In conclusion, presuming that one is spiritually prepared, the reception of Holy Communion by means of the drive through initiative brings out clearly the aspect of the Eucharist as truly Viaticum—He touches us. Fear not for He will always be with us along the way until we have arrived at our eternal destination.



[1] Headphones and headsets. Anything which is shared is possible fomite transmission.

[2] “The Lord Jesus made the deaf hear and the dumb speak. May He soon touch your ears to receive His word, and your mouth to proclaim His faith, the praise and glory of God the Father. Amen”.

[3] If we think about it, it does not make sense. How can mortality which is “essential” OF our nature be considered a weakness? We are mortal beings as the philosopher Heidegger reminds—beings unto death. Every breath is one breath to death. It should be viewed not as a weakness but rather as path toward freedom.

[4] Definitely not the New Age that believes that the “self” is the saviour a la self-help etc.