Monday, 9 March 2020

2nd Sunday of Lent Year A 2020


We had two “close shaves” with Covid-19. Close shaves because both suspected cases turned out to be otherwise. So, in the interest of full disclosure, this is the fact, so far. Covid-19 has hit one of the parishes. It is not important where or which parish because it is merely a matter of time before we get one of our own. We may not have the source infection, but we can certainly be a vector for the spread. Hence, reasonable precautionary measures have been taken. The key word is reasonable because the almost certain (not absolute) measure that may stop the contagion is to cease ALL contact. If we adopt this “contactless” precaution and bring it to its logical conclusion, we might as well be in coffins because dead people have no contact. Our fondness for networking explains why human flourishing is social by nature. We are solitary by choice or circumstance. In essence we gravitate toward solidarity and only in preference or sometimes not, we lean toward solitude.

What can we learn from this Sunday’s Gospel in dealing with the current crisis?

Firstly, we learn about the nature of temptations or testing and secondly, how we respond to them reveals the God we believe in. 

From the desert of last weekend, we ascend Mount Tabor today—a journey that anticipates the climb to Calvary. No one who claims to follow Christ will be spared temptations. How have we stood up to the wiles of the lurking enemy? Not very well as Oscar Wilde had illustrated. Instead of standing up to the Devil, we frequently stoop down to him. Wilde would cheekily advise: the only way to overcome temptation is to give in to it. Succumbing to temptation is a behavioural response that disparages God’s grace as well as demeans human capacity to cooperate with that grace; a conduct which is not Christ-like.

In the apostolic ascent to Mount Tabor, one of the Temptations in last Sunday’s Gospel opens a window into our souls as we face the numerous challenges of life. Satan took Jesus up a very high mountain, whereas Jesus led the three apostles up a high mountain. Mountains are places of spiritual or sacred encounters. There on Mount Tabor, the three close associates of Jesus caught a glimpse of His glory realising that the man they had been following was more than a man. In the Transfiguration, they tasted His divinity.

It is on this high mountain that the Lord shows us what testing truly is. No matter how trying, temptation cannot exceed our capacity to overcome it when we are assisted by grace. This follows from the teaching of St Thomas that grace builds on nature. The Lord, who leads us up a high mountain, unlike Satan who took Jesus up a very high mountain, will not test us beyond our limits. Grace builds on nature means that God cannot lay upon us a burden beyond what we are capable of. Even in physics, this principle is observed. An example is Hooke’s Law with reference to an elastic spring. If you stretch the spring beyond its tensile strength, it will not recoil back to its original shape. Therein lies the beauty of Christ with regard to temptations. He knows we will fall into temptation, but He tells us to “Stand up. Do not be afraid”. In fact, from the cloud came a voice that says, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to Him”. This is the God whom we are to believe in and listen to.

But, do we really believe in Him?

We are now witnessing the second wave of the Covid-19 infection. Two things to note here. Firstly, precautions are necessary, and we have taken steps even though they might not be obvious. Secondly, foolhardiness is definitely not faith in God. With this in mind, about the precaution we need to take and also that being foolish does not equate to having faith, I would like to revisit the discussion about the cancellation of Masses in general and the manner of receiving Holy Communion in particular. The measures we have taken might reveal a clearer picture of the God we believe in and who is speaking to us in our fear.

The debate surrounding Holy Communion on the tongue is often couched in narrow subjective terms—mainly concerning the disposition of the communicant and of course, the state of one’s oral hygiene. In putting the case for Holy Communion in the hand, the persuasion will generally resort by default to an argumentum ad hominem. For example: When a person walks up, kneels down and stick out the tongue—is that person trying to prove that he or she is holier than everyone else? Within this logic, there is no reference to the “Whom” one is receiving. Who this God is whom one is receiving does not factor in the debate, apparently. One who “stubbornly” wishes to receive on tongue is frequently judged as Pharisaical and selfish especially in this current contagion.

The question of “personal holiness” (ex opere operantis) stems from a Protestant reaction. It seems that the Sacrament’s efficacy is dependent on the moral disposition of the person. If the reception of Holy Communion on the tongue is judged to be a display of a holier-than-thou attitude, then this logical question should be asked: Does that mean only a holy person can receive Communion on the tongue? If the answer is “No”, then, it follows that the subjective disposition of the person, or better still, whether the mouth is clean or dirty, these are irrelevant to the discussion about Communion on the tongue. According to the Council of Trent, “in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist is contained truly, really, and substantially the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ". I am convinced that this is the reason for the seeming “stubbornness” of some people. It is not because they are holier than the rest. On the contrary, it is a gesture that stems from their heartfelt unworthiness before the God whom they are receiving. Communion on the tongue is symbolic of their reception of the God, the Lord, the King whom they adore and worship.[1]

Within this dispute on the manner of reception, what is more telling is that the precautionary measures that resulted in the cancellation of Masses elsewhere and the forcing of Holy Communion in the hand is not of the fear of Covid-19 but rather indicative of “what” we have come believe in. Holy Communion is no more than an empty symbol of Jesus for we no longer know the Whom we are receiving. This is evident in so many ways. We barely had 10 people at each stipulated hour of the Adoration and worse, when the Blessed Sacrament was processed from the Church to the prayer room, many were oblivious—talking and hardly anyone knelt before the passing Lord. The deacon may as well be carrying a banana, and people would not know the difference.

I am glad that the French Bishop from the Diocese of Belley-Ars has chosen to speak up. He decried the fear of the epidemic has now descended into an epidemic of fear. We run helter-skelter trying to avoid the contagion guided by a delusion that we are our own strength—a faith in our self-machination instead of faith in God’s solicitous care for us. In other words, we have to take care of ourselves. Why? Because our God is useless. He cannot take care of us.

This epidemic has exposed our lack of faith. Where is our faith in God’s attentive care for us? Will God ever test us beyond our capacity or we feel the trials that God permit us to suffer are cruelly beyond our capacity? The dumbing down of religious practice perhaps explains why we think our God is cruel.

In our Lenten campaign, one of the greatest weapons in our arsenal against the Devil’s temptations is self-restraint. This is why we fast. With God’s grace, we overcome temptation incrementally and not at a switch of a button. But our despondency is that God does not seem to work fast enough. We give in to despair. As mentioned earlier, Jesus knows our weakness and He encourages us to stand up and not be afraid. If you fall down, get up, fall, get up, fall, get up. And, whether we like it or not, according to Francis of Assisi, we have to make peace with Sister Death from whom no living man can flee. Coming to Church, we pray for God’s protection as well as for Christ’s strength to come to terms with Death’s inevitability.

We cannot allow this fear to cripple us. If anything, the Church should be packed with people praying to be delivered from this pestilence. Of course, the precaution holds even when there is no epidemic that if a person were sick and contagious, Christian charity demands that he or she stays away. Otherwise, pray more so that God will bend His ears to our cry to rid us of this plague, sooner rather than later.

In summary, you might be wondering why I brought up the discussion of Holy Communion on the tongue. I am making a stand. My fear is the increasing discrepancy between Whom we claim to believe in and what our practices signify. We accept that the Eucharist is the Body of Christ, yet, so many never check the palm after they have consumed the Host—to see if there are still minute fragments of the sacred species left behind. Each minute fragment contains the Body and Blood, soul and divinity of Christ, in its entirety, no less. Hence, my stand is not against anyone—not against Bishops who make decisions, not against people who fear, not against people who receive Holy Communion in the hand. It is against Satan—the father of lies and inconsistencies.

When at the end, we kneel down to recite the prayer to St Michael the Archangel we acknowledge that Satan prowls about seeking the ruin of souls. It is not a mindless prayer. It is real. Satan’s greatest weapon is our fear. He uses our fear to turn us away from God and for him, if the Blessed Sacrament is reduced to a symbol, as represented by the inconsistency between belief and behaviour, then Satan has imperceptibly won. He has managed to weaken our belief in the True Presence, making it harder to hear Christ’s assurance in this epidemic. Finally, if the Body of Christ were only a symbol, we have no hope of salvation. We might as well be receiving a placebo as the Filipinos would call it: Consuelo de bobo—a consolation for the stupid.


[1] Those who have habitually receive Communion in the hand should feel free to continue. They are protected by the indult that the Conference of Bishops of Malaysia, Singapore and Brunei, obtained in 1977. However, those who have arrived at an awareness of Whom they are receiving, and have chosen to receive Him on the tongue, they should also continue because to stop is to give in to contradiction which implies that one does not know Whom one had been receiving in the first place. The analogy here is one cannot “unsee” something. It cannot be that one day your belief led you to a particular gesture and the next day you behave in a manner contrary to your previous behaviour. So, if Christ is the King who deserves our best, it cannot be that we no longer give Him the best unless He is just a “thing” subject to one’s whims and fancies. Hence, ex opere operantis!!

Friday, 6 March 2020

1st Sunday of Lent Year A 2020

There is a market for happy-ending movies. Reason could be that we do not need reminders of how bad the situation is. Therefore, cinematic or literary happy endings are a form of escapism because reality is more than we can handle. A good example would be the political nightmare that appears to have gripped this country. This whole debacle that has kept many a-glued to their electronic screens has also spawn an array of comic relief posted on social media as such.
 
We appear to have imported this hunky-dory expectation into our religious experiences. Today, the Gospel injects a sobering shot of reality into this fanciful fairy-some world of ours. In our relationship with God, the initial sense of affirmation must give way to a period of probation or purification. Those preparing for baptism must take note that for a meaningful and genuine relationship to flourish, there has to be adversities and hardships to overcome.

The first Sunday of Lent is dedicated to this fundamental fact. Concerning our testings and trials, both the first reading and the Gospel call our attention to the truth that human existence goes beyond the physical and the material. We get a glimpse of mankind’s experience of the spiritual realm. Both the readings acknowledge the presence of Satan—a devious force that is manipulative and which tries hard to frustrate God’s plan.

You probably know what the word “Satan” in Hebrew means. It literally spells accuser. Satan resents the exalted place that man has in the eyes of God. On Ash Wednesday, we were reminded that man had been created from dust and to dust he shall return. In the presumptuous estimation of Satan, how could the Lord have fashioned something firstly from inconsequential dust and secondly ennoble it in His own image? How can God be foolishly generous to a creature that is inferior to the angels’ spiritual stature? Ever since the creation of man, Satan has set out to prove God wrong for moulding and gracing such an undeserving creature. Man can never be worthy of God’s love and friendship.

True enough, Adam fell through his misused of freedom. Therefore, Satan has stood as the accuser against God: “I had been right all along about man’s weakness and unfaithfulness. He is not worthy of your friendship and grace. Man will never be”.

Satan’s endeavour all along has been to remind God of His “mistake”; until the Incarnation. Man may have been unfaithful but God has proven Himself otherwise. He is faithful to the point that He readily came to us in the person of His Son: Jesus Christ. In Jesus, who is fully God and fully man, we have someone who embodies a faithfulness that is worthy of God’s friendship. Through His life, death and resurrection, He has paved the way again for man to be God’s friend. Indeed, when He had made man a little less than a god, He has never lost faith in him. That is the level of God’s friendship with humanity.

We hear this emphasised in the second reading. St Paul compared and contrasted Jesus with the first Adam. The first Adam failed whereas Christ, the second Adam, remained steadfast to God’s friendship enduring Satan’s attempts to lure Him into infidelity. Jesus’ friendship is the exemplar of trust in God rather than in Himself.

Every temptation we encounter is a derivative of the tests that Jesus underwent—pleasure, power and possession. The premise of Satan’s temptation is to make us forget our dependence on God. We are lured to trust in human and material realities. For example, a sizeable swathe of this country is in depression. We promote our culinary delights as a touristic highlight. Come and taste our cultural diversity but closer to truth we all could be just comfort eating. In other words, we are eating our depression. See, we have the semblance of modernity specifically in terms of governance—a parliamentary democracy—and yet our administration is nothing but feudal in essence—a feudalism very much dependent on patronage. This is an unspoken but tolerated arrangement. Ask yourself how much of “Datuk Datuk” you need to scrape to before you get a permit approved and how many brown envelopes have to go under the table? The point being our despair is actually a temptation to power. It does not seem so, right? In a feudal society, the serfs are powerless, so how can there be any temptation to power?

Precisely. We have come to believe that we have sole control of our destiny. We alone decide how to live, where to live and when to live. Euthanasia, once restricted to helping terminal patients die has now become “humanely” re-classified with a less threatening and more user-friendly term such as assisted-dying and it is on demand. The debate surrounding death’s destiny shows that ultimately human existence is self-willed and not God-willed. To be fair, we do have relative sway over our destiny because we are not automatons, robots or machines. But this power is relative in the sense that only God has the definitive say in our destiny.

So, when Jesus was tempted by Satan to throw Himself down in order to summon the angels, His response, “I shall not put God to the test” was an acknowledgement that His human existence is predicated on the will of God. It is true that despair or depression can be clinical. Some of us might need pink pills to perk ourselves up. But depression can also be spiritual in the sense that we despair that God is in control and that God can be trusted. If you like, our national depression has a spiritual pathology.

At the end of Mass, we all kneel and recite a prayer which sounds like a relic from an era long past. We beseech St Michael to assist us in this spiritual warfare. This prayer is not a reliquary of the past. It alerts us to the reality that Satan will do his utmost best to take us away from God’s love and friendship. He continues to tempt us into the vanity of unquestionable self-determination and at the same time, he lures us to believe that he does not exist. In a way, Satan has been successful. We still believe that we are in control. Of Satan we dare not blame him because technically, he does not exist.

The present pandemic is without doubt a test. To take precaution is an act of charity, whereas fear is not. Fear is giving in to the temptation that we alone can determine how long we live. The line between precaution and fear is thin. First, no Holy Water. Then, no more Holy Communion on the tongue. After that, no more imposition of ashes—just sprinkling on the crown. Soon to come, no more individual confession during the penitential services. But, we have hand-sanitiser. In hand-sanitiser we trust.

Tell me if what we are doing is taking precaution or acting out of fear?

Apart from this pandemic, there is also the political quagmire we are stuck in that threatens to drown us in despondency. Some have already stated that they will migrate. When trials come our way, instead of turning to God we run away from Him.

Tribulations could also be God’s invitation to double our prayer especially when we are most helpless. Not that we do not need Him when things are going well. In good times and in bad, our duty is to trust and be faithful to Him. But our natural instinct is to trust ourselves first and only turn to God when we have failed. The proper attitude, in all things, is to turn to God first because we have faith and trust in Him. So, to those going for Baptism this Easter, you are joining an enterprise founded on fidelity and confidence. Learn this truth so that you can prepare yourself for the testing that is sure to come. The rest of us, instead of panicking about the Covid-19 pandemic or mourning about the hopeless predicament of our political morass, come this Friday evening for the 24-hour adoration. We have not prayed enough or make sacrifices enough for the country. The Graeco-Roman world may teach us something about this temptation to “personal” power. They called it Deus ex machina. It is a theatrical or literary device introduce into a desperate situation for the purpose of resolving a conflict and to procure an acceptable outcome; like the Great Eagles in the movie Lord of the Rings coming to the rescue most unexpectedly. Wittingly or unwittingly, the Graeco-Roman have expressed a theological truth which today’s temptations of Christ is teaching us: Only God can be trusted. No matter how hopeless, believe so that He can save us.