17th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C 2019

You know the terrible twos. What they called a young child when he turns the corner of one? It seems that the cute little toddler has developed a Frankie’s complex and only wants to do things his way. I think this syndrome is not just restricted to a terrible two-year old child. Adults are frequently like that.

For we adults bring “my way” into our prayers too. The central theme of today’s Gospel and the first reading is prayer. Abraham pleaded with God to spare the lives of the people on account of what good the Lord can see in the few. Jesus taught the Disciples not a method of praying but rather the very Prayer itself which we devoutly termed as the Lord’s Prayer.

Unfortunately, a prayer such as the Our Father, locates it within the tradition of formulaic prayer. This type of prayer sounds like a mindless litany of repetitive chanting which in the context of today’s intentionality falls within the category of mumbo jumbo. Intentionality just means that we need the “head” to be in what we are doing in order for it to be meaningful. Curious that we are, we want to “understand” so that we can say that whatever we experience, it “means” something. Thus, if one were to do something mindlessly, it somehow slides down the scale of “meaningfulness”. Like household chores for example. Since the intellect is engaged in the search for meaning, it follows that any action one engages in has got to make sense. Interestingly, we associate understanding with the phrase “make sense” which then relegates the intellect to the realm of feeling. However, the intellect is primarily the organ of truth. It hones in on truth but when we subvert truth with meaning, it does not take far for truth to be tethered to feelings. How often is it that we define truth by how we feel? For example, when a marriage has no more “feelings”, does it drop off the scale of meaning? When there is no more excitement in the marriage, is the love less true? Our divorce rate seems to confirm that it is.

With feeling as a canon for meaningfulness, then out goes the Hail Mary or Glory Be. Even the Lord’s Prayer will not be spared. There was a time when we used to give a patronising nod to those who come for Mass but ended up saying the rosary. Why? Because these people have no understanding of “active participation”—which translates to a necessity of the mind understanding in order to derive or elicit meaning. In effect, formulaic repetitive prayers are for the less clever and also for the less capable, namely older people. This is a category which does not amount to any significance in the larger schema of urgency. Let me be clear that I am not deriding or insulting people who pray the rosary or the chaplet of mercy even if it feels like I am.

No. Instead, let me jump to something which Pope Benedict in his first encyclical highlighted. He brought up the priority of prayer in the context of pressing needs—which is a catchphrase for the “larger schema of urgency”. He pointed out that “Prayer, as a means of drawing ever new strength from Christ, is concretely and urgently needed. People who pray are not wasting their time, even though the situation appears desperate and seems to call for action alone. Piety does not undermine the struggle against the poverty of our neighbours, however extreme. In the example of Blessed (now Saint) Teresa of Calcutta we have a clear illustration of the fact that time devoted to God in prayer not only does not detract from effective and loving service to our neighbour but is in fact the inexhaustible source of that service. In her letter for Lent 1996, Blessed (now Saint) Teresa wrote to her lay co-workers: “We need this deep connexion with God in our daily life. How can we obtain it? By prayer”.[1]

To be fair, Benedict XVI did not make any distinction between mindful and mindless prayer. However, one may still detect a certain hubris amongst the learned, a kind of arrogance which we may not articulate and this pride considers prayer (especially the repetitive type) as being “mindless” when measured against what one can do and achieve. When praying we need an intention or we set a goal but when praying the Hail Mary over and again and nothing seems to happen, it does not take much to conclude that mindless prayers are ineffective.

Prayer, if anything, denotes a relationship with God. We would like to think of Abraham as shrewd in his negotiating skills to the point of human triumph over the divine where he almost twisted God’s arm into submission. But what Abraham did was no more than what Jesus tells us to do: Ask, knock and be persistent in seeking. However, the asking was not in any way a one-way street sort of “gimme, gimme, gimme”. There was reasoning in such a way that Abraham pleaded for the lives of those whom in God’s vision appeared less deserving of life. And if we consider the image given to us in the Apocalypse, that is, of the Lord knocking at our door, we can appreciate that God kept the conversation with Abraham because He too is searching for a relationship with us.

Asking is relational. In our case, it also expresses a relationship of dependence. If you give it a further thought, much of our praying is not relational in the deeper sense of the word. Apparently, I am told, the collection this weekend will drop. Why? Bukit Mertajam. If you cannot venture that far north, then perhaps Port Klang. If that is not possible, you might aim for Alor Gajah. If that is out of the way, you can settle for Pamol Estate. St Anne is the miracle. Shrines are popular because they are linked to asking and at first glance, it is a fulfilment of Jesus’ command to ask.

But, is there true dependence when we ask? In these hallowed and sacred places, it is often the case that people ask in desperation. There is nothing wrong with that. They should. However, when they are not in desperation, what happens? What sort of relationship do people, who are not desperate, have with God?

It is often the situation, that we ask, based not on our dependence on God, but only because we are incapable. I used to attend meetings of altar servers in the previous parish where they would start off with a prayer and I would laugh out loud at the end. It sounded something like this: “Dear Lord, we pray that our meeting will not be a failure and that we can proceed with what we have planned”. It is a prayer that exemplifies the reality that God is no more than a fail-safe “device” or entity. Why? We are self-sufficient and our relationship with Him is only as much as He could and we hope that He would, prevent us from suffering the fate of failure.

Prayer symbolises a relationship of dependence on God. In many instances, we enter into it with a sense of entitlement and God’s role in prayer is to answer and bow down to our will. Whereas, real prayer recognises our dependence on Him. But, for a society that is self-sufficient and technologically powerful, prayer merely stands in when we are impotent or incapacitated. We pray not because we dependent. Instead, we only turn to God when we cannot depend on ourselves. The point is, can or cannot, our relationship with God is always one of dependence.

In the same encyclical Benedict XVI reminds our self-surfeited society, “it is time to reaffirm the importance of prayer in the face of the activism and the growing secularism of many Christians engaged in charitable work. Clearly, the Christian who prays does not claim to be able to change God's plans or correct what he has foreseen. Rather, he seeks an encounter with the Father of Jesus Christ, asking God to be present with the consolation of the Spirit to him and his work”.[2]

I am not mocking or demeaning anyone who turns to prayers in desperation or when in need. By all means do so because Jesus did tell us to ask, to seek and to knock. However, go deeper. Enter further into the relationship trust and reliance because we will always need God whether we want Him or not, whether in desperation or not. Our lives depend on Him whether we are aware or not. Prayer merely grounds this existential reality. So, let us never cease to pray.


[1] Deus caritas est, 36

[2] Deus caritas est, 37

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2019 Year C

It is the Sunday of the Good Samaritan. Jesus is still making His resolute way to Jerusalem when a meeting with a lawyer turned into a match of wits. This learned lawyer, instead of asking Jesus, as he did in both Mark and Matthew, what the greatest commandment is, he zeroed in on the yardstick for attaining eternal life. And not in a humble manner though.

Whatever the manner he did, this question becomes for us a truly magisterial moment and more. I am interested in the more and will address it later.

The question about the greatest commandment is easily answered by both the Shema of Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18. One should love the Lord with the whole heart, soul, mind and strength and also to love one’s neighbour as oneself. However, the question on the benchmark for eternal life gave Jesus the opportunity to enlighten the lawyer on how to love the Lord and neighbour. So, this question is not really to establish the guideline of who our neighbours are but rather to rethink how we can be neighbours to others.

This definitely enlarges our notion of what it means to extend help to others. Human that we are, we are often limited by our categories. Often and unwittingly, we perceive through the lens of our prejudices. I have heard of people who will not rent a house to a person of a particular colour, for example. Hence, in a way, to describe the Samaritan as good is to expand the concept of neighbourliness because a good Samaritan is oxymoronic. Nothing good can come from him as good and Samaritan are both mutually exclusive. In fact, the Levite possibly crossed the road because in the Old Testament, God thought poorly of the Samaritans who live in Shechem (Eccl 50: 25-26). Therefore, in using the term, perhaps Jesus is teaching us that neighbourliness must cuts through the thickets of bias stereotyping. The Samaritan depicted as good helps us appreciate that assistance can come in the most unexpected form.

In a way, we are accustomed to viewing the notion of the Samaritan through the lens of sociability. How so? Can you name the one scourge in this country which is perhaps the embodiment of anti-social behaviour? You could shout corruption but I would say snatch theft. We read horror stories about them leaving their victims for dead. Would it not be nice to be rid of this affliction? Sociability is a measure of how we all can get along with each other no matter what. It coincides with our intuition that society has to be a place of human flourishing. Nobody wants to live in a dysfunctional society. Does it explain why so many of our compatriots have chosen to give up their citizenship for Australia, UK, US, Canada, NZ and Singapore? A functioning society is a profoundly powerful symbol of civilisation. In light of this sociability and human flourishing, to be civilised requires that we care deeply about the inequalities that exist in human societies and must strive to make right all that is wrong. Therefore, the Good Samaritan may be an icon of Man’s attempt to rid society of all kinds of prejudices in order to create a better world.

However, it is easy to miss the subtlety of this parable because we can be caught up with being neighbours to others. We all know and not just feel that something is amiss in our world which in turn becomes an impetus to do something about it. This drive is definitely augmented by our technological capabilities. We believe we have the wherewithal to make the necessary adjustments to transform the world so that being a “good” neighbour is the set standard of what a civilised society is supposed to be. In other words, the transformation we long for is another word for becoming a better human. Think about it, right? All the mod-cons have for their goal an enlargement of the space that makes human flourishing possible. We would want machines to take over our tedium of work so that we can have the chance to live leisurely. In fact, the word “scholar” is derived from the Greek “scholastes” which translates as “one who lives at ease”. So, a scholar is really a gentlemen of true leisure.

Earlier on, I mentioned about the magisterial moment and more. The more is when this Gospel of Nice we buy into might blind us to a deeper reading of the Good Samaritan. What is this Gospel of Nice? A better human being is by definition a nice person as in “Why can we not just get along with everyone and be nice”? It is a moralistic programme but the more that we might miss out is that the Good Samaritan is also a commentary on the fallen state of humanity. According to the Christological and soteriological allegory of Church Fathers like St Augustine, Jesus is the true, Good Samaritan who restores fallen mankind to the right relationship with God which the old dispensation could never do. Humanity is represented by the wounded victim after he was attacked by Satan. The Devil and his minions are personified by the thieves. The old dispensation is symbolised by the priest and the Levite. They stood for the best of what mankind had to offer but in themselves, they were unable to do anything for the victim.

It is left to the outsider and the rejected, the Samaritan who stands for Jesus Christ, to come to the rescue of wounded humanity. How much more sacramental can we get when the Samaritan uses oil and wine to salve the effects of sin on mankind. He brings the man to the inn which is a metaphor for the Church and even provided for further healing by giving power to the innkeeper, meaning the Apostles and their successors, who carry the ministry of healing through the sacrament of reconciliation.

Steeped in poverty, struggling with choking inequalities and in a world that is often mean, it is no wonder that being a neighbour—a good one, ranks highly in the modern valuation of discipleship. Christians are indeed called to be neighbours to the world. But, in the mission to better the world, the danger is to reduce it to just a human project. The parable, even though it challenges us to be good, clearly has soteriological significance—“What must I do to gain eternal life”?. Thus, the parable of the Good Samaritan has two goals. Firstly, it exhorts us to build a better world by being the good neighbour that Jesus was to the wounded. Secondly, it is to recall that we need God who in the person of Jesus has come to redeem us. We cannot do it ourselves no matter how powerful our technology is. Finally, the figure of the Good Samaritan bid us to remember that ultimately our goal is to be saved for eternal life. Nothing comes close to this objective.

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C 2019

The mission of the Seventy Two is peculiar to Luke’s Gospel. There, Jesus sent them out like lambs amongst wolves. Whilst it conjures an image of innocence in the clenched jaws of violence, it actually fits perfectly into our liturgy: “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world”. In other words, followers of Jesus are lambs sent to bear the consequences of their own sins and also of the world. What that means is that we embrace hatred not because we espouse or champion it but rather through our embrace, love may flow out through us. Just like Jesus did. The buck stopped with Him. If you remember last week’s Gospel, the Apostles wanted to call down fire and brimstone onto a village. But, instead of shedding the blood of others, Jesus took upon Himself the results of our sins so that we may be freed from sinning. If you like, the disciple, following the footsteps of His Master, allows himself to be a punching bag.

To allow others to walk all over you? Woah… stop it there, right?

In this day and age, it is truly a tall order. Ordinarily, discipleship is already next to impossible, how much more in a world of victims? Our class, gender, hierarchical or racial radars are already on hyper alert for the slightest scorn or snub to our honour or dignity. We are taught to oppose any forms of victimisation even as we ironically emphasise our victimhood. In other words, we may eschew victimisation (being victimised) but at the same time we celebrate victimhood by making sure that others know that we have been done to or aggrieved and demand that we be protected from hurt and harm. I am sure you recognise terms such as safe spaces and trigger warnings.

If we are such pathetic victims, then how can we bear insults or humiliation for the Lord? What is humility in such a culture? Indeed, the days of meekly accepting our station in life are long over as we inhale this competitive fume of entitlement and individual autonomy. I decide for myself what I want to be. So, in this dignified safe space of self-actualisation and self-determination, how can one be a lamb amongst wolves?

Perhaps there might be a way out of this problematic.

Let us explore another impossible task to see if it can shed light on what Jesus is asking of us. The famous but probably impossible exercise is the Franciscan encyclical “Laudato si”, which advocates the preservation of the environment. It is conceivably a Sisyphean task which is never going to succeed because our current model of meaning is based on consumption. The so-called ecological drive to avert an environmental disaster is easier said than done. For example, if everyone were to stop consuming, there would be a cessation of goods and services. If that happens, then, there will be an economic slowdown. The short of it, families will starve.

The sad reality is that our notion of meaning is trapped within the cycle of consumption. Most unfortunately the unchallenged logic underpinning our consumption is the endless supply of resources. Even the very green policies, adopted to avert the impending ecological disaster, are geared towards consumption. Why would we have biodegradable bags? If plastic is that bad, should we not just ban it? A plausible reason for our continued use is that we have successfully commercialise the tag “biodegradability”. Since it is biodegradable, we salve our guilt by hastening its breakdown. In other words, it is a worry-free consumption because the plastic bag will breakdown into is harmless starch components. This so-called “green policy” enables us to maintain the rapacious rate of consumption.

Some have ventured to query if there could be another basis for meaning besides that of consumption.

What is also devastating is that the current notion of meaning derived from devouring is not predicated on quantity but quality. It is not how much we can consume even though we are gluttons but rather the ability to consume. Hence, it implies that we must increase the opportunities of consumption. Simply translated: more money. In order to consume “quality stuff” we require a never ending supply of money. Perhaps you understand why the country skidded down the slippery slope of corruption. In general, however, the possibility of consumption is illustrated through exclusivity—first class travels to expensive vacations, haute fashion—no less than Birkin bags, exotic seafood—abalone, shark’s fins, spacious sport vehicles—Axia is a mobile Milo tin can or alternatively a moving coffin, luxurious condominiums—2000sq ft is a cramped refugee shack. If you were filthy rich, would you travel on Air Asia? This type of consumption generated by meaning is supported by the easy availability of money, lots of money or an obscene amount of wealth. It explains why JB is the second largest city. So many are living here and working in the neighbouring country. Why go through the hassle if money were not an objective? Nothing wrong with that but we must ask an important question.

In a world awash with money for consuming, can we truly find meaning therein?

Perhaps we should ask many of the elderly parishioners present what their greatest fears are? Abandonment? Poor health? Loneliness? What are these fears but merely masks for the fear of death and the beyond?

So, what lies beyond death? The pat answer is paradise but we do struggle to comprehend heaven. Why? It is because the meaning of the word meaning has changed. Once upon a time, meaning was derived from having moral causes gained through the service of others or of God alone. Ask the teachers who were trained in Brinsford and Kirkby. They embraced the vocation to educate the young. Many dedicated themselves to the endeavour without thinking of personal gains. Or, ask the contemplative cloistered nuns. The Carmelites, we know, live for God alone. Today, sadly, for many, meaning is acquired from being loved. Is it not why we want as many “Likes” for our Facebook postings? Or, meaning is obtained from the feeling of satisfaction and general contentment in oneself.

As you realise, a meaning that was once larger than the self is now narrowly confined to the self. We have personalised and “me-niaturised” everything. Miniaturised may as well not be spelt with “mini” but me-ni. Does this “selfish meaning” contribute to our fear of losing out, of being overlooked etc. Our neighbours in the south call it Kiasu.

Hopefully, you can now appreciate that the crux or the conjunction between the demands of Jesus for His disciples and the call to live Laudato si is found in where we locate meaning.

Meaning may begin with the self but it must end beyond the self. Jesus Himself showed us that pouring out His life for others was the greatest meaning He gave to His life. Ultimately, meaning must be directed to eternity. Without eternity or without heaven, we will always fear coming out as Nr 2. Nobody wants to be a loser. Hence, we are condemned to the misery of consuming but never discovering the true meaning of life. If that be the case, forget about being the “lamb led to the slaughter”. The choir over the weekend chose to sing the Prayer of St Francis Assisi’s. It does not make sense.

Why?

Be a punching bag for others? No way!

"Grant that I may never seek so much to be consoled as to console. To be understood as to understand. To be loved as to love with all my soul?" No way!

For when you fight with your husband, do you really care to understand him? No. More likely, you might be justifying your actions or behaviour and his job is to understand you.

We all crave to be consoled, understood and loved.

Finally, the saints see heaven as their destination. 

All meaning is derived from that goal. Even failures are seen in the light of heaven. As the Gospel ends, “Rejoice not because the spirits submitted to you but rejoice rather that your names are written in heaven”. Many of us live humble unassuming lives where no one sees the good that we do. In a self-referential culture, one that promotes the self, purgatory is to be forgotten and hell is oblivion. Well, recall most especially that when men cannot see, God sees. Peace comes from knowing that He alone is the guarantor that our loss, that our failure and ultimately that of our death will not be in vain. We are not condemned to an eternal cycle of over-consumption in order to find meaning. Instead our meaning is derived by daring to be the lamb that Jesus has sent amongst the wolves.

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C 2019

I feel justifiably apostolic. Not in the sense of an apostle working to further the Kingdom of God. See, when I drive and someone cuts me off rudely, that is when my X-Men fantasies kick in. I wish I were Magneto. With a wave of a hand, I can flick the offending car off the road. And here is the catch: the driver does not die but he or she is maimed for life.

Hmmm. One can always take pleasure in such an evil reverie!

Do not you dare turn judgemental on me. Take a look at the Gospel today. The Apostles wanted to burn down a whole village. Me, I just want to flick off a car.

But seriously, Jesus was right in rebuking His disciples as you are if you think I have been evil in my thoughts. Jesus was on the roll. The Gospel today marks the beginning of the end. It was the turning point in His ministry and it is marked by the key phrase: When the time drew near for Him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely took the road for Jerusalem.

The first reading becomes an important lens for understanding the Gospel today. Jesus has a destination. He sets His face like flint for Jerusalem—otherwise known as the city of peace. It cannot be that just for the insults that He received, He would call down fire and brimstones. The King of peace going to His city cannot advocate violence as a response. He was quite unlike Elijah in 2 Kg 1:10. 

Secondly, in having a mission, Elijah was more congenial toward deviation. Elisha needed time to say goodbye; to perform his filial duties. I suppose such an attitude is more in keeping with our humanitarian times. Whereas the Lord was stricter. He painted three scenarios whereby the Kingdom of God takes precedence in the lives of the Disciples. Foxes have holes, the disciples do not. Rest is not an option. The dead should be left to bury themselves. The mission is that urgent for once you have put your hand on the plough, do not turn to look back.

The almost inflexible conditions laid by Jesus indicate that the Kingdom should be central in our discipleship. How should this centrality be observed in our lives? Obviously this is a loaded question. Why? If the Kingdom’s priority is at the heart of Christian life, then why is the shape of the world still so bad? Perhaps the dismal state of affair confirms that we have not got our priority right. Christianity lived to the fullest is supposed to make the world a better place. It is not heaven but it is definitely going to be a place where one can recognise God’s presence.

I was having a discussion with Bernard our sacristan earlier on an issue that we face as a parish. Yesterday, Saturday, was also the Solemnity of Ss. Peter and Paul. As per the practice of the parish, Holy Communion is given under both species. The Mass is not celebrated in the Chapel but in the Church. However, Bernard mentioned that the crowd was basically the usual congregation for our daily Masses.

To clarify, the centrality of the Kingdom should not be equated as “Church” attendance. Not at all. However, Vatican II tells us that the Holy Eucharist is "the source and summit of the Christian life" (Lumen gentium, no. 11; cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 1324). What does being the source and summit really mean in light of the Kingdom?

When we mouth a slogan long enough we easily forget what it stands for. In general, we will adopt a functional attitude toward it meaning that the slogan has to be seen but it does not really do anything. A good example was the “1 Malaysia” slogan--basically badges and billboards. Nothing substantial. In our case, the source and summit is translated as fulfilling our Sunday obligation. We attend Mass so that life can go on.

To give another example, yesterday evening was our usual “anticipated Mass”. Originally, the justification for attending that Mass was that those who cannot do so on Sunday can at least fulfil their obligation—doctors, nurses, firemen, policemen, air traffic controllers or any of the ancillary services. Of course, according to Jewish reckoning, Saturday evening is supposed to be considered as Sunday already. If one were to follow that argument to its logical conclusion, those who attend Sunday evening’s Mass would have all failed to meet their obligation. Sunday evening’s Mass should be counted a Monday’s!

See, if we isolate the Sacraments (especially the Eucharist) from the sacramentals, it is very easy for the Sacraments to be meaningless. Imagine a pyramid. The source and summit presumably describe the top part of the pyramid. Just like an ice-berg—the fatal mistake is to think that the top of the ice-berg is all there is. In the economy of salvation, the source and summit rests on the fragile stilts of the sacramentals.

Every one of the six sacraments is directed to the Eucharist since it sits at the top of the pyramid. If every sacrament converges in that single point, how much more the sacramentals. The object of the sacramentals is to manifest due respect for the sacraments and in turn secure the sanctification of the faithful. In short, sacramentals help us to be better Christians.

There are many sacramentals. Blessings, bells, incense, water, oil, medals, crosses, holy pictures, religious vows, Church architecture, consecration of a Church, scapulars, rosaries, candles, relics and even the saints themselves are sacramentals. Doing away with them, not because we want to but because we are practical, will only result in the impoverishment of the sacraments and finally of the Eucharist. If nothing that is connected to our faith excites us, very soon, nothing will excite us. Just like a boyfriend or a girlfriend—if nothing of him or her excites you, pretty soon he or she will be out of your radar.

We are not asked to multiply the sacramentals. In is not magic. You are not required to manufacture new sacramentals. However, we are invited to appreciate them for what they do to us and for us. Our approach to the sacraments, especially the Eucharist, cannot take the path of the practical but rather from them, they flow out into our daily life, sanctifying all that we have.

When we bless a car, it does not mean that our car will run better. Sometimes I make the joke that the blessing only works until 110kph. In the case of our neighbour down south, the blessing does not exceed 90kph. A blessing is not supposed to be magical. Instead, the blessing reminds us that in all the journeys we make, we must not forget that Jesus is the only journey we can make in order to have eternal life. He is, after all, the Way. Incorporating the sacramentals into our lives will enable us to appreciate better the Lord and the life that we are called to live.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, sacramentals are “sacred signs instituted by the Church to prepare us to receive the fruit of the sacraments and to sanctify different circumstances of our lives (CCC. 1677)”.

Jesus makes His way resolutely for Jerusalem. In a manner of speaking, our resolution is we all desire a vibrant parish and a dedicated community centred on the Eucharist that flows out into mission. The centrality of the Kingdom, the discipleship we are called to and the mission we all engage in are means to an end for they indicate heaven as our final destination. Christ gave us seven sacraments as signposts pointing us in that direction. In heaven there are no more sacraments. We do not need them because we are already in beatific vision. But, along the way, in this place of aridity, Church gives us sacramentals, to remind us to keep our focus on God. Thus, the saints, the angels, our beloved dead who are being purified are cheering us along the way. If we hold that the source and summit of Christian life is the Eucharist, then we would be wise to use the assistance the Church gives us because she, like our mother, desires that her children come to share in God’s life fully.

Just like the Lord on His resolute journey to Jerusalem, we too make our steadfast pilgrimage for heaven. It is good to come to attend Mass on a regular basis, that is, to fulfil your Sunday obligation. But we all need to grow out of this functional attitude established upon a foundation of not doing more when one can do less. It misses the point that Christ has called us to a fullness life. It is not for the lazy but for those whose hearts are big enough to love God and more.