We have entered into tempus per annum or what is commonly known as Ordinary Time—a rather misleading name for this season for it suggests of a characterless humdrum or a time that is unremarkably pedestrian. In short, boring. But the change in colour may help us appreciate the season better because green evokes life and therefore hope. The word “ordinary” instead of mediocrity actually hints of order, measure and rhythm. Thus, in these next 33 or 34 Sundays, the Church invites us to enter and meditate on the life of the Lord—His miracles and teachings—in light of the Resurrection.
However, there is an element of repetition this Sunday because the Gospel, rather than continuing with Matthew from last week, is taken from John and it seems to linger on the event of Christ’s baptism. John the Baptist gives witness to the Lord by not adhering to the standard protocol. “A man is coming after me who ranks before me because He existed before me”. John recognises his place in the schema of eternity and hence he cries out what we hear at each Mass: “Behold the Lamb of God”.
Whilst repetition can be tiresome, it may be good for us to reconsider what it means for ourselves to be baptised and to follow Jesus. A key to understanding our baptism may be found in the 2nd reading. Corinth represented a pagan world and not only was it a heathen city for it was notorious for its immorality. In greeting the baptised of Corinth, St Paul calls them the Church, the holy people, the saints sanctified in Jesus Christ. Here in this opening speech, St Paul zeroes in the effects of their baptism which is an incorporation into the Body of Christ as well as their participation in the mission of the Church. Grafted into Christ, every Christian is on mission.
In light of the immorality of the city of Corinth, the Christians did have a heavy responsibility. In fact, Paul had to remind them of this burden as he wrote to chide them for failure in their Christ-like duties. Perhaps it is good clarify that to be holy is not an indication of one’s merit as if one were great. Instead, holiness is an attribute of God and our holiness is indicative of our closeness to God. As Israel was holy, our holiness is a sign that we have been set aside for Christ. Hence, like Israel of old, a Christian through his or her baptism has been set apart to be a light to the nations so that God’s salvation may reach the ends of the earth.
How heavy do you think this responsibility is?
Firstly, the answer to this question can be found in the symbol of the Lamb. Jesus allowed Himself to be sacrificed on behalf of His people so that He could carry on Himself the sins of others. His sacrifice frees us from the bondage to the slavery of sin and death. As St Peter reminds us “You were ransomed… not with perishable things like silver or gold but with the precious blood of Christ as of a spotless unblemished lamb”. In a way, Christians are called to a life of sacrifice. No greater love than to lay down his or her life for his or her friends. This is the real cost of following Jesus Christ.
At the back of our minds, I supposed people are already working out the dues of discipleship, calculating the price for sacrificing. Like a lamb led to the slaughterhouse, one figures, “Err, is it worth it? Did I sign up for this?”. I doubt anyone in the right frame of mind would subscribe to this kind of discipleship.
However, let us look at the sacrifice of discipleship through the lens of the Ordinary Time.
If bland is supposedly the character of the season, then perhaps, sacrifice is to be found there. The grand gesture of death on the Cross is but once in a lifetime. Since you are not cats, I presume that you can only be killed once. Thus, the many deaths on the crosses of life are what we ordinarily endure throughout our earthly existence. Life is markedly routine and regular. We move without fanfare through the predictability of our domestic arrangements. Whatever is promised of excitement, it possibly affects a mere fraction of our timeline. Otherwise, in what is basically ordinary, we are called to be faithful. This requires a death like no other.
We need not look far for this kind of death on the Cross. Caring after a child who is special. Assuming responsibility for the well-being of a debilitated spouse or an aged parent or parents. Making your rounds as a doctor and treating each patient with loving consideration. Serving your most trying customer as if he or she deserves your undivided attention. Living with a disability that robs you of the simple joys of life. Submitting oneself to the rigours of getting up early to beat the jam before entering into Singapore and enduring the congestion coming home. Coming for obligatory Masses even when you feel disinclined to. Anything and everything can take on the nature of a sacrifice. It is frequently in the quiet rhythm of life that God’s will is to be found. Herein is the connexion between the bravado of death on the Cross and the unexciting monotony of faithfulness to the station of one’s life. Perhaps Shakespeare, in Julius Caesar, may shine a different light for us to see. He says, “A coward dies a thousand times before his death; the valiant never taste of death but once”. The contrary could also be true that from the perspective of discipleship and not cowardice, that death on the Cross, that final one sacrifice is only possible because we have already died a thousand deaths before arriving at Calvary. Humble submission to God’s will requires daily dying to oneself.
Finally, baptism inducts us into the life of Christ where we mirror Him offering ourselves to be a sacrifice pleasing to God the Father and at the same time, to be that light of Christ that shines out from the darkness of sin and death. This mission of being a light to the nations might sound glamorous until you begin to work out the mechanics of what it entails. Let us be clear that this light of Christ is never about us. The best analogy to illustrate this truth is found in the relationship between the sun and the moon. The moon emits no light of its own. It merely reflects the light of the sun. Likewise, a Christian is not a light of his own merits. He shines out only because he has allowed the light of Christ to pass through him as a prism allows for the refraction of light. Furthermore, according to Shakespeare’s observation, some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them. This is true for so many of us who serve out our life sentence in the ordinary. Thus, we find our salvation not in being great but being faithful.
Many of us might not feel the brilliance of Christ’s light shining out through us. After all who are we when our flame flickers under the tempest of strong temptation to sin. But, when every Christian dares to hold out the light of Christ, no matter how small, you can be sure that Jesus the Lord will shine brightly. As St Teresa of Calcutta reminds us, “It is not how much you do but how much love you put into what you do that counts”. There is a little Gospel ditty that runs through my head and I would not sing it even to save my life but “This little light of mine” surely saves the day: So, be that light of Christ that counts.
