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To desire hints of need, want, ambition or passion. These suggest that what is, is incomplete. If you like, something is missing. Even before the “Fall” this lack was not an indication of brokenness. The Book of Genesis attests to this. “God saw that it was good” is the phrase we hear at the end of every stage of creation. And though Adam appeared to have crowned God’s creation, still God felt that he would be better off with a companion, Eve.
However, Adam and Eve were not the termini of creation. There was yet a journey of stewardship to undertake. Especially after the “Fall”, life became a pilgrimage of return to God. St Augustine’s “restlessness” best describes the sojourn of Man. “O God, You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You”. One can interpret the conversation between Jesus and the crowd through the prism of this Augustinian “dis-ease”. Whereas the crowd was focussed on fulfilling what appeared to be a temporary gratification, religion recognises this “disquiet” as Man’s desire for God—a search often sabotaged by confused cravings.
Thankfully, we are not left alone in this pilgrimage. In this reach for God, the Lord instituted the Church to be our guide and through her, gave us the sacraments to assist our passage. Let us consider an important Sacrament, that is, Baptism. Through the waters of baptism, the stain of Original Sin is washed away, and through the grace of adoption, we are made a part of God’s family.
However, ingrained in our pluralistic and egalitarian setting is a certain strain of indifference[1]. Under this convention of tolerance, “almost”[2] every possibility should be regarded as equal based on a rather putative understanding that freedom[3] resides in the choices available. For example, the insistence on the baptism of infants amongst couples of different religions would be judged as arrogant. “How dare the Church regard ‘non-Christians’ as less than equal?”.[4]
Where is the Church coming from?
The answer is to be found in Eucharistic coherence.[5] We have come to accept that religion is a matter of personal “choice” because we operate under that notion, in keeping with the trend of absolute personal freedom, and in this case, of giving the infant the option to choose when he or she comes of age. But such a sentiment reveals an incoherence in the behaviour of parents.
Would the same set of parents of a child suffering from acute leukaemia believe, in the name of “freedom”, that they should wait until the child can make the decision to seek treatment? Better still, what about a child with dengue fever? In matters especially of health and education, parents routinely, without second thoughts, make decisions for their offspring. Nobody chooses to send his or her child to a mediocre school. Parents customarily seek the best medical treatment for their children. Such a practice is most visible in a child who displays musical prodigy. Immediately he or she is enrolled for musical training. What is paradoxical is when a youth of 19 years believes that he or she is called by God to priestly or religious life, he or she would be advised to go “get some experiences” before making such a decision. It is incongruous when some parents want to “delay” their children’s baptism.
Worse than incoherence, it may also reveal an unwitting selfishness. How?
Either the Eucharist is the Body of Christ, or it is no more than a token for “membership” to denote that we belong to a community of some sorts. If what we receive is truly, really and substantially the Body and Soul, Humanity and Divinity of Jesus the Lord, then a parent who consumes the Eucharist may be acting rather selfishly in denying a child the possibility of consuming the same food of eternal life.[6] Thus, in asking that children be baptised, the Church does not demand more than what she holds to be true. “The Church and the parents would deny a child the priceless grace of becoming a child of God were they not to confer Baptism shortly after birth”. (CCC 1250).
Clearly, the above illustrates that coherence is needed in our age of confusion. The encounter between Jesus and the waiting crowd became a starting point for the clarification, or the rehabilitation of their desires. It could be ours too.[7] In the remaining weeks as we continue on our Eucharistic detour, we should ponder on what the Blessed Sacrament truly is and means to us. Like the Israelites tested in the desert, the pandemic is possibly purifying our hunger. As Jesus helped the crowd to reorient their desires, He also wants to realign our compass. Despite this painful punishing pandemic with the prohibition of public Masses, may we never lose sight of the centrality of the Eucharist. In the absence of public liturgy, may our appreciation, desire and longing only deepen for Him, the Bread of Eternal Life, the only true medicine of immortality.
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[1] Possibly Pelagian since there is a denial of the supernatural order of grace believing that we merit heaven through our own effort.
[2] For now, murder is unacceptable. But consider a movie like “The Purge”. In the name of “stabilising” society, once a year, all crimes, including murder, are considered legal.
[3] The freedom which we conceive of as expressing our individuality is rather tied to the normalisation of the abnormal or the “far out”. This already sounds “judgemental”. The truth is that this has mothing to do with real freedom. Freedom must be tied to eternity. We move in freedom only when we migrate from sin to grace. But what has happened is that our sense of individuality is shaped not by freedom but is dictated by fads and fancies. What happens when our fancies take a deeper dive than we care to acknowledge? What happens when incest, for example, becomes acceptable?
[4] Even the characterisation of the “other” as “non-” would be considered to be hegemonic and therefore insulting.
[5] This is of course a hotly debated topic in another country. It would appear that stating “what was once true and accepted” is now considered to be a weaponisation of the Eucharist. Both sides of the aisle use as a point of argument, the pastoral care of the soul. On one side, to deny the Eucharist is considered to be rehabilitative because it is reminding the sinner that his soul is in peril. On the other side, it is felt that the Eucharist is not a prize for the virtuous and giving it might just help the sinner be converted—the usual shibboleth applies “Who are we to judge?”. This strand of discussion on coherence is basically centred on the subject, that is, on the worthiness of or the lack of, of the communicant. While this question may have been pivoted on whether or not one has the right to judge another person, it fails to recognise that no one is ever worthy. The consideration seems to have skipped over the objective reality. What is one receiving? Or more appropriately, “Whom am I receiving?”. Coupled with this “Whom” is His Church and what the act of reception signifies. In the stress on the subject, both sides forget that the Eucharist is a more than a symbol (in this case, rather more than “shambolic”). Holy Communion represents “concordance” with the Church’s teaching. The teaching of the Church and the reception of the Eucharist go hand in hand because when we receive It, we are assenting to the deposit of faith revealed by Christ through His Church. In other words, the Eucharist intensifies our union with the Church and all her teachings.
[6] It is inconceivable that a parent would deny the best for his or her child. If so, then the action of the parent is either selfishness OR, closer to reality, for the parent, the Blessed Host is no more than a piece of dry biscuit, an empty symbol with no salvific consequences.
[7] As illustrated in the example above, young married couples may need to make the connexion between what they believe in (lex credendi) and how they ought to live (lex vivendi).
Compassion presents a segue for our entry into the reflexion and our attention is directed to two interconnected themes—God’s generosity and our faith. We witness God’s ample generosity as the Good Shepherd who takes care of His flock. In the Book of Kings, the multiplication of loaves is reminiscent of Moses providing the hungry Israelites with manna from heaven. Here, in a time of famine, Elisha forwent his entitlement to the first fruits of the harvest, trusting that God will surely sustain His people. What Elisha’s voluntary renunciation highlights is the connexion between sacrifice, that is, in the offering of the first fruits and the worship of God.
What is offered to the priest symbolises a thanksgiving to God for His goodness. Thus, when the Elisha waived his rights to the offering, he was in rightfully and humbly taking his place in the hierarchy of worship. What he did was to allow the creature to honour the Creator. Praise belongs to God and furthermore, in this case, it befits God alone to satisfy the hunger of the people. Through Elisha, God’s compassion flowed generously as they had more than enough to eat.
This miracle is repeated in the Gospel but with a difference. Firstly, there was no famine except that food was basically beyond easy access. Secondly, the new Elisha will feed a much larger crowd using an even more limited resources. Instead of 20 barley loaves for 100, Jesus had only 5 loaves and 2 fish. And the gathered assembly numbered 5000 men, not counting women and children. While Philip may have fussed about the inadequate resources, Jesus made them sit down, thus, assuring them that they will be fed. What followed “may” prove the common dictum God cannot be outdone by our generosity. But that is not the point of the miracle. The whole idea about giving, in this case, of the boy’s fish and loaves, is never about our open-handedness, kindness or charity. Perhaps it helps explain why there is a saying that “when you give alms, you left hand must not know what your right hand is doing” (Mt 6:3). What this miracle shows is that our benevolence or altruism is giving God the space to work. In that way, generosity in extending assistance is deeply an act of worship. In offering to God what we have, God will always make up for what is lacking. Time and again, this truth is experienced in how food is more than enough whenever we are generous in sharing.
The lesson we take away is really useful for us during this pandemic. God’s providence may help us understand what is within our powers to accomplish. We are definitely challenged because our notion of generosity is premised on inadequacy and therefore, based on excess. We suffer a nagging fear that there may not be enough for us in the end, and therefore our idea of giving is based on what we have as surplus or extra. It is natural because we based our estimation on what we know or what we see. The man from Baal-shalishah considered 20 loaves as insufficient to feed that many. Andrew presented to Jesus only what he could count—merely 5 loaves and the 2 fish. This brings us into the second theme.
Faith expands what the sense of sight can perceive. When our standard of measurement is based on scarcity, we will always see a shortage of resources. The context for this Sunday 1st Reading and Gospel is the fulfilment of a basic need—nourishment. It is not the situation that our agricultural complex is incapable of producing enough food to feed 7 billion people. In fact, in some instances, our production is too efficient that farmers are paid not to plant. Thus, the pervasiveness of hunger is mind-boggling but this phenomenon can be traced to our consumption patterns in which waste has become an accepted part of how we organise life. What is worse is that pets get better treatment than humans.
This pandemic, with loss of employment on such a massive scale might give us food for thought about generosity and faith. The dreaded days of the future are already here as a sizeable population would have burnt through their meagre savings. Who would have thought that this once proud and prosperous nation would be reduced to flying the “White Flag” to draw attention to one’s dire need for ordinary daily sustenance? As the economy continues to shrink, we can be certain that a scarcity-mentality will take over as people strain to donate. On the one hand, folks want to give. But on the other hand, the nagging fear is that there might not be enough for themselves. The angst of scarcity is misplaced trust. Instead of trusting in God, we are convinced that the solution lies in our hands and not God’s. We depend too much on what we can do and too little on what God can give. In balancing, both are not mutually exclusive in the sense that man plays no role in solving the issue of hunger. We have a participatory role in alleviating human misery, particularly of chronic hunger.
But, as Pope Francis remarked, “I distrust a charity that costs nothing and does not hurt” and our grace is to finetune a balance. In terms of generosity, C.S. Lewis reminds us, “I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is give more that we can spare”. “More than we can spare” is to wade deep into the waters of faith. If gratitude makes us human, then generosity makes us divine. Generosity is a discipline of faith because it allows us to enter deeper into trusting God. The problem is when our hands are full or “grabby”, then God cannot give because we do not trust that when and what we let go, God will replenish. It is under God’s providence that faith makes present what is not available to the senses because faith sees the future now and not tomorrow. Jesus showed that 2000 years ago. The multiplication of the loaves inaugurated and made present the future Kingdom. Perhaps it now makes sense that God does what He does best when our faith is the size of a mustard seed.
We will need this faith soon enough on two levels. At a surface level, we may not be facing global famine now but the question “Where can we buy enough food to feed that many?” is relevant in a pandemic where gainful employment is lost. At a deeper level, watching Jesus the Good Shepherd feed 5000 with fish and bread, we also realise that physical nourishment is simply a prelude because there is another hunger, more fundamental, that gnaws at the human heart. Jesus came because this existential ache or thirst can only be slaked by the food and drink of eternity. We will need faith to fully appreciate that Jesus wants to feed us with His Body and His Blood so that we may live forever.
As the scourge of the “Spanish Fly”[1] continues, the 1st Reading lands on a topic which further develops the theme of last Sunday—the prophet and his oracle. Jeremiah pointed to a future identified as the Messianic age. The context was clearly God’s displeasure with the shepherds of His people. The leaders of Israel had not led the people astray as much as they had left them adrift. In other words, the sheep had been scattered, a clear hint that the system had somewhat broken down.
Perhaps the mortifying humiliation of the “Spanishflygate” can shine a light on God’s chagrin and also on today’s Gospel message. In an effort to tame this tiger of a terrible torment, the batch of leaders foisted upon a broken country is a sad reflexion of a dying man’s grip on power. In our case, the scourge of this pandemic should not be construed as God’s punishment[2] as we are trapped in a mode of governance in which plundering politicians and their patrons and proponents are keen to protect their provinces and prerogatives. We are also surrounded by commercial interests that are focused on profiting even if from human miseries.[3] And, on a larger scale, we are enveloped by an environment in which some are convinced that they have the wherewithal to mould and reshape society without reference to God. In each of these cases, a common assumption held that any voice that dared to speak against a certain orthodoxy will need to be silenced. For example, the establishment elite is “threatened” by political satire and none of them seems to recognise that at the core of power lies the principle of accountability.
Into this helplessness, the Prophet Jeremiah, in the 1st Reading, gives an assurance that God will judge the leaders; one may add, if not in this world, then in the next. We can be sure of that. But more than judgement, God promises to save His people. How wonderful to hear that the Lord Himself will shepherd His people. The days will come when God raises a virtuous Branch for David whose reign can only be true and wise. In Jesus, we have the Good Shepherd.
The day has indeed arrived. We are in the Messianic age and in the Gospel, Jesus proposes a kind of leadership for our consideration—a model of delegated stewardship. He sends the Apostles out in two and when they return, each pair gives an account of their actions. Coded into leadership are the qualities of transparency and accountability because their authority is derived from the one who gives the power. From above, power cannot be exercised in a manner authoritarian or tyrannical. From below, it is accountability. They were successful, according to their own excited retelling as they gave an account of their ministry.
We may be blessed children of the Messianic age but, sadly, we are not that different from the age of Jeremiah or the Prophets. The misery inflicted by the pandemic is testing us to the point of breaking. What aggravates our gloom is the common knowledge that many of the leaders are no better than wolves in sheep’s clothing—they only care for themselves whilst keeping the appearance of concern for the citizens. What then is left for us to do?
Apart from praying, there is a need to step up and embrace the custody of stewardship. We are servants with Christ as the model. The grace is to grow in the humility of Christ by imitating His example of ministry and service. Just this week past we marked two memorials—St Henry and St Camillus. Henry was the ruler of the Holy Roman Empire. He used his political powers for the good of the Church as well to improve the administration of his realm. St Camillus founded a Religious Order dedicated to the care of sick. In the case of St Henry, even kings must know that they rule in the name of the King. In the case of St Camillus, medicine sees Christ in the face of every sick person—healing is more than just the body. It also restores the soul.
Even though rest is necessary to rejuvenate the spirit, we still find Jesus responding to human needs at every turn—like the Good Shepherd that He is. There is a sacrificial component in the service that each baptised is called to, even to the point of laying down one’s life in the service of others. Interestingly, members of the Order of St Camillus take a 4th vow of service to the sick even at the risk of one’s own life.
The dearth of servant leadership, especially amongst our political ruling class makes the examples of Ss Henry and Camillus even more captivating. They follow the footsteps of Jesus. Like them, how can we mature in true transparency and self-effacing service especially when the situation is demanding? The dilemma is we are accustomed to measure the world calculatedly. For example, all our professional standards are derived from quantifiable performance indices. Nothing is wrong with that. But, when the Apostles got back, they spoke about their work but more than that, their sharing was about God working through them. All they did was to participate in the work of Christ, in the “opus Dei”. Thus, the measures we have are not indices even if they were important. What is central to service is to embrace the world with the Heart of Christ.
It makes sense that Jesus instructs them to leave work behind, no matter how pressing, and to search for a time and space to commune with God, the author of all good works. The context for Christ’s own withdrawal to pray is not to “separate” Himself from the people. Instead, He tapped into the Father, the source of His power and strength to heal and to restore to life those who are sick in body and soul. Jesus’ action reveals that rest belongs to the rhythm of creation. In fact, the term “recreation” is evocative because we return to the Creator in order to be renewed by Him.[4]
In rest, God is acknowledged as the Saviour. The compelling challenge we face in mitigating the wretched condition of mankind is to believe that the world is “ours” to save. A “white knight syndrome” or a “saviour complex” remains the temptation of the apostle today because he or she is engaged in a world in which God is absent, not by His choice but by our banishment. It is ironical that modernity tries to shape this Messianic age into a God-free zone. But no one, except Jesus, is the Saviour of the world. Thus, the true servant follows Him. To serve Him and to be able to see Him especially in the poor and the sick would require that we spend time with Him. To know Him is to love Him, especially in those whom we serve. Thus, the higher one is in leadership, the greater the need to connect with God. The more we desire “opus Dei”, the more we need to stay close to Him.
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[1] So chimed DS Dr Adham Baba, no less, during a book launch at a university. In reference to the present pandemic, he contrasted Covid-19 with the deadly sweep of the H1N1 influenza A virus, otherwise known as the “Spanish Flu”, which resulted in deaths estimated to be between 17-100 million (according to Wikipedia). One cannot fault leaders like him as he could have been preoccupied with raging thoughts that even a porn-star would blush if they were publicly revealed. One could be charitable. Perhaps Dr Adham was hopeful because one kills (i.e., Spanish Flu), whereas the other brings the “dead” back to life (i.e., Spanish Fly).
[2] Even though God may permit this as a purification for humanity. A statement such as this sounds truly alien to our ears because we have come to believe that God’s permissive will does not harmonise with the accepted notion of a God who is benevolent. In short, a good God cannot permit such a pestilence to afflict humanity. There is no mystery left in Him.
[3] We do not know the reasons for the rejection of the AZ vaccines manufactured in India, Japan, Korea and Thailand. If they were sub-standard, why, in the first place, were they even allowed to mass-produce them? If it were just substandard manufacturing, since this is a global pandemic, why can it not be solved by stepping up? If it is not about “prejudice”, then maybe, it is plain pure profit margin that dictates whether a vaccine is “effective/acceptable” or not.
[4] We are accustomed to thinking that God created the world in 6 days, and He rested on the 7th. It may help us appreciate “rest” better to rethink that He created the world in 7 days and that rest is part of His creation. The non-utilitarian or non-functional nature of rest allows us to recognise that God is the ground of everything. Our “Sunday obligation” conceived of as a reminder of God’s centrality, sadly, in a utilitarian mindset, has become a chore or as merely on of the “duties” we have.
We are not quite done with the person of the prophet. We have two polar figures this Sunday—Amos and Amaziah. Firstly, poles apart, they span a broad spectrum. Secondly, understanding who they are and what seems to be the disagreement between them, we may be able to sense where we fall within this continuum.
Amos was prophet from the southern Kingdom of Judah, called to preach in the northern Kingdom of Israel. At Bethel, Amos spoke against an established tolerance of exploitation—of the wealthy taking advantage of the poor. He is met with rejection from Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, who suspected Amos to be a “professional” prophet, a type renowned for its delirious conduct. Amos countered that he was merely a shepherd responding to God’s command.
Amaziah may have miscued or misjudged Amos to be an eccentric character. Oddity is not unfamiliar to us. In fact, for us, the concept of identity is very much wrapped with one’s “personality”. To a certain extent, the word suggests quirkiness—the very trait Amaziah was opposed to. Peculiarity jumps out at us because we seem to have equated eccentricity as uniqueness. The Baptist’s hair-shirt-cladding, desert-wandering and locust-eating descriptions are good examples. Our fascination may have its origin in a mindset which is rather individualistic.
When our sense of identity is egocentric, the culture will generally be personality centred. It took 2 million years for the world’s population to pass the 1 billion mark and only 200 years to explode to more than 7 billion. The point is, the Baptist, in a small and known Mediterranean world would have surely stood out. Here we are, hyper-connected, and to differentiate one from the other 7 billion inhabitants, it will definitely require a lot more distinction. We appear to have a greater need to be different.
In fact, the description “rugged” individual reeks of personality. One must be markedly unique in order to be counted or to be seen. This drive to be different frequently veers into the arena of the personality cult. The temptation is always there. An example might be helpful. In the case of a priest, just an ordinary priest, some parishioners are mesmerised that “Fr Cy can cook” or “Fr Paul can sing like Pavarotti”. When Family Day arrives, there comes the usual push to “showcase” Fr so and so’s cooking or singing skills.
What does this indicate?
While it is admirable to celebrate talents, somehow, we do not realise that a captivation with “extra-priestly prowess” may conceal an obsession with “personality”. The underlying message is that performing one’s mundane priestly duties is not good enough. One has to be a different kind of priest.[1]
Here, it might be good to clarify that it does not mean that a priest and whatever may be his “personality” are mutually exclusive and that a priest, or for the matter of speaking, a prophet should be a man of no “personality”. Many of our saints have strong charismas and are even outlandishly quirky. One can only wonder whether it was “personality” excess or religious fervour that drove St Simeon the Stylite to take up abode on top of a 60-foot column for 30 odd years.
The point is, one’s personality—“normal” or “extraordinary” should not get in the way of the service of the Lord. Perhaps the “prophetic” vocation must find its designation from the “triplex munus”, which describes the threefold mediatorial office of Jesus Christ. He is at once our Priest, our Prophet and our King. These roles that describe the person of Jesus, in an analogous way, is also the definition of every baptised faithful. Through the Sacrament of Baptism, one is enrolled into the priestly, prophetic and kingly office of Jesus Christ. Thus, the baptised is a priest who offers sacrifice to God. As a Christian, he or she is to make a sacrifice of his or her life to the Lord. The king leads by being a servant to all but is master of all the unruliness that accompanies life in a fallen world. Finally, the prophet is simply the mouthpiece of God. He draws no attention to himself except to reflect what God has intended for the world. In the “triplex munus”, one can see how the prophetic charism has less to do with oddity than with getting on in the affairs of the Lord.
In other words, the “triplex munus” expresses the central truth that God is at the centre and not the person of the prophet and much less his personality. The uniqueness of the prophet comes not from his exception or his distinction but from his calling. He is “special” because he has been set-apart by God Himself and for Himself. The prophet’s business is to point back to God. This was where Amaziah differed from Amos. Amaziah was constrained and compromised because he served the powers that be forgetting that the worship he offered was to God and not to man.
The question is, are we more Amos or Amaziah?
The question is important in light of a pandemic that panders to the paranoid even as it promotes paranoia. Look at some of photos of ordinary people donning protective gears that are well beyond what is necessary. This phenomenon expresses an inclination towards weird behaviour partly because our personality-driven mentality fosters “abnormality” disguised as the expression of individual freedom. The Christian prophets today must eschew the temptation to be uniquely different even though just by speaking about God, they will be considered “exceptional”. It is easier said than done because a prophet, by definition is counter-cultural. He stands against the flow by pointing towards God.
In this enterprise, we have not lost our imagination. Rather we suffer from the lack of it. We conceive of a future dark and dank because we may have lost the ability to divine heaven. Pleasures on earth are no longer a foretaste of the eternal. Instead, they are sought for themselves and in them, most ironically, we instinctively embrace a future that is condemned. Almost by instinct, we know the hedonism that we espouse will us lead to destruction. No wonder all our movies are that dystopian.
Therefore, the more the prophet must stand for God and a future of hope. More so in a present gripped by an anachronistically “Woke” frenzy ever ready to cancel any message which does not fit the accepted nihilistic narrative. Indeed, the prophet’s contrast or difference is definitely lonelier. The business of God is never an easy task.[2]
Furthermore, in a sensory-saturated prison, we are driven to be the first to be out there. If you are not seen, you are nobody. To a certain extent, we are driven mad by the tyranny of relevance. Hence the prophet is truly “A voice that cries in the wilderness”. He is not only to hemmed in by the desert of rejection but also condemned to the silence of a solitary existence. As a friend who calls me to mourn: “No one cares. No one loves”. Perhaps that friend of mine has failed to grasp that rejection is not a failure. It is quintessentially the success of one’s prophetic calling.
In the Gospel, what is brought to fore when faced with adversity is something which we are not at home with. It is the centrality of God’s providence. Amos was able to differentiate between the skills that he has, what he does with them and the vocation he has been called to—He was a shepherd with the vocation of a prophet. Written into one’s vocation are charisms which are to be used for one’s ministry as God’s mouthpiece. Failure to recognise this, we will land on the side of Amaziah who could not see that the gifts he had as a priest were not given for his personal gain. The question for anyone who leans towards Amaziah is “Quid in luce aeternitatis?”. “What is it (whatever is the gain) in the light of eternity?” The prophet must speak for this future where God is fully present. We definitely fall in this spectrum between Amos and Amaziah. Unlike Amaziah who was constrained and compromised by his gains in this world, Amos freed from the present was able to speak of God’s future. In the Gospel, Jesus was clear. Be light in your peregrination. Why? Because God will take care of you as He always does. Depend on Him. The prophet, like Amos, dares to stand firm because he has God as the foundation of his vocation.
BGT, or Britain’s Got Talent, a reality-TV format, has spawned a multitude of franchises throughout the world. There is no doubt that talents have been unearthed. Some international artists are fruits of this talent-showcasing arrangement. This artistes-discovering process does display an interesting facet of who we are. The more organic method of gradual unfolding of performing skills appears too slow as artistic aptitudes must now be actively discovered and cultivated.
One can assume that such a setup is more democratic. Yet, the whole exercise of talent-scouting can help us appreciate better the theme of this Sunday’s readings and Gospel. When an individual or a group walk into the centre of the stage and the camera usually pans across a gallery of faces and often it captures clearly the looks of “disbelief”. In other words, the smirks or sneers mirror a certain rejection as if some in the assembly are offended by the audacity or temerity of the contestant/s who come forward.
The rejection of the audience could suggest that the crowd does have a high standard. More likely, what the disdain illustrates is the “atomisation” that has taken place in modern society. We are that fragmented that we do not even recognise how disintegrated our social fabric has become. We would like to think that modernity has a great sense of the “community”, but “society” is merely a mirage since it is not more than individual choices cobbled together. We have become highly individualised that despite our celebrated electronic connectedness, we are still lonely. The pandemic may have disrupted this but we have been used to relocating and breaking ties with our community and the place of origin that our “identification” has been basically pragmatic and transient. Loyalty is tenuous at best because our sense of belonging is held together by a faceless and nebulous network of cyber-connexions that do not substantially satisfy our longing to be a community. For example, in Japan, the anomaly of “hikikomori” (shut-ins), meaning that youths are unable to leave their home, is an indication that social engagement is alien to this category of people.
Without the concept of a community, we have no shared world and when life is fragmented, then the need arises to “shout” our talents to the world. What makes the individual’s “projection” more effective is a sob story. For example, what appears on AGT (America’s version of BGT) can be a cancer patient’s last hurrah—to do something for herself.[1] Beyond highlighting the loneliness of an atomised existence, we are also craving for acceptance and the road to affirmation and approval usually takes us through the valley of victimhood. We have been done to and we feel that we are entitled to a better break. The world owes it to us to validate our gifts. It appears that victimhood is the choice method towards recognition and its attendant entitlement.
In a way, both BGT (or any one of its spin-offs) and the ministration of the prophets share the common angst of rejection. Indeed, what unites “then”[2] and “now” is the shared struggle of repudiation. In both cases past and present, rejection springs from the accepted convention that familiarity breeds contempt. The prophet is unable to speak because those who know him think of him in “boxed” categories. “Is He not Joseph’s son and His mother Mary?”. Performers too. The first impression counts. “Is a frump like her capable of singing like Elaine Paige?”.[3]
Unfortunately, our experience of rejection “now” is perhaps more profound. It is not a spitting contest of who suffers more—“then” or “now”. What the acuity may indicate is how atomised we have become. Thus, the difference between “then” and “now” is how the disintegration of a shared world now permeates the province of the performer and also the present-day prophet. More than loneliness, it is almost impossible to speak to a world where there is little shared assumptions.
In this era, the idea of speaking the truth and the prophet’s calling is fraught with challenges. What has developed since “then” are the phenomena of echo-chambering and cancel culture. Facebook or Twitter are fora for like-minded people, and we witness how deviation from approved narratives runs the risk of “cancellation”. But a “truth” that exists in an echo chamber is no more than a narcissistic reflexion of an atomised existence. People can no longer hear. It is not usually the case that they do not want to hear. This brings us to the next point.
It may not be the instance that we have fewer prophets. The prophet today must engage in an effort to cut through our thicket of our hearing disability. Any prophet will have the unenviable task of cultivating conditions conducive to hearing. This endeavour will take the prophet through the desert of rejection.
Rejection is part of the prophet’s resume. He or she is to be rejected. Nothing less is to be expected. While it is true that his repudiation could come from the contempt of over-familiarity, it is not personal. It is true that the audience may not like the message, but, in our atomised world, it is not the “message’s” problem. It is not even the “messenger’s” problem. Non acceptance of a prophet’s message does not come from the lack of will or desire. Or even the lack of faith. Our failure to receive comes from the lack of training. This is a generation that does not like to be challenged to excellence or nobility except perhaps we rise to the challenge of getting away with murder.[4] Since we feel that life owes it to us, how is it possible to embrace the greater good or sacrifice? Judging from the reaction in the BGTs etc, we need to be handled with kid gloves.
Secondly, our national finance is not the only deficit we face. There is also a paucity of public trust too. Our public (social or communal) relationships are that fractured to the point of disbelief. Big pharma, tech titans and deep state all contribute to this alienation of the atomised individual. If there is a common arena for all, it is the frightening space of conspiracy theories. Unsubstantiated messages that easily viral out are prime examples of this kind of brokenness.
The Christian prophet today is called to take a stand in this kind of brokenness. His or her task is to be a part of this trust rebuilding in society—repair our communal brokenness through small incremental steps that must start with himself or herself. One must be the locus for conversations founded on truth and trust. In other words, to be a prophet it must begin with me personally. Credibility is based on personal integrity and a life of transparency even if it involves rejection. If maudlin or mush is the currency for acceptance in the talent competition, for the prophet no less than truth is his or her purchase. After all is said and done, a prophet’s success is not the acceptance of the message by the audience but rather his or her faithfulness to the task. In this, we are not alone. Christ Himself told us. If they reject Me, they would reject you too. We are in good company. Like Saint Paul in the 2nd Reading, we depend on God’s grace more than on our own strength.
