26th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

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

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

We are not unlike to the Apostles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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