3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

The 2nd Reading continues last week’s focus which was on the community. The metaphor used by St Paul to describe the Christian community was the body. “Just as a human body, though it is made up of many parts is a single unit because all these parts, though many, make one body”. Through baptism we are incorporated into the Body of Christ. [1]

However, the theme is “The Law of the Lord” as we heard in the 1st Reading. In the 1st Reading Ezra the priest solemnly read the Law of Moses to the returning exiles. As they prostrated themselves before the Lord, it was a moment of re-dedicating themselves to God and as such it became a sacred day of rejoicing. That sacred day came to its fulfilment in the Gospel when Jesus at the synagogue proclaimed the programme of the new covenant.

How is the community, that is, the body related to the new programme of the covenant, that is, the laws? They are related because laws necessarily flow from a community as the community will always make its demand on the individual. Laws are expressions of a covenantal community. In the Church, the concrete demands of the “Law of the Lord” are set down through what is called the Code of Canon Law. It is defined as a codified set of norms or procedures that spell out the rights and duties regulating the well-being of this spiritual or mystical body called the Church. Generally, Catholics are not affected by Canon Law. Specifically, the effects of Canon Law are only felt when a Catholic wants to get married. Most of the time, the laws that apply to marriage are straight-forward. But, sometimes, they are not and this is when we encounter the oft-quoted complaint: Why is the Church so rigid?

The rigidity of Church discipline or law becomes a moment of reflexion for us. Are there laws in the Church that need to be updated? Maybe there are but that is not our concern here. Our concern is rather the attitude or the response we ought to take with regard to the law. Let me elaborate what attitude we should have by speaking of contrition.

What is contrition? It is defined as the “heartfelt sorrow and aversion for the sin committed, along with the intention of sinning no more”. Contrition can be described as perfect because it is based on the love of God or imperfect when it is based on the fear of punishment or some lesser motive. Our approach to contrition can help us to appropriate the law. For many of us, our relationship with God is not based on love but rather it is based on fear. So, in terms of contrition, this means that we often do all we can to avoid hell.

Sadly, when we do all we can to avoid hell the consequence is the law will become duty and therefore an imposition or an obligation. The response to an imposition is often calculative. The best example of this attitude is the elder brother in the Prodigal Son story. His retort to the father was: "Have I not slaved all these years for you?" He was a dutiful son. Whilst being dutiful is commendable, it often leads to resentment. Those of you who have to take care of your ageing parents because your siblings have shirked their responsibilities know what this means. The same goes for parents. You have worked hard and the test comes when your son or daughter does something you consider to be illogical—like choosing a career which he likes but to you, it does not have a future or when the choice of your daughter’s life partner does not meet your approval. A common reaction can be: “Do you know how much I have sacrificed for you?" Does this sound familiar? When we approach life dutifully we often end up just fulfilling our bargain; calculating how little is needed in order to fulfil what is required. As stated above, duty is not bad but it may lead to resentment. In marriage it is often like that. One of the spouses is dutiful and the other takes advantage. Here I am not advocating turning the other cheek or accepting the status quo. What I am saying is that when fulfilling our duty is our approach, then watch where the anger, hatred, resentment come from.

On the other hand, perfect contrition is based on love and devotion. This is how our relationship with God should be as we aspire or go forward in such a way that the question to ask is not “Do you know how much I have slaved for you?” but “Is there more that I can do?" It was love that drove the Psalmist to cry out “The law of the Lord is perfect”. The basis of St Ignatius’ motto “ad maiorem dei gloriam” is this: “what more can I do, my God whom I love above all else”. It is in this context that laws or the covenant become liberating rather than enslaving. As long as we seek to fulfil the minimum requirement, we tend towards legalism like the Pharisees. But when we seek to do more than what is required, then our attitude towards the law will become moral. We will not stop at the minimum requirement of the law. And this is where we enter the terrain of sanctity or holiness, the territory of excellence and valley of suffering and loneliness and the feeling of being stupid because nobody shares your passion. This commensurate with who we are: Imago Dei. The image of God and the highest of all God’s creation.

Our guide is no longer the minimum requirement of the law but rather the moral compass of what is right and good. It becomes the freedom to embrace God’s will, no matter how difficult it may be.

In summary, as long as there is a community and because we are social and political beings, there exists the inevitability of the law. The demands of the law can be a source of tension because the temptation is for the individual to go at it alone, to live outside the demands of the community. Our approach to the demands of the community must be more than a dutiful response because the new covenant of Jesus in the Gospel is marked by love and that covenant can only be fulfilled if we dare to love. Duty can only take us this far. Devotion brings us to do more in order that the Good News will not just be news but good news of salvation. If we want to advance along the path of holiness, then our conversion must be from duty to devotion.

FOOTNOTE:
[1] Even though the word sounds a bit too “corporate”, in Latin, it actually points to the body and so, baptism draws us into the Body of Christ.

6th Sunday of Easter Year B

The theme of this Sunday’s gospel is on the familiar subject of love. However, the first reading sets this love which Jesus invites us to in the context of community expansion. The Christian community hitherto had primarily been made up of Jewish converts. However, Cornelius represents the opening of the Church to the gentile world. His baptism highlights the universality of God’s salvation. Salvation is no longer restricted to a particular race but is available to all people.

Therefore, we are to love the world and in loving (the world) bring the salvation of God to the ends of the world. In the days of old, this was a straightforward process. God’s saving love was interpreted in terms of making available the grace of baptism. Thus, missionaries blazed across the known world bringing with them the bible on the one hand and baptising on the other. In fact, our very own St Francis Xavier was reputed to have baptised 10000 people in Southern India within a period of two months in 1544.

However, these days, the process has become a little more complicated. We now have a greater respect for diversity and we generously embrace tolerance and inclusion. The result is that some people are given the impression that every religion is the same and baptism is not necessary.

This is where we are challenged. In loving the world, in mediating God’s saving love, the Church has to hold firm to the belief that baptism is still the ordinary means of salvation. She cannot, if She wants to be faithful, ignore the last command given by Her Lord and Saviour before His Ascension: Go, baptise all nations in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. And, this is the crux of our challenge. Whilst the effect is the same for what we termed as the ordinary and the extraordinary means of salvation, that is, the effect is the same whether God saves ordinarily or out of the ordinary [1], the difference between them is a minefield for the Church. When God saves, He saves and it does not matter how because the effect of His salvation is the same, that is, we are saved. The minefield is this: We accept that God’s saving love is intended for all. We accept diversity. On the one hand, we like to think of ourselves as enlightened liberals and it is far easier to think that God’s vision is larger than our narrow understanding of salvation and that He can save however He wants. But, on the other hand, according to the Catechism,

[T]he Church does not know of any means other than baptism that assures entry into eternal beatitude; this is why she takes care not to neglect the mission she has received from the Lord to see that all who can be baptised are "reborn of water and the Spirit" [CCC #1257]. [2]

You begin to understand the difficulty or the tension involved—if God can save, why the necessity of baptism.

I think we excuse our failure at bringing the Gospel of salvation to people everywhere by saying that God is a far greater Lover than we are capable of being the good news. Thus, the question remains that if we are to remain faithful to Christ, how are we to propose the ordinary means of salvation to people whom we meet? The answer is through love as in the Gospel today.

And it is often that Christians fail at the task of loving as Christ loved us. Wasn’t it Gandhi who said that he believed in Jesus but he did not believe in Christians? The word “Crusade” itself is a reminder of much suffering brought about by Christians. In the name of God, the crusaders set out to free the Christian land from non-Christian control. In the process of doing God a favour, Christians poison the wells of their enemies. Is there any wonder why Christian—Muslim relationship is such a delicate issue? One of the Crusades even deviated from its original goal that instead of setting free the Holy Land, it plundered Constantinople which is present day Istanbul. Is it any wonder why the Orthodox Churches are suspicious about our Latin Rite Church?

The point is not to pass judgement upon generations past as if we were such saints but to note that we often have done a great disservice to the message of the Gospel through our behaviour. The disservice is when we preach the Gospel of love but fail to live that love. Each time when a person leaves the Church scratching someone’s car but driving away quietly; when a person is rude to the Hospitality Ministers who are trying to perform a duty, the person has made the Church poorer in the esteem of the world and made the Christian message a little more difficult to accept. I was reflecting about this and realised how often I myself have been such a poor excuse of a witness to this saving love of God. I feel like a hypocrite when I was thinking of these examples because my life itself is a sorry excuse for poor Christianity.

The Gospel message, however, does not call us to a generic. It is easy to love everyone because it does not require any commitment. Perhaps, we have been preaching the wrong thing, that is, we’ve been preaching “love one another" in a generic sense. The message of Christian love is lost in the generic.

But, say you live with a person who behaves outside the boundary of rationality or accepted norms of behaviour. How do you deal with that? Thus, the Gospel of love becomes real because “a man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends”. We all marvel at Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. She was the epitome of what it meant to love because her love stretched out to all and that seemed to be generic enough. But really, she was able to do that simply because she must have taken to heart the Gospel injunction to lay down her life for a friend. She embraced the leper on the street because she saw in him none other than Christ Himself. Only when a Christian believes that there is someone worth dying for, will that Christian truly know the meaning of "love one another". It is a great price to be paid. The Greek word "martyr" means witness and from the time of the Apostles until now, whoever witnesses to the Gospel must be prepared to die for it. The world is not convinced by Christianity not because it’s not true but because our love is not convincing enough. Like Light FM, we have been fed on a diet of “light” Christianity, abandoning our conviction at the slightest inconvenience.

So, brothers and sisters, true love requires a readiness to die for the Gospel. Are you prepared? I know I hesitate and fail often and that is why the Eucharist is so important. St Maximillian Kolbe did not sit in his cell eagerly waiting for the moment to die for the Gospel. He stepped up when that crucial moment called for it and I believe the Eucharist he had celebrated and the Holy Communion he had received must have given him the necessary grace to stand up for the Gospel. So, let us ask God for this grace in the same Eucharist that gave both Blessed Teresa and St Maximillian Kolbe the courage to love as Christ Himself did.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] We need to allow for God to save extraordinarily, that is, God to save out of the ordinary, because baptism, as a means of salvation, is not always available to people everywhere. It means that a God who offers salvation to all cannot, in justice, condemn those who through no fault of theirs, are not privileged to be baptised
[2] God has bound salvation to the sacrament of baptism, but He Himself is not bound by His sacraments. This is the meaning of God saving extraordinarily.

Pentecost Year A

Last Sunday, my homily brought out the link between the Eucharist and “communion”. The Eucharist expresses and deepens our communion with the Church. This communion with the Church is both invisible and visible. It is invisible because it expresses a unity with the Blessed Trinity and presupposes a life of grace. Every Catholic who wants to receive communion must ensure that he or she receives it in a worthy manner. Thus, there is a link between communion and the sacrament of confession. Even though this relationship between communion and conversion is a matter of one’s conscience, a matter between the person and God, still, the Church has the duty to see that those who manifestly refuse to repent should not be given communion.

The reality that there are less than perfect situations, for example, “excommunication”, actually highlights the visible aspect of communion with the Church which is expressed through the 3 Cs: Creed, Code and Cult. Visible communion with the Church means that one accepts Catholic doctrines, is subject to the Church’s governance and receives the Church’s sacraments. The phrase that best describes this visible communion with the Church is none other than “practising Catholic”.

As a Sacrament of Ecclesial communion, the Eucharist has implications for our ecumenical activities. Since the unity of the Catholic Church with the other ecclesial communities is far from perfect, the Catholic Church is cautious in the matter of intercommunion. Why? Even though we desire visible unity, to short-cut the long and winding road to unity is to pretend that we are one when we are not. Our commitment to the truth cannot allow this kind of falsehood. John Paul II concludes by saying that our observance of the norms governing the reception of Holy Communion is proof and guarantee of our love for (1) Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, (2) for our Protestant brothers and sisters who have a right to our witness to the truth and (3) it shows our love for the cause of unity.

This week, our attention is directed by JPII to the dignity that must accompany our celebration of the Eucharist. With regard to “how much”, we are haunted by an account recorded in the Gospels. As Mary, the sister of Lazarus anointed Christ’s head, Judas asked a question that has echoed throughout the centuries. The enduring question deals with what is ostentatious in the midst of hunger. To be extravagant is a scandal when people are hungry. The usual argument is that God is not bothered by ostentatious showings.

The idea that money is better used for the poor is noble. But, underlying this noble idea is perhaps a mode of thinking which is deceptively calculative and thus, it has far-reaching consequences. An example of calculative thinking is “Euthanasia” (good death). How so? It claims to give a dying person a sense of control over suffering and pain. No one should suffer unnecessarily. But, noble as that may sound, in reality, Euthanasia is a consideration of convenience. [1] We measure the world according to the scale of convenience. [2] But, God is of another world. Pentecost is a reminder of the other realm that we are made for. As much as the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles, the Apostles and thus the Church are drawn up into God. It is only when I am prepared to love God with a measure beyond this world, then I would also be prepared to love you with the same measure. The Sacrifice of Christ must be seen in this light. The idea is not how much money we can save for the poor but rather how much are we ready to do for God. [3] In this respect, JPII reminds us that the honour given to Christ in the Eucharist is tied closely to the mystery of His Person. We are not dealing with just an ordinary man. The way the Last Supper accounts were presented in the Gospels shows how even at an early period, care was given to the celebration of the Eucharist. [4] That’s why JPII declares that the Church fears no extravagance because the expression of her extravagance is directed to God. [5]

We could never do enough for God. Jesus may have been born in a manger. But, His poverty is a revelation of His humility whereas the Wise Men who visited Jesus did not come with poor things. Instead, they came with gold, frankincense and myrrh. What they gave Jesus showed their humility—a humility which says that no matter what we do, we can never outdo the majestic God humbling Himself to become one of us.

Because of the majesty of Christ’s gesture, the Church does not make light or trivialise the Eucharist of her Lord and Master. In fact, if we follow the definition “sacrament”, outward sign of inward grace, then the liturgy—the outward expressions must be adorned and elevated by the use of beautiful things. Icons embody the abiding presence of holiness. Statues are visible reminders of our communion with the saints who are models for our living. Stained glasses bring to life the Gospel and they catechise in pictures. Gregorian chants transport us into a realm beyond the ordinary. [6] The Gothic cathedrals were imposing structures simply because their spires piercing into the sky actually accompany our soaring aspirations for God.

Here we begin to realise that not everything is suitable for the worship of God.[7] It calls for discernment. The word “cacophony” may help us understand what it means to be discerning. Cacophony means harsh discordant mixture of sounds but in Greek, it’s even more graphic because it is derived from “kakka”... meaning faeces or crap. So cacophony means “shitty” sound. [Sorry]. Not every sound is good for our Liturgy. [8]

Thus, JPII proposes a very important ecclesiological principle for discernment. And it is this: the local Church does not exist in isolation from the Universal Church. For example, we belong to the Latin Rite of the Catholic Church and all things being equal, Gregorian chants as being proper to the Roman Liturgy, must hold a pride of place in our Liturgy. The universal character of the Church must be taken into consideration in our process of inculturation or adaptation. In dealing with adaptation, “formality” is sometimes viewed as stifling creativity. In actual fact, formality does not stifle creativity. It prevents impulsiveness and it protects the lay people from the tyrannical whims and fancies of a priest.

In conclusion, nothing that we do can ever outdo what God has done for us. This is the principle for which we try to give God our very best and this is important if we want to address Judas’ concern for the poor. [9] I was at the Archdiocesan Pastoral Assembly yesterday. Our topic was the challenge of ministering to our migrant brothers and sisters. At the end of the meeting the suggestions came in fast and thick: we should organise this, we should produce this or that, etc. in order to educate and encourage our people to be involved in social justice issues. I thought to myself, our parish has so many programmes and yet why is our response at best lukewarm? It dawned on me that the measure of my love for God will be the measure of my love for the world. Not the other way around. How so? One of the Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion was overheard saying, “How come you pay your maids so well? They don’t deserve such salary. They will climb over your head”. There is a saying that “familiarity breeds contempt”. In the case of our Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion, it is not familiarity but the statement betrays a lack of familiarity. [10] How could anyone who gives Jesus in Holy Communion think this way? Obviously she does not know Jesus enough. Appropriately, JPII used the word “extravagance” for our expressions towards the Eucharist because it stands as an antidote to Judas’ calculative thinking or mentality. To love Jesus is to love the world. To give Jesus the best is to give the world our best. The saints already knew this... May we imitate them in giving their best to Jesus in order to love the world.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] Sometimes, the “suffering” of a patient is acute because it is a reflexion of society’s lack of tolerance for suffering. Think about it. How come people from Third World countries seem to be able to tolerate pain? They are stoical about pain whereas, the more affluent we are, the more intolerant of pain we become and this intolerance may be transmitted as an expectation on those who are suffering... “We actually don’t want you to be around to remind us of pain. So we’ll help you die faster”. Likewise, why is it that “older” people of our generation don’t want to be a nuisance to their children? Is it because we, the “able-bodied” younger generation, have subtly sent a signal that they are a nuisance—a cramp to our lifestyle?
[2] This scale of convenience is also discernible in the relationship between man and woman in marriage.
[3] In fact, the liturgy tells us that there is “Someone” who is worth dying for. Without this “Someone”, I will love you with a measure of this world; a measure “choked” by convenience. But, if love for God is measured other-worldly, then our liturgy must reflect that. Thus, in the context of Judas’ concern for the world, the point is, if you want to save the world or feed the poor, make sure the liturgy remains dignified, sacred and solemn because true worship of God is the only thing that can save the world.
[4] Jesus asked his disciples to go into town to prepare the place for their celebration of the Last Supper.
[5] A way to understand the measure of our extravagance is to look at our sanction or deterrent for a crime. (An interesting aside: for the Church, sanction is not punitive but rather rehabilitative). For example, in the case of rape, the “extent” that we are prepared to impose sanction is the extent we are ready to defend a value. In the case of rape, it is the dignity of the victim. Today, we are harsh when it comes to crime against children because the value of a child’s dignity cannot be measured. (The contradiction that we experience though, is abortion. For many countries, abortion is just a statistic. But, in more affluent countries, the medical fraternity would go to length in order to save a single person. These two approaches to life do not commensurate!). The point is, if we believe that God is the Almighty, then, we must be solemn and noble in our worship. But, the sad truth is, a loss of solemnity is indicative of the loss of faith in the Real Presence, in the sacrificial nature of the Eucharist and also in the spiritual authority of the priestly office. If we truly believe in Jesus’ Real Presence... our attitude would be totally different.
[6] It is true that there is something about music which can be described as “classical” and therefore enduring. For example, according to music enthusiasts, the late 80s and the early 90s could be written off from the era of modern music. It seemed that nothing of value came from that period of “Muzart and synthesised techno-music”.
[7] In our world of political correctness, we are sometimes mistaken by the consideration that just because something is available, then it can be used.
[8] It’s like saying “I love you” but slapping you to proof that I love you. It’s not logical because clearly, some actions are not actions of love but rather actions devoid of love. This suggests the need for discernment and it is important because it touches the whole process of inculturation.
[9] Thinking of the poor may be noble but it could also be a gesture to God that we think nothing of Him.
[10] I wager that Judas asked the question simply not because he cared that much for the poor but because he didn’t know Jesus enough.

Triduum Part 3: Feast of St. Francis Xavier

I shall begin by re-capping the gist of what I preached about on Saturday and yesterday. On Saturday, I pointed out that we encounter shameful un-Christ-like behaviour amongst Catholics because the grace of the Gospel has not really penetrated their hearts. This experience is the result of a disjuncture or rupture between the head and the heart. Advent or even Lent is the period where we make a conscious decision and also desire to attempt the re-connexion of the head and the heart so that there is a greater consistency between what we profess and how we act. Otherwise, we risk a schizophrenic existence as exemplified in a saying of the Oirish: Paddy went to Mass and he never missed a Sunday. But Paddy went to hell, for what he did on Monday.

In the 2nd instalment of the Triduum, I spoke about healing the disjuncture or rupture between the head and the heart—between belief and action. I said that the healing of the rupture takes place once we begin to reconcile the relationship between love and duty.

Otherwise, duty will always be considered an imposition which we tolerate at best or resent at worst. The reconciliation between love and duty takes place when we begin to acknowledge that duty does not lead to love but rather love frees us to embrace duty. But, unfortunately, love is associated with feelings or emotions. Love in its truer sense is more a matter of the will as it takes us out of ourselves in order to focus upon the beloved. This is where many of us hesitate because it would mean that we lose control and may be at the losing end of the equation. When we love, we are vulnerable—like the Son of God was.

Only when we dare to put ourselves at the losing end, believing that in love, there is no loss, then will we begin to look upon duty in a new light. "Parish in love, Parish alive" was an example of duty in a new light.

We deliberately promoted the service of the community from the perspective of loving that leads to service or rather, loving that leads to loving service, avoiding the “guilt of having to serve”.

In trying to make the connexion between the head and the heart we enter into the territory of love, the territory of vulnerability. In order to do so, we begin to see how the Eucharist is important and how the adoration before the Blessed Sacrament becomes an extension of the Eucharist we celebrate. It is when we have fallen in love with Him that everything else falls into place. It is not rules and regulations that bind a people together. It is love that allows us to embrace duties enjoined upon us. But first, we must dare to love, dare to fall in love with Christ so that in Him, we will begin to love all our neighbours. Only in this sense, will we be able to bear with our vulnerability.

This is where the 3rd instalment comes in. Let me draw together a few themes to make sense of the celebration this evening: vulnerability and the building of a community. The Gospel speaks clearly of the need to evangelise the world. Our application of the Gospel is nuanced in this respect. We are in the business of evangelisation through a dialogue of life. Therefore the BECs are our expressions of this dialogue of life.

Everything that we do is geared towards animating the BECs. Even the parish groups must serve the BECs, in line with the vision of the Catholic Church in Peninsular Malaysia. When we animate, vulnerability is involved because people are not just “duties” to be performed. Animating the BECs also means that we are in need of love and of friendship. Otherwise, everyone in the BEC or in the Parish has a solution to a “problem” (in inverted commas) or a need that nobody wants to admit—our search for acceptance, friendship and love.

The Society of Jesus is good at organising because we are methodical and our training gears us in that direction. Saying that is not a statement of “hubris” or pride but of fact. The movie shown on Saturday, “the Mission” was proof of the Society’s capacity to organise. In a sense the parish reflects this strength of the Society. And yet, the strength of the Society is also her weakness. When we organise, we enter into “dutiful” relationships—we become utilitarian in the way we deal with one another. Often we become functional in our relationships. In a sense, functional relationships are easier to deal with. They are cleaner and more professional and less “personal” because personal is often fraught with vulnerability. We are afraid to spend time together. We are afraid that people might take advantage of us.

If you reflect upon it, being dutiful could also be a sign of a lack of trust in God. There is a saying attributed to St Ignatius who says that we should pray as if everything depends on God and work as if everything depends on us. The “organisational” mode makes us depend more upon ourselves rather than upon God. Now you know why I keep pointing towards the tabernacle. In a society that prizes achievement, we build our credibility or our self-esteem upon what we can achieve. The BECs can become the crowning glory of what we can do and not what God can do for us.

I am not justifying what we do here. I am giving a platform for God to work. We want to do great things for God. Yet, we forget that God has a greater role to play. Playing (lepak, doing nothing, enjoying each other’s company) is a form of trust in God. Remember how Jesus after his desert experience, went to Simon Peter’s house. He had already chosen his fishers of men. There was the mission ahead but the first thing he did was to take time off to be with the mother-in-law of Peter. In the bigger schema of things, the mother-in-law wasn’t the most important thing because the bigger schema of things should be “numbers”. The mother-in-law of Peter was not just duty for Jesus.

Brothers and sisters, I shall end with this song which we sing. “Brothers let me be your servant. Let me be as Christ to you. Pray that I may have the courage to let you be my servant too”. If we are an organisational, or a "head" people, we hear the first part of the song better because it fits with a “dutiful” mode of being: Let me be your servant. But it takes a lot more heart, a lot more vulnerability and a lot more trust in God to let you be my servant too.

On this Feast of St Francis Xavier, let us remember that as he traipsed and trudged the trenches of Asia, he missionary vision was powered also by his heart. He always carried with him the cut-out names of his Jesuit Brothers close to his heart. It was love for Christ, fleshed out in the love for his brothers that gave him the strength to embrace the duty enjoined upon him. May that grace be ours as well.

Triduum Part 2: 1st Sunday of Advent Year A

Yesterday we celebrated the First Day of the Triduum. For those who were not here yesterday, let me re-cap the gist or the general substance of what I said. First, I mentioned the experience of being surprised by “un-Christ-like” behaviour of Catholics. This experience shows that the grace of the Gospel has not yet penetrated the hearts of Catholics. This very experience is the result of a disjuncture or rupture between the head and the heart. There is a lack of connexion between the head and the heart. Advent or even Lent is the period where we make a conscious decision and also desire to attempt the re-connexion of the head and the heart as we grow in greater consistency so that what we profess will animate our actions and our actions will confirm our beliefs. If not, this lack of connexion will result in a schizophrenic existence as exemplified in a saying of the Irish: Paddy went to Mass and he never missed a Sunday. But Paddy went to hell, for what he did on Monday.
That was where I ended yesterday.

In this 2nd instalment of the Triduum, I shall begin by asking how we can heal this disjuncture or rupture between the head and the heart—between belief and action. The healing of the rupture may take place once we begin to reconcile the relationship between love and duty.

For many of us, life consists of a series of duties simply because duties are often enjoined upon us. For example, when we get married, we acquire the duties of being a spouse and later, when the children arrive, of being a parent. When our parents are aged, we have the duties of caring for them. Then there are the duties of our vocation, profession, or society or culture etc.

There are times in life when we impose upon ourselves the duties which nobody else wants to shoulder. There could be many reasons for doing so. But, the complication with being dutiful is that it can lead to resentment. How often have we become resentful because we have to care for our aged parents, stayed at home because our parents are conservative, married a person out of duty, study because our parents have indicated the course we should sign up for in college, head an unwanted project or lead a BEC because nobody else wanted to?

I mentioned about the reconciliation of the relationship between love and duty and it begins by prioritising them. The relationship between love and duty is this: Duty does not lead to love. It is love which leads to duty. Hence, the resentment when we have to be dutiful. Remember the Prodigal Son? Remember the Elder Son? “I have slaved for you”, (I have been dutiful to a fault) he complained to his father as he resented his father’s “gentle” treatment of the “prodigal brother” who came back penniless? When an altar server has lost the love of serving, he will resent the schedule being imposed onto him. The dilemma with love or being loving is that some of us may mistake love to be an emotion. But it is of the will as exemplified by the saying that “love seeks the good of the beloved”. It is more a verb (an action or a working thing) than a feeling because love has a direction [often a direction that takes us out of ourselves]. However, the direction that love takes is where many of us do not want to go.

When we love, we actually place ourselves into the hands of the other. We think less of ourselves and more of the other [love seeks the good of the beloved]. It means that the calculation is loaded on the other side and not on our side. When we do that, we expose ourselves to vulnerability. We naturally do not like to be vulnerable. For example, “What if the other person does not respond”? I have wasted my effort, I am embarrassed etc. More than ever, since we all have this kiasu mentality, (afraid to be on the losing end), we want to be in control. That’s why we are afraid to love because we don’t want to be on the losing end. Nobody likes to be a loser. Nobody likes a loser. In a sense, being dutiful is also about being in control, being calculative. Like the elder son in the same story. He can tell the Father: I have done this already as part of my duty. Don’t expect anymore… [Love allows us to deal with the more without the resentment].

Only when we dare to put ourselves on the losing end, believing that in love, there is no loss, then will we begin to look upon duty in a new light. Christ is able to put himself into our hands only because he was in love with his Father. In love duty is embraced, not imposed. Now, you begin to see why we do things in a certain way here. Remember a couple of months before when we had this promotion, "Parish in love, Parish alive".

We deliberately promoted the service of the community from the perspective of loving that leads to service or rather, loving that leads to loving service. We wanted to avoid the guilt of “duty”. In some ways, I feel that the failure of the BEC is because we had “forced” people to come. Even Sunday as a day of obligation is a sad testimony that religion has become duty rather than as a result of love. I suspect that there is a certain guilt trip that arises when we promote the BEC as a duty.

Perhaps, in trying to make the connexion between the head and the heart, we also begin to put our priorities right. It is time to learn to love, better still, to embrace vulnerability. BECs may have to die. Parish groups may have to die. Congregation may have to die… I mean be decimated in numbers…

Now, can you see now why the adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is important? Constantly, we must focus on falling in love with Christ our Lord. It is when we have fallen in love with Him that everything else falls into place. It is not rules and regulations that bind a people together. It is love that allows us to embrace duties enjoined upon us. But first, we must dare to love, dare to fall in love with God so that in Him, we will begin to love all our neighbours. Only in this sense, will we be able to bear with our vulnerability. Otherwise, what we have will be position-taking!!

And for that, tomorrow is the 3rd instalment…

Triduum Part 1: 1st Sunday of Advent Year A

About a week ago, someone was trying to park his car and in the process damaged another. When the “offender” was confronted, instead of apologising, the person acted the maxim that the best defence was an offence. So, the guilty party turned aggressive and drove off without an apology. The owner of the car was upset and asked why Catholics behaved in such an un-Christ-like manner. Are you surprised by such behaviour?

I am not. Such unchristian behaviour was also prevalent or common during the time of St Francis Xavier. You might be wondering why mention SFX since this is the 1st Sunday of Advent. It is the Triduum of SFX which we begin today (Saturday), tomorrow and Monday. The good thing is that the readings actually help to draw together SFX and the 1st Sunday of Advent. The readings point towards the future coming. But this future coming is not principally focused upon the future as it is upon how we can make the future present. The future is described in the first reading as the “mountain of the Temple of the Lord where people gravitate to and where God may teach us his ways etc”. This future can be realised and in a measure attained through the process of moving into the light. St Paul says to the Romans: The night is almost over, it will be daylight soon—let us give up all the things we prefer to do under the cover of the dark; let us arm ourselves and appear in the light. Let us live decently as people do in the daytime: no drunken orgies, no promiscuity or licentiousness, and no wrangling or jealousy.

During the time of St Francis in Malacca, he encountered such licentiousness. He was rather disgusted by the behaviour of his countrymen. The focus of his disgust was neither the “licentiousness” nor the “drunken orgies” but rather an exasperation that the grace of the Gospel had not penetrated the souls of those who were baptised, beginning most of all, with the Portuguese. We are no different. In general, there is a certain attempt to make our lives coherent. Regrettably, for many the coherence is only skin deep. We too suffer like the Portuguese from the Gospel not penetrating our hearts.

This is what Advent and also Lent are for. Advent is the period of preparation for Christ’s coming. Christ came 2000 years ago. We remember or commemorate that on Christmas. We also await Christ’s 2nd coming. Again, we anticipate that through Christmas. Set in the midst of remembering and anticipating is the possibility of making the future present here and now. Advent allows the Gospel to take flesh in our hearts. This is what we mean by Christ coming into our hearts at Christmas. [Christmas isn’t Christmas till it happens in your heart].

Earlier I mentioned about this business of being unchristian. Actually unchristian behaviour is too simple a category because we have not paid sufficient attention to a particular disjuncture, a break in the lives of many of us. This disjuncture is more than just a lack of correspondence or a lack of consistency. The description of the experience of St Francis in Malacca as the grace of the Gospel not penetrating the heart can be defined as a disjuncture between the head and the heart or a lack of connexion between the head and the heart.

There must be a head and heart connexion in order that what we believe illuminates what we do and what we do concretises or enfleshes what we believe. If not, we continue to have Catholics who come to Church simply because they have to and not really because they want to. It also explains why Catholics can “gostan” (reverse) into your car, break your light and then quickly drive off without even a note or a word of apology. My experience has been that there were so many times when I wanted to walk out of a funeral or wedding mass simply because we have Catholics desiring the sacraments without knowing why. Big disjuncture. They want a wedding mass but have no idea why they are there and when the mass goes on, they are doing all the stupid things and at the point of consecration, they are not even reverential. It makes a mockery of what is being done at the altar. There is no connexion between what they profess and how they act.

Today on the First Day of our Triduum and the First Sunday of Advent, let us take the opportunity to make the head-heart connexion. Penitence is not just about sorrow for sin. It also calls for a deeper reflexion where we begin to see where our beliefs have not informed our actions. Or how our actions contradict what we profess. Otherwise, we will live in two different worlds with such a dire consequence as my favourite Irish saying goes: Paddy went to Mass and he never missed a Sunday. But Paddy went to hell, for what he did on Monday.