7th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C 2022

We continue with Jesus’ teaching from last Sunday. From blessings and woes, we delve deeper into the heart of Jesus’ teaching—He establishes a new law to shape the new person. The mould of this re-creation is found in the 2nd Reading where St Paul speaks of Jesus Christ as the New Adam.

This new covenant is grounded on love. But what is love? Our definition of love is pretty much clouded by emotions. Our idea of love is rather permissive and it may have lost its meaning. Hence, to appreciate the commandment of Christ, we need to situate it within the context of being hurt or humiliated, maligned or mistreated, robbed or raped and the list goes on. Our reaction towards a person who has hurt us is almost always visceral. Deep within our being there is revulsion and a perception that whatever wrong had been committed cannot be forgiven. Therefore, love your enemy is not easy in any of these contexts. Do we want to return blessing for a curse? Or turn our cheek when we are slapped? Or give even if we know the recipient is cheating us? Perhaps, these are rather extreme examples. What about queue-cutters who drive up to the front of the jam and then cut into your lane?

Where the situation is clearly biased, unjust or unfair, do we retaliate and get even? Or do we give in and run away? Are these the only options available to us? On the one hand, getting even or reacting along the line of "lex talionis" may escalate an already bad situation resulting in further destruction to everyone involved. On the other hand, running away will only fester resentment and for some, they tend to take out their frustration on other, especially those weaker than them. This is more common than we realise. For example, spouses are known to withhold their affection or snap at their loved ones because they bring home their anger at work.

We realise that both these options, either revenge or retreat, do not assuage or appease the unpleasantness experienced from the original offence. In other words, we are left feeling empty. Revenge may appear sweet prior to its execution but once we have exacted it, we are left to deal with the sour taste of a wound unhealed. If not, we quietly recede from the scene. With exaggerated autonomy, we picture ourselves as self-made. As a result, this self-definition will certainly chafe at any perceived injustice. The earlier example of letting in a queue-cutter surely sends the wrong message that we are weak or we can be walked over. In short, we are losers.

The option proposed by Christ does not solve the problem of incompleteness. However it does allow us to take a longer look. At the heart of Christ’s teaching, the question must be asked: “How far does eternity go for us”? In an age of disbelief[1], not unbelief, we struggle to believe in the Resurrection. It is difficult to conceive that there is life after death. The miracle of the raising of Lazarus provides an insight into what death truly is and its place in our lives. In this familiar story, the Lord was 3 days late. But, say if the Lord managed to heal Lazarus before he died, what would the implication be? The cure did not mean that Lazarus would not die. A cure is merely a deferment of death, putting it off until a later time which implies that whatever we may do to stave it off, one day we will die. Death is the necessary door that opens us to the Resurrection.

Isaiah the prophet never preached about the Resurrection but he might as well did so. He said that authentic justice and salvation are found in God alone. This is not an abdication of our duty to seek legal redress or look for a solution. What the Prophet simply affirmed was the unpalatable truth and a sobering reminder that on this side of death we are not guaranteed full resolution and satisfaction for our efforts in trying to right the wrongs. Therefore, the ability to stand apart from either revenge or retreat requires a firm belief in the Resurrection.

Faith in the Resurrection allows us to put up with the dissatisfaction of an unresolved hurt or the emptiness brought about by an untimely demise. More importantly, it gives us strength to love. For love is a matter of willing and it follows that there will be sacrifice when love is true. If it were just mainly emotion, then decisions taken will depend on how we feel. True love goes beyond how one feels. A good example is a parent who despite his or her illness, gets up in the morning and goes about the duties. Love pushes a person to be greater and better than he or she is

However, for that sacrificial love to go further it needs an assurance. Without the certainty of faith that God is just and merciful, if not in this world, then in the next, we will always be sickened by glaring gross injustice. We will find ourselves loving reluctantly or resentfully. Sadly, our therapeutic society seeks to solve all problems before death. When we are unable to find justice, we either flare up in anger or we withdraw into despair in the face of flagrant disregard for the simple demand of decency.[2]

The love which Christ invites us to embrace does not exclude “therapy”. It is not a fatalistic resignation. Maybe our notion of love is more selfish than selfless love. Nevertheless, self-love is important in the commandment proposed by Christ. One cannot give when one is empty. Thus, self-care is part and parcel of self-love. To be present to others, to give to others, to serve others, we need a little bit of space for ourselves. Jesus Himself stole away from the pressing crowd in order to be available to their incessant demands. We receive from God in order to give. That is basic to the Christian vocation.

Jesus’ teaching can either be painful or liberating. We may be sons of Adam, but through Baptism, we have become the brothers and sisters of the new or second Adam, Jesus Christ. Humanly, the ideal given by Jesus is hard to live by. But since Christ gave it as man, He must know that it is possible for man to live it. He showed it on Calvary. Jesus calls us to a love which He Himself has embraced. “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing”.


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[1] Disbelief shows an unwillingness, unpreparedness or an inability to believe. Unbelief concerns the absence or rejection of belief.

[2] Even though right is right and wrong is wrong and at the very least what is right should be rewarded and what is wrong should be punished, our political geography provides ample instances where what is right is ignored and those in the wrong unpunished. We have just read that Prince Andrew or Mr Andrew Windsor has settled out of court with Virginia Guiffre, the woman who accused him of abusing her. Whether he did it or not is not important except that we are left with a distinct impression that the best ride in the game of life is not the roller coaster but the gravy train. Our woke justice is tainted by money!

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 2020

In adjudicating, we are told that there are always two sides to a story. Today, we get to hear from both sides—from the workers and the landowner. We learn from the labourers how disincentivising it can be. Especially for those who had worked from the beginning, slogging the entire day only to receive the same wage as those who came almost at the last minute. In other words, it does not pay to be hardworking. Just like this country, especially in the civil service. You work hard but because you have the wrong epidermal pigmentation, soon enough you will run into some unwritten barriers and you progress no further. The other side of the story flows from last week’s Gospel where we were taught to forgive in a manner which is outrageously disproportionate—not seven times but seventy times seven. This teaching provides a vista into God’s benevolence which brings us right to the point of the Gospel for today. God is incredibly generous. As the Landowner, He employs people to work in His vineyard but in terms of remuneration, he pays everyone equally.

 

While such an action might offend our sense of fair play, God has not been unjust. He actually paid those whom He had employed from the start of the day with the agreed sum of 1 Denarius. Yes, to put into perspective, one cannot be faulted for feeling resentful or victimised because prior to this parable, Peter did pose a question: “What about we who had left everything for you?”. To that question, Jesus promised the Apostles amazing rewards which suggests that those who have worked hard should expect better remuneration. Or if you were good, surely the reward should commensurate.

 

Sadly, this parable seems to shatter whatever notion we may have of what a just compensation should be.

 

Are we on the right track here? See, to think this passage is about justice or fairness is to miss the point. That God’s ways are not ours is not even the focus. The parable’s emphasis is the benevolence of God. The first truth to note about God’s generosity is how absurdly lenient it is. Pope Francis’ Iubilaeum Extraordinarium Misericordiae pinpointed this. However, bear in mind that God’s largesse is not in any way indulgent. This point that His compassion is not indulgent is vital simply because we are accustomed to entitlement.

 

Thus far, we can safely conclude that God’s benevolence has nothing to do with distributive justice—that is, it is not about God playing fair. Rather, God mercy is directed at the restoration of sinners. Hence, it is in fact even beyond retributive justice for we see how God readily admits into His kingdom those who sometimes enter by the skin of their teeth. In the parable, the workers employed last represent those who even at the last minute merited an admission into the Kingdom.

 

God’s generosity highlights an essential truth of our salvation. Firstly, nothing we do will ever merit an entrance into God’s Kingdom. Our Proddy brothers and sisters have reminded us time and again that our access into heaven has been merited by Jesus Christ alone. God owes us nothing whereas we owe Him everything. However, the fact that salvation is gratuitous does not remove culpability on our part and this leads me to the next point.

 

As stated earlier, God’s mercy is not indulgent because it requires cooperation on our part. The First Reading tells us to “seek the Lord while He may be found”. Whilst God is merciful, our search for Him is time-framed, if you like, because there will come a time when we will not be able to look for the Lord. Perhaps you begin to appreciate why Catholics offer Masses for the dead. Our ability to cooperate with God’s grace ends with our very last earthly breath. Rightly, the Catechism which quotes St Augustine states this: “’God created us without us: but He did not will to save us without us"[1]. To receive his mercy, we must admit our faults. "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (CCC#1847).

 

This Sunday we catch a glimpse of a God who is always bountiful in His mercy. However, the ball is in our court. Entitlement and indulgence will not cut it. Entitled because we feel that God owes it to us to let us in without any cooperation on our part. Indulgent because we sometimes confuse being good with feeling good or having a good life. In the Second Reading, St Paul is caught in a dilemma. For him, a good life is not living it up but to be with Christ. Nevertheless, he also realises that he is needed here on earth for the sake of his brothers and sisters. Likewise, for many us, we can be distracted by trying to have a good life forgetting that our goal is to be good and not necessarily to feel good in life. It is natural that none of us wants to die. In some parishes, thankfully not for us, if attendance at Mass were any measure, it is testimony to our desperation to hold on to dear life. But, whatever our disposition, having a desire to be with Christ like St Paul or to be fearful of dying and therefore staying away from Mass, St Paul’s advice remains as valid then as now. “Avoid anything in your everyday life that would be unworthy of the Gospel of Christ”. This is how we cooperate with God’s grace.

 

It would be good, like St Paul, to desire eternal life with Christ but in the meantime, we have a life to live and the goal is truly living it up but not in the sense of over-indulgence or lapping up in luxury but rather it describes a life in which we never lose sight of our destination—heaven. What is clear from this parable is that God always want to let us in. However, we must be like the workers who have this yearning to labour: “Nobody has hired us yet”. God’s invitation stays open and our aspiration remains the one key necessary to unlock the gate of entry. We desire, Lord, so let us in.

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[1] St. Augustine, Sermo 169, 11, 13: PL 38, 923. Another translation reads better. The God who created us without our consent cannot save us without our consent.

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The theme says the “Generous love of God”. What does it mean when we speak of God’s generous love because the parable, if it were an illustration of it, is really an affront to our sense of justice? In fact, the Gospel passage finds a parallel in a current crisis afflicting the financial world. Take a look at the European Union. The citizens of Germany may be wondering why they should be punished for the fiscal delinquency of Greece.

We live in an age of rights… and it is not just "I am right all the time" but rights, as in merits and entitlements, that flow from principles of justice and equity. But, if you pause to think further, you would find, more than ever, the vocabulary of merits and entitlements spelt with the alphabets of the economy.

Today, we are invited to reflect, not on how the principles of justice are to be upheld but to fathom the depth of God’s generous love. Two points to be made here. Firstly, this exercise does not mean that the principles of justice and equity are abrogated. If they were, pretty much of the Gospels will not make sense. Secondly, the parable is indeed most challenging because we have laboured under an unjust system which does not recognise merit but instead rewards mediocrity. Many of you understand what it is like to work hard only to have your entitlement denied by nothing except the accident of a wrong skin colour.

In this context, to plumb the depth of God’s generous love, we need to get away from a calculative mode of thinking. Do you know how our heads are naturally wired to calculating or measuring? To say that one has understood, we sometimes speak in terms of “I have figured it out”. But, once we have moved away from trying to “figure” out God’s generosity, meaning, to limit Him with our measures, a bigger picture emerges as echoed in the First Reading—the heavens are as high above earth as my ways above your ways, my thoughts above your thoughts.

Once our mind is set free from limiting God’s generosity, we begin to appreciate better how God could send His Son to die for us. And here is the irony. Consider the protagonists in the parable in terms of Jews and Christians. Christians are the Johnnies-come-lately and yet we appear to enjoy the same benefits as the Jews. God made a covenant with Abraham and the people of Israel. And, He generously extends that same faithful covenant to the Apostles, the early Church and now to us.

The lesson we derive from appreciating God’s generous love is that He invites us to His standard. Our generosity is often determined by just deserts meaning that to every man, what he deserves. Thus, merit is an important criterion to determine what one deserves. A good example would be to hear the justification of 11th Sept… that the Americans deserved what they got. Our sense of revenge is actually built on this kind of deserts like the Cantonese would say: “Serves you right”. If that be our standard, then God’s generosity in the Gospel parable would seem perverse.

The truth is that God’s generosity is a response to our needs. To every man, what he needs. He really does not treat us according to what we deserve. If He did, where would we be? In fact, the reason so many people we do not like are still alive--rapists, robbers and the fat woman whose name is spelt with an R?—is testament to a God who does not treat us according to our sins. On the contrary, this God comes to save us according to our need because His justice hinges on unmerited grace.

This explains "in God, mercy and justice meet". His mercy is tempered by justice and His justice sets the limits of mercy. I use the phrase hesitatingly. It means the limit is not really set by God. He will stoop down to save us because He recognises our need to be saved. The gratuity and generosity of His love is limited not by God but by our response. It means that we must, as the first reading says, “Seek the Lord while He is still to be found”. God’s generous love is both a gratuitous gift as well as a task. He comes to us because we need Him whether we acknowledge it or not but His love can never violate our freedom. The ball is really in our court.