26th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The Gospel and the 2nd Reading present us with contrasting pictures. The theme Christ obedient unto death is derived from the 2nd Reading. The great Christological hymn of St Paul’s letter to the Philippians describes the Incarnation, the act of Divine Condescension, as an act of obedience. Christ who willingly surrendered His divinity to assume the condition of a slave is held up as the supreme model of obedience.

The Gospel, on the other hand, lays bare a scenario closer to our reality. Our struggle with obedience is exemplified by the second son whose yes remains only in word and unrealised in deed. Whilst the 2nd Reading proposes an ideal, the Gospel reveals a painful truth of man’s struggle to match his actions with his words.

Why is there always a gap between what we say and what we do?

Ricoeur, a French philosopher tries to understand the source of the gap. To explain the gap, he turns to the three “Masters of Suspicion”—Frederic Nietzsche, Sigmund Freud and Karl Marx. These three thinkers were searching for authentic consciousness in the sense that they were interested to know the reason for the mismatch between word and deed. They suspected that the lapse between word and deed is caused by our passion for power, our infantile craving for sex and also insatiable desire for money. If that be the case, then we must adduce impure motives to people’s intention. No one can be trusted because there are always selfish reasons for one’s actions.

Sadly, this is confirmed in the fields of politics—abuse of authority; in the area of psychology—sexual satisfaction; and economy—selfish interest. Examples are a dime a dozen as they come to through electronic media. Daily we are fed a staple of how evil men have subverted the good for their own purposes. We are being warned every day not to trust someone who is “kind” because kindness is a prelude to some nefarious plan to rob or to rape.

Christ, in obedience to the Father’s will, proposes that the gaping chasm between word and action does not need to be filled by power, sex or money. Instead, our temptations actually reveal a craving for integrity. The more tempted we are by all these, the more we are crying out for integrity. What is integrity?

St Ignatius, when he speaks of love, says that love must be seen in deeds rather than in words. The way he speaks acknowledges that the gap is existential, that it is a given. It will always be there and the only way we can narrow the gap is to match our actions with our words. The word Purgatory may not mean much to Catholics these days. But, the basis for our belief in Purgatory rests on the gap which has to be narrowed. When we cannot, Purgatory does the trick for us in the afterlife. As such, in the context of presenting Christ as the ideal of obedience to the Father’s will, we begin with the most basic requirement of being true to our words. In short, the challenge of obedience in our context is to live lives of integrity.

This is where the blushing comes in. All of us have dirty secrets we keep from others. Tell me you don’t have and I call you Christ. In other words, we all are hypocrites; much like the second son who says yes but does not fulfil his promise. We all live double lives and it is a matter of degree. And here is the rub. The painful truth is this: the more we lament that our politicians are corrupt and that the country is in such dire political straits, the more we ought to look at ourselves. There is a correlation between how bad we perceive the country to be and where we are at the level of personal integrity. We speak of corruption at national level but we find little or no problem bribing a policeman for a traffic misdemeanour.

But, there is hope. The phenomenon of Reality TV is not just revelatory. Jerry Springer, Big Brother and Survivor, even though they follow a predictable pattern that dirty linen has to be publicly paraded, that predictable pattern may actually mask a deeper desire. The self-destructive drive to expose oneself may just be a cry for integrity. Reality TV, even if it were driven by a desire to come clean, cannot fulfil man’s desire for integrity, a desire which can be answered quite simply by Catholic Confession.

Christ as model of obedience challenges us to narrow the gap between our word and action. Where do I stand on the counter of integrity? Some of us mistakenly believe that as long as we do not cheat, steal or lie then we are OK. In short, we believe integrity to be merely a personal and private affair. But, the fact remains that evil abounds because “men of integrity” remain silent.

In summary, the path to obedience begins with faltering steps towards integrity. Obedience is not merely abnegating one’s will or surrendering one’s life. It grows with integrity. My word must become my bond. It is a struggle and it will always be and the path begins not with a grand vision, not found in self-help books, will not come about by thinking about it in the future. The ideal of obedience to God’s will can only be lived out by the reality of our integral lives. It begins with faltering steps and never without hope because regular Confessions and faithful attendance of Mass is our sure help and strength in this path towards integrity and finally, obedience to the Father’s will.

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.

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Recently, I preached a short homily that disturbed some parishioners. I shall repeat an edited version here because it might challenge our unquestioned assumptions about who Christ is and what God is capable of. In a way, I am engaging your “backgrounds” because our backgrounds/assumptions power how we behave and thus, they have implications for faith.

This is what I preached in relation to the miracle in today’s Gospel. There was really no miracle of the “multiplication”. It seemed that people had brought picnic baskets which they had somehow kept under their robes. The miracle, if it could be termed as such, was Christ convincing the crowd to pull out their “selfish” baskets and made them share their picnic with everyone. They all ate as much as they liked and then, the best part was, Christ taught them all to sing “Kumbayah” as they all swayed and twirled in this one big love-fest of dance on beds of flowers enveloped by a swirling haze of ganja smoke.

If it was really a miracle, it should be known as the miracle of shame and persuasion. Christ shamed those who had brought more than enough and persuaded them to share with those who did not make provision for a whole day spent in the remote location.

The question is why do we, especially priests, find it difficult believing that this miracle really took place?

We live an incredulous or unbelieving age today. Not only do we not believe in people’s kindness or goodness. There is always something insidious about people’s motivations. It is like we have a particular sort of lens which reads the worse into people’s intentions. That is understandable because the world seems to have become less friendly. Evil men have subverted the good for the own evil purposes and as such, the world is so much more a dangerous place. [1] An example of evil men perverting the good is people who come dressed as Telekom employees to rob houses.

But, that is not really the reason why we do not believe in the possibility of this miracle. We also seem to have an interpretative lens that denies the past what we cannot conceive of today. It means that miracles must be ruled out simply because that which cannot be replicated or repeated in the laboratory cannot be true.

It is a form of prejudice against the supernatural—a reductionism which demythologises anything that cannot be explained scientifically. Anything supernatural in the Bible, the Church, and the saints have to be re-formulated for the logical, rational and scientifically-minded people. For example, St Francis Xavier was said to have raised the dead. Today, we downplay that account of his holiness and attribute it to legendary embellishment.

This practice of demythologising can also be an expression of political correctedness that has gone rampantly wild. The fact that this miracle can take place proclaims clearly the divine origin of Christ. In a way, demythologising is a subtle denial of the incarnation. This person whom we called Jesus Christ has to be explained away as merely a man who was the best of men. He achieved the fullest potential of what a man could be and therefore was the best reflexion of divinity. In the context of religious intolerance and the need for sensitivity, we now have a Christ more palatable or acceptable to all religions. [2] The fact that Christ is God has a decisiveness to Him which can be threatening.

As they say, a fact lost in interpretation is that the multiplication of the loaves is the only miracle, apart from the Resurrection told by all four Gospels. If shame, persuasion and sharing were that important would they not have been recorded in at least one of the Gospels? Furthermore, the Gospel did not record any dialogue between Christ and the crowd. The only “conversation” recorded was between Christ and the disciples and from today’s Gospel we get simply this fact: Jesus took the five loaves and the two fish, gave thanks and said the blessing, broke the bread, and He handed them to His disciples. Where do you hear the echo of this? You hear this precisely in the Institution Narrative: “On the night he was betrayed, He took bread and gave you thanks and praise. He broke the bread, gave it to His disciples, and said”.

A miracle is a miracle. All the Gospels record many that Christ performed. But, do you know that only 7 of them are selectively recorded in John’s Gospel. The number 7 points to divine completeness as each miracle is only possible because the Man is also our Lord, Saviour and God.

Finally, the idea that the miracle that Christ performed was more about sharing highlights or emphasises something which is relevantly significant and perhaps necessary for us to hear; that there is enough food. If only we learn to share and not waste, the resources of the world would be enough for everyone. But, that misses the point. This miracle, even though it revolves around food, is not about sharing—noble as the idea may sound. Rather the miracle points to the stupendous power of God to effect that which is beyond our imagination and clearly beyond the narrow scope of our scientific expectation. This is not an entirely a negative statement because we subscribe to rationality. As such, we have difficulty suspending the laws of physics. But, the irony is we do suspend the laws of physics because we accept miracles of healing attested at Lourdes, for example. But, the multiplication of loaves, it is a bit too much of a suspension of the laws of physics.

The fact that priests have tried explaining away the miracle may indicate a crisis of faith. Even if we speak of faith, our faith in the supernatural is closer to the idea of God as a soft-drink dispensing machine. It is quite mechanical; the mechanics almost suggested by the 1st Reading. We pray, therefore God must answer. If God does not answer our prayer, we turn to Lilian Thoo and her world of fengshui or we turn to the ubiquitous or all-present “bomohs”. Our faith cannot stand up to the vicissitudes as poignantly described St Paul in the 2nd Reading. We struggle to come up to the faith of St Paul.

Ultimately, this miracle is linked to another miracle. In fact it is a prelude to the greatest of all miracles: bread will now become no less than the same substance that walked 2000 years ago. To explain it away reveals our schizophrenic faith. We believe in the Eucharist but have difficulty accepting the multiplication of loaves and fish. So, if you believe that the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ, then as the colloquial Chinese would say, the multiplication of the loaves and the fish would be simply “sap sap sui le”. [No sweat]. In other words, Christ will not even break a sweat on His brow if he multiplied loaves and fish.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] It is ironical that the tagline for the Transformers is “more than meets the eye”. The Transformers are the logical expressions of a scientific and linear rationality—rationality which thinks logically in a linear way so much so that it excludes intuition. Thus, the tagline appears to preserve a certain degree of intuition that accepts what looks logically so might not be so. What we have is that our intuition cannot intuit beyond what we already presume reality to be… hostile and unfriendly. The fundamental position we take is that world is a cruel place and it cannot be trusted.
[2] In the same manner, the Resurrection is explained away by appealing to some “naturalistic” descriptions. For example, the Apostles underwent an intense spiritual experience after the death of Christ so much so that they began to believe what they wanted to believe.

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Today should be dedicated as a “Don’t be judgemental” Sunday. This suggestion is premised on the idea of a God who is a merciful judge. We hear it in the first reading where God’s justice is juxtaposed with His leniency. What is more, the Gospel portrays a field where wheat and weed can grow side by side. In the light these two readings, what does it mean that one should not be judgemental?

If you take a moment to reflect on this, judging is not on trial here. We judge all the time. To say, “Do not judge”, is almost like saying, “Do not breathe”. It is inevitable that we adjudicate as long as we are breathing. If you were late, you would need to ascertain whether it was safe or not before you dash across Jalan Gasing in order to catch the first reading. At the petrol station, whilst filling up your tank, you decide if one of your car’s tyres has enough air. In the kitchen you check that your roast in the oven is already brown. And the appraising, evaluating and concluding goes on.

We automatically use our judgement because it is a faculty necessary for life to function. That being the case, then how we judge and the criteria we use to judge are on trial. Hence, “Do not be judgemental” refers to how and by what criteria we have arrived at our judgements.

How are we to use our faculty of judgement? In particular, how do we deal with the reality of sinners and sins?

Firstly, the Gospel provides a useful glimpse of how the early Church was guided by Her Lord in dealing with the reality of imperfection. The Pharisees believed in a kingdom meant for saints. In such a utopian ideal, sinners were supposed to be weeded out. But, in telling the parable of the wheat and weed, it became clear that up and until the time of judgement, the Church—the Kingdom in pilgrimage—would be made up of both saints and sinners. The Church should be big enough to embrace sinners.

Secondly, how we are to judge is helped by how Christ personally dealt with sinners. Remember the scene in John’s Gospel with Christ, the woman caught in adultery and the very “righteous” crowd. The crowd was insistent that the law should be applied because it was a clear-cut case—anyone caught in adultery should be stoned to death. Christ did not prohibit judging when He applied the rule that the sinless be the first to cast the stone. It was not a case of “Don’t be judgemental”. Instead, He proceeded to separate the sinner from the sin. He forgave her whilst commanding her to sin no more. When we say that God’s mercy is just, we mean that His mercy extends to the sinner whilst His judgement is against the sin. [1]

The distinction between the sinner and sin is crucial to how we are to judge. Without separating the two, what follows would be the attempt to weed out the sinner and not just the sin. We would like to think that we have progressed culturally, economically, politically and socially but the fact remains that many of us are unable to make this distinction. An example would be the recent beatification of John Paul II, when the enlightened and civilised world was aghast at the presence of Robert Mugabe, the President of Zimbabwe. How could the Holy See allow this man, considered to be evil, to be present? It would seem that the Church has condoned the evil that Mugabe had committed. [2] Enlightened though we may be, things have not changed since the time of our Lord. The Scribes and the Pharisees were aghast at how Jesus could mingle with tax-collectors, prostitutes and sinners.

In the light of a momentous event to come this Monday; a meeting with implications for the Church in Malaysia, we need to make a distinction between the sinner and his sins because God’s grace works in mysterious ways. By saying that God’s grace is mysterious, it is not absolving the sinner of his responsibilities. Instead, it affirms that God’s mercy cannot be constrained by our limited sense of justice. But, if you think further, our inability or refusal to make this distinction actually points to our systematic despair. [3] We do not believe enough in God’s grace. We dare not trust God. When we fear to trust God, then we would need to forge a better world. In fact, we would need to force the world to conform to our image and likeness. [4] So, in our failure to belief, we begin to demand a world that is “either or”, forgetting that the world of grace is “both and”. Therefore, we want a Church which is made of either saints or not at all, forgetting that the Church is made up of both saints and sinners. The parable of the yeast reveals how good that can come despite evil. Yeast is a corrupting agent and yet it is able to make the dough rise. So, Christ draws the analogy that even evil can be subverted by God to be a catalyst for the good.

So, what will the headlines of our newspaper be on Tuesday? Will we be horrified, scandalised, and disgusted by front-page picture which will juxtapose what we consider to be good and evil? How will we judge in such a situation? The parable of the wheat and weed comes at an opportune Sunday to remind us, not so much as, not to judge but to make a distinction between the sinner and his sins and also to reassure us that what may seem like evil subverting the good for its own advancement may also be in the light of grace, God subverting evil in order to further His kingdom. For God’s mysterious grace to work, we need to trust Him and we need so much more prayers.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] Instead of focusing on the issue of sin, often we end up criticising the sinner. Therefore, it is not the fact that one has sinned that is problematic. The “how” is problematic in the sense that one may have point but how that point has been made would determine the “sinner’s” openness to change. A good example is trying to point out the fault of a server but in a moment of anger, the priest might blurt out “You stupid ah”. No lesson is learnt here. Instead, the server might be canonised in his fault to repeat it.
[2] In fact, both the sinner and his sins are fused in a way in which we see no difference between them. Our condemnation of a heinous crime often corresponds to our severe condemnation of the sinner. Thus, the punishment for crime must correspond in exactly an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
[3] It is not helped because our personality-driven world is littered by the failures of our fallen icons. It is close to systematic failure because almost every one of our traditional icons for leadership—religious, political, social and cultural have been found wanting—priests, religious, politicians, industrialists. All have been found to betray our trusts. In a climate where all hopes are dashed, it is no wonder our hearts are hardened and we no longer can see between a sinner and his sins.
[4] A good example of this “force” is found in spousal relationships. When husband and wife dare not trust God, then they will want to force a solution to the problems that they have as a couple. In fact, much of our counselling relates to this lack of trust expressed as both desiring to “make” the relationship better.

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The Sunday theme and the Gospel seem to be at opposite ends of a spectrum. The theme, “The Lord is kind and full of compassion”, is taken from the Responsorial Psalm. For those who subscribe to the Gospel of Nice, a theme like this is reassuring. But note that there may be a correlation between the idea of a nice God and our definition of freedom. Lurking near our idea of a God who is kind and compassionate is a corresponding notion that He cannot help but forgive. Not far from the notion of a helpless but forgiving God is a concept of freedom that is almost absolute. [1]

Today’s Gospel passage, however, gives us another picture. We are invited to bear the yoke of Christ. The yoke is to corral and curtail the free movement of draught animals whose function is basically to do what they have been harnessed and trained to do. Thus, the yoke suggests of “slavery”.

So, on the one hand, the Sunday theme proposes a kind of freedom and on the other hand, the Gospel prescribes slavery. How are they related and are they really opposite ends of a spectrum? Is the opposite of freedom slavery? To answer these questions, we need to understand the difference between liberty and licence; between what is possible and what is permissible.

When we think of freedom, we think of liberty. Our working understanding of liberty is basically licence; licence to do what we want. But, liberty is not a licence to do what we want. Consider this: We are at liberty to choose good or evil. This liberty accords with the definition of who we are—created in the image and likeness of God. Whilst we are at liberty to choose good or evil, we have no licence to do evil. Let me rephrase. We have the freedom to choose good or evil but we have no right to do evil and licence seems to suggest that. When we cannot tell the difference between liberty and licence, then our definition of liberty is the licence/right to do anything and everything.

This brings me to my next point which is the difference between what is possible and what is permissible. There is an infinite array of possibilities in all our lives. Science, with its attendant applications, technology, has made life liveable. Through technological progress we have achieved an enviable standard of living and we will continue to improve in the quality of life. With such improvement, we also widen our possibilities. What has also happened is that we have equated possibility with permissibility. The possibility of splitting the atom has been translated into the permissible use of nuclear fission in bombs, for example. This example highlights the difference between what is possible and what is permissible and instinctively we know that they are not the same. Possibility describes our capacity but permissibility prescribes our moral responsibility. In a way, Japan’s Fukushima has brought this distinction to the fore. Europe certainly possesses the technology and yet her citizens are debating the permissibility of building nuclear power stations. [2] There are lines beyond which possibility will not cross even if it can. What is possible for us to do is not always permissible. Therefore, I may have the liberty to terminate a person’s life but I do not have the licence to do so.

Here you begin to realise that the liberty that we have been socialised to believe we ought to have is a kind which is invested solely in the individual, meaning that it is a liberty that is unfettered and absolute. You watch the “Pursuit of Happyness” and you hear the main character Christopher Gardner, played by Will Smith, mouthing the same philosophy: “Hey. Don't ever let somebody tell you... You can't do something. Not even me. All right?” That philosophy seems to permeate every stratum of our society especially young people who are daily fed this fallacy that “nobody can limit them”. Let me clarify, on one level Christopher Gardner was correct but to remain at that level would be to set an individual’s unfettered liberty as the sole criterion for a person’s self-expression. [3]

However, apply that unlimited capacity for self-expression to the act of suicide. A man who jumps off the 21st story of a hotel appears to behave according to the dictate of absolute liberty in the sense that he is in charge of his life. However, place that single act of “individual and unfettered liberty” against the actions of the detectives who need to investigate the circumstances that led to the jumping, the personnel from CSI who need to examine a mangled body, and worse, the poor Indonesian contract workers who have to scrape off body parts, wash the blood off the pavement and scrub clean the wall of the hotel, etc.

There is no such thing as unencumbered liberty. Our liberty is always set in relation to others. Doing what we want is not always an expression of freedom. What is ironical is that the very exercise of “personal” liberty, in many cases, is also an expression of our slavery. The liberty to watch pornography is actually a form of slavery. [4] The same goes for playing computer games endlessly, drinking excessively and gambling thoughtlessly. These are addictions. They enslave.

The opposite of freedom is not slavery as if the presence of one necessitates the absence of the other. You are either free or not free. True freedom is not the absence of slavery. True freedom is only found when we are bound—according to the second reading: “Your interests are not in the unspiritual, but in the spiritual because the Spirit of God has made His home in us”. In the Gospel, Christ tells us that true freedom is to be bound under His yoke. The meaning of being bound under His yoke is spelt out by the Catechism: Human freedom is a force for growth and maturity in truth and goodness; it attains its perfection when directed toward God, our beatitude. The more one does what is good, the freer one becomes. Our greatest freedom comes not because we are free from slavery to addiction but from being yoked to Christ. Only when we freely accept the yoke of Christ do we come to realise that He is not our “captor” but our liberator. He stands not behind us as a task master but beside us bearing the full weight of our yoke. So, the more we are bound to Him, the more we will know true freedom. In Him, we live, we move and have our greatest freedom.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] When we have a God on our side, we gain greater confidence and thus, freedom. Here, we are not too far from a God who cannot help but forgive…
[2] Maybe we do need to go to Europe. Here in our backyard if only our government understand this difference with respect to the issue of the “rare earth” facility of Lynas.
[3] It is true that no one can limit our dreams but our dreams are circumscribed by the curtains of permissibility.
[4] Recognising the difference between liberty and licence, what is possible and what is permissible may help us understand where the Church is coming from. In the area of contraception, the Church based her teaching on what she considers to be permissible whereas many Catholics reaction would come from what is possible. Clearly we do have the means and yet we are not permitted.

Corpus Christi Year A

Today is 1st Holy Communion for our children. To understand what they are doing and what they are receiving we need to need to know what had happened before the Gospel passage we have heard and what happened after. The Gospel is taken from John 6. Here, we hear Christ making the connexion between eating His flesh, drinking His blood and eternal life. “My flesh is real food. My blood is real drink. Anyone who does eat my flesh and drink my blood has eternal life”.

What happened before the Gospel passage we just heard was that Christ had fed 5000 men, not to mention women and children. After they had eaten, they wanted more food. But Jesus had already left for Capernaum crossing the Lake Tiberias. The people followed after Jesus but they were not looking for Him. They were searching for the easy source of food and Jesus got into a conversation with them. When Jesus told them that the food for eternal was His flesh and His blood, they were disgusted by the suggestion of “cannibalism”. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat”?

But Jesus was insistent, “If you want to have eternal life, the only way you are going to get it is to eat my flesh and drink my blood”. This was where everything started to unravel. Many disciples left Him and stopped going with Him. The reaction of Jesus to their departure is important for us because Jesus did not run after them to correct them. He did not say, “I am sorry, I did not mean that”. Instead to confirm what He really meant, He turned to Peter: “What about you? You want to leave as well?” We know the answer: The Apostles stayed with Jesus.

What is significant is that Jesus in today’s Gospel did not say, “Eat my body”. That would be easy because we can metaphorically or figuratively explain that “Eat my body” has a less “yucky” feel to it. For example, “I could eat a horse” does not mean I want to eat a horse. It just means that I want to eat a lot. It is a figure of speech. Thus, in the context of the Gospel, for John to use the word “flesh” is to show the seriousness of Jesus’ claim. [1]

In fact, the word “eat” sounds sterile. The word closer to the original Greek is to chew or to masticate. To have eternal life we must chew, gnaw or masticate His flesh and drink His blood. If that be the case, Jesus would be lying to all of us if He did not keep His promise. To keep His promise, He must give us His Flesh and Blood to eat and drink. And the only way that He can keep His promise is that something must change in the Eucharist.

Let me explain this change through this power-point presentation.

Explaining transubstantiation

It is either Jesus or it is not. If it is not, then I have wasted my entire life. Yours too. But if it is, then your behaviour and mine must change because it is Jesus and no less. What we receive is the True Presence, not false. What we receive is really Jesus, not a symbol. What we receive is substantially the same Jesus who walked 2000 years ago.

If it is truly, really and substantially Jesus, then, He is to be adored under the appearance of bread. When we receive Holy Communion the hand, we make sure that no crumbs are left on the palm of our hand or on our fingers. Now you know why I have stopped blessing children. It does not make sense to rub particles of the sacred species onto the children’s foreheads. So, those of you who are weak and elderly and also unsure in your steps, you may want to consider receiving Holy Communion on the tongue to avoid accident with the sacred species. The other day I gave communion in two species and there was spillage. When that happens, theoretically, the place where the consecrated host lands or the consecrated wine is spilt has to be purified. But, we organise our lives according to convenience and also for many of us, the Blessed Sacrament is at best an exalted symbol, to “waste time” purifying does not really make sense. Why? Because we do not appreciate the Blessed Sacrament as it really is.

If we do appreciate it, then, outside of the celebration of Mass, we genuflect before the Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle when we cross the nave of the Church. When the Blessed Sacrament is carried in procession and it passes you, you kneel because your God is passing before you. The Solemnity of Corpus Christi is not complete without the procession. We carry Jesus our Lord around in a procession stopping at four different places that represent the four corners of the world. We, who believe that what we are receiving is truly, really and substantially Jesus, we, bring Him to the world. In this procession, we pray that the Body of Christ will make us more and more into the Body of Christ—the more we eat of Him, the more we shall become like Him.

This is our Jubilee Year. We desire it to be a holy year. We also desire to be holy personally. But, sometimes we approach this desire in a wrong way because holiness is truly a fruit of a deepened appreciation of the Eucharist and the True Presence therein. There more we grow in Eucharistic love, the more we yearn for holiness. Otherwise, we will be running around trying to do more thinking that the more we do the holy we are.

The troubles we have as Church may be traced to this problem: priest and people have treated the Blessed Sacrament as a symbol. Yes, we treat it as a very special symbol but still, it is a symbol and no more. I do not want to be a priest who celebrates a symbol. I want to be a priest who celebrates a change that is real, true and substantial. If the Church is serious about her mission in the world, then she needs to return to the knowledge and deepened appreciation of what the Blessed Sacrament is: truly, really and substantially Jesus Christ our Lord.

FOOTNOTE:
[1] As far as we are concerned “Eat my Body” and “Eat my Flesh” are the same. The former is neither a figure of speech nor metaphorical. Just that “Eat my Body” sounds less threatening. The intent, however, is the same as “Eat my Flesh”.

Trinity Sunday Year A

From someone rarely spoken of, or, someone left out in ordinary Christian conversation, we move onto a subject not easy to understand. Last week, the so-called “person rarely spoken of” was the Holy Spirit. This Sunday, the subject not easy to understand is the Trinity. The Trinity is really difficult God-talk. [1] Against the backdrop of Judaism and Islam, a backdrop of strict monotheism, how is it that we claim to believe in one God? How is it that three persons in one God do not equate to three Gods?

In the first place, the dogma of the Holy Trinity is not a product of pure human reasoning but a result of reason’s collaboration with divine revelation. We can never come to know the God who is one in three, without God first revealing Himself to us. The source of God’s revelation is sacred scriptures, both the Old and the New Testaments. This revelation means that Sacred Tradition with the help of reason has this task of elucidating this mystery whilst at the same time recognising its own limits. Today, I am not going to answer the “how” of “How three persons can be one God?” but to explore “how” the approaches we take of our discussions of God have implications.

There are basically two ways of approaching a discussion on the Trinity—Trinitatis ad intra and Trinitatis ad extra. Trinitatis ad intra refers to the immanent or the ontological Trinity. It is to speak of God’s nature or God as He really is and it pertains to the inner or interior life of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Trinitatis ad extra, on the other hand, refers to the economic Trinity. It speaks of God’s activity in the world and how He functions with reference to creation, redemption and sanctification. It describes how God functions in the Church and the world.

In summary, ontological Trinity explains who God is whereas economic Trinity explains what God does. Which approach is more important? According to Karl Rahner, a German theologian, he says that the “economic” Trinity is the “immanent” Trinity and the “immanent” Trinity is the “economic” Trinity. So, both approaches are important. However, our problem is that we are no longer at home with the language of the immanent or ontological Trinity. Why? Well, for one, it sounds rather indulgent and it seems to border on “narcissism”. Who cares? Instead, we are more at home with the language of the economic Trinity. It is certainly more relevant. Let me illustrate why we seem to opt for the economic rather than the immanent Trinity. The concept of "person@ in the Trinity is not the same as we understand a person to be. A person in the Trinity describes a relationship. Thus, the Father is Father because He has a Son and vice-versa. Your response might be, “Err… so what?” What has that knowledge to do with us?

As we are more at home with the language of the economy, it is easier to speak of the Trinity in terms of functions. For example, God the Father creates, God the Son redeems and God the Holy Spirit sanctifies. [2] As you can see, it is far easier to understand God in relation to us because ours is a culture basically characterised by “work”, “doing” or “achievement”. We live this self-actualising or self-driven philosophy which cuts across everything that we do.

The result of losing this sense of “being” or ontology is we begin to think of being in terms of doing. In fact, we have become more “doing”, more “functional” and much more “utilitarian”. By definition then, a thing is because of what it does.

The loss of this sense of “being” has grave implications. A good analogy to give you an idea about this loss is the difference between “vocation” and “career”. Vocation has taken on a more restrictive connotation. When we speak of vocation, we think of priestly or religious vocation. But vocation is a calling “to be”, more than it is a calling “to do”. The vocation “to be” is no longer fashionable because we seemed to have defined ourselves by what we do rather than we take our cue from who we are. When a priest is measured by his “function”, you can be sure that not far from this mentality is the call to “ordain” women because anyone can carve out a career as a “priest”. Anyone can do a priest’s job.

When we forget “being”, the result is that we will esteem or honour the self-made man. Put it in another way, “What are you if you are not your work?” Even though this sounds a little calculative but that is basically how we measure worth. Can you hear the distant echo of euthanasia?

In a way we are not so different from ages before us. In ancient times, the Tower of Babel was a good example of this “self-actualising” philosophy. Today, our “self-actualisation” tends to equate our technological prowess or capability with “progress”. In science and technology, we have progressed in leaps and bounds. As a consequence, we unconsciously and mechanically translate this progress into the “spiritual” realm. As we believe that we can economically shape ourselves, we can also “spiritually” forge ourselves. In fact, the Tower of Babel stands as a testament to humanity’s belief that it can stand head and shoulder with God and say, “Here is a world better than what you have given us”. I believe that many of us have this idea that Confession is useless because we continue sinning. Behind this despair is this idea: “Why can’t I be more perfect so that God can be worthy of me”? When we forget being, we begin to define ourselves by “doing”. And when we “do”, we will come to believe we can make ourselves worthy of God.

The forgetfulness of “being” means that the Blessed Trinity has to work very hard to convince us. In fact, He has to work many miracles in order to be a step ahead of humanity. [3] The implication of forgetting the garden of ontology is that we will be cursed to wander the wasteland of utility trying to measure ourselves by our achievements. Trinity Sunday is an invitation to reflect on God’s being in Himself, a seemingly useless exercise but existentially important to us. Knowing who God is means that we will allow God to work in our lives.

Finally, what we do does not define who we are but rather who we are defines what we do. Who are we? We are not self-made man or self-made woman. But, we are made in the image and likeness of God. Not knowing ourselves, we will be driven to innovate, renovate and recreate. Thus, to discover Man, we have to discover God. To discover Man, we need to return to the garden of “being” or ontology to reflect on who God is and not only what God does.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] It is perhaps a tad easier to understand the “make-up” of Christ. Who is He? He is the 2nd Person of the Trinity. What is He? He is both divine and human. Thus, Christ is one person, a divine person, with two natures, both divine and human. Furthermore, the consubstantiality between the Father and Son was officially confirmed at the Council of Nicea in AD325, while the consubstantiality of the Holy Spirit with the Father and Son was officially established at the Council of Constantinople in AD381.
[2] The truth is opera trinitatis ad extra indivisa sunt. It means that the works of the Trinity outside are indivisible. It means that one cannot really say that the persons of the Trinity are distinguished by how they act in the world. The only way to distinguish the three persons is through their relationships. The Father is the source of the Son and the Spirit. The Son is begotten of the Father. And the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son.
[3] How many of you do “take-aways”? Have you ever thought of the styrofoam containers we use to pack our take-aways? They come directly from the factory straight to our hawkers and what if with food, we also ingest styrofoam “dust”? Some of the chemicals we ingest are cumulative in our bodies and when cancer strikes, we cry “Why God?” without thinking that we contribute to our self-poisoning. Instead, poor God has to work so many more “miracles” because we are just too dumb or selfish.