5th Sunday of Lent Year A 2023

This is the final detour into John’s Gospel. For three successive Sundays, the passages read have been substantially long. From the Samaritan woman at the well, to the healing of the man blind from birth and today we shall witness the miracle of life through the raising of Lazarus.

These three passages coincide with the Scrutinies and are meant to instruct those who are preparing for Baptism as well as to remind those already baptised. During the Scrutinies, the Elect are prayed over, laid hands on and exorcised. This Sunday they will receive the “Our Father” which they will subsequently recite publicly with the congregation for the first time at the Easter Vigil where they will be baptised. (In the past, the Elect would be dismissed after the Scrutinies and so it makes sense that they will recite it publicly with congregation at the Easter Vigil).

This Sunday’s Gospel centres on matters vital to the meaning of human existence—life and death. The narrative is straightforward. Lazarus, a close friend of Jesus had been unwell. Even though the sisters of the sick man made an appeal for Jesus to come and visit him, the Lord basically tarried in His response. By the time Jesus made His way to visit Lazarus, he had already been in the tomb for four days. The shortest verse in the Gospel consists of these two words that simply revealed the depth of Christ’s humanity: Jesus wept. Such was the Lord’s love for His friend.

The Evangelist John uses the untimely demise of Lazarus to highlight that Jesus is the Lord who has power over death. The Lord could have healed Lazarus if He had immediately rushed to visit him or better still, from a distance, command with merely a word, as He did with the Royal Official’s dying son in Capernaum. As this marks the last of the seven signs in John’s Gospel, God’s glory is to be manifested through the death of Lazarus. The symbolism is profound as highlighted in the ensuing dialogue between Jesus and Martha. Jesus used one of the seven “I AM” statements when He said, “I AM the Resurrection and the Life”. The connexion between death and the Resurrection is found in the Person of Jesus Christ.

What does it mean for us?

We are mesmerised in every instance of death and subsequent returning to life because we are unnerved by the absoluteness of death. Here today, gone tomorrow. Here now, gone later. What makes it more frightening is NOT that nobody has peeled back the curtain of death. In fact, Christianity believes that Christ underwent death but He came back victorious in the resurrection. The death and the resurrection of Jesus signalled that life is not ended when we breathe our last here on earth.

The dilemma we face can be gleaned from the manner we behave beginning with the reaction towards the pandemic to the current controversy concerning gender. Our problem merely reflects the confusion we have with regard to death and the beyond. What do I mean by that?

The daughter of the Jairus was raised from the dead. The son of the widow of Nain was brought back to life. Today Lazarus is set free from the pangs of death. But they are not the fullness of life promised by the Death and Resurrection of Christ. Everyone who has ever been resuscitated will have to undergo death once again.

While Lazarus may have lived to a ripe old age and the Gospel does not record it, the point is he died again. That is why the pivotal message of the Gospel today is centred on the dialogue between Christ and Martha. Jesus said: “I am the resurrection and the life. If anyone believes in me, even though he dies, he will live and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this”? Martha replied, “Yes, Lord, I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the one who was to come into the world”. This act of faith carries with it a belief that death here on earth is not the final chapter because we have been created for the Resurrection.

Christ died in order that we might be able to rise in Him. As indicated above, our struggle or the dilemma today is with the possibility of life after death. The contemporary conception of life and its meaning is greatly steeped in a materialism that makes us forget the spiritual side of our existence. Life here on earth does not only have an expiration date; it is also limited. We tend to calculate life in terms of years. For example, the measure that of a good life is living to a ripe old age. Preferably the person should die in mentis compos meaning that he or she should breathe the last in relative mental composure. But if one were to convert those years into breaths, how many million breaths do we have? Every passing minute we would have whittled down our fixed number of breaths and counting down. We are breathing to die.

It is precisely because life is limited  that it must be contextualised with eternity. We are created for the eternal which makes everything we do here important. Firstly in order to enter eternal life we need to die. Not merely as a price for our sins but rather because earthly existence is not meant to be eternal. Secondly, if there were no Resurrection, we will be tempted and driven to squeeze all “meanings” into this temporal time-frame. Without the Resurrection, the cry for meaning will compel truth to be manufactured to fit the situation.[1] As a result, if we were unable to fulfil our desires and dreams, without the possibility of the Resurrection, we would be abject failures.[2] Thirdly, in terms of sins, since we are so conscious of our carbon footprint, we ought to leave as small a sinful footprint as possible so that our transition from life here on earth to life with Christ would be swift. As the 2nd Reading reminds us, we live according to the Spirit and not according to the flesh. The focus of a life in the Spirit is hinged on the grace of interior freedom from sin right up to the end where we enter into the beatitude of pure joy.

In conclusion, the raising of Lazarus was simply a resuscitation. Whilst spectacular, nevertheless, it was merely an appetiser to the powerful reality of the Resurrection. Martha’s confession clarified and showed that the guarantee of life everlasting is founded on faith in Jesus Christ. Throughout these Scrutinies, the Elect are invited to embrace the faith of the Samaritan woman, the faith of the man blind from birth and now in the person of Martha, together with the Elect, each one is invited to place his or her confidence in Christ who alone can lead us to the immortality promised in the Resurrection.



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[1] For example, a man who feels like a woman will mean that we must find a category to describe this and therefore that becomes the truth. There is a development of calling a pregnant woman who has transitioned into a “man” a “sea-horse dad” because in nature it is the male seahorses that give birth. The lengthening alphabets surround the LGBTQIA++ is an example of how much that spectrum needs to be widened in order to accommodate “truths”. No longer will meaning be derived from truth/reality but our meaning is the determinant of truth.


[2] A person might live a meaningless life. For example, someone “mentally disabled” from birth. What is his worth? Nothing if we use “ability” as a measure of meaning. He should not exist but because there is the Resurrection, the final reconciliation is that God in eternity can make up for what that person lacked in this lifetime.

Laetare Sunday Year A 2023

Laetare Sunday marks the mid-point of Lent. The Catholic character that appreciates both our natures, material and spiritual, bids us to rejoice as we anticipate the nearness of Christ’s saving Passion and Resurrection. Last week we met Jesus the Spring of Eternal Life. This week, we turn our attention from water to the realities of light and sight, both physical and spiritual.

In the Gospel, Jesus healed a man blind from birth. The backdrop reveals a strong connexion between sin and physical infirmities. The notion prevailing then was that sin would result in physical imperfection. Hence the intense interrogation of the blind man healed as to whose sin had caused his blindness in the first place. Added to that, the healing took place on a Sabbath. That presented a dilemma for the observant Pharisees. The Gospel offers the man born blind as a model of conversion and at the same time reveals the irony of the sighted who were spiritually blind. Instead, he who was visually impaired could see who Christ was and came to faith in Him.

What sort of eyes do we need to see and believe better? As Jesus challenged the Pharisees to see beyond the narrow limits of their own world-view, He challenges us to go beyond what we are comfortable with. If we think that the Pharisees were terrible, perhaps we should survey the blinkers we unwittingly wear. Correcting our assessment of the how Pharisees operate for it might actually help us see better.

Firstly, the Pharisees have been painted in less than glamorous light giving the impression that they were hopelessly incorrigible. The word “Pharisee” itself is ladened with negative connotations. In not so many words, as we read the many exchanges between Jesus and them, they have been depicted as wilfully blind. Even Jesus was exasperated by their hardness of heart. However, our perception of the Pharisees’ wilful blindness may be a reflexion of the anti-religiosity of our present age. Organised religions because they focus on the setting of boundaries are increasingly considered irrelevant amongst modern religious sceptics who value individual autonomy and freedom. We chafe when we are obligated by religious edicts.

This bias against the Pharisees in particular and religions in general, is symptom of our own blindness. We suffer from an addiction to attention. For example, ADHD (attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) is possibly an extreme form of our age of media attention. Unwittingly, we vie for recognition because we crave to be liked. In desiring attention, we are concerned about what others think of us. The word “optics” comes to mind.

Multinationals and big companies have PR teams to handle how their corporate actions should be perceived and understood. Currently, the canon for correct corporate conduct is “DEI”—diversity, equity and inclusion. Increasingly our politics are placed under the microscopic glare of these criteria. In fact, much of our political optics is derived from posturing, theatre, drama and grandstanding.

In a climate where metaphysics or God does not exist, what we see is determined by ideas or notions shaped using the tools of branding and marketing. People do not just see what they want to see. They are also guided and manipulated to perceive what the powers that be want them to perceive. Getting the optics right is the premise of branding, marketing and public relations.

Whether we know it or not, our carefully staged social and political theatres operate within a phenomenon recently described as the echo chamber. Clearly, the Pharisees were caught in a kind of herd-think in which they merely magnify each other’s shared belief to the point that they could not see beyond the barriers of their tiny bubble. If we condemn them as narrow-minded, what about our cyber search engines that magnify this “echo” effect many times over? Try searching for an airfare on a particular airlines and soon enough the advertisements from that specific airlines will pop up on your screen. Whenever we conduct an inquiry, the algorithms that drive the search engines pre-emptively push the items which they think we want. If a person has progressive leanings, then Twitter, Instagram and the likes will channel more materials that reflect one’s liberal viewpoints. How not to be trapped in echo chambers? If the Pharisees are regarded as wilfully blind, then, we are wittingly blinded by our groupthink.

To be able to see better and beyond this blindness, we need to step out. Faith is taking that step beyond our comfort zone. Like the man born blind who risked further ostracisation by responding to the Pharisees. In a way, it requires the courage of humility. Our search algorithms are less omniscient than we perceive them to be. Even though Google is good, still it is not free from bias and prejudice. Wikipedia is good, still it is not wisdom.

The challenge of Jesus to the Pharisee was to be less dogmatic and more compassionate. The example of Albert Einstein is illuminating. He was asked about how he felt of his many achievements. His answer showed a morality which might help us walk towards a more divinely inspired enlightenment. He said, “In formulating so many of these theories, I am not interested that I am proven right. I just want to know if I had been right”.

In many of our discussions or arguments, how often have we entered into them with an arrogance that we possess the truth and as such are ready to hammer those whom we disagree with? Such readiness to force one’s position down the throat of another is glaringly evident when society is infected by ideological divide. Every medium of communication has been co-opted to take sides championed by warring factions that it is impossible to have decent conversations without the arrogance of “being right”.

The Pharisees were certain that they were on the side of right. Whereas if we were to follow Albert Einstein, we become a bit more hesitant in our moral assessment and a little less categorical in our judgement. In defending a position, we would want to know that we have fought for our position with honour, humility and hospitality even if the opposing party does not follow the same rules.

St Ignatius in the Spiritual Exercises says we ought to give the other person a better interpretation, no matter how we feel. Perhaps one can understand why Pope Francis said, “Who am I to judge”? It was not a capitulation of the faculty of judging but in the matter of grace, God can work better if we were less Pharisaical or dogmatic and a bit more charitable. It certainly makes the world feel less certain and more dangerous but we can trust that the Lord’s light cannot be extinguished even by evil men.

In conclusion, the man born blind is a symbol of the struggle between light and darkness. Like the Pharisees who are blinded by their bubble of self-righteousness, we who inhabit a deeply divided, fractured and fragmented world need the light of faith to know who Christ truly is. To be spiritually blind is to dwell in darkness which is why to have both a clearer sight and a deeper insight are constant themes during the season of Lent. In begging for the grace to use the things of the world wisely and to hold on to things that endure eternally, may we come to behold and to follow Christ the only Light who leads us to eternal life.

3rd Sunday of Lent Year A 2023

The Sunday Gospel detours from Matthew to John where a long theological exchange takes place between an observant Jew and a shunned Samaritan Woman. There are two barriers that should have prevented them from having a conversation. Firstly, no devout Jewish man will speak to a woman unchaperoned in public. It would be suspicious to say the least. Secondly, in the eyes of the Jews, the Samaritans have forfeited their right to sit at the “Chosen” table simply because they have taken to the practice of marrying foreigners who soon introduced them to pagan practices. “You a Jew, asking me, a Samaritan, for a drink?”. To have drunk from her water vessel would have rendered Jesus ritually unclean. Jesus simply broke through these social and religious constraints in order to reach the Samaritan woman.

This Sunday we begin with the first of the three Scrutinies. From a catechetical perspective, the dialogue provides an insight into what the period of Lent is in the context of the Easter Sacraments, specifically the Sacrament of Baptism. While the topic of the conversation centred on the basic and human need for water, this necessity is connected to baptism and it is coupled with Christ’s challenge to conversion. Early on in the conversation, she understood that the providence of “living water” was just that. For many of us who turn on the tap without thinking twice, it is understandable that she considered the offer of Jesus literally. Making daily trips to the well in the hot sun is a tiresome chore. More so, she doing it alone suggests that she was an outcast in the community for having one husband too many.

At the end of the dialogue, she was led from acknowledgement of her marital irregularities to a wholesome embrace of her apostolic mission to the people of her village. This prolonged exchange between Jesus and her resulted in her conversion and the freedom to announce that Jesus was the one whom she had been searching for her entire life.

From an existential angle, bodily thirst is symbolic of our human search for the ultimate. In a sense, conversion is a journey that mirrors life’s search for fulfilment. We are not creatures that merely live to eat. We are not mindless munchers even though our current eating habits seem to imply that we are more indiscriminate gourmands than we are discerning gourmets. But if we accept that man eats in order to live, then it makes sense that we must search for proper food to consume. This means life has a purpose than just merely existing to devour.

Many, if not all of us, are symbolised by the Samaritan woman in our yearning for perfect happiness, the elusive living water, that will never leave us thirsty again. We are constantly on the hunt for things in life to gratify us. In many of our misguided and misdirected longings, we settle for things that fulfil us momentarily but in our sane moments, instinctively we recognise that nothing in the world can truly slake the existential thirst in us—not physical pleasure, not possession and not even money itself.

Whether we know it or not, whether we accept it or not, every man, woman and child is looking for the Saviour. We are created with a hunger for the divine. The water at the well was only the beginning of the Samaritan’s search for the ultimate in life. This yearning for the infinite is not a random void or emptiness as if we were just gaping holes waiting to be filled with whatever. In fact, the 2nd Reading reminds us that the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. And more so, “While we were still helpless, at the appointed time Christ died for sinful men. It is not easy to die even for a good man and what proves that God loves us is that Christ died for us while we are still sinners”.

At the well, the Samaritan Woman was not the only one searching for God. He was looking for her even as He is seeking us out now. As Jesus hung on the Cross, He cried out “I thirst”. We have a God who thirsts for humanity’s response. The Man who was thirsty at the well was actually the only one who could slake the thirst of the Samaritan woman. As a Church Father said, “He who needed our help is the Helper Himself”.

The breakthrough came when the Samaritan Woman recognised the Prophet in Jesus. It was as if her eyes were opened to own not only her past but also to imagine a future. From then on, she became a missionary to her own people. In the matter of evangelisation, the converted are often the best missionaries to convince others because of their own experience of God.

As this is the 1st of the Scrutinies, we might mistakenly think that it is an invitation to the catechumens to be encountered by Christ. But Lent is a pilgrimage for all sinners, not just those preparing for baptism. We come to the spring of eternal life to encounter the Christ who thirsts for us. The sad dilemma is that the Church is rather anaemic. Perhaps our enervated missionary spirit, unlike the converted heart of the Samaritan Woman, is simply indicating that we have not been convicted by our experience of Him.

The Woman at the Well is a call to a deep encounter with Christ. How do we meet Him? We are thus directed to one of the central Lenten practices which is prayer. Prayer is crucial not because we can ask from God things we need. Rather, prayer is the well where our thirsty souls can meet Christ the Living Water. Also, we meet Him no less in the Sacraments, notably, Confession and the Eucharist. In every encounter, opening up to Him bears the possibilities of conversion. The well is a call to turn from the distractions of life to the one Person who matters most, the Man who is vital to our longing and the God who is central to our fulfilment and our salvation: Jesus Christ.

2nd Sunday of Lent Year A 2023

We ended last Sunday with an appreciation that there is a cosmic battle in which the human heart is truly a theatre of combat. Christ overcoming temptation gives us hope that with His grace we too can prevail. This Sunday unfolds with another theophany of Christ with His transfiguration on Mount Tabor.

The event provides an opportunity to clarify or to revise what the idea of heaven is.

There are two stories happening at the same time when we speak of The Transfiguration. The familiar one revolves around Peter, James and John. They are brought up the mountain where they witness Jesus changing before their very eyes. Peter especially is mesmerised by this spectacular transformation that he wishes to remain there to construct altars dedicated to Elijah, Moses and Jesus.

The other scene is quite earthy. Jesus refuses to remain atop the mountain. He descends and at the foot of Tabor, the others disciples face an unbelieving crowd disappointed that they cannot perform the same miracle as Jesus who had driven demons out from those possessed. The situation is more chaotic than it is controlled.

Between Peter’s desire to stay at the summit of Tabor and Jesus’ encounter with the disappointed crowed, we can tease out what idea of heaven that some people hold.

Firstly, apart from the mistaken notion that everyone has been immaculately conceived, meaning, it is generally assumed that everyone is innocent because everyone is born good, what has happened is that we may have also settled for an idea of an “earthly” heaven, founded upon this world.

How so?

Recently Roald Dahl (BFG or Fantastic Mr Fox) had his books (Matilda, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) rewritten by his publisher because certain phrases that he had used in the past are now deemed unacceptable as they no longer meet the standards of inclusion, diversity and accessibility. Therefore they have to be rephrased. James Bond too has had a “sensitivity review” to remove racially offensive language and stereotyping.

This development is more evident in the last couple of years as illuminati have had to reach back into history to rewrite or to whitewash parts of our past in order to present a more perfect present in consonant with whichever prevailing political, cultural or social winds are blowing. We are uncomfortable with words or with thoughts currently regarded as unacceptable. It is a type of terra-forming if you like, a kind “heavenising” of our earthly reality as if whitewashing history will magically transform the present into heaven.

In this regard, Jesus’ refusal to remain atop the mountain is important. He resolutely descended because He has informed the Apostles that the destiny of the Son of Man was to suffer at the hands of evil men. His action is a stark reminder that heaven cannot be what we make of it here. We can never create heaven here. Instead heaven is glimpsed through the Transfiguration.

The Son of God in His bedazzling glory has shown us that His divinity is not incompatible with human suffering. This flies in the face of how we have been trying to construct heaven here on earth. It is not a new development. The Tower of Babel represented man’s futile attempt at this enterprise. The same with Socialism a 100 years ago. The Transfiguration challenges the way we conceive of imperfection here on earth.

In the whole process of trying to make heaven here on earth, we have unwittingly embarked upon the process of denying a central truth of our existence. The most painful blemish of temporal reality is death. The outer wrapping of death is suffering. Since death is inevitable, so too will suffering be. For example, euthanasia even though it is called “good death” as translated literally from Greek is actually a denial of suffering and death. The fear of death is that great that some attempt to escape, thinking that by snuffing out life early, they would have escaped the imperfection of our earthly existence. It is a futile attempt to capture heaven through the preservation of youthfulness.

As a result, the word “suffering” sounds agonising and forbidding. It is a fact which we struggle to avoid at all costs. It is important to note that suffering should not be intended for itself, meaning that no one should want to suffer or even desire to suffer. A person who enjoys suffering is disordered. An example is BIID or body integrity identity disorder. A person with this disorder feels that to be healthy, he or she needs to cut off some parts of the body. It is a form of mental illness. Whereas suffering as a natural process happens when cells age and die.

How do we acknowledge this reality of natural suffering as part of our journey in life? Furthermore, how do we reconcile that there are also other forms of suffering which through no fault of ours have landed on our plates? The case of Christ is clear. He would suffer because of man’s sins and not just because of Judas’ betrayal. This was His firm message to the Apostles as He joined them at the foot of Tabor. Divine and sinless, yet He is not preserved from suffering.

The innocent suffering of Christ makes the Transfiguration even more powerful in the sense that we catch a glimpse of heaven, the true heaven and not the one which we intend to establish here. The Transfiguration is an assurance that we will get to that heaven which God has intended for us and in Jesus coming down Tabor, The Transfiguration also reminds us that this pilgrimage to heaven takes us right through the valley of death.

In short, the forthcoming Passion is Christ’s endeavour to humanise our dying so that we may not be afraid of passing through mortality in order to reach the glory of heaven. At the same time, we will be tempted to think that our destiny is a perfect world here on earth, where problems and pain, sickness and suffering, disease and death are banished. That is not our future, no matter how perfect it is. The Transfiguration is a promise as it reveals where our true destiny lies. Our glory is with Jesus Christ in heaven.

1st Sunday of Lent Year A 2023

One of the prayers during the Rite of Anointing of the Sick pleads that the sick person be free from sin and temptation. Just picture in your head an invalid, lying in bed and totally incapacitated and the priest praying that he or she be free from sin and temptation. It feels ridiculous. But is it so?

Temptations are vexatious, burdensome and annoying. Oscar Wilde is quoted to have said, “The only way to overcome temptations is to give in to them”. There is a modicum of truth to this observation because a characteristic of temptation is that it “nags” at you until exhausted, you finally relent and give in. Throughout Lent, the Church, our Holy Mother, bids us to grow in awareness of and in sensitivity to the subtleties of the Devil’s machination who sows discord throughout God’s creation.

Even though the 1st Reading chronicles the Fall of both Adam and Eve, it is not a narrative of despair. Man’s fall is also the beginning of salvation. What the Fall simply describes is our common inheritance. Every single being, even Jesus and Mary who do not inherit the taint of Adam’s sin, is not free from the Devil’s afflictions. But more than the failure of Adam and Eve, anyone who has a relationship with God will necessarily undergo the purification of testing. This explains the sinless Son of God not being spared as the 1st Sunday of Lent opens with His temptations.

The background is quite simple. The relationship between the Father and Son is affirmed in the River Jordan. “This is my beloved Son”. Rightly after His Baptism, Jesus is driven into the desert where His affiliation or Sonship with the Father is purified and deepened. Firstly, Jesus is tempted to exercise His divinity by changing stones to bread to satisfy His human hunger. Secondly, He is tempted to test God’s promise of protection by throwing Himself off from a high point. Finally, He is tempted to embrace the worship of a false god.

Christ’s temptations speak to the heart of our human experience. Temptations belong to our postlapsarian reality. More importantly, the devil knows our weaknesses and he will exploit our vulnerability. However, overcoming every temptation hurled at Him, Jesus shows that it is possible for us to resist the Devil. The Church, through our Lenten self-denial, provides us with the means to help us overcome temptations.

In other words, the reality of temptations is actually a call to return to the life of grace. In the desert, Jesus prayed and during His earthly ministry, counselled the Disciples that “this type of evil can only be defeated by prayer and fasting”. When suggested to satisfy His hunger, He countered the Devil’s deception by insisting that man does not live on bread alone but to hang on to every word of God.

This challenges our way of doing things if we are accustomed to self-reliance. Just like the Israelites in the desert, we are also tempted to rely on our own strength and ultimately, for our salvation, we believe that we can save ourselves. Pride is not the only reason for this inward turn. Our self-reliance reveals our forgetfulness. We have forgotten that we are truly creatures dependent on God.

The temptations in the desert manifest the limitations of creatureliness. Notice how the devil enticed Eve to go beyond her creaturehood? The temptation of Jesus to exercise His power is also an inducement to rebel against His human nature. Satan offers a patently false suggestion that freedom is independence from God.

We too find ourselves in the same dilemma where we want to be someone. We forget that to be someone is really an exercise in which we are defined in terms of others. “I am me because I am not you”. In fact, relationship is the identity of creatureliness. By putting the Devil in his place, Jesus demonstrated His relationship with God the Father by not testing Him but by acknowledging and worshipping Him alone.

This Lent we are invited back to the relationship we have with God. It began at our Baptism. Even though we mature physically, some of us may be stunted in our spiritual development. If our Lenten practices are to mean anything, they re-establish our relationship with God and with others. Even though we are sinners, Lent is not designed to make us feel bad that we are sinful or prone to sin. As such, penance is not an exercise in self-loathing. Instead, they symbolise the desire to repair our relationship with God. Penitence is an exercise in the ordered love of ourselves. For example, making time for confession is part of this endeavour because it recognises that the relationship with God needs repairing.

The road to proper self-love and relationship with God will be filled with temptations. But to be tempted is never a sign that we are forsaken or abandoned. Instead the presence of temptation signals that we do have a relationship with God. Thus, the prayer for the sick person during anointing illustrates how insidious temptation can be. An ill person may be suffering excruciatingly, and yet that person is also not free from being tempted. A dying person can be seduced not to trust in God. Hence, the invocation makes much sense because an invalid, even though that person is very near to death, needs strength to continue believing in God.

In summary, the Temptations of Christ reveal a facet of Christianity which we may have forgotten or ignored. As long as we walk through this valley of death, there will be seductions, allurements and entrapments. There is an open rebellion against God and since we are made to crown God’s creation, placed higher than even celestial beings, it makes sense that some envious angels would set out to destroy the pinnacle of God’s creation. Moreover, as creatures endowed with freedom, the temptation is always to go against the rule or governance of God.[1]

Temptation is our reality. Sometimes we may lament like Job. Why? Why am I being tested so sorely? If we are entitled, naturally we will be annoyed that we are being afflicted. But if we accept that there is a cosmic battle at play, then we shall never be surprised by our testing because the path to salvation is fraught with temptations. And a tell-tale sign that you are on the right track is when you are beset by temptations. Overcoming temptations is a basic component in the passage of purification. Through the battles with temptations, our relationship with God is purified as Jesus was in the desert. If we are going to hell, Devil does not need to work hard. Therefore, temptations indicate that we are on the right path for the closer we are to God, the more the subtle the temptations. The nearer we are to salvation, the greater the seductions. Be watchful. Be prepared. The violence of our temptations is Satan’s strategy to make us lose hope. But trust in God. Christ has conquered. He has prevailed. He will provide the strength. If we fail, humbly go for confession. He is ready to forgive, He is there to grant the stamina of grace.


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[1] The problem is that our linear computational thinking has not only ignored but relativised “evil” to the point of non-existence. We have difficulty grasping the concept of evil. Evil does not exist, meaning to say that there is no such a thing as evil. Instead evil is the privation of good. Even though evil does not exist, privation does have a reality. Evil as the absence of good renders its effect as a “vacuum sucking out the good”.

7th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 2023

In a few days we will be entering Lent. As it is, we are still within the ambit of the Sermon on the Mount. We had the Beatitudes, the Law and now we venture further onto the path of perfection. As Jesus Himself said, “I have come to fulfil the Law”. To fulfil the Law is to embrace its spirit and to live it to the fullest expression possible.

It makes sense since the 1st Reading lays the foundation for our behaviour to resemble the God who is holy. Holiness is not measured by being “better than thou” but to reflect who God truly is—holy. In the 2nd Reading, Paul places our holy behaviour within the context of the “Temple” meaning that our body has been sanctified which elevates it into the new temple where God’s Spirit resides. In the Gospel, Jesus invites His disciples further into the way of perfection and there appears to be a movement from the Old Testament to the New Testament in which being holy is expressed through action. From resembling God who is Holy to imitating the Father who is perfect.

To flow from who we are to how we should behave, Jesus places our behaviour in the context of loving one’s enemies. What should characterise our relationship or lack of with our enemies? If we follow Jesus, the jump from “lex talionis” to offering no resistance is indeed a giant leap. To say the least, such an ideal is next to impossible.

Why do we find it hard to love our enemies? A noble gesture such as to forgive our enemies is rendered unappealing when there is a confusion in our use of language. In the past, good was basically good. If we were to follow what it means to be good, as portrayed in movies, we catch glimpses of goodness like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music. Goodness is wholesome and it is the same description we find too in our hagiographies. What has happened is an inversion of values in which the good needs to be seen through the optics of bad. For example, it is not good enough to merely state something is good. Instead, “badass” is now the new good. If not badass, then perhaps we hear a foodie describing a gastronomic preparation as “sinfully good”. If not sinfully good, “wicked” just means good. Maybe the kind of goodness epitomised by Julie Andrews is too pure or unattainable and simple saying that a dish is good is too boring and does not seem adequate.

Words like badass, wicked or sinfully good make it hard to grasp what being noble and magnanimous should entail. Instead it makes it easier to embrace the ethos of the anti-hero. An anti-hero is a person with questionable character and whose moral compass does not point to the North. Anti-heroes fascinate us because they resemble us with all their faults. If the definition of a hero is someone who strives to be and to do good, then the normative and accepted behaviour for a hero is the moral congruence between means and ends. The goal is achieved through moral means. Whereas for anti-heroes, it does not matter if the road taken is immoral. Whatever means is acceptable as long as the goal is achieved. This type of moral fluidity justifies uninspiring behaviour.

On one level, this problematic is really a symptom that we no longer believe that heaven is worth our sacrificing or dying for. On another level, it does not matter if one should be good because everyone deserves heaven. Anti-heroism validates our mediocrity in not striving for a life of noble excellence.

The path of perfection proposed by Jesus requires a striving on our part and a commitment. To love our enemy is hard enough but to do good to those who hate us is indeed a painful calling. In order to transcend our natural repulsion towards our enemy, we must begin with heroic virtues. In our daily life, it is as simple as denial of ourselves through fasting. It is as simple as focusing on God through regular praying. It is as simple as caring for others who are less fortunate than we are. These may be small and inconsequential actions, but daily practice of them prepares the soul for the more profound action of self-sacrifice even of our lives.

Together with heroic virtues, we need a clearer vision of the good. It is true that life is incredibly messy but the acknowledgement of this reality is not its canonisation. Just because life is confusing is not an excuse for acedia, inaction or inertia. In fact, the messiness of life is a powerful reminder that an alternative vision is possible. For that, we have to overcome a phobia we have, which is to commit ourselves to a higher vision of good, of heaven and of God.

There is good to defend. There is a heaven to aim for. And there is God to believe in. In a realm without God, we will always be looking for justice in this world but never finding it. Or we will never be satisfied. We will be condemned in an elusive search for the perfect justice, thus making the love of enemies much more difficult, let alone praying for them. Without God as guarantor, we will hesitate because if we do good and if there is no heaven, then all the good we have done would have been wasted. If we are not convinced that there is a heaven where justice can be finally rendered, then loving one’s enemy will be an uphill climb, and it will never be a part of what means to be a Christian.

We are not without a way out of this conundrum. Jesus Himself provided the means to overcoming this resistance. Through the heroic exercise of our virtues, we too can follow Him. As Jesus mentioned in the Gospel, to love our enemy and to do good, begin by lifting them up in prayer. Ask God not for punishment or even justice for them but for blessing upon them. Bless their souls with every conceivable blessing because they need it. Think of a person who does not deserve your forgiveness. As you continue blessing him or her, the anger in your heart will melt because it is impossible to bless a person and hold on to hatred at the same time. The act of blessing an enemy will yield a sense of peace and we dare to bless because we have a God whom we can trust. He guarantees that in the end, everything will work out according to His plans. The passage to perfection is not impossible to ascend because it is the same path that the Lord Himself walked. Our perfection comes through the imitation of Christ who was able to forgive even those who killed Him.

6th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 2023

As a parish priest, one routinely conducts prenuptial enquiries for Catholics preparing to get married. More and more, Catholics are having difficulties finding spouses of the same faith. We have Mixed Marriages which describe the union between a baptised Catholic and baptised non-Catholic. By and large, many of our marriages consist of the type known as the Disparity of Cult or Worship, meaning that a baptised Catholic is marrying a non-baptised. In the process of the interview, I would often remark to the non-Catholic party that marrying a Catholic comes with an extra burden. The Catholic spouse is bound by the laws of the Church. This brings us into the heart of this week’s Gospel.

What roles do ecclesiastical laws play in the life of a Catholic? How do we appreciate them?

The background to the Gospel is a continuation of the Sermon on the Mount. We already have a framework for the Kingdom in the Beatitudes and now Jesus gives more meat to the way we interpret the Law. With regard to how we follow the Law, in the Book of Ecclesiasticus, Ben Sirach stressed the reality of human freewill. We do have a choice but having the ability to choose does not equate willy-nilly to doing what we want. Freedom has consequences.

Is it possible to hear that joy comes from following the laws of God? In the case of the Gospel, Jesus referred to the 10 Commandments, the set of rules we are familiar with. We hear Jesus excoriating the Pharisees and the Scribes, not because they keep the Law but because they would interpret it according to their whims and fancies. This is nothing new because we recognise the same inconsistency in those who legislate but exclude themselves from having to follow the same rules. As they say: “rules for thee but not for me”. Jesus was never against the Law but rather against a hypocrisy of imposing on others the burden that the lawgivers themselves cannot shoulder.

Given that we have a Bohemian inclination, we tend to regard laws as restrictions rather than as an encouragement towards greater freedom. Our mindset will determine how we perceive laws as a blessing or a burden. If our attitude towards laws is minimalist, then we will easily resent that we have been imposed upon. We chafe whenever our personal autonomy is curtailed.

Coming back to the example of marriage and the laws pertaining to the covenant, when asked what is most important in a marriage, the usual reply is love. When love is paramount, who is the Church impose? There is a rule for Catholics that children are to be baptised and brought up in the faith. The Catholic must declare that he or she will not defect and do what is necessary to ensure that children are brought up in the faith. The usual argument against this requirement: “Where is the freedom of an individual to choose his or her religion?”. Let the child grow up so that he or she can choose what to believe.

There is an inconsistency in the application of what we regard as an individual’s self-determination. Where is freedom to choose when it comes to schools or health regimen? Parents routinely choose the school for their children. When they are sick, for example, with dengue, no parent would ever say “Wait till the child turns 21 for him or her to decide to go hospital”. Immediately the baby is sent to the best hospital with no expenses spared. So much for the right to choose.

The laws of Christ in the Church are meant to foster freedom to be better children of God. Prohibition always sounds restrictive until we realise that negative formulations draw the boundaries where we should not transgress. We love our neighbours by not stealing their wives or property, by not slandering or killing them. The problem with positive laws is that we cannot legislate how to be good. We can only draw the boundaries of how we cannot be bad. Our attitude determines how we embrace God’s laws. A minimalist attitude means sticking to the bare minimum. But in love, there is no compulsion which makes obligation the lowest form of love. Which would you prefer? Having a rule that your child kisses you goodnight. Or the child spontaneously gives you a hug and a peck on the cheek every night?

It is true that laws need to be updated to accommodate changing situations, circumstances and pastoral demands. Should we relax the laws with regard to marriage and divorce? Should we be more flexible than viewing marriage as a covenant only between a man and a woman? Or should we just change the terms of reference for marriage to basically a bond between two loving persons? Some of the changes asked for by present society strike directly at the heart of who we are. Are we subject to the laws of nature or do we break away from the limits imposed by creation? These are some of our challenges. Some Church leaders may have caved in to the demands of relevance.

Circumstances shift as they often do. But the variation in the laws cannot be based on the principle that the “old” or the past is bad and the “new” or the latest is good. In terms of product branding and commerce, the latest is always the updated. In technological advances too. We perceive the new as always the better. However, in terms of laws that govern us, the referent cannot be the latest or the newest. Instead, change should always be in consonant with the Creator’s intention. If we accept that God is the Creator, then we must guide our change according to His logic of creation. Otherwise, we will be subject to the tyranny of the fashionable. Right now the fad is to change one’s gender according to one’s preference. Hailee Steinfeld, the actress in Pitch Perfect 2 suggested that it is OK if you wanna change the body that you came in. Anyone who argues that there is no logic of creation, that is, nature has no laws, must realise the shakiness of this position. The very fact that we decry “inhumane laws” is already a tacit recognition that laws must respect the bounds of nature, that is, what it means to be human.

To update our laws, listening to the Spirit is important. When individual freedom and self-expression are priority, then listening to God might be a bit more difficult. Adhering to God’s laws means recognising that His laws supersede our demands. Not everything which is possible within our capacity has the morality of permissibility. I have the capacity to kill does not mean I have a right to kill. I have the possibility of having sexual relationship does not mean I have the right to sleep with whoever I want.

When God set Adam and Eve in the Garden, He drew certain restrictions based on who they were. Man has been created for a life with God when translated must include obeying these restrictions. But when individual autonomy becomes the guiding principle of life, then appreciating God’s laws will be challenging. When God’s laws are perceived to limit our freedom, then it is God who needs to bow to our freedom. Indeed the rules of engagement have changed. Now we demand that God change His Laws or lower the bars so that we can go to heaven, instead of we changing so that He can let us into heaven.