Political Correctness - This is unacceptable!

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time -Year C

Last week, we saw Jesus begin his public ministry by preaching in the synagogue of Nazareth. He stacked up brownie points for his gracious and inspiring words, words that promised healing and liberation. Things rapidly and dramatically changed when he began to challenge their ideas and convictions. Jesus reminded them that God’s salvation is accorded to Gentiles too, not just Jews. They were not so elite, not so chosen, and not so exclusively special. Their prideful expectations were subjected to a humiliating reality check and this enraged them, so much so that they wanted to throw Him headlong over a cliff. No sweet comforting words here, just the plain painful Truth.

This reaction is to be expected. Isn’t it quite natural that when we hear words pleasing to us, we accept them, but when they disturb our consciences we might well dismiss them as worthless. There are people who choose a church where they can experience good feelings from warm and fuzzy words, nothing disturbing nor demanding should pass the lips of the pastor. Today, we are reminded that it is true that the gospel of Jesus Christ is a great word of consolation and refreshment, but it can also be harsh and demanding, as Jesus himself could be harsh and demanding. Our “precious” Saviour is also the unpopular Prophet who confronts sin and challenges our preconceived notions of salvation and prejudices.

Many, including leaders in the Church, are subjected to the temptation of preaching the gospel shaped by political correctness. We shy away from making difficult gospel-based demands of the people while choosing to tamper not just their words but inevitably the values that underlie those words. Political correctness always seeks to preserve a good image whilst attempting not to offend anyone. And it is never too difficult to offend someone in today’s age. When we speak of Jesus as the Son of God, we risk offending other faiths; when we quote from St Paul we risk being labeled a misogynist (woman-hater); when we refer to ourselves as the People of God we risk being accused of being religious bigots; when we rail against abortion, we risk being judged as being unsympathetic to the plight of the women; and when we speak of the institutions of marriage and family, we risk excluding those who practice alternative lifestyles. The end of this ideology is that there are no absolutes, no absolute moral norms, no absolute Truths. In fact, political correctness seems to be the antithesis of truth. Political correctness seeks never to offend, while Truth always carries with it the potential for offense. But the truth is that Jesus did offend many people. He offended his hometown, he offended his family, he offended the leaders, he offended the crowds, he offended his own disciples. Too often we are so preoccupied with trying to avoid offending anyone, we end up offending God. Jesus once taught, “Blessed is he who does not take offense in me” (Luke 7:23). Looks like the pundits of political correctness had forgotten this last bit in trying to please the whole world, all and sundry, except the only one who matters.

Proponents of political correctness would often argue that Truth is divisive, in that divides the community. They feel that many well intentioned Catholics, though divorced and remarried, living in irregular unions, dissenters of Church teachings, should not be made to feel as if they are excluded and isolated. Truth is perceived as intolerant and a serious barrier to community cohesion and inclusiveness. They are convinced that love includes and should never exclude. But if the Church is to make room for everyone, it may mean having no room for the Truth. By definition, truth does separate – it separates the truth from falsehood. It divides those who want to know the truth from those who do not want to know. Thus, Jesus sitting in judgment divides the goats from the sheep. Truth is indeed intolerant but its intolerance is directed to lies and sin which seeks to hide behind the cover of euphemisms. In fact, Truth in itself is not divisive. It does not spell the absence of love. It is people who become divisive when they are unwilling to accept the truth.  

Many would lament that the Church is losing many of its members because they feel that her demands are too rigorous and her teachings too hard. This is a common argument cited in favour of greater accommodation – making Christianity softer and its message more palatable for a wider consumption. The myth is that people will stay with the Church if she makes it easier for them to do so, which means amending not just Church laws but even gospel values and teachings so that the Church can be seen to be more inclusive. But statistics of membership patterns among liberal Protestant denominations show otherwise. Some Protestant denominations like the Anglicans have been making accommodations over the years, but they have not been able to stem the trend of decline. In fact, these politically correct churches have been accused by their own members of being so busy in accommodating other people’s views they have forgotten to put forward their own claim, which is the gospel of Jesus Christ. In their obsession to be politically correct, they have forgotten what it means to be Christ-correct. When we sacrifice truth at the altar of popularity, we risk not only losing our edge and identity, but also damning ourselves and others to perdition.

Today, political correctness has become a substitute for God in unbelievers and a poor substitute of the gospel to those who truly require liberation from a culture of half-truths, manipulated information and outright lies. What is more worrisome is that there is an inherently religious aspect to political correctness. It reduces everything to human accomplishment whilst downplaying and even disregarding the sacred. In other words, political correctness substitutes man for God. Many, if not most of the problems in this world today are the results of people rejecting the true God and replacing Him with a false god of good feelings that Political Correctness gives them. The antidote for Political Correctness is the Real Thing, Jesus Christ. Christ is not some esoteric good feeling we get from politically correct words; He will actually fill the yearning we have for God.

There is an urgent need to recover our nerve as Christians. We do not need to be obsessed with walking on egg-shells in attempting not to offend others, especially when this means offending God and betraying the Truth which he wishes to communicate to the world. Christians, who hold firm the gospel of Christ, are bound to offend others. We don’t have to feel embarrassed about our faith. We do not need to apologise for being Christians or for believing that Jesus is the unique and universal Saviour of the World and that He is the Truth, the Way and the Life. Although apologies are not needed, apologetics is most necessary – we need to give a reasonable explanation for our faith; we need to defend Jesus not just with reasonable arguments but also with our lives. We must never mistake our witnessing of Christ for arrogance. It is a demand of faith and love. It is time to step out of the shadow of political correctness and speak the Truth with Love. The Pope reminds us that Love and Truth are not antithetical but rather Love or charity is always in service of the Truth and that Truth springs from the well-spring of Love. To separate the two would only spell disaster – it could lead either to a politically correct gospel devoid of its essential truth or its opposite, a harsh demeaning religion that does not know the meaning of love nor compassion. We must, therefore, never forget that on the Last Day, we will be judged by Christ, who is both the Saviour and Judge of the world, guided by what is acceptable to God and not by the common vote of a jury of peers dictated by what is acceptable to man.

A Word worth listening

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

There was a time when academic performance was the conclusive benchmark of intelligence. You were either graded as excellent, good, average, below average or just simply stupid (Ok, the last one was my addition). Then experts in pedagogical sciences and gurus of motivation began telling us that some of us who didn’t make the marks weren’t really stupid. Apart from IQ, you also had the benefit of EQ. It was music to the ears to learn how this had now leveled the playing field. These experts argued that it all came down to learning styles. To learn, we depend on our senses to process the information around us. Most people tend to use one of their senses more than the others. Therefore, there are generally three types of learning styles based on different modes of acquiring information: auditory (hearing), visual (seeing) and kinaesthetic (using hands or action).  Some educationist would also insist that the learning capacity increases as we move from auditory methods to kinaesthetic, thus the auditory style is regarded as the least effective. This is best articulated in the Chinese saying, “I hear and I forget, I see and I remember, I do and I understand.”

Today’s readings remind us that Christians, following the tradition of the Jews and the Hebrews before them, are intentionally auditory. But this does not mean that the Judeo-Christian culture is inferior to others which emphasised ‘doing’. Israel was a nation of prophets, not philosophers. Prophets listen to God. Philosophers envision. For the Greek philosopher, intellectual understanding came through the eye. For the Hebrew prophet, it came through the ear. The eye sees and dissects. The ear, on the other hand, hears and obeys. The Hebrews began their scriptures by saying that God spoke and all came into existence. The most fundamental statement of the Law (Dt 6:4), begins with the words, “Hear” or “Listen”.  The logic of the Hebrew scriptures is the logic of revelation. God is the cause; we are the result. The Lord speaks and his word has effect. In the logic of revelation, the most illogical thing is to refuse to listen to the Voice of God. To refuse to listen is to refuse to participate in what God is doing. The prophets called it rebellion. Thus we call evil irrational.

It is interesting to note that the etymology of the word ‘obedience’, which comes from the Latin ‘obedire’, or in the original Biblical languages, Hebrew (shema) and Greek (hupakouo), means to listen. Perhaps, this is one of the reasons why listening is so under-rated in today’s society that places ‘doing’ or activism as the benchmark of achievement. In a “just do it” culture, the whole notion of obedience seems absurd and even anachronistic. Everything in our culture resists obedience, because we are made to feel that any loss of control over self-fulfillment is a loss of self. Because of the emphasis placed on freedom, self-will, autonomy and personal determination, obedience does little to suggest a good life. From a marketing perspective, obedience is a hard sell, especially because the very notion of obedience seems to be a suffocation of life rather than the promotion of it.

Yet obedience is a core element of the gospel, a primary dimension of Jesus’ life and relationship with his Father, but also of what it means to a Christian. Jesus is the wholly obedient one. "He humbled Himself becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross" (Phil. 2:8) and "through the obedience of the One, the many will be made righteous" (Rom. 5:19). Jesus not only listened and obeyed the word of God, He totally identified with it - He is the Word. Thus at the end today’s gospel, he could confidently announced that he is the fulfillment of the prophetic word. For many centuries the Hebrews strained to listen to the Word of God through their prophets, but then the Word came even closer. The Word became flesh.  Humanity was allowed to see the Word, not as a written word, but a living Word.

Unfortunately, many often reduce obedience to just a matter of following rules and conforming to obligations. Today’s readings remind us that obedience is more about an encounter with the Living Word, Jesus. It is more about effective listening than blind obedience to dead letter of the law. It means getting in touch with the voice and life of the Spirit. The three readings provide us with different levels of listening.

In the first reading, we read about the reconstruction of the moral and religious fibre of a foundering nation that has lost not only its independence but also its integrity. The foundation of this reconstruction would be the Law, which is the name given by Jews to their scriptures. As they listened attentively to the words of their holy book being read by Ezra the scribe, the crowd was moved not only to tears but ultimately to worship. For them, the Law was not just a set of religious and moral rules and obligations, it was the voice of God, the God that had not abandoned them, the God who was now restoring their fortune. Thus the first level of listening is listening to God, a listening which inspires worship, a listening that inspires conversion, and a listening that demands obedience and surrender to the sovereignty of God.

The second reading proposes a second level of listening. In obedience we also listen to the voice of the Church, the Body of Christ. In the face of the human heart’s tendency towards narcissism, individualism and exclusiveness more than towards the needs of the other, obedience as attentive listening to the other members of the Body of Christ frees us to live for the other and become an integral part of the family we call Church. Obedience can challenge our worldviews and prejudices which often filters our perception of God’s will.

Finally, the gospel speaks of the third level of listening – listening to the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalised. By citing a text from Isaiah, Luke attempts to explain Jesus’ mission as a proclamation of gladness for the poor, liberty for the captives, sight for the blind, release for prisoners and a year of favour for all. These categories are often regarded by the larger society as invisible, thus not deserving its attention or time. The rich and the powerful have our ears, but not the poor. Thus, the cries of the poor are a great corrective to our self-importance, selfishness and pride. If our heart’s desires are gifts from God, then listening to the cries of the poor reveals the demands these gifts make on us. Any Christian life which does not listen to the voice of the poor effectively shuts out the voice of God.

Christ’s powerful words spoken to us at Mass are meant to change things, to change us, to change the hearts and the lives of all who hear them. Reading along and listening attentively are very different activities and have very different results. Most people would prefer reading. We are independent of the lector who proclaims the Word. Reading allows us to set the pace and affords an opportunity to analyse the text. In a certain way, we continue to assert mastery over the word. But we are a people called to ‘listen.’ Listening makes us uncomfortable because we strain to listen not just with our ears but also with our hearts. Listening treats the word in a personal way, rather than just a subject to be studied. Listening is relational. Thus, we listen to God, we do not read or study him. In listening, we make no demands of the Word – we merely listen, embrace the Word and obey. We seek not to substitute the Word with our words. But rather we allow the Word to form, challenge, comfort and finally consume us.

Virtue of Obedience

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Protestants often accuse Catholics of idolising Mary. One of the bible passages cited by Protestants to defend such claimed could be found in today's Gospel reading - the wedding feast at Cana. The Gospel of John tells us that it was Mary who first notices that the wine had run short at the wedding feast and that it is she who alerted Jesus to this embarrassing situation. She entrusts a human need to his power – to a power which is more than skill and human ability. The Church sees in this simple action the intercessory role of Our Lady. “They have no wine.” But Jesus then seems to respond with a rebuke, a point often highlighted by Protestants, “Woman, why turn to me? My hour has not yet come!”

You may wonder why would Jesus addressed His mother as “woman”? We would return to this question shortly. But first let us look at the “hour” of Christ. Christ’s “hour” is the time at which He is betrayed, arrested, and killed: the moment of His greatest agony and greatest glory. That’s what He is referring to each and every time that He mentions “His hour,” and it’s what He’s warning her about. To say that His hour has not yet come is to indicate that Jesus follows a different schedule, not one set by men or re-shaped by contingencies.  Jesus never acts completely alone, and never the for the sake of pleasing others. The Father is always the starting point of his actions, and this is what unites him to Mary, because she wished to make her request in this same unity of will with the Father. So, what appears to be a rebuke to the undiscerning eye may actually be an invitation – an invitation to submit obediently to the will of God.

Our Lady responds in obedience to the Son’s total obedience. She immediately tell the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.” She doesn't tell Jesus “They have a problem, fix it.” She does not insist or demand. She doesn’t chart out a course of action for Jesus, much less specify the manner in which Jesus must resolve the problem.  She leaves everything to the Lord’s judgment. This is how she teaches us to pray: not by seeking to assert before God our own will and our own desires, however important they may be, but rather to bring them before him and to let him decide what he intends to do. Obedience to God’s will is a necessary condition for prayer. She tells the servants to do what she herself would willingly do, “Do whatever he tells you.” These words carry much weight and significance because they are the last recorded words of Mary in the gospels. Thereafter, she observes a “vow of silence” throughout the gospel narrative and doesn’t even break it at the foot of the cross. Her last words would be her defining moment. It would mark her entire life’s mission – obedience to the will of God. With these last words, she sets the ball rolling for the rest of the story of her Son, His performing the first sign that would reveal His mission and His glory.

It is now that we return to the manner in which Jesus addresses his mother. Instead of a more courteous, “Mother”, she is greeted with the title, “Woman.”  As much as this seems to be a callous way of addressing one’s own mother, the title really expresses Mary’s place in salvation history. It serves to point to the future and to the past. It points to the future, to the “hour” of crucifixion, when Jesus will say to her: “Woman behold your Son …” It anticipates the hour when he will make the woman, His Mother, the Mother of all his disciples. It points to the birth of the Church at the foot of the Cross. It is also points to that mysterious “woman,” who is at the centre of the great cosmic battle between the forces of heaven and those led by the monstrous dragon (Rev 12:1) in which the forces of heaven would prove victorious.

On the other hand, the title also looks to the past, to the very beginning of the Bible. In the creation story only the name of God is spoken. The first man and woman are identified not by name but as “the man” and “the woman.” Only later are they given the names Adam and Eve.  In his “new creation” story, the evangelist St John wants us to see Mary as the New Eve. At Cana, the New Eve radically reverses the decision of the first Eve. The first woman led the first Adam to commit his first evil act in the garden, an act of disobedience. At Cana, the new woman leads Jesus, the New Adam, to perform His first glorious work, work done in total obedience to the Father. The first Eve counselled Adam to defy God and eat the fruit. The New Eve brings the people’s needs to her Son and teaches the people to obey Him in faith – “Do whatever He tells you.” The first Eve was “the mother of all the living beings.” By teaching the disciples and servants to believe in Jesus, the new Eve becomes the mother of the Church – “the children of God.”

At the heart of the story of the Wedding Feast at Cana, therefore, is the story of obedience, the story of how this single virtue has restored the covenant broken by man’s disobedience. Disobedience leads to fruitlessness, to empty caskets and goblets. Obedience leads to fruitfulness, where the Lord would provide flowing wine that will never run out. Here in this story, we see the Son who sets aside his personal agenda and obediently submits to the will of the Father. We see the Woman, the Mother, who puts aside her need to be in charge of things and submits obediently to her son. It was through disobedience that man lost paradise, and it is now through obedience that a far better Paradise is restored.   

But the difficulty with obedience is that it is a matter assented to more often by the intellect than the will. After all, obedience is difficult; if it were easy, everyone would be doing it. Fortunately both Jesus and Mary are models for our obedience. Jesus reminds His disciples that “the world must learn that I love the Father and that I do exactly what my Father has commanded me” (John 14:31). Love is the key to obedience. In this light, “Do whatever he tells you” should not be seen as a legalistic call to tediously obey an all-powerful master. Rather, Mary’s words reflect the heart of a bride in love with her bridegroom. She obeys perfectly because she loves perfectly. Representing the faithful of Israel, Mary invites the servants, the disciples, and all of us to run after our Bridegroom’s desires, ardently seeking to fulfil whatever He wants of us. When there is no compulsion in love, obedience comes easily.

Mary’s continuous faithfulness in the Gospel is critical for salvation history. Time and again, she willingly accepts the plan of God: she brings Christ into the world in the Incarnation, helps to lead Him into His public ministry at the Wedding of Cana; and follows Him to the Cross. Her first and her last words has always been an unconditional ‘Yes’ to the Lord. Mary's example makes it clear that obedience is not a virtue done out of fear — or drudgery. Because she trusted and loved God, she was able to obey Him resolutely. Through her, we learn the loving consequence of obedience since her obedience brought the Saviour of mankind into the world, it is obedience that will lead us to salvation!

New birth, a new beginning in life

The Baptism of the Lord -Year C

If you ever get the chance to visit my parish, Church of Our Lady of Lourdes, Klang, you would notice that the baptismal font has become a permanent fixture in the sanctuary. If you come close and have a look at the baptismal font from the top, you would realised that it takes the shape of an octagon. I think that many Malaysians would easily associate the octagonal shape to the Chinese custom of hanging an octagonal shaped mirror above their door post – it serves the dual purpose of warding off evil entities as well as channelling and welcoming good health and fortune. Well, the shape of the baptismal font doesn’t serve the same function. Thank God!

For Jews the number eight symbolised salvation, rebirth and regeneration: eight members of Noah's family were saved in the time of the Great Flood and it was on the eighth day of his life that a male child was circumcised, signifying his entrance into the covenant family of Israel, the chosen people of God.  But for early Christians eighth came to be associated with the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the formation of the New Covenant.  Jesus was raised on the day after the seventh day, which was the Sabbath, making Jesus’ Resurrection on the eighth day. Therefore, Sunday, the first day of the week, is also the day of the New Creation just as the old Creation also began on what is the first day of the week.  St Augustine called Sunday, “the Day of the Lord,” as “an everlasting eighth day.”

The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms the significance of the number 8 for Christians in article # 349: “The eighth day.  But for us a new day has dawned: the day of Christ's Resurrection.  The seventh day completes the first creation.  The eight day begins the new creation.  Thus, the work of creation culminates in the greater work of redemption.  The first creation finds its meaning and its summit in the new creation in Christ, the splendour of which surpasses that of the first creation.”

But the resurrection of Christ has not only brought about a new day with its new light. We too have become a new creation. How did this come about? Through the sacrament of baptism and the profession of faith, the Lord has built a bridge across to us, through which the new day reaches us. The Lord says to the newly-baptised: Fiat lux — let there be light. God’s new day — the day of indestructible life, comes also to us. Christ takes you by the hand. From now on you are held by him and walk with him into the light, into real life.

Baptism is something quite different from an act of ecclesial socialisation, from a slightly old-fashioned and complicated rite for receiving people into the Church. It is more than becoming part of a community. Baptism is also more than a simple washing, more than a kind of purification and beautification of the soul. It is a new birth. A new beginning in life. It is a new creation! It is truly death and resurrection, rebirth, transformation to a new life. Therefore, in baptism we experience what St Paul writes in his letter to the Galatians, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me!” St Paul can say this with so much conviction because in Baptism we give ourselves over to Christ — he takes us unto himself, so that we no longer live for ourselves, but through him, with him and in him; so that we live with him and thus for others.

Baptism, then, makes us new creatures, it bestows on us the blessings promised to Abraham, it releases us from the slavery of sin and brings us into new life, it brings us into the new wedding covenant between God and his people redeemed in Christ, it quenches our spiritual thirst for God, it gives the wisdom that enlightens our path to God, it purifies us and gives us a new heart and a new spirit, it crucifies our old self and our sinful body and raises us up from the dead, and, finally, it is our share in Christ’s death, in his victory over death and in his resurrection.

Today the church celebrates the baptism of Our Lord. Instead of torrential rains and floods, instead of destructive fire and brimstone, we hear the voice of God the Father and we see a glimpse of the most profound mystery of faith, the innermost centre of God’s life, the manifestation of the Most Holy Trinity. No, not fire and brimstone, not a flood, but a dove, a sign of peace, divine forgiveness and reconciliation. Not a booming voice of God announcing the wrath and judgment of God over sinful humanity but an affirming voice of love and paternal charity. “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.”

So what did the tearing apart of heaven reveal? First, it revealed that there is no longer an impassable barrier that separates man from God. This the amazing good news that we heard on Christmas day and is now manifested to the world at the Baptism of the Lord. Jesus is the sign of God’s conciliation. He is truly God’s righteous Beloved Son. True God and true man. God in man made manifest. It’s as if Jesus, the Beloved Son, the only one who could truly claim to be free from sin, holy and righteous, now stands in the gap between sinful humanity and a Just God. Instead of seeing the sinfulness of man, the real cause for the separation between God and man, God instead sees his righteous Son, the new Adam. Whatever cause for His divine displeasure and wrath, which is truly just, dissipates. His Beloved Son stands in the gap and shields humanity from the death, judgment and destruction it deserves. For the holy Son of God would take on himself the sins and the guilt of all mankind.

And so at our baptism, when we are united with the death and resurrection of Christ, God removes the barriers separating sinners from him and him from sinners so that mistakes, rebellion, guilt, and shame no longer keep people from God. Instead, we now share in that divine favour of being the beloved ones of God. God does all this because of his Son Jesus.

We’re here today because we know heaven is open. And the good news is that the tear has not been repaired. Heaven’s graces is still leaking, nay, it is still invading this earth. Now heaven is torn open when the heart of a sinner turns from sin to grace. Now heaven is torn open when the Word of God is read. Now heaven is torn open every time a baby or adult is baptised. Heaven is torn open each time we come before the Lord’s altar and receive the body and blood of Jesus in His holy Sacrament. Heaven is open, and God gives us His Holy Spirit. And because Jesus is our Saviour and has washed away our sins and made us His brothers and sisters, our God says about us, “You are My son, or My daughter, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” And when we die, we will truly see heaven torn open as God’s holy angels come down to escort our spirits into His presence – until the day heaven is really torn open, when our Saviour comes in His glory with all His holy angels to judge the earth.

Heaven on Earth

Feast of Dedication of St. John Cathedral, Kuala Lumpur

Today, we celebrate the feast of Dedication of St. John Cathedral. At St John’s, the liturgy takes the rank of a solemnity and for the rest of the Archdiocese of Kuala Lumpur, it is to be celebrated as a feast day—still a rank higher than a memorial. We celebrate the dedication of a cathedral not because it is a building but because the building symbolises the seat of authority. The word “cathedra” and the word “see” are synonymous. A “cathedra” is a chair and the word “see” is derived from the Latin for seat, “sedes”. In short, it is a day to take pride in the authority of the Bishop. 

The celebration of the dedication or consecration of a building, even though it may be of a church, seems strange and anachronistic to many of us. This risks being seen as some form of architectural idolatry. Are we worshipping a building, rather than worshipping in a building? The fact that the liturgy of the anniversary of this dedication takes precedence over our Sunday liturgy reinforces this suspicion. We have perhaps been told in the past that the Church is not a building but in reality a community of believers, thus a church building seems only secondary to our identity. Such an explanation seems to say it’s more about the “people” than about the “building,” which explains the common caution from good-willed people that we should be busy “building communities” rather than “building churches.” The shop-lot churches of the Protestants perhaps lend greater support to this type of reasoning. We can actually worship anywhere and everywhere. Buildings are just a “necessary evil.”

What we fail to recognise is that such reasoning is not, has never been, and never will be part of Catholic thought. It flies against our sacramental sense of things. The age-old definition of St Thomas Aquinas for a sacrament is “outward sign of inward grace,” constantly reminds us that our material world, so transformed and divinised by the Incarnation, allows us to have a glance of the spiritual and invisible realm. Therefore, St Augustine describes the “church” building as an outward sign of who we are interiorly. "What was done here, as these walls were rising, is reproduced when we bring together those who believe in Christ. For, by believing they are hewn out, as it were, from mountains and forests, like stones and timber; but by catechising, baptism and instruction they are, as it were, shaped, squared and planed by the hands of the workers and artisans. Nevertheless, they do not make a house for the Lord until they are fitted together through love" (St. Augustine, Sermon 36).

The church is catecheses in stone, therefore, it is properly said to be a sacramental building since it makes present to us the realities of heaven and earth at the end of time. The past, the present and the future converge in this architectural image. In the time of shadow, the Temple of Solomon gave us a look at this future glory. In the future, in the time of realisation of the Promise, the celebrations of heaven will be purely communion and feast without need of material mediation. But now, as beings who perceive through the senses, we human beings require the image. The Church building, with its liturgical arts, tells us in a way that nothing else can, what heaven looks like, who is there, and what the nature of redeemed creation might be like. In short, it gives us a “foretaste” of the realities by way of image.

So, a door is not just any door, but a symbol of the Pearly Gates. The holy water font at every door reminds us that baptism is the sacrament that opens the doorway to salvation. The pillars of the Church remind us that the Church of Christ is built on the firm foundation of the Twelve Apostles. The leafy ornamentation above the pillars reminds us of Paradise Regained, where we are permitted once again to feast on fruits of the Tree of Life, once denied to our fallen ancestors. The nave (from the Latin “navis” – ship) of the Church, where the congregation sits, reminds us that we are secure within the hull of the barque of St Peter, the ark of salvation, protected from the raging winds and stormy waves that often threaten but never succeed in breaching the integrity of the Church. The soaring rafters and the company of saints that adorn the Church remind us that we are citizens of the Heavenly City and merely sojourners on earth. The Chair, the ambo and the altar signify to us that it is Christ Himself who shepherds and teaches and who finally offers himself as the Perfect Sacrifice to the Father for our salvation, and who will return on the Last Day to act as both Judge and Saviour. And the Tabernacle with the eternal flame burning at its side reminds us that even in the darkest moments of desolation, when all hope seems lost, Christ is not just symbolically present but truly, really and substantially present to us as food for the journey and the most potent antidote to evil, suffering and death.

This is why a church cannot just be viewed functionally. When liturgical architecture presents merely a functional or at least neutral setting or is viewed as a museum of devotional objects, then the consequences are dire. There is truism in the ancient maxim, Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, Lex Vivendi (the Law of Prayer determines the Law of Belief, which ultimately determines the Law of Life). Thus, a church built purely on considerations of acoustic soundness and seating capacity, one which resembles an auditorium or a convention hall, may actually result in people expecting entertainment and outstanding performances, rather than inspire reverential awe for the purpose of sacred worship. It is no wonder that people are more often found dressed like they are going to the pub or a stroll in the park, rather than coming before the King of Kings, surrounded by His heavenly court.

Often, we hear people commenting how a church looks an airplane hangar or a factory warehouse. This is not just a matter of architectural taste but a statement that the theological reality of the building appears opposed to its architecture. When a Church does not look like the Church, rather than revealing the realities of heaven, it reveals a falsity because it’s very identity is not manifested in its physical expression (a factory is not how we would imagine heaven). It might be a mighty fine factory, but as a church, it is not beautiful, it does not reflect the heavenly liturgy.

The beauty of our Churches inspires both joy and enthusiasm. Thus, such beauty is indeed necessary for salvation. For in them, we receive hope and a constant reminder that we are to become ever more the Temple of the Holy Spirit, the Living Stones which make up the Body of Christ, and it is "in him we have redemption by his blood, the forgiveness of transgressions, in accord with the riches of his grace." (Eph. 1:7)

Christ is the Star, not us!

Solemnity of the Epiphany - Year C

"Catholic mass is soooo boring". Over a period of time I have overheard people discussing the setbacks of a Catholic mass and the futility of coming to Church. A teenager, talking to a group of her peers said that: "Mass is soooo boring. The music doesn’t rock at all! I don't know how a priest can say the same things every Sunday." A man declared: "I am Catholic, but I don't see the need to go to church. After all, I know a lot of bad people who go to church and I know a lot of good people who don't go to church." A lady stated that: "I'm a Catholic, but I don't go to church every Sunday. The homilies are so bad, I can't stand them. When I do go, I sometimes take a novel with me to read during the homily."

Our initial reaction to any of these statements may often be to offer sympathy and our own agreement. Yes, mass is boring and seems even pointless when we don’t seem to get anything out of it. The argument might be raised that if people have fun, they will like going to Mass. If they don’t have fun, they won’t go. They will think Mass is boring and religion dreary. So we make a list of suggestions on how to remedy the situation – simply, make it lighter, shorter, less painful and uncomfortable, more fun, more exciting, more creative, and definitely more entertaining. We fail to recognise that these statements are actually quite revealing. They suggest that many people do not attend mass because they have come to worship God. In fact, many people attend mass because they are looking to be entertained.

Today’s Solemnity of the Epiphany offers us a realignment of our orientation. The magi, as did the shepherds on Christmas Day, offer us the supreme goal of our lives – it is to encounter Christ our Lord and offer him our worship and adoration. Unlike other astrologers who were busy studying constellations and stars that could guarantee good fortune and ward off bad luck, unlike King Herod who was so absorbed in his own self-importance, and unlike the Jewish priests and ruling elite who were concerned with self-preservation, the magi were able to transcend their own selfish goals and ambitions to discover their salvation in the Christ-child. In this sense, the Mass is a kind of epiphany, a manifestation of Christ in person, body and blood, soul and divinity, calling us to transcend our self-absorption. Epiphany is an invitation to restore the sense of the sacred, to return Christ to his rightful place as the real star of the celebration, and to give priority to worship in our encounter with Him.

The primary importance of Jesus Christ within the liturgy has been a constant theme of Pope Emeritus Benedict’s teaching during his seven-year pontificate. He has often expressed concern that bad teaching can lead some Catholics to view the liturgy ‘horizontally’ as the creation of a parish or group in which the community celebrates itself. “The liturgy is not a kind of ‘self-manifestation’ of a community,” in other words, it is not an Epiphany of man. Rather, it should always be an Epiphany of God – Christ who manifests himself not only as man but under the form of bread and wine. Pope Benedict noted that when priests or parishioners reflect on how to make the liturgy “attractive, interesting and beautiful,” they can “risk forgetting the essential: That is the liturgy is celebrated for God and not for ourselves.”

If God is absent from our celebration, then we are lost – without a star, we become the stars. “If the centrality of Christ does not emerge in the celebration, then it is not a Christian liturgy, totally dependent on the Lord and sustained by his creative presence,” the Pope adds. The Mass, therefore, is a bridge between heaven and earth, a serious business which can never be taken lightly. The Mass was never meant to be a form of entertainment, any more than the sacrifice on Calvary was meant to be. The whole point of Holy Mass is not to create a human experience, but rather to encounter mystery. Our experiences at Mass must be conditioned by and predicated on these goals: we are here to discover Christ and worship Him.  

Sometimes, the young are cited as the justification for introducing innovation and ‘fun’ into the liturgy, in the form of livelier music, relaxing the rubrics and rules regarding decorum and dressing, and turning the priest into an entertainer. This is the argument many self-described pastoral types make: and see how it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If, week after week, our young people are given the message that the Mass is supposed to be “fun”, entertaining, rocking, etc., then they will expect it always to be that way, and they will learn to judge it according to these malformed standards. Giving the kids a ‘good time’, is a tragic short-changing. The idea that a Mass must be entertaining and must hold the attention of children by means of gimmicks is a mistake. We will create a kind of spiritual blindness and deafness in the young. They will come to mistake their subjective experience for the voice of God.

In the three gifts offered by the wise men to Christ, we are invited to restore Christ’s rightful place in our liturgy.  The gift of gold symbolises our acknowledgment that he is king. The gold in our sanctuary is not a symbol of human opulence but the glory due to the King of Kings, worthy of our humble submission. The gift of frankincense symbolises our worship and adoration due to one who is not just a mega rock star or super-hero – he is God worthy of our praises. Finally, the gift of myrrh reminds us of the solemnity of our celebration which is a re-enactment of his sacrifice on the Cross. The cross is hardly entertaining because the cross demands that we deny ourselves of the need for amusement and stardom. Christ must suffer and die in order for the world to be saved. This is his destiny. We as his followers must also be prepared to follow his example and accept his fate. The way of the cross leads to heaven.

Today, as we pay homage to the King of Kings, the Lord our God, and the Saviour who died on the cross for us, let us never forget that he is always the Star and focus of our celebration. He may have to suffer this injustice whenever we can’t tell the difference between what we sing in a bar, in our bathrooms, or what we hear at a concert with what we do in mass. A renewed sense of the sacred in Church would allay such fears and provide a sensible distinction between what we are doing in the Church and what we are doing in the Hall next door.