Wake up! Stop making excuses

Third Sunday of Lent - Year C

Whether we agree or not, we are masters of rationalisation – we are really good in making excuses, and most of the time we know they're lies. Making excuses is nothing new. We are pretty good at it. Sometimes we make excuses to try to keep from hurting someone's feelings. Sometimes we make excuses to avoid responsibility for our actions. We make excuses for things we did wrong, times we failed, things we don't want to do, situations we don't want to be in.  You may be comforted to know that Moses was adept at this. Moses grew up as a prince in Egypt, but fled from Pharaoh after he had broken up a fight between a Hebrew and an Egyptian, and killed the Egyptian. Having been in exile in the desert for about 40 years, Moses was tending sheep near Horeb, when he saw a strange sight. Flames were rising from a bush, but the bush wasn’t burning up. As Moses approached the bush, he heard a voice calling his name. The voice revealed itself: “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” God then proceeded to share His plan with Moses: He had heard the cries of His people about their oppression in Egyptian slavery. And He wanted Moses to join with Him in their deliverance. At this point, Moses began presenting a series of excuses, some of which may sound familiar to you.

First, Moses' response to his calling was to say, “Who am I”. You’ve heard it often enough. Expressed in today’s language, it’s simply stating what you believe to be a fact, “I’m not qualified.” Second, the “Who are you?” naturally follows the “Who am I”. Moses pleads lack of knowledge in that he did not even know God’s name and what to tell the Israelites. Moses’ third excuse to God was that he did not believe he had the power to fulfill the calling that God had told him to do. It’s the pessimist’s answer to every proposal, ‘Forget about it, it won’t work!’ The fourth excuse was that his speaking and leadership abilities were lacking. In other words, we lack the talent or gift to carry it out. But Moses’ final excuse to God betrayed his real intentions - he simply did not desire to fulfill his calling and lead the Israelites out of Egypt. So, there you have it, the classic list of excuses to turn down any invitation from God to serve:

“I’m a nobody.”

“I don’t know enough about God or my faith.”

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not gifted.”

And finally the classic, “Choose someone else.”

Just like Moses, many of us grew up making excuses. We make excuses when we don't want to obey or listen. We make excuses when we don't want to go where we do not wish to go. We make excuses when we don't want to do what is required of us. Over time, we even come to believe in them. I don’t go for confession because … I have no sin (yah, right!); my sins are too trivial; I don’t see the point of going for confession because I’m going to repeat the same sins again; I don’t understand why we need to confess to a priest when I can confess to God; I don’t know how to make a confession. And then there’s the classical litany of occasional or infrequent church goers: I don’t come to church, but there’s a good reason for it: I don’t have the time; I’m too tired; I pray at home; I want to spend quality time with the family over the weekends; I’ve got some important errands to run; I don’t understand what’s happening; the mass is boring; the church is too hot; I’m having a headache; my children don’t like to go to church so I have to keep them company; I angry with the priest; I don’t like the people. Bottom line is this: I don’t want to go to church because I don’t see it as something important. I have other priorities … Period.

Excuses are actually lies we tell ourselves to avoid dealing with unpleasant truths.  They are ultimately ways of avoiding responsibility, especially the responsibility for our sins. When we choose to stop making excuses, we then can begin to take steps to change. Accepting responsibility is the first step to repentance. The second reading and the gospel reminds us that we should take full responsibility for our actions and decisions. We cannot deflect the blame and push it to others, neither can we plead ignorance because there have been constant reminders and warnings in both the Scriptures as well as in our daily lives. Ignorance is just another excuse. A mature Christian is ultimately accountable for his life; he can’t blame fate, his past, his parents, his environment or even God for what he has freely chosen to become. We are not victims of our circumstances. It is true that we are not always in control of time, the information which is disseminated or even the resources available to us. But the problem is never about the lack of time; it’s more about the lack of will to make changes to our priorities. The problem is never about not knowing; it’s about choosing to be lazy or to work at learning. The problem is never about the lack of money; but rather about how we choose to spend our money. 

It appears to me that regardless of the excuses that man concocts for not doing the will of God, God always has an answer. God, just like a hardy fitness trainer, will not take ‘No’ for an answer. Here is the bottom line. If you have missed everything else, then get this: it’s not about you. It’s never about you or about your personal abilities. Moses’ excuses were based on his inadequacies and limitations. But the story isn’t about the merits of Moses but the providence of God. God matches Moses’ excuses with these answers – God will provide the strength, God will give the support, God will be present throughout each moment of our lives, God will teach and instruct us, God will make available the necessary resources. God will provide companions for the journey. When God has chosen you, he will provide you with the necessary grace and assistance to carry out his will. So, no piece of excuse will suffice to silence God. God will never give up on you. God will not take ‘No’ for an answer.

So don’t let excuses run your life because it would mean living a lie, and Satan is the Father of lies. Fr Peter once told me that we belong to the Adam’s family (not Addams, mind you). We are in the business of blaming others and making excuses for our own mistakes, just like our primordial parents. Spiritual growth means facing the truth; it means having the courage and the humility to admit our unwillingness, our laziness, our sinfulness, our lack of faith. Shoot down your excuses, face the bitter truth, and start taking the steps necessary to change in the direction you want to go. The Sacrament of Penance would be a good place to start. Stop making excuses, get with the programme!

Ubi Petrus Ibi Ecclesia,Where Peter is, there is the Church

Feast of the chair of St. Peter

“Ubi Petrus Ibi Ecclesia,” “Where Peter is, there is the Church”, is the famous quote from St Ambrose of Milan. This statement makes an important claim; in fact, an undeniably outrageous claim. It points to the essential centrality of the papacy in relation to the Church’s unity. In other words, it is saying “without the papacy, there is no Church.” Though many would contest and reject the veracity of this claim, popular culture has accorded him a special role, a caricature at best. One such popular image is that St Peter stands as a sort of gatekeeper (“or perhaps, even a goal keeper), guarding the Pearly Gates, the entrance to the heavenly realm – a seemingly ignoble job. Though hardly accurate, the image is derived from the gospel passage we heard today, where Jesus bestows special prerogatives on Peter.

First, St Peter is given a new name, which in Scripture denotes a change in status or position. Jesus spoke Aramaic and gave Simon the Aramaic name Kepha (Rock) which is “Petra” in Greek and “Peter” in English. The Greek “petra” is feminine so the masculine “Petros” was adopted. If “Petra” refers to a rock, “petros” can refer to a little pebble. This has often been the contention of Protestants who see in the conferment of this name, not a great honour but a subtle insult. Protestants argue that Christ is the only foundation (1 Cor 3:11) attempting thereby to unseat Peter. There is, however, no distinction in Aramaic, between Kepha the “Rock” and Kepha, the Apostle Peter, upon which Jesus would build his Church. Peter is Kepha, He is the rock. In fact, Syriac Christians, who continue to use Aramaic in their scriptures and liturgy, also claim that Jesus, the Rock of Salvation, conferred his own name and title on Peter. This must simply be the greatest honour accorded to any man.

Having been conferred a new title and name, St Peter is also given the metaphorical keys by Christ.  As Jesus, the new King of Israel, re-established the Davidic throne he appointed Peter to the office of royal steward to rule “over the house” of the king. Keys represent primacy and exclusive dominion and this authority was granted to Peter alone. As the steward of Christ’s kingdom, Peter is given the authority to bind and loose. These are keys not of any earthly palace but of heaven itself, which is another way of saying that the issue is linked to salvation. Of course, this entails more than the no-brainer job of opening heaven’s door to the faithful. The term binding and loosing was also familiar in Rabbinic tradition. They represented the legislative and judicial powers of the Rabbinic office. These powers Christ now transferred in their reality here to Peter. To say that St Peter has the key means he can declare certain things to be lawful and others unlawful; that is to bind or to loose, or to prohibit or to permit, or to forgive, and to teach and to govern with the authority of Christ in matters that are necessary for our salvation. In all this, he acts with the power of Christ!

But the authority of the King, officially conferred here on his steward, does not end with the death of the steward. Jesus would not have missed filling up this gaping loophole. The office of a royal steward was a hereditary position. Familiar with their history, the Jews certainly understood that the office of Peter would be filled by successors as was the royal steward’s office in Judah. The steward may die, but the office continues. That is why the keys remain a prominent symbol in the coat of arms of every Pope.

The authority and the power of the Petrine Office, that is the office of St Peter in Christ’s kingdom, which is now handed down to his successors, the popes, is not just a point of contention with the Protestants who clearly reject it, but has also become a scandal of sorts for Catholics. Irony has it that the rock, the foundation of our Church and our faith, has in fact become a stumbling block to critics, dissenters and persons who often treat their personal opinions as dogmas. For many people nowadays, there is something of a sense of skepticism about institutions – we tend to think of them as overly bureaucratic, slow to respond as if they were intentionally established to hold us back and slow us down. Our modern notion of democracy has also instilled in us a suspicion of arbitrary power, especially so much power centred on one single person. In fact, this expression has entered into the English language, “the Dread of Popery.” A belief popularly held by many is that no one individual should have unfettered powers of decision. Perhaps, the real point of contention is that no one should act like God, or at least act with divinely instituted powers.

Ultimately, in rejecting the authority of Peter and that of the Popes, one inadvertently but necessarily rejects the testimony of Scripture and in doing so we reject the authority of Christ; because Peter is his choice. Of course, this link between rejecting the Chosen of God and the God who chooses is not confined to the papacy. Throughout Scriptures, we see God’s choices of leadership often been called into question because these do not conform to our own criteria of suitability for a candidate. In fact, God often chooses the least likely to succeed – the youngest or the oldest, the frailest, the most insignificant, the candidate most likely to fail. The choice of God often highlights his absolute sovereignty and gratuitousness, rather than a decision based on the extraordinary qualities of the candidate. The chosen man often has nothing to offer and can do nothing himself, but instead relies heavily on grace and the power of God. At the end of the day, God takes all the credit, not man.

When God founded the Church, he founded a visible body, a visible body with a visible head, and that visible head had a name – Peter. The institution of the Papacy and the authority attached to this office is of divine institution. This was no human invention - the apostles did not come together and decide this. The Papacy and his authority was not the result of political manipulation. Quite the opposite, it is Our Lord who establishes this institution. It is Christ who builds and not Peter. It is not our choice, it is not our wisdom who picked out this apostle. The primacy of Peter is a primacy willed by God and not created by men.

If you have any confusion in your mind where that Church is, when faced with all those conflicting voices that inevitably always sound sincere and credible, if there are different claims to the Truth, you can know with certainty where the church is, Jesus assures us, “I give you a marker, a beacon – look for Peter.” Peter will be a point of stability, a guarantee and an assurance that the Church will not be fazed even when everything shifts. In a market place filled with various ideological options, where the search for certainty and stability is often frustrated, the Papacy provides us with clear direction. Where do I find the fullness of the Lord? Where do I find His Mystical Body, and not just a body that I have constructed? Then we only need go back his words, “On this rock, I will build my church.” “Where Peter is there is the Church.” Of course, the Holy Father remains utterly human, he sins as you and I sin. He may have opinions as we do. But when he teaches in his office as Pope, we can have confidence that Christ speaks definitively through him. He is indeed a gift from God.

I started with a quote from St Ambrose of Milan. Actually, the entire quote sounds like this, “Ubi Petrus ibi ecclesia, et ibi ecclesia vita eternal." Where Peter is there is the Church, and where there is the Church there is life eternal! If you want to know where the Church of Christ is, find Peter, and you will find the Church, and if you have found the Church and come to love Her and Her counsel and humbly submit yourself to the authority of Peter’s Successors, then be sure that you are on the sure path to eternal life.

Infinite Glory - Heaven

Second Sunday of Lent - Year C

Last week we got a small dose of hell and the devil in the scene of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness. This week, its God’s turn – we get a glimpse of heaven in the Transfiguration story. God and the Devil, Heaven and Hell: these used to be the common themes found in almost everything ranging from cartoons, to fiction novels, artistic masterpieces to the Sunday pulpit, as if these two themes are ingrained in the fabric of society. Nearly every human being holds some sort of belief system regarding heaven, hell, or both.  But not everyone does. A scathing judgment came from Stephen Hawking who argued that a belief that heaven or an afterlife awaits us is a "fairy story" for people afraid of death. Perhaps you can recall these words by John Lennon from the song “Imagine": “Imagine there’s no heaven; it’s easy if you try. No hell below us–above us only sky.” Lennon seems to suggest that if we all agreed to imagine away certain unpleasant realities, we could create utopia on earth.

So what happened to heaven and hell? In generations past it seemed the message of salvation could not be preached without the poignant illustrations of the glory of heaven promised to those who remained faithful to Jesus Christ, their Lord and Saviour, whereas the lake of fire reserved for those who refuse to accept him. But heaven’s gotten a bad press lately. We don’t believe in it like we used to. We don’t think about it very much nowadays. We’re all too busy making a living to worry about what happens after we die. We live, interact, work, and fall in love without any second thought of whether we will eventually end up in heaven or hell. Both heaven and hell are now used as metaphors to describe our present state, rather than two states after our death. Belief in heaven has taken a plunge because we are caught up with a utopian dream of establishing an earthly paradise. Salvation is no longer the desired goal. It has been replaced by therapeutic earth-bound substitutes – inner peace, happiness in the present life, longevity, health, wealth, wholeness of being, and solutions to our problems.

Are the likes of Stephen Hawkings and John Lennons of this world right in disbelieving that there is life after death? Is heaven a mere delusion of those who cannot face death or the horror of this present life? Or is the belief in heaven rooted in reality and if it is, what has it to do with our present lives?  Our readings today seem to say so. They partly lift aside the veil that separates earth from heaven and in so doing they reveal the glory of the world as God created it. In the first reading, the ancient Abram who had lost all hope of producing a progeny who will ensure the continuation of his name is provided a glimpse of heaven. In the stars, he is shown the promise of God that his descendants would be beyond his present imagining. In the second reading Paul exhorts the community in Philippi to “not give way but remain faithful in the Lord,” by reminding them that their “homeland is in heaven” and that Christ will “transfigure these wretched bodies of ours into copies of his glorious body.”

Finally, we have in the gospel, Luke’s account of the transfiguration.  The transfiguration occurs in a context where Jesus has just revealed to His disciples that He would be put to death in Jerusalem. Jesus’ prediction of his imminent death was met with denial and even anger. They were shaken by the thought that Jesus, the awaited Messiah, would meet such a horrific fate. This is why Jesus took them up to the mountain where, "he was transfigured before them." This experience of the transfiguration was, therefore, God’s way of delivering the disciples from a crisis of faith by providing them with a glimpse into the glory of heaven. The cause of their crisis of faith was the way in which they saw people and things around them. Death, suffering, separation seems to be defining moments in our lives. The disciples needed a vision from God’s point of view, to see that in spite of the death sentence hanging over the head of Jesus, God was still with him, God was still in control of events, God would see to it that in the end he triumphed over his foes, even death.  In the Transfiguration, Peter, James and John saw that there was more to Jesus than what they could see and hear and touch, they got a glimpse of the future glory of Jesus’ resurrection. His death would not mark the end; it would only inaugurate the beginning of eternal life. It would open the gates of heaven.

An important truth shines forth from the centre of this mystery. Glimpses of this transfigured world are not only good for our mental health but are essential for our salvation. They help us see through the illusions cast by the devil who constantly tempt us to store up treasures in this world and to place our hopes in projects which can only disappoint us. Our dreams of an earthly utopia, where we will be shielded from all pain, trouble, and disappointment is merely delusional. Christians disagree with Hawking’s conclusion – heaven is not “a fairytale”, it’s the Utopian ideal that proves to be so. Heaven makes the journey worth travelling. Heaven provides the strength to bear the weight of our tribulations. Heaven keeps us on course, away from the distractions that tie us to this earthly life and its lies.

Not a week goes by that I don’t talk with someone whose suffering seems to be overwhelming. It may be cancer or some other disease, it may be a broken marriage or a child in trouble, it may be financial disaster or trouble at work or at school. God’s people endure many hardships in this life. Most of the time we can’t fully understand why God allows certain things to happen to us. But we have this promise in Paul’s letter to the Romans, (8:18) that “our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” When the books are opened and the scales are balanced, we will discover that the things we went through in this life are nothing compared with the glories of heaven. No one will ever say to Jesus, “Heaven’s not so great. It wasn’t worth what I went through to get here.” When we finally get to heaven, the glory will be so great that we won’t even remember the things that made us weep in this life.  Heaven must exist, or our present suffering losing its meaning. Someone once puts it this way, ‘For the unbeliever, this life is the only heaven they will ever know. For the believer, this life is the only hell we will ever know.’

You are 'Somebody' in the eyes of God

First Sunday of Lent - Year C

What are the criteria of a successful man? The answer seems obvious – having money, lots of money, power and popularity. No one will give you a second look if you are poor, weak, or unpopular. Yes? No?

Today’s gospel goes against this very trend of thinking. Jesus is also confronted by these 3 temptations – possessions, power and popularity. The temptation to change the stones into bread is the temptation to place one’s trust in riches, possessions and objects. We may be tempted to feel that if we have lots of money or that we have acquired a very good education, we are then somebody important – others will look up to us.

In the second temptation, the devil tempts Jesus with power. This is a very powerful temptation – many of us are tempted to control our lives, to control organizations, to control other people. We are tempted to think that if we are in control then we would be somebody important.

The third temptation is the temptation to be popular. Jesus did perform miracles but never to show off or to make himself popular.

We see Jesus rejecting all these 3 temptations because none of them could take away the fact that he was the Son of God. Nothing could change that. He was indeed the Son of God and there was no need to prove it by putting his trust in riches, power and popularity. For Jesus, the foundation and core of his whole ministry and identity is the Father’s love for him. We find this in the story of his baptism by John the Baptist which immediately precedes today’s gospel story. In that story, when Jesus comes out from the water, he hears a voice from heaven that says: “You are my beloved son, my favor rests on you.” What a wonderful thing – to be totally dependent on this knowledge that God loves us no matter. God does not want nor need us to prove it through our achievements. We don’t need to prove our importance by acquiring riches, power and popularity. Being God’s sons and daughters is all that we would ever need.

This is the reason why Moses wanted to remind the Israelites of their history and their identity in the first reading – they were ‘nobodies’ – they were ‘slaves.’ But God gave them an identity- he saved them, gave them a land which they could call home and made them His people. Without God they had no identity, no freedom, no riches, no importance. Only with God was this all possible.

So it is with us today. Let us pray for the grace to resist these temptations of riches, power and popularity, knowing that they can never promise us eternal happiness. It is only in God that we shall find happiness and everlasting life. That is all that matters.

Look at Jesus

Parish Feast Day - Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes (World Day of Prayer for the Sick 2016)

Today we celebrate our patronal feast day in honour of Our Lady of Lourdes, the day declared by St. Pope John Paul II as World Day of Prayer for the Sick, we are asked to contemplate not just the message of healing, which all the sick and elderly would happily welcome, but also the message of suffering as prophecy, suffering as redemption. Today, the shrine of Lourdes in France is the most visited Catholic pilgrimage site in the world - principally because of the apparent healing properties of the waters of the spring that appeared during the apparitions of the Blessed Virgin Mary to a poor, fourteen-year-old girl, Bernadette Soubiroux. Today, many of you have come to this church in Klang and other pilgrims have travelled here and waited patiently to get a taste of Lourdes water for the same reason. Many hope to receive some miraculous cure to your diseases. Others hope to find a solution to your predicament. Still many others come here seeking for peace in the midst of troubles. But Our Lady of Lourdes promises more than just physical healing. The message of our Lady in Lourdes as in many other shrines all over the world remain consistent – it is a call to conversion, a call to faith, a call to unite oneself with her Son.

The paradox of suffering as something redemptive and prophetic can be seen in the seer of Lourdes, St Bernadette. Although she was singly privileged with the apparitions of Our Lady and was the first to taste the miraculous healing waters of Lourdes, she would continue carrying the burden of illness throughout her short life. In one particularly moving episode of her life, the Mother Superior of her convent confronts Bernadette who appeared loitering in the refectory whilst her other sisters were out doing fruitful manual labour. The Mother Superior asked her in a stern voice, ‘What do you think you are doing here?’ To which she received this reply from Bernadette, ‘I’m busy working.’ Her superior sensing sarcasm in the answer, presses, ‘Pray tell me, what are you working at?’ Bernadette replies, ‘My work is to be sick.’ 

We cannot really choose to have no pain in our lives, because pain in some form is inescapable. We have no choice about pain or suffering. Sooner or later everyone must face it. Even Jesus and his mother had to undergo pain. Whether we bear it with love or not, however, is a different matter. We do have a real choice there. We are free to choose “the pain of loving” or “the pain of not loving,” the latter being a pain that is empty and barren—a pain without any redeeming qualities. We know that Jesus and his mother and other heroic witnesses like St. Pope John Paul II and  St. Bernadette Soubiroux have chosen the “pain of loving.” That is, they undergo suffering for the love of God and of humanity, so their pain has rich meaning.

Those who suffer the limitations exacted by old age and illness would sound just like the servants of the wedding feast who came to report to Mary, ‘The wine has run out … we have no more wine.’ Many who suffer the infirmities of aging and illness may ask the poignant question, ‘What can I possibly do in my present condition?’ Old age and illness both seem to be impediments to all the things a person hopes to achieve in his or her life. But the lives of St. Pope John Paul II and St. Bernadette Soubiroux reminds us, especially those of you who have come leaning on the cross of Christ, that your suffering need not be futile nor meaningless. Know this - your infirmities are no obstacles to life and to ministry. Just like Bernadette, your greatest work at this point is to be sick, for in courageously bearing with your sickness, in continuing to show love despite your pain and fatigue, you reveal and proclaim the profound mystery of Christ presence even in the midst of suffering. Today, Christ comforts you. He consoles you. He encourages you. And if any of you feel like giving up, Christ from the cross says this to you, “Look at Me!”

St. Bernadette, Pray for us! 

St. Pope John Paul II, Pray for us! 

Our Lady of Lourdes, Pray for us! 

Dust can be holy stuff

Ash Wednesday 2016

On Ash Wednesday small children are thrilled to receive ashes. Adults too, I must confess. There is something about receiving sacramentals and praying with them which excite the Catholic imagination. Ordinarily deprived of the opportunity to receive communion like the adults, children display great excitement that they can get in line to receive something from the priest, albeit once a year. A young child once complained to the grandmother, ‘How come you get to eat the good stuff every Sunday? But when it comes to me, I get the dirty stuff on my face. And I have to wait a whole year for this?’

How then do we talk about the meaning of ashes to children or even to adults? Ashes have traditionally been a sign of repentance. Although children generally know that they need to say sorry when they’ve been naughty, the idea of repentance may be too much to grasp for a little one who has not reached the age of reason (generally 8-9 years) and thus are not to be faulted for their actions. 

But there is something more to ashes than just penance and repentance. It is a reminder of our mortality – all of us will die one day and our mortal bodies will return to dust. Our mortality then adds urgency to the need for repentance. We need to repent because we will not live forever. We must choose to repent today, because we are never sure whether we’ll live to see tomorrow. 

Ashes from the burned palms of last year’s Palm Sunday carry the reminder that the grandiose hopes of triumphal parades can so easily turn to betrayal, persecution, and burial. Ashes, made by burning palms blessed the previous Palm Sunday, symbolize the transience of our earthly status. The body must fall temporarily into dust. This fact should serve as a challenge to spiritual accomplishments. Through grace we were "buried" in Christ that we may rise with him and "live unto God." "They are not a sign of death," Fr. Merton says, "but a promise of life." 

It is interesting to note that no matter how beautiful, varied and different everything we see may appear to be, all are reduced to indistinguishable ashes when subjected to fire. A beautiful and priceless painting, a human body, stacks of money, expensive clothes and flowering trees, all become in-differentiable when reduced to ashes. It may normally seem strange to admire ashes. It’s just dust – no shape, no beauty, no use, no value. Yet, ashes take on an entirely new meaning when we view it through the eyes of faith. Ashes remind us that all the things which we treasure in this life, our money, our possessions, our environment and even our loved ones are impermanent. Ashes then become a sacramental reminder and teacher – for they teach us to understand that we cannot place our trust and hope in things which will eventually disappear, things that will become ashes. Ashes point to our own mortal lives – in spite of how long we may live or how healthy we may be, one day, all of us, without any exception would become ashes. 

Ashes and the mortality of human life which it represents also have a democratising effect. Each of us may come from different social backgrounds. Some of us are rich while others poor. Some may hold very important positions while others perform clerical task and other manual work. No matter who you are or where you come from, all are invited to come forward to place ashes on your forehead. Rich or poor, young or old, powerful or weak, stranger or friend - all equally sinners in need of salvation. Notice that the priests are the first to have the ashes placed on their forehead, which serves as a reminder that we priests too are sinners. In this way, we are all equal in the eyes of God. We all require forgiveness and redemption. We all need to die to our old sinful self in order to be reborn into the new life with Christ. When all is reduce to ashes, there are no longer differences among us. 

It is always a bit amazing how many people are eager to receive ashes. You wouldn’t think that we need or are eager to hear reminders of mortality. After all, we get those all the time. Loved ones die. Our own bodies show signs of wear. We are in the midst of broken situations and broken communities, and we never have to look far to see decay and corruption. Despite the many reminders of mortality which surround us, we also live in a culture of denial. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” simply puts the truth on the table. It is an awesome, if unwelcome, starting point for a relationship with God’s grace.

In the light of Christ, in the hope of Christ, our mortality is not something to be feared or denied. In fact, mortality, with its inevitable suffering, is something we share with every one of our human brothers and sisters. While we might think of mortality in connection with the isolation of loss, the dust we share can be a point of connection.

We are not at our best, we are not at our most glorious, we are not most fully human only when things are going well and we are lost in the rapture of joy. We may also be at our best precisely when things are at their worst. How we respond to suffering, disaster, and death can be just as glorious as our best hymn-singing.

This season of Lent is therefore an opportunity for us to die to sin. When we die to sin we also die to the illusions and lies caused by sin. Sin tells us that we only need to think of our own needs without having to think of others. Sin tells us to make a big show of our spiritual exercises e.g. prayer, fasting, coming to church etc. Sin blinds us to the kingdom of God and tempts us with worldly values that are impermanent. Today, on this first day of Lent, let us pray that the Lord will burn away our sins and the illusions caused by such sin. Ashes reveal the truth. As our sin and illusions are reduced to ashes, our focus is now turned toward God. In God, we shall find everything that is good and beautiful. In God, shall we have the promise of eternal life which will not be reduced to ashes. 

To outsiders, Catholics must look like mad people who love to dirty their face with dust, dirt and ashes. We are often corrected if we were to tolerate messiness and dirtiness. But today, you receive just that license to get dirty. Dust is looking better all the time – especially when it is joined to God’s promise that even dust can be holy stuff.

Disciples take risks!

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

For many years, investors have been told that risk and return are correlated. This principle (the risk-return tradeoff) is the basis of almost all academic theories of the value of financial assets. It makes sense, after all, if something is risky, people generally won't buy it unless it also offers chances for big winnings. 

Generally, many people are afraid of taking risks. It is much easier doing the things that are familiar than it is to do something which is new. Perhaps, what we really fear is failure. We fear that we will not be able to finish the projects which we have started. We fear that we will not get the results we desired. We fear that others will laugh at us for our stupidity. We fear that if we fail in this task, we would also fail for the rest of our lives.

Today, Jesus invites his disciples, he invites us, to take risks. He tells Peter in today’s gospel to “put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch.” This instruction must be difficult for Peter to follow because he has already failed to catch any fish on his first try. After having failed before, we often are hesitant to try again. We become discourage. We try to avoid making the same mistakes again. We move on to other projects. In the case of Peter he chose to take the risk again. If he had not tried to put out his nets again, perhaps, Jesus would not have asked him to become his disciple. If Peter had not become a disciple of Jesus, he would not become our first Pope. If he had not been the first Pope, we may not have the Catholic Church as we know it today. All because Peter chose to take the risk. 

One can never be a disciple of Christ, one can never be a true Christian unless one is prepared to take risks. Many of us are hesitant to commit ourselves to a particular project or responsibility because we fear failure. Often, I’ve invited people to take the challenge of becoming a catechists, a BEC coordinator or a leader in one thing or another. Many often decline. They give a variety of reasons. Some say that they have no time. Others feel that they have enough responsibilities. Some say that they do not have the necessary abilities. But, I believe that the real reason is the fear of failure. 

Today, we are reminded by the readings that all of us are called to discipleship. It is not enough to just be a Catholic. It is not enough just to come to Church or to pray. What is crucial is discipleship? Jesus came to call each of us to discipleship. The call is not only for some. It is for everyone. We are also reminded that a disciple is not someone who is talented and can make no mistakes. Peter is a good example of a disciple. He was a weak man – a “sinful man” as he claims in today’s gospel. He made many mistakes in his life even after he had met Jesus. He had fallen and had failed Jesus on many occasions. When Jesus was arrested, Peter denied Jesus for fear that he himself would be arrested. When Jesus died on the cross, Peter was no where to be found. He had run away with the other apostles to hide from the authorities. This is a disciple. A disciple is not one who doesn’t make mistakes. He does make mistakes. A disciple is not someone who will always succeed in everything that he does. A true disciple experiences failures just like everyone else. A disciple is not perfect, he does not have the answers all the time, he may not be talented. Very often, a disciple is far from perfect, he has many weaknesses and he struggles just like everyone else.

But what is most important is this – a disciple is one who is prepared to take risks. He is able to take risks because he has developed a deep relationship with Jesus. He trusts Jesus enough to be able to place his own fate in the hands of the Lord. A disciple may be weak or may consider himself as not having the necessary skills for the job, but again, he believes that is possible with the grace and help of God. A disciple recognizes his own sinfulness and constantly turns to God for forgiveness and mercy. This is the kind of disciple that each of us is called to become. Today, Jesus also extends his hand to you. Today, Jesus wants to tell you: “Do not be afraid, from now on it is men you will catch.” Come, Follow Him!

We have seen the light

The Presentation of the Lord

Today the Church celebrates the Presentation of the Lord which occurs forty days after the birth of Jesus. According to Jewish Law, a mother who has recently delivered her child, has to come to the Temple to undergo the ritual of purification and present her first born son forty days after his birth. Thus, this Feast goes by two names: The Presentation of Our Lord at the Temple, and the Purification of Mary. It was also commonly known as Candlemas as you had already witnessed candles were traditionally blessed on this day. This Feast also marks an ending. According to the old liturgical calendar, this day marks the end of the Christmas season, time to turn off the Christmas lights, take down that old Christmas tree and put away all our Christmas decorations. 

But this feast also has a third name; the Feast of the Encounter, commemorating the encounter of the Holy Family with the devout old man Simeon and the prophetess Anna in the Temple. Blinded by old age and having experienced long hours of prayer in the shadowy precinct of the Temple, Simeon was keenly aware that the light of his vision and that of his life, already dimmed, would soon go out. But as Simeon would demonstrate, a whole world awaits us when you turn off the lights. Simeon awakens to new hope.  Life begins to stir at the end of a spiritual or emotional winter when the end is in sight. For Simeon, this was an ending that promised a new beginning. This end is exactly what he has been waiting for. He had invested all his years in the Jewish way of life, and yet now he embraced its passing. It’s more like the conclusion of an extended Advent - the sight of that little group in the Temple, one family among so many others, is the answer to a life-time’s waiting and prayer. It’s a poignant scene: Mary brings her newborn to the Temple, and this old man, probably all but blind physically, somehow has the spiritual sight to see something - some scrap of hope for the future - in this forty-day-old child.  

On seeing the child, he rejoices and burst into song. The song that he sings after that encounter is called in Latin, the Nunc Dimittis after the first few words: “At last, all-powerful Master …” and it’s been sung for centuries the world over at our night prayer. The Canticle explains the reason for his overwhelming joy at this encounter, “For my eyes have seen your salvation which you have prepared for all nations, the light to enlighten the Gentiles and give glory to Israel, your people.” The light which Simeon sings of is none other than Christ who came to ransom us while we were still slaves, to lead us from the prison of darkness into the freedom of the children of light. The theme of ‘light’ has inspired the birth of the procession of lighted candles that marked the start of our celebrations. St Sophronius puts it this way, “Our lighted candles are a sign of the divine splendour of the one who comes to expel the dark shadows of evil and to make the whole universe radiant with the brilliance of his eternal light. Our candles also show how bright our souls should be when we go to meet Christ.”

Today we witness once again the interplay of shadow and light. In fact, shadow and light are the reality of our lives and our world. We could all tell a story of what it was like to live in the shadowy places. Sometimes we go there by our own choices or actions and other times as a result of someone else’s action or simply through the circumstances of life. Sometimes we hide in the darkness avoiding the light because of our shame or guilt. We presume that the shadows will conceal the cause of our shame. Other times we live in the night of fear not knowing what will come next or how we will handle it. There is s sense of powerlessness and life seems out of control. There are those times when the black hole of sorrow and grief sucks out the life and the light of our world and we seem unable to escape the darkness. Sometimes we experience the darkness of ignorance and confusion. We are blind to our own identity, lost on the path of life, seemingly without meaning or direction. And then there is the darkness of our larger world and society, the bleak and uncertain future, the injustice we constantly witness, the insurmountable problems that beset us. 

But as Simeon would discover, there is a light which no darkness can keep out, there is a light which the darkness cannot defeat, there is a light which persist to shine in the darkness. No matter how large the shadows or how dark the night the light is still present. It was symbolised today by our candlelit procession. That little flickering flame you carried was the reminder that Christ – “a light to enlighten the Gentiles” – is with you. Even when we extinguished our candles the light did not go away. It is within you and it always has been, always will be. How do we know this to be true? Simeon stands as witness. Yes, Simeon was blind. Yes, Simeon saw salvation. But he did not see with physical eyes. He saw with the eyes of faith. Simeon experienced an inner seeing, he sees with the ‘light’ which ‘enlightens’.

Something happens when we encounter the light. There is power in this light. It is a light which conquers the darkness. Wherever there is the least bit of light, darkness is forced to flee.  You can be in the darkest place imaginable and just a tiny match, when lit, has the power to drive away all that black, oppressive darkness.  When life loses its lustre, when drudgery makes the going painful and slow, this light can colour the drabness. Without light, our world would be dark and it would be drab. There would be no colour. But with light, a dreary world becomes brighter, and even the coldest chill will thaw. The light also gives life and thus is the enemy of death.  God uses the light of our witness and testimony to warm the dead sinner’s heart and to draw them to Jesus for salvation. Our light, which is really His light being reflected by us, is a means of bringing the life of Heaven to the dead ones on earth. And then there is the light which brings order to chaos – a light which sets everything right, in its proper place and order.

But that Light and that Illumination also proves revelatory. They reveal mercy and forgiveness in the shadows of guilt and shame, presence and courage in the night of fear, compassion and hope in the black holes of sorrow and loss, a way forward in the blindness of ignorance and confusion, and life in the darkness of death. The flame of God’s love consumes the darkness, fills us, and frees us to go in peace just as God promised. But every revelation is also a bittersweet reality. Truths, often painful truth, which lie hidden, are unearthed. God’s salvation will be costly, not only for Jesus, but also for those who love him. So, instead of offering Mary congratulations on her fine son, Simeon greets her with words of mystery and foreboding, and prophesies that a “sword shall pierce” her heart. This prophecy does not only reveal the suffering which the mother must endure, but also provides a glimpse of what is to become of the Son. In the light which enlightens, we see the silhouette of the cross.  But it is in the cross, that Christians will behold their brightest light – the light of the resurrection, God’s final victory over death, sin and darkness!

And that is God’s promise to us on Candlemas Day: that whatever we’re going through, light and hope will win out in the end. In the Northern hemisphere winter isn’t over, and we still have the long season of Lent ahead before we reach the spring and then Easter, but for now we have this service and these candles to remind us of God’s promise to see us through the darkness and lead us into light. Then, we will see the Church filled with the light of our candles. But even now, we can say with certainty, we have seen salvation and Simeon’s song has now become ours too.