Hope In Hiddenness

Easter Sunday

Readings: Acts 10:34, 37-43; Psalm 117 (118):1-2, 16-17, 22-23; Colossians 3:1-4; John 20:1-9

Picture: By Drew Hays on Unsplash

My dear friends, how do we know when a couple is pregnant? Sounds like a silly question, doesn’t it? Aren’t the signs unmistakable?! And yet (speaking as someone severely lacking in relevant experience), don’t all pregnancies begin in secret? In its early days in the womb, doesn’t a baby remain hidden even from its mother? It’s only later, after a test has been taken, or a doctor consulted, that the mother knows for sure. She has to trust the test-results, and verify them with her own experience. After which the couple may then share the news with others, while also taking steps to start caring for the new life that’s already present in, but also still hidden from, the world. And as the couple looks forward in hope to the baby’s birth, they too are changed. Their relationship is renewed… Hiddenness and renewal, trusting and verifying, sharing and caring. Don’t we find these same elements in our scriptures on this joyous Easter morning?

In the gospel, when Mary of Magdala arrives at the tomb on that first Easter morning, Jesus has already risen. But he also remains hidden. And when the gospel tells us that it was still dark, this is less a reference to the colour of the sky, than to the state of Mary’s faith. The truth of the Resurrection is hidden from her, because she is still shrouded in the shadows of unbelief. She comes to the tomb expecting to anoint a corpse, not to worship the Risen Lord. Like a recently pregnant couple, Mary needs to learn to trust and to verify. To trust what the Lord had told his disciples before his Passion, and to verify it through her own experience. Isn’t this what happens to Simon Peter and the Beloved Disciple at the Empty Tomb? As they see for themselves and ponder the signs left at the place where Jesus’ body had been laid, they come to understand the teaching of scripture, that he must rise from the dead. The truth of the Resurrection gradually dawns upon them. Their faith is renewed. And all before they actually set eyes on the Lord. All while he still remains hidden.

In the first reading too, the Risen Christ doesn’t appear to anyone. At this point in the story, he has already ascended into heaven. Where he remains hidden. And yet, there are clear signs of his presence and influence in the world. How else to explain the courage and confidence with which Peter shares with Cornelius and his household about the Lord’s Life, Death and Resurrection. Even though it’s actually unlawful for a Jew like Peter to visit the home of a Gentile like Cornelius, Peter still feels free to do so, because the Spirit of Jesus has prompted him. Helping him to realise that God has no favourites. And by following this prompting, by sharing his faith even with those he once considered unclean, Peter and the whole Church undergo renewal. Experiencing the same newness of life that Peter is taking care to nurture in others.

Isn’t this a good example of what the second reading means when it reminds us that, as followers of a Crucified and Risen Lord, we live a secret life? A life hidden with Christ in God. A life that can be understood only by those who learn to see things through the eyes of faith, and of hope, and of love for the Lord. Those who keep learning to trust and to verify, to share and to care, and to continually undergo renewal. And isn’t it important for us Christians to keep generously submitting ourselves to this process today? When, by all accounts, our world is entering a highly unpredictable and dangerous time? When the justice and peace of God’s kingdom seem ever more difficult to locate. And when mercy, solidarity, and compassion for the weak, seem all but displaced by narcissism, and greed, and the belief that might makes right. Yet, isn’t it particularly in such times that we need to undergo renewal? Not just as citizens prudently electing new political leaders. But also as Church. Isn’t this why, for the past few years, Pope Francis has been encouraging all of us to become more synodal? To learn to discern and to walk more closely the Way of Christ, with one another, and even with those who may not share our beliefs.

Some of us may recall this conversation from the movie, The Fellowship of the Ring, between the wizard Gandalf and the little hobbit Frodo, when they find themselves lost in the dark and dangerous mines of Moria… Frodo says, I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened. To which Gandalf replies, So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the ring, in which case you too were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought…

Sisters and brothers, like a recently pregnant couple, how might we help one another to be encouraged and renewed by the already Risen, yet often still hidden, Christ this Easter? 

Pedagogy for Praise

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord (C)

Readings: Luke 19:28-40; Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalm 21 (22):8-9, 17-20, 23-24; Philippians 2:6-11; Luke 22:14-23:56

Picture: By Bundo Kim on Unsplash

(At the Entrance:) Peace in heaven and glory in the highest! My dear friends, do these words of praise from the gospel we just heard ring a bell? Didn’t we hear similar words at Christmas? Spoken by a great host of angels, addressing shepherds living on the outskirts of Bethlehem, announcing to them the birth of a Saviour (Lk 2:14)? And didn’t those words prompt the shepherds to leave their flocks, and enter the city to check things out for themselves? Then, after confirming the truth of the announcement, they returned home glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen (2:20, NRSV). By witnessing for themselves the birth of the Lord, the shepherds learned to praise God. Similarly, as we stand at the threshold of this holiest week of our year, and as we hear the words shouted by the disciples on the outskirts of Jerusalem, may we be moved to follow the Lord into the Holy City, where he will be condemned to death, so as to bring the whole of creation to new birth. And as we meditate on the Lord’s Passion, may we again learn to sing the praises of God. Not just as individuals, but also as Church. Not just in words, but also through our very lives…

(At the Ambo:) My dear friends, as we know, according to St Ignatius of Loyola, the patron of our parish, the whole purpose of human existence is to praise, reverence and serve God (SpEx, 23). And yet, doesn’t life often make it difficult for us to do this? Whether it’s due to a personal setback or a family crisis, the stress of daily living or the depressing darkness that enshrouds our passing world, don’t we sometimes feel as though our hearts are simply too burdened or broken to bear the song of praise? Isn’t this what we see in the gospel?

As we heard earlier, St Luke’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem begins with the Lord’s disciples shouting the praises of God. And yet, as the terrible events of Jesus’ Passion unfold, as the darkness deepens, doesn’t it become more difficult to keep on praising? The gospel presents us with various examples of those who fail to praise. First being those who do the opposite. Those who show animosity instead. We see this in Judas who, for reasons known only to himself, decides to betray his Master and friend. Choosing to side with the Lord’s enemies. We see it also in the crowd before Pilate, who let themselves be manipulated into favouring a convicted murderer over a clearly innocent man.

Apart from animosity, there are also those who fall into apathy, who fail to show compassion for the Lord. Such as the disciples at the Last Supper, who distract themselves by arguing over who is the greatest. And who later, at the Mount of Olives, fail to heed the Lord’s advice to pray not to be put to the test. Choosing instead to numb themselves by falling asleep out of sheer grief. This is also the path chosen by Pilate, whose moral cowardice prevents him from doing the right thing. As well as Herod, whose narcissism keeps him trapped in his own selfish concerns. Then there are also those who go to the opposite extreme, indulging not in apathy but in activism. Isn’t this the initial experience of Peter? Faced with the Lord’s Passion, he immediately goes into problem-solving mode. Attempting to take control of the situation, relying only on his own resources. Lacking the humility to recognise just how woefully inadequate these are.

In contrast, it is those who somehow choose to associate themselves with Jesus, even as he suffers, who are eventually able to move in the right direction. Such as the women who had accompanied him from Galilee, and who will later receive the angelic announcement of the Lord’s Resurrection. Other examples include the good thief, who gains for himself a place in paradise at the last possible moment. And the spectators at the Crucifixion, who likely came only to be entertained, but found themselves going home beating their breasts. As well as the centurion who, after witnessing Jesus breathe his last, ends up giving praise to God.

What do we see in all this if not the truth of what the other readings tell us? That the ability to praise God is itself a gift from God. For it is God who gives us a disciple’s tongue. And it is by gazing unflinchingly at the utter humiliation of Christ, that we learn to acclaim him as Lord, to the glory of God the Father. And isn’t this our hope for Holy Week? That by accompanying the Lord spiritually, as he goes to his Passion, we too may receive the grace to keep associating ourselves with him through thick and thin. And to truly praise, reverence and serve God through him, even in the darkest of times. Not just as individuals but also as Church. Not just with our words, but also with our very lives.

Sisters and brothers, what can we do to help one another persevere in doing this in the week ahead and beyond?

The Monkey, the Melon Seeds & the Mango

5th Sunday of Lent (C)

Readings: Isaiah 43:16-21; Psalm 125 (126); Philippians 3:8-14; John 8:1-11

Picture: Picture by Julius Mburu on Unsplash

My dear friends, how does one catch a monkey? In a scene from the old movie, The Gods Must Be Crazy, a man drills a hole in a large abandoned ant-hill, into which he drops some melon seeds. Then he hides and waits. Soon a curious baboon comes along, puts its hand into the hole to grab the seeds, and quickly finds itself trapped. Its closed fist is too large to pull out of the tiny hole. To free itself, all the baboon has to do is release the things it’s holding onto. But it can’t bring itself to do it. So, for the sake of a few measly seeds, the baboon ends up sacrificing its own precious freedom.

What will it take for the one who is trapped to be willing to let go? Isn’t this also the question our scriptures pose to us today? In each of our readings, we find people trapped in some way. The first reading is addressed to a people trapped in exile in Babylon. And just as, in the past, God had helped their ancestors escape the trap of slavery in Egypt, by making a miraculous path for them through the great waters of the Red Sea, so too is God now providing them a road through the wilderness of exile, on which they can be led to safety. But in order for them to see and walk along this God-given freedom trail, the people must be willing to forsake their former wayward ways, their worship of false gods. What will it take for them to be willing to let go?

It’s also abundantly clear to us that the poor woman in the gospel is actually doubly trapped. First in her own sinful situation, about which the reading doesn’t really say very much. We aren’t given any juicy particulars of why and how she comes to be stuck in an adulterous relationship. What the reading does describe, and in greater and more painful detail, is how she is caught in the devious plot of the religious authorities. How she’s in danger of being stoned to death, because wicked men want to get rid of someone of whose success they are envious, and by whose words and actions they feel threatened. So it’s not just the woman who is trapped. Her captors are trapped too. Trapped in their own insecurity and hypocrisy, jealousy and fear.

To both the pitiful woman and her cruel captors, Jesus offers a way out. Being reminded by the Lord of their own sinfulness, the scribes and Pharisees finally decide to leave the woman alone. So she is set free from imminent danger of execution. But although the immediate crisis is defused, aren’t there also things that the reading leaves unresolved? Jesus tells the woman to go away, and do not sin any more. Will she? We’re not told. And though the authorities do release their captive, at this point in the story, it remains unclear if they will forgo their wicked desire to do away with Jesus. Again, what will it take for them to be willing to let go?

Still, it seems reasonable for us to believe that the woman is in a far better position than the men. For she has had the benefit of experiencing first-hand, what it’s like to be protected and defended by Jesus. She knows what it feels like to receive his loving and merciful gaze, and to hear those liberating words, Has no one condemned you?… Neither do I condemn you… And perhaps we might go even further. Perhaps we might consider that, later on, she will hear about, or even witness for herself, the Lord’s own execution, and be deeply moved by the thought that he suffers all that for me… (What marvels the Lord worked for us, indeed we were glad!) Moved not just to turn away from sin, but also to turn toward the path pioneered by the Lord himself. Following him on the Way of the Cross, the Road that leads to fullness of life.

And isn’t this also the experience that St Paul writes about in the second reading? Like the woman in the gospel, Paul too has experienced and been deeply moved by the Lord’s mercy, shown to him especially on the road to Damascus. Moving him to let go of all the things he previously considered valuable. Accepting the loss of everything for the sake of the Lord. All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. It’s as though that poor baboon in the movie were to suddenly find itself offered a juicy ripe mango, in exchange for letting them go…

Isn’t this the kind of exchange we are trying to facilitate in Lent? By helping one another recall, and gaze unflinchingly upon, all that the Lord has done for us, we hope to receive the grace to let go of the things that keep us trapped. Not just for our own sakes, but also for the sake of this tariff-threatened world of ours. For the sake of all who remain trapped by our common tendency to cling to passing things.

Sisters and brothers, of what melon seeds might the Lord be helping us to let go, so that we may cling instead to the delicious mango of his merciful love for us this Lent?