Deepening Our Identity

The Nativity of the Lord

(Mass During the Day)

Readings: Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 97 (98):1-6; Hebrews 1:1-6; John 1:1-18

Picture: By sayan Nath on Unsplash

Which do you think is better? To receive good news from someone else, or to actually see or experience it for oneself? For example, given a choice, which is a child more likely to prefer? To be told by someone else how much her parents love her, or to experience that love for herself? What’s the difference? I’m not sure, but perhaps it’s something like what we find in a recently released Channel News Asia video, about the Night Cafe operated by Catholic Welfare Services.

Started in 2019, and closed during the Covid pandemic, before being reopened last year, the Night Cafe caters to so-called rough sleepers. In addition to offering them a complimentary meal and convivial companionship, the Cafe also provides a safe space for staff and volunteers to interact with rough sleepers in a more sustained way. Hasan is one of the patrons featured in the video. One evening, after having frequented the Cafe every week for 8 months, Hasan approached the manager, Brian, for help with an issue that had long been weighing heavily upon his heart. He had lost his national registration identity card many years ago, and didn’t have the means to get it replaced. In the video, Brian describes the moment when Hasan walked into the Cafe on a later visit, and joyfully flashed his new identity card for all to see. Not only did everyone share his jubilation, they also noticed a significant change in the man. He stood taller, and no longer slouched and dragged his feet like before… It’s one thing to be told that there are people who care about us. It’s quite another to actually experience that care for ourselves.

The difference between hearing good news from someone else and actually experiencing it for oneself. Isn’t this also what we find in our readings today? Poetically, the first reading describes the wonderful feeling of watching the approach of messengers bearing good news. Their footsteps on the mountains are made beautiful by the joyous message they bring: The Lord is consoling Jerusalem; setting her children free from oppression; bringing them back from exile in a foreign land. As a result, Jerusalem is encouraged to rejoice greatly. Yet, in a mysterious way, the reading also tells of how Jerusalem’s watchmen shout for joy together, not just because they receive messengers of good news, but because they see the Lord face to face. They experience for themselves the consolation of the Lord.

As joyful as it is to receive Good News from others, it’s even more joyful to experience it for oneself. Isn’t this also what we find in the other two readings? At various times in the past… God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets; but in our own time… he has spoken to us through his Son… The Word was made flesh, he lived among us, and we saw his glory… Not satisfied with simply sending messengers to proclaim God’s love for us, in the person of Jesus––through his Birth and his Life, his Dying and his Rising––God gathers us into the Divine embrace. In Christ, we see the Lord face to face. For no one has ever seen God; it is the only Son… who has made him known. 

And as if this were not enough, the gospel also speaks of how, in Christ, we all receive a new identity. Or rather, we are given a share in Christ’s own identity. By being gathered into the only Son of the Father, we are given power to become children of God. Power not just to rejoice in God’s Fatherly love for us, but also to share that love with others. Power even to bear the face and to serve as the hands and feet of God in the world, as Jesus did. Tenderly ushering others into God’s embrace. Isn’t this the marvellous gift that Jesus brings? Isn’t this what we celebrate at Christmas? But as with any other gift, this grace needs to be accepted. Much like how a child can experience the warmth of her parent’s embrace, only if she stops running around long enough to allow herself to be enfolded in her parent’s arms. As the gospel reminds us, Jesus came to his own domain and his own people did not accept him. But to all who did accept him, he gave power to become children of God.

How then to better accept Jesus? How to allow Him to usher us ever more deeply into God’s embrace? So that we may then be better able to usher others into it? Isn’t this a question that we have already been pondering in Advent? And don’t we need to continue pondering it together over the Christmas season? How to better accept Jesus… How to allow Him to usher us ever more deeply into God’s embrace… For a start, perhaps we might consider these three possibilities. First, to recall some of the blessings we have received from God, asking to recognise in them the face and voice, the hands and feet of Christ himself. Second, to bring whatever might be weighing heavily on our hearts to the Lord. Asking him to lighten our burdens, and to give us the strength to bear them in a way that befits children of God. And, third, to find fitting ways to share our gifts with those who need them most. Blessings, burdens, and need. Three possible steps for accepting Jesus.

In the CNA video mentioned earlier, Hasan tells us that after receiving his new identity card, he has since found a job and a place in a shelter. He’s also now waiting for a HDB flat. But he still returns to the Night Cafe every week. Brian says it’s because, for Hasan, this is family dinner. In other words, it has become part of his identity. Sisters and brothers, how does the Lord wish to deepen our identity this Christmas?

Accidents, Albatrosses & Avenues of Grace

4th Sunday of Advent (A)

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-14; Psalm 23 (24):1-6; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-24

Picture: By Usman Malik on Unsplash

Do you like accidents? Sounds like a silly question, since the word brings to mind something unfortunate or tragic, such as a traffic accident. And nobody likes those, right? But accident also has a more neutral meaning. Such as when we say, they met by accident. Here, the word refers to something unforeseen, unplanned, unscripted. Yet whether an accident is truly tragic or simply unforeseen, it often requires us to respond in some way, even to make a difficult choice of some kind.

Earlier this month, a new permanent exhibition opened at the National Library. Some of us here have probably already seen or heard about it. Drawing from a trove of recently declassified documents, codenamed the Albatross File, the exhibition shines a light on the circumstances that led to Singapore’s departure from Malaysia. According to conventional wisdom, Separation was something that befell us like an accident. Something unforeseen, unplanned, unscripted. We were kicked out. But the documents add important nuance to this familiar story. They show that, as painful and risky as Separation may have been, it was also something that some of our leaders at the time actually wished for, and worked hard to bring about. Merger was the original plan. What was unplanned were the intractable problems that resulted, including two racial riots leading to bloodshed and tragic loss of life. Collectively, these problems were the accident that made Merger feel like a burdensome albatross around our neck. Requiring our leaders to respond, to make a difficult choice: Stick to the plan, cling to the script, or leave? Somehow, we found the courage to leave. And, as they say, the rest is history. Our history.

A challenging accident calling for a courageous response. This is also what we find in each of our readings today. In the first reading, the northern kingdoms of Syria and Israel have joined forces, and are preparing to invade Judah. Faced with this impending accident, Ahaz, the king of Judah, has to make a difficult choice. What to do? How to respond? Through the prophet Isaiah, God invites Ahaz to seek guidance from God. Ask the Lord your God for a sign… But Ahaz refuses. Not because he doesn’t want to test God, but because he has made his own plans, he has written his own script. He intends to enlist the help of the mighty Assyrian Empire. Choosing to rely on a proven military power, rather than to trust in an invisible God. Even so, despite Ahaz’s lack of trust in God, God still sends him a sign of God’s steadfast love. A young woman in the king’s court will soon bear a son, whose name will serve to remind everyone that, despite their lack of faith, God-is-(still)-with-us.

In the gospel, it is Joseph’s turn to meet with an accident. An unexpected apparently adulterous pregnancy. What to do? How to respond? Although it may look like a deviation from the plan, an informal divorce is really part of the existing script. It’s what the Law prescribes. But God has other plans. God is renewing the script. (D)o not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife…. She will give birth to a son…. the one who is to save his people from their sins… Somehow, unlike his ancestor Ahaz, Joseph finds the courage to obey all of God’s instructions, to the very last detail. As a result, the ancient prophecies are fulfilled. The steadfast love of God takes flesh in our world as a Son of David. Bringing grace and peace to us all.

And isn’t this what Paul is describing in the second reading? The grace and peace that flow from humbly obeying God’s call. And don’t we know how Paul himself came to receive this call? On the road to Damascus, while executing a misguided plan to persecute Christians, he meets with an accident. A blinding light and a piercing voice, which stop him in his tracks. Requiring him to make a choice: Stick to his own plan, cling to his own script, or follow the one God is offering him. And what Paul is reminding the Romans, is that God’s voice is addressed to them and to us too. Calling us to belong to Christ, to be saints, and to fulfil the apostolic mission to preach the obedience of faith to all.

An invading army, an unplanned pregnancy, and a mysterious encounter on a dusty road. These are among the accidents we find in our readings today. And to them, we might add those that we ourselves may face in our own lives. Such as an unsettling medical report, undesirable exam or school-posting results, an unsustainable work-life routine, or the unwelcome signs of the natural diminishment that accompanies advancing age… Even if unforeseen, unplanned and unscripted, these experiences may well be doorways through which God wishes to enter. To free us from the burden of sin, and to bless us with God’s abundant love and grace, God’s overflowing mercy and peace. But first we need to receive the wisdom and courage to respond as Joseph and Paul did. To exercise the obedience of faith, and to heed that gentle yet insistent call so beautifully expressed in our psalm response: Let the Lord enter! He is the king of glory.

Sisters and brothers, amid the accidents and albatrosses of our lives, how might we better respond to God’s call this Christmas?

The Bungalow, The Mountain & The Wilderness

2nd Sunday of Advent (A)

Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 71 (72):1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17; Romans 15:4-9; Matthew 3:1-12

Picture: By Vivek on Unsplash

What does keeping the peace look like? Here’s a true story that some of us may find familiar. A wealthy but childless Singaporean widow in her eighties goes on a trip abroad, and befriends her foreign tour guide. A year later, the guide moves into the widow’s huge bungalow with her, claiming she wants him to be her grandson. Three years after that, he obtains permanent residency in Singapore, and moves his wife and two children to live with him in the bungalow. He also convinces the widow to will all her assets to him, and to grant him legal authority to manage all her financial affairs. Not long after, the widow is diagnosed with dementia. At this point, seen only from the outside, that bungalow might have looked like nothing more than the peaceful home of a caring adopted family. But the widow’s niece is not convinced. She takes steps to expose the guide’s exploitation of her aunt, and to reverse it. He is thrown in jail, and then deported, and forbidden to enter Singapore again. Just a few days ago, it was reported in the news that the now-deceased widow’s bungalow has been sold for $22 million. A peaceful ending to a story that could easily have turned out very differently. If not for the widow’s niece. Who had the wisdom to see through a false peace, and the courage to intervene. As a result, a vulnerable person was protected, and a cunning predator brought to justice. Peace through wise and courageous intervention. Isn’t this what we find in our scriptures today?

There are no bungalows in our readings for this 2nd Sunday of Advent. Instead our attention is split between two other locations. The first reading invites us to imagine and to look forward to an incredibly safe place, God’s holy mountain. Here both predators and their prey live harmoniously together. The wolf with the lamb, the panther with the kid, the lion with the calf. And even such a typically dangerous and highly toxic environment as a nest full of poisonous snakes, is rendered safe enough for a child to put its hand in it. For they do no hurt, no harm, on all my holy mountain. And all this is made possible only through the loving intervention of God, who anoints a leader to rule this marvellous place. On this leader the spirit of the Lord rests, giving him power to judge the wretched with integrity, and with equity to give a verdict for the poor of the land.

It is the coming of this Anointed One, and the rise of this same holy mountain, that John the Baptist proclaims in the gospel. But this proclamation takes place at yet another location. Not a safe and holy mountain, but a chaotic and fearsome wilderness. Where predators remain dangerous, and poisonous snakes highly toxic. Which is why the Baptist does more than just share information. He also calls to conversion. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is close at hand. And when certain Pharisees and Sadducees come to him for baptism. John doesn’t just take their external profession of sorrow at face value. Instead he challenges them to show concrete signs of conversion. For just as a predatory tour guide can slyly make his home in a widow’s bungalow, and poisonous snakes can hide under the desert sand, so too can sinful attitudes and unjust processes take cover behind pious practices. Rather than leaving a brood of vipers to do what they like, the Baptist has the wisdom and courage to intervene. Like how the widow’s niece intervened to protect her aunt from a scam artist. Bringing their hidden poison into the light of day. So that the vulnerable may be kept safe.

But there is a price to be paid for this way of keeping the peace. As we know, later in Matthew’s gospel (14:1-12), the Baptist will be thrown in prison for intervening in King Herod’s marital affairs, eventually losing his head to an executioner’s blade. And remembering all this might help us to better understand what we find in the second reading. Here, St Paul prays that God may help his audience to be tolerant with each other, following the example of Christ Jesus. But what exactly is the example of toleration shown by Jesus? Surely it’s not the kind that leaves poisonous snakes unchecked, particularly if they endanger the vulnerable. For much as the Lord delighted in the company of outcastes and public sinners, he also saw fit to challenge the corrupt and hypocritical. And like John the Baptist before him, the Lord paid the price for his actions with his own life. Dying on a cross, before being raised up on the Third Day.

While it is true that sometimes keeping the peace means simply letting things be, there are also other times when it requires us to intervene. And this is especially true when we encounter an unsafe or unjust environment. Whether that environment be around us or even within our own hearts. Then, as baptised Christians, we are called to intervene, by repenting and calling to repentance. Which brings to mind the memorable title that Pope Saint Paul VI chose for his message on the occasion of the World Day of Peace back in 1972: If you want peace, work for justice. These days, a similar message, expressed in much simpler words, is often posted in many places, even around our church: See something, say something. Isn’t this what that widow’s niece did? And isn’t this what wise parents do, when they curb their teenager’s screen-time, and pay the price for it?

Whether or not we live in a bungalow, the season of Advent reminds us that we are all still on the way between two key spiritual locations: the danger of the wilderness, and the safety of God’s holy mountain. Sisters and brothers, what must we do to help one another keep moving in the right direction today?