Monday After Epiphany
Light and Shadow

Readings: 1 John 3:22–4:6; Psalm 2:7bc-8, 10-12a; Matthew 4:12-17, 23-25

Test the spirits to see whether they belong to God…

In the wake of the solemn feast of the Epiphany, the Mass readings and prayers for today contain many references to the Light. Most notably, the gospel contains a quotation from Isaiah (8:23-9:1): the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light… The congregation to which I was sent to minister over Christmas had a quite literal experience of this verse shortly before the beginning of one of the dawn Masses. There was, apparently, a problem with the overhead projector, which caused the circuit-breaker to trip. For several long minutes, the whole church was plunged into pitch darkness. You can imagine the cheers when the lights finally came on…

But joy is not the only result of the Light’s coming. The beginning of Jesus’ public ministry in the gospel also brings with it another crucial benefit. In the words of Psalm 36:9, with you is the fountain of life, and in your light we see light… The light of Christ enables us to distinguish more clearly light from shadow. Or, in the words of the first reading, Christ helps us to test the spirits that are at work in the world, to see whether they belong to God…

To do this, we need to contemplate the effects of the Light’s presence. We need to consider the words and works of Jesus. In today’s gospel, the most obvious and comforting of these is, of course, healing. We’re told that great crowds gathered from all over the country and followed Jesus because he cured every disease and illness among the people. But physical and emotional healing is not the only sign of the Light’s presence. The gospel also tells us that Jesus preached the challenging message of repentance and reconciliation. Repent for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand. Among the great crowds who flocked to him, we may wonder how many actually heard this deeper message. How many actually correctly read the miracles worked by the Lord as signs of a deeper truth, a more urgent calling…

There is yet another aspect to the Light’s coming that is just as demanding and no less essential. We find a hint of this at the beginning of today’s gospel, which speaks of the arrest of John the Baptist. Not only does the Light come to heal and to reconcile, but the Light also brings this about in a very distinctive way, by submitting, in love, to the humiliation of the Cross…

Like the community to whom the first reading is addressed, we too live our lives in the midst of a diversity of spirits, voices that prompt us to think, feel and act in very distinctive ways. And doesn’t it also remain true that there continue to be false prophets among us? Isn’t it crucial for us to be able to distinguish light from shadow, to continue to test the spirits against the Light who is Christ?

How are we being called to do this today?

5 January
Under the Fig Tree

Readings: 1 John 3:11-21; Psalm 100:1b-2, 3, 4, 5; John 1:43-51

Our readings today remind me of scenes from two movies. In The Human Stain, a young African-American man, whose skin is fair enough to allow him to pass for a Caucasian, decides to assume the identity of a white-man. He does so because this is the only way to get ahead in a severely bigoted society. And he is willing to do this even though it requires him to sever all ties with his family. In the poignant scene where he finally reveals his plan to his mother, she responds by calling him a murderer. But why a murderer? Unlike Cain of the first reading, he hasn’t cut anybody’s throat. And yet, by choosing to deny their very existence, hasn't he, in a sense, killed every member of his family? Once he puts his plan into action, they will be as good as dead to him.

Indeed, there are many different ways to take another’s life. We can do it with a sharp knife. But we can also just as easily do it with a sharp tongue, as well as with the dull edge of willful neglect. And, as the movie shows us, we can do it also by choosing not to acknowledge the reality of another’s dignity as a human being. All this makes the message of the first reading all the more significant for us. For it presents us with only two alternatives. We can either be murderers or lovers. We can either choose to live for ourselves or we can lay down our lives for God and for others. There is no middle ground. How then to avoid the first alternative and embrace the second.

The gospel shows us the way by describing the encounter between Jesus and Nathanael. What indication do we have of Nathanael’s initial murderous tendencies? Is it not in his response to Philip? Can anything good come out of Nazareth? In one sentence, Nathanael seeks to dismiss the existence of Jesus. He is from Nazareth, and I know all about the people of Nazareth. No need to see him. But, with the help of Philip, Jesus helps Nathanael to see. The journey begins under the fig tree. But what exactly happens there?

In the movie adaptation of Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club, a mother is conversing with her daughter as they clear the dinner table after some guests have left. The daughter is upset because her mother seems to have been comparing her to the more attractive and successful daughter of a family friend. But the mother responds by continually repeating the words, I see you! She reassures her daughter that the latter’s kindness has not escaped her attention. She has seen how her daughter chooses the less appetizing pieces of food at the dinner table so that others can have the best. She has seen beyond appearances and found goodness by looking into her daughter’s heart. I see you…

Isn’t this also how Jesus leads Nathanael from death to life, from blindness to sight? Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree… In other words, I have chosen to look beyond what others have told me about you, beyond my own preconceived notions of who you might be, beyond even your own self-estimation. I have looked into your heart with the eyes of my own and seen your goodness. There is no duplicity in him…

The impossible journey from selfishness to love, from the taking of others’ lives to the laying down of one’s own, begins under the fig tree. It begins when we experience ourselves being seen by the Lord, being known by him for who we really are. In this way, we are given courage to see for ourselves, to witness the angels of God ascending and descending upon the reality we might at first wish to deny, upon the people whom we might at first be tempted to kill. And in seeing, we are moved to love...

Where might we find our fig tree today?

4 January
Children Born of Searching

Readings: 1 John 3:7-10; Psalm 98:1, 7-8, 9; John 1:35-42

In this way, the children of God and the children of the Devil are made plain…

As we continue to celebrate the birth of the child who comes to save his people, the first reading invites us to consider the stark contrast that his coming among us uncovers. It tells us how to distinguish between the children of God and the children of the Devil. We are familiar with the words used to describe the criteria involved: No one who is begotten by God commits sin… No one who fails to act in righteousness belongs to God, nor anyone who does not love his brother… Sin, righteousness, love – these are words we have heard many times in the past. Yet, isn’t it true that apparent familiarity can often also hide great ignorance? Isn’t this the experience of the Pharisees of Jesus’ day?

Which is why the gospel today is so useful. Here we find a story that depicts the process by which people become children of God. It is helpful first to notice that the characters in the story are all engrossed in different expressions of a single action. What were the two disciples of John the Baptist doing when they followed Jesus? They were searching for something or someone. And so engrossed were they in this search that they were willing even to leave behind their first master. They were willing to forsake the familiar for the novel. And they were able to do this because they believed that while the first was the promise, the second was its fulfillment.

And they are aided in this first search by a second one. Jesus leads them to ransack their own hearts for the answer to his question: what are you looking for? And in the process, they come to see that, in truth, their search has led them to the One who has traveled from all eternity in search of them. We have found the Messiah… Isn’t this a useful picture of the righteousness that escapes the snare of sin? Rather than being obsessed simply with avoiding wrongdoing, the children of God are instead engrossed in seeking the One who is the very embodiment of righteousness, the One who emptied himself even unto death, the Lamb of God himself.

There is yet a third search in this process, one that makes concrete the commandment of love. What does Andrew do after finding Jesus? He seeks out his brother Peter and brings him to the Lord...

As we continue to deepen our appreciation of the mystery of Christmas, the great feast by which we celebrate our becoming and remaining children of God, perhaps we can consider how we being called to search.

What are you looking for?

3 January
Seeing Unto Song

Readings: 1 John 2:29–3:6; Psalm 98:1, 3cd-4, 5-6; John 1:29-34

Have you ever closely followed a drama series on television? It can be highly addictive. The viewing of one episode simply makes you want to watch the next… and the next… until you reach the grand finale. Isn’t this why some people decide to buy the whole series on VCD or DVD? So that they can watch the whole series at their own pace and leisure? Indeed, I know some who find these serials so compelling that they will even have their meals and do their housework in front of the TV.

This eagerness to see more probably captures something of the disposition that our readings present to us today. What happens to people who truly experience the mystery of Christ’s coming among us? What happens, for example, to people such as Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and the wise men? Having seen the episode where the baby appears in a manger, do they simply go back to their lives as if nothing has changed? On the contrary, once they have caught sight of the love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God, they hunger for more. They are impelled to look out for further sightings of God’s love in their daily lives.

And seeing is not all that they do, for there’s another aspect to this happy addiction that parallels what happens to those who watch TV serials. If the serial is good enough, not only do you want to keep seeing it for yourself, but you are also driven to sing its praises to others, to share with others what you like about it. Isn’t this why people form appreciation clubs? They can’t keep the experience to themselves. We see something similar in the readings too. The psalmist exhorts us, for example, to sing to the Lord a new song because all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation by our God. And this too is the experience of John the Baptist in the gospel. Having seen Jesus, having baptized him and witnessed the Spirit come down like a dove from the sky and remain upon him, John exclaims: now I have seen and testified that he is the Son of God.

And where does this seeing and singing lead? How does this serial end? What will be its Grand Finale? In the words of the first reading: what we shall be has not yet been revealed… when it is revealed we shall see him as he is… This is what we can all look forward to: beholding the beauty of God as he is, and singing his praises for all eternity.

But that is in the future. For now everyone who has this hope… makes himself pure. Turning aside from every distraction, we need to keep striving to catch sight of Christ in the here and now, to see him in a way that moves us to sing of him in the sight of others.

How are we being invited to do this today?

2 January
Memorial of Ss. Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen
Celebrating By Remaining

Readings: 1 John 2:22-28; Psalm 98:1, 2-3ab, 3cd-4; John 1:19-28

On the second day of the new year I find myself in a culture that revels in its ability to celebrate. Christmas has been a rather prolonged and intense period of caroling in homes and liturgies in church. For nine days before Christmas, I’ve witnessed hordes of people flocking to the dawn Masses (beginning at 4:30am) and been moved and inspired by their devotion. The New Year was heralded with similar fervor. Fireworks and feasting probably preoccupied many, even the poor. In a way, it’s a refreshing contrast to the culture back home, which is still learning how to let its hair down once in a while. There’s much to learn here.

But there is also a shadow side to all this. According to locals, many who flocked to the dawn Masses and who filled the churches on Christmas Day will probably only be seen again next Christmas. And the revelry that rang in the New Year also resulted in fingers being blown off by misfired rockets. Further, and even more significantly, the festive cheer will most likely have little if any impact on the social ills – such as endemic corruption and ongoing marginalization of the poor – that continue to plague the nation. From what I gather, the celebratory spirit that I find so impressive will be as short-lived as it was spontaneous.

It will be so, I suspect, because this kind of celebration often resembles one of two things. Many of those who go to church only at Christmas probably liken their annual celebrations to the buying of insurance. All you have to do is pay your premiums periodically and then you can rest assured that your security will be provided for the rest of the time. And for those who celebrate the New Year by igniting fireworks and shooting guns, celebration has to do with letting off steam. The pressures and frustrations of daily existence are so great that they require some outlet every so often. But little thought is given to why there is a build-up of steam in the first place and how it might be alleviated.

In contrast, our readings on this second day of the New Year present us with a quite different approach to celebration. It is expressed, quite strikingly, in a word that appears no less than six times in the first reading. The scriptures teach us that to celebrate means to remain. It means remaining in Christ, and allowing Christ to remain in us. And the gospel shows us the implications of this kind of celebration by reminding us of the experience of John the Baptist. He who was visited by the newly conceived Son of God, even while he was in his mother’s womb, remained in communion with Christ by spending his life preparing the way for Him. Even to the extent of literally losing his head.

Today is already the 2nd of January. Christmas Day and New Year’s Day are past. Yet, in a sense, our celebrations need to continue.

How are we being called to remain in Christ today?