Monday in the 17th Week of Ordinary Time (II)
Memorial of St. Ignatius of Loyola
Ignatian Way

Readings: Jeremiah 13:1-11; Deuteronomy 32:18-19, 20, 21; Matthew 13:31-35

On this feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola, the readings for ordinary time help us to reflect upon some characteristically Ignatian themes. In keeping with Ignatius’s own preference for referring to himself as a pilgrim, we shall organize our reflection along the lines of a spiritual journey. There is an intended destination, a way of proceeding, and a strategy for moving along the way.

The destination of Ignatius’ pilgrimage is summarized in the well-known and oft-quoted Ignatian phrase: to the greater glory of God. Reference is made to it in the opening prayer today. But what does this mean? Our first reading from the prophet Jeremiah brings out one important aspect. Notice how the reading ends: I had intended the whole House of Judah to cling to me… to be my people, my glory, my honor and my boast. God’s glory is found in God’s people, but only and especially when they cling to Him, as God intended. Here we are reminded of the following words from St. Irenaeus: the glory of God is the human person fully alive. God is not a tyrant. His glory is not opposed to, but consists precisely in human flourishing. When people enjoy intimate communion with their Creator (remember the loincloth), when the love of Christ comes to maturity in their hearts and bears fruit in their lives, that is when God is glorified. The greater the intimacy and communion, the greater the glory.

If this is so, the glory of God does not – indeed cannot – consist solely in the external observance of rules and rites, religious or moral. One can do all the right things for the wrong reasons. Rather, the way to the greater glory of God must pass through one’s heart. Notice the nature of God’s complaint in the first reading: this (is an) evil people who refuse to listen to my words, who follow the dictates of their own hard hearts… What is needed then is a softening of the heart – a turning from arrogance to humility. The crucial point is that the way begins with the desires of the heart. We find a similar approach in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. At the beginning of each prayer period, Ignatius encourages the one who prays to beg for that which I desire. Indeed the whole of the Spiritual Exercises is structured according to these graces, these desires for which one begs. Ironically, this is not always easy to follow. We are not always comfortable with allowing ourselves to become aware of and to express our own deepest desires. If something is truly of God, if something is to lead to God’s greater glory, it must be something very difficult, something that goes against the grain, or so we tend to think. There’s some truth in this. Jesus himself had to struggle in Gethsemane. But notice how Jesus’ struggle was also to discern and follow what was his own deepest desire: not just to be safe from physical harm, but to follow His Father’s will.

Given what we have said so far, what might be an effective strategy for helping ourselves and others to move along this way to God’s greater glory? If the way is that of the heart, of intimacy and love, then the strategy cannot be the strict imposition of rules and regulations. People cannot be forced to fall in love – even with God. They instead have to be allured, even seduced (see, e.g., Jeremiah 20:7). One has to start from where people are, what they are comfortable with, and gently lead or accompany them to where they need to be. Ignatius expresses this in terms of entering through another’s door in order to lead him/her through ours. And is this not what God is doing in the first reading? The use of the parable-in-action is not simply because God is keen on theatrics. Rather, the strategy is to help the people to see that their happiness lies in intimate contact with God, just as a loincloth clings to a man’s waist.

Of course, this strategy is not always the quickest. Neither are the results always the most obvious. But, like the mustard seed and the yeast in the gospel, once the process is begun, the growth is inevitable and impressive, not just for the pilgrim but also for all with whom the pilgrim comes in direct or indirect contact. It was so with Ignatius, as it was for Christ.

How are we being called to walk this Ignatian and Christian way today?

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)
A Tale of Two Economies

Readings: 2 Kings 4:42-44; Psalm 145:10-11, 15-16, 17-18; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15

Money makes the world go round… So goes an old song, the rest of which I don’t remember. Of course, scientifically, we know that the revolution of our globe has more to do with gravity than with dollars and cents. Still, there’s quite a bit of truth in the words of that song. Economic factors are indeed among the foremost considerations in the choices we make everyday – not just in our families, but especially on the national and international scene. And practically speaking, we can’t do otherwise, can we? Economics is a fact of life. We cannot but take it into consideration when we make decisions. Still, it’s important for us to reflect more deeply upon the kind of economy that we should aspire towards, especially in light of what the scriptures tell us today.

Our readings present us with two contrasting economies. The first is probably more familiar to us than the other. Let’s call it the economy of the world. What are its characteristics?

First consider its starting point. The economy of the world begins with a scarcity of material resources for human consumption, which gives rise to a problem of distribution. In both the first reading and the gospel, the question is how a very meager amount of food can be used to feed a huge multitude of people. In the first reading: twenty barley loaves and fresh grain for a hundred men. And in the gospel: five barley loaves and two fish for five thousand men, to say nothing of the women and children. Humanly speaking, it seems an impossible task.

It is this problem of scarcity that leads to a second characteristic of the economy of the world. Because there doesn’t seem enough to go around, the tendency is to keep what one has for oneself. As Elisha’s servant asks, How can I serve this to (so many)? The possible implication: better to keep it for ourselves. The economy of the world is thus often characterized by grasping and hoarding. We might symbolize it with the image of a clenched fist. Isn’t this, in effect, what the people in the gospel are trying to do when they wish to take (Jesus) by force and make him king? They are trying to keep for themselves this unbelievable discovery of theirs, this amazing bread-making machine named Jesus.

And we know that the clenched fist is used not only to grasp and hoard but also to fight to acquire and defend what one needs and wants. The result? Person is set against person, nation against nation. The economy of the world is thus an economy of violence and division. Again we are reminded of the people’s willingness to take Jesus by force.

Sounds all too familiar, doesn’t it? Indeed, this economy is to be found not just in the scriptures. We see it at work around us everyday. It determines much of how nations relate to one another. It also often determines the choices we ourselves make: what to do with our money, our time, our talents…

In contrast, our readings also present us with another radically different economy. Let’s call it the economy of God.

Again, we begin by considering its starting point. We notice how although it takes into consideration the reality of seemingly scarce material resources, this is not its true beginning. Rather, it goes behind this reality, as it were, and considers to whom these resources belong and from whom they come. Listen again to what the psalmist says: The eyes of all creatures look to you and you give them their food in due time. The starting point of this economy is God. It then follows that – despite all appearances to the contrary – this economy cannot but be an economy of abundance. For God will provide.

Notice how the psalmist not only acknowledges that all of this world’s goods ultimately come from God and belong to God, but also that God intends that they be used to feed all of creation. In the Church’s social teaching, this is called the principle of the universal destination of goods. In contrast then to the earlier economy of grasping, this is an economy of generosity. It is the same generosity that prompts the man in the first reading and the boy in the gospel to share their meager resources with others. And it is the same generosity that ultimately characterizes how God deals with creation. Again, notice what the psalmist says: You open wide your hand, grant the desires of all who live. In contrast to the earlier economy of the clenched fist, this is an economy of the open hand.

Notice also a crucial result of this economy of the open hand. No more violence and division. In their place is the unity and peace described in the second reading. It is in the spirit of this economy that the Ephesians are being encouraged to do all you can to preserve the unity of the Spirit by the peace that binds you together.

We live in a world held in thrall by the economy of the clenched fist, even as it yearns desperately for the economy of the open hand. As followers of Christ, the Open Hand of God, how are we being called to help mediate the transition – in our persons, in our families and communities, in our country and in our world?

Saturday in the 16th Week of Ordinary Time (II)
Under Construction

(NB: The following reflection is based on the readings for the weekday. Today's Mass readings should, however, be taken from the memorial of St. Martha. Apologies for the oversight.)

I find myself in a city furiously preparing to host a significant international event. There’s much construction and renovation – both structural and social – with the inevitable upheaval and chaos that accompanies such efforts. Ideally, when one’s home undergoes renovation, one moves to a temporary dwelling till the work is done. But what if there is no other place to go? Then one has to stick it out in the hope that human effort will indeed bear good fruit in the near future.

Something similar is being described by Jesus when he compares the kingdom of heaven to a field sown with both wheat and darnel. This field could well be an image of our world. As even a cursory glance at the daily news will tell us, it’s not a pretty sight. At best, it’s a mixed field that’s not quite ready for harvest. Like the city, it’s a construction project that’s far from complete. There’s beauty, but also much ugliness; goodness, but also much evil. Yet, despite the chaos and upheaval, it’s the only world we have. There’s no escaping to another dwelling – temporary or otherwise. This is where we have to remain.

The consolation for us – indeed, even a cause of great rejoicing – is that God does not observe from a distance. Rather, it is God who matures the wheat and fashions the skyline. God is no spectator. God gets His hands dirty – even to the extent of having them nailed to a cross. If there was one who could move to another dwelling, it would be God. Yet God chooses to stick it out with us, here in this valley of tears.

Still, we are not to be complacent. As the prophet reminds us, we are not simply to say, “This is the sanctuary of the Lord, the sanctuary of the Lord, the sanctuary of the Lord!” Rather, we are called to turn away from those tendencies within us that would sabotage the building project, those areas within our own hearts that are conducive to the growth of darnel. We are called to cooperate in God’s project, so that God’s kingdom may indeed come to fruition in our world; so that all creation may see “how lovely is (the) dwelling place” of the God of hosts.

Friday in the 16th Week of Ordinary Time (II)
Of Sowers and Shepherds, Soil and Sheep

Readings: Jeremiah 3:14-17; Jeremiah 31:10, 11-12abcd, 13; Matthew 13:18-23

Today we are presented with two images of how God relates to God’s people. Like a shepherd, God calls and gathers his scattered sheep. He leads them to pasture and guards them from danger. God is also like a sower, who scatters abroad the seed of God’s Word. And when that seed flourishes in good soil, God gathers a rich harvest for the Kingdom.

If like Sower and Shepherd, God indeed scatters and gathers, calls and guards, what might be the response required of us? Ours is to be rich soil and attentive sheep. We need to learn to be ever more open to the Seed of God’s Word, and ever quicker to recognize and eager to respond to the Shepherd’s voice.

And there is more. For are we not, in our turn, called to be shepherd’s and sowers too? “I will give you shepherds after my own heart,” says the Lord. We are called, gathered, and guarded not only for ourselves, but also so that through us, the Lord can call, gather and guard others. But this can only happen when we allow the Lord to give us His heart – the heart of the true Shepherd. Otherwise, our efforts at the ministry of consolation will inevitably degenerate into an exercise in manipulation for our own selfish benefit. To recall another biblical text, rather than pasture the sheep, we will instead pasture ourselves upon them (see, Ezekiel 34).

What kind of soil and sheep, what kind of sowers and shepherds are we?

Thursday in the 16th Week of Ordinary Time (II)
Acquiring the Taste for Life

Readings: Jeremiah 2:1-3, 7-8, 12-13; Psalm 36:6-7ab, 8-9, 10-11; Matthew 13:10-17

“They have abandoned me, the fountain of living water, only to dig cisterns for themselves, leaky cisterns that hold no water.”

It’s perhaps difficult to comprehend why the people addressed in today’s first reading decide to abandon the God who alone is their source of life, and who has continually demonstrated His undying love and fidelity to them, only to “dig… leaky cisterns” for themselves. Can they really be so faithless and foolish?

And yet, do we not also do the same ourselves? We too “dig leaky cisterns” don’t we? Do not many of us live as though we can shop our way to true happiness? (Indeed, is ours not a culture of consumerism? And is consumption not an essential aspect of the global economy?) Do we not place undue emphasis upon how others regard us? Do we not try to “keep up with the Joneses”? Do we not so easily forget that it is impossible to be truly happy ourselves without being conscious, and seeking to alleviate, the sufferings of others? And do we not succumb to the workaholism by which we forget that happiness is primarily a gift of God to be humbly received, rather than an object of anxious striving…

Still, we might continue to ask the question “why?” Why indeed do we “dig leaky cisterns”? The answer is provided by Jesus in the gospel: “the heart of this nation has grown coarse, their ears are dull of hearing and they have shut their eyes…” Like the people of Jesus’ time, we have lost our taste for the water of life.

Thankfully, Jesus also provides an antidote. He tells parables – stories with a hidden meaning. What do parables do? They puzzle and perplex, but only so that listeners might ponder and probe, might look beyond the obvious, so as to find the deeper meaning. Parables are invitations. They are the means by which a loving God ushers us into His presence, to gaze upon the face of the One who is “the source of life.” And let us not be mistaken. Parables are not only to be found in the Bible. In Christ, all of creation – yes, even the mundane aspects of daily living – are parables, invaluable opportunities for us to acquire the taste for the life-giving presence of God. Is it not common, for example, to hear of how various people struggle through particular crises in life, only to arrive at a new-found faith in the living God?

What are the “leaky cisterns” and “parables” in your life?