Saved from the Sinkhole

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Readings: Isaiah 35: 4-7; Psalm 145 (146): 7-10; James 2: 1-5; Mark 7: 31-37

Picture: cc horslips5 on Flickr

My dear friends, did you hear about that sinkhole, which appeared suddenly in Kuala Lumpur about a fortnight ago, and swallowed up a tourist walking along the pavement? How did the news make you feel? To be honest, I was very surprised, not just that a sinkhole should open up out of nowhere in the middle of a modern city, but also that despite an intense search lasting nine days, involving sniffer dogs and scuba divers, the unfortunate tourist still could not be found. I had naively thought that rescuing her would simply be a matter of lowering someone into the hole and lifting her out. Which just goes to show that a sinkhole is far more complex than I had imagined. And the same can also be said about what we find in our scriptures today.

The psalm tells us that the Lord is just to the oppressed, and raises up those who are bowed down. But what does oppression really look like? How does it feel to be bowed down? At first glance, each of our readings offers a simple enough answer. But upon deeper reflection, we find a far more complex reality. In the first reading, oppression comes in the form of a conquering foreign army, which both swallows up the nation, and carries off its people to a far-off land. Seems simple enough. And yet, the political sinkhole of conquest and exile has complex spiritual depths. For before being overrun by foreign armies, the people and their leaders had worshipped pagan gods. They had also oppressed the poor and vulnerable among them. And their idolatry and injustice have made them spiritually blind, deaf, and dumb. They have lost their ability to recognise the providential actions, to hear the loving communications, and to sing the joyful praises of the one true God. So more than simply releasing them from exile, rescue from oppression will have to involve somehow reopening their hearts to God.

Although the word oppression doesn’t appear in the second reading, the reality can be clearly seen in the discrimination suffered by the hypothetical poor person, who visits a synagogue and is treated as shabbily as he is dressed. At first glance, the remedy seems simple enough. Rebuke or replace the biased official. But the reading takes pains to point out that, although the official may play a part in it, the oppression doesn’t originate from him. It can be traced back to the double standards that he applies. Standards of the world, which are opposed to the standards of God. While the world favours the rich and powerful, God chooses those who are poor… to be rich in faith… and heirs of the kingdom… So it’s not just the one who is discriminated against who is oppressed, but also the one doing the discriminating. Again, as in the first reading, rescue will require a complex operation to help the oppressed become more open to God.

Finally, in the gospel too, what at first seems simple is actually more complex. At first glance, the deaf-mute is obviously oppressed by his own disability. And by healing him, Jesus seems to be performing a simple enough rescue operation. But the Lord’s words and actions before, during, and after the healing make it clear that something more complex is going on. Before healing the man, the Lord takes him aside in private, away from the crowd. Could this need for privacy be an indication that the man’s affliction is somehow related to the influences of the society in which he lives? Next, during the healing, Jesus says Ephphatha, Be opened. Could this command have not only a physical meaning, but also a spiritual one? Restoring the man’s ability to hear God’s word, and to sing God’s praises? Then, after the healing, the crowds persist in publicising it enthusiastically, even though Jesus had ordered them to keep it secret. Ironically, although the Lord succeeds in restoring the deaf man’s hearing, he fails to get the crowd to listen to his instruction. For they still do not understand who he really is. They remain closed. In Mark’s gospel, it is only when the Lord’s body hangs broken and lifeless on the cross that someone will finally be open enough to say, Truly this man was God’s Son! (Mk 15:39).

And what about us? What comes to our minds when we hear the word oppression? In this Season of Creation, we may rightly think first of our ailing planet… Or perhaps of the pitiful Palestinians in Gaza… Or the roaming Rohingya of Myanmar… Or the late Ms Piang Ngaih Don, that poor domestic helper, cruelly beaten and starved to death by her employers, back in 2016, right here in our own shiny city… Or all those struggling to cope with the changing face of work, and the rising costs of living… And how can we forget the current cohort of students and their parents, desperately preparing for that annual trial that we call the PSLE?…

Sisters and brothers, how might the Lord be seeking to rescue us from different sinkholes of oppression, as well as recruiting us to help rescue others today?

Submitting to the Shape

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Readings: Deuteronomy 4: 1-2, 6-8; Psalm 14 (15): 2-5; James 1: 17-18, 21-22, 27; Mark 7: 1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Picture: By Benjamin Voros on Unsplash

My dear friends, what is the shape of water? This is obviously a trick question, right? For we know that water takes on the shape of whichever container it happens to be poured into. But even if water doesn’t have its own shape, it does have a distinct purity. It can be polluted by impurities found in its container, which can interfere with water’s ability to fulfil its different functions. Badly polluted water can no longer be used for quenching thirst, or sustaining life. It may even endanger public health. Which is why it’s important to keep water containers clean. And to do this, we rely on yet another function of water, its ability to purify… The shifting shape, the distinct purity, and the different functions of water. It’s helpful to keep all these in mind, because we find something similar in our scriptures today.

When the word of God is poured into the people of Israel in the first reading, it takes on a particular shape. It is received as a set of laws and customs, commandments of the Lord. Which are meant to fulfil various functions. By carefully observing the Law, the Israelites will allow themselves to be moulded into God’s own people. They will live a full life in the Promised Land. They will also demonstrate to their gentile neighbours how good and how wise is the God they worship, as well as how close God is to them. By keeping the Law, the Israelites will both enrich their lives, and glorify God’s name.

So the Law is not intended to be a crushing burden, but a precious gift. A blessing, not just for the Israelites, but also for the gentile nations among whom they live. As the second reading reminds us, it is all that is good and everything that is perfect, which is given to us from above. Unfortunately, the Israelites fail to maintain the purity of the Law. Over time, their leaders allow their observance of the Law to be polluted by worldly concerns, tainted by the craving for power and money, security and control. And the second reading teaches us how to recognise when pollution like this occurs, by reminding us that, in addition to its other functions, religion is also an expression of mercy. Pure, unspoilt religion… is… coming to the help of orphans and widows when they need it. Much like how God rescued the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, and led them into the freedom of the Promised Land. In contrast, just as contaminated water loses its ability to sustain life, so too does polluted religion fail to show mercy. On the contrary, it leads to oppression. Both the material oppression of the poor and vulnerable, as well as the spiritual oppression of the rich and self-sufficient. Polluted religion results in the sacrifice of human life and wellbeing.

Thankfully, out of God’s infinite mercy, the word of God is again poured into our world, more generously than ever before. Appearing among us no longer in the form of mere legal pronouncements, but in the shape of a living human person. Someone humble and secure enough in God’s love to resist every form of pollution. And just as water can be used to cleanse contaminated containers, so too does Jesus purify the perverted religion practised in his day. In the gospel, he does this by uncovering the hypocrisy of certain external religious observances, and tracing them back to their origins in the human heart. If the Pharisees and scribes abuse religion by turning it into just another way to line their pockets and inflate their egos, it is only because their hearts are filled with impurities like anxiety and avarice, which hinder them from truly accepting and submitting to God’s word. For it is from within human hearts that evil intentions emerge, rendering even outwardly pious practices unclean.

Actually the dangers of polluted religion should come as no surprise to us. We see its tragic effects all around our world, most obviously in outbreaks of religiously motivated violence. But if these deadly fruits of pollution are truly rooted in the evil intentions within human hearts, then more than simply lamenting and denouncing polluted religion in others, don’t we need to also seek to uncover it in ourselves? By prayerfully examining the sincerity of our external actions, and the dispositions of our own hearts. As well as by gauging the extent to which our religious observance translates into actual expressions of mercy shown to those who suffer, including those closest to us, as well as creation itself. But we need to do this with great care. For if it is true that all that is good originates not from us, but from above, then the power to purify our hearts can come to us only as God’s merciful gift. Which God already bestows upon us so abundantly in Christ. What is left for us to do is to beg God for the willingness to humbly accept this gift, even if it may sometimes appear in inconvenient shapes. Such as the call to change our lifestyles in the direction of greater sustainability.

Sisters and brothers, what particular shape or shapes is God’s mercy taking in our lives today?

More Than Just An Obstacle...

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Readings: Joshua 24: 1-2, 15-18; Psalm 33 (34): 2-3,16-23; Ephesians 5: 21-32 or Ephesians 5: 2a, 25-32; John 6:60-69

Picture: By Tadeusz Lakota on Unsplash

My dear friends, when is an obstacle more than just an obstacle? A man once went for a stroll in the woods with his dog. As they walked together, along a narrow forest path, the dog suddenly stood very still, and blocked its owner’s way. It even started to growl when the man tried to walk past it. At first the man was puzzled. It was only later, when he spotted a poisonous snake slithering across the path, that he realised the reason for his trusty companion’s curious behaviour… Sometimes an obstacle is more than just an obstacle. It may also be a warning, a call to greater vigilance and care. Don’t we find something similar in our scriptures today?

As we may recall from previous weeks, in the gospel, Jesus has been claiming that he is the living bread which has come down from heaven, and that those who wish to enjoy the fullness of life must eat (his) flesh and drink (his) blood. In response, many of the Lord’s followers say, This is intolerable language, or, according to another translation, This is a hard saying. Hard, like a huge stone blocking our way. An irritating obstacle obstructing our path. And yet, what the Lord is offering is also a warning, a caution not to work for food that cannot last. Not to turn our appetites into idols. But to feed on and to worship instead the One True God. Like that dog on the forest path, the Lord’s teaching is an obstacle. And more than an obstacle, it’s also a call. A call to conversion.

But not just any kind of conversion. At least not the kind that may erupt on special occasions, like festive fireworks, exploding loudly and suddenly, colourfully and excitedly, only to fade away, without leaving any trace. Instead, what the Lord is asking of his followers is something more enduring and all-encompassing. Something like what Joshua is asking of the Israelites in the first reading, when he tells them to choose today whom you wish to serve. Again, more than just an obstacle, the Lord’s teaching is also a call. A call to make a lasting choice, a life-defining commitment. As for me and my House, we will serve the Lord.

And in case we may feel discouraged by how demanding this sounds, the scriptures remind us that the Lord’s apparently hard teaching actually has a tender core. The second reading invites us to ponder how lovingly Christ treats the Church. How he sacrificed himself for her to make her holy. And how, as a man feeds and looks after his own body, that is also the way Christ treats the Church, because it is his body––and we are its living parts. Unlike the idols we may be fooled into worshipping, Christ doesn’t oppress those who commit their lives to his service. Rather, he treats us as parts of his very self, mercifully showering upon us his tender loving care. Again, more than just an obstacle, the Lord’s teaching is also a call. A call to an ever more intimate communion.

An obstacle that’s more than just an obstacle, but also a call to conversion, to commitment and to communion. This is what we find in our scriptures today. And yet, it’s not always easy to see all of this at once. Especially if the obstacle we encounter is unexpected. Such as a sudden tragedy or medical emergency, a painful loss or disappointing setback. Very often, in such moments, our vision is clouded, if only for the moment. Like that man on the path, we can see the puzzling behaviour of the dog, but not yet the poisonous threat of the snake. What then are we to do?

In the gospel, we find people taking one of three courses of action. The first is desertion. We’re told that many of Jesus’ disciples left him and stopped going with him. The second is continued discipleship. Much as Peter doesn’t understand what’s going on, even though he will have to struggle to live up to his commitment, and even if he may fall short, he keeps clinging stubbornly to Jesus. Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life… The third option is much less obvious. The gospel alludes to it when it speaks of the one who would betray him. For the first two courses of action don’t quite lead to betrayal. Neither outright desertion nor struggling discipleship. No, betrayal requires a willingness to lead a double-life. A life of continual compromise. The ability to go through the motions of discipleship, while nurturing a deserter’s heart. Something that Pope Francis calls spiritual worldliness. To claim to live in the Church, while keeping and promoting the values of the world. And this requires a certain degree of secrecy. Which is perhaps why Jesus is so blunt in asking the Twelve: What about you, do you want to go away too? The Lord is offering them, and us, the precious opportunity to uncover what may be hidden, even from ourselves. To examine our hearts, and to bring our doubts and reservations to him, so that he may address them.

Sisters and brothers, through the obstacles we may meet along the path of life, how might the Lord be calling us today?

The Angel's Touch

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kings 19: 4-8; Psalm 33 (34): 2-9; Ephesians 4: 30-5:2; John 6: 41-51

Picture: By Jose Gasparian on Unsplash

My dear friends, what is it like be exhausted and hungry at the same time? To feel an urgent need to sleep and to eat? Of course, we can’t do both simultaneously. So which do we do first? I’m not sure, but aren’t we more likely to sleep first? After all, it’s possible to feel so tired that we can’t even stay awake long enough to finish a meal. And yet, once we fall asleep, isn’t it easy to forget to eat? Which is why we need someone to wake us up. Someone to remind us to nourish ourselves. Isn’t this what we find in each of our readings?

At the start of the first reading, Elijah is so exhausted that he prays for death, and then promptly falls asleep. But God doesn’t let the prophet die. For God has a new mission for him, which Elijah will have to travel all the way to Horeb, the mountain of God, to receive. And to help Elijah get there, God provides not only nourishing food to sustain him on the journey, but also the touch of an angel to rouse him from sleep. Get up and eat, or the journey will be too long for you. The touch of God’s messenger, rousing someone from sleep, so as to nourish him with food for the journey. Touch, sleep, and food. Seems like a simple enough story, except that the story also has a deeper meaning. One that becomes clearer when we consider that what God does for Elijah in the first reading actually mirrors what God had earlier sent the prophet to do for the people of Israel.

As we may recall, Ahab, the king of Israel at the time, had taken a pagan wife, Jezebel. After which, the king and all his subjects turned to worship Baal, the queen’s pagan god. And though they may not realise it, their idolatry leads the Israelites into deep spiritual exhaustion and starvation, symbolised by a terrible drought and famine that ravage the land. To save the people, God sends Elijah to call them back to true worship. So that not only does Elijah receive the touch of an angel, he himself is sent to be an angel for others. To awaken the people of Israel from their idolatry, and to remind them to nourish themselves by worshipping the one true God. To taste and see that the Lord is good. But queen Jezebel resists the prophet’s touch. Refusing to be awakened by God’s messenger, she actually seeks to kill him. Which is why Elijah is forced to flee for his life, becoming depressed and burnt out. The prophet’s afflictions in the first reading are the result of the sins of those he was sent to help.

So more than just a story about a lone prophet being rescued from physical tiredness, the first reading is also about how God seeks to save a whole people from false worship. For just as the sleep of idolatry leads to spiritual burnout and starvation, despair and death, the food of right worship brings true rest and sustenance, renewal of purpose and fullness of life. And the good news is that God never tires of sending messengers to touch those who fall asleep, to rouse them to wakefulness, and to remind them to eat. Isn’t this also what Jesus is doing in the gospel?

As we may recall from last Sunday’s reading, in the sixth chapter of John’s gospel, the Lord uncovers the subtle signs of the people’s idolatry. By seeking to make Jesus king, simply because he is able to provide them with free food (6:15), the people show that the god they worship is their own stomachs. Which is why Jesus tells them not to work for food that cannot last (6:27), but to feed instead on Jesus himself, the bread of life sent by God to nourish the world. And in today’s reading, we see that it’s not just the people who need to be awakened from idolatry, their religious leaders do too. By complaining to each other about Jesus, aren’t they showing signs of false worship? Not that there’s anything wrong with complaining in itself, provided it is done for a just cause. But their grumbling is born of jealousy and the need for control. It’s also a sign of their resistance to being roused from sleep. As queen Jezebel tried to do to Elijah, the religious leaders will soon seek to have Jesus killed.

And not only does Jesus himself touch others into wakefulness, he also sends disciples to do the same. Isn’t this what the author of the second reading seeks to do? More than just imposing burdensome obligations that individuals find hard to fulfil, the reading helps a community to recognise signs of its own exhaustion born of idolatry. Including the ways its members use words to tear others down, instead of building them up. And isn’t this what we too are called to do as Christians? Not just to feed ourselves at the Eucharistic table, but also to be sent out to touch others into wakefulness. Isn’t this a particularly urgent need today, living as we do in a society where so many feel burdened to the point of burnout? Like sheep without a shepherd (Mk 6:34)?

Sisters and brothers, what can we do both to better receive, as well as to become for others, the touch of an angel today?

Between Lock & Key

Solemnity of St Ignatius of Loyola

Readings: Jeremiah 20: 7-9; Ps 34 (33): 2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 10-11; 1 Corinthians 10: 31 – 11: 1; Luke 14: 25-33

Picture: By Amol Tyagi on Unsplash

My dear friends, what does a key look like? I’m not sure if you’ll agree, but isn’t the safest answer to this question, it depends? That’s because keys are made to open locks, and locks come in different forms. A hole in a door requires the turning of a metal rod. A touchpad, the swipe of a plastic card. A scanner, the imprint of a finger, or the flash of an eye. A keypad, the pushing of a series of symbols. And then there are also locks that are not physical but intellectual. Such as a code or a puzzle. Which is what we find in our scriptures today. Each of the readings contains something like a puzzle, requiring the right key, for access to deeper understanding.

In the first reading, the prophet Jeremiah is suffering terribly. His proclamation of God’s message has resulted in him being rejected and mocked, persecuted and thrown into prison. As he ponders his own sad plight, Jeremiah cannot help but complain to God for deceiving him. By promising to protect and care for him (eg, 1:8), God had enticed him to accept his prophetic mission. And yet, now that Jeremiah is in trouble, God seems to have forsaken him. Which brings us to the puzzle. To escape his sufferings, all the prophet has to do is renounce his message, forsake his mission. So why doesn’t he do that, especially now that he has already seen through God’s deception? Why does the prophet persist in his folly? Jeremiah himself provides the key to the puzzle. (W)ithin me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot. Like a raging flame that refuses to be quenched, God’s word sustains the prophet in his mission, even in the face of stiff opposition from others, and apparent abandonment by God. The prophet’s experience of God’s word is the key to the puzzle.

In the second reading too, we find something like a puzzle. On the one hand, St Paul claims to do everything for the glory of God. But, on the other hand, he also says that he tries to please everyone in everything he does. How to reconcile these two claims? For one thing, don’t we all know from experience, how exhausting, and even pointless and foolish, it is to try to please everybody? Not just in school and at work, but even back at home, and here in church? Also, as it was for Jeremiah, isn’t it true that God’s wishes often conflict with what many people want? So how can Paul both glorify God, and please everyone, at the same time? Again, the reading itself provides the key to the puzzle, specifically in the last two lines. First, Paul gives us a clearer idea of what he means, when he adds that he tries to please everyone, so that they may be saved. His aim is not to satisfy superficial cravings, but to help others attain salvation, the fullness of life. Which is what Jesus came among us to accomplish, and why the reading ends with Paul inviting his readers to (b)e imitators of me, as I am of Christ. Christ, who came among us both to glorify God, and to save everyone. Christ, the Word-of-God-Made-Flesh, he is the key to the puzzle.

And the same goes for the gospel. We all know that the Ten Commandments require us to honour our parents (Ex 20:12). And Jesus himself said he came not to abolish, but to fulfil the law and the prophets (Mt 5:17). So how can the Lord require his followers to hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters… and even life itself? Beyond trying to explain this apparent contradiction in theory, don’t we need to consider how the Lord himself lived it in practice? How, by his Life, Death and Resurrection, Jesus showed us what it looks like to love God in everyone, and everyone in God, even to the point of accepting death on a cross? And to appreciate what this might look like in our own lives, along with Jeremiah and Paul and Jesus himself, don’t we have to keep allowing the Word of God to burn ever more brightly in our own hearts? As we are invited to do every time we gather for the Eucharist? Again, Christ, the Word-of-God-Made-Flesh, is the key to the puzzle.

Christ is the key, not just to the readings, but to the lives of the prophet, the apostle, and all who seek to follow the Lord, including our patron, St Ignatius. For it is said that, despite opposition from various very important people, Ignatius insisted on naming his religious order not after himself, but after Jesus. Why, if not because Ignatius wanted not just his own personal life, but also the corporate life of the least society he cofounded to be shaped around the Word-of-God-Made-Flesh? He wanted Jesus to be the key to everything. Which shows us that it’s not just the case that keys need to be fitted to locks. Especially when the key is Jesus, locks too need to be continually shaped to better receive the Key. 

Sisters and brothers, as we joyously celebrate yet another parish feast-day, what must we do to keep allowing the Lord to shape our hearts and our lives, our families and our communities around none but him, today and everyday?

Wasting Time With Family Is Not Wasted Time

Feast of St James, Apostle

Day 9 of Novena to St Anne

Readings: 2 Corinthians 4: 7-15; Psalm 125 (126): 1-6; Matthew 20: 20-28

Picture: By Raj Rana on Unsplash

My dear friends, what’s the difference between occupying space and making space? Right now, each of us is occupying physical space, here in this church. But what does it feel like to make space?… As an example, if you don’t mind, perhaps we can do a very simple exercise together. When I say go, we’ll gently take a deep breath, hold it for two seconds, and then slowly breathe out. That’s it. Okay? Ready? Go… What just happened? By tightening some muscles around our ribs, we expanded our chest. We made space. As a result, air flowed through our nostrils and into our lungs, filling our blood with oxygen, and our bodies with life. In fact, if we were to stop breathing, we’d all die. Which shows us how important it is to make space. And to do it regularly. It’s nothing less than a matter of life and death.

This contrast between occupying and making space is also what we find in our scriptures today. What is the mother of James and John asking Jesus to do in the gospel? Promise that these two sons of mine may sit one at your right hand and the other at your left in your kingdom. Isn’t she doing a very Singaporean thing? She’s choping the best seats for her sons. I don’t know if tissue-paper was already invented back then. But if it was, we can imagine her handing two packets to Jesus as she made her request. And why are the other apostles so angry? Isn’t it because they are also eyeing those same positions? But we shouldn’t be too quick to point fingers or to laugh at them. Aren’t we often like them too?

And notice how the Lord responds. He tells the apostles that their attitude is similar to that of the pagans, whose rulers like to throw their weight around. But Jesus says we Christians must be different. Instead of choping seats, our concern should be serving people. Instead of occupying space for ourselves, we need to make space for others. For this is what Christ does for us. The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Through his Cross and Resurrection, Jesus makes space for us in God’s kingdom. And by asking us to imitate him, the Lord is not placing a heavy burden on our shoulders. By teaching us to make space for God, he’s helping us to enjoy the fullness of life. Like breathing, it’s a matter of life and death.

The first reading shows us what this can look like in practice. Although they face many hardships, St Paul and his friends do not despair. Why? We are only the earthenware jars that hold this treasure. They are able to remain hopeful, amid their many trials, because their focus is not on their own success or failure, but on the Lord. Their concern is not to occupy but to make space. That’s what jars do. They make space for the Lord, and for others. As a result, they are able to see their sufferings as a participation in the sacrifice of Christ. The same sacrifice we are celebrating here at Mass. The sacrifice that brings life to all. So death is at work in us, but life in you… Again, like breathing, it’s a matter of life and death.

Which brings us to the theme for this ninth and final day of our novena to St Anne. Why is wasting time with family not wasted time. Isn’t it because wasting time is a way of making space, not just for family, but also for God? Some of us may remember that, back in 2016, Pope Francis issued a document entitled Amoris Laetitia (AL), or The Joy of Love. And in this document, the Pope reminds us that God doesn’t just live in individual persons, but also in families. According to the Pope, (t)he Lord’s presence dwells in real and concrete families, with all their daily troubles and struggles, joys and hopes (AL 315). It’s very important, of course, that every Catholic family should try to make time to pray and celebrate the Eucharist together regularly (AL, 318). But, beyond that, the Pope tells us that God is present not only when the family prays, but also in the thousands of small but real gestures family members make to express their love for one another (AL, 315). It doesn’t have to be in front of an altar, or in a church. It can also happen at the dining table or in the living room, at a restaurant or in the family car. Wherever we serve or make space for one another, we are serving and making space for God. Married couples shape with different daily gestures a “God-enlightened space in which to experience the hidden presence of the risen Lord” (AL, 317).

And there are many different ways to do this, limited only by our own creativity and generosity, as well as the receptivity of the other. What’s important is that we be present to others, by paying attention to them. As the Pope tells us, (w)e can be fully present to others only by giving fully of ourselves and forgetting all else. Our loved ones merit our complete attention. Jesus is our model in this, for whenever people approached to speak with him, he would meet their gaze, directly and lovingly (cf. Mk 10:21) (AL, 323). But this is not easy for us, since we live in a time of continual distraction. Don’t many of us find it hard even to tear our eyes away from our phones long enough for us to cross a busy street?

Which is why we can’t really make space for one another in the family, unless each of us is also regularly making space in our own hearts for God. And when we do this, when we each make efforts to deepen our relationship with God, it brings our families many spiritual benefits. According to the Pope, (t)he space which each of the spouses makes exclusively for their personal relationship with God not only helps heal the hurts of life in common, but also enables the spouses to find in the love of God the deepest source of meaning in their own lives (AL, 320). For (i)f a family is centred on Christ, he will unify and illumine its entire life. Moments of pain and difficulty will be experienced in union with the Lord’s cross, and his closeness will make it possible to surmount them (AL, 317). In other words, like breathing, it’s a matter of life and death.

My dear friends, if you like, perhaps we can end our reflection this evening by repeating that exercise we did at the start. Except that, this time, when we breathe in, let’s humbly ask God to help us to truly make space for one another and for God. And when we exhale, let’s ask God to remove from us everything that might hinder our efforts. Okay? Ready? Go…

Sisters and brothers, through his Dying and Rising, Jesus has already made a life-giving space for us in God’s kingdom. What shall we do to make space for him, by wasting time with our families more regularly, in the days ahead?

The Benefits of Putting Up Our Feet

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Jeremiah 23: 1-6; Psalm 22 (23); Ephesians 2: 13-18; Mark 6: 30-34

Picture: By Philippe Murray-Pietsch on Unsplash

My dear friends, have you ever finally gotten a chance to sit down and put your feet up, after a long day of running around, and only then realised how exhausted you really are? The tiredness was actually already there before, but we appreciate it more only when we rest. Isn’t it interesting how we know something better by experiencing its opposite? But could the reverse be true too? Could we also know better what it means to rest, by considering its opposite? So what is the opposite of rest? What does it look and feel like?

This is a question that our beautiful responsorial psalm helps us to ponder today. Psalm 22(23) is, of course, very familiar to us. We often use it at funerals, to remind us that death is not an end, but a doorway to final rest in God. And yet, more than what we can expect after we die, the psalm speaks about what we can enjoy here and now, if only we allow the Lord to lead us on life’s journey. The psalm mentions three earthly experiences that are the opposite of rest. Instances where we need the Lord to care for us. The first is the drooping spirit. For the psalmist, the Lord is like a good shepherd, a caring leader, who ushers us to green pastures and restful waters to revive our drooping spirit. Refreshing us when we feel discouraged and depressed, when our motivation flags, and our morale is low. Sort of like how a brief power nap can rejuvenate us, when the burden or boredom of the day makes it difficult to keep our focus, to maintain our passion for life.

The second experience is the valley of darkness, where we find ourselves struggling to discern the right choices we need to make, the proper path we need to take. When various distractions or temptations may cloud our vision, confuse our inner compass, making it hard for us to see where we need to go… Should I leave this job… marry that person… adopt a child… listen to my friend… do more… do less…? In such morally exhausting moments, the Lord gives us rest, by providing safe and reliable guidance. You are there with your crook and your staff; with these you give me comfort. The third experience is when we find ourselves in the sight of our foes. Times when we may actually know quite well what the Lord wishes us to do, but feel intimidated by opposing voices or forces, and lack the courage to do what needs to be done. Then the Lord energises and sustains us, by preparing a banquet to feed us, and by anointing us with oil for strength. Helping us to stiffen our backbone, so that we are able to stand up bravely for God before the world.

Refreshment for the drooping spirit, guidance in the valley of darkness, and sustenance in the sight of our foes. These are among the ways the Lord cares continually for those who follow his lead. But it’s not just individual persons who need rest. Don’t families and communities, nations and societies do too? And like individuals, don’t groups of people also encounter situations that are the opposite of rest? Signs that the group needs to be cared for. Signs that the group’s leaders have the responsibility of noticing and addressing. Isn’t this why God criticises the political and religious authorities in the first reading? You have let my flock be scattered and go wandering and have not taken care of them. The scattering of the flock is a sign that it needs rest. Yet the leaders have neglected to do anything about it. They have failed to help their people find rest. Very likely, this is because the leaders themselves have not paid enough attention to their own need for rest. Unlike the psalmist, they have not allowed the Lord to shepherd them.

All of which helps us to better understand what Jesus is doing for the apostles and the crowds in the gospel, as well as what he does for us, especially when we gather for Mass. By calling the apostles to accompany him to a lonely place to rest for a while, by making the effort to teach the crowds at some length, and by feeding us at this Eucharistic table of Word and Sacrament, the Good Shepherd gathers and guides, sustains and refreshes his sheep. Helping us to find true rest in him, even as we continue on life’s arduous  journey. Teaching us how to look at ourselves and at others with that compassion, which the Lord offers particularly to all who are exhausted from having to bear life’s burdens. The same compassion that eventually leads Jesus to Calvary. Where, as the second reading reminds us, by allowing his blood to be shed, the Lord gathers the previously separated Jews and Gentiles into a single flock. Creating one single New Man in himself… by restoring peace through the cross.

Refreshment for the drooping spirit, guidance in the valley or darkness, sustenance in the sight of our foes, and peace for the scattered sheep. This is what Jesus offers us, if only we are willing to follow him. Sisters and brothers, how is the Lord calling us to put up our feet, and find our rest in him today?

Between Changing Faces & The Constant Heart

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Amos 7: 12-15; Psalm 84 (85): 9-14; Ephesians 1: 3-14; Mark 6: 7-13

Picture: By Joeyy Lee on Unsplash

My dear friends, how are we coping with work? Even if we are already retired or in-between jobs, a home-maker or still in school, isn’t this question still relevant to us, if not directly, then at least indirectly? All the more because the face of work is changing rapidly. For better or worse, some countries are moving towards a 4-day work week. Greece being a notable exception. Also, more jobs now offer the possibility of working off-site. And, what’s perhaps most significant of all, it’s becoming more and more difficult to stay in a chosen career. In the past, it was possible to devote one’s youth to training for a career, and then most of one’s adulthood to practising it, before spending the twilight years relaxing in retirement. But now, increasingly, many have to go through two or more cycles of training and practice, often in different fields, even as the retirement age gets raised ever higher. And it’s taken for granted that the growth of artificial intelligence will further accelerate this process. So how are we to cope? The obvious way is, of course, to continually push ourselves to learn new skills, to acquire fresh knowledge, to keep up with work’s rapidly changing face.

Our scriptures, however, offer us a different approach. They remind us that, more than just an external face, work also has a deeper heart… When Amaziah calls Amos a seer, or a prophet, in the first reading, he sees prophecy only as an occupation, as a means of earning (one’s) bread. Amaziah is talking about the face of work. But Amos quickly corrects the priest, by telling him that, for Amos, prophecy is not a mere career that he has chosen for himself, but a vocation, for which God has chosen, called and sent him. It was the Lord who took me from herding the flock, and the Lord who said, “Go, prophesy to my people Israel.” God’s call lies at the very heart of Amos’ prophetic work.

Similarly, when the Twelve apostles in the gospel set out to preach repentance, to cast out… devils, and to cure the sick, they do all this not as a mere occupation, but as a vocation. They do it, because Jesus has summoned and sent them, as well as giving them authority over the unclean spirits. Over all the evil influences that diminish human dignity, and occasion human suffering in this world. And it’s important for us to see that this prophetic work of preaching and healing, benefits not only those who receive it, but also those who perform it. Isn’t this what the second reading reminds us?

Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all the spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ… By choosing, calling and sending us in Christ, God has blessed us not just with one or two or even three, but with all the blessings of heaven. Not just training us for a career that’s here today, and may be gone tomorrow, but forming in us and for us an enduring identity: the priceless gift of being adopted sons (and daughters) of God. Not just freeing us from the burden of our sins, but also revealing to us the grand vision of God’s eternal plan for all of creation, as well as our cherished place in that plan. Whatever our chosen career or occupation or state of life, whatever we may happen to do to earn our living, we Christians share the dignity of a common vocation. We are chosen to be, for his greater glory, the people who… put their hopes in Christ… As it was for Amos and the Twelve, so too for us. God’s call lies at the heart of all we do.

But if this is true, if God’s call were truly to lie at the heart of everything we Christians do, then doesn’t it follow that there should be one specific type of training that we need most of all? One crucially important ability, in which we all need to be formed? The same ability that the psalmist is exercising in the opening verse of the psalm, when she says, I will hear what the Lord God has to say, a voice that speaks of peace, peace for his people… The ability to listen attentively, to recognise perceptively, and to respond generously to God’s voice, amid the many other different voices that call out to us every day. A tender, loving, and merciful voice that calms and consoles us, even as it may challenge us. Calling and sending us to share this same precious blessing with others, including our own beloved children and grandchildren. Helping them too, to allow God’s voice to remain ever at the heart of all they do.

And isn’t this a blessing and an ability that’s needed all the more now, when so many are being driven to burnout and mental distress, just trying to keep up with the ever-growing demands of daily living? For when one is forced to keep changing one’s face, isn’t it only to be expected that doing so might well place a heavy strain on one’s heart?

Sisters and brothers, even as we may have to keep up with the rapidly changing face of work, what must we do to help one another allow God’s voice to remain always at the heart of all we do, today and every day?