18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)
Kitesurfing

Readings: Ecclesiastes 1:2; 2:21-23; Psalm 90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14, 17; Colossians 3:1-5, 9-11; Luke 12:13-21

Sisters and brothers, I recently found myself jogging along the beach at East Coast Park, when I came upon a fascinating sight, something I’d never seen before, at least not close-up. Just a short distance from the shore, a man was kitesurfing – or I believe another name for it is kiteboarding. His feet were fastened to a small surfboard or wakeboard with which he used to skim across the surface of the water. And in his hands he held a bar connected by several lines to a large kite or sail, which caught the wind and propelled him along. The breeze was strong and the man was obviously quite skillful. It was a joy simply to watch him glide gracefully across the surface of the water at a good speed.

As I watched him, I couldn’t help but marvel at the skill that was needed to do what he was doing. His body was the only thing connecting the kite to the surfboard. Not only did he have to pay attention to the conditions on the water and to keep an eye on where he was going, but he also had to be sensitive to what was going on in the air. He had to be alert and responsive to the subtle changes in both wind and water currents so that he could translate the power of the wind into a force for motion. He had to know when to flex and when to relax the different muscles of his body in ways that enabled him to get to where he wanted to go. If, for some reason, he were to let go of the bar, or fail to catch the wind, not only would he stop moving, he might even begin to sink. And if, on the other hand, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going, he could crash into something or someone, or be carried out to sea. Quite clearly, to be able to kitesurf well, the man had somehow to remain in close touch with both wind and water.

Isn’t this a good image of the skill that is needed to live a good Christian life? As Christians, not only must we pay careful attention to what goes on in the often tumultuous waters of earthly living, we are also called to do what we heard in the second reading today. We must look for the things in heaven, where Christ is. We must let our thoughts be on heavenly things. Just as a good kitesurfer must be sensitive to both wind and water, a Christian is called to remain in close touch with both earth and heaven.

This is quite a challenge. It’s not easy to maintain the balance. There are constant temptations to focus too much on the things that are happening either on the water or in the air, either on the things of earth or on the things of heaven. In the midst of the constant stresses and strains of life, for example, don’t we sometimes wish we could fly off to some faraway land, to escape from it all? Some actually find such escapes in alcohol or drugs or the internet. Others may even resort to religion. They may, for example, spend plenty of time in church, but only in order to avoid having to see and deal with difficult members of the family. Then there are those who find themselves drawn to the ultimate escape. Perhaps they take too much to heart the words of the first reading today. The disappointments of life have led them to see the vanity, the illusory nature, of our endless strivings. Why not be gone forever? Why not succumb to despair and lose oneself in the jaws of death?

If these people think too much of death, there are those, on the other hand, who tend to forget all about it. Often these will be people who have done well for themselves, people who are apparently very skillful at navigating the waters of life. But their earthly skills and successes tend to blind them to the things of heaven. Like a kitesurfer who loses hold of his kite, they fail to get to where they need to go and may even find themselves sinking in life’s treacherous waters.

Isn’t this what Jesus is warning us about in the gospel today, when he tells us to be on your guard against avarice of any kind, for a man’s life is not made secure by what he owns, even when he has more than he needs? Isn’t Jesus telling us not to be too embroiled in the things of this earth in such a way that we lose sight of our final heavenly destination?

And isn’t this a warning that we need very much to hear, especially in these days? Consider the report in today’s Straits Times telling of how the buoyant property market is resulting in more people bringing members of their own family to court over property disputes. A father is suing his daughter and her siblings, a mother is suing her son, another mother her daughter and son-in-law, and someone else his cousin. Aren’t these clear signs that something is amiss? Isn’t it obvious that there are those among us who are drowning in the avarice that Jesus is warning us against today? In the midst of an economic boom, aren’t some of us forgetting the vanity, the illusory nature, of material possessions? Aren’t we forgetting that, rich or poor, there will come a day when we all have to die? And what will become of our million- and billion-dollar properties then? Isn’t what we heard in the first reading all too true? Don’t we all have to leave what is our own to someone who has not toiled for it at all?

Sisters and brothers, to live a good Christian life, we must learn to avoid both pitfalls. We must learn to resist the twin temptations of avarice and escape. We must somehow acquire the skill of the kitesurfer. We must somehow learn to simultaneously be fully engaged in all the intricate details of our earthly life while continually focusing our thoughts on heavenly things. Granted, this is not easy to do. But doesn’t our second reading point us the way forward when it encourages us to look to Christ?

For just as the body of the kitesurfer is the only thing connecting wind and water, so too is the mystery of the Body of Christ our privileged connection between earth and heaven. We learn to kitesurf only to the extent that we look to Christ and follow his example. Isn’t this what we are doing here at this Eucharist this evening? We are here as the Body of Christ contemplating and celebrating Christ’s presence among us in Word and Sacrament, in people and presider. We are here to acquire the skills of Christ our consummate kitesurfer.

Sisters and brothers, shall we all go kitesurfing today?

Friday in the 17th Week of Ordinary Time (I)
Pay Attention

Readings: Leviticus 23:1, 4-11, 15-16, 27, 34b-37; Psalm 81:3-4, 5-6, 10-11ab; Matthew 13:54-58

It’s not difficult to identify with the people’s surprise and puzzlement in today’s gospel. I’m reminded of the feeling a student might have when a classmate does especially well in a test or an examination. Everyone goes for the same classes, reads the same textbooks, listens to the same teachers. How did this person do so much better? Did s/he have extra help, extra tuition perhaps? Or maybe s/he’s just much smarter than the rest of us. Maybe s/he’s a genius. Otherwise, where did this person get this?

Perhaps the people in the gospel were thinking along similar lines. Isn’t Jesus one of us? Aren’t we familiar with his background? Didn’t he grow up among us? Didn’t he go to the same synagogue, listen to the same scriptures, hear the same preaching from the same rabbi? Didn’t he celebrate the same ceremonies and rituals as we did (the same rituals that Moses speaks about in the first reading today)? Where did the man get this?

Of course, we might say that Jesus is special. He is the Son of God, the Word made flesh and splendour of the Father. Even so, isn’t it likely that the power Jesus demonstrates in today’s gospel is not simply something that he was born with? Or, even if it was, that there was still a need for him to allow it to develop and to grow? Aren’t we told in Luke’s gospel, for example, that Jesus increased in wisdom (Luke 2:52)? If so, then we might continue to ask ourselves: Where did Jesus get all this…? Even if we acknowledge that Jesus was inspired by the Holy Spirit in a very special way, might we not continue to ask how and by what means did that inspiration take place?

Following this line of questioning, we find ourselves faced with an almost irresistible conclusion. If Jesus was indeed so familiar to his fellow townsfolk, if he was indeed exposed to the same scriptures and rituals and religious practices, isn’t it very likely that it was precisely through these very practices that Jesus obtained the wisdom and power that he manifests in the gospel today? But, if so, why does he seem so special?

Could the answer to this question be similar to the one that might be given to the student wondering about the classmate who seems special? Could it be that this classmate does well not so much because of extra tuition, or a higher IQ, although these may well be possible reasons, but simply because s/he is able truly to pay attention to what’s going on in class? Could it be that Jesus was special because he truly listened to the scriptures, actively participated in the rituals, carefully pondered over the close connection between them and daily human living? In his attendance at all the religious rituals that everyone else attended, the rituals that Moses prescribes in the first reading, could Jesus have been practicing what the Vatican II document on the Liturgy refers to as full, conscious and active participation? Could this have made all the difference for him, as well as for those to whom he ministers?

If so, isn’t this an invitation to us who may often find ourselves in need of wisdom and power to face life’s many struggles? Aren’t we also being called to strive for full, conscious and active participation in the Liturgy? In the words of Luke’s gospel, aren’t we being reminded to pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away… (Luke 8:18)?

Useful Reminders

Here are some useful reminders from past issues of America magazine (the website is having an open house in the months of July and August. Content is accessible free of charge after online registration):

Good Liturgy: The Assembly

Presiding at the Liturgy of the Word

Presiding at the Liturgy of the Eucharist

The Ministry of the Lector

The Parish Liturgy Committee

Celebrating 'Good Liturgy'

Thursday in the 17th Week of Ordinary Time (I)
From the Dragnet to the Dwelling Place

Readings: Exodus 40:16-21, 34-38; Psalm 84:3, 4, 5-6a and 8a, 11; Matthew 13:47-53

As we continue our meditation on the coming of God’s kingdom, our readings today offer us two further metaphors for our consideration. The first is found in the gospel. Here, the kingdom is likened to a dragnet that gathers in a haul of all kinds. The second is to be found in the first reading and the psalm. Here we are invited to consider: How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, God of hosts.

It is perhaps useful to acknowledge and to reflect more deeply upon the inherent tension between these two metaphors. If the dragnet highlights the apparently indiscriminate inclusiveness of the kingdom, at least in the initial stages of its advent, the dwelling place underscores its inherent selectivity. The dragnet hauls in everything. But not everyone is fit to enter into the dwelling place of God. And we will only finally discover who is fit and who is not at the end of time, when the great separation is carried out. At this point in the history of salvation, it may seem like it doesn’t take very much to be included among the contents of the dragnet. We may, for example, already be baptized and may even go faithfully to Mass every Sunday. But where will we be on the Last Day? And where are we now? Are we content merely to remain in the dragnet? Or are we truly seeking entrance into God’s dwelling place? And, if so, what can we do?

Perhaps the first is to ponder upon the awesome mystery that our readings remind us of today. In the first reading, God actually comes and pitches God’s tent among the people. God makes God’s dwelling place among them. For us who are Christian, this takes place especially through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, the Word who became flesh and made his dwelling among us (see John 1:14). This is a cause of great joy and consolation for us. For now, in Christ, we all have access to God’s dwelling place. Now, because the Word pitched his tent among us, we believe in faith that it is possible to encounter God in every time and place and circumstance. Because Christ passed from death into the new life, even our own experiences of suffering and death can become doorways into the dwelling place of God. But having access doesn’t necessarily mean that we will be fit to enter. For that something more is needed. We find a hint of what this might be in the experience of the Israelites in the first reading.

At every stage of their journey, we are told, whenever the cloud rose… they would resume their march. If the cloud did not rise, they waited… At every stage of their journey through the wilderness, the Israelites let God determine for them whether they marched or waited. At every stage of their journey, they made the Tent of Meeting, God’s dwelling place, the central focus of their attention. Are we not invited somehow to do the same? Are we not called to seek and find the presence of Christ in every situation and circumstance of our lives? Is this not the way in which we can move from the dragnet into the dwelling place of God?

How might we be helped to do so today?

Wednesday in the 17th Week of Ordinary Time (I)
Memorial of St. Alphonsus Liguori, Bishop and Doctor of the Church
What It Feels Like

Readings: Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99:5, 6, 7, 9; Matthew 13:44-46

If on Monday we were led to consider what the coming of God’s kingdom looks like, today we are invited to reflect upon what it might feel like. Perhaps we often have the sense that religion has much to do with sacrifice. And the Ten Commandments that we heard some days ago might even have confirmed us in this view: thou shall not this and thou shall not that… What then might the coming of God’s kingdom feel like if not sacrifice?

Of course, sacrifice does have a large part to play. We notice, for example, how in the first reading, the glow on Moses’ face causes him considerable inconvenience. People avoid him. He even has to put on a veil to cover his face. And the two people in today’s gospel make a considerable sacrifice in selling everything they own. But the accent in today’s readings is not on the feeling of having to make an unwelcome sacrifice. Despite being inconvenienced, Moses continues to enter the tent of meeting. And although the people in the parables sell everything they do it very eagerly and joyfully.

I’m reminded of a story I heard recently about the university undergraduate who was rather lazy. He was often too busy to help when his mother needed him to run an errand at the neighbourhood grocery store or when his younger brother needed some help with his homework. Then he met a new girlfriend. And suddenly, even though the girl lived on the other side of the island, he’d think nothing of visiting her everyday just to run errands for her mom and to tutor her brother. The difference falling in love makes…

Isn’t this what the coming of the kingdom feels like? Not so much the obligation to make sacrifices as the love that motivates it. And haven’t we more than ample reason to fall in love? After all, it is God who has first loved us in sending us Jesus to be the atoning sacrifice that takes away our sins (see 1John 4:10).

In the oft-quoted words of the late Fr. Pedro Arrupe, SJ (27th Superior General of the Society of Jesus):

Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in a love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.