Break
Breaking the Word will be taking a break for the next couple of weeks. Blessings...
Friday, August 10, 2007
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Thursday in the 18th Week of Ordinary Time (I)
National Day of Singapore
Why?!
Readings: Numbers 20:1-13; Psalms 95:1-2, 6-7, 8-9; Matthew 16:13-23
My guess is that few of us will find it difficult to resonate with the question that the Israelites pose to Moses at Meribah. Why did you bring us out of Egypt, only to bring us to this wretched place? … There is not even water to drink! Why indeed! And the question becomes even more pointed when one considers who the Israelites are. They are not enemies upon whom the Lord might desire to wreak vengeance. Neither are they individuals of no consequence about whose welfare the Lord might be indifferent. No! Quite to the contrary. As they themselves rightly observe, they are the assembly of the Lord. They who were once no people, individuals scattered and oppressed, have now been liberated and gathered together, assembled, by God and promised a new and fuller life. Why then have they been led into this wilderness to suffer? Why… why… why…?!
This might well be the same question in the mind, if not on the lips, of Peter in today’s gospel. The place has changed: Meribah gives way to Caesarea Philippi. But isn’t the situation strikingly similar? Isn’t Peter being led by Jesus into a wilderness of sorts? Shortly after professing his faith in Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God, Peter finds himself having to wrap his mind around the news that Jesus is destined to go to Jerusalem and suffer grievously… Shortly after he sticks out his neck and commits himself to following Jesus, Peter finds himself being led by Jesus to an apparently wretched place. Why?! As with the Israelites, the question becomes even more pointed when we consider what Jesus says of Peter: you are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. The parallel with the situation in the first reading is quite striking, especially when we consider that ekklesia, the Greek word for church, means assembly.
Each in its own way, the two readings present us with situations in which God’s chosen ones find themselves being led to a place of trial. They suffer hardship precisely because they have allowed themselves to be assembled by God. Is it at all difficult for us to identify with these biblical situations? Do we not also have similar experiences of meeting difficulties precisely because we decide to follow the Lord, precisely as a result of trying to live out our identity as church, as members of the assembly of the Lord? And when this happens, do we not find ourselves spontaneously asking the same question? Why?!
It’s possible to come up with various answers to this terribly poignant question. It’s possible, for example, to say that God is helping to wean the people from the death-dealing waters of Egypt so as to help them acquire a taste for the life-giving waters of Meribah. And this may well be true. But what seems more important to note is that, in the first reading, God doesn’t offer a direct answer to the question. Neither does Jesus in the gospel. Instead, in the first reading, God simply responds by making water flow from the rock, so that the people might assuage their thirst. The early Fathers of the Church saw the rock at Meribah as a figure of Christ on the Cross. Just as water flowed from the rock when it was struck by Moses’ branch, so did blood and water flow from the side of Jesus when it was pierced by a centurion’s lance (see John 19:34).
When we do find our throats burning with thirst and our parched lips mouthing the question why?!, perhaps we might ponder the mystery of Meribah and Caesarea Philippi, and in the process, find ourselves acquiring a taste for the waters of life.
National Day of Singapore
Why?!
Readings: Numbers 20:1-13; Psalms 95:1-2, 6-7, 8-9; Matthew 16:13-23
My guess is that few of us will find it difficult to resonate with the question that the Israelites pose to Moses at Meribah. Why did you bring us out of Egypt, only to bring us to this wretched place? … There is not even water to drink! Why indeed! And the question becomes even more pointed when one considers who the Israelites are. They are not enemies upon whom the Lord might desire to wreak vengeance. Neither are they individuals of no consequence about whose welfare the Lord might be indifferent. No! Quite to the contrary. As they themselves rightly observe, they are the assembly of the Lord. They who were once no people, individuals scattered and oppressed, have now been liberated and gathered together, assembled, by God and promised a new and fuller life. Why then have they been led into this wilderness to suffer? Why… why… why…?!
This might well be the same question in the mind, if not on the lips, of Peter in today’s gospel. The place has changed: Meribah gives way to Caesarea Philippi. But isn’t the situation strikingly similar? Isn’t Peter being led by Jesus into a wilderness of sorts? Shortly after professing his faith in Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God, Peter finds himself having to wrap his mind around the news that Jesus is destined to go to Jerusalem and suffer grievously… Shortly after he sticks out his neck and commits himself to following Jesus, Peter finds himself being led by Jesus to an apparently wretched place. Why?! As with the Israelites, the question becomes even more pointed when we consider what Jesus says of Peter: you are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. The parallel with the situation in the first reading is quite striking, especially when we consider that ekklesia, the Greek word for church, means assembly.
Each in its own way, the two readings present us with situations in which God’s chosen ones find themselves being led to a place of trial. They suffer hardship precisely because they have allowed themselves to be assembled by God. Is it at all difficult for us to identify with these biblical situations? Do we not also have similar experiences of meeting difficulties precisely because we decide to follow the Lord, precisely as a result of trying to live out our identity as church, as members of the assembly of the Lord? And when this happens, do we not find ourselves spontaneously asking the same question? Why?!
It’s possible to come up with various answers to this terribly poignant question. It’s possible, for example, to say that God is helping to wean the people from the death-dealing waters of Egypt so as to help them acquire a taste for the life-giving waters of Meribah. And this may well be true. But what seems more important to note is that, in the first reading, God doesn’t offer a direct answer to the question. Neither does Jesus in the gospel. Instead, in the first reading, God simply responds by making water flow from the rock, so that the people might assuage their thirst. The early Fathers of the Church saw the rock at Meribah as a figure of Christ on the Cross. Just as water flowed from the rock when it was struck by Moses’ branch, so did blood and water flow from the side of Jesus when it was pierced by a centurion’s lance (see John 19:34).
When we do find our throats burning with thirst and our parched lips mouthing the question why?!, perhaps we might ponder the mystery of Meribah and Caesarea Philippi, and in the process, find ourselves acquiring a taste for the waters of life.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Wednesday in the 18th Week of Ordinary Time (I)
Memorial of St. Dominic, Priest
Battling the Combatants & Sparing the Civilians
Readings: Numbers 13:1-2, 25–14:1, 26a-29a, 34-35; Psalms 106:6-7ab, 13-14, 21-22, 23; Matthew 15: 21-28
This past Sunday we had occasion to reflect upon what might be the proper Christian attitude toward heaven and earth, the religious and the secular. By using the metaphor of the kitesurfer we suggested then that there is a need for balance. As Christians who have already been called out of darkness into God’s own wonderful light (1 Peter 2:9), but who still continue to live in this passing world, our calling necessitates that we set our minds on the things of heaven even as we remain fully engaged in the affairs of earth. In this way, we cooperate in God’s efforts at hastening the coming of heaven upon earth.
Today’s readings invite us to deepen our meditation on the same theme. The metaphors used are those of warfare. In the first reading the Israelites find themselves being urged by God to enter and to take possession of the Promised Land. They respond in various ways, two of which are found in the first reading. There is the fear and apprehension of the majority of the scouts. Cowed by the ferocious strength of the Canaanites, they discourage the people from heeding God’s call. In contrast, there is the courageous enthusiasm of Caleb, who even though he has seen the same things as his companions, remains eager to engage the Canaanites in battle, to do God’s bidding. Avoidance and engagement: these are the options laid before the people today.
But other responses are possible too. For we know, of course, that there is something more at stake here than a piece of land. As Pope Benedict XVI tells us in his latest book: As time went by, it became increasingly clear that the promise of the land meant this: The land was given as a space for obedience, a realm of openness to God, that was to be freed from the abominations of idolatry. That is what the Israelites are being called to do in the first reading: to enter the land and to engage in battle so as to win it over to God. But as the story unfolds, we will see that even when the Israelites do finally enter and possess the land, many will be seduced by the idolatry they find there. In either case, whether it is through avoidance born of fear, or idolatry born of seduction, God’s purpose is thwarted all the same.
And there is at least one more danger, especially highlighted for us in the gospel today. We know well, for example, how important it is for soldiers caught in the heat of battle to carefully distinguish the civilians from the combatants. Aren't the Israelites challenged to do the same? Even as they enter and do battle to win over the land for God, don’t they need to refrain from too quickly dismissing all the inhabitants of the land as evil? Isn’t this what Jesus teaches us through his interactions with the Canaanite woman today? Can we not but marvel at the flexibility and openness with which he allows this female foreigner to shatter prevailing stereotypes? Contrary to popular belief, even in a Canaanite, and a Canaanite woman at that, one can find great faith.
As we ponder upon the situation of the Israelites at the edge of the Promised Land, are we not drawn to consider the challenge we ourselves face as God’s chosen people? Today, are we not also being called to enter and take possession of the land, to do battle and to win it over to God? Are we not challenged to not let fear or seduction or stereotypical thinking hinder us in our task?
How might we courageously battle the combatants while sparing the civilians today?
Memorial of St. Dominic, Priest
Battling the Combatants & Sparing the Civilians
Readings: Numbers 13:1-2, 25–14:1, 26a-29a, 34-35; Psalms 106:6-7ab, 13-14, 21-22, 23; Matthew 15: 21-28
This past Sunday we had occasion to reflect upon what might be the proper Christian attitude toward heaven and earth, the religious and the secular. By using the metaphor of the kitesurfer we suggested then that there is a need for balance. As Christians who have already been called out of darkness into God’s own wonderful light (1 Peter 2:9), but who still continue to live in this passing world, our calling necessitates that we set our minds on the things of heaven even as we remain fully engaged in the affairs of earth. In this way, we cooperate in God’s efforts at hastening the coming of heaven upon earth.
Today’s readings invite us to deepen our meditation on the same theme. The metaphors used are those of warfare. In the first reading the Israelites find themselves being urged by God to enter and to take possession of the Promised Land. They respond in various ways, two of which are found in the first reading. There is the fear and apprehension of the majority of the scouts. Cowed by the ferocious strength of the Canaanites, they discourage the people from heeding God’s call. In contrast, there is the courageous enthusiasm of Caleb, who even though he has seen the same things as his companions, remains eager to engage the Canaanites in battle, to do God’s bidding. Avoidance and engagement: these are the options laid before the people today.
But other responses are possible too. For we know, of course, that there is something more at stake here than a piece of land. As Pope Benedict XVI tells us in his latest book: As time went by, it became increasingly clear that the promise of the land meant this: The land was given as a space for obedience, a realm of openness to God, that was to be freed from the abominations of idolatry. That is what the Israelites are being called to do in the first reading: to enter the land and to engage in battle so as to win it over to God. But as the story unfolds, we will see that even when the Israelites do finally enter and possess the land, many will be seduced by the idolatry they find there. In either case, whether it is through avoidance born of fear, or idolatry born of seduction, God’s purpose is thwarted all the same.
And there is at least one more danger, especially highlighted for us in the gospel today. We know well, for example, how important it is for soldiers caught in the heat of battle to carefully distinguish the civilians from the combatants. Aren't the Israelites challenged to do the same? Even as they enter and do battle to win over the land for God, don’t they need to refrain from too quickly dismissing all the inhabitants of the land as evil? Isn’t this what Jesus teaches us through his interactions with the Canaanite woman today? Can we not but marvel at the flexibility and openness with which he allows this female foreigner to shatter prevailing stereotypes? Contrary to popular belief, even in a Canaanite, and a Canaanite woman at that, one can find great faith.
As we ponder upon the situation of the Israelites at the edge of the Promised Land, are we not drawn to consider the challenge we ourselves face as God’s chosen people? Today, are we not also being called to enter and take possession of the land, to do battle and to win it over to God? Are we not challenged to not let fear or seduction or stereotypical thinking hinder us in our task?
How might we courageously battle the combatants while sparing the civilians today?
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Tuesday in the 18th Week of Ordinary Time (I)
The Buoyancy in Humility
Readings: Numbers 12:1-13; Psalms 51:3-4, 5-6ab, 6cd-7, 12-13; Matthew 14:22-36
It’s probably true that none of us in our right minds would have tried to do what Peter attempts in the gospel today. Yet isn’t it also true that we can quite easily identify with his desire? Although we may not be drawn literally to walk on water, don’t we wish we could, at least occasionally, rise above the heavy sea of our daily struggles? Don’t we sometimes find ourselves sinking in the midst of life’s difficulties, even as we wish someone like Jesus could swiftly come to our rescue, skimming gracefully across the waters’ surface and pulling us to safety? And don’t these dangerous waters make their appearance in many different forms?
Consider for example the story in the first reading. Although it’s set on land – in the Tent of Meeting to be exact – and not on water, isn’t it clear that Miriam and Aaron are both sinking in some way? Don’t they speak out against Moses not so much because he has done something inappropriate, but because they are jealous of him, envious of the high regard that the people have for him? Has the Lord spoken to Moses only? Has he not spoken to us too? Even though they may not literally be soaked, aren’t Miriam and Aaron both sinking into the depths of their own jealousy and envy? In contrast, isn’t Moses the one who skims the waters’ surface? Doesn’t he demonstrate his ability to rise above the justifiable anger and sense of betrayal he might feel so as to plead with God to show mercy on the very ones who stabbed him in the back?
What is it, then, that might keep us skimming instead of sinking? How do we avoid being engulfed by the heavy seas of life? In seeking an answer to this question, it’s helpful to remember that, by nature, the human body tends to float rather than sink. Why else do mobsters like the Sopranos on TV have to attach weights to their murdered victims before dumping them into the river? We only begin to sink when we try too hard, when we struggle to stay afloat on our own strength, when we forget to relax. Isn’t this what happens to Peter? He begins to sink only when he takes fright, when he forgets to relax and to trust in the One who beckons him.
In contrast, first Moses and then, to a far greater degree, Jesus, are able not just to float, but even to skim the water’s surface, because they have learnt to place their lives in the hands of Someone else. The intimacy with God that they so carefully nourish by regularly spending time in prayer is manifested in how they allow God to be the centre of their lives and actions. Isn’t this what makes them so buoyant? Isn’t this what allows them to rise to the occasion time and time again? Their ability to float, and even to walk on the waters of life, springs from the virtue that is mentioned at the beginning of today’s first reading. In a word, they are humble. They know and live the truth. They know and live from their Source and towards their Goal.
How might we experience the buoyancy in humility today?
The Buoyancy in Humility
Readings: Numbers 12:1-13; Psalms 51:3-4, 5-6ab, 6cd-7, 12-13; Matthew 14:22-36
It’s probably true that none of us in our right minds would have tried to do what Peter attempts in the gospel today. Yet isn’t it also true that we can quite easily identify with his desire? Although we may not be drawn literally to walk on water, don’t we wish we could, at least occasionally, rise above the heavy sea of our daily struggles? Don’t we sometimes find ourselves sinking in the midst of life’s difficulties, even as we wish someone like Jesus could swiftly come to our rescue, skimming gracefully across the waters’ surface and pulling us to safety? And don’t these dangerous waters make their appearance in many different forms?
Consider for example the story in the first reading. Although it’s set on land – in the Tent of Meeting to be exact – and not on water, isn’t it clear that Miriam and Aaron are both sinking in some way? Don’t they speak out against Moses not so much because he has done something inappropriate, but because they are jealous of him, envious of the high regard that the people have for him? Has the Lord spoken to Moses only? Has he not spoken to us too? Even though they may not literally be soaked, aren’t Miriam and Aaron both sinking into the depths of their own jealousy and envy? In contrast, isn’t Moses the one who skims the waters’ surface? Doesn’t he demonstrate his ability to rise above the justifiable anger and sense of betrayal he might feel so as to plead with God to show mercy on the very ones who stabbed him in the back?
What is it, then, that might keep us skimming instead of sinking? How do we avoid being engulfed by the heavy seas of life? In seeking an answer to this question, it’s helpful to remember that, by nature, the human body tends to float rather than sink. Why else do mobsters like the Sopranos on TV have to attach weights to their murdered victims before dumping them into the river? We only begin to sink when we try too hard, when we struggle to stay afloat on our own strength, when we forget to relax. Isn’t this what happens to Peter? He begins to sink only when he takes fright, when he forgets to relax and to trust in the One who beckons him.
In contrast, first Moses and then, to a far greater degree, Jesus, are able not just to float, but even to skim the water’s surface, because they have learnt to place their lives in the hands of Someone else. The intimacy with God that they so carefully nourish by regularly spending time in prayer is manifested in how they allow God to be the centre of their lives and actions. Isn’t this what makes them so buoyant? Isn’t this what allows them to rise to the occasion time and time again? Their ability to float, and even to walk on the waters of life, springs from the virtue that is mentioned at the beginning of today’s first reading. In a word, they are humble. They know and live the truth. They know and live from their Source and towards their Goal.
How might we experience the buoyancy in humility today?
Monday, August 06, 2007
Feast of the Transfiguration (C)
Behind the Distressing Disguise
Readings: Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; Psalms 97:1-2, 5-6, 9; 2 Peter 1:16-19; Luke 9:28b-36
Some of us will probably have experienced how easy it is to scare little children, even when one doesn’t really intend to. I remember, for example, some occasions when an adult might make a funny face or put on a strange-looking mask with the intention of amusing a child. But instead of lighting up with laughter, the child’s face unexpectedly crumples up into a grimace of fear, and tears might even start streaming down. What can the poor adult do but stop making that funny-face, or take off the strange-looking mask and allow the child to see the comfortingly familiar face behind it; to reassure the child that there’s really nothing to fear.
We celebrate something similar today in this feast of the Transfiguration. Perhaps the most striking aspect of the readings is that of light and glory. The prophet Daniel speaks of the blaze of flames that surround the throne of the one of great age. And the gospel describes how the aspect of Jesus’ face was changed and his clothing became brilliant as lightning. If we were to imagine what the throne-room of the first reading and the mountain of the gospel look like, can we not but be dazzled by the brightness that engulfs them both? And yet, to focus only on the light is also to miss the significance of our feast. For there is a reason why this glorious divine radiance is made manifest, a reason that only becomes apparent when we examine more closely its timing.
The prophet Daniel is blessed with his consoling vision at a time when he and his people are living the life of exiles in a foreign land. The disciples Peter and James and John are led up Mount Tabor at crucial turning point in their walk with Jesus. Prior to this they have witnessed the words of wisdom spoken and the miracles of power worked by their Lord. They have enjoyed his popularity. But now Jesus is turning towards Jerusalem and Calvary. Soon Jesus, the glorious Messiah, the only Son of God, will don the distressing disguise of a suffering servant. His body will be beaten and broken and buried, but only to rise again on the third day. As it is with Daniel and his people, a cloud will soon come upon the disciples and their lives will be covered with shadow. Like the confused child, their hearts will know fear, and they will be tempted to fall away, to stop following their Lord.
It is at this crucial moment that they are privileged with a peek behind God’s distressing disguise. It is at this point on their journey that they receive the assurance that the cloud of shadow that engulfs them is actually suffused with the powerful presence of God. It is here on the mountaintop that they are reminded of the true identity of this One whom they are following: This is my Son, the Chosen One. Listen to him. This then is the deeper significance of the Transfiguration. The time of light is meant to provide courage to face the darkness. As Peter tells us in the second reading: you will be right to depend on prophecy and take it as a lamp for lighting a way through the dark until the dawn comes…
What is the dark cloud that might be engulfing us today? Where is our Mount Tabor? How is the Lord strengthening us by allowing us a peek behind his distressing disguise?
Behind the Distressing Disguise
Readings: Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; Psalms 97:1-2, 5-6, 9; 2 Peter 1:16-19; Luke 9:28b-36
Some of us will probably have experienced how easy it is to scare little children, even when one doesn’t really intend to. I remember, for example, some occasions when an adult might make a funny face or put on a strange-looking mask with the intention of amusing a child. But instead of lighting up with laughter, the child’s face unexpectedly crumples up into a grimace of fear, and tears might even start streaming down. What can the poor adult do but stop making that funny-face, or take off the strange-looking mask and allow the child to see the comfortingly familiar face behind it; to reassure the child that there’s really nothing to fear.
We celebrate something similar today in this feast of the Transfiguration. Perhaps the most striking aspect of the readings is that of light and glory. The prophet Daniel speaks of the blaze of flames that surround the throne of the one of great age. And the gospel describes how the aspect of Jesus’ face was changed and his clothing became brilliant as lightning. If we were to imagine what the throne-room of the first reading and the mountain of the gospel look like, can we not but be dazzled by the brightness that engulfs them both? And yet, to focus only on the light is also to miss the significance of our feast. For there is a reason why this glorious divine radiance is made manifest, a reason that only becomes apparent when we examine more closely its timing.
The prophet Daniel is blessed with his consoling vision at a time when he and his people are living the life of exiles in a foreign land. The disciples Peter and James and John are led up Mount Tabor at crucial turning point in their walk with Jesus. Prior to this they have witnessed the words of wisdom spoken and the miracles of power worked by their Lord. They have enjoyed his popularity. But now Jesus is turning towards Jerusalem and Calvary. Soon Jesus, the glorious Messiah, the only Son of God, will don the distressing disguise of a suffering servant. His body will be beaten and broken and buried, but only to rise again on the third day. As it is with Daniel and his people, a cloud will soon come upon the disciples and their lives will be covered with shadow. Like the confused child, their hearts will know fear, and they will be tempted to fall away, to stop following their Lord.
It is at this crucial moment that they are privileged with a peek behind God’s distressing disguise. It is at this point on their journey that they receive the assurance that the cloud of shadow that engulfs them is actually suffused with the powerful presence of God. It is here on the mountaintop that they are reminded of the true identity of this One whom they are following: This is my Son, the Chosen One. Listen to him. This then is the deeper significance of the Transfiguration. The time of light is meant to provide courage to face the darkness. As Peter tells us in the second reading: you will be right to depend on prophecy and take it as a lamp for lighting a way through the dark until the dawn comes…
What is the dark cloud that might be engulfing us today? Where is our Mount Tabor? How is the Lord strengthening us by allowing us a peek behind his distressing disguise?
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