Monday in the 6th Week of Ordinary Time (II)
Choosing The Right Boat

Readings: James 1:1-11; Psalm 119:67, 68, 71, 72, 75, 76; Mark 8:11-13
Picture: CC noprayer4dying

After the fifty days of the Easter season, we recommence Ordinary Time today by beginning the letter of James and by resuming our earlier reading of Mark’s gospel, which had been interrupted by the start of Lent. And, quite coincidentally, a day after our celebration of Pentecost, our readings today invite us to meditate upon what is required of us if we wish to receive the Spirit’s gift of wisdom. At first glance, it may seem difficult to reconcile two aspects in the first reading’s description of the process by which the gift of wisdom is offered and received. On the one hand, God is described as one who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly. And yet, on the other hand, this same God seems to set conditions on the recipients of God’s gift. Only the one who asks in faith gets what is desired. The doubter receives nothing. If God is really so generous, why the apparent bias against the doubter? And what has faith to do with wisdom?

Two aspects need to be considered in pondering this apparent contradiction. The first is the nature of the gift. And the second is the process of reception. We live in an information age and take for granted our own amazing ability to manipulate electronic data. Using a wide array of different technologies, we can now upload, download, store, transmit and reconfigure information in many different ways. So it is quite understandable if, consciously or not, we tend to think of the gift of wisdom in terms of bits and bytes. But wisdom is not to be equated with information. While the latter may yield to manipulation, the former requires humble submission. To invoke another image, while information might be likened to the cargo that one wishes to transport, wisdom is more like the ship that transports it. The first is stationery until moved, but the second tends to move in a very specific direction.

If this is the case, then in order to receive the gift of wisdom, one must be willing to jump aboard ship. One must be willing to change one’s course to match the direction in which the ship is moving. And if one has already boarded another ship moving in a different direction, one must choose between the two. This, of course, is where the doubter runs into difficulties. Such a person is unwilling to choose. In the words of the popular local Chinese aphorism s/he prefers to remain standing on two boats at once (脚蹋两条船), even when they begin to move in different directions. It’s not difficult to see why wisdom remains beyond the reach of such a one.

But there is yet another class of people with whom it is even more difficult to deal. Whereas the doubter might perhaps still be persuaded eventually to choose between the two boats, this latter group has actually already chosen. The Pharisees in the gospel are an obvious example. Their request for a sign from Jesus is only an excuse, a deviously contrived ruse to hide their own stubbornness. They have actually already made up their minds as to the particular kind of Messiah they are willing to accept – someone who matches their own strongly held prejudices. They have already chosen their boat and wish only to arm-twist others, even God, into joining them. Is it any wonder that Jesus’ response is simply to get into his own boat and to sail off to the other shore?

All this is simply a rather long-winded way of describing what St. Ignatius of Loyola offers as the prerequisite, the Principle and Foundation of discernment. In all things, our one desire and choice should be what is more conducive to the end for which we are created, which is the glory of God and our own salvation (SpEx #23). It is this detachment, this Ignatian indifference, for which we need first to pray if we are indeed to receive God's gift of wisdom.

Which boat will we choose today?

Pentecost Sunday Vigil Mass
The Gift of Groaning

Readings: Genesis 11:1-9; Psalm 104:1-2, 24, 35, 27-28, 29, 30; Romans 8:22-27; John 7:37-39
Picture: CC aturkus

Dear sisters and brothers, on this great feast of Pentecost, have you given a thought to what exactly it is you want from the Holy Spirit? What do you want the Spirit to do for you today? And what do you think the Spirit wants to do for you? What does the Spirit want to do for us and for the whole world? Do you know what are the gifts that the Spirit brings? Are you ready to receive these gifts and to use them? Do you really want them?

As you know, the scriptures provide several lists of the gifts of the Spirit. In Isaiah 11, for example, we hear of the spirit of wisdom and understanding… counsel and might… knowledge and the fear of the Lord (Is 11:2, RSV). And in 1 Corinthians 12, Paul speaks of the utterance of wisdom… the utterance of knowledge… faith… gifts of healing… the working of miracles… prophecy... and so on (vv. 8-10). But, as important as all these gifts are, our readings at this evening’s Mass do not really mention them specifically, at least not under the same names. Instead, our readings highlight two things, in particular, that the Spirit does for us. Have you noticed what these two things are?

One of them is mentioned quite obviously in the gospel. Jesus says: If any one is thirsty, let him come to me! Let the one come and drink who believes in me! And the drink that Jesus offers is the Holy Spirit, who flows onto us as the blood and water pour out from the pierced side of Christ while he hangs on the cross (John 19:34). The more obvious gift that the Spirit brings us in today’s readings is the quenching of our thirst for God.

And Jesus also makes it very clear what we have to do to receive this gift. In order to have our thirst quenched, we need to come to him. We need to believe in the power of his Dying and Rising, and to live accordingly. But, as we all know, coming to Jesus is not always an easy thing to do, especially not when he hangs on the cross. It is not easy to continue to follow Jesus when the way leads through a dark valley. To be able to do that, we must actually feel very thirsty. And that is precisely the problem, isn’t it? We don’t always realize how thirsty we really are. Even though we may know that we cannot live without God, we don’t always feel our need for God, do we?

Often, our situation is something like those cases that are reported in the news from time to time. You know those cases where people sit in a stationery car with the engine and the air-conditioner running, not realizing that the exhaust gases may be leaking into the car. Haven’t we heard of people who have died of carbon monoxide poisoning in this way? The deadly gas suffocates them, and they die without even realizing their need for oxygen. The same thing can also happen with our need for God.

Isn’t this what we see in the first reading? Earlier, in the first chapter of the book of Genesis (1:28), God had commanded the human beings to be fruitful and multiply, and fill the whole earth and subdue it. But here, in chapter eleven, instead of obeying God and allowing themselves to be scattered over the whole earth, the people settle down in the land of Shinar. It’s as though, rather than obediently going where God wants them to go, they prefer to lock themselves up in an air-conditioned car. They are so preoccupied with making a name for themselves, they’re so proud of their own achievements, that they are oblivious to their own thirst for God. They fail to realize that they are gradually being poisoned by their own pride, suffocated by their own stubbornness.

And don’t we see similar things going on around us today? Don’t we know of people who may be so engrossed in making money, for example, that they don’t realize the damage they are doing to their own health, or to their family’s well being, or to their own relationship with God? And on an international level, don’t we also see countries that are so focused on increasing their wealth and power that they fail to realize how their own welfare is closely connected to that of the poorer countries that they are exploiting and refusing to help, not to mention the damage that they are causing to the environment? Aren’t these examples similar to people who are suffocating in an air-conditioned car and yet do not know enough to step out for some fresh air? They are dying of thirst and still do not think to stop for a drink.

What do these people need, if not the gift of realizing their own thirst, of feeling their own pain, so that they can reach out to God for help? And this is exactly the gift that the Spirit brings. As Paul tells us in the second reading, we who possess the first-fruits of the Spirit… grown inwardly for our bodies to be set free. A sure sign of the Spirit’s presence is a keen awareness that things are not right in our lives and in the world, a world where the rich get richer and the poor get exploited, where Jews and Muslims kill each other, even as Christians continue to be split into so many different groups, where cyclones can kill more than a hundred thousand people in a single country largely because of governmental neglect. In the face of all these difficult situations, one important gift that the Spirit brings us at Pentecost is the ability to groan in pain.

But this is not the groaning of a terminally ill patient. It is not the despairing cry that precedes a painful death. Instead, as Paul tells us, it is more like the groaning of an expectant mother in the painful yet joyful process of giving birth. It is the groaning of hope, hope for a better tomorrow. It is also the groaning of prayer, which the Spirit himself expresses… in a way that could never be put into words. And in the strength of that prayer, it is also the groaning of action, by which we each contribute what we can to help in delivering the baby of God’s healing presence to a hurting world.

Sisters and brothers, today the Spirit wishes to quench our thirst and to ease our pain. And not just our own, but also that of all the world. But in order to receive this precious gift, we need first to realize how thirsty we really are, how painful it really feels to be separated from God. What we need is first to receive the gift of groaning.

How might we better receive this gift from the Spirit today?

Friday in the 7th Week of Easter
How Old Are You?

Readings: Acts 25:13b-21; Psalm 103:1-2, 11-12, 19-20ab; John 21:15-19
Picture: CC dark_ghetto28

This may sound like a silly question, but if given a choice, which would you prefer to be, young or old? We are probably well aware of the pros and cons, of course. We know about the vigor of youth and the gradual diminishment that comes inevitably with advancing age. And, although there are probably notable exceptions to the rule, we are likely to have witnessed the idealism and naiveté of the young, in contrast with the wisdom and experience of the elderly. So, if given a choice, which would you prefer to be?

Before we answer the question, however, it is important to realize that it is the conversation between Peter and Jesus in today’s gospel that proposes it for our consideration. I tell you most solemnly, says Jesus, when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go. Jesus is speaking of something beyond chronological age. Even so, what is our reaction to his words? What feelings are evoked in us? What images are brought to our minds?

We may think first of some biblical images. We may think of Paul in his youth, when he was still known as Saul, riding zealously to Damascus on horseback, convinced that he was serving God by persecuting Christians (e.g., Acts 22:3-5). When you were young… you walked where you liked. In contrast, there is the Paul of today’s first reading, already far advanced in the years of the Lord, imprisoned by the governor at Caesarea and waiting to be sent to eventual martyrdom in Rome. We may think also of the still youthful Peter at the Last Supper, brimming with self-confidence as he declares before his friends that he will lay down his life for his Master (e.g., Jn 13:37). And, in striking contrast, there is the Peter of today’s gospel. It’s probably only been a matter of days since the Last Supper, but already the experience of the Easter Triduum has aged Peter beyond his years. Lord, you know everything… And, as tradition has it, like Paul, Peter too will be martyred in Rome. And can we not think also of Jesus, the One who was already aged – or, to be more accurate, already eternal – even from his mother’s womb? Are we not reminded of him praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, asking that the cup of suffering be taken away from him, but only if it be the Father’s will (e.g., Matthew 26:39)? When you grow old... somebody else will take you where you would rather not go.

And, pondering these images from the scriptures, might we not also recall images from our daily lives? How about the person who leaves spouse and children in order to pursue apparent personal fulfillment? Or, in contrast, how about the person who continues to care for a chronically ill spouse even when there are possibilities of starting a new life with someone else? No doubt, yet other images will quite easily be brought to mind, images of youth as well as images of age.

But what is significant about these images is not just the fact that the aged are led where they would rather not go. Far more important is what it is that leads them, the very same thing that forms the crux of Jesus’ conversation with Peter today. Simon son of John, do you love me more than these others do? And to understand the power of this question, we must also consider the context in which it is asked, the context of Jesus’ Dying and Rising, as well as of Peter’s denial and resultant remorse. For it is only through his experience of this Mystery that Peter is able not only to give Jesus the right reply but also to answer in the right way, in a way that opens him to receive the power to live out the implications of Christ’s love for him. This same power is what we have been praying for in these days. It is the gift of the Holy Spirit, the love that exists between the Father and the Son. It is the love that matures us in the Father's service. If you love me… Feed my lambs… Look after my sheep… Feed my sheep… If you love me, be willing to grow old for my sake… even to the extent of being led where you’d rather not go…

How old in the Spirit are we today?

Thursday in the 7th Week of Easter
Sacrament of Unity and Love

Readings: Acts 22:30; 23:6-11; Psalm 16:1-2a and 5, 7-8, 9-10, 11; John 17:20-26
Picture: CC cherrytomato
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Wednesday in the 7th Week of Easter
Inner Compass

Readings: Acts 20:28-38; Psalm 68:29-30, 33-35a, 35bc-36ab; John 17:11b-19
Picture: CC alexia *

Today the BBC carried a news report about the partial demolition of a wall in South India. Apparently, the higher caste residents of Uthapuram, a village in Tamil Nadu state, had put up the wall after an outbreak of inter-caste violence in the late 1980s. The wall had served to keep out the Dalits (or untouchables) from the main parts of the village.

The construction of such a wall to guard against undesirable influences might seem to be the first image that comes to mind as we continue to ponder the power of the Holy Spirit in the light of our Mass readings for today. This is especially because both Paul, in the first reading, and Jesus, in the gospel, express a concern for the ongoing protection of those they are leaving behind. I know quite well, says Paul, that when I am gone fierce wolves will invade you and will have no mercy on the flock… So be on your guard. And, in his prayer to his heavenly Father, Jesus highlights the world’s hatred for those who belong to him.

We modern-day Christians can probably identify quite well with this desire for protection, this sense of being besieged by the seductive temptations, the fierce wolves, of the world around us. We are concerned, for example, to protect our children against the insidious influences of the Internet and the Mass Media. We censor our films and filter our email in an effort to screen out unwanted content. Like those high-caste residents of Uthapuram, our first response to undesirable influences often seems to be that of separation. We build a wall.

And yet, we might well wonder if wall building is the only proper Christian response. Of course, we are not necessarily arguing here for the total abolition of censorship, or the tearing down of walls of all kinds. I don’t know what I’d do without a junk email folder. And we cannot fail to acknowledge the importance of shielding children, for example, if only for a time, from the harsh realities of life. But neither can we ignore the fact that God’s approach to a sinful world was not to shun it, but to send the Second Person of the Holy Trinity into it. The Word was made flesh… And, in his earthly ministry, doesn’t Jesus seem to delight in associating with sinners and tax collectors? Wasn’t this partly the reason why he was put to death? Also, in today’s gospel, although Jesus prays for the protection of those who belong to him, he presupposes that they, that we, are called to remain in the world, and not apart from it. Finally, we might well question the effectiveness of a wall for protection, given what Paul says to the elders in the first reading, that even from your own ranks there will be people coming forward with a travesty of the truth on their lips to induce the disciples to follow them.

What then is the protection envisioned by Paul and Jesus, if not a wall to shield us from harm? In a world filled with misleading voices, how do they propose to keep those they are leaving behind faithfully walking along the straight and narrow? The strategy is the same. Paul commends his friends to God, and to the word of his grace… And Jesus asks his Father to keep those you have given true to your name, so that they may be one like us. Instead of an external wall of separation, what Paul and Jesus offer for the disciples’ protection is an inner compass for guidance. And how does this compass work, this unerring pointer to the Truth of God’s Word, if not by the power of the Spirit, who teaches us all things, and reminds us of everything that the Lord has said to us (John 14:26)? The very same Spirit we are praying to experience anew in these days.

How might we grow in following the guidance of this Inner Compass today?