Put A Ring On It

Solemnity Of The Nativity Of The Lord
(Mass During The Day)

Readings: Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 97:1-6; Hebrews 1:1-6; John 1:1-18

I need no permission. Did I mention?
Don't pay him any attention.
‘Cos you had your turn. And now you’re gonna learn.
What it really feels like to miss me.
‘Cos if you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it.
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it...

Sisters and brothers, I think at least some of you are familiar with these words. They come from a song, by Beyoncé, entitled Single Ladies. The song, as you may recall, is sung by a recently single lady. A woman who has just broken up with her boyfriend. And she broke up with him because, even though they had been together for three years, he still hadn’t proposed to her. Hadn’t put a ring on her finger. Perhaps he had shown her a good time. Bought her expensive gifts. Even whispered sweet nothings in her ear. But, after three years, all of that just wasn’t enough. ‘Cos, if you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it. If he really loved her, he should have proposed to her by now.

The song can perhaps be summarised in three words: Talk is cheap. Talk is cheap, if it’s not translated into appropriate action. Into visible effects. Words of love should eventually lead to a marriage proposal. A ring on the finger. A visible expression of the lover’s commitment to spending his whole life with the beloved. Otherwise they’re just mere words. Empty talk. Hollow sounds that can be heard. But the effects of which cannot be seen. And talk like that doesn’t have much value. Empty talk is cheap. If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it…

I mention this song not because I want to scandalise you. But  because I think it provides a helpful contrast to what we are celebrating today. Christmas is the exact opposite of empty talk. In direct contrast to worthless words, what we celebrate today is a Word-Beyond-Price. A Word of great Power and Beauty. A Word that has visible effects in our lives and in our world. A Word that can not only be heard. But also seen and felt.

In the first reading, for seventy long years, the people of Judah have been suffering in exile in Babylon. And now, God finally speaks to them a reassuring Word. A promise of salvation. And, unlike many of our human words, God’s Word is not empty but full. God’s Word is grounded in a serious commitment on the part of God. Commitment to the people’s well-being. Commitment that is expressed in effective action. Not only is the Lord consoling his people. The Lord is actually already redeeming them. Setting them free from exile. Returning them to their own land. The Lord bares his holy arm in the sight of the nations, and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God. Unlike empty talk, which only rings in our ears, God’s Word has effects that can be seen with our eyes. It is a Word-of-Great-Beauty. A Word-Beyond-Price.

But that’s still not quite the full extent of what we celebrate at Christmas. For what is seen in the first reading are only the effects of God’s Word spoken through the prophets. Through human messengers. At Christmas, something even more wonderful happens. Not just the effects. But God’s Word Himself becomes visible. Speaking to us no longer only through the borrowed voices of human messengers. But in His own Voice. As the second reading reminds us, at various times in the past... God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets; but in our own time... he has spoken to us through his Son.

And the gospel tells us just how this remarkable communication comes about. The Word was made flesh, he lived among us, and we saw his glory. This is what Christmas is about. This is what we celebrate. The Word of God, the Second Person of the Trinity, becomes a human being. Takes on human flesh. So as to speak to us, in a human voice that is His very own. To bear with us the burdens and temptations of human existence, in a body that is his very own. To lay down, and then to take up again, a human life that is his very own. And all of this to prove to us just how committed God is to us. How much in love God is with us. How willing God is to pay any price, to bear any sacrifice, for us.

Sisters and brothers, this is the wondrous Mystery we are celebrating today. The Mystery of a God who is not satisfied with just whispering sweet nothings in our ears. Or simply showing us a good time. Today, we celebrate a God who does what that boyfriend in Beyoncé’s song was unwilling to do. In the coming of Christ at Christmas, God makes an unbreakable commitment to us. God offers us an irrevocable proposal of marriage. God gives to us a ring to be placed on our finger. A visible sign of a Love-Beyond-All-Telling. Spoken in a Word-of-Great-Beauty. A Word-That-Was-Made-Flesh. A Word-Beyond-Price.

And what a joy this is for us. This commitment of God. For us who live in a society that enjoys such a great abundance of options. But that so often finds itself unable to choose among them. Unwilling to commit to any one of them. For to say yes to one, is also often to so no to the others. Something that many of us can’t quite bring ourselves to do. Are afraid to do. And, even when we do manage to commit, we frequently find ourselves unable to live out the implications of that commitment. Isn’t this why so many marriages break down? And within a few years of the wedding.

And yet, even though we may seem so allergic to commitment, there remains a part of us that can’t live without it. In a society that often seems to know nothing else than empty talk, there remains a place deep within our hearts where we still yearn to hear and to see the Word-Beyond-Price. To experience God committing Himself to us in an irrevocable proposal of marriage.

But let us be honest, sisters and brothers. A marriage proposal is still only a proposal. For a marriage to result, something else is needed. The proposal must be accepted. Accepted not just with empty talk. But with true commitment. Commitment made visible in lives that are lived the way John the Baptist lived his life. As a witness to speak for the light, so that everyone might believe through him. This, too, my dear friends, is what we celebrate at Christmas. Not just God’s commitment to us. But also our acceptance of that commitment. And our making of a return-commitment to God. In our Baptism. In our Confirmation. In the Eucharist. In our daily lives...

Sisters and brothers, empty talk is cheap. If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it. In the coming of Christ at Christmas, our Divine Boyfriend has already placed a ring on our finger. Has already committed Himself to us in a Word that cannot be taken back. A Word-of-Great-Beauty. A Word-Made-Flesh. A Word-Beyond-Price. How shall we respond? What kind of word shall we speak? What commitment shall we make? How might we place a ring on the Lord’s finger today?

Proof of the Pudding

4th Sunday in Advent (B)

Readings: 2 Samuel 7:1-5,8-11,16; Psalm 88:2-5,27,29; Romans 16:25-27; Luke 1:26-38

Picture: cc Nickster 2000

The proof of the pudding is in the eating. Sisters and brothers, I’m sure you’re familiar with this old English saying. You know what it means. It refers to how the true value of something is judged, not so much by looking at it, but by experiencing it. By putting it to use. So a house, for example, may look very elegant and impressive on the outside. But you still wouldn’t consider it a good house, if things start to fall apart soon after you move in. If the floor tiles start popping up, for example. Or the water pipes start leaking. Or the paint begins to peel. In that case, you could probably use another saying to describe the house. A Chinese one this time. You could say that the house was ho kua bo ho jiak (好看不好吃). Nice to look at, but not good to eat.

And it is, of course, wise to recall these proverbs not just after you’ve moved into the house. That would be too late. Better to be mindful of them while the house is still being built. So that you’ll take care to ensure that the house is properly constructed. Built to be lived in. And not just to be looked at. So that you’ll remember to make certain that, in constructing your house, the contractor uses durable materials. And good workmanship.

But why talk about building houses in Advent? As you know, Advent is a time for making space for the God-Who-Comes. In a sense, in Advent, we make an effort to build a spiritual house for the Christ-child. So that there will be a place fit for him to live in–in our hearts and in our homes, in our church and in our world–when he comes to us at Christmas. But what kind of building must we do to ensure that Jesus finds a fitting welcome? A house that’s not just nice to look at. But also good to eat. Fit for the Lord to live in. This is the crucial question that our Mass readings help us to answer, on this 4th and final Sunday of Advent.

The first reading presents us with a rather curious situation. King David wants to build a House, a Temple, for God. But God refuses to let him do so. Why? Why not let David go ahead with his plans? I’m not sure, sisters and brothers. But perhaps it has something to do with how God wants God’s House to be built. At this point in the story, King David has just succeeded in defeating all his enemies. After a string of victorious battles, the Lord has finally given him rest. But David doesn’t seem to want to rest. He prefers to quickly get busy again. To undertake a huge building project to add to the list of his achievements on the battle-field.

God, however, seems mindful of the dangers that come with this kind of building. Building on one’s own achievements. Building from a interior place of busyness and restlessness. Very likely God knows that this kind of building too easily leads to the inflation of one’s own ego. We end up building a house not for God but for ourselves. A house that might be nice to look at, but not good to eat. So God stops David. And, instead, reminds the king that all the achievements he has accumulated so far, have been attained only through the help of God. They are blessings. So that, rather than presume to build a House for God, David should first take time to rest in, and to be grateful for, the house that God is building for him. And his people.

In this way, God teaches David (and the rest of us) the proper way to build a House for God. A space fit for God to live in. And not just nice to look at. Such a holy place must be built not on one’s own achievements. But on the blessings received from God. Not from an anxious need to remain constantly busy. But from a place of tranquility and rest. Rest that God alone can provide. Rest in the delight that our loving God takes in each and all of us. Without our having, or being able, to do anything to earn it. This is how we build for the sake of God. And not just to feed our own hungry egos. It is only in this way that we can do what the second reading encourages us to do. To give glory to him through Jesus Christ for ever and ever. Amen.

But, even if all this theory is true, how does it translate into practice? What does it look like when someone finds the courage to build in this way. To build on blessings rather than achievements. To build from a place of rest rather than anxiety. To build to glorify God rather than to feed one’s own ego. The answer is found in the gospel. Here, it is Mary who shows us how to build a House fit for God. It is Mary who demonstrates to us how to make a space for God to enter into our hearts, into our lives, and into our world.

Notice how the building is done only at God’s initiative. Only on the foundation of God’s blessing. That is why the angel calls Mary highly favoured. Full of grace. Her part is only to obey. To yield to God’s call. To accept God’s gift. Which, in itself, is not an easy thing to do. For, to do this, Mary has to adjust the plans that have already been made for her and Joseph, her betrothed. She has to consent to being the mother of a child whose father is not her husband. A very dangerous prospect at the time. It is no wonder then, that Mary is, at first, deeply disturbed.

And yet, she courageously brings her unrest before the Lord. She bravely questions the angel. Who tells her what she needs to hear, in order for her to once again find rest. So that, by the end of their conversation, Mary is able to give to the angel her generous consent. To say yes to making a space for God in her heart and in her womb. And, in the process, God finds a home on earth. A Temple made not of stone, but of human flesh. Built not on human achievements, but on divine grace. Constructed not to feed egos, but to glorify God.

All of which should help us to reflect on our own ongoing efforts at preparing for Christ’s coming at Christmas. Very likely, we are buying gifts and organising parties. We have put up cribs and decorated Christmas trees. We have gathered with others to share our prayers and to confess our sins. All these activities are good and necessary. Important ways by which we prepare to welcome the Lord. And yet, it also remains crucial for us to remember the lesson that our Mass readings are teaching us today. That all these efforts of ours at building a spiritual house for God will only bear good fruit to the extent that we are truly building for God and not just for ourselves. Truly building on our blessings and not just on our achievements. Truly building from an interior place of rest and not restlessness. And to do this means that, more than frantic activity, what we need is patient courage. Courage that Mary had. Courage to count our blessings. To rest in God’s love. And to give praise and glory to the Lord of our Salvation.

Sisters and brothers, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. How good is your pudding today?

Naked Unto Joy

3rd Sunday in Advent (B)

Readings: Isaiah 61:1-2,10-11; Luke 1:46-50,53-54; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28

Picture: asiaone

Sisters and brothers, if the news reports are to be believed, there were at least 100 very happy people on Orchard Road last Thursday morning. Perhaps some of you know what I’m talking about. You know the reason for the joy. You know that, on Thursday morning, a certain clothing store on Orchard Road launched its annual winter promotion by offering free clothes to its first 100 shoppers. Of course, that in itself is no big deal. After all, distributing freebies is a common sales gimmick. What made the event stand out was the fact that, in order to get the free clothes, the first 100 customers had to show up at the store half-naked! That’s right. It was a Semi-Naked Sale. Come in swimwear, and we’ve got you covered. That was the slogan.

And what do you think was the response? Well, pretty good, apparently. The first two people in line started queueing from as early as 11pm the night before! And, by 8am on Thursday morning, there were already close to 70 people outside the store. All eagerly waiting to experience the joy of being clothed for free. So eager that they were willing to shed their dignity. To strip off their garments. To bare their bodies. If only partially.

Sisters and brothers, before you rush off to report me to the Archbishop, please let me assure you that I am in no way expressing support for or approval of this Semi-Naked Sales Promotion. Much less am I suggesting that we do the same here in church. I mention this only because, strange as it may sound, I think it bears more than a passing resemblance to what we find in our readings on this 3rd Sunday of Advent.

As you know, traditionally, the 3rd Sunday of Advent is also known as Gaudete Sunday. From the Latin word that means rejoice! And indeed our readings today are full of joy. Filled with encouragement to rejoice. It’s as though our liturgy were carrying out a winter promotion of its own. A pre-Christmas campaign of joy. And, like that sales event on Orchard Road, the first reading describes this joy in terms of someone getting clothes for free. I exult for joy in the Lord, the prophet exclaims. My soul rejoices in my God, for he has clothed me in the garments of salvation, he has wrapped me in the cloak of integrity...

But what does this mean for us? What are these garments of salvation? What is this cloak of integrity? And how does this person come to be clothed? The first reading compares these clothes to the finery worn by a bride and her groom. Except that, as we all know, it’s not really the clothes and accessories themselves that bring joy at a wedding. These things symbolise something much deeper. At a wedding, the bride and groom dress themselves up not just in specially tailored fabrics. And finely crafted jewellery. When they get married, the couple are actually clothing themselves in one another. In the love that they have for each other. This is the deeper reason for their joy.

Similarly, the joy that the prophet speaks about in the first reading does not come from being clothed in any ordinary outfit. Not even something made by the most famous of fashion designers. What the prophet rejoices in, the thing that he is being clothed with, is nothing less than God Himself. The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for the Lord has anointed me… This is the cause of joy. Not just being clothed in garments of gold. But being anointed by the Spirit of God. Being wrapped in the power and presence of God.


And this is also the reason why, in the second reading, St. Paul wants the Thessalonians to be happy at all times. Not so much because all their problems have been solved. Or because they have nothing anymore to be sad about. But because, in Baptism, they have all been clothed in Christ Jesus. Wrapped in the Spirit. Who keeps them safe and blameless. Even in the midst of their struggles. Helping them to remain faithful to God. Even as they continue to do what we ourselves are doing in this beautiful Season of Advent. Await the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

But that’s not all. Joy and clothing are not the only things that our liturgy has in common with that sales event on Orchard Road Thursday morning. There is something else. The joy that God provides in our readings is offered to a particular group of people. In the first reading, the prophet is sent to comfort a people in Exile. To bring good news to the poor, to bind up hearts that are broken. In the responsorial psalm, the Blessed Virgin Mary sings of how God looks on his servant in her nothingness. How he fills the starving with good things. And sends the rich away empty. The people that God chooses to clothe in garments of joy are people who are in need. People who are, in a sense, naked. And not just naked. But unable to clothe themselves. And not just unable to clothe themselves. But ready and willing to acknowledge and to accept their inability. To embrace their vulnerability. To own up to their weakness. To their need for God.

This too is what we find in John the Baptist. In the gospel, the Baptist has no illusions about who he is and what he can and cannot do. He accepts that he is not the light. Only a witness to speak for the light. He freely admits that he is not the Christ. Not the Saviour of the world. Indeed he considers himself unfit even to undo the sandal-strap of the One who is coming after him.

What we find in John the Baptist, sisters and brothers, is a refreshing humility. A paradoxical modesty. That is unafraid to stand naked before God. And it is precisely into the hearts and lives of people such as this that Christ the Lord chooses to come. People willing to be stripped of all the things that others may use to cover up their human weakness. People willing to come before God in their nakedness. It is precisely such people that God chooses to clothe in garments of joy.

All of which should prompt us to reflect upon ourselves. We who continue to prepare ourselves to welcome the Lord when he comes at Christmas. We who make it a habit to buy and to wear  new clothes in the festive season. Which, in itself, is not a bad thing. As long as we do not forget that what’s more important is to allow ourselves to be anointed, enwrapped, by the Spirit of God. To be clothed in the precious Body and Blood of Christ. And this is something that we cannot do for ourselves. It is a gift from God. Freely given to those of us who are willing to lay bare those areas in our lives that we prefer to keep under wraps. Areas where we are weak and vulnerable. Helpless and needy. Places where our consciences may have been pricked. Our egos deflated. Our hearts broken and torn...

Sisters and brothers, there seems to be no shortage of people willing to bare their bodies before others. Just to receive clothes that will last for a few years. How willing are we to bare our souls before God. So as to receive garments that will endure for all eternity? On this 3rd Sunday in Advent, how ready are you to stand naked before God today?

Called From Coma To Consciousness

1st Sunday in Advent (B)

Readings: Isaiah 63:16-17,64:1,3-8; Psalm 79:2-3,15-16,18-19; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; Mark 13:33-37

Picture: cc BK

Sisters and brothers, I once heard a story about someone who fell into a coma after a serious car accident. And the doctors were unable to revive her. In desperation, the family sought the help of a folk healer. Who said that the trauma of the accident had somehow caused the person’s soul to become separated from her body. And, since the body had been moved, the soul was now unable to find its way back to it. Hence the coma. To help the person, the healer went back to the scene of the accident and performed some rituals to recall the soul. And to lead it back to where the body lay, unconscious, in hospital. Well, believe it or not, soon after that, the comatose patient actually regained full consciousness. Much to the family’s relief.

To be called from coma to consciousness. Wouldn’t that be a precious gift? But perhaps we may be unimpressed. After all, how often does a person fall into a coma? And is it even possible for a soul to be separated and then reunited with the body? Surely this is only a fairy tale.

And yet, haven’t we met people who live more or less habitually in a coma-like condition? People who seem less than fully conscious. People who are there, but not quite there. People who, for example, may have been traumatised by some event in the past. And, as a result, are only half alive, because they can’t get over the hurt. Or can’t forgive the one who hurt them.

And what about people who are not so much caught up in the past as obsessed with something in the present? Something like money. Or success. Or good looks. Or gambling. Or gaming... Don’t obsessions like these also cause people to be somehow less than conscious? To live as though their souls were separated from their bodies?

Nor are trauma and obsession the only things that can cause such a condition. Technology too can result in a loss of consciousness. Don’t we often see people walking down the street, for example, with their eyes glued to their phones? Or driving a car while texting? Or even listening to a homily while tweeting? Like the person in a coma, they too are there, but not quite there. They walk without really walking. Drive without really driving. Listen without really listening. In fact, it’s probably no exaggeration to say that many of us live much of our lives precisely in such a coma-like condition. With our souls separated, to a greater or lesser extent, from our bodies.

And, of course, our modern society encourages such a condition. We call it multi-tasking. A skill that we cannot do without if we wish to survive and thrive in this fast-paced world of ours. And yet, it doesn’t take much reflection on our part to see that multi-tasking comes at a cost. Just as the accident victim’s coma caused her and her family to suffer. So too does our habitual lack of consciousness hurt others and ourselves as well. Not only do we fail to attend adequately to those around us. We lose sight even of our own legitimate needs. Not only do we tend to neglect our family and friends. Our colleagues and classmates. We may forget even to eat when we ourselves are hungry. To rest when we are tired. To relax when we are stressed. To socialise when we are lonely. To pray when we are burdened… Our coma causes suffering. In ourselves as much as in others.

But if this is true, then what can be done for us? How can we be brought back to consciousness? Sisters and brothers, could it be that what we need is something like what that folk healer was able to provide for the comatose patient? We need someone to call our souls back into our bodies. And isn’t this what our Mass readings do for us on this first Sunday in Advent?

In the gospel, Jesus issues an urgent call to consciousness. In the space of five short verses, the Lord repeats the same instruction no less than four times. Stay awake… because you never know when the time will come… Stay awake… because you do not know when the master of the house is coming… Stay awake! Be attentive to the signs of the master’s coming. Stay awake! But how do we do this? How do we stay awake and remain watchful for God’s coming? We who habitually live in a semi, if not fully, comatose condition. We who are often oblivious even to our own legitimate desires. Let alone the needs of others. How can we become conscious enough to welcome the Lord when he chooses to come to meet us?

Our readings help by awakening in us three important dispositions. The first is something central to the season of Advent. Something expressed very beautifully in both the first reading and the responsorial psalm. Oh, that you would tear the heavens and come down, the prophet Isaiah exclaims. A moving cry of longing matched by the words of the psalmist: God of hosts, bring us back; let your face shine on us and we shall be saved. What these words can do for us, sisters and brothers–if only we pay careful attention to them–is awaken in us that deep longing that each of us has. A longing for full consciousness. A longing  for true happiness. A longing to experience God’s boundless love. A longing that leaves us feeling restless, even when busy with many things. Or frustrated, even when our materials needs have been met. Or lonely, even amidst many people. A longing that motivates us to remain alert for signs of the Lord’s coming.

The second thing that our readings awaken in us is contrition. In the first reading, after begging God to come, the prophet confesses his people’s sinfulness. We had long been rebels against you… And yet, in the midst of this consciousness of sin, the prophet continues to trust in the abiding mercy of God. He remembers who God is and what God has done for the people. You, Lord, yourself are our Father. Our Redeemer...We the clay, you the potter, we are the work of your hand.

Which brings us to the third thing that our readings awaken in us. As we remember all that God has done and continues to do for us. As we remember who God has been and continues to be for to us. What is awakened in us is gratitude. The same gratitude that we find St. Paul expressing in the second reading. I never stop thanking God, he writes to the Corinthians, for all the graces you have received through Jesus Christ… because God, by calling you has joined you to his Son, Jesus Christ…

Longing, contrition and gratitude. Three things that our readings awaken in us. If only we listen carefully to the call that they address to us. A call to greater wakefulness. A call to deeper consciousness. A call to closer attention to the different and exciting ways in which God chooses to come to meet us in our daily lives.

Sisters and brothers, as we begin this beautiful season of Advent, our loving God is calling out to each of us. Calling our wandering souls to return to our bodies. Calling us to wake from our comas into fuller consciousness. What will you do to respond to this call today?

Signs Of Citizenship

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ King of the Universe (A)

Readings: Ezekiel 34:11-12,15-17; Psalm 22:1-3,5-6; 1 Corinthians 15:20-26,28; Matthew 25:31-46

Picture: cc mroach

Sisters and brothers, imagine for a moment that you want to know whether someone is a citizen of Singapore. Or of some other country. How would you tell? What signs would you look for? One possible sign is, of course, place. Not necessarily the place where the person lives and works. For we all know that a person can live and work in one country, and remain a citizen of another. What we need to consider is not so much the place of residence, as the place of recognition. The place that recognises the person as its citizen. And the place that the person recognises as his/her home.

But how do we tell what this place is? And what does this recognition look like? Well, another sign we might consider is privilege. A citizen enjoys certain privileges at home that non-citizens do not. Here in Singapore, for example, the privilege of owning private residential property is accorded mainly to citizens. Foreign ownership is very much restricted.

But even more than place and privilege, what is perhaps one of the most reliable signs of citizenship is, of course, the passport. A person can quickly prove that s/he is a Singaporean simply by flashing that bright red Singapore passport. So place, privilege, and passport. Three signs for determining whether or not a person is actually a citizen of a particular country.

And yet, as important as it may be to know a person’s nationality, we Christians believe that we are ultimately citizens not of the nations of this world. But of the world to come. We are subjects not just of any earthly government. But of a heavenly ruler. The same person whose solemn feast we celebrate today. Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. But how can we tell whether this is indeed the case? Are there signs that indicate to us and to others that we are in fact citizens of the Kingdom of God? I believe this is the question that our Mass readings help us to answer today. And the answer is yes. There are reliable tell-tale signs of heavenly citizenship. Signs similar to those that indicate earthly citizenship.

The first sign is again place. Of course, all of us live and work here in this world. This is our current place of residence. And yet, for us who are Christian, this is not quite our eternal home. Like the psalmist, we too can sing of dwelling in the Lord’s own house for ever and ever. Now it’s likely that the psalmist was referring to the Temple in Jerusalem. The place where God was believed to live among the people of Israel. But that holy place is now no more. It has long since been destroyed by the Romans. We Christians believe and live in a different holy place. A new Temple. Made not of solid brick but of living flesh. With Christ as its cornerstone. For us Christians, the place that we recognise as our true home is the Body of Christ. The Church assembled by God. The eternal Jerusalem.

The million dollar question is, of course, whether or not this is really what we believe. Whether or not we actually recognise Christ as our true home. And we answer this question not so much with our lips, but with the lives that we lead. As we go through our daily routines, what is it that takes up most of our time and energy? Are we concerned only with making a comfortable dwelling for ourselves here on this earth? Or is our attention focused instead more on deepening our relationship with God? With securing our home in Christ?

The second sign of heavenly citizenship is privilege. The same privilege that God promises the people in the first reading. And that the psalmist sings about in the responsorial psalm. The wondrous privilege of having Christ as our Good Shepherd. The precious experience of being watched over and protected by a caring and merciful Lord. Who even lays down his life for us. So as to rescue us when we are in trouble. To free us when we find ourselves painfully trapped in our own sinful tendencies and petty resentments. The priceless consolation of being led to refreshing streams when we are thirsty. And treated to a rich banquet when we are hungry. Hungry and thirsty not just for food and drink. But especially for meaning and direction. For love and affection. For inspiration and encouragement.

To be a citizen of the kingdom of God, a sheep of the Lord’s pasture, is to know how to gain access to these privileges. Through personal prayer, for example. And through the celebration of the Sacraments. Chief among which is the Sacrament of the Eucharist that we are gathered here to partake in today. Of course, those who are citizens of the world, will think of prayer and the Sacraments as nothing more than burdensome obligations. Even a massive waste of time. But the citizens of the kingdom of God think differently. They know, from experience, that prayer and the Sacraments are truly a happy privilege. Even a joyous necessity. For they provide much needed nourishment on the journey to our heavenly home.

And yet we must take care not to be mistaken. All this talk about looking forward to another home must not lead us to think that we should neglect our current place of residence. This present world in which we live. Much less the people who share it with us. For our readings speak of a third sign of heavenly citizenship. A kind of passport. A travel document not printed on paper. But written with works of mercy. The same works described by the king in the gospel today. I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you made me welcome... Works of mercy done for the least of the brothers and sisters of Christ. Works of mercy that remain much needed in our world today. Works of mercy that gain us entry into the kingdom prepared for us since the foundation of the world.

So, sisters and brothers, place, privilege and passport are as much signs of heavenly citizenship as they are of the earthly kind. And it is crucial that we keep cultivating these signs in our own lives. For, as St. Paul reminds us in the second reading, the difference between heavenly and earthly citizenship is nothing less than the difference between eternal life and death. For just as all men die in Adam, so all men will be brought to life in Christ.

Sisters and brothers, on this last Sunday of our liturgical year, we are reminded that here we have no lasting city, but we are looking for the city that is to come (Hb 13:14). The city in which Christ is acclaimed King of the Universe. The city in which God is worshipped as all in all.

Sisters and brothers, what will you do to claim and to keep your citizenship in this heavenly city today?