Monthly Archives: September 2016

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)
Amos 6:1,4-7 | Psalm 145:7-10 | 1 Timothy 6:11-16 | Luke 16:19-31

If they will not listen either to Moses or to the prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone should rise from the dead. (Luke 16:31)

I mentioned that I visited a replica of Our Lord’s Tomb at Carfin in yesterday’s blog entry. What I didn’t say was that while I felt at peace in the darkness with a marble statue of Our Lord in repose, I jumped a little at an unexpected sound from behind me, as if a corpse suddenly reanimated itself in the shadows. It wouldn’t matter what message it might have for me; I’d either be running away or collapsed from a heart attack.

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Even in Jesus’ time, the Jews had a long oral and written history of the way to right living through loving others, especially those who were disadvantaged. We now have a further two millennia of scripture and tradition to drive that point home.

So if someone we knew was dead suddenly reappeared in our lives, what difference would that make? According to St. Thomas Aquinas, nothing at all:

To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary.
To one without faith, no explanation is possible.

I have a slightly different take: To one without faith, every other explanation is valid. He wasn’t actually dead, he just faked an ocean drowning for monetary reasons. Or maybe he was temporarily dead, woke up in the mortuary and somehow convinced the hysterical staff to substitute a dead John Doe for cremation in his place.

Anything but “God is real, and I’ll be drowning in eternal hellfire really soon, for all the times I ignored all the instructions of divine love and went my own selfish way.”

Lord, you have given us Moses, the prophets, the apostles, and especially Your Only Begotten Son to instruct us in Your ways. Help us to pay heed to their words, and so to act in accordance with Your will. For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever. Amen.

Friday of Week 25 in Ordinary Time (Year II)
Saint Pius of Pietrelcina
Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 | Psalm 143:1-4 | Luke 9:18-22

Ecclesiastes 3 (“To everything, there is a season”) has long been one of my favourite Bible passages, mainly because I’m rather philosophical about life matters. It’s also the passage that first illustrated to me the concept of kairos, or “the appointed time when God acts”, as opposed to chronos, the ticking of the seconds that we humans are so obsessed with.

When we count the years of our lives, etched in the aches and pains of our ageing bodies,
when we stare at the office clock, waiting for this lousy day to end,
when we fume in a traffic jam,
chronos is in charge.

When we celebrate each birthday with friends and family, taking joy in our communion with others,
when we focus on and complete each task at hand,
when we pray the rosary while waiting for traffic to clear,
we admit kairos, and time as we know and feel it slips away.

God, of course, is the master of kairos. When it is His will that we should receive it, He will give it to us…whether or not we asked for it in prayer, and always at the time in which we can most benefit from it.

I didn’t ask for our coach captain to play some Irish pub songs while I was drafting this entry, but he did, and one of them became the central theme.

We in turn need to be open to kairos, to look beyond the wearying and relentless march of days, to find and act upon the simple and refreshing God-given moments.

Yesterday, the weather at the Knock Shrine went from sunny to Singapore-like windstorm in an instant. Despite all that, I decided to continue exploring the extensive shrine grounds, and chanced upon a small chapel tucked away in an obscure corner. I ducked in to get out of the freezing rain…and came face to face with a Blessed Sacrament exposition. After half an hour of communing with Christ, I emerged to even more freezing rain, but it didn’t affect me that much any more, and it directly inspired this entry.

Lord, we thank You for giving us life-altering moments and gifts, but always in Your time rather than ours. Help us to tear ourselves away from obsessing over the advancing years, and always remain open to Your loving works as and when You deem it right to bestow them on us. Amen.

Thursday of Week 25 in Ordinary Time (Year II)
Ecclesiastes 1:2-11 | Psalm 89:3-6,12-14,17 | Luke 9:7-9

Yesterday, we visited the Rock of Cashel, an ancient and very significant site that is currently undergoing restoration. What struck me was how these solid structures were built for the ages, yet crumbled within a century of being abandoned by their human caretakers.

Similarly, today’s reading reminds us that all the edifices we build, everything that proclaims “look, I have done this, is it not magnificent?”, will one day crumble to dust. Our ancient forebears did the same self-promotion, from the Egyptian pyramids on down, but as Qoholeth says: “no memory remains of earlier times, just as in times to come next year itself will not be remembered.” (Ecclesiastes 1:11)

And so:

I shall eschew vanity.
Vanity is the soul-killer.
Vanity is the self-acclamation that brings final obscurity.
I will face my vanity.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when the vanity has gone past, I will turn my soul’s eye to follow its path.
Where the vanity has gone, there will be nothing.
Only God will remain.
— The Litany Against Vanity
inspired by The Litany Against Fear (Dune, Frank Herbert)

Lord, I am as nothing compared to You. It is You alone who are exalted, You alone who are the Lord of all. Help me spend less time making a giant of myself, and more time proclaiming Your goodness in word and action, for Yours is the kingdom, the power and the glory, now and forever. Amen.

Saint Matthew, Apostle, Evangelist
Ephesians 4:1-7,11-13 | Psalm 18:2-5 | Matthew 9:9-13

Matthew was a tax collector.

Not a popular man to be sure, he was probably despised by the general populace, and probably had his life threatened at one point on another. After all, who likes to pay taxes?

Then Jesus crossed his path, and his life was never the same again.

Of course, he was still looked down upon by his countrymen, but we today reap the fruits of his labours as an evangelist and author of one of the canonical Gospels. Not bad for someone whose profession consisted of taking money from unwilling ordinary folk.

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Sometimes, the people who cross our paths are less than friendly, or their general behaviour might be un-Christian, or perhaps they might even “smell bad”. We might try to minimise our contact with them, and maybe even ask “Lord, why did you bring this person into my life?”

I believe each and every person is brought into my life for a reason. For instance:

• My oldest friend, a staunch atheist, has been instrumental in bolstering my faith, by asking all the questions about what I believe and do that I never thought to ask myself.
• A brash client some years back gave me a really hard time on a project, which got me rather upset, until I found out from one of his subordinates that he was battling cancer, and this project would likely be his last. I then realised that what I saw as nasty behaviour was really a driving passion, possibly fueled by mortal desperation. Since then, I’ve tried to approach each thing I do in the manner that every priest is encouraged to celebrate mass – as my first (enthusiasm), my last (finality), and my only task (focus).
• Many pilgrims I’ve travelled with have struck me as rather odd folk, until they share with everyone their own life stories. I’ve never failed to marvel at some aspect of their lives or conversion stories that led them to this time and place, and while I may still be occasionally annoyed by their behaviour, I don’t dwell on it any further.

Likewise, I’m sure more than a few people think me a rather odd duck, by turns passionate and head-scratchingly insane. I’ve never been a people-person, so my reactions to interactions with and around me would probably puzzle many folks. Still, I hope I’ve provoked at least one person to see their relationship with Christ in a different light, as so many people have helped me do the same.

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(For everyone who’s read this far, expecting a rooster payoff, here it is.)

On the way to Waterford in Ireland yesterday, our coach captain Mark (hey, evangelical shout-out!) happened to play a CD of Irish pub tunes. Hidden among a dozen drinking and wooing songs was this hilarious ditty that, in my mind, perfectly encapsulates Jesus’ effect on Matthew, the apostles, and countless people till this day. I’ve never likened Christ to a rooster before, and I don’t expect to repeat it after today, but the coincidence was just too rich to pass up.

THE ROOSTER (Fair Isle Folk)

We had some chickens, no eggs would they lay
We had some chickens, no eggs would they lay
Oh the wife said “honey, we’re losing money” (oh yeah)
Because them chickens, no eggs would they lay

Then came a rooster into our yard
And he caught them chickens right off of their guard
They’re laying eggs now like they never used to
Since that rooster came into our yard