Monthly Archives: February 2017

Wednesday of Week 5 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Saint Jerome Emiliani
St Josephine Bakhita, Virgin
Genesis 2:4-9,15-17 | Psalm 103(104):1-2,27-30 | Mark 7:14-23

Nevertheless of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you are not to eat, for on the day you eat of it you shall most surely die. (Genesis 2:17)

My old friend and I had a spirited discussion en route to my client’s office today. The subject was an unexpected one: papal elections. I was describing the election process when he interjected that it sounded very political, and ripe for manipulation.

He proposed instead that the Cardinal electors make their nominations in secret, then have all the names placed on a big wheel, rather like the famous one on The Price is Right.

Not so gaudy, but you get the idea.

Each Cardinal elector would then spin the wheel, and the name it landed on would be tallied. After all electors had their spin, the nominee with the lowest tally would be removed from the wheel.

Rinse and repeat until habemus papam!

He argued that this would remove any possibility of politicking, and if God chose to point the way, He could influence the wheel.

I argued that the current way (secret balloting) left nothing to chaos. He shot back that it was better than relying on human fallibility, inspired or not by the Holy Spirit.

I decided to play the scriptural tradition card, and began relating the election of Matthias to replace Judas Iscariot among the ranks of the apostles (Acts 1:15-26). Three things happened in quick succession:

• I remembered too late: that election was settled by casting lots, quite similar to what he was suggesting
• He had to take an important call
• I arrived at my destination

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

I’ve known quite a few people who say, without a trace of irony, “blessed are the gong-gong (ignorant)”. They’re usually the same folks who’ll blindly promote homeopathic cures, or some such “grandmother’s remedy” that, to my science-trained mind, lacks real-world plausibility.

I think the same goes for our faith in God. It’s easy to say “I love God and God loves me, that’s all I need to know”, but that’s the kind of faith that’s built on sand (Matthew 7:26), liable to be blown over by a small tragedy, or a challenge from an unbelieving friend.

Yet some would say “but, but, God said not to eat of the tree of knowledge!” Well, that Pandora’s box of mortality has already been opened by Adam and Eve, and our faith is now under constant assault by secular forces. We cannot afford to remain ignorant of what we profess to believe in.

We also cannot afford to treat God like some mysterious grandfatherly figure; a memory just surfaced in which I overheard a parent explaining to her child how Our Creator was like Santa Claus!

It behooves us to study and meditate upon the twin pillars of scripture and tradition that support our belief.

It behooves us to give flesh to the skeleton of “God is good all the time!”, rather than just toss that phrase out and have others laugh at its flimsiness.

It behooves us to be confident that the more we learn about Him, the more we will love Him.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

I don’t know if my old friend and I will resume our papal elections discussion when we meet up today, but just in case, I’ll have to figure out how to continue it in an informed way. He expects nothing less from me, and I’m sure God does too.

Amen.

Tuesday of Week 5 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Genesis 1:20-2:4 | Psalm 8:4-9 | Mark 7:1-13

God blessed them, saying to them, ‘Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth and conquer it. Be masters of the fish of the sea, the birds of heaven and all living animals on the earth.’ (Genesis 1:28)

We can see the results of all that “conquering” and “mastery” today. Yes, we have technological riches and possessions in abundance, but we also have open mines that scar the earth, pollution galore, a general lack of reverence towards God, and a distinct lack of love for each other.

It’s that last bit that made human regulations necessary, a tacit admission that we all can’t voluntarily live in harmony and mutual understanding, so we draw up laws as a poor substitute, to keep us all functioning in a semblance of “one body, one spirit”.

Thus Jesus reminded the Pharisees:

This people honours me only with lip-service,
while their hearts are far from me.
The worship they offer me is worthless,
the doctrines they teach are only human regulations. (Mark 7:6-7)

Human laws aren’t necessarily bad, though some (like those legalizing abortion) are particularly distressing. We just need to remember that love of God and neighbour should not be limited to what our local bishop considers “minimum Catholic activity”. We should be willing, indeed glad, to stretch ourselves towards our heavenly Father and our brothers and sisters, to go beyond the bare minimum, to love without counting every penny or missed secular opportunity.

We should conquer our reluctance to be ever closer to our Creator, and master our impulse to maximize our earthly pleasures at His expense.

Amen.

Monday of Week 5 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Saints Paul Miki and his Companions, Martyrs
Genesis 1:1-19 | Psalm 103(104):1-2,5-6,10,12,24,35 | Mark 6:53-56

I was quite surprised to see Genesis 1 in today’s scripture. I’d long associated it with the great feast that is the Easter Vigil, where we begin by recollecting the miracles that started it all, the wonder of Creation itself.

I see a parallel between that passage and the story of the 26 Martyrs of Japan, whose memorial we commemorate today. There is surprisingly little information about them online, but it’s clear that these were people of great faith, who went to their deaths singing the great praise hymn to God, the Te Deum.

But that great faith began from nothing, as our own faith began from nothing. For St. Paul Miki and his companions, and for all of us, we started in a formless void, not knowing, not understanding.

Then as we began our catechetical instruction, a new dawn broke in our minds, the illumination of God’s love gradually becoming clearer. “Sia la luce”, as the Italians would say – “let there be light”.

As we progressed, we began to mentally divide the divine from the mundane, just as God divided the heavens from the earth.

Our foundation in faith emerged, as we learned about the stories that Jesus told during his ministry, and the prophets that came before Him, and a thousand other details. We were now standing on firm ground, looking out at the dark waters that were our previous home, the seas of secular indifference and temptation.

And then we began to put our faith in action, going out to spread good cheer at Christmas time, helping out at hospices and orphanages, bearing the plentiful fruit of Christ’s love and mercy.

With that, we became beacons of light to others, beacons of Christ-like charity, guiding everyone to the One True God. And it was all good.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

I’d like to think that this is how St. Paul Miki and his companions developed along their journey of faith, but we will probably never know.

As for us…who are we kidding? Catechism class was boring, irrelevant to our daily lives, and ultimately a waste of time.

Which is why we hem and haw when our children ask us about matters of faith. We’re put on the spot; our kids are depending on us to guide them along the right path, and we’re not sure how to even describe it to them.

Brothers and sisters, let us therefore resolve to spend some time each day deepening our faith, in prayer and pondering and research. Let us go back to our own beginning of faith formation, the days when we knew nothing, and build ourselves up from there.

Then, perhaps, we can look at our children and say with all sincerity, “I love God with all my heart, and I hope you do too. Here’s why…”

Amen.

5th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)
Isaiah 58:7-10 | Psalm 111(112):4-9 | 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 | Matthew 5:13-16

Yesterday, I answered an online question about cooking to a recipe. I recounted my experience at a famous congee shop in Taiwan to illustrate my point about everyone’s taste buds reacting differently. While everyone else around me slurped happily at their fish congee, I took two spoonfuls from my bowl, found it over-salted for my taste, and pushed it away. (I think I caught the chef looking very shocked, but I never followed up on it.)

Today, we revisit Jesus’ familiar exhortation to be “salt of the earth” and “light for the world”. In today’s gospel, He talks about tasteless salt and hidden light, but that got me thinking: What might “too much salt and light” signify?

In my mind, I link salt and light to our words and deeds respectively, especially those related to our common faith. In the context of today’s gospel, “tasteless salt” would then relate to our failure to spread the Good News, and “hidden light” the failure to performs works of love and mercy.

In this vein, “extreme salt” would point to aggressive in-your-face evangelism, the kind often parodied as the over-enthusiastic Protestant, accosting each person in the street and yelling in their faces, “BROTHER! HAVE YOU BEEN SAVED?!?!”

Intrusive, annoying and not likely to convert anyone.

“Blinding light” in turn would refer to a sort of “posturing charity”, doing good deeds while blatantly calling attention to them, “HEY LOOK HERE, I’M HELPING PEOPLE!”

Nobody likes a searchlight beam full in the face.

Clearly, “too much” isn’t much better than “none at all”, but there’s a middle ground.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Brothers and sisters, I present to you…Salted Light.

This “product” is inspired by salted caramel, a delectable confection that takes ordinary caramelized sugar and, with a touch of salt, enhances its flavour to irresistible levels.

Similarly, with salted light, we start with the “light” of good deeds done discreetly, not calling attention to ourselves in any particular way.

But when others do notice, and compliment us for our actions, we then sprinkle on a little “salt” of evangelisation: “Thanks be to God, He’s given me so much in my life, that it’s only right that I should share it.”

I said roughly those words yesterday, after my friend watched me give an old man selling tissues double his asking price and exclaimed, “Wah, so generous!”

He was silent for a while, then rambled on about him not necessarily disbelieving in God, that he acknowledged that there was probably some supreme being responsible indirectly for our existence, that…

I can’t recall how that train of thought ended, but I think he’s now tentatively nibbling at the hook of Jesus.

Salted Light…delicious!

Saturday of Week 4 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Hebrews 13:15-17,20-21 | Psalm 22(23) | Mark 6:30-34

Obey your leaders and do as they tell you, because they must give an account of the way they look after your souls; make this a joy for them to do, and not a grief – you yourselves would be the losers. (Hebrews 13:17)

Many of us know from bitter experience what it’s like to shepherd a recalcitrant person. Perhaps it’s a stubborn child, or a loved one keeping bad company, or a lazy but cunning subordinate. We feel drained at the end of the day just dealing with them, and sigh inwardly when we remember that we’ll see them again the next day.

How much more, then, would our own shepherds be tired out by our antics? How drained must our priests feel at the end of each day, knowing that they get to wake up again the next day to more of:

• watching parishoners sneaking in just before communion, and sneaking out just after
• being asked to “tell my son how naughty he’s been, I give up already!”
• dealing with overflowing sewage from paper-clogged urinals

Yet they made a solemn promise during their ordinations to serve the very same people who take them for granted, and they will be held to account for that promise.

Fr. Peter Paul’s passing at the beginning of this week was a stark reminder that our shepherds are few, and getting scarcer by the year. As we empathize with the “silent suffering” of priesthood, let us help our shepherds look after our souls by:

• taking the celebration of the Holy Eucharist seriously
• not pestering them to do things that are truly our own responsibility
• not giving them unnecessary headaches to deal with

and, most importantly,

• asking the Lord of the Harvest to send more labourers.

Amen.