Monthly Archives: April 2017

Easter Thursday
Acts 3:11-26 | Psalm 8:2,5-9 | Luke 24:35-48

and it is the name of Jesus which, through our faith in it, has brought back the strength of this man whom you see here and who is well known to you. It is faith in that name that has restored this man to health, as you can all see. (Acts 3:16)

In the name of Jesus, we give thanks to our Creator.

In the name of Jesus, we bear witness to His boundless love.

In the name of Jesus, we perform works of mercy for our less fortunate brethren, regardless of race, language or religion.

In the name of Jesus, we live lives worthy of our calling as children of God. (Ephesians 4:1)

We do all this not by our own name, nor by our own effort. If we relied solely on our strength and will, we will inevitably stumble against the implacable foes of sin and temptation, anger and pride, sloth and greed.

But when we work our deeds of love and mercy in the name of Jesus, we receive His blessing and strength, to do what is pleasing to Him, to hold fast against those who would see us fall, and to encourage others to stand with us as a bulwark against the gathering darkness. As Psalm 115 reminds us:

Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam.
Not to us, Lord, not to us, but to Your Name be the glory.

In the name of Jesus, O Father, Thy kingdom come.

Amen.

Easter Wednesday
Acts 3:1-10 | Psalm 104(105):1-4,6-9 | Luke 24:13-35

In my mind, the theme for today is recognition, and we see two sides of this particular coin.

After Peter cured the crippled beggar, everyone at the Temple still recognized him (Acts 3:10). Perhaps they remembered the cut of his threadbare robes, or his craggy weather-lined face, or some combination of his physical attributes, but his sudden and miraculous ability to walk didn’t hinder others from going “hey, isn’t that Craig the Cripple?” His state was altered, but his appearance didn’t change.

Contrast that with the Emmaus journey in the Gospel, where something prevented Cleopas and his companion from recognizing Jesus (Luke 24:16). Might it have been His divinity shining through His resurrected body, that warped their perception of this stranger? Or was it simply that they were expecting an ordinary human, so they saw what they expected?

And if Jesus had not then spent a considerable amount of time teaching them about Himself (Luke 24:27), would they have recognized Him at the breaking of bread? (Luke 24:35)

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Each Sunday, I witness more than a handful of people waltz into church in the middle of the Liturgy of the Eucharist, receive Holy Communion shortly thereafter, then waltz out again without staying for concluding prayers.

I have no doubt that they truly received the Body of Christ, but I also have no doubt that they didn’t recognize it for what it was, and therefore derived no spiritual benefit from the plain white wafer they consumed. For all I know, they may view it as an edible talisman, a lucky charm to ward off evil from within.

I believe that the preceding Liturgy of the Word is precisely to prepare ourselves mentally and spiritually to recognize the substance of His Body, broken for us all, in the appearance of a plain white wafer. After all, transubstantiation isn’t exactly a run-of-the-mill concept to most folks.

The modern world excels in reeducating us every day about the primacy of the flesh, about “what we see” being “all there is”, and thereby promoting the philosophy of hedonism. Through that tunnel-visioned lens, Holy Communion is…just bread.

But through the Liturgy of the Word, we open up our minds and hearts to the wonders of God, for whom all things are possible. When we then participate in the Liturgy of the Eucharist, instead of observing from a mental distance…

This bread that we share is the Body of Christ,
This cup of blessing His Blood.
We become for each other the Bread, the Cup,
The presence of Christ revealed.

Amen.

Easter Tuesday
Acts 2:36-41 | Psalm 32(33):4-5,18-20,22 | John 20:11-18

They said, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ ‘They have taken my Lord away’ she replied ‘and I don’t know where they have put him.’ As she said this she turned round and saw Jesus standing there, though she did not recognise him. (John 20:13-14)

I’m reminded of some startling photos my sister posted on Facebook, taken of our parish’s Divine Mercy stained glass that was veiled during the Easter Tridiuum.

I also recalled a prank I played on my wife after Easter Sunday lunch. We were walking to Thomson Plaza with a friend, but because I had to use the facilities, I walked on ahead of them.

When I’d finished in the toilet, I discovered that they were now ahead of me. Thinking to have a little fun, I snuck up behind them and intoned:

Who are you looking for?
JESUS THE NAZARENE!

Odd that Jesus asks Mary of Magdala that same question in today’s Gospel.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

We weren’t there when Christ rose from the dead, but we have seen through the eyes of those who beheld that Easter mystery, by their accounts of what transpired during those dark days that ended gloriously.

We weren’t there when He spoke to His disciples, but we have heard His words through sacred scripture.

Our eyes have seen; our ears have heard. What now?

Mary of Magdala exclaimed: “They have taken my Lord away, and I don’t know where they have put him.”

Where have we taken Jesus, and where have we put Him?

Front and center, surfacing in our daily words and deeds?

Or hidden away in a musty closet somewhere, to be dusted off a few times a year for “private consultation” at church?

Where can we find Jesus in our lives? How often do we see but not recognize Him?

In the forlorn expression of the elderly lady I passed over at church on Easter Sunday?

In the migrant workers and local citizens who clean our surroundings each day?

In the mother and Down syndrome child on the train, whom everyone seemed to avoid for irrational reasons?

As the old hymn exhorts us:

Let our light shine for all to see
Serving both friend and enemy
Since He died for us, let us live for Him
And be His disciples eternally

Amen.

Easter Monday
Acts 2:14,22-33 | Psalm 15(16):1-2,5,7-11 | Matthew 28:8-15

And there, coming to meet them, was Jesus. ‘Greetings’ he said. (Matthew 28:9)

Christ is risen! Hallelujah!

So why am I so reluctant to share that joy with others of my own faith?

I just came to that painful realization while remembering the events of the last 24 hours, particularly how few people I greeted with “Blessed Easter!” I must’ve run into at least two hundred people across 3 separate celebrations, yet the only folks I offered felicitations to were those whom I knew personally.

Perhaps some of those “children of the same God” were somewhat off-putting, wearing what Fr. Cornelius hilariously described as “perpetual Good Friday faces”, and radiating a leave-me-alone-I’m-just-fulfilling-an-obligation aura. (One Hospitality Minister described his responsibility as “quite stressful”, and I can understand why.)

But there I was, exiting the main church after 7am mass, greeting a Communion Minister I knew, then walking right past an elderly lady, sitting forlornly in a wheelchair outside the sacristy, to greet another friend. A smile, a clasping of hands, and two simple words “Blessed Easter!” would’ve taken all of five seconds out of my life.

The memory of her lined face, looking around for someone to talk to, will haunt me for a while yet.

That was surely not a passover Jesus would’ve countenanced, and while I may not possess the all-encompassing love of Christ, and while personal interaction actually drains me, those would just be pathetic excuses.

I can do better. I must.

In the meantime…

Filled with awe and great joy the women came quickly away from the tomb and ran to tell the disciples. (Matthew 28:8)

“Greetings, dear brothers and sisters. Christ is risen! Hallelujah!”

Amen.

Easter Sunday

It was very early on the first day of the week and still dark, when Adrian of Ho came to the church to greet the rising Son, just as Mary of Magdala went to Jesus’ tomb in the early hours, to find Him gone.

There’s something magical about the pre-dawn hours, when all creation slowly wakes from their slumber. One by one, the creatures of this world arise from their sleep and go about their daily business.

Some more awake than others…

But today is not a normal day. Today, we come in hope and joy, exultant that our Lord and Saviour has broken the bonds of death, winning for us the prize of eternal life.

In the words of M.D. Ridge:

Three days our world was broken and in an instant healed,
God’s covenant of mercy in mystery revealed.
Two thousand years are one day in God’s eternal sight,
and yesterday’s sorrows are this day’s delight.
Though still Christ’s body suffers, pierced daily by the sword,
yet death has no dominion: the risen Christ is Lord!
Alleluia!