Monthly Archives: January 2019

Saturday after Epiphany Sunday
1 John 5:14-21 | Psalm 149:1-6,9 | John 3:22-30

‘The bride is only for the bridegroom; and yet the bridegroom’s friend, who stands there and listens, is glad when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. This same joy I feel, and now it is complete. He must grow greater, I must grow smaller. (John 3:29-30)

I have a long-term client for my consultancy, and I’ve been helping his development team on various projects for over a decade now, helping develop new products and figuring out how to solve particularly knotty problems. That I performed near-miracles on a regular basis probably helped his sales greatly, when his customers assumed I was his development lead.

So he was startled and rather upset a couple of years back, when I renewed my business agreement with him…and restricted my future involvement to an advisory capacity.

I then explained to him why I chose this path, and I still occasionally have to remind him when he wants me to code up a thing or two:

I’ve been helping you build your team for years; they’ve long since been able to support themselves. They don’t need a Superman swooping in to save the day; that just punctures their confidence in their own abilities.

It’s true that I can out-code and out-think most of your team, but they need a wise old Yoda more than a hotshot Luke Skywalker, pointing the way and providing reality checks instead of cutting through every problem like a lightsaber through butter.

And besides, I’ll have to move on soon enough. I don’t intend to do the same thing forever.

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I imagine something similar went through the mind of St. John the Baptist in today’s Gospel, when his disciples shared their concerns about this upstart teacher who was blessed by his baptism, but was now “stealing” his flock. He had to remind them that he was not the Christ, only tasked to pave the way for Him. Instead of being upset at having his thunder stolen by another, he was resolved to proclaim Jesus as Lord and master, even at the cost of “losing face” with his own disciples.

He also knew full well that he was not the “bridegroom” to be wed to the Church of God that is us all, but he could still take pleasure at meeting his Saviour, and witness the beginnings of His ministry on earth. The joy of completing an assigned task to the fullest is something most of us have experienced, and St. John the Baptist must’ve been doubly joyful in the knowledge that he was doing his tiny part to save all mankind…

Before his head moved on, forcibly separated from his shoulders by King Herod Antipas.

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We too can know such complete joy, by growing the name of Jesus while effacing ourselves. When our focus is on spreading the Good News, every light of truth gleaming in another’s eyes is another spark of satisfaction in ours, every heart turned to Christ beats in harmony with our own.

So let’s keep cracking on, for Jesus awaits everyone. As St. John the Baptist might have sung, were he musically inclined:

Here is your God, coming with your vindication.
Look and behold the saving power of God!

Amen.

Friday after Epiphany Sunday
1 John 5:5-13 | Psalm 147:12-15,19-20 | Luke 5:12-16

His reputation continued to grow, and large crowds would gather to hear him and to have their sickness cured, but he would always go off to some place where he could be alone and pray. (Luke 5:15-16)

As I type this, there’s a group of young folks sitting in a pavilion under my study window, noisily chatting and occasionally laughing uproariously, in the dead of night. This happens quite often around my area, and while it can get annoying at times, I’ve learned to tune it out as I contemplate the next day’s scripture and write this blog.

It’s these moments that I’ve come to treasure again, the silent contemplation of the Word of God, detached from the noise of the secular world, from all its distractions and temptations.

Buy it does require an act of will to begin the process each night, to tell myself “OK, enough of the world, time to focus on the Divine”. Much like Jesus, I need to consciously withdraw to a place of mental silence, where Truth can voice its quiet thoughts.

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So it is too with the Sacrament of Reconciliation, dreaded by many who fear the memory of sins committed and omitted, and the guilt that floods our hearts in the silence on holy ground.

Yet it can instead be a time of renewal, to acknowledge that we are flawed but still loved by our Creator, to recount the times we’ve stumbled in order to take stock and ponder how best to stop falling over the same obstacles in future.

So let us embrace the need for holy silence in our lives, far from the madding crowd of noisy hedonism and seductive bedlam. Let us use that quiet time to draw closer to God, to reflect on our sins and resolve to do better.

And in that silence, may we make peace with ourselves, that we may better love the One who loves us beyond all telling.

Amen.

Thursday after Epiphany Sunday
1 John 4:19-5:4 | Psalm 71(72):1-2,14-15,17 | Luke 4:14-22

Anyone who says, ‘I love God’, and hates his brother, is a liar, since a man who does not love the brother that he can see cannot love God, whom he has never seen. (1 John 4:20)

I learned a new word yesterday: epicaricacy, synonymous with the slightly more familiar German word Schadenfreude. Both mean “taking joy in the misfortune of others”, something that all of us have done at one time or another, and which I briefly mentioned in yesterday’s entry.

It’s easy to feel secret pleasure at someone else’s comeuppance, particularly to someone we dislike. It’s a bitter pill to swallow when a better person points out this particularly un-Christian trait in us, and we usually take umbrage. “Who are you to criticize me? You’re a sinner too, OK?!?!”

Yet epicaricacy is an insidious evil, precisely because it seems so right. All those people zipping around at terrifying speeds on e-scooters are “accidents waiting to happen”, so when we see one being stopped by a couple of enforcement officers, it matters not why the stop occurred. All that goes through our minds is “very good, he deserves it, throw the bloody a**hole in jail!”

Not a very loving attitude towards a brother we can see, is it? Especially not towards the folks rushing to deliver orders to customers before their burgers cool into soggy messes, making minimum wage in the process.

Remember the phrase “hate the sin, love the sinner” from our younger days? We may detest the things that some folks do, but unless we know they’re intrinsically evil beings, why treat them like spawn of Satan?

So the next time we see someone being questioned by lawful authority, let’s pray that their encounter will cause them to adjust whatever unpleasant behaviour we believe they indulge in, and quietly throw a little love their way.

Rather than a mental “FU” bomb.

Lord, it’s so easy to sit in judgement of others, and so hard to remember that You alone are the true Judge. Help us judge less and love more. Amen.

Wednesday after Epiphany Sunday
1 John 4:11-18 | Psalm 71(72):1-2,10-13 | Mark 6:45-52

In love there can be no fear,
but fear is driven out by perfect love:
because to fear is to expect punishment,
and anyone who is afraid is still imperfect in love. (1 John 4:18)

As I walked back home yesterday, I happened upon a pair of enforcement officers talking to a young lady in Uber Eats livery, standing next to her e-scooter. Most folks have probably cursed such riders in their hearts as they speed by at an alarming pace, so this particular grouping drew more than a few stares from passing pedestrians…and maybe one or two muttered “good, she deserves it!”

I then noticed another e-scooter rider approaching rapidly, but as he noticed the trio, he quickly slowed down and got off his vehicle, choosing to walk past them all instead of risking a stern conversation.

I thought I saw a quick grin flash across the face of the female enforcement officer at the retreating youngster, though I might have been mistaken.

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It’s safe to say that we live in fear: of being caught in immorality, of being judged unworthy, of being ostracized for doing something that no one else is doing…especially if what you’re doing is The Right Thing by some standard.

I see it for myself every time I stop at a “red man” and wait for the crossing signal to turn in my favour…even when there’s no traffic to impede my progress. Inevitably, others will stop and wait behind me as well, until one impatient soul barges past us all and crosses against the light. A beat later, someone else musters enough courage to do the same, and soon a whole bunch of people follow suit.

Unless I stand my ground, in which case there are almost always one or two folks who still hang back, unsure of how to proceed. Their relief when they see both the “green man” come up and me finally crossing the road is almost palpable.

Then, sometimes, I’m the one who barges out into the empty street, dragging the wavering souls behind me.

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St. John reminds us today that “in love there is no fear” and “fear is exorcised by perfect love”. The two are in fact radically opposed: fear is inherently selfish, an inward focus on one’s reputation and communal standing, while love is generous, desiring the good of others above ourselves.

So when we tell ourselves that we don’t know enough to share our faith, that’s crippling FEAR at heart, stopping us from doing what we know we’ve been called to do.

And when we say to ourselves “my friend is lost, and I ought to show him the Way”, that doesn’t guarantee success. We may still make mistakes in the finer details, like when a friend proclaimed that “we mourn Jesus’ passing on Good Friday”.

But when we proceed with the Spirit of LOVE, those occasional mistakes should not impede the general thrust of our message, and our striving to raise others up becomes in turn our compelling witness to God’s love and grace.

For the One who gave up everything, especially His life, brooks no fear and deserves no less from us. He has the power to calm the storms in our lives, and give us the words and actions to spread His Truth to others who haven’t yet heard.

All He asks is that we step up and say, “You called me, Lord, so here I am. Enable me.”

Amen.

Tuesday after Epiphany Sunday
1 John 4:7-10 | Psalm 71(72):1-4,7-8 | Mark 6:34-44

By now it was getting very late, and his disciples came up to him and said, ‘This is a lonely place and it is getting very late. So send them away, and they can go to the farms and villages round about, to buy themselves something to eat.’ He replied, ‘Give them something to eat yourselves.’ They answered, ‘Are we to go and spend two hundred denarii on bread for them to eat?’ ‘How many loaves have you?’ he asked. ‘Go and see.’ (Mark 6:35-38)

“I’m not a professional counselor. What do you expect me to say to that troubled kid?”

“I’m not a trained paramedic, so how do you expect me to help that accident victim?”

As it was with Jesus’ disciples, so it all too often is with us. We don’t have the proper skills and resources to Do The Right Thing, so why bother?

Yet when it’s our child who’s going through a rough patch, or our loved ones bleeding out on a cold pavement, we move heaven and earth to do something, don’t we? Somehow, we muster the compassion to do everything in our power to ease their suffering, and we somehow stem the heartbreak and the bleeding despite our woeful lack of training.

It’s as if God somehow made it all possible, once we summoned the determination to act. As St. Paul reminds us:

It is God, for his own loving purpose, who puts both the will and the action into you. (Philippians 2:13)

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The disciples were probably as weary and hungry as the five thousand men and their families. We can rationalize, from a human point of view, their attitude of “look, master, this is an impossible task for us, let them take care of themselves”.

But Jesus immediately challenges them: “Give them something to eat yourselves. This is what I called you for, so get on with it!”

And He reminds them to search within themselves for the resources to begin the work: “How many loaves have you? You mean you haven’t even bothered to check? Go and see, then start the ball rolling. I’ll be right there beside you, multiplying your meager beginnings into something wonderful indeed.”

So, brothers and sisters, the next time you hear that quiet voice within you:

I’m not a catechist or a lector, so how do you expect me to share God with others?

quash it mercilessly, as you would any unworthy thought of your own inability to “love thy neighbour”.

Then take a hard look at yourself, and ponder with all sincerity what gifts God has given you, no matter how pitiful you think they are. Somewhere in the depths of that nearly-empty basket of yours…is a little candle that, with proper application of a little Holy Spirit, will erupt into a bonfire of love.

GO AND SEE, THEN GET ON WITH IT!

The Lord is waiting. Tarry no longer.

Amen.