Spiritus Sanctus

Easter Saturday
Acts 4:13-21 | Psalm 117(118):1,14-21 | Mark 16:9-15

It is obvious to everybody in Jerusalem that a miracle has been worked through them in public, and we cannot deny it. But to stop the whole thing spreading any further among the people, let us caution them never to speak to anyone in this name again. (Acts 4:16-17)

Two days ago, I was riding the train to my client’s office, quietly praying the Divine Mercy chaplet, when I heard some words I’d never expected to encounter on public transport.

Church. Resurrection. Jesus.

The speaker was a young Filipino, going by his accent, chatting with a group of like-minded folks just a few meters away. He certainly sounded enthusiastic, if a tad loud.

I smiled briefly, and continued my prayer.

At the next stop, a burly Malay man boarded, and stood between me and the group. As the Christian group chatted on, I noticed him turning several times to stare at them.

His face was a thundercloud, and for a moment, I feared that there would be a public incident.

Then the train doors opened once more and he exited, still looking like he wanted to chew someone’s head off.

I briefly wondered if I would’ve been the target of his ire, had I finished the chaplet sooner…and made the sign of the cross right in front of him.

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We take religious tolerance for granted in Singapore, often forgetting that it’s individual people who would ultimately practice that tolerance, or not.

Yet we are commanded by Jesus to, like Peter and the disciples, “go out to the whole world; proclaim the Good News to all creation.” (Mark 16:15)

How do we proselytise without causing a ruckus?

I don’t have a perfect answer, but I try to let my deeds do the talking. Helping people with little things, like giving up my seat to an elderly person, or helping them with heavy trolleys, or just clearing my own lunch table rather than attracting the beleaguered cleaner’s attention with imperious gestures and impatient words.

I generally wear polo T-shirts, and normally don’t button the V-neck due to the local climate. Ever so often, as I bend over to do my bit for others, my neck chain slips out, and my crucifix swings free for anyone to see.

It’s yet to attract any attention or start a conversation, but my focus is really on helping others. As and when that “so you believe in God then?” window opens, I’ll start chatting about Him. Otherwise, it’s a privilege to help lighten someone else’s load, and receive a smile in return.

Brothers and sisters, how do you share the Good News with others? I’d really like to learn from you.

Amen.

Easter Friday
Acts 4:1-12 | Psalm 117(118):1-2,4,22-27 | John 21:1-14

Jesus called out, ‘Have you caught anything, friends?’ And when they answered, ‘No’, he said, ‘Throw the net out to starboard and you’ll find something.’ So they dropped the net, and there were so many fish that they could not haul it in. (John 21:5-6)

I was curious enough to look up the etymology (origins and history) of the word “starboard”. I’m glad I did, because it made me realize the rich symbolism of this passage.

Starboard comes from the Old English steorbord, literally “the side on which the ship is steered”. Since most people are right-handed, the steering oar is mounted on the right side of older ships. To avoid trapping the oar against a jetty or wharf, ships would be tied to their docks on their left side, which naturally came to be called port.

So how does all that relate to today’s scripture?

Most people spend their lives clinging to the familiar, metaphorically tied to port, bobbing gently in secular comfort. In doing so, we have actually left God and our fellow brethren out in the deep ocean, especially those who long for a kind word or a helping hand.

Jesus instead asks us to cast our nets out into the unknown, to evangelize to those who do not know Him, to help those in need, to be beacons of hope in the dark and turbulent waters of modern life. He asks us to go forth, secure in the knowledge that He is the oarsman of our lives, steering us in the way of righteousness. With Him at the helm, we need not fear.

We may not be as mindlessly excited as Peter, to leap naked into the sea at the name of the Lord.

We may also not be so “productive” as to fill our “conversion nets” to bursting.

But we have been filled with His radiant love, and He asks us to share with others.

Christ is risen! Let us go forth, bringing the Good News to the world!

Amen.

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)

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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.

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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.