A Year of Diakonia

Thursday in the 2nd Week of Easter
Acts 5:27-33; Ps 34; John 3:31-36

Recalling the one year of service as a Deacon (the root word of which is diakonia or service), I find myself ever more grateful for the Lord who called me to this state of life. Today’s readings focus on obedience – where Peter reminds us that “‘Obedience to God comes before obedience to men,” with John the baptist following up by telling us that our obedience and belief in God will lead us to eternal life. Obedience is often seen in concert with an exercise of will – an intellectual assent to God and choosing to act based on this assent.

This narrative of obedience seems to place a measure of control upon us – we choose to obey God (or sometimes not). While that’s true to an extent, it’s also true that our ability to obey doesn’t come from intellectual sources but from our experience of God’s goodness. Peter spoke of us being “witnesses” to the action of the Holy Spirit, just as Jesus is described to have been witness to what he had seen and heard. We obey because we’ve felt God’s graces, seen and heard witness from each other, and as the psalmist wrote, tasted and seen the goodness of God. It’s not our initiative but God’s, who laid out the wonders for us to savour. And our response is to obey this call to serve because that’s the only possible response from our hearts to the goodness that we receive.

Allow me some measure of self-indulgence as I share a little reflection of the ordination experience that I shared with the Jesuits of our Malaysia-Singapore Region last year.

Lying prostrate on the floor of the Church of the Gesù with choruses of ‘Prega per noi’ (Pray for us) washing over us was one of the most unforgettable moments of my life. Knowing that hundreds of people directly behind us were praying and invoking the intercession of all the saints brought much consolation and confidence that we might be able to live up to the lofty promises just made, because there were indeed many praying with and for us. That is how I’d like to remember the Litany of the Saints during the ordination but the reality is that there were many times during the prayer where the reality of the cold marble floor intruded into my consciousness and all I could think about during those times was how cold the floor was and how we should have opted for carpets to be placed in that area. Somewhat absurd as this juxtaposition might seem, I found it an apt description to my own personal reaction to the ordination and how the divine and the mundane seem to come together in my own all-too-human efforts at responding to God.

In the days leading up to 23 April 2019, I grew more and more aware of the number of people praying for the 12 of us who were to be ordained and this made me even more conscious of both the need for and the efficaciousness of the prayers of others. Not only was this palpable during the vigil prayers and ordination mass proper, there was a lingering sense of consolation that, to me at least, felt like it could have come from no other place than the prayers of others. It was humbling to actually feel how many were lending their spiritual support to us and to recognise how reliant we are on the prayers of others. I knew about the efficacy of such prayers before but never felt them as strongly as I did before – perhaps it was just the grace of the period of preparation that allowed this insight but perhaps it was the Lord nudging me away my normal state of mundane self-reliance to an acknowledgement of my being in the larger Christian community and how that helps sustain our vocation. The fuller (juridical) integration into the life of the Church that comes with the ordination thus also brought me to a fuller spiritual integration into the community. For that, I’m grateful.

During the reception after the ordination, amidst the munching on the tasty Mediterranean snacks, several friends very solicitously but with great curiosity came up to me and asked, ‘So we saw you wiping your eyes during the mass…what happened?’ The response was one that surprised me too – and leads to a slightly longer story that reminds me how God constantly surprises us, despite ourselves. During the rehearsal, Fr Massimo Marelli, the liturgist of the EUM (European- Mediterranean, formerly Italian) Province remarked that the Litany of the Saints is one of the most moving moments of the liturgy that is the frequent source of tears of many an ordinandi. Remembering this, I had a handkerchief at the ready while I was prostrate on the cold marble floor but moved as I was, the waterworks were off at that moment. On hindsight, I realise that that was probably due to something overly anticipated and my own propensity towards overthinking. But surprises were in store. Almost immediately after being vested by Fr Chris Soh and upon turning around to face the altar, the tap turned on and out came the hitherto unused handkerchief. I’ve no explanation for the tears – was it the extremely moving hymn that was sung at the time; the symbolic weight of the dalmatic that I was vested with; the turning to face the altar that I would soon be serving at…the list goes on. That moment was probably the most moving part of the liturgy for me as I felt, in a very real and very significant way, the consoling action of God in my life and how this was and has always been part of the journey in the Society for all these years.

Divine Mercy Sunday: Yearning and Hope

Divine Mercy Sunday (2^nd Sunday of Easter) 19 April 2020
Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 118; 1 Pet 1:3-9; Jn 20:19-31

Thomas the apostle has been unjustly treated, at least in my opinion. He’s often referred to as “Doubting Thomas,” a label that came from today’s gospel reading. How can we define and identify him for one act which I feel isn’t really full-on doubt in the first place. How would we like it if we were identified by our hobbies, philosophies, clothing choices etc. (e.g. Climber Victor, Liberal Martha etc.) That reveals only one facet of the person. Furthermore, if we had a modern more secular relook at Thomas’s actions, he’d be lauded for his intellectually rigorous empirical approach. They’d call him “Empirical Thomas”, one who seeks the truth though evidence and proof.

I don’t think “Empirical Thomas” will stick as a nickname but I do want to challenge the “doubting” label. I think it took a good amount of courage to say what he said, to challenge his fellow disciples to go deeper into their own assent to the faith. In many ways, his asking to see the wounds of Christ express a very deep sense of hope in the Lord. We hear hope being referred to quite a bit these days – Queen Elizabeth mentioned it recently and Pope Francis has been using it quite frequently in his homilies and addresses. But what does hope really mean to us?

For Thomas, I feel that hope meant having the courage to want something to happen even in the face of its apparent impossibility and improbability. I don’t think that he was petulantly asking for proof of the wounds because he missed out on seeing them in the first place but rather, it was his way of expressing his hope that it, the resurrection, actually happened. I prefer to see his statements as stemming from his yearning to see the Lord and him not having the words to express this yearning. So it came out wrong in his asking for physical proof, but the desire and the hope is clear – for the salvation that comes with the resurrection. There’s faith in there already so, let’s go easy on Thomas and on ourselves too.

And this is all of us. I’ve used this line from Pope Francis’s Urbi et Orbi prayer on 27 March quite a bit but I’ll do it again because it’s so apt now. He told us that “the beginning of faith is the recognition of our need for salvation.” Thomas’s need for salvation was expressed in his hope to see the wounds of the Lord, to meet the risen Lord face to face. He wanted to see and touch the Lord – and I believe it was from there that he could truly feel the salvation that the Lord brings. It just so happened that incredulity came in how it was expressed. We all have different ways of expressing this need for salvation – and we heard it during the week as we saw how the senses of seeing and touch were important, how people sought salvation through communion, and even through revolutionary or missionary actions.

Creation of Adam detail by Domenico Condello (Links)

The salvation that we receive from the Lord comes not just in the soteriological sense – we’re saved from sin and death but that’s the big picture. On the more micro level, we experience salvation in a much more personal sense – in how the Lord comes to save individuals in our exact needs. We need to dare to, as the litany of the Divine Mercy from St Faustina says, allow an inspiration of hope against all hope, to know that we will receive salvation in ways that are unique to us even though it seems improbable.

It’s this hope of salvation that we see in the first reading with how the early Christians devoted themselves to meeting, breaking bread and praising God. Thinking about how this must have happened under persecution makes the salvation even more important, that much more precious. Of how, this faith is tested in fire (2^nd reading) so that we can reach the ultimate goal – our salvation.

With this hope there is also fulfilment – not from our own steam but from the Lord who comes to us where we are. We see how this happened with Thomas, whose hopes and yearning was fulfilled when the Lord came to him. His response of faith, “My Lord and my God,” is very moving because when we come face to face with the author of our personal sense of salvation, there’s no other response but to acknowledge God as God. It’s also emotional as I feel in those five words the whole outpouring of his yearning being fulfilled, and the related feeling of intense gratitude of how Jesus came to him where he needed him most. Thomas’s empirical expression is important – to dare to yearn and hope for salvation in the way we need it. And knowing that the Lord comes in exactly the way we need him to, no matter how others might think it. That’s comforting, and perhaps that’s the comfort we need now. And all we need to do is ask and hope.

And so leave us with two questions. What are we in need of salvation? What are we asking of the Lord today?

Easter Sunday: Movement of Joy

Easter Sunday (12 April 2020)
John 20:1-9

I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of being with children who have happy news to share with everyone in the family (or even remember being in such a situation ourselves!). Very often, they’re veritably bursting with anticipation to tell this news to everyone and this excitement is very visible and palpable. And when they’re given the chance, the news is shared with such joy and energy that it’s impossible not to feel the same joy that they do. I feel that this best describes how someone’s first brush with the resurrected Christ would be like. There may be a brief moment of uncertainty but that would soon be replaced with a joy that’s so great that it begins to animate our entire being. And that’s what we, the Easter people, are called to be – so infused with Easter joy that we can’t help but radiate that to others.

Resurrection by Cecco del Caravaggio

Today’s gospel passage is filled with movement and action. We notice that as soon as Mary Magdalene saw the stone that was at the entrance of the tomb had been rolled away, a non-stop and almost breathless sequence of events occurred. We see how she ran to tell the disciples who also ran to the tomb, an urgency probably born more out of worry about people stealing Jesus’s body than thoughts about the resurrection. Stepping into the tomb, they both “saw and believed.” I remember both Scripture and language teachers telling us that in order to understand texts, we should look to the verbs first because they set the context of the action, of what’s happening. Everything else gets filled in later. In this account of the resurrection, we feel the breathless excitement of the disciples encountering something that’s beyond their understanding but which ignites their faith in Christ.

I was also struck by the physical absence of Jesus in this scene – it’s almost as if he wanted to leave the disciples to figure things out on their own before actually showing himself to them. His presence in the scene was undisputable but he was not physically there. While he could have been there, waiting in the tomb to tell Mary Magdalen, Peter, and John to go spread this news to others, he chose to step aside and let the evidence do this work. The educator in me was thrilled to see this as I’m of the firm conviction that allowing people to experience something allows them to learn so much better than just telling them. Jesus decided that the disciples had to experience what the resurrection meant, and to call upon all that he taught them before to make sense of this new situation.

And make sense they did. The movement that was so apparent in this gospel scene shows us the quality of joy that emerges as we acknowledge the resurrection. It’s a joy that’s very dynamic, that doesn’t allow us to sit still with it. Like a child bursting with excitement to share news with others, the disciples were also bursting with joy and had to go tell others about this great news. And I believe that’s our call this Easter – to go out with this joy, sharing it with all who will listen. This might be a little more complicated given our current situation where social distance and staying home are integral parts of our existence as responsible people, there are many opportunities to do this, online, on the phone, and through other means. It could be as simple as leaving a little chocolate Easter egg at the door of our neighbour or calling a friend we rarely talk with greetings. The point is to share this joy, in whatever way we can, allowing others to experience the same excitement that the disciples felt that first Easter morning.

Prayer for today

• Pray with John 20:1-9. Read the passage at least twice, slowly and prayerfully.
• Ask for the grace that we need: To feel the joy and exultation that comes with the resurrection of the Lord, who having conquered death, returns to show the depth of his love.
• Set the scene for the first Easter morning: imagine being in the dark, walking to the tomb. Remember the grief that one brings, having experienced and been with the Lord to Calvary and seen his death on the cross. Then, with the dim dawn light, we see the tomb, with the stone no longer covering the entrance.
• We see the confusion of Mary Magdalene, Peter, and John. We feel the growing hope as they peer into the empty tomb. We see the growing looks of comprehension, of belief and the spark of joy that comes with the resurrection. We consider how we feel seeing all this. What does this make me want to do?
• We stay at the empty tomb for as long as we need to. Praying, seeking, believing. Then we turn around and meet the Lord. Do we recognise him immediately or is there a brief moment of doubt (c.f. John 20:11-18)?
• We engage the risen Lord in conversation, pouring out our thoughts and feelings to him who comes to console and accompany us. I speak speaking with him heart to heart, as a friend would with another friend. I listen to what he has to say to me.
• End with the Lord’s Prayer.

The Regina Coeli is a traditional Marian hymn sung during Eastertide.

Holy Saturday: Silence and Separation

Holy Saturday (11 April 2020)
From an ancient homily for Holy Saturday

Today, we make a slight change and pray with what has to be one of my favourite readings from the Liturgy of the Hours or the Divine Office. This reading, an ancient homily written by an unknown preacher that’s placed as the 2^nd reading for the Office of Readings, captures the spirit of Holy Saturday in ways I can’t fully describe. Its haunting beauty reminds us that Christ has descended to the dead and because of that, we feel this silence, this strange sense of emptiness after the intensity of the liturgies of the past days. But this silence doesn’t mean that nothing is being done. Christ too his cross, the instrument of our salvation, and journeyed to hell so that he could liberate those trapped there in death. The conversation between Christ and Adam is so moving because it’s also addressed to us, “I order you, O sleeper, to awake.”

For many of us these days, we’ve noticed an unnatural silence in the cities where we live. Roads are strangely clear, playgrounds are empty, and the only sounds we may hear could be commotion along supermarket aisles. This is something we’re not used to – some may like the silence but others may be discomfited by the eerie lack of life that is the reality of our cities now, emptied of the normal pedestrians and traffic. Perhaps that’s something that we can pray with, bringing the concrete reality of our discomfort and silence to bear on the reality of Christ also remains silent this day, body in the tomb but still continuing in the salvation of the world.

In the silence we can also reflect on what separation is doing to us. Many of us are called to observe social distance (the most overused word of the past month) and this enforced separation can take its toll on many of us. We don’t realise how much the little contact with have with each other means to us until we’re forced to stop that for the sake of everyone around. This separation can cause us pain and anxiety, and the silence that often comes with this separation can make it worse. What can we do?

I would say we need to look to the cross, embracing as I mentioned yesterday. I don’t want to over-spiritualise this sense of separation but there’s definitely a spiritual element there. Our separation from God through sin was removed by the death and resurrection of Christ on the cross. We could see the separation that we feel now as part of that very cross that Christ carried up to Calvary, that we’re not bearing that burden on our own but that it’s being borne by our Saviour. Embracing him and the cross during these days can help us recognise that the world continues to be created and protected by God’s love, so we do not lose hope by focusing only on that which separates. The Holy Week story did not end with death but with new life. That’s where our hope comes from and we know that we’re part of a larger story that also ends not with death but with new life.

So we enter into this silence, this separation, with a cautious hope, knowing that Easter is just around the corner. It’s not going be what Easter normally feels like externally but if we dig a little deeper, we can get in touch with the Lord who brings us the joy that the world cannot bring, to feel the hope that the resurrection brings to all of us. And we wait, with this hope for the Lord to extend his hand to us saying, “Arise, O Sleeper, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.”

Prayer for today

• Our prayer for today will take a slightly different form. Read the ancient homily once or twice, taking note of the points which were particularly moving.
• Then sit in silence for a while. Savour the silence and moments of solitude that the prayer brings. Feel how the Lord is present but is also silent with us, enjoying our presence as we’re enjoying his.
• I pray with this silence and presence for as long as I feel comfortable. I don’t speak if I don’t feel the need to; I speak when I feel like I would like to have the same familiar conversations that I’ve been having with the Lord this past week.
• End with the Lord’s Prayer.

From an ancient homily on Holy SaturdayDownload

A little more…
I’m not a poet by any stretch but thought I’d share the fruits of prayer and reflection from Good Friday this year.

Watch, look. The gloom.
Nothing to be seen.
Dark calls from the depth,
we look, struggling,
not overwhelmed.

Hark, listen. Silence.
Nothing stirs, sound breaks not.
Silence calls form the depth,
we hear, not hearing,
grieve. Emptiness here.

But I await. I know.
After the storm, clouds part;
beyond the night, dawn.
Because hope remains,
the stone gets rolled away.

Good Friday, 10 April 2020

Good Friday: Ecce Homo

Good Friday (10 April 2020)
John 18:1-19:42

There’s a particularly poignant moment in the Passion narrative in the Gospel of John when the scourged and bloodied Jesus is brought out to the angry crowd by Pontius Pilate. That was when he said the famous Ecce homo or “behold the man,” showing the man who was Jesus to the rabble who were braying for his blood. The irony would not have been obvious to those at the time and may not even be so for us now but when Pilate was pointing to the person Jesus, thinking that he’s showing a pitiable slightly crazed preacher to the powerful Jews when in actual fact, he was actually pointing to God. St Ignatius, in the Spiritual Exercises, wrote of how during Christ’s passion, his divinity was completely hidden and one can only see the frailty and apparent weakness of his humanity.

Caravaggio’s Ecce Homo

Ecce homo, behold the man who is there before us. This simple act of pointing to the Son of Man who was crowned with thorns and stood bloodied and bare was a stark reminder of what the incarnation actually means. Not too long ago, I wrote about the “fleshiness” of Jesus’s incarnation and in that, I alluded to our apprehension of the incarnation in much more pleasant terms – beholding the child Jesus, a cute baby who attracts and draws us close. The reminder of how flesh can bleed as we behold the adult Jesus means that when we approach the incarnated Jesus, we have to approach him in his totality and embrace the reality that he shared in our humanity and that our humanity is one that bleeds and where there are people who would cause us to bleed.

This realisation is, of course, discomfiting. It’s also a stark contrast to the first time someone points to Jesus and says “Behold!” John the Baptist saw Jesus and pointed him out to his disciples saying, “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29) What a contrast – from Lamb of God who has the power to save to a mere man, and a badly injured and humiliated one at that. We see the multiple layers of descent that God made – from being God to becoming man, and not just an ordinary man but one who became lowly and from there, took on the ultimate humiliation to die on the cross. We hear this in Philippians 2:5-11 and it’s on display during the Passion narrative. It’s always good to pause to consider how we feel when we’re faced with God who did all that out of love.

We were reminded by Pope Francis during his Urbi et Orbi (To the City and to the World) exhortation and prayer on 27 March that we need to turn to Jesus and embrace the cross. We’re called not just to turn to the cute baby Jesus we see at Christmas, or to the powerful healer and great preacher whom we know through the rest of the gospels, but to turn to Jesus on the cross. And we’re called to embrace the cross in all its messiness, with the blood and gore, pain and sorrow – all of it. It’s consoling to know how the Lord, who experienced the entire breadth of humanity with us, feels and empathises with us in our current times of struggles. Our embracing of the cross is our embracing of the Lord who, according to the 1^st Eucharistic Prayer for Reconciliation, had his arms “outstretched between heaven and earth,” ready to embrace us wherever we are, whenever we’re ready to accept this loving embrace.

Prayer for today

• Pray with John 18:1-19:42. If this feels too long, then John 19:1-42 can be an alternative Read the passage at least twice, slowly and prayerfully.
• Ask for the grace that we need: To have a deep interior knowledge and experience of the Lord, who suffered and died for us, and to be able to embrace him on the cross at Calvary.
• Follow Jesus on the road to Calvary, as we imagine ourselves as someone in the crowd on that day in Jerusalem. What do we hear the crowds shout? What do we see and feel along the way? What is my reaction when I see the exhausted and horribly wounded Jesus carrying the cross on the dusty road?
• Try to stay with Jesus at the foot of the cross. It’s not easy and the chaos and confusion can easily become distractions as we try to be with Jesus. What about me wants to stay with the Lord? What about me wants to flee?
• I speak with Jesus on the cross, speaking little because words go only that far, but feeling with the Lord on the cross. I ask myself – What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What ought I do for Christ? (Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius, 53)
• End with the Lord’s Prayer.

Alternative or additional prayers
Some alternatives or additional prayers that may help you to deepen the experience of Good Friday. I know this is quite a bit but the crucifixion and death of Jesus can be very difficult to pray with. Options can help because we all have our preferences and approach the Lord very differently.

• Pray the Way of the Cross. I like this version very much.
• Pray the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary, slowly and meditatively.
• Pray with the Last Seven Words of Christ. I include a downloadable meditation that I prepared for a retreat I gave some years back.

The Last Seven Words from the CrossDownload

Maundy Thursday: Love and Service

Maundy Thursday (9 April 2020)
John 13:1-15

Quick note: there’s both a video and a reflection today. The video is a guided contemplation for the gospel reading on the washing of the feet in the Gospel of John. The reflection contains the points that I had for the homily that I would have preached at the Maundy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper. Do use the video, reflection and prayer points as they help you to enter more fully into the experience of the Triduum.

I often contemplate and stay with the reactions of St Peter because he’s probably the most relatable of all the disciples. He’s the one with the big heart (and sometimes big mouth too!) who yearns to do big things. He’s got faith but he’s also very human, often unable to put into action what he says. And that’s often our experience of faith as well – we want to do many things to express our faith in the Lord and make plans to do so but life and our own personal realities sometimes get in the way of this. That’s not to say that we don’t try but being with Peter in his journey with the Lord can give us comfort that even one of the greatest of the apostles was also flawed, just like us.

Peter’s reaction to Jesus wanting to wash his feet presents an interesting paradox of sorts, especially us as Christians committed to following the Lord. We’re told so many times to “love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34), that faith without works is dead (James 2:17); and these become guiding principles for us to want to do good to others. There’s a song that we sing quite a bit that has the title In omnibus amare et servire (in all things love and serve), reminding us that we’re called to love and serve the Lord and others all the time.

But Jesus approached Peter and asked to serve him. Jesus, the Messiah and Son of God, wanting to wash the smelly, dirty feet of a fisherman. Peter, recognising the incongruity of the scene refused. But Jesus, with great grace and gentleness insisted, essentially telling Peter that he would have no part in Jesus and his mission if he could not accept this simple act of kindness. I feel this points to two important things that we need to be aware of in seeking to love and serve the Lord and others in all things.

The first is that it’s hard to be a good helper if we’re unable to be helped ourselves. We’re not superhuman and cannot expect to do everything. There’s a wisdom in realising that we need help and a humility that’s necessary to accept it. Being humble and accepting the help of others can make us better ministers and helpers, more able to be the love that we are called to be to others. The second point has to do with empathy and reciprocity. It’s sometimes difficult to receive help because it seems to shift the power to the giver, making the latter the more powerful and more able person. If we’re always on the giving and serving end, we can unintentionally aggregate this sense of power and ability as others become more reliant on us. Shifting this and allowing ourselves to be at the receiving end of help and service can give us an insight into what being helped can feel like so that we can learn to serve better, with true humility as Jesus did.

That’s not to say that we should just sit back and wait for people to wash our feet. I believe that there’s a balance to our lives of wanting love as Jesus loves us. We are loved and we love. Our expression of our love for others is often found in how we serve them but at the same time, these others also seek to express the same love by serving us. Give and receive, serve and be served. This takes a new complexion in these times where many of us live in close proximity with our family, friends, and in some cases, our religious communities. There’s a delicate balance that has to be made between helping and being helped – and we sometimes have to resist the urge to help too much because others too have the need to do things, to express their care for us and for others. And so we live, as Peters always in need of instruction and love, allowing ourselves to be served so that we can love and serve that much better in the future.

Prayer for today

• Pray with John 13:1-15. Read the passage at least twice, slowly and prayerfully.
• Ask for the grace that we need: To have a deep interior knowledge and experience of the Lord, who suffered and died for us, and to be able to stay with him through his journey to Calvary.
• Three options for the prayer today. The first is to follow the guided contemplation video given above. Use that as it helps, pausing or stopping it where one is called to go in prayer.
• The other option would be to contemplate the gospel passage from Peter’s point of view. What if I were Peter – what were my thoughts as I speak with the Lord about washing or not washing my feet? How did I accept the Lord’s washing my feet and what did that mean to me?
• The third option is to do a slow Lectio Divina of the text, pausing and meditating with the words, phrases and images that draw me deeper into communion with Jesus.
• I end with the conversation with the Lord, speaking with him heart to heart, as a friend would with another friend. I listen to what he has to say to me.
• End with the Lord’s Prayer.

Just thought I’d attach one of my favourite Maundy Thursday songs, As I have done for you by Dan Schutte. It’s based on today’s gospel text and is beautifully meditative.

Holy Week Wednesday: The Journey

Holy Week Wednesday (8 April 2020)
Isaiah 55:1-11

 “Seek the Lord while he may be found, call him while he is near.” The verse from Isaiah (55:6) presents a sent of instructions that prompt us to action. There’s a call to seek the Lord, to actively move out to look for where the Lord might be and at the same time, calling on the Lord so that he can hear us. There’s much movement described by Isaiah and in many ways, it reminds me of being on pilgrimage. And perhaps that’s a good image to have of Holy Week as a whole. As we approach the middle of Holy Week, it’s good to consider how it’s not just a time but a process, a journey that we make with the Lord towards Calvary and also deep into our very selves. This journey is one of seeking – seeking the Lord so that we can be with him more closely and love him more dearly, hoping always that we have the courage to stay with him even in the darkest moments.

Let’s consider three points about Holy Week as a pilgrimage. Firstly, pilgrimages are not empty journeys for their own sake but have specific destinations. Pilgrims walk and pray while keeping their eyes fixed on a goal. Our goal for our Holy Week pilgrimage is the celebration of the triduum – to experience the depths of despair with Jesus on the cross but also to look towards the joy of Easter and the resurrection. The start of Isaiah 55 shows this hopefulness where we are called to “come to the water” because we are thirsty. There’s movement throughout this reading, a dynamism that is inherent in Holy Week as a whole which allows us to examine our own spiritual lives. We look at what we thirst for in this journey, what is it that I’m truly seeking as I make this sometimes difficult journey towards the Lord at Calvary. What are the hopes that I have as I walk this way with the Lord?

The second point comes from my own personal experience being on pilgrimage. I realised then that as a pilgrim on foot, we were the smallest and least important people on the road and that brings with it a humility and vulnerability that we often don’t feel in our daily lives. Walking exposed to the elements and at the mercy of anything and everything on the road, one cannot but feel one’s humanity and our need for God. As we prepare to be with the Lord on the difficult road to Calvary, we think about our own vulnerabilities, about the places in our lives where we are in need of humility. I feel that this is especially important now, where we all feel particularly vulnerable to illness and to the circumstances that are way beyond our control. This helps us to be humble as we realise that we’re always in need of God who constantly invites us to come and “have life.”

Thirdly, the pilgrim is intimately connected with the earth in a visceral way. We feel the earth beneath our feet in a new way after miles and miles on the road and in the same way, we seek to feel Holy Week in a more visceral way. St Ignatius tells us that one of the graces for contemplating the Passion is to feel the chaos and confusion that came during the Way of the Cross. We ask for the same this Holy Week – to feel the confusion in our daily lives as circumstances change and we struggle to respond, and to join this confusion with that of the crowd along the way to Calvary as try our best to stay with the Lord through this chaos. While this sounds hard (and it is), we have one source of consolation. The final part of the reading from Isaiah tells us that we’ll not only reach our destination (with God’s help) but that we will be changed positively in the process. It’s very consoling to hear how all our experiences, good and bad, water the soil of our souls, making us fruitful and nourishing us so we can live up to the ends for which we were created.

Prayer for today

• Pray with Isaiah 55:1-11. Read the passage at least twice, slowly and prayerfully.
• Ask for the grace that we need: To experience God more intimately this Holy Week, to be on the journey with Christ towards Calvary, feeling the chaos and confusion so that we may learn to love him more.
• One way of approaching this passage is to stay with the rich set of images that the prophet Isaiah describes. We can picture them in our minds, relishing and savouring these gifts from God and responding with gratitude and praise. These images can be comforting in themselves, especially if we see them in ways that are familiar to us. We reflect on how we feel as we sense these images.
• The other way is to use the idea of being on pilgrimage as a means of structuring our prayer. We can imagine ourselves on the road with the Lord, on the roads of Judea, on familiar roads in our lives, or even on the road to Calvary. We consider how we feel as we are accompanied by the Lord, bringing to mind how he’s humble and vulnerable and how this experience will be transformative for us.
• Towards the end of this, I engage the Lord in a conversation. I bring my entire self into this dialogue and speak with him from the depths of my heart. I listen to what Jesus has to say to me.
• End with the Lord’s Prayer.

Holy Week Tuesday: Freedom and Time

Holy Week Tuesday (7 April 2020)
Exodus 14:15-15:18

The crossing of the Red Sea can be seen to be one of the definitive events of the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. Their reaching the far bank of the Red Sea after passing through it on dry land between walls of water was the clearest sign of freedom that their entire nation had seen in centuries. Freedom. That was what they yearned for and cried out to God for. Freedom, after all the hardships in slavery and under the yoke of increasing cruelty at the hands of the Pharaohs. The readings present us with last struggle towards freedom, God’s immense show of power and love to free the Israelites, and the praise and exultation that the latter gave to God in gratitude for the freedom.

Moses, painting by Jeff Brown

I wonder if many of us are like me and find it difficult to read about freedom in our current times. The least of our worries are the inconveniences that we have in having to stay at home, shelter in place or have our movement curtailed. There are people who have lost employment, homes, livelihoods; others who continue to risk their lives to save others; yet others who are battling for theirs in crowded hospitals. Anxiety builds as uncertainty abounds – how can we feel free if we’re trapped in this situation and where the light at the end of the tunnel seems so very dim and so very far away?

One way of approaching this is to take on the advice of Qoheleth (the pseudonym used by the author of Ecclesiastes) the teacher, who told us that “for everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). There’s a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to rejoice but all through this, we rest secure in our freedom. It’s good to put this freedom in the context of our lives and in the context of what happened to the people of Israel after they received the freedom. All was given and this freedom was duly celebrated with the beautiful Canticle of Moses and Miriam (Exodus 15) but after all this, the Israelites turned away from God and had to wander for 40 years in the wilderness before reaching the promised land.

They were free but had to wander. There was a time to wander and a time to settle. Christ himself was free but submitted to the ultimate cruelty of the crucifixion before the glory of the resurrection. There was a time to die and a time to live again. Our current context can be looked at in a similar way. We’re in a time of difficulty but yet, we’re free. Free to bury ourselves in the difficulty and forget how God has given us the freedom to do more than that. Or free to look outwards, to exercise the freedom to love more and to reach out in ways that we can (respecting rules and social distance), to live fully within the limits that we have. We can do this because with this freedom also comes the hope for the joy that is to come. The Israelites had this hope for the promised land that kept them going through their time in the wilderness and we too have the same hope of a promised land, the joy of Easter expressed when we come together again to celebrate the sacraments as a community.

Prayer for today

• Pray with Exodus 14:15-15:18. You may choose to do only Exodus 14:15-30 which is the crossing of the Red Sea or Exodus 15:1-18 which is the joyful Canticle of Moses and Miriam. Or both. Read the passage at least twice, slowly and prayerfully.
• Ask for the grace that we need: To experience God more intimately this Holy Week, to feel how we’re been freed by God’s love and how God’s inviting us to live this freedom more fully in our lives.
• It’s instructive to join the people of Israel to walk through the Red Sea, to marvel at the wonders that God has done for us, for us! To relish the sweetness of the air as we walk up to the shore on the other side and to look back as the sea moves back into place. To feel our hearts cry out with joy, “We are free!” It’s good to note my reaction to this as I imagine this scene.
• When I hear the song of triumph and exultation sung after the crossing of the Red Sea, how do I feel? What does this song that celebrates freedom make me want to do? I hear God being praised – how do I want to praise God more?
• Towards the end of this, I feel myself before God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I say what I feel to the Holy Trinity, with one of the persons or to all. I reflect upon my own experience of freedom and engage in a heart-to-heart conversation. I listen to what God has to say to me.
• End with a Glory be.

Holy Week Monday: Love and Creation

Holy Week Monday (6 April 2020)
Genesis 1:1-2:2

We’ll be using readings from the Easter Vigil these next three days for two reasons. The first is that we often hear them proclaimed at the Vigil but they don’t get as much attention given the enormity of the celebration. I feel it’s good to go back to pray with these reading and experience how they lead us to Passion and Resurrection. The second is that these readings are particularly powerful and can really help us deepen our experience of the mystery of Holy Week while allowing us to reflect on our current situation of crisis and difficulty.

The account of creation in Genesis is breathtaking in its beauty and scope yet it’s also fraught with controversy, especially in recent times. (And by recent I mean in the past 150 years. It’s recent in the light of the context of Genesis.) Some might see it as a strong argument against science and evolution, taking the literal interpretation of how the world was created in seven days. Others might see it as an archaic myth that came from the traditions of the cultures in the Middle-East that are great stories to listen to but don’t express truths in the world. As with all extreme views, they push a particular argument by forcing one to negate other important aspects of our reality as loved children of God. And that, to me, is the best starting point from which to look at this scene.

Beauty of Creation: The Valley of the Flowers in Uttarakhand, India.

What if we saw this creation account as the start of a great love story between God and people? Of how God, who is before and beyond time, saw the darkness and the formless void and thought it good to bring light into the darkness and form into the nothingness. And that goodness of God started the whole act of creation that separated and gave life, leading ultimately to the creation of man and woman. That’s us, the children of God who were created in God’s image and likeness, created just a little lower than the angels (Psalm 8). And those who have heard me speak on this would know that I often refer to Genesis 1:31, on how the creation of man and woman was “very good.” Of all of creation, we were considered special and that’s something to remember as we grow in our relationship with God, building on this love that’s been there since before the beginning of the world.

That’s quite a love story isn’t it? To be loved before we were even created and perhaps even more movingly, to be loved into being. And with all good love stories with us as participants, we’re invited to respond in some way to this. I feel that contemplating our loving creation can be like an invitation to participate in God’s constant loving and creating, recognising that we’re part of this on-going process. Holy Week is part of this process, of how God’s love for us is shown through the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, who is God but also did all that for us. The love story that began with creation and reaches a climax during Holy Week, continues in our lives and it’s important for us to recognise that we’re given the power to work with God in labouring for our world.

And this makes the contemplation of the creation account that much more alive and active. If we don’t see it as something that’s happened eons ago but see this act of separating light from darkness, bringing life and love to others, as something that’s unfolding before our very lives, we can gain some perspective into what’s happening to us now too. True, there’s much darkness in our lives now, especially with those most affected by the virus and the associated effects. If we take the creation account as a one-off thing, then the darkness that we see now can seem impenetrable, terrible. But if we consider how God is inviting us to labour in creation, the darkness can be another opportunity for God to say, “Let there be light.” And the wonderful thing is that we’re invited to participate in this too. There’s hope and agency in this – we’re not helpless neither are we left alone. And that can be powerful in these troubled times.

Prayer for today

• Pray with Genesis 1:1-2:2. Read the passage at least twice, slowly and prayerfully.
• Ask for the grace that we need: To experience God more intimately this Holy Week, to feel how we’re loved into being and called to participate in the continuing act of creation in our world.
• There are many ways to enter into the scene – picturing images of nature can be a good starting point. These can be real images in the form of photos or memories of places we’ve been to or find particularly moving. We consider how God has created them all, approaching God with gratitude that we’re also part of this great act of creation.
• What’s my reaction to this? What do I feel as I contemplate these scenes? What do the various parts of creation described in the passage mean to me?
• Towards the end of this, I feel myself before our Triune God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I have a conversation with God, with one of the Trinity or all three together or in turn, speaking about my own experience of creation. Then I listen for their response.
• End with a Glory be.

I’m not normally one to suggest prayers with music but it seems appropriate for this day. I have two suggestions, one (the first) that’s a little odd but reflects my odd musical taste and the other (the second) that’s a little more soothing.

From Mike Oldfield’s Songs of Distant Earth. Two tracks ‘In the beginning’ and ‘Let there be light.’ Both include a recording of a reading of the Book of Genesis by Bill Anders who read it aboard Apollo 8 in 1968 while orbiting the moon.

From Kjartan Sveinsson’s Der Klang Der Offenbarung Des Göttlichen (The Explosive Sonics of Divinity), Teil IV

Palm Sunday: Focus and Humility

Palm Sunday (5 April 2020)
Mt 21:1-11

2000 years ago, a triumphant entry into a city by a ruler or great general would have been accompanied by great fanfare – adoring crowds lining the streets waving cloths or palm fronds (a symbol of royalty in Palestine) and the ruler or general astride a beautiful horse with the retinue of soldiers and courtiers creating a procession of sorts. Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem was triumphant but quite different. Instead of a horse, he had a donkey, the mode of transport for the poorer people. Instead of soldiers and courtiers, he had a ragtag bunch of fishermen and other people from the surrounding countryside. Instead of gifts of gold or expensive ointments, he had people spread cloaks and palm fronds on the ground before him. Triumphant but humble, real, and close to the people at the same time.

And it’s also significant to note that the feeling of triumph came not from Jesus himself but from the people who lined the streets. He came in riding a donkey, a humble steed and also in fulfilment of prophecies of Isaiah (62:11) and Zechariah (9:9) that Matthew referred to. He asked not for the adulation of the crowd but they gave it anyway, because they were amazed at what he said and did, healing throughout Judea. Throughout all this, I imagine Jesus remaining quite unmoved by this show, focused on what was to come and continuing to seek out those who were in need of help and healing.

I found that particular attitude of Jesus particularly important during these times. Two points on this. Firstly, the single-minded focus on the things that are important without being distracted by the external circumstances. Jesus knew that he was there to do the work of his Father and in these final days, there would be great difficulties and the possibility of distraction. It’s easy to get carried away by the clamour of the crowd – in his case to go off and allow the crowd to make him the earthly messiah that they wanted. But Jesus didn’t do that and went the opposite route in allowing himself to be tried and put to death as a criminal, saving all of us in the process. We need that sort of focus in these dark times as well. To keep our eyes on Jesus as Peter should have as he walked on water, and not to internalise all the gloom and doom we read about in the news every day. This focus on Jesus, on being compassionate and people for others, can help bring us out of our anxieties and recognise that no matter how dire the situation is, there’s a resurrection after the passion.

Secondly, Jesus’s humility is worth noting as well. We read about that in the famous hymn of Christ in Philippians 2:5-11 on how was obedient to the Father and took on the condition of a slave and accepted death on a cross. This humility can be a useful attitude to take in the face of uncertainty and struggle because with this humility comes the acknowledgement that at the centre of things. By being humble, we decentre our attention away from our own (sometimes) selfish needs and begin to see to the needs of others. Our world grows bigger as we extend our love to those in need (in ways appropriate to our current situation of course), bringing compassion to a world that is sorely in need of it.

Prayer for today

• Pray with Matthew 21:1-1. Start by reading the gospel passage at least twice, slowly and prayerfully.
• Ask for the grace that we need: To be with Jesus during Holy Week, recognising his focus and humility so that we too can love and serve him and others as he did.
• Enter into the gospel scene with Jesus and the crowds. And then take note of who we are in the scene, and where Jesus is in relation to us. Move around in the scene and take in the sights and the sounds.
• What’s my reaction to the voices in the crowds, to the cheering and the waving of palms? How am I making my own celebration of the glory and majesty of Jesus, our humble Lord and King?
• At the end of this, take a moment to speak with Jesus. Have a conversation with him about the experience. How did I feel during this conversation and how was Jesus like? Take note of both and stay with these feelings.
• End with the Lord’s Prayer.