19th Sunday in ordinary time, Cycle C. Today’s readings: Wisdom 18:6-9, Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19, Luke 12:32-48
Every so often in Malta there arises a debate on the place of the Catholic in pluralist society. There is often a mix of nostalgia for a triumphant Church of days gone when there was hardly any standing space left in our ornate temples. Some might also long for a return to the time (if there ever was one) that whatever the Church said was accepted unquestioningly – Roma locuta causa finita est!
Such a desire is perfectly understandable, and the underlying thought is a noble one. Indeed, the Church’s mission is not complete until every member of humanity sits at the Lord’s banquet. Failing to acknowledge this would be to deny the hundreds of thousands of Christians, from St Stephen to our very age, who willingly drank the chalice of martyrdom to witness God’s everlasting love for all humanity, especially the most vulnerable.
Alas, our failure to return to the imaginary idyllic Church in the postmodern, post-Christian society has often led to shortcuts. We are all familiar with attempts at diluting the Gospel’s challenging message in futile efforts to make it more palatable. Alternatively, we might point at others for being so hard-hearted to receive the Good News. Even worse, we might attack the decadent times and mores, forgetting that we form part of the same culture willy-nilly.
It all feels like a long, dark night.
Today’s gospel comes as a timely message of hope and encouragement in the midst of this spiritual ennui. The words of Jesus that form the opening lines of today’s gospel feel like soothing balm on a gaping wound: “Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.” Let that seep in.
Jesus knows that the flock is small. He is not surprised or shocked. His tone is compassionate. The Father does not scold us for not being militant enough. He gratuitously and joyfully shares his kingdom with those who are ready to accept it.
Adopting a sense of resignation is not an option. Rather, the image of servants in girded loins and lit lamps evoke the sense of urgency and gravity with which we are to be vigilant without delay in this dark night. For the servants who await the master’s return his absence is almost like a presence. They miss him and hope for his return, and behave as if he is already present among them.
Unfortunately, many Catholics have interpreted this waiting for the return of the master as though God is bent on playing a waiting game on us to catch us out and punish us at our moment of fragility.
The Gaze of the Crucified Christ, by Pauline DimechIn her recently-published book The Gaze of the Crucified Christ, Maltese theologian Pauline Dimech intimately recounts her own journey towards Christian maturity. Having been brought up as a child threatened with God’s unescapable gaze always ready to chide, she eventually grows into the discovery of God’s true gaze. It is the loving gaze of the crucified Christ. In her remarkable testimony, she weaves together strands from Augustine to Nicholas of Cusa, and Ignatius of Loyola to Dun Ġorġ, with her personal life experiences, all of which have helped her appreciate God’s gaze as one that is akin to two lovers lost in each other’s embrace.
In a world torn apart at every corner by war and strife, on the brink of a recession, with the socially disadvantaged always more at risk, we cannot live our faith any longer with a petty sense of religiosity, as though we form part of an elite bowling club or as though it were a hobby we enjoy in our free time.
We cannot live our faith any longer with a petty sense of religiosity, as though we form part of an elite bowling club or as though it were a hobby we enjoy in our free time
To borrow Karl Rahner’s phrase, “The Christian of the future will either be a mystic or will not exist at all.”
That future is now.