Year B – 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lip-Syncing Through Life

(Deut.4:1-2, 6-8; Jas.1:17-18, 21b-22, 27; Mk.7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23)

‘Lip-syncing’ occurs when someone silently mimes someone else’s pre-recorded words or song.

It became common at the end of the silent movie era, when many film stars didn’t quite have the right speaking or singing voice.

But it has been controversial. Many people felt cheated when they learnt that Audrey Hepburn had lip-synced her songs in My Fair Lady. And in 1990, when the world discovered that Milli Vanilli didn’t sing their own songs, people were outraged. The real singers were two former US soldiers who apparently didn’t have the right ‘look’.

Milli Vanilli had to return their Grammy Award for ‘Best New Artist.’

When people are expected to be authentic, lip-syncing is often considered dishonest.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus accuses the Pharisees of lip-syncing to the Old Testament. The Pharisees have been demanding to know why Jesus lets his disciples eat without washing their hands. But Jesus knows they’re not really interested in hygiene or in God’s commandments. Their real concern is ensuring that the people obey their own rules about ritual purification. 

Jesus is annoyed. The Pharisees are mouthing the right words, but they are not genuine, so He quotes Isaiah’s prophecy, ‘This people honours me only with lip-service, while their hearts are far from me. The worship they offer me is worthless…’ (Is.29:13).

It’s quite easy to put on a false front to hide what’s really in our hearts. One man was very good at this, at least for a while. He filled his speeches with Christian references. He spoke of God’s blessings and the importance of Christianity to his new government. He even held up a well-thumbed Bible, explaining how it had inspired him. But such hypocrisy is not sustainable, and the world soon learnt who Adolf Hitler really was.

Year-B-22nd-Sunday-in-Ordinary-Time-1

In our second reading today, St James says that there’s a vital connection between faith and love. Genuine religion, he says, is about caring for suffering widows and orphans, and making sure that our hearts are not corrupted by our selfish world.

In other words, our Christian faith is about genuinely loving God and each other, in both word and deed, for the heart is fundamental to everything we do.

Indeed, our hearts are at the very core of our human identity, and when our words and actions don’t connect with our hearts, we lose our integrity. And when we lose our integrity, people stop trusting us. They turn away.

For our words to ring true, they must come from the heart. For our actions to be authentic, they must be inspired by the heart. And for our faith to be genuine, it must be embedded in our hearts.

We know this, don’t we? Without our heart, our welcome is hollow, our words are empty and our faith is false.

Indeed, Flor McCarthy tells us that it’s only with the heart that we can see rightly. To see with the eyes only is to be no better than a camera.

It’s only with the heart that we can hear rightly. The cry of a needy person may reach our ears, but unless it reaches our hearts we will not feel that person’s pain, and it’s unlikely that we’ll respond.

It’s only with the heart that we can work rightly. If our heart is in our work, the work becomes a joy and we put our best into it. But if our heart is not in it, we are working under the severest handicap of all.

And it’s only with the heart that we can forgive rightly. If forgiveness does not come from the heart, it will not bring us peace, nor will it result in true reconciliation with the other. [i]

The message for today, then, is that if you’ve been lip-syncing your way through life, it’s time to stop. It’s time to get real and engage with your heart.

Let’s close with a little story.

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A humble gardener presents his king with the greatest carrot he has ever grown. The king is touched and responds by giving the gardener a large plot of land.

A nobleman witnesses this event, and decides that it would be advantageous for him to present the king with his finest horse.

He does just that, but the king merely thanks him for the horse.

Seeing the nobleman quite confused, the king explains to him, ‘That gardener was giving me the carrot. But you were giving yourself the horse.’


[i] Flor McCarthy, The Gospel of the Heart, Dominican Publications, Dublin, 2005:167.

 

Year B – 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Choices We Make

(Josh.24:1-2a, 15-17, 18b; Eph.5:21-32; Jn.6:60-69)

We make choices every day. Most are small, like what to eat or wear, but some are big, like where to work and who to marry.

Knowingly and unknowingly, we make choices all the time. They shape our existence, and every good choice helps us live our very best lives.

Victor Frankl, the psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, described our ability to choose as ‘the last of the human freedoms’. He once wrote that everything can be taken from a person but this one thing, the ability to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

Because of this, Frankl said, every human being has the freedom to change at any instant.[i] Even in our darkest moments, we always have the power to choose how we respond to our situation.

How well, then, do we exercise our power to choose? Do we do it well, or do we tend to be more passive, perhaps avoiding decisions altogether or leaving them to others?

Samuel Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot tells the story of two men, Estragon and Vladimir, who spend all day every day waiting under a tree in the countryside for someone named Godot to arrive.

They aren’t sure if he’s coming, but they hope that when he does, he’ll bring meaning and purpose to their lives. So, they wait for Godot, and as they wait, they eat and argue, and they talk about all sorts of things. But nothing changes, and they just keep waiting. And waiting. And waiting. [ii]

A fruitless and empty life can lead to very deep regrets.

In 2012, Bronnie Ware published a book about her work in palliative care. In it she reveals the five biggest regrets her dying patients shared with her:

  • I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
  • I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
  • I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
  • I wish I’d stayed in touch with my friends, and
  • I wish I’d let myself be happier. [iii]

No-one likes regrets, so how can we ensure we always make the right choices?

Firstly, by understanding our values (what we believe is fundamentally important in life) and always using this as a sound basis for daily decision-making. Much like the wise man who built his house on rock (Mt.7:24-27).

And secondly, by making sure that all our choices are consistent with our values.

In John’s Gospel today, Jesus concludes His Bread of Life Discourse. This is the talk he gave in the synagogue in Capernaum, just after feeding the 5,000.

Essentially, He’s saying, ‘I am the Bread of Life who came down from heaven to give life to the world. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood will live forever.’

In other words, ‘Come to me for spiritual food that will nourish and transform your existence. Come to me if you want eternal life.’

Here, Jesus is giving his listeners – that’s us – a choice: are you going to believe me and accept my Eucharistic self, or will you reject me?

Many of Jesus’ disciples do reject Him. They can’t understand how someone who turned water into wine can also transform bread and wine into His own flesh and blood. So, they turn away, and only the original Twelve choose to stay.

It’s not much different today; so many people would rather sit on their hands than choose Jesus. They’d rather follow the false gods of our day. But take note: Jesus never forces us into anything. He always lets us choose for ourselves.

In our first reading today, Joshua is the man who replaces Moses after the Israelites enter the Promised Land. Joshua is getting old, and he calls on the leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel to choose: either to remain faithful to the God who gave them their new home, or to follow the false gods of their new land.

Joshua says he plans to serve God, and his people agree to do the same.

Today, Jesus is offering us a sound and sensible foundation for our lives; one that actually leads to eternal life. He’s inviting us to follow Him.

Right now, Jesus is asking, ‘What about you, do you want to go away, too?’

Peter replied, ‘Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life.’

What is your reply to Jesus?


[i] Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning, Beacon Press, Boston, 2023.

[ii] Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot, Grove Press, NY, 1954.

[iii] Bronnie Ware, The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. Hay House, Inc., Carlsbad, CA, 2012

Year B – 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Road to Hope

(Prov.9:1-6; Eph.5:15-20; Jn.6:51-58)

As a young boy growing up in Hue, Vietnam, in the 1930s, Francis-Xavier Nguyên Van Thuân was fascinated by the Holy Eucharist. He knew it was something special.

It led him to the priesthood and to Rome where he studied Canon Law. And in 1975, just before Saigon fell to the communists at the end of the Vietnam War, he arrived as its new archbishop.

There was no-one to greet him, and soon afterwards he was arrested and imprisoned in Nha Trang, the place where he’d earlier served as bishop (1967-75).

He spent the next nine years in solitary confinement.

The archbishop feared he’d never be able to celebrate the Eucharist again. However, when he was allowed to write to his family, he asked for clothes and toiletries, and added, ‘Please send me a little wine as medicine for my stomach ache.’

They understood what he meant, and sent him some wine in a little medicine bottle, and hosts hidden in a torch. He used these things to secretly celebrate Mass in his tiny cell, every day at 3 pm, the hour when Jesus died on the Cross.

Relying on his memory, he consecrated three drops of wine and a drop of water on the palm of his hand, along with some host-crumbs. And as he lapped up the precious Eucharistic blood in his hand, he asked for the grace to drink the bitter chalice and to unite himself to Christ’s shedding of blood.

Extending his arms to form a cross, he joined his sufferings to that of Jesus on the Cross. His hand became his altar, his cell became his cathedral.

He later described these as the most beautiful Masses of his life.

After nine years in solitary confinement, he was sent north to a ‘re-education camp’ for another four years. There he was locked up with fifty prisoners in a crowded room. Each day at 9.30 pm, in the dark, he celebrated Mass over his bed, and under a mosquito net he gave tiny pieces of the sacred host to the other Catholics.

Wrapping tiny particles of the blessed sacrament in cigarette foil, he and the other prisoners took turns adoring Jesus secretly. Their worship not only helped them to survive; it also helped them to heal.

The archbishop’s gentle manner and the Holy Eucharist changed the lives of many of these prisoners. Even the camp guards began to confide in him. But the suspicious authorities changed the warders regularly to avoid them being ‘contaminated.’

During his imprisonment, Nguyên Van Thuân often felt useless and feared losing his mind. He also wondered how he could care for his flock, but God helped him to see how he could offer ‘five loaves and two fish’ of daily prayer for the good of his people.

He also began writing a few words of wisdom on scraps paper from old calendars, and gave them to a brave Catholic boy who passed by. That boy’s parents copied them into a notebook, and eventually his 1,001 thoughts were published in a book called The Road to Hope: A Gospel from Prison.

That book did much to bolster the faith of the Vietnamese people during the worst of the Communist repression.

Not surprisingly, many of his wise words were about the Eucharistic Jesus, nourished by his prison experience. For example, he wrote:

  • The whole of the Lord’s life was directed toward Calvary. The whole of our life should be oriented toward the Eucharistic celebration; and
  • As the drop of water put into the chalice mingles with the wine, so your life should become one with Christ’s.

In 1991, Archbishop Nguyên Van Thuân was released and allowed to leave Vietnam, but never to return. He travelled to Rome where Pope St John Paul II warmly greeted him. He was made a cardinal in 2001, but died the following year.

In 2007, he was declared ‘Venerable’, the first step on his path to sainthood.

In John’s Gospel today, Jesus says, ‘Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.’

Nguyên Van Thuân understood this well. He said that the only thing that helped him survive so many years of torture and dehumanisation was the Holy Eucharist. It gave him life and he used it to love his fellow prisoners and even the guards who abused him. Some of these men were so moved by his faith that they, too, became Catholics. [i]

The Eucharist (Greek for ‘thanksgiving’) means so much more than just ‘receiving Communion.’ It’s about consuming Jesus Himself, combining our life with His, so that we might draw life from Him.

And not just eternal life, but also the strength we need to survive – and thrive – here on earth.


[i] https://slmedia.org/blog/cardinal-van-thuan-canonization-cause

Year B – 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

La Dolce Vita

(1Kgs.19:4-8; Eph.4:30-5:2; Jn.6:41-51)

La Dolce Vita – ‘The sweet life.’ Have you ever seen that movie?

It was made in 1960 by Frederico Fellini. In the opening scenes, a statue of Jesus is carried by helicopter across Rome, first over some old Roman ruins, and then over a big new construction site.

At one point it’s carried above some beautiful bikini-clad women sunbaking on a rooftop, and they wonder where Jesus is going.

Then we see the helicopter lowering the statue onto St Peter’s Square. As the statue comes down, the camera zooms in for a close-up of Jesus with his arms extended, and He’s safely delivered to the Pope in the Vatican. [i]

Fellini made this film at a time when Italy was pulling itself out of the ruins of World War II. It’s the simple story of a man (played by Marcello Mastroianni) searching for a way out of the shallowness and spiritual desolation of his life.

For a while this film was banned because of its depiction of the seven deadly sins. But what Fellini was doing was offering a powerful commentary on the way the world was changing after WWII.

Instead of learning from the mistakes of the past and cherishing our Christian heritage, Fellini saw too many people turning towards the shallow self-indulgence of modern-day secularism.

When Martin Scorsese saw this film, he said it showed the world ‘moving from decadence to despair with nothing in between.’

The scene of Christ being lowered by helicopter onto St Peter’s Square was Fellini’s way of showing how the world is trying to lock Jesus away, confining him to within the walls of the Church.

He makes the point that if you remove Jesus from daily life, then spiritual decay will follow and hope will disappear.

So, what happens when hope does disappear? Let me tell you another story.

Before WWII, three famous Jewish psychiatrists lived in Vienna. They all spent years trying to understand human behaviour, to learn what makes people tick.

One was Sigmund Freud. He believed that the most basic drive in human beings is the desire for pleasure. He thought that everything we do in our lives is based on our need to feel good. In Fellini’s movie, that’s reflected in the image of the women sunbaking.

The second psychiatrist was Alfred Adler, who disagreed with Freud. He argued that what motivates people is the desire for power, the need to control things and to feel important.

The third man was Victor Frankl, who was younger than the other two. When the Nazis invaded Austria, Freud and Adler managed to escape. But Frankl was arrested and he spent four long years locked up in concentration camps, including Auschwitz and Belsen.

Victor Frankl

While he was there, Frankl noticed that those who survived weren’t the ones you’d expect. Very often those who were physically strong wasted away and died, while those who were much weaker managed to grow stronger and survived. Why?

Well, it wasn’t pleasure that kept them going. There was no pleasure in those horrid camps; it was all misery and murder. And it wasn’t power that kept them going, either, because the prisoners had no power. They were treated like animals.

What Frankl noticed was that the people who survived had hope. They never gave up their belief that life had meaning, despite everything that happened to them. They kept going.

In his film La Dolce Vita, Frederico Fellini had some serious comments to make about the shallow, self-indulgent secularism of our age. For it’s not the desire for pleasure that will sustain us, and it’s not the pursuit of power that will give us a better world.

What’s far more important is hope and meaning, and as Christians we know exactly where real hope and meaning are to be found. 

As Jesus tells us in our Gospel today, He is the Bread of Life that came down from heaven. Only Jesus has the power to satisfy our deepest hunger, our hunger for spiritual meaning. Only Jesus offers us hope for eternal life.

In Isaiah (55:2-3), the prophet asks, ‘Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread? Why do you labour for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me,’ he says, ‘and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.’ 

And what is this rich food that satisfies? It’s the Bread of Life. Jesus Christ. 

Whoever eats this bread will live forever.


[i] See the opening scenes at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uo84caBoToQ

Year B – 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Bread of Life

(Ex.16:2-4, 12-15; Eph.4:17, 20-24; Jn.6:24-35)

In 1995, someone set a world record by making a loaf of bread, from harvesting the wheat through to baking, in 8 minutes 13 seconds. That’s fast!

In biblical times, breadmaking took much longer. The typical housewife got up early before dawn to start grinding the flour by hand. Grinding 800 grams of flour took an hour, but if she had five or six people to feed, she would have had to spend three hours grinding.

In those days bread was an important part of the diet, much like today, but it always meant hard work. Ordinary families had to plough and sow, seed and hoe, reap and thresh, winnow and sift, grind and sift again, knead and moisten, light the fire and then bake. Only then could they have a piece to eat.

It’s not surprising, then, that bread became such an important symbol around the world. Today it’s an icon of nutrition, wealth and comfort, and breaking bread has become an important symbol of peace.

It’s also not surprising that Jesus added bread to the Lord’s Prayer. When the early Christians prayed ‘give us this day our daily bread’ (Mt.6:11), they didn’t just pray for a good harvest or for enough flour. They also prayed for the strength to keep making their own bread each day.

In John’s Gospel today, the crowds of people that Jesus had fed earlier go looking for Him. They want more of His bread, and we can understand why. It was nourishing, it was easy and it was free.

But Jesus thinks the time’s come to offer them something even more precious.  He says, ‘do not work for food that cannot last, but work for food that endures to eternal life, the kind of food the Son of Man is offering you’.

He invites them to look beyond their ordinary lives and to start focussing on more profound things. We’ve all been created by God to live with Him forever, and Jesus has come to show us what to do. 

All we need to do is believe in Him and follow His way, and eternal life will be ours. That’s why Jesus is called the Bread of Life.  

But the crowd doesn’t understand. They ask Jesus for a sign, and He tells them that the God who fed Moses and the Israelites in the desert all those years ago is the very same God who just fed the 5,000 on that hillside. 

Then He tells them straight: ‘I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.’

What Jesus is offering them isn’t just a full belly. Rather, He’s offering them the way to personal fulfilment. He’s offering them the answer to the riddle of life.

Many people in our world today regularly eat their fill and have all they need, but still feel ‘empty’ inside. They’re hungry for something more in their lives, but don’t know what to look for.

Some people think the answer is to focus on looking good and surrounding themselves with nice shiny things. They spend lots of time and money on their appearance; they’re obsessed with their image and possessions. But at the same time they’re ignoring their souls.

They’re ignoring God.

This is what Jesus is trying to teach us. He cares about physical hunger, but He cares even more about our spiritual hunger. He’s telling us that only He can satisfy our yearning for a life of peace, love, purpose and joy.

In our second reading today, St Paul says that if we accept the nourishment that Jesus offers us, our lives will be transformed. That’s when we’ll find that we’re no longer satisfied with full bellies and empty hearts and minds.

Paul encourages us to put aside our old lives, and instead put on a new self, nourished by the goodness, holiness and truth of Jesus Christ.

For He is the Bread of Life.

The kind of bread that Jesus offers us involves effort, but of a different kind. It means taking the time we need to develop a personal relationship with Him, by getting to know Him and allowing Him to nourish and transform us from the inside out.

When next you pray, ‘… Give us this day our daily bread,’ remember that Jesus is our daily bread. He is our Bread of Life, and He’s freely available to us all.

Please take as much as you need.