Light in the Darkness: Homily for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, we have a very rich passage from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians to reflect on today; a passage which offers many learnings for all of us who are called to preach the Gospel.

When I came to you, brothers and sisters,
proclaiming the mystery of God,
I did not come with sublimity of words or of wisdom.

Right at the very start St. Paul is clear that he does not come with words of human wisdom. No! All he has before him, that is, all that he reflects on and contemplates, is:

Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

In other words, what guides St. Paul’s preaching is the Cross of Our Lord, which earlier in the same letter he clarified was:

a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles

It is this mystery to the world that guides the teachings that St. Paul brings to the people whom God has chosen for His own.

I did not come with sublimity of words or of wisdom.

…

I came to you in weakness and fear and much trembling,
and my message and my proclamation
were not with persuasive words of wisdom,
but with a demonstration of Spirit and power,
so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom
but on the power of God.

My dear brothers and sisters, the priest of our times is faced with a very grave threat to his priestly vocation. This threat stems from the wisdom of the world that demands that he be charismatic, popular, a good speaker, and worse, that his homilies and his preaching should be stimulating and attract our attention. This worldly wisdom, as St. Paul teaches us in Corinthians is foolishness, but so great is the pressure, that many a priest attempts to fulfill these requirements and then falls in his priesthood. His preaching is often not about pious teachings of the Church but about worldy wisdom, in some cases forgetting these teachings to urge social activism alone! The delivery of his homily is not restrained, but a passionate exercise in public speaking which may get the faithful excited, but fails to invite them to contemplate the fruits of his reflection. Oftentimes, we priests are encouraged to approach the pulpit not “in weakness and fear and much trembling” but with “persuasive words of [worldly] wisdom”, working in such a way that the faith of the people we are called to lead rests not “on the power of God” but “on human wisdom.” In other words, the priest, the alter Christus, is invited not to present the Cross of Christ, but offer his personality!

It falls on you, my dear brothers and sisters, to reassure the priest that you are not interested in performance, but in drinking deep from the font of the teachings of Our Holy Mother Church. Human nature, my dear brothers and sisters in Christ, is dialogical, we respond to what persons demand of us, and we need to demonstrate that we want our priests to be persons who contemplate the cross of Christ, who come to the pulpit empowered by a relationship with the Spirit.

St. Paul’s words of advice extend also to liturgical animators, particularly to those animators who are often heard to say proudly, “I wrote the liturgy”, or worse “I directed the liturgy.” My dear brothers and sisters, strictly speaking, the introduction to the Mass, the various other introductions that happen during the Mass, are not part of the liturgy. They are additions to it. They are at best aids to the liturgy. Listen to the words of the venerable Cardinal Robert Sarah – who was the Prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments – in a recent book The Song of the Lamb: Sacred Music and the Heavenly Liturgy:

In its fullest Christian sense…. The liturgy emerges not as human creation or activity, but as “opus Trinitatis” – the work of the Trinity – permeating the life of the Church at large. We must be careful not to reduce the liturgy to a mere human endeavour, as if we were the creators of the liturgy. [The liturgy] serves the people not as something crafted by them, but rather as a divine offering of the Son to the Father on behalf of Christ’s spouse, the Church, making possible our participation in the divine reality.

What is called for, therefore, is a great amount of humility on the part of the liturgical animators and priests. There is a need to restrain our words, so that attention is directed not to ourselves, but to the great sacrifice of the Mass that they must support, and priests lead. In the Gospel today Our Lord says to us:

You are the light of the world.

Light we are, and shine we must. But we must shine, not to gain the admiration of people, but, as the Gospel teaches us today, so that people:

may see your good deeds
and glorify your heavenly Father.

The words from psalm 115:1 must serve as a caution to both priests and animators:

Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam
              Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory

 

(A version of this homily was first preached to the faithful at the Cathedral parish of St. Catherine of Alexandria, Old Goa on 7 February 2026.)

(image reference: St. Charles Borromeo with two angels contemplating the Cross, Antiveduto Grammatica, Worchester Art Museum.)

Oh Fall on Your Knees! Homily for the Feast of St. Thomas the Apostle

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus. We are gathered here today to pay homage to your patron St. Thomas the Apostle and I would like to use this opportunity to reflect on what San Tomé, in his famous interaction with the Risen Lord, can teach us about worship and the liturgy.

As many of you would know, in the Gospel according to St. John we are told that Our Lord, after He was resurrected, appeared to the disciples, but Tomé was not among them. When this glorious encounter was recounted to him by the disciples, Thomas famously declared:

Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe. (Jn 20: 25)

A week later, Our Lord appeared to the disciples one more time, this time with St. Thomas present, and Our Lord said to him:

Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe. (Jn 20: 27)

St. Thomas is recorded as having responded:

My Lord and my God! (Jn 20: 28)

In other words, he fell silent! And I have no doubt that St Thomas would have knelt when silencing himself with these words of worship, because kneeling is the most perfect way of demonstrating that one is in the presence of the sacred.

My dear brothers and sisters, this episode has so much to teach us about the act of worship and the liturgy. To begin with, we must remember that Our Lord does not immediately chastise Thomas for his refusal to believe in the resurrection. This is because Our Lord appreciates that the minds we so pride ourselves on, are in fact feeble, and require physical aids to help our belief.

It is for this, among others, reason, that Our Lord instituted the sacraments, and above all the Eucharist. So that we might have physical aids to help aid our faith, and to direct our worship.

And yet, for some years now, our worship – the liturgy – has become more about the cognitive, about words. We have accretions to the liturgy that distract, rather than aid the process of worship. We have introductions to the Mass, introductions to the readings, directions on when to stand, what to think, there is talk, talk, talk! That there is excessive talk at Mass is bad enough, but there is this babbling even at the adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, when in fact we should be silent, and kneeling in adoration, before His presence.

For generations the Church has recognized this truth, that it is not only the head that has to be engaged in worship, but the entire body; which is why we stand, we genuflect, we kneel. We clasp our hands before us, we cross ourselves. And yet, more recently, amidst all the chatter that we have introduced, the body has stopped being fully exercised in the act of worship. And because we only exercise our minds and not our bodies, we fail to internalize the great truths of our faith, that Jesus, Our Lord, is truly present in the Eucharist.

It was after St. Thomas acknowledged his belief that Our Lord, in his gentle manner, chided the apostle:

Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe. (Jn 20:29)

When he says these words, dear brothers and sisters, Our Lord is referring to all of us – who have not seen Him in the flesh but 'only' veiled under the signs of bread and wine; and experience his salvific touch 'only' through the sacraments. As I have already indicated, this belief is best demonstrated, and reiterated, not through some mental consent, but through an embodied response, we fall down on our knees, we genuflect.

Reflecting on this episode in the life of the Lord, and that of His church, I was reminded of the episode (John 9) where Our Lord heals the man who was born blind. After healing him, Our Lord returned and asked him if he believed in the Son of Man. The formerly blind man responded that he wished to see him so that he could believe in Him. Our Lord responds:

“You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” (Jn 9: 37)

The blind man, the Gospel reports:

... said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. (Jn 9: 38)

Many translations of this verse indicate that this assertion of belief, the act of worship, involved kneeling and prostration. He believed, and knelt down before the Lord.

My dear brothers and sisters, on this day when we celebrate the memory of St. Thomas the Apostle, let us imitate his practice, esteem the physical presence of Our Lord among us and esteem the act of kneeling. Let us genuflect whenever we pass before the Blessed Sacrament. Let us kneel when we await the reception of Our Lord in communion; and kneel in silence after we have received Him. Let us return to privilege the silences of the Mass and remember that it is often in these silences that Our Lord speaks to us.

May Our Lord bless you all, and may your patron St. Thomas intercede for you all. San Tomé, rogai por nós.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

(A version of this homily was first preached to the faithful at the chapel of San Tomé, Pangim on 1 Feb 2026. For the Sunday homily faithful to the lectionary, click here.)

(Image reference: St Thomas doubts Christ, Joseph E. Nuttgens, 1944, St Teresa’s church, Beaconsfield, UK.)

The Doors of Holiness: Homily for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Open to me the gates of righteousness,
    that I may enter through them
    and give thanks to the Lord.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, these lyrics from Psalm 118: 19 are not prescribed for today, and yet, these were the words that suggested themselves as I contemplated the lectionary for this fourth Sunday in Ordinary time.  The formulation that suggested itself to me, however, was somewhat different:

              Open to me the gates of holiness, that I might enter and give thanks.

As you will have noticed, the shift is from righteousness to holiness. My head, or perhaps the Spirit, was suggesting to me that what the scripture intends to communicate is that righteousness is the basis of holiness.

This is not a bad way to approach holiness, since it steers us away from the pietism that has come to dominate so much of contemporary Christian – not just Catholic – life. Whether we are piously veiling, receiving communion on our knees, or are regular praise and worship concertgoers coming away with a religious high, there is a dangerous tendency to consider piety and devotion sufficient to keep us on the path of holiness. And while piety is important – I especially believe that Eucharistic piety is very important to growing in holiness; and that the proper reception of communion is fundamental – it is not sufficient. A growth in righteousness is fundamental to the growth in holiness.

And what is righteousness? Guided by this Sunday’s lectionary, I would like to define it as being just, justice being understood as giving to others what is their due (ius). These others include not just those around us, but also God. To be just, then is to give what is due, both to those among us, and also, firstly to God – which is praise, thanksgiving and proper worship.

Let us turn now to the words of the first reading:

Seek the LORD, all you humble of the earth,
who have observed his law;
seek justice, seek humility;
perhaps you may be sheltered
on the day of the LORD's anger.

Who are these, “humble of the earth” that the prophet Zephaniah refers to? They are those who, baptized in Christ, become a part of the Church, His mystical body. If one goes through the list of the beatitudes, that is our Gospel reading for today, we realise that the beatitudes are in fact descriptors of Christ, his saints, and the marks of the true Christian, i.e. those “who observe his law”.

seek justice, seek humility

My dear brothers and sisters, these are the two virtues we need to assiduously seek in our times, whether we live in Goa, or outside. This search is critical because all around us the structures that were built through Christian ethics are now collapsing, and causing much sorrow and loss, and not just to Christians. As the Urdu poet Rahat Indori has so succinctly observed:

Lagegi aag to aayenge ghar kai zad me. Yahan pe sirf humara makan thodi hai.

Many houses will be engulfed in an inferno. It is not as if mine is the only house here.

The pursuit of justice and humility must begin in our daily lives, and in simple ways. Look at the ways in which we drive! I speak for myself, and the terror I experience, when on the highway, vehicles driving at twice the 80 kmph speed limit surge from behind me, and then overtaking from the left, transgress into the bike lane, zip past me and cross over into the lane to my right. I grit my teeth as traffic jams are compounded by those who zip past existing files of cars, creating third and fourth lines. I remind myself in both cases that this happens because the state that ought to enforce discipline, and justice, has abandoned its role. It does not even know what justice is. And yet, I cannot be the enforcer of justice in this mess – I need to have the humility to recognize this. All I can do, for now, is to make sure that I do not join these unjust. For these men are most certainly unjust, given they create potential death traps, and deprive rule-abiding people of their due even when not killing them.

And why is it that we seek humility and justice? The last line from Zephaniah is very clear. So that:

you may be sheltered
on the day of the LORD's anger.

It will be on the dread day of judgement that the meek and humble will inherit the kingdom of heaven, those who mourn will find comfort, that those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be satisfied when they see the smug violators of every rule come to divine justice, burning eternally in the fires of hell. On this blessed day of judgement, those who have shown mercy through their attempts at justice, and humility, will be shown mercy. Those who regularly clean their hearts through the sacrament of confession will be admitted into His presence and see the face of God. Those who have struggled to make peace will be acknowledged by the Son and welcomed by the Father into the Kingdom of heaven where they will live eternally in contemplation and adoration of the divine face.

Rejoice and be glad,
for [on that day] your reward will be great in heaven.

It is for this day of judgement that we Christians walk the path of holiness. For we know that life extends beyond this material world, and the impious perpetrators of injustice in this world will repent at leisure.

May Our Lord give us the grace to grow in holiness, for as psalm 118: 20 teaches us:

This is the gate of the Lord;
    the righteous shall enter through it.

(A version of this homily was first preached to the faithful at the Cathedral parish of St. Catherine of Alexandria on 31 Jan 2026.)

(Image reference: Bishop Mark Eckman at the doors of St. Paul Cathedral Pittsburgh, Louis B. Ruediger, 2025, via TribLive.)