Faith

Thursday, 24th week in ordinary time – 17th September 2026 – 1Corinthians 15:1-11 and Luke 7:356-50

True belief is not merely a past emotional event, but an ongoing reality where believers actively “stand” and “hold fast” to the word to prevent their faith from becoming empty or in vain. Holding onto faith required immense courage. Today, standing up for your convictions still requires going against the current. True faith is not a passive opinion; it is an active, daily resistance against cynicism. Reflecting on this scripture helps us to expose the common human tendency to overcomplicate faith, letting cultural trends slowly dilute core spiritual convictions.

Paul’s woes with this Corinthian community have no end. He now handles a massive theological crisis in Corinth not with complex philosophy, but by returning directly to the simplicity of the cross and the empty tomb.

The theological backdrop of 1 Corinthians 15:1–11 centres on a profound spiritual identity crisis within the young, vibrant, but deeply fractured church of ancient Corinth. Surrounded by a Greek philosophical culture that laughed at the idea of a physical resurrection as crude and impossible, several members of the Corinthian congregation began arguing that there was no resurrection of the dead.

To counteract this shift toward speculative human wisdom, Paul shifts their attention back to the foundational tradition he passed down to them years prior. Writing around 53–54 AD, Paul quotes one of the earliest known Christian creeds, dating back to within just a few years of the crucifixion, to prove that the historical resurrection of Jesus Christ is not a peripheral opinion, but the non-negotiable structural anchor of the entire Christian faith. A faith that does not hold fast to historical truth will inevitably drift into cultural assimilation.

The dramatic narrative of Luke 7:36–50 unfolds within the strict, honour-and-shame-driven world of first-century Judean society. When Simon, a member of the elite religious sect known as the Pharisees, invites Jesus to dine at his home, it is not an act of genuine friendship. Instead, it is a calculated public evaluation. In Middle Eastern hospitality of this era, hosting a rabbi or prophet required specific courtesies to honour the guest: greeting them with a kiss of peace, providing water to wash their dusty feet, and anointing their head with olive oil. Simon intentionally withholds these basic acts of hospitality, subtly insulting Jesus and lowering His social standing in front of the other distinguished guests.

The entry of the unnamed woman completely disrupts this tense dinner dynamic. Described by the community as a “sinner, “a term frequently implying a public reputation, possibly tied to prostitution, she exploits the cultural norm of the day that allowed the community poor to enter an open courtyard during a banquet to catch crumbs. Weeping at Jesus’ feet, she wet His feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, kissed them repeatedly, and anointed them with an expensive alabaster flask of ointment. In first-century Jewish culture, a woman unbinding her hair in public was a major social scandal, viewed as deeply immodest.

By allowing this woman to touch Him, Jesus shatters Simon’s worldview. The Pharisees believed that holiness required strict physical separation from ritual impurity and sin. Simon internally reasons that if Jesus were truly a prophet, He would instinctively know and reject the touch of a morally unclean woman. Instead, Jesus uses a sharp, devastating parable about two debtors, one who owed a massive sum and another who owed a small amount, to expose Simon’s spiritual blindness. The text reveals that the woman’s shocking, extravagant display of love was not an attempt to earn forgiveness, but a profound, emotional response to the immense forgiveness she had already experienced.

I want to end with two reflections

  1. Look at Simon. Simon wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t some villain in a movie trying to destroy the ministry. Simon was just blind! He was completely blind to his own brokenness. The most dangerous place you can be is not in the pit of sin; it’s in the prison of your own self-righteousness! Simon looked at his life and thought, “I’m doing alright. My debt is small.” When you think your mistakes are minor, your gratitude gets microscopic! When you minimize what God brought you out of, you paralyze what God wants to take you into! Your worship goes cold, your prayers get polite, and your faith turns into a predictable, empty, Sunday-morning routine. You start acting like a consumer instead of a survivor! If you’ve only been forgiven a little, you’re only going to love a little. But when you know what you should have walked into, and you look at what God actually brought you into, you can’t help but praise Him!

  2. Receiving Peace Amidst the Noise: Look at how this dinner ends. The theologians are in the corner huddling up, whispering in protest, asking, “Who does He think He is? Who is this guy who thinks He can just erase a lifetime of sin?” They are focused on the fine print, but Jesus is focused on the person! And I love this about my Saviour: Jesus will completely tune out the critical commentary of the crowd just to drop a word of confirmation into your soul! He doesn’t even waste His breath arguing with the critics at the table. He looks right past the whispers, He looks right past the judgment, and He looks straight into the eyes of this woman and says, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

Stop trying to audition for a crowd that was never called to approve you! People will always try to audit your audit, they’ll try to calculate your past, and they’ll try to put a price tag on your mistakes. But God’s final word over your life is not public opinion. God’s final word over your life is PEACE. When the enemy is whispering condemnation, and the culture is whispering cancellation, Jesus stands up and whispers validation. His peace doesn’t just quiet the storm around you, it completely overrides the critics beside you!

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Faith

The Feast of the Exaltation of the cross – 14th September 2026 – Numbers 21:4b-9 and John 3:13-17

If we are honest with ourselves, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross is a bizarre day in the life of the Church. We gather to “exalt,” to lift high, to celebrate, to brag about—an instrument of state-sponsored terror. It is the ancient equivalent of wearing an electric chair around your neck or putting gallows on the church lawn.

To understand the depths of the Cross, the Church takes us back to the harsh, sun-drenched sands of the Sinai Peninsula in the Book of Numbers. The first reading takes place toward the end of the 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, near the border of Edom. Just before this, God had granted Israel a massive military victory over the Canaanite king of Arad. Yet, immediately following that breakthrough, the geography forced them to take a gruelling, indirect detour around Edom because they were denied safe passage through it.

The text notes that “the soul of the people became very discouraged on the way”. This discouragement quickly curdled into outright rebellion. Unlike earlier complaints where they only targeted Moses, this time the people spoke directly against both God and Moses. They committed two distinct spiritual infractions. First, they openly insulted God’s miraculous food supply, stating, “Our soul loathes this worthless bread” (referring to the manna). Then they recycled the old, fearful narrative that God brought them out of Egypt simply to let them die in the desert. In their weariness, something dangerous happened: their inner discouragement curdled into bitter resentment.

God sent “fiery” serpents among them. Their bites bring agony and death. But notice the strange geometry of God’s mercy when the people repent. God does not make the snakes vanish. Instead, He commands Moses to forge a bronze serpent, the exact likeness of the creature that is killing them, and lift it up on a pole. God didn’t give them an ointment; He gave them an assignment. God didn’t tell them to look away from the problem; He told them they had to look directly at it.

This is the heart of the Exaltation of the Cross. God does not always remove the “snakes” (the hardships, the consequences of sin, or the realities of a fallen world) from our lives the moment we pray. Instead, He provides a remedy in the midst of the reality.

Jesus became our bronze serpent; he became the remedy for our sin. He took upon Himself the exact likeness of our curse, hanging on the cross looking like sin and death itself, yet completely free of the venom of sin. When we exalt the Cross today, we are exalting the fact that God takes the very thing that terrifies us, the very instrument of our execution, and turns it into the source of our healing.

When you look at John 3:13–17 on this Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, you’ve got to understand that the cross was never a tragic accident; it was a deliberate assignment. Jesus didn’t stumble onto Calvary; He stepped down from heaven with a rescue plan already written in His blood. We think we need a god who will just wave a magic wand and make our problems disappear, but God says, “No, I’m going to enter your pain so I can alter your perspective.”

But we need to address a reality in our lives; we cannot be healed from a disease we refuse to look at.  God forces us to look at the wound. Why? Because salvation doesn’t begin with pretending, we are fine; it begins with the sobering truth of who we are, and how desperately we need rescue.

Our generation has become professional magicians at hiding our mess. We don’t call it sin anymore, do we? No, we give it nicer, softer names to make ourselves feel better. We don’t call it a destructive spirit of rage; we just say, “Well, I’m a passionate person; that’s just my personality.” We don’t call it a soul-crushing addiction; we call it “taking the edge off after a stressful day.” We spray spiritual perfume on a dead carcass and wonder why our life still smells like decay!

On this feast day, God wants us to stop dressing up a wound that is actively bleeding through your bandages! You are trying to look pretty on the outside, but the venom of sin is paralyzing you on the inside.

We treat sin like a dirty little secret we have to hide from God, as if the Creator of the universe doesn’t see it. We act like Adam and Eve, running into the bushes, sewing fig leaves together, trying to construct a version of ourselves that looks manageable. But exposure is the prerequisite for transformation! If you keep it in the dark, it keeps its power over you. The enemy’s greatest weapon is your secrecy. As long as he can keep you too proud to look at your problem, he can keep you too paralyzed to receive your promise.

The Cross of Jesus Christ is not a piece of sanitized, shiny jewelry; the Cross is the ultimate mirror. When you look at the Cross, you are forced to look at the absolute horror of sin. It shows us exactly how deep the disease goes. It says, “Look at what it took to rescue you.” It strips away all our self-righteousness, all our excuses, and all our religious games. It forces us to look at the ugly truth.

God didn’t put that mirror on Calvary to condemn you; He put it there to cure you! The enemy wants you to look at your sin and see a death sentence, but Jesus wants you to look at the Cross and see a receipt! Paid in full!

Stop running from the reality of your brokenness. Stop acting like you’ve got it all together. Bring that hidden anger, bring that secret compromise, bring that pride that is choking your relationships, and drag it into the light of the Cross. Look at the disease, look at the wound, because the moment you stop hiding it is the exact moment God starts healing it! Face the mirror, receive the mercy, and watch Him turn your hidden shame into your public victory!

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Faith

Saturday, 23rd week in ordinary time – 12th September 2026- 1Cor 10:14-22 and Luke 6:43-49

Corinth was a major cosmopolitan Roman colony teeming with temples dedicated to Greek and Roman deities like Aphrodite, Apollo, and Asclepius, alongside Egyptian cults like Isis. Pagan temples operated as the primary civic centres, social clubs, and high-end restaurants of the ancient world. Professional associations (for merchants, blacksmiths, bakers, etc.) held regular meetings cantered around communal meals hosted inside these temples. Boycotting temple events meant social alienation, economic ruin, and being labelled unpatriotic or antisocial.

Many wealthy or socially ambitious Corinthian Christians claimed that because “an idol is nothing in the world” (1 Cor 8:4), sitting at a pagan banquet table had no spiritual impact. They believed their superior theological “knowledge” made them immune to deception. Paul agrees that the stone or wooden statue itself is nothing. However, he reveals that the spiritual forces driving pagan worship are demonic. Participating in the ritual meals directly aligns the believer with dark spiritual realities.  

Paul closes the passage by quoting Deuteronomy 32:21, drawing an explicit parallel to Israel’s rebellion in the wilderness. In the Old Testament, God is described as a “jealous” husband who demands absolute marital fidelity from His covenant people.  By attempting to balance their Christian identity with pagan social habits, the Corinthians were guilty of spiritual adultery, naively assuming they were “strong enough” to handle the spiritual fallout without facing divine judgment.  

Paul’s strict warning in verses 20–21 clarifies that behind the physical idol are spiritual realities. For an Indian Christian, consciously sitting down to participate in a religious ritual worship service (puja) or directly consuming food as an act of devotion to another deity crosses Paul’s boundary line into spiritual compromise.

Indian theologians often draw a line between worship and hospitality. While Paul strictly forbids participating in the actual religious feast (the ritual “table”), he later notes in the same chapter (verses 25–27) that buying meat in the market or eating with non-believing neighbours without raising questions of conscience is permitted. Thus, accepting a sweet from a neighbour as a gesture of goodwill is treated differently than sitting at the altar during a ritual sacrifice.

However, Paul’s text reminds believers that interfaith harmony does not mean theological syncretism. A Christian can participate in the civic and social life of their community (building friendships, celebrating national holidays, serving the poor alongside neighbours of other faiths) without entering into the spiritual union of non-Christian religious rituals.

The ancient Roman world viewed Christians as “atheists” because they refused to honour the local gods alongside Jesus. Similarly, in India, a Christian’s refusal to worship multiple gods can be misunderstood as narrow-mindedness. Verse 22 acts as a protective boundary: it reminds the believer that God demands exclusive covenant loyalty. True faith in Christ cannot be treated as just “one path among many” or integrated into a pluralistic matrix of worship.

We need hospitality without compromise. In India, hospitality is a sacred, deeply embedded cultural value (Atithi Devo Bhava). Refusing food or hospitality can feel like a direct insult. Paul’s warning against the “table of demons” is not a license to be rude, arrogant, or elitist. It calls for deep spiritual discernment wrapped in profound humility.

When neighbours offer festival sweets (prasad), the response should not be one of fear or visible disgust, which damages relationships. Many believers handle this by graciously accepting the gesture of neighbourly love while politely declining direct participation in the ritual itself, navigating the tension with the “gentleness and respect” commanded in 1 Peter 3:15.

It is easy to misread Paul’s call to “shun the worship of idols” as a command to retreat into a Christian ghetto, cutting off contact with the wider society. Christ did not call His followers to be isolated from the world, but to be insulated from its spiritual compromises.

The antidote to participating in the wrong “table” is to deeply invest in the right one. When a church community experiences true, vibrant koinonia (participation) in the body and blood of Christ, the desire to find belonging or spiritual security in civic or pagan rituals naturally fades. Strong Christian community provides the social support system needed to withstand workplace or family pressures.

In the Gospel, Jesus addresses the exact same spiritual crisis that Paul did; the danger of superficial allegiance and the necessity of exclusive, internal transformation. Jesus asks a piercing question: “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you?” He exposes people who use the correct religious vocabulary but refuse absolute operational obedience. You cannot claim Christ as Lord with your mouth while your feet take you to the table of compromise.

Both texts argue that external religious actions are driven by an invisible, internal reality. Jesus explains that a tree’s fruit is determined by its root: “out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.” The heart is a treasury; what is stored inside will inevitably manifest on the outside. If a Christian’s heart is deeply rooted in a shared spiritual union (koinonia) with Christ, their “fruit” will naturally be holiness and distinctiveness. If they bear the “bad fruit” of idolatry, it reveals that their heart’s treasure is still bound to the world.

Both passages use intense warnings to describe what happens when a believer tries to build a life on a flawed foundation. Jesus describes the coming flood. The house built on the sand collapses into “great ruin” because it lacks a deep, rock-solid foundation of active obedience. The Corinthians were building their lives on the “sand” of social convenience, philosophical pride, and syncretism. Paul warns them that this foundation cannot withstand the judgment of a holy God. True safety is found only in the singular foundation of absolute covenant loyalty to Christ.

In a diverse community, neighbours may not read the Bible, but they read the “fruit” of a Christian’s life. Absolute allegiance to Christ (1 Cor) purifies the heart’s treasure, allowing a believer to produce the “good fruit” (Luke) of love, integrity, and genuine community service that honours God before a watching world.

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Faith

Thursday, 23rd week in ordinary time – 10th September 2026 – 1 Cor 8:1b-7 & Luke 6:27-38
 In Corinth, as in other cities of Paul’s day, the public and private worship of the many deities of the Greco-Roman world included animal sacrifices. Slaughterhouses were often located next to temples. Parts of these slain animals would be consumed by the altar fire but the leftovers might either be given to priests or other worshipers or be sold in the market places. Some persons used portions of this consecrated food to give banquets at home or in the temples in honour of a god, and persons were invited to the feast or to eat in communion with the deity.
The question that arose among the Corinthian Christians was, as a believer in Christ, living in Corinth could one buy and eat this meat?
Corinth was known in the first century as the quintessential pagan town, and it would have been difficult for believers in Christ to live in Corinth in a manner completely separate from the world around them. Some Christians at Corinth had a simple solution. They held that the whole range of questions relating to should we eat such meat or not was of no consequence. If one ate or did not eat it he was none the better or the worse (vs. 8). Keep in mind that when Paul deals with the community, he always tries to establish a behaviour that takes into account both, the fact that the believers in Christ live inside the world, but are also clearly separate from it.
In principle, Paul seems to be voicing his basic agreement with the premises of some of the Corinthians that what you eat, even if it is offered to idols is of no consequence because we do not recognise the existence of idols; “no idol in the world really exists, there is no God but one.” (See verse 4).
The Corinthian Christians may have reasoned like this: if idols are really nothing, then it means nothing to eat meat sacrificed to ‘nothing idols’, and it must mean nothing to eat in the buildings used to worship these nothing idols. Paul himself says, “Food will not bring us closer to God. We are no worse off if we do not eat and no better off if we do eat.
However (and this is an important ‘however’) this ‘knowledge’ or this ability to understand, is not understood by all and those who understand this may flaunt it in the face of those who are scandalised by It and become a stumbling block to those Christians who are weak in the faith. (verse9) .
It is clear, that the weak man to whom Paul refers to is the Christian with an uneasy conscience about anything associated with idol worship. To the man of knowledge and understanding, this ‘weak brother or sister’ may appear to be over-scrupulous. The knowledgeable brother may argue that adequate knowledge should dispel once and for all absurd fears. But Paul knows that there were several new converts from paganism to Christianity who could be scandalised by the behaviour of some and misunderstand their act of eating such meat as an act of sacrilege and apostasy.
In principle, Paul says it is not evil for anyone to purchase this idol meat and eat it in one’s home or another’s, but in practice some persons by doing so will be led to relapse into paganism or confusion of the faith. So, Paul makes the principle clearer. Our actions can never be based only on what we know to be right for ourselves. We also need to consider what is right towards our brothers and sisters in Jesus.
It is easy for a Christian to say, “I answer to God and God alone” and to ignore his brother or sister. It is true we will answer to God and God alone, but we will answer to God for how we have treated our brother or sister. So, if our actions are going to cause scandal to our brothers and sisters we should not eat meat offered to idols.
Love must check knowledge because there is always the danger of intellectual pride. Knowledge without empathy creates a toxic hierarchy within a faith community. As Paul outlines elsewhere in this letter, knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. True spiritual maturity is demonstrated not by how much liberty a person can claim, but by how much liberty they are willing to surrender for the sake of another person’s spiritual health.
Also, there are limits of Christian freedom; freedom is not autonomy. Christian liberty is never absolute; it is bounded by the law of love. A believer’s individual rights stop where a brother or sister’s spiritual well-being is jeopardized.
A faith community will always contain a mixture of mature believers and new converts (“weak brothers or sisters”) carrying baggage from their past lives. Pastoral wisdom involves creating an environment where the vulnerable are protected from spiritual whiplash and confusion. What looks like an “absurd fear” to one person might be a genuine battleground of faith and faithfulness for another.
The Gospel of today is a continuation of the ‘Sermon on the Plain’ which is so called because some of the saying of Jesus also found in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel, is found here. What is most definitely different from Matthew’s Gospel is the setting; Jesus does not deliver the sermon on a mount but “has come down with them to a level place” 6:17 and hence is called the ‘sermon on the plain.’
One needs to keep in mind that when Luke writes the Gospel his perspective of an ‘all inclusive’ Jesus shines forth constantly and within this perspective are special focus groups like the poor.  Jesus proclaimed that membership in the “poor of God “was not restricted to an exclusive group. For Luke, those who accept and confess that God’s kingdom is brought about by Jesus on behalf of the “poor of God” or the anawim (Hebrew for the poor) are members of the kingdom.
It is for this reason that today’s Gospel begins with the words, “but I say to you who listen”. It is to the would-be disciples who are willing to listen that these words are addressed. It is these disciples who will face persecution as a consequence of their choice to stand with Jesus and His kingdom. The response of the disciple must be radical so that those who see the disciple’s response of love in the face of violence are left amazed. Being slapped in the face or stripped naked flies in the face of the natural human tendency to place self-protection first. It is for this reason that Luke introduces the theme of love of enemies here and the same theme will pervade this Gospel in several stories dealing with the Samaritans who were the enemies of the Jews.
This radical demand to love one’s enemies includes sharing one’s possessions with them for Jesus says, “give to EVERYONE who begs from you” and “do not demand back from the person who takes them.”  With this in mind Luke brings in the ‘golden rule’ as the jewel in the crown to this teaching on love of enemies. The disciples are to “do to others as they would love others to do unto them.”
This mandate required the disciple to act first, love first forgive first without the hope of “expecting anything in return.” For Luke, only when one “does good”, even though one has not been given anything and only when one expects nothing in return does one get, quite unexpectedly not only “thanks” but also reward from God.
As God stands to the needy world with the gracious gift of salvation, so the disciple should stand to the poor of society in generous open handedness.
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