Breaking Dawn (II Advent B)

The beautiful Bella (Kristen Stewart) of the vampire romance box-office hit Breaking Dawn died delivering her mysterious baby who sucked the life out of her as the baby grew extraordinarily fast in her womb.  On her death, she was terribly emaciated, her beauty was gone.  Edward (Robert Pattinson), the perplexed father of the baby, was forced by the incident to attempt turning Bella into a vampire if only to save their love for each other—a love they promised to keep forever and ever in quite a literal way.  But Bella died.  At the final scene, all who loved Bella were mourning, when suddenly her wounds and bruises healed, her youth and beauty restored.  Finally, as her last act in this episode, she opened her eyes. And they were now different kind of eyes! Watch and see for yourself what kind.

Bella’s opening of her eyes, I think, signals the breaking dawn, the new beginning of a life with Edward and their mysterious baby who is herself a promise of a new beginning. But what is this beginning? What kind of life awaits her? Will it be in the dark, as normally associated with the life of vampires? Should we, the viewers, allow ourselves to be led into this adventure and feel good about it? Aren't we lulled into romanticizing some dark aspects of our lives and begin to accept them uncritically?

The image of a breaking dawn has an advent import.  It allows us to understand that the season of advent ushers in the light which we so yearn for, having been in the darkness of sin.  Advent is a season of new beginnings.  For us Christians, these new beginnings can only mean rejecting the darkness of sin and embracing the light of God's grace.

The gospel today (Mk. 1:1-8) presents once more the great Advent figure, John the Baptist, the herald of the new beginning in the life of humankind as he calls for radical conversion and points us to Jesus Christ the source of new life.  Let us reflect on three related points that spell new beginnings for us today inspired by John’s message and life as presented in the gospel reading.

First, the call to prepare a straight path for the Lord is a call for social transformation.  John the Baptist is presented in Mark’s gospel as the fulfilment of the prophecy of Isaiah.  John is the voice in the desert crying out: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths” (v. 3).  John announces a new beginning for which all has to prepare.  And the preparation entails levelling and making smooth the uneven roads through which the Lord will come.

It’s easy to find resonance between John’s call to make straight paths for the Lord and the campaign of President Aquino’s regime for the “Daang Matuwid.”  PNoy’s campaign is rightly the order of the day; our society has now been known for its crooked ways.  Corruption has crept into almost every fiber of our social existence. One could only cringe at the knowledge that even the Sangguniang Kabataan all over the country has been effectively introduced to corrupt practices particularly in politics. And they are our future leaders!  

The chain of corruption has to be broken if we are to see a new beginning.  Social change, then, has got a lot to do with making straight paths. Whatever this regime is doing to pave a righteous path for Philippine society can well be seen as a moral response to the challenge put forth by the voice crying out in the desert.  We ought to support, then, measures for transparency, accountability, and good governance.   The campaign for “Daang Matuwid” is certainly a gargantuan task.  It’s impossible to assign the responsibility of transformation to one leader.  But the path of righteousness can begin to be realized when everyone heeds the call of the voice in the desert and share the responsibility for change.

Second, the new and hopeful beginnings are wrought by personal change of heart.  Social change requires personal conversion.  John the Baptist, in today’s gospel, knows what is needed in preparing the way of the Lord. He calls for repentance.  He invites people to change their hearts by submitting themselves to baptism, wherein the symbol of the water effects an interior cleansing.  An integral part of John’s baptism is the acknowledgement of sins. Hence, we read that “the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins” (v. 5).  When one confesses his/her sins, the person names his/her sins thus gaining control over its power while at the same time accepting the responsibility.  

Personal conversion involves our decision to be open to God’s power to cleanse us of our sins through his mercy so that we gain the strength to turn away from the ways of this world and to turn to the path of righteousness which is the way of our Lord.  Personal conversion indeed brings new beginning.  Hence, it is an important ingredient of our advent preparations.

Third, the new beginning is towards a life that proclaims the greatness of the Lord. All too often, we claim for ourselves the glory of our achievements. This is the way of the world.  We glorify ourselves with our success, with our skills and talents, with our power, with our wealth.  We struggle to see God as the center of our lives and to see ourselves as humble unworthy servants.

John the Baptist, despite his growing fame and the admiration of his followers, never sees himself as greater than Jesus, the One who is to come.  He assumes a posture of a humble servant or even lower than a servant as he claims unworthiness even to untie the Lord’s sandals. He steadfastly fulfils his mission, which is to prepare for the coming of Christ and to point people to Him.

This advent, we can ask the grace of humility, the kind which inspires us to point to the greatness of God and to live our lives in such ways as to glorify God’s mighty name.

The season of Advent is a season of new beginnings in our lives.  We are invited in this season of grace to open our eyes and get ready for the adventure of a new life, one that is inspired by the message and life of John the Baptist, the great herald of the authentic breaking dawn.

Be Happy, Be BudŐy (33rd Sunday A)

My mother’s puppy needed a name.  Instead of the old-fashioned “Brownie” with which my mom started calling him, I came to the rescue and baptized him with the coolest name ever (next to Joey of course) — BudŐy.

BudŐy is the lead character of a primetime telenovela that revolves around the story of an autistic child born out of the morally contested in vitro fertilization procedure.  BudŐy ends up with a foster mother after he has been rejected by his image-conscious influential family who apparently wants to get rid of the humiliation that his autism might bring.  Despite all these,  BudŐy grows up as a wonderful person who brings with him his contagious joy advising people to “Be happy, be BudŐy!”  He shows his capability for a truly sincere and enriching friendship.  He endears his foster mother with his sensitive love for her.  He inspires his fellow with his dream and drive to become better and little brighter.  He has been deprived of a lot of things in life but he has got what it takes to warm people’s hearts.

This is inspiring. It’s so easy to wallow in the mud of self-pity when life seems to be unfair.  BudŐy stands for a person who has been given less in life but does not succumb to the temptation of defeat.  Instead, he rises above the seeming unfairness of life by capitalizing whatever little he has got.

Today’s gospel is the Parable of the Talents (Mt. 25:14-30). Three servants are entrusted with five, two, and one talent respectively to be invested in the master’s absence.  Talent was the largest unit of currency known at that time.  Other translations render a talent as a thousand silver pieces.  Hence, the first servant is entrusted with five thousand silver pieces, the second with two thousand, the third with one thousand silver pieces.  Today we understand talents as some skills and personal qualities we are gifted with.  While the parable does not intend to legitimize, much less glorify, the inequalities in life, it instructs us about our sense of responsibility especially in view of the final accounting at the end of time.  We are accountable to our Master.  Our accountability is in direct proportion to the abilities with which we have been entrusted. 

Much is expected from whom much is given.  Hence, the master in the parable is happy with the first two servants who manage to double the amount they have entrusted with. But while the master does not expect much from him who has been given very little, he still expects at least whatever enterprising spirit that could be harnessed with whatever little resources made available.  Hence, the third servant who just buried his talent out of his negative notion of his master is rightly met with his master’s anger and punishment.

Despite a long history of struggle for social revolution, the world remains the same.  The divide between the haves and have-nots are gaping still like a wide sarcastic smile taunting the sacrifices made by agents of change in the name of egalitarian ideals.  The more the disparity becomes glaring today when the name of the game is global competition.  Only the haves can possibly compete.  The have-nots are marginalized.  Will we ever live to see the ideals of equality actually put in place? Certainly not in this generation.  But we continue to hope.

The hope for change begins in our hearts.  We can better speak of a revolution from the heart.  To the haves, those given with a lot more “talents” than the others, in the spirit of the parable’s message of accountability, the revolution begins by dismantling all inner value systems that support an insatiable individualistic greed.  From its rubble, the haves are morally obligated to put up the value systems of social responsibility, equitable justice, and even charity.  Without this interior change, any attempt for structural change in this world will most likely end up with new external forms but with the same old vicious intentions.

To the have-nots, the inner change will have to begin with dismantling the defeatist outlook that subscribes to the helpless consignment of the poor and the less fortunate to their pitiful plight forever and ever.  The have-nots have to believe in their dignity, have to strengthen self-respect, and harness their innate capacity to rise above this seeming unfairness of life.  God is not happy with “worthless, lazy lout.”

But God must be very proud of BudŐy. 

The Quest (17th Sunday A)

Three years ago I started to write a blog sharing my reflections on the Sunday liturgical readings.  I entitled it Pearl of Great Price in direct reference to today’s gospel reading (Mt. 13: 44-46). Needless to say, the parable of the pearl of great price is significant to me.  Hence, I would like to share what it is to me hoping others would also find spiritual inspiration from it.

“Again, the Kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it” (vv. 45-46).

Life is a search.  Always we search for the good like the merchant searching for fine pearls.  Oftentimes we have the feeling that the search is endless.  Our hearts are never satisfied by what we find.  One day we feel like we’re happy with what we have; only to find out another day that we’re losing interest in it and we’re eyeing another object of our excitement.

 I finally bought a digital camera after a long and arduous process of canvassing making sure I got what I wanted.  I started taking pictures which brought me as far as China! But after a while, I felt like I needed something more powerful to allow me to take more pictures as candid

 as possible without the subject noticing it.  To cut the long story short, I got a camera with 12X optical-zoom specification which allowed me to shoot from afar.  What I didn’t understand was, when I already had it and even as I brought it with me anywhere, I lost interest in taking pictures altogether!  What I wanted to do was to pose!

There is one discovery in life though that liberates us from this pointless meandering search. It is the discovery of the pearl of God’s love. When we experience in our life the love of God, we gain a new perspective. Everything else that we deemed valuable and even essential takes a relative significance. A person who has in his or her heart the love of God no longer clings to whatever possession for he or she knows now what is truly essential. A person who discovers the pearl of God’s love sells all that he or she has in order to possess the one thing that the human heart truly longs. In the words of St. Therese of Avila: Quien a Dios tiene, nada le falta. Solo Dios basta ( He who has God does not lack anything. God is enough).

Interestingly, for the spiritual writer Henri Nouwen, the search of the human heart still does not stop at the discovery of the treasure of God’s love.  On the contrary, finding God is the beginning of a true and deeper search for God.  But this time, we know what we truly ache for—the only necessary thing.

Let me share Henri Nouwen’s words hoping they would make your hearts smile too in joyful agreement. Culled from The Only Necessary Thing:

“You can be truly happy that you have found the treasure. But you should not be so naive as to think that you already own it.... Having found the treasure puts you on a new quest for it. The spiritual life is a long and often arduous search for what you have already found. You can seek God only when you have already found God. The desire for God’s unconditional love is the fruit of having been touched but that love.”

“Because finding the treasure is only the beginning of the search, you have to be careful. If you expose the treasure to others without fully owning it, you might harm yourself and even lose the treasure. A newfound love needs to be nurtured in a quiet, intimate space. Overexposure kills it.... Finding the treasure without being ready yet to fully own it will make you restless. This is the restlessness of the search for God. “

Wow. What more can I say?

Maybe to sum up the point:  There are two levels of searching—one for the useless things and another for the only necessary thing.  Both seem to propel us to restlessness. The former elicits restlessness because of the growing emptiness that gnaws at our being. The latter makes us restless because we can’t wait to fully possess what truly matters—the pearl of God’s love.

What search makes me restless?

Let's See What We See (15th Sunday A)

“Let’s see what we see.” This is a favourite expression of Virgil, a blind character played by Val Kilmer in the 1999 movie, At First Sight.  It’s quite amusing to hear a blind man say this, knowing of course that he cannot see. I think there’s deliberate humour in it that tips off a capacity for a different kind of sight. 

Virgil, a masseur, was blind since age three. He met Amy in one his massage sessions.  Amy, a divorcee, fell for him because he helped her to truly hear and sense the world giving her new spirit and a burst of creativity.  Amy took Virgil to New York for a radical eye surgery which proved to be successful but only for a while. Virgil regained his sight but eventually lose it again due to retinal disease.

There is so much insight into the gift of seeing revealed by Virgil’s struggle to make sense of the new images that overwhelmed him after the surgery.  His eyes could see images but could not give meaning to them.  Learning how to see things meaningfully with his eyes was as painstaking as learning how to speak for the first time.  Later, after his short-lived adventure with sight, he would testify that he was better-off without his sight.  He was better off in “seeing” what was real in the world without his eyes. What a paradox!

This has reminded me of the often-quoted book of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince: "What is essential is invisible to the eye. It is only through the heart that one sees rightly."  Virgil saw what was real not through his eyes but through his heart.  

Healthy eyes are not a guarantee of profound vision.  On the other hand, a blind man, with a sensitive and receptive heart, can actually say with humour and integrity, “Let’s see what we see.”

Today’s gospel (Mt. 13: 1-23) does not just tell a parable, it also tackles the Lord’s reason for using it. There’s so much to learn from the parable of the sower, but I wish to reflect on the reason given by Jesus when asked why he employs parables.  Jesus’ answer has everything to do with seeing and listening as he says:

“I use parables when I speak to them because they look but do not see, they listen but do not hear or understand... Sluggish indeed is this people’s heart... But blest are your eyes because they see and blest are your ears because they hear” (Mt. 13: 14-16)

The parables of Jesus are meant to enlighten us about intangible truths (the mysteries of the Kingdom, for instance) using metaphors culled from day-to-day life.  But it seems that the parables also become a hindrance to seeing the truth and a punishment to those with “sluggish heart” who faithlessly refuse to accept the message of God.

Jesus is challenging us to see with our heart.  Seeing with the heart allows us to grasp with clarity the essentials in life as the Lord has revealed them. 

But all too often we don’t see clearly.  Without trying to be exhaustive, I submit the following hindrances to real and meaningful seeing:

First, our habit of looking away.  Again, in At First Sight, when he was able to see, Virgil observed with astonishment that people look away.  Unbelievable! They don’t actually look with intent.  This can mean they don’t want to face realities about themselves and others squarely. Virgil concluded that the problem with sighted people is that they go on with life without seeing their real selves.  Ouch!  Do we just glance through the superficialities of life? And avoid confronting what really matters to our lives?

Second, our habit of turning a blind eye.  Most of the time, we are confronted with hard realities in life, personal, social or realities within our families, things that matter most but are calling for change.  We actually see but we just don’t care enough.  We don’t want to get involved.  So even if the truth summons for radical change, we go on life as if we have seen nothing wrong and pretend that everything’s fine.  We turn a blind eye in order to spare ourselves from the obligation to move out of our comfort zones.

Third, our “sluggish heart.”  Lazy, slow, listless, slothful, lethargic heart.  This is what Jesus sees, in today’s gospel, as the fundamental hindrance to profound seeing and understanding.  A person with a lazy heart does not see beyond what meets the eye.  He or she does not reflect.  Life for such a person is all about flashy externalities and frenzied activities devoid of depths and meaningful connections.  Such a person does not notice the “parables” embedded into the stories of his day-to-day life.  A sluggish heart refuses to see the hand of God in the events of life.

It’s so true; only through the heart that one sees clearly what is essential.  A blind man’s receptive disposition despite the total darkness that envelops his world puts into question not just our capacity to see with our eyes but essentially the openness of our hearts.

Today’s gospel again is an invitation to see clearly what truly matters in life. It invites us to shake off our superficiality, our cowardice, and our heart’s laziness and complacency.  Jesus is more like a blind man gently grabbing us by the arm and inviting us for a walk as he says with a smile, “Let’s see what we see.”

Receive the Holy Spirit (Pentecost Sunday C)

I recall an anecdote about the Holy Spirit: A Christian missionary was struggling to explain to a new-found Japanese friend the mystery of the Trinity, hoping to lead him to embrace the Christian life. After long hours of exchange, the Japanese was nodding... He declared, “The Father... makes sense!” He paused and continued to nod and finally pronounced, “The Son... makes sense!” Then he took a long while and, with a quizzical look, said, “What does not make sense...” He paused and quite tentatively continued as if whispering, “...is the dove.”

Among the persons of the Trinity, the representation of the Holy Spirit is the least clear to many of us. Of course, the nature of the third person, as Spirit, poses a great difficulty for representation. Thus, in contrast to the personal images of the Father and Jesus Christ, we are forced to represent the Holy Spirit through impersonal symbols like fire, wind, breath, water, and the “favoured” dove. This difficulty might contribute to the uncertainty, if not ignorance, among many of us Christians about recognizing the activity of the Spirit in our lives.

The Solemnity of Pentecost may be an opportunity for us to “get to know” the dove or the tongues of fire a little deeper and hence to allow his power to operate in our lives. Today’s readings, first, second and the Gospel, lend themselves to our need to recognize the work of the Holy Spirit. The readings, as I will endeavour to show, reveal the Holy Spirit as the principle of empowerment. The Spirit empowers us from deep within, enabling us to live out our Christian calling—as prophet, king, and priest.

The Holy Spirit and our Prophetic Mission. The first reading (Acts 2:1-11), where we are told of the Spirit’s descent upon the Apostles in the form of tongues of fire, recounts how the Holy Spirit emboldened the Apostles to speak of “the mighty acts of God” to all peoples. Hiding because of fear, the nervous apostles were empowered by the Holy Spirit at Pentecost to go out of hiding and confidently proclaim the greatness of God revealed in the person of Christ. The Spirit enabled them to be the prophets that Jesus had called them to become.

The Spirit empowers us to proclaim the truth about God’s work in our lives. There’s something about the charismatic groups that I have brushed elbows with. Their bold testimonies of the work of God in their lives amaze me. In contrast, most Catholics, I observe, are timid about their spiritual lives in general. Many are shy to proclaim what God has done in their lives; or more to the point, many are perhaps not even cognizant of the work of God.

Am I timid, shy, or fearful in proclaiming God’s mighty acts in my life? Let me ask the Holy Spirit to embolden me and turn me into a joyful and fearless herald of the Good News to my family, friends, and to the society.

The Holy Spirit and our Kingly Mission. The call to serve is essential to the concept of Christian kingship. Service or ministry is a gift of the Spirit. The second reading (1 Cor. 12: 3-7, 12-13) shows how St. Paul recognized the diversity of gifts and charisms flowing from the same Spirit. These gifts and charisms are meant to unify and strengthen the one body of Christ, the community of believers , the Church. The Holy Spirit then, with his manifold gifts, empowers us to serve in many and varied capacities.

The parish life is a beautiful illustration of this truth. When a pastor is attuned to the gifts of the Spirit in the community, his leadership brings out the best in all its members even among the poor who become dependable committed community leaders. The parish becomes a community of servant-leaders. Oftentimes I would have goose bumps listening to these small communities singing their hearts out, “Parianong lungsod, harianong lungsod... awit pasalamat tibuok nasud.” Oftentimes, the empowering presence of the Holy Spirit in the community is just too palpable to miss.

What gifts and charisms am I endowed with? This is the Holy Spirit’s way of enabling me to serve the community. In what way do I fulfil my kingly mission? In short, in what way do I serve?

The Holy Spirit and our Priestly Mission. Prayer and forgiveness are at the heart of the priestly mission. Both can only be done authentically in the Spirit. The second reading reminds us: “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor. 12:13). Our prayers, if they are to be authentic, have to be inspired by the Spirit. How often we feel that our prayers and liturgical celebrations are mere recitations of formulas and mechanical sequence of gestures born out of habit! Transformative prayers and touching liturgies are way beyond human habits. They are the fruits of the inspiration of the Spirit. They are the expressions of a human heart whose longing is intensified by the Spirit.

Forgiveness too, they say, is a divine activity. But the Spirit empowers the human to forgive. This is crystal clear in today’s gospel (Jn. 20: 19-23): “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them...” It is from here that the Church’s ministry of reconciliation flows. It is from here that I can forgive, to my amazement, an otherwise unforgiveable offense committed against me and the community. It is because of the Spirit that a hardened heart can gradually listen, understand, and finally forgive.

So, as we celebrate Pentecost today, let us recognize the work of the Holy Spirit in us and allow him to empower us to become Christ’s true disciples. Let us allow the Spirit to turn us into bold prophets announcing with joy the greatness of the Lord, into humble kings who serve one another untiringly, into prayerful priests who are agents of peace and forgiveness in this increasingly broken world.