Do not be Afraid. Have faith. (13th Sunday Ordinary B)

In the movie, First Knight, the free-spirited and bohemian character who lived by the sword, Lancelot, fearlessly rescued from the attack of the soldiers of the ex-Round Table Knight, Malagant, the beautiful and attractive Lady Guinevere who was betrothed to the King.  Lancelot was immediately taken in by Guinevere’s beauty. So in another occasion, Lancelot displayed his wanton bravery when he nonchalantly made it through the Gauntlet, a seemingly-impossible obstacle course set up for amusement by the King. His aim was to impress Lady Guinevere and to get closer to her.  By King Arthur’s invitation, Lancelot became one of the Round Table Knights.  The secret mutual attraction between Lancelot and the Queen continued to grow.  The free-spirited Lancelot began to learn how to care and love.  When the King was forced to go to battle one last time to defend the city of Camelot against Malagant, Lancelot, for the first time, experienced fear.  This time, he was very afraid of death because he was in love.

Aren’t we all afraid of death?  Looking at it without the eyes of faith, death can represent the tragic nature of human existence. We unconsciously avoid confronting the issue of death; we just ignore it and wish it away. When at last we muster our courage to come to terms with it, we are faced with the problem of the meaning of life altogether.  What is the point of living when by all indications we are condemned to die?  The famous Existentialist Erich Fromm, for instance, noted that at the time a person is born, he already begins to die and he always dies before he is fully born.  At birth, man begins to suffer and he will suffer until he dies.  And what makes life tragic and suffering unbearable is that an individual usually dies before his loved ones or they before him and there is no comfort in either case except pain and suffering.

Without faith in God, the origin and destiny of life, we are left with fear.  We fear our own death and, more so, that of our loved ones.  Without faith, we fear that life itself is pointless.

In today’s gospel reading (Mk 5:21-43), Jesus assures us of the triumph of life over death and suffering.  He is the answer to the riddle of our human existence.  Jesus cures the woman with a haemorrhage and restores the life of the daughter of Jairus.  These two connected incidents portray Jesus’ immersion into the suffering of human existence.  He is amid a large crowd hoping for some kind of help or relief from the different faces of suffering.  One of these is the woman who has been afflicted with haemorrhages for twelve years. The other is the synagogue official, Jairus, who is tormented by the prospect of the death of his 12-year old daughter.  Jesus is right there in the midst of the crowd’s search for hope, for meaning, for life.  And Jesus responds in accordance to the faith of those who come to him.

To the woman freed from prolonged haemorrhagic sufferings, Jesus says: “Daughter, your faith has saved you.”  To Jairus who is greeted with the sad news of the death of his daughter, Jesus says: “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” And He restores the life of the child.

Only with the eyes of faith that we can grasp the ultimate beauty of life—that life is not just pure pointless suffering that culminates in death; that life is our destiny in eternity; that the abundance of life with God is our ultimate fate. 

Today’s readings invite us not to be afraid.  But to trust in God and have faith.  Jesus makes good of the assurance of the book of Wisdom that “God did not make death nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living…. That God formed man to be imperishable; the image of his own nature he made him” (Wis 1:13-23).  Death is the work of the devil and Jesus has overcome its power by his own death and resurrection.  Jesus is our salvation. Jesus is our life.

“Do not be afraid. Have faith.” We can make this our mantra when we feel we are being overcome by doubt and fear amid the sufferings and seeming contradictions in life.  To trust in God, the God of the living, allows us to embrace life to its fullest, freed from the unnecessary torment of the prospect of dying. To be unafraid sets us free to be joyful in serving, unreserved in self-giving, quick in forgiving, and courageous in loving.

With faith in Jesus, life prevails and has a beautiful eternal purpose. And even our physical death can be something beautiful. In the words of Mother Teresa of Calcutta: Death, in the final analysis, is only the easiest and quickest means to go back to God. If only we could make people understand that we come from God and that we have to go back to Him!

Again, we listen to the words of Jesus who reassures us: “Do not be afraid. Have faith.”

Awesome God (12th Sunday Ordinary B)

Mass on a boat @ the Sea of Galilee

Celebrating the Holy Eucharist on a boat at the Sea of Galilee was my most cherished experience during my pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Being actually there gave me a taste of the locale of the many encounters between Jesus and his disciples who were mostly fishermen. The Sea of Galilee is said to be at once serene and terrifying. It can be very quiet at one moment and violent at another. What I experienced in my pilgrimage is the quiet moment. Thanks be to God!

But in the Gospel reading today, the Sea of Galilee displays the violence of its squalls, which arise and subside rapidly and unpredictably due to its peculiar geographical situation—It is located at the bottom of a long funnel created by rows of mountains to the north. The wind travels anytime through this funnel formation and bursts onto the sea creating violent waves. It is in such terrifying moment that we now see, in the gospel reading, the disciples of Jesus experiencing tremendous fear and sense of fragility.

The gospel and the rest of the readings for today, depicting the intimidating force and power that lurk in the sea, would have us reflect on the fact of our helplessness at times and the awesome power of God over his creation.

The Cry of Helplessness. Few situations leave men so helpless and despairing as storms at sea. This experience of utter helplessness is what today's Psalm tries to express:

“For he spoke and stirred up a tempest that lifted high the waves. They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths; in their peril their courage melted away. They reeled and staggered like drunkards; they were at their wits’ end. Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble…” (Ps 107: 25-28).

In the Gospel, Jesus was in the stern asleep on a cushion while the boat was already filled with water because of the big waves and the disciples were becoming frenzy, fearing for their lives. So they woke him up and cried out: “Master, don’t you care if we drown?” (Mk. 4: 40).

How come that Jesus allowed himself to fall asleep just when things were getting really tough and scary for his followers? Most probably He was allowing the storm to rage and by doing so He was evoking the sense of utter helplessness among his disciples. He wanted them to realize their total dependence on God.

In life, we face so many storms. It may be the painful illness and gradual deterioration of a loved one, the death of a beloved child, the breaking of the family due to infidelity of a spouse, damage caused by a family member's addictions, loss of an important job and financial ruin, etc. Many times, we question God for his seeming silence amid all these tempests in life. Perhaps, God plays asleep. Not because He doesn’t give a damn. But because He wants us to see our limitations and embrace our helplessness so that when we turn to Him, we seek him ardently as our only hope.

What storm are you facing right now? Know that it may be an invitation for you to accept your helplessness and run to God with trust and hope.

Awed by God’s Might. When we have come to terms with our helplessness in the face of so many storms in life, we begin to discover the greatness of God’s might saving us. In the first reading (Job 38: 1, 8-11), Yahweh broke his silence in response to the complaints of Job about all the “storms” that wrecked him.

God answers by reminding him that the Lord is master even of those storms, that he controls and limits them according to his omnipotent wisdom. The sea, in the Old Testament, because of its mystery, power, and unpredictability, was often used as a symbol for evil and chaos. But God tells Job that he has "set limits for it, and fastened the bar of its door." God doesn't explain to Job all the reasons behind everything he does and permits. Without much explanation, God simply reminds Job that He is all-powerful.

Similarly, in the gospel reading, Jesus faced the raging storm and rebuked it as he does to any evil spirit. He ordered the sea to be quiet and still. Indeed, the wind dropped and there was a great calm. The disciples were awed by what they witnessed:

“That a mere word from the Lord reins in nature's primeval brawn shocks the helpless fishermen even more than the stormy sea had frightened them just moments before. They had seen the Lord's miracles, they had heard his wisdom, they had witnessed his power over the human heart. But to see the most unruly powers that flow through the bowels of the universe submit like a well-trained golden retriever - this was a lordship they had not yet even conceived of; this is the lordship of our God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” ( Excerpt from"The Better Part: A Christ-Centered Resource for Personal Prayer").

May we experience too the mighty works of God and be awed by his power as He saves us from the storms of our lives. Never again should we doubt the power of God.

Our Invitation. When life's storms batter us, our families, and our communities, we are invited to act as the Apostles did in today's Gospel: to go to Jesus, waking him up with our cry of helplessness, and to place our total confidence in him, through our sincere, heart-to-heart prayer. Then trust that we will experience the awesome power of God saving us lovingly from the storms.

Faith in Small Acts (11th Sunday Ordinary B)

Archbishop Oscar Romero’s poem, “A Future Not Our Own,” never fails to revive my sometimes disheartened spirit.  The powerful words of this martyr, I believe, make for an excellent meditation on today’s gospel message concerning the Kingdom of God which is couched in the two parables of the seed.  Let me share his words and then comment on the two parables.

It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No programme accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,

an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.

Today’s gospel reading (Mk 4:26-34) presents two parables—the seed sown growing of itself and the mustard seed turning into the largest of plants.  Amid the persecutions being experienced by the early Christians, both parables offer reassurance and evoke trust in God.

The first parable, describing how the seed grows by itself, that is, independent of the farmer, points clearly to the hidden power that supports the growth and development of the Kingdom of God.  The parable gently reminds us that, ultimately, it is God who brings success and completion to our work. God is the master builder, we are only workers.   We cannot but agree with Archbishop Romero that there is a sense of liberation in realizing this.  When we truly accept this truth, we are freed from our messianic complex; we are liberated from our compulsion to do it our way.

Yes, we are humbled.  But we have to face it, a lot of things we are called to do in life is beyond us, beyond our efforts, beyond our vision.  We cannot do it solely on our human powers.  We need to trust in God who acts in mysterious ways. The more we trust in God, the more we liberate ourselves from restless anxieties.

If you cannot sleep at night tossing yourself from one side of the bed to the other because of worries, chances are you have not allowed God to be the Master builder and you have assumed for yourself God’s portion of the job.   Actually, we all can be truly dedicated to our work and live a serene life if only we trust in God.  A familiar adage contains the secret to peaceful and restful nights:  “Work as if everything depended on you.  But pray as if everything depended on God.”  Try it and say goodbye to sleepless nights.

The second parable—that of the tiny mustard seed—brings home another reassuring point:  All great things have humble beginnings.  Conversely, the seemingly insignificant initiatives we do for God’s Kingdom can, in God’s time, flourish into something of great import—just as the mustard seed, the smallest of all seeds, once sown, springs up and becomes the largest of plants and puts forth large branches so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade (Mk 4: 32).

This encourages us to be committed to do something albeit insignificant it may seem to human eyes at first.  This gives us confidence despite our smallness.  This allows us to believe in the importance of first small steps.   An ordinary citizen, for instance, can have faith in his small acts of honesty to make a difference in terms of transforming our corrupt institutions and systems. 

How often we succumb to the temptation of not doing the right things because all the others are doing otherwise! We need to listen to Jesus’ parable. The parable of the mustard seed awakens in us faith in the potentials of our initiatives for God’s Kingdom however small these may seem.  Again, in Archbishop Romero’s words:

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,

an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.

May the words of this martyred bishop and the parables of the seed enkindle in our hearts the fire of our commitment to the reign of God in our midst.  May we be reassured of the value of what we do in life even if we do not get to see its fulfilment in our lifetime.  May we be liberated from the excesses of both our messianic complex, on the one hand, and our defeatist tendencies and apathy, on the other.

This is My Body, This is My Blood (Corpus Christi B)

Once upon a time, in the heart of the Western Kingdom lay a beautiful garden where a gracious and noble Bamboo Tree was the centre of attraction and was the delight of the Master’s heart.  But one day the Master approached the beautiful bamboo tree:

Master: “Bamboo, Bamboo, I would use you.”

Bamboo answered with delight: “Master, I am ready.  Use me as you wish.”   

Master: (With a grave voice)”I need to take you, and cut you down!”

A trembling of great horror shook Bamboo:  “Cut me down?  Me?  Did you not make me the most beautiful in your entire garden? Why cut me down?  Use me for joy, oh!  Master, But cut not me down!”

The voice of the Master was graver still: “Beloved Bamboo, if I do not cut you down, I cannot use you.” Bamboo slowly bent his glorious head and whispered with pain:   “Master, if you cannot use me without cutting me down, then, do your will and cut me down.”

The Master said:  “Bamboo, beloved Bamboo, I would cut your leaves and your branches also.” Bamboo pleaded: “Master, Master, spare me.  Cut me down and lay my beauty in the dust, but do not take away from me my leaves and my branches also!”  

The master whispered: “Bamboo, alas! If I cut not them away, I cannot use you!”  Bamboo shivered in terrible expectancy, and then whispering low, said:  “Master, cut them away!”  The Master added with a crying voice:  “Bamboo, beloved Bamboo, I would yet cleave you in two halves and cut out your heart; for, if I cut you not, I cannot use you!”  Then, Bamboo bowed to the ground and softly whispered:  “Master, Master, then cut and cleave. I’m yours!”

So did the Master of the Garden take Bamboo and cut him down and hack off his branches and strip off his leaves, and cleave him in two and cut his heart.  And lifting him gently carried him to where there was a spring of fresh, sparkling water in the midst of his dry fields. Then, putting one end of the Broken Bamboo in the spring and the other end into the water channel in his field, the Master laid down gently his beloved Bamboo.

 And the clear sparkling waters of the spring raced joyously down the channel of Bamboo’s torn body into the waiting thirsty fields. Then the rice was planted and the days went by and the shoots grew and the harvest came and hungry mouths had their fill.

In that day, Bamboo, once so glorious in his stately beauty, was yet more glorious in his brokenness and humility. In his beauty he was life abundant, but in his brokenness he became a channel of abundant life to his Master's world.  (Adapted from a story from the Book of Songs of Waley).

This bitter-sweet allegory of sacrifice reminds us of Jesus’ own poignant act of perfect self-offering.  The Lord laid down his life on the cross in order for us to have the abundance of eternal life.   And in order for us to participate in the same salvific event  of his sacrifice, He memorialized his act at the last supper as He pronounced the bread his body and the cup of wine his blood.

Today is the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ.  This celebration gives us the opportunity to appreciate the great gift of his Body and Blood or the Eucharist.  One way to appreciate this gift is to see it as today’s readings would have us do:  To see the celebration of the Eucharist as sacrificial.

The first reading (Ex 24:3-8) recounts the ratification of the covenant between God and His people Israel by the offering of holocausts and animal sacrifices whose blood Moses splashed on the altar and sprinkled on the people as “the blood of the covenant.” In the old covenant, animals were used as sacrifice for peace offering.

In the second reading (Heb 9:11-15), Christ is now the high priest who achieved eternal redemption not with the blood of goats and calves but with his own blood. “For if the blood of goats and bulls and the sprinkling of a heifer’s ashes can sanctify those who are defiled so that their flesh is cleansed, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal spirit offered himself up unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from dead works to worship the living God!” (v. 13). In the new covenant, Jesus becomes the sacrifice himself offering his own blood once and for all for eternal redemption.

The Gospel of Mark (Mk 14: 12-16, 22-26) portrays Jesus in the upper room celebrating the final Passover meal with his disciples.  This event of the last supper memorialized his sacrifice on the cross by offering his body and blood: “Take this,” he said, “this is my body.” He likewise took a cup, gave thanks and passed it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them: “This is my blood, the blood of the covenant, to be poured out on behalf of many” (vv. 23-24).

Hence, our celebration of the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ allows us to reflect on the sacrificial character of the Eucharist. And every time we participate in the celebration of the Eucharist, we participate in the same sacrificial and saving act of Jesus.  Our participation invites us to be like Christ himself who offered himself up in perfect obedience to the Father and in total self-giving love.

Many times we do not heed the will of the Father and we refuse to give of ourselves for the sake of others because we give in to our natural orientation for self-preservation.  We tend to protect ourselves; hence, we don’t find the act of sacrifice appealing.  May our devotion to the Eucharist give us the grace to transcend our egoistic tendencies.

Like the noble Bamboo in the story, we cannot be used by God if we don’t allow him to cut us down, hack off our branches, strip off our leaves, and cleave us in two and cut our heart.  Like Jesus, we can only bring life to others when we are willing to give up ourselves.  Jesus gave up all for us: “Take this... this is my body... this is my blood.”