Cravings and Satisfaction (18th Sunday Ordinary B)

Down South, Bubba called his attorney and asked, "Is it true they're suin' the cigarette companies for causing people to get cancer?

"Yes, Bubba, sure is true,” responded the lawyer.

"And now someone's suin' them fast food restaurants for making 'em fat and cloggin' their hearts with all them burgers and fries, is that true mister lawyer?"

"Sure is Bubba. But why you asking?"

"Cause what I want to know is, I was thinkin' can I sue Budweiser for all them ugly women I've slept with?"

We may take offense at Bubba’s sexist undertones but more to the point is how the conversation reveals the folly of indulging in our cravings and then blaming others for the harm and meaninglessness it brings to our life.

This generation that pampers and glorifies the body is more likely a reaction to the generation of ascetics. While the generations before exercised self-denial, lived an austere lifestyle, and even “punished” the body for greater spiritual freedom, today, our generation has developed a proclivity to bodily pleasure and physical satisfaction. We eat, drink, smoke, and indulge in sex to our heart’s content. Or the more health conscious among us show extra care for the body by taking whatever food supplements available. The vain among us, moreover, are just happy to spend their fortune for cosmetic applications and procedures if only to enhance and maintain their beautiful looks. We search for satisfaction and we seem to hope to find it by way of physical gratification.

But the fact is we are never satisfied. We end up feeling emptier despite the clutter with which we have bombarded our selves, more hungry and enslaved by stronger cravings than when we started out the quest for satisfaction.

Jesus, in today’s gospel (Jn 6: 24-35), chided the crowd that have been following him. They were following him for the wrong reason--for satisfaction of bodily hunger. They had partaken of the loaves miraculously multiplied by Jesus. Now they were following him for more bread! Jesus pointed this out to them as he said, “You are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled” (v. 26).

Jesus, wishing to lead them to the real meaning of the signs, continued addressing them and said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger” (v. 35). Jesus is the bread who truly satisfies us. This is the meaning of the miracle. It is He, Jesus, who satisfies not just our physical hunger but more deeply our spiritual hunger. Jesus is asking us to follow him not for more miracles of bread for the hungry stomach. He is asking us to follow HIM, the bread of life. His way of life is what satisfies our human existence truly. Discipleship offers us true meaning in life.

Our problem today is much similar to that of the crowd following Jesus. We don’t take notice of our spiritual hunger as much as we do our physical cravings. We spend our money, energy, and time much on food, drinks, sex, cosmetics, food supplements and whatever gives us immediate but temporary gratification. But how much do we invest for our spiritual needs and longing?

What is tricky though is that even when we believe we are into spiritual things we may still be suffering from profound spiritual handicap. For instance, as Charles Ringma noted (in the Dare to Journey with Henri Nouwen) many of the renewal movements that offer a ‘life in the Spirit’ do not produce “a depth of spirituality with a vision for God, a strength of personal character, a passion for God’s Kingdom of justice and mercy, and a prayer life which expresses itself in costly discipleship and servanthood. Life in the Spirit has often become a comfortable self-seeking and ‘me-centered’ form of spirituality which emphasizes joy, but knows little about growth through trial and difficulty.”

Hence, while we think we are spiritually filled, we may in fact be empty-handed much like the crowd following Jesus for the sake of self-interested blessings. Our spiritual hunger persists because we are fed with bread other than Jesus himself.

What’s the invitation then? It is to attend to our spiritual longing by ‘feeding’ on the Bread of Life, Jesus Christ. This of course reminds us of our participation in the sacrament of the Eucharist where we receive Jesus, the Lord, through the signs of the bread and wine. Do we nourish our spiritual hunger by our meaningful celebration of the Eucharist?

But beyond the sacramental celebration though, the invitation is for us to allow Jesus to dwell in us and let our lives be transformed into the kind that Jesus demands of us. In other words, beyond the sacramental participation, or more appropriately, along with it, is the invitation to real discipleship.

A satisfying life necessarily has to move beyond physical and temporary gratification of our hungers which paradoxically leads to a deeper emptiness. A fully satisfying life is that which is driven by a spirituality—one that is God-centered, passionate for God’s Kingdom of justice, peace and love. It is a spirituality of ‘costly discipleship’—following not merely for the bread and for the sake of the blessings but following Jesus HIMSELF, his way of life characterized by service and self-giving.

The Lonely God of Miracles (17th Sunday Ordinary B)

I recall a story in my childhood. It’s about the lonely God whose love and friendship was unrequited. The story goes something like this:

Upon a mountain top there lived a kind and gentle God.  He was lonely because people down the village did not mind him. They were all too busy and preoccupied with their books, their many games, and endless meetings.

Day by day the lonely God looked down upon the villagers wanting very much to be their friend. He thought one day, “I must let them know I care.” So each day, he sent a messenger to the village, a pack upon his back, and in the pack are special gifts for every people in the village.

Each day the people ran with open arms to gather the gifts. But soon they grew quite used to being gifted. Some began to grab gifts from the pack, and some even took more than they were meant to have.  Later, people grabbed their gifts and started comparing with one another and complained: “Why is his gift better than mine?!” “This is unfair!” They quarreled over the gifts and, at last, no one remembered from where the gifts had come.

Far up on his mountain top sat God. Day after lonely day he waited for a friendly word, a sign of thanks, a gesture of acknowledgment that he is remembered. But nothing came.  The people waited and quarreled over the gifts but not a single villager ever remembered the God who cared and loved them.

Such is the parable of the lonely God.  In my childhood, with misty eyes I listened to the story wanting so much to go up to the mountain top and give him a hug.

Many times we receive the gift but lose sight of the Giver. This is sad and tragic. God is a God of relationship. He offers his friendship to us. All He desires is for us to experience his great love in that loving relationship with him.  But all too often we get attached to the created things and love these blessings instead of the Creator who offers his love.

Already in the Old Testament, God is revealed as the God of the covenant: “I am your God and you will be my people.” He is a God whose primary concern is to forge a loving relationship with his people. In the New Testament, Jesus manifests the ultimate love of God for his people. He affirms the covenant in an absolute way: “This is my body… This is my blood… the cup of the new and everlasting covenant… Take this… When you do this, remember me.” In Jesus, God gives himself. Not just any other gifts.

Today’s gospel (Jn 6: 1-15) depicts Jesus being followed by a vast crowd because of his power to do miracles. In this gospel episode, Jesus multiplies the five loaves of bread and two fish in order to feed five thousand people. But right after the apostles collected the left over, Jesus withdraws to the mountain alone because the crowd are coming to him to carry him off and make him their king (vv.13-15).

Why does Jesus withdraw? Because the people are after the gifts and not the Giver. They are after the benefits of the miracle and not the God who loves them. Or at most, they want the god of their expectations—the god who will provide for their needs according to their own terms. The god they can manipulate to their advantage.

To hold the people spellbound and astounded by some magical display of power is not the reason why Jesus has performed miracles. His miracles are meant to reveal the love of God—the God who cares… the God who longs to be loved in return.

Now that people seek the benefits of the miracles oblivious of the great love of God for them, Jesus withdraws to the mountain alone. Maybe, shaking his head and feeling lonely.

How often do we also fall into the same trap of wanting the gift and not the giver… of worshiping the god of our expectations and not the God of love himself!

How often we tend to experience a sudden surge of faith in the face of miracles but fail to notice the constant love of God in ordinary events of life!

How much of our prayers is the sort that twists God’s arm for things we need? How less and less do we spend time praying just to be in the loving presence of God? No words… no things to ask… no agenda to advocate… just to “be…” relishing God’s love and responding to it in our hearts.

Next time we pray, let us see to it that we express our love to God. Or maybe, in a contemplative mood, imagine giving God a hug.

Sharpening the Saw (16th Sunday Ordinary B)

I chanced upon this story years ago. I’m not sure now of its source.

A man was struggling in the woods to saw down a tree. An old farmer came by, watched for a while, and then quietly said, “What are you doing?”
“Can’t you see?” the man impatiently replied, “I’m sawing down this tree.”

“You look exhausted,” said the farmer. “How long have you been at it?”
“Over five hours, and I’m beat,” replied the man. “This is hard work.”

“That saw looks pretty dull,” said the farmer. “Why don’t you take a break for a few minutes and sharpen it? I’m sure it would go a lot faster.”
“I don’t have time to sharpen the saw,” the man says emphatically. “I’m too busy sawing!”

Taking a break from what we do in order to “sharpen the saw” is necessary for us to be efficient and effective. But oftentimes this truth about our need for self-renewal does not seem to be obvious to us. In our desire to do more and produce more, we do not see the value of taking a break and “sharpening the saw.” We do not want to waste our precious time; hence, we go ahead oblivious of the fact that we have already become dull and ineffective.

One of the best authors on leadership, Stephen R. Covey, regarded “Sharpening the saw” as the final habit among the seven habits of highly effective people. He calls it the habit of self-renewal. For him, excellent performance is a function of the excellence of an instrument. The instrument is ourselves. Hence, the greatest single investment of time and effort is in ourselves. To stop and sharpen the instrument is never a waste of time. It is, in business parlance, a necessary investment.

Jesus, in the gospel reading today (Mk. 6: 30-34), is aware of this principle of self-renewal. As the apostles gather and report to him what they had done and taught, He instructs them saying: "Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while" (v. 31). How consoling these words are for someone who's been committed to the work of God's Kingdom and for those concerned for the betterment of humanity. The work can be tiring, replete with pain and sacrifices, as this is the cross we have committed to carry. Suddenly the Lord does not mention the cross. This time He sends invitation for renewal—to REST in a deserted place. The Lord knows we can get tired and we need to R... E... S... T...

Renewal. Evaluation. Silence. Thanksgiving.

Renewal. To stop for awhile and sharpen the “instrument” is a process of self-renewal. The deserted place to where we are invited by the Lord to be in communion with Him is our place of renewal—A place that energizes us for the mission. As we emerge from the place, we obtain new zeal, new strength to continue facing life's struggles and mission. To spend time with God is never a waste of time.

Evaluation. Taking a break can also come in the form of assessing what we have been doing. Coming away to a lonely place symbolizes the time dedicated to look back and examine the direction we have taken, the soundness of the decisions made, the goals set to be pursued. We check if these are still in consonance with God's will. Imagine spending all our life to commitments and causes not according to God’s design. That is what constitutes a real waste of time.

Silence. Taking a break can mean moving out of the hustle and bustle of our everyday life. The invitation to a lonely place is an invitation to silence. But in this place, we are not alone. God is there to meet us. Only in silence that we become sensitive to God's presence. In silence, we can relish the warmth of God's love that we otherwise do not notice in the heart of our busy life. What else can be a greater source of renewal than that of the assurance of God’s abiding love.

Thanksgiving. When we are renewed, when we have examined ourselves and aligned to God our decisions and commitments, when we are bathed in the reassuring love of God, we experience the rejuvenating beauty of life. Gratitude becomes the language of our hearts and we express our thanksgiving not only with words but with everything that we do and we are. Our whole life becomes itself a song of thanksgiving to God.

Indeed, such is a far cry to our dull, listless, tired and ineffective busy life. We need to sharpen the saw. It is never a waste of time to accept the Lord’s invitation to come away to a lonely place and REST awhile.

 

Traveling Light (15th Sunday Ordinary B)

In Traveling Light, the author, Max Lucado, examines each of the burdens that we carry with us in our life’s journey and suggests how we should let go of these cumbersome and unnecessary “baggage” and let God take care of them. These “baggage” that weigh us down take on many forms including self-reliance, disappointment, worries, arrogance, afflictions, grief and fear among others. The author, using the verses of Psalm 23 as points of reference, assures us of the care and desire of God, as our Shepherd, to free us from these burdens we were never intended to bear.

Today’s gospel (Mk 6: 7-13), too, is an exhortation on traveling light. Jesus sends his disciples to mission and he makes sure they do not carry whatever that is unnecessary and that they have to rely on God’s providence. In this gospel reading, Jesus reveals the secret to a contented, purposeful and trusting way of living. The secret is simplicity.

Traveling light in this journey we call life can take the form of the simplicity of lifestyle. To be simple does not mean to be suffering from want and to lack what one needs in life. To be simple is to live within the bounds of the basic necessities in life, to be peacefully contented with what is essential. Mark’s gospel records Jesus’ instructions: “Bring nothing for the journey except for walking staff and sandals” (v. 8). In other words, bring what is necessary and what facilitates your purpose; put down the extra “baggage” as these will slow and weigh you down. Well, this is fine and very reasonable so far.

But what about this? “Bring not even food or money!” If Jesus is addressing us today, we would certainly be very quick to react: “What?! Wait a minute! Are you serious? No food and no money?!” “Well, then, I’ll bring a credit card instead.” Such a reaction is predictable because it just expresses what we have become--insecure and helplessly dependent on money. But still, how do we make sense of Jesus’ injunction not to bring provisions?

Two things may help us see the meaning and relevance of this gospel. First, the single-mindedness for the mission. Second, the dependence on God’s providence.

Single-mindedness. Jesus exhorts his disciples to travel light. To bring only what is necessary because this facilitates the achievement of the purpose for which they are sent. The disciples are to preach repentance, to cure the sick, to expel demons, in short to announce that the reign of God is at hand. This is the purpose. This is the mission. The disciples ought to always have this in mind. Material possessions are cumbersome and its accumulation can distract them from this mission. But to travel light is to be single-minded about one’s goals. A disciple should always be on the go.

You see, to be simple is to be single-minded for the mission, undistracted by the attractions that this world offers. Our life has a purpose. It is our task to discern what that is and to be directed by that God-given purpose. So, it’s best to ask ourselves, “What is the god-given purpose of my life?” Without it, my life will be disoriented, easily swayed by the many tantalizing options offered by this materialistic and consumerist society. When our purpose or mission is unclear, it is easy for us to settle into living an extravagant lifestyle because we are misled to think that this is what life means. The irony though is that when our true purpose remains unfulfilled, we experience the deepest, disturbing emptiness—a void that no amount of money can fill.

Again, “What is my purpose or mission in life?” All the things I have are mere instruments to attain this. Many things I possess may not even be necessary for this. To simplify then helps me attain focus and single-mindedness.

Dependence on God’s providence. “Bring not even food or money.” It’s quite hard for a modern man to set out for his mission without these provisions. That’s why we may react like this, “Well, then, no money; but I’ll bring my credit card instead.”

The Lord is not saying here that we will not be needing food or money in doing our mission. In fact, any form of ministering requires financial support and cannot be sustained without it. The gospel reminds us that the disciples have to depend on the support of generous household who will accept them: “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave from there” (v. 10). Making money is not the apostles’ mission. They have to rely on the generosity of those to whom they have been sent. They have to trust in God’s providence. And believe that when God wants something to be done, God provides. I’ve always believed that the generous benefactors of the Church’s different ministries are signs of God’s continuing support to the mission.

In this age of strategic planning, we do not leave any room for chance. Everything is planned from the objectives down to the budget needs. Somehow we tend to leave God out of the equation and go on with our projects as if we are the ultimate director of things. And when things go wrong we end up taking tranquilizers to give us peace, to save us from depression, or even from going insane. Or the worst is, like some of the richest seemingly invincible persons in the world hit by global financial crisis, we end up jumping on a speeding train to call it quits.

Like the early disciples of Jesus, we need to trust in God’s providence. This is a humble stance, recognizing that we are not in control of everything. And many things are uncertain. Like what the inspirational author, Max Lucado, suggests, we need to trust in God and allow Him to take care of the unnecessary baggage we wrongly carry along with us.

Travel light. Be simple. Trust in God.

Why are Good People Silent? (14th Sunday Ordinary B)

The French military and political leader who rose to prominence and became Napoleon I, Emperor of the French from 1804 to 1815, is often quoted saying:  “The world suffers a lot, not because of the violence of bad people, but because of the silence of good people!”  We easily remember, too, Martin Luther King, Jr. expressing his similar disappointment: “History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.”

Why do good people remain silent in the face of evil?  Why do witnesses to evil deeds turn a blind eye and pretend that everything is just fine?

To denounce that which runs contrary to the values of God’s Kingdom and to proclaim, on the other hand, the tidings of liberation to those who have been suffering is a prophetic task. And prophets have the reputation of being rejected, insulted, persecuted, and finally executed! Who would like to take up this cause?

But still we feel a real sense of disappointment with good people who do not do anything but to protect themselves within their comfort zones while knowing full well that many are suffering.  We are disappointed because inherent to goodness is the prophetic mission to proclaim the truth and expose the evil. 

Today’s readings encourage us to take up our prophetic task as Christians. The experience of rejection, no doubt, will have to be part of this mission but the readings assure us that God enables us to fulfil our task. Three assurances overshadow our fear of rejection: One, that God cares; two, that God’s grace strengthens us in our weakness; three, that God’s saving power works even in the ordinary.

A word for each:

The assurance that God cares. In the first reading (Ez 2: 2-5), the prophet Ezekiel is sent by God to the rebellious Israelites. God cautions Ezekiel of the people’s obstinacy of heart. Hence, there is a great probability of the prophet being unheeded or rejected. Nevertheless, God instructs Ezekiel to proclaim God’s message to this rebellious people, whether they heed or resist, that they may know “that a prophet has been among them” (v. 5). In other words, God wants the people to know, even if they persist in their obstinacy, that God cares for them. The prophet’s presence among them is a reminder that God never gives up on them.

God cares. He is unhappy when evil seems to prevail and causing the suffering of his children. Good people are invited to be the sign of God’s love and care amid the suffering of people.

The assurance of God’s grace.  We may feel weak in the face of insults and rejection.  The second reading (2 Cor 12: 7-10) assures us of the empowering grace of God.  St. Paul attests to what the Lord said to him in his moments of weakness: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” This gives St. Paul the confidence to embrace weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints for the sake of Christ.  “For when I am weak,” he attests,”it is then that I am strong” (v. 10).

When God calls a prophet, He empowers him with his grace. What God requires, He enables.

The assurance of God’s power in the ordinary.  The rejection of Jesus by his townsfolk in today’s gospel reading (Mk 6:1-6) is due to the people’s familiarity with Jesus’ background.  They could not reconcile his authoritative teachings and miracles with his ordinariness.  “How is it such miraculous deeds are accomplished by his hands? Isn’t this the carpenter, the son of Mary...?” (v. 3) The people lacked faith in him for they could not see the power of God in the ordinary and familiar person of Jesus.

In Jesus, the carpenter, the familiar, the ordinary is the saving power of God.  God works even through the most ordinary people, events, and circumstances. He can work through us.

We are challenged to confront so many forms of evil today: Corruption that leads to poverty and destitution, injustices and oppression, unbridled cravings for consumption and ecological exploitation that threaten the very survival of Mother Earth, erosion of moral values, and degradation of human life to mention a few.

Good people ought not to remain silent in the face of these evils. We, Christians, for that matter, ought to take up our prophetic mission...

...even if there’s no promise of being accepted by obstinate hearts, if only to show that God is present amid our suffering as people and that God cares and does not give up on us.

...even if we know full well our own weakness and fear in the face of insults and persecution, for we know too that God’s grace is our strength.

...even if we are just simple individuals and citizens, for God’s saving power has no difficulty working in the familiar and the ordinary.