Mary, the Mother of God, our Mother Too

A 34-year-old mother and her 3-year-old child were rescued by fishermen after three days of drifting at sea. They had been washed away with their house to the sea by a strong current of flood in Misamis Occidental in the eve of Christmas (2022). I saw the news on TV when the mother was interviewed.  I was moved by her courage to survive and her determination to save her 3-year-old child. The raft they used broke many times, so she desperately tried to look for other wood to cling on to. She took care of her child while adrift at the open sea for three days. She would look around for any edible item floating near her. They fed on fruits and fish.  When her child was thirsty she managed to reach for a coconut. I wonder how she was able to break it so that her child could drink from it. Well, a mother always finds a way to take care of the needs of her child even in the most desperate of times.

When our mother is around we feel safe. Even in difficult times, we still can have our sense of security because we know that our mother is there taking care of us. Our mother always finds a way… because she cares. She would do whatever it takes for our sake.

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Mary as Mother of God at the beginning of the New Year. Mary is the “Mother of God” because she is the mother of Jesus, the God-Man. You see, God himself needed a Mother! And how much more so do we!  Mary is our mother too. Jesus himself gave her to us, from the cross: “Behold your mother!” (Jn 19:27). He said this to the beloved disciple and to every disciple.

We begin our journey this New Year with a confidence that we are accompanied by our Mother.  No matter what happens, no matter what lies ahead, we feel safe; we walk unafraid because we have a Mother who cares. Life nowadays is becoming harder for most of us. Rising inflation coupled by frequent calamities! And there seems to be no clear plan how to get out of this as a people. We can easily feel orphaned, left to fend for ourselves. Yet today’s celebration invites us not to lose heart but to trust that we are guided and accompanied by a Mother who cares.

Mary, the Mother of God and our Mother too, can guide and accompany us in our difficult journey by strengthening our faith in God’s goodness despite the many and varied forms of suffering we experience each day. In today’s gospel reading (Lk 2:16-21), Mary illustrates for us the right attitude in facing difficult realities in life. Mary has to face her own difficulties but with the strength of a mature faith.  In the words of Pope Francis, Mary had to endure “the scandal of the manger.” What is this? This refers to the unexpected event of the Son of the Most High being born in the lowliness of a manger.  Mary had received the message of an angel, who spoke to her solemnly about the throne of David: “You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David” (Lk 1:31-32). How come that Mary ended up giving birth to the Son of God in a crib for animals? How can Mary reconcile the glory of the Most High and the humility of a stable? As a mother, Mary would have wanted her child to be in a much better place. She could have complained. But we see in the Gospel reading that Mary remains silent and pensive:  Mary “kept all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Lk 2:19).

Mary teaches us to face our own troubling situations with this attitude: to keep and to ponder. When what we expect and maybe ardently prayed for turns out to be far from the reality, Mary our Mother invites us to profit from this discord and to grow more in faith by way of keeping and pondering. (The following beautiful explanation is taken from the words of Pope Francis).

First, Mary “keeps.” “She holds on to what happens; she does not forget or reject it. She keeps in her heart everything that she saw and heard. The beautiful things, like those spoken to her by the angel and the shepherds, but also the troubling things: the danger of being found pregnant before marriage and, now, the lowly stable where she has had to give birth. That is what Mary does. She does not pick and choose; she keeps. She accepts life as it comes, without trying to camouflage or embellish it; she keeps those things in her heart.”

Second, Mary “ponders.”  “The Gospel speaks of Mary “bringing together,” comparing, her different experiences and finding the hidden threads that connect them. In her heart, in her prayer, she does exactly that: She binds together the beautiful things and the unpleasant things. She does not keep them apart, but brings them together.  And in this way she discerns their greater meaning, from God’s perspective. In her mother’s heart, Mary comes to realize that the glory of the Most High appears in humility; she welcomes the plan of salvation whereby God must lie in a manger. She sees the divine Child frail and shivering, and she accepts the wondrous divine interplay between grandeur and littleness.”

Mary keeps and ponders.

Brothers and Sisters, we are at the threshold of a new year. Our Mother invites us to look back into the year we are bidding goodbye to. Surely, there were troubling experiences that we have faced. Maybe some of them still disturb us, maybe even challenging our faith. With Mary our Mother, we can review them with the same attitude she has illustrated in the gospel—keeping and pondering. This is the way to grow towards maturity of our faith.

As we cross the threshold to another year, we start our journey with confidence despite the glaring signs of a possibility of a hard and challenging life ahead. We are confident because we have Mary, Mother of God and our Mother too accompanying us and reminding us always not to be anxious but to trust in God’s wisdom and goodness.

And Dwelt Among Us (Christmas A)

I recall an anecdote about a helpless man in a pit:

A man fell into a dark, dirty pit, and he tried to climb out but he couldn't. A wise man of old came along. He saw the man in the pit and said, 'Poor fellow. If he had listened to what I have taught, he never would have fallen in.' And he left. Then a religious self-righteous man came along and saw the man in the pit and said, "Poor fellow.

  This certainly happens only to sinners. He deserves this after all." And he left. Soon after, a very spiritual man came along, saw the man in the pit and said, "Poor fellow. I'll certainly pray for him." And he too left. Then Jesus Christ came and said, 'Poor fellow!' And He jumped into the pit and showed him the way out.

Christmas is not simply the celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus, but the awesome mystery of the Incarnation of God. In the gospel reading today (Jn 1:1-18), which is the beginning of the gospel of John, we are told about this eternal Word who is God; and this Word became flesh and dwelt among us. In Jesus, God pitched his tent among us and remains among us as a human being forever. But why was it necessary for Jesus to come in the flesh? Why did the God who created the heavens and the earth have to take on human form?

Or as in the language of the story above, why did Jesus have to jump into the pit in order to save the helpless man? Let me reflect with you on three reasons:

“The Word became flesh” to reveal the Father. Today’s gospel reading ends with this passage: “No one has ever seen God. The only Son, God, who is at the Father’s side, has revealed him” (v. 18).

Jesus is the Word of God. By becoming man, He has revealed to the world the character of God. God is our Father!  With this, Jesus has shown us the depth of God’s love and mercy. Before Christ’s revelation, the idea of seeing God in this familiar image of a Father was not easily accepted. In Old Testament times, God was seen as holy, almighty, and transcendent God.   But Jesus came and taught us to call God “Abba!”  This was definitely a paradigm shift.

This truth provides hope for the helpless man in the pit—us. God is the God of love and mercy! Salvation is the Father’s only desire for us.  Thanks to the Word-made-flesh, we have come to know God the Father who so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son in order to save us from this dark and dirty pit of sin.

He “dwelt among us” to reveal who we are & how to live fully as human. “But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God^,” (v. 12). 

Not only did Jesus reveal who God is, He revealed to us who we are—our identity. We are God’s children! The Word taking on our human form shared with us this same humanity. Jesus was and is part of this human fraternity. By becoming man, Jesus became our brother. In Jesus we have become adopted children of God, the Father.

And as such, we ought to live as God’s children. How? Through the example of our Lord: “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (Jn 13:15).  Jesus lived among us. He was born of a mother and grew up in a normal way—from childhood to a teenager then into adulthood.  He gave his life to his public ministry culminating to his death and resurrection.  In all these, he was setting an example for us to emulate.  He showed us the way to live fully for He was the Way-- He taught us how to pray, how to love, how to care, how to forgive, how to trust in God.   He had shown us everything we needed to see in order to live as children of God.    

The eternal Word became flesh to carry us out of the dark pit of sin.  ^“In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (vv. 4-5).

God has burst, in the person of Jesus as our light, into the darkness of our human condition, to lead all people back home to him. But getting out of the dark pit of sin requires a sacrifice for atonement.  In the Old Testament, the blood of animals was sacrificed on the altar for atonement.  But that was only for a temporary atonement and had no lasting eternal effect. What would be required for our definitive redemption was a greater sacrifice which is what Christ became. “He personally carried our sins in His body on the cross so that we might die to sin and live for righteousness; for by His wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24). This is why the eternal Word had to take on human form. There was no other way he could carry our sins and carry us out of the dark pit of sin.
 

So, brothers and sisters, when we exchange gifts this Christmas, it ought to remind us of the greatest gift we have received: the eternal Word who became man to reveal to us the Father’s love and to redeem us from this dark pit of sin.

Joseph’s Magnanimous Heart (4th Sunday Advent A)

Joseph is another important Advent figure as attested to by today’s gospel account of “The annunciation to Joseph.” Let us train our gaze onto him and be edified by his display of a magnanimous heart as he participates in the preparation of the coming of the Messiah.

Let me recall first a romantic film, Till I Met You. In this movie, Gabriel (Robin Padilla) and Luisa (Regine Velasquez) meet in the hacienda of Señor Manuel (Eddie Garcia). Gabriel is the trusted right-hand man of the haciendero, Señor Manuel and he has only deep respect for the generous old man; he loves him as his own father because Manuel has supported him since his childhood. Now, Gabriel slowly falls in love with Luisa as he knows her better even her wounded past. But Luisa is staying there in the hacienda in preparation for her wedding with Señor Manuel. Should Gabriel fight for his love and pursue the lovable Luisa? Or should he forget about his feelings out of his deep respect for the old man?

In Filipino, we have a word for giving up something precious to oneself for the interest of someone else whom one deeply cares about—pagpaparaya. Of course, Gabriel cannot betray the old man whom he respects deeply. Kailangan niyang magparaya. So, he painfully decides not to get in the way between Luisa and Señor Manuel.

In today’s gospel (Mt 1:18-24), we can view Joseph’s reaction to his knowledge about Mary’s virginal conception as an act of “pagpaparaya”—giving up the love of his life out of deep reverence for God. Verse 19 states, “Joseph, being a just man… resolved to send her away quietly.” Joseph could not take as his wife a woman whom God had chosen to be his own. Fr. Nil Guillemette, SJ explains: The “justice” of Joseph is a religious justice and prevents him from stepping in uninvited into God’s plan of salvation by assuming the paternity of the Messiah.”

Yet, in a dream, Joseph got invited into this huge plan of salvation. The angel Gabriel announced to him the mystery of incarnation: “Joseph, descendant of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. She has conceived by the Holy Spirit, and now she will bear a son.” Part of this mystery was his role in this great plan: “You shall call him ‘Jesus’ for he will save his people from their sins” (v. 20-21). To this, Joseph responded with willingness.

What stands out in this gospel reading is Joseph’s magnanimous heart. This is shown in two ways: In his selfless love and in his committed love.

Joseph’s Selfless Love. Joseph loved Mary. His love for her was never possessive. When he learned of Mary’s pregnancy and, perhaps, of Mary’s own explanation even before the dream, Joseph was willing to let her go. Not with a bitter heart but a magnanimous heart seeking only whatever is good for his beloved and maintaining deep reverence for God’s plan. Handang magparaya. Letting go of something or someone very precious to oneself for a better cause calls for a magnanimous heart. It’s an act of selfless love.

Kaya ko bang magparaya? Do I have what it takes to give up something dear to me for a greater cause without turning bitter? We are all called to love. Loving in its essence is selfless. Yet, many a times we suffer from fixation to our childish neediness. To survive as a child, we necessarily demand attention and care for ourselves for we live in total dependence on others. But we need to outgrow the needy child in us; for we are called to become mature people capable of loving selflessly. This Advent season, try to think of yourself less and less and reach out to those who are in need. Give up something precious to you for the sake of another whom you care about. Pray for the grace of selfless love.

Joseph’s Committed Love. While Joseph was willing to let Mary go very carefully as not to disgrace her, he was magnanimous in yet another way as he manifested willingness to commit himself to God’s purpose. When the angel Gabriel announced to him his important role to be the legal father of Jesus by the act of naming him, He willingly obeyed. He saw his own purpose in life. God had chosen him for this. It was not a coincidence that he was a descendant of David; his acceptance conferred the same Davidic lineage to Jesus, thus, fulfilling what had been prophesied about the Messiah who was to come from the line of David.

Joseph is great because he embraced with a committed love his God-designated purpose in life. We are called to the same greatness too. To lead a great life is to live according to the purpose God has designated for each one of us. No one among us is an accident. God is not a clumsy Creator. He is the God of order and harmony and of wise designs. He has a purpose for his every act. He has a purpose for each one of us. Our task is to discern, by reflection, by self-examination, or even through our dreams, what on earth are we here for? And then like Joseph, may we have a big heart to embrace our own calling.

To end, let’s go back to the film: Señor Manuel and Luisa are preparing now for their wedding. Gabriel is willing to sacrifice his love for Luisa. Little did he know, Señor Manuel has known Gabriel’s feelings and the sacrifice he and Luisa are willing to take. The good old man, then, declares that there’s not going to be a wedding. He knows that Luisa and Gabriel, these two persons dear to him, will be much happier and fulfilled together. So the story ends with another person’s display of a magnanimous heart. It’s edifying to watch a great person.

This Advent season, let us aspire to be great, like Joseph, by cultivating a magnanimous heart—a heart willing to love and lose for a greater cause and a heart willing to love and embrace the purpose God has set for our lives.

The Joy of the Gospel (Gaudete Sunday A)

One day, I was home for a short break, my 5-year old nephew seemed to be restless moving around the house. Finally, he mustered his courage to approach me and whispered something to me. “What did you say?” I clarified. He said a bit louder, “tablet.” He was asking for a gift, and he wanted to have a Samsung tablet for him to play with! OMG! I explained to him that it was quite expensive, that I did not even have one for myself, and that I didn’t think he was ready for it. He seemed to have understood me and did not bother me anymore about it.

The following day my mother approached me and asked me, “what’s a tablet?” Apparently, my nephew had asked her too for the same gift and my mother, without thinking twice, said yes! So, the kid had been jumping for joy until he realized that my mother was taking him to Mercury Drug to grant his wish.

Are you one of those who seek joy in the thousand forms of pleasures offered by today’s technological smart gadgets? Here’s a better way of having joy in life: The joy of the gospel.

Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, invites us to rejoice and to experience what truly gives joy from within. Our liturgy bids us rejoice not because of any sophisticated gift that we received but because of the gift of the salvation that has come through and in Jesus Christ. The readings today remind us of the fulfillment of the prophetic promise of salvation in the person of Jesus Christ and the joy that accompanies this fulfillment.

The first reading for instance (Is 35:1-6a, 10), speaks of the salvation, comfort and healing that is promised to take place in the messianic era accompanied by everlasting joy for those who are ransomed:

“Be strong, fear not! Here is your God; he comes with vindication; with divine recompense he comes to save you. Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared; then will the lame leap like a stag, then the tongue of the mute will sing. Those whom the Lord has ransomed will return and enter Zion singing, crowned with everlasting joy” (v. 4-6, 10).

Moreover, the gospel reading (Mt 11:2-11) affirms the advent of the promised Messianic era in Jesus Christ.  Asked by John’s emissaries of his identity, i.e. whether or not he is the Messiah, Jesus in affirmation pointed them to the very signs which the Prophet Isaiah spoke of:

“Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them” (v. 5).

Clearly then our readings illustrate to us the fulfillment of the promise of salvation in Jesus Christ. This is the Good News. This is what brings joy to everyone.  This is the joy of the Gospel which Pope Francis speaks of in his apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium. Inspired by this exhortation, allow me to offer three ways of experiencing true joy which our smart gadgets cannot give:

The joy of being loved and forgiven.  Experience will tell us that ultimately there is no joy in the path of consumerism. Pope Francis affirms this in his apostolic exhortation when he recognizes as a great danger in today’s world “the desolation and anguish born of a complacent yet covetous heart, the feverish pursuit of frivolous pleasures, and a blunted conscience.”  In such desolation, God is no longer heard, “the quiet joy of his love is no longer felt and the desire to do good fades” (EG, 2).

What brings back the joy is a renewed personal encounter with Jesus Christ.  In Jesus we experience the infinite love and mercy of God.  Even if we have shunned God’s love over and over again, the Lord awaits our return to him. He is never tired of forgiving us; His boundless and unfailing love restores our joy and makes it possible for us to lift up our heads and to start anew (EG, 3). Let us then hear God’s invitation and allow him to love us and to embrace us back in his mercy.

The joy of sharing the gospel.  This renewed encounter with God’s love liberates us from our narrowness and self-absorption. It propels us to offer our lives in the task of evangelization.  As Pope Francis explains, “For if we have received the love which restores meaning to our lives, how can we fail to share that love with others?” (EG, 8).

This is the joy of the mission to evangelize or to proclaim the good news of God’s love and mercy. And the Pope wishes that “the world of our time, which is searching, sometimes with anguish, sometimes with hope,l be enabled to receive the good news not from evangelizers who are dejected, discouraged, impatient or anxious, but from ministers of the Gospel whose lives glow with fervour, who have first received the joy of Christ” (EG, 10).

The joy of remembering. The joy of evangelizing always arises from grateful remembrance. The believer is essentially “one who remembers”. Hence, this invitation for the new zeal for evangelization does not mean forgetting our living history but returning to the source in order to recover the original freshness of the Gospel and to express it with more eloquent words with new meaning for today’s world (EG, 11).

Memory is an essential dimension of our faith.  Our celebration of the Eucharist is “the Church’s daily remembrance of, and deeper sharing in, the event of Jesus’ Passover” (EG, 13).  As we approach Christmas, let us bring our families together to experience the joy of remembering our Lord as we celebrate joyfully our Christmas liturgy.

Have you found joy in life? The search has probably been long and even frustrating especially if you have been religiously listening to advertisements. This consumerist formula for joy is not working. It brings all of us down including our dying planet. Gaudete Sunday, on the other hand, bids us to be joyful because of the good news of salvation in Christ. Let us embrace the Gospel and the joy that comes with it. And life will be different.

Maranatha! (2nd Sunday Advent A)

We look around and we see conflict and division. Oftentimes these are manifested through violent expressions. Harsh words... malicious accusations... killings... war... terrorism. We also experience so much injustice in society. The evildoers seem to have their way and even rewarded; while the good suffer and unjustly punished. We deeply wish that things aren't the way they are now. “There has to be an end to these.” This yearning is our own experience of the longing of advent.  We long for harmony, peace, and justice.  Just as the people of Israel cried out, "Maranatha!" (Aramaic for “Come, O Lord!”) as they long for the coming of our Lord, we too long to see an end to our many sufferings.  When we are at it, we may as well magnify this yearning as we journey into the season of Advent. 

Today’s readings afford us both a vision of what we are yearning for and the way towards such a vision.  I’m speaking of Isaiah’s vision of the Day of our Lord and John the Baptist’s way of repentance.

Isaiah’s Vision. Our first reading (Is 11:1-10) is Isaiah’s oracle depicting the era of the Messiah. For Isaiah, the prophet of Advent in the Old Testament, the eschatological era of the Messiah will be characterized by justice for the Anawim (the poor one’s of Yahweh) as the Lord “shall judge the poor with justice and decide aright for the land’s afflicted” (v. 4). Not only that justice will reign, there shall be harmony in this eschatological age as signified by these images: “Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with kid; the calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them” (v. 6). There shall be peace in all the earth for “there shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the Lord, as water covers the sea” (v. 9).

A vision provides hope. It is to where we are committed to journey no matter what. The vision is what we yearn to happen now. We long for justice, for peace and harmony.  Despite overwhelming obstacles to our efforts, despite the fact that we can reach a point of exasperation, we continue to cling to the vision.  We continue to hope. And more importantly, as we feel helpless many times, we have to learn to trust in the promise of the fulfillment of the Reign of God. We don’t fulfill the vision with pure human will and creativity; it is the Lord who ultimately brings fulfillment.

This is, then, at the heart of Advent: Our anticipation of the Lord’s coming, the fulfillment of the vision. So when we are down and discouraged, exasperated and feeling useless, there’s one more thing to do: Cry out with total dependence on the Lord, “Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!”

John’s Way of Repentance. Our efforts, all too often, are motivated by egoism or by a do-it-my-way arrogance. No wonder we fail many times and we don’t progress towards the vision. John the Baptist, in today’s gospel reading (Mt. 3:1-12), has taught us the way—Repentance. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” (v. 2). For John, repentance is how we prepare for the coming of our Lord. For him, who is the Advent prophet of the era of fulfillment, repentance is both urgent and concrete.

The kingdom of heaven is at hand! The fulfillment of the vision is now! Repentance, then, must not be delayed. It has to be done now. It is urgent; it must be prioritized.

And repentance must be concrete; it has to “produce good fruits” as evidence (v. 8). It cannot simply be a sentimental remorse for sin or a spur-of-the-moment intention to be better. Remorse and good intentions are a good start but these have to lead to concrete changes. Repentance or “metanoia” involves three levels of changes: The change of mind which means a new way of thinking; the change of heart which means a new way of valuing; and the change of behavior which means a new way of acting. All these are the ways of Jesus Christ. To repent is to turn away from our egoistic self and embrace the ways of the Lord, in St. Paul’s language, “to put on Christ.”

When we truly repent then, we allow Jesus Christ, the Lord, to reign in our hearts. Then everything in the vision follows—justice, peace, harmony.

Christmas lights are, no doubt, delightful to behold. But, alas, when we ignore the Advent requirement of true repentance, they may end up just as a colorful cover-up of a frightening darkness that secretly lurks within us and hovers around us. And we continue with our exasperation and helplessness in the face of the worsening ills of society wondering why our vision, or Isaiah’s, remains elusive. We need to listen to John. Repent.

The Crucified King (Christ the King C)

From day one up to now, believers and non-believers alike have been inspired by Pope Francis. On The Washington Post, Kathleen Parker wrote about Pope Francis:

“Pope Francis continues to delight and surprise as he pursues his radical pilgrimage across the global psyche - inspiring with his humility while also sending shock waves with his subversive spirit. Yes, make no mistake, this humble man from Argentina who describes himself first as a sinner and prefers simplicity to the opulence afforded by his station is, like Jesus Christ himself, a radical. He washes the feet of the poor while eschewing the ruby papal slippers for his own holy feet. He lives in humble quarters among colleagues rather than in the isolation of the Vatican suites where his predecessors have slept. He immerses himself in humanity while urging a greater pastoral role for the church and a de-emphasis on the harsh judgments of institutional authority.”

What makes Pope Francis tick? I think, as Kathleen Parker somewhat hinted at, it is that his ways remind us of Jesus Christ. And the world longs for a leader who is a living witness to Christ.  

In today’s gospel reading (Lk 23:35-43), Jesus is portrayed as the crucified King. In this reading, it is possible to bring out three traits of Christ the King that people of today somehow recognize in the ways of the present Pope: These are humility, compassion, and servant-leadership. These must also be our own, if we are indeed disciples of Christ the King and are edified by the leadership example of our Pope. 

Christ the King is a humble King. While he was hanging on the cross, the rulers, the soldiers, and one of the criminals beside him all sneered at him. Each of them challenged the crucified Lord to prove himself as the Messiah of God by saving himself from defeat and death on the cross. But He did not succumb to the temptation to use his power. On the cross, He remained humble and “powerless.” His way is the humble obedience to the Father, not the triumphalistic and egoistic display of power to show his greatness. He died utterly humiliated. But such humility was the very power of God that brought salvation to the world.

Pope Francis reminds us of the humility of Christ. He inspires us because he believes that humility attracts people to the Church, not power and pride. He once told the cardinals that the strength of the Gospel “is precisely in humility, the humility of a child who lets himself be guided by the love and tenderness of his father.” As he himself chooses to reject the opulent trappings of the papacy, the Pope invites the Church to leave behind whatever remaining vestiges of triumphalism it has gotten used to over the centuries. He invites the Church to be humble just as Christ the King is humble. This invitation touches the hearts of many people and deeply inspires them.

Christ the King is compassionate. The gospels have all recounted the many incidents when Jesus manifested his compassion for the least, the last and the lost. But today’s gospel reading highlights even more the compassion of Christ when, as He hanged on the cross facing his own death, he listened to the prayer of the thief beside him: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus recognized the implicit repentance in the prayer of this thief. Right there and then, Jesus’ compassionate heart granted the promise of eternal life to him. Herein lies the true power of the crucified King: not in casting harsh judgment on sinners but in showing compassion and mercy to the repentant.

Pope Francis too has been moving the hearts of thousands of people by his simple gestures of compassion. Once, he met a man covered in boils from head-to-toe, instead of recoiling from this man as some doctors even do, Pope Francis embraced him. In yet another instance in Saint Peter’s Square, the Pope noticed a man in the crowd with a severely disfigured face. The Pope approached him, embraced him as well and prayed with him. Pope Francis is showing the world the compassion of Christ the King. And more importantly he invites the Church to change focus. The Church, he said, should emphasize compassion and mercy instead of “small-minded rules.”

Christ is a servant-king.  To the world, a “servant-king” is an oxymoron, a combination of two contradictory concepts. But for Christ, the former fittingly defines the latter. As he had declared early on in his public ministry, the Son of Man “did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mt. 20:28). Hence, as a King, he rules not by domination but by serving even to the point of laying down his life for his people. He is not a king sitting pretty on a majestic throne but one awkwardly hanging on the cross bruised, wounded, and dying—all for the sake of whom he was sent to save.

Pope Francis too understands his leadership in terms of service just like Christ.  On his installation he proclaimed: "Let us never forget that authentic power is service…  The pope, too, when exercising power, must enter ever more fully into that service, which has its radiant culmination on the cross." And he calls the Church to rise beyond her tendency to be “self-referential” and to take the risk of reaching out to the poor in service. The Church, like her King, must be a servant Church.

With Pope Francis leading us in the spirit of Christ the King, we continue living out with joy and enthusiasm our Christian faith. Pope Francis has begun pointing us to Christ once again by his examples and exhortations on humility, compassion, and service. Just as Christ the King is humble, compassionate, and a servant, so his Church must be, so each of us must be.

Mount of Olives (32nd Sunday Ordinary C)

Among the several things that caught my attention during my visit to the Mount of Olives (the Garden of Gethsemane being my favorite) was a prominent feature that covers the entire western and almost all of the southern slopes of the mount—the Jewish cemetery.  From what I gathered, since antiquity Jewish burial continued to be done there interrupted only between 1948 and 1967 when Jerusalem was divided. According to tradition, the Jewish cemetery on the sacred mount is where the resurrection will begin when the Messiah comes. ​ Legend has it that in the end of days people will tunnel underground from all over the world to rise up there.

For a believer in the “God of the living,” death is seen in the light of hope for the triumph of life.  Mount Olives has become a symbol of that hope for resurrection. 

Jewish belief in the afterlife was a late development in Israel.  The earliest afterlife belief of a promise of resurrection appears in the book of Daniel written in the second century before Christ. Today’s first reading from the second book of Maccabees (2 Mc 7:1-2, 9-14) is also a second century B.C. writings. It expresses the belief in afterlife as vindication of those who have been faithful to God.

Today’s first reading is an excerpt of the story of the heroism of the mother and her seven martyred sons. The faith-filled family was persecuted by the Seleucid king for their faith in God.  They were forced to eat pork in violation of God’s law. All of the sons resisted to the end, professing before death their fidelity to God and their hope for resurrection. The fourth son, for instance, when nearing death after being tortured said: “It is my choice to die at the hands of men with the hope God gives of being raised up by him; but for you, there will be no resurrection to life” (2 Mc 7:14).

The willingness of all the sons to endure torture and death depended on their belief in subsequent resurrection of the righteous. 

On the contrary, the Sadducees did not believe in resurrection as they only adhered to the Pentateuch and refused to give weight to oral tradition. Hence, in the gospel reading (Lk 20:27-38), the Sadducees presented a ridiculous case to Jesus to press him on the afterlife issue.  The case is based on a teaching of the Book of Moses on the responsibility of a man to marry his deceased brother’s widow and bear progeny to his name.  By presenting the case of a widow who married the seven brothers who each died without leaving a progeny, the Sadducees wanted to illustrate to Jesus the implausibility of resurrection, as there would be confusion as to whose wife will she be.

In his reply, Jesus did two things: First, He asserted the vast difference between our experience in earthly life and that of the afterlife.  One cannot compare the two. The resurrected life cannot be understood in terms of our earthly experience as the Sadducees were trying to do.  The afterlife is far superior to our earthly experience, as Jesus attested: “… those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming of age and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. They can no longer die, for they are like angels; and they are the children of God…” (v. 34).

Second, Jesus clearly upheld the belief in resurrection by citing Yahweh’s relationship to the three patriarchs. Only life would continue to bind the patriarchs to God after their death: “That the dead will rise even Moses made known in the passage about the bush, when he called ‘Lord’ the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob; and he is not God of the dead , but of the living, for to him all are alive” (vv. 37-38). God is the source of all life; He is the cause of resurrected life.

Our Christian invitations:

Invitation to gratitude. God is not the God of the dead. He is the God of the living. We must always be grateful to the source of life. We can do this by taking good care of our lives, by celebrating life, by our commitment to promote and protect life. Our earthly life is passing. But “no longer must we fear and disguise the reality of death. We will die, but live ever more fully in Christ” (PCPC II #2059).

Invitation to hope. A clear grasp of the afterlife is not possible. Any attempt to describe it and to discuss its details is futile for it is always beyond the terms of our earthly experience. Yet our faith in Jesus allows us to cling to this beautiful belief as our hope for a future superior existence as children of God.  It is this hope that we should bring into our world which is always on the verge of despair because of the violence of conflict and war, of the devastations wrought by earthquakes and supertyphoons, of the suffering due to destitution, of fear and insecurities due to sickness.  It is the hope of transformation.

Invitation to fidelity. Good people many times suffer a lot. Those who are on the side of justice and truth are persecuted by the evil of this world. All the more that, as disciples of Christ, we should continue to be faithful to His words by announcing his message of salvation and by denouncing whatever is evil in God’s sight.  We must fear not. God is on our side.  Resurrection is God’s vindication of those who have been faithful to him.

Should the legend about Mount of Olives come to pass, let us be among those deemed worthy to rise up there.

Climbing Our Sycamore Trees (31st Sunday Ordinary C)

(visiting the legendary sycamore tree in Jericho)

I recall my pilgrimage experience to the Holy Land visiting significant holy sites of our faith—first, around the Galilean region and, then, in the southern region where Jerusalem is. One significant itinerary was the city of Jericho!  It is said to be the oldest in the world. And of course, among the many significant sites we visited was the legendary “sycamore tree.” It was not the actual tree which Zacchaeus climbed; nonetheless, the sight of it lends to a vivid contemplation of the encounter of our Lord and the tax collector—an encounter which led to a joyful embrace of faith. 

Allow me to offer the fruits of my reflection straight from my actual visit to Jericho. Three things: On seeking the Lord, on climbing our sycamore tree, and on rediscovering the joy of believing.

Seeking the Lord.  Anyone who listens attentively to his heart’s yearnings will recognize, among a complex web of desires, his hidden longing for God.  In today’s gospel reading (Lk 19:1-10), Zacchaeus, described as a tax collector and a wealthy man, found himself seeking the Lord. He was probably in possession of what the world had to offer him but still deep within him lurked either, at the least, a  curiosity about Jesus or, at most, a nudging longing to meet and know Jesus. Despite the well-off socio-economic stature that he enjoyed, Zacchaeus was obviously restless. Maybe Jesus represented what would finally give him serenity and joy.

Despite what we have and who we have become in this world, we can still be restless like Zacchaeus. This restlessness gently prods us to seek the only treasure that gives ultimate meaning to our lives. Rather than drowning this restlessness with many and varied activities or with our hi-tech gadgets which effectively divert our attention outwards, the story of Zacchaeus invites us to listen inwardly and courageously to the restless yearning of our hearts. Like Zacchaeus, we are to face it squarely and do something about it—seek the Lord. As St. Augustine puts it: “Our hearts are restless, O Lord, until it rests in you.”

Climbing our sycamore trees. This refers to our positive commitment to overcome the obstacles of a genuine encounter with the Lord. What hinders us in our search for God? What makes our encounter with God difficult or even close to impossible? Zacchaeus knew what, for him, was the obstacle to seeing the Lord. He was too short to see the Lord as He passed by through the crowd. With great humility, he accepted his predicament and, throwing caution to the air, he climbed the sycamore tree to overcome his handicap.

In his apostolic letter, Porta Fidei, the Emeritus Pope Benedict XVI clearly identified what consists as the great obstacle to the faith of the modern era. It is the materialist and secularist philosophies in life. These worldviews compliment and support each other in effectively convincing people that God is unnecessary in the affairs of human beings. Human beings are ultimately responsible for and in-charge of giving direction and meaning to his existence. How do we overcome these? What may represent for us the sycamore tree that we have to climb? Could it be our commitment to know Jesus through our Scripture reading and reflection? Through a meaningful celebration of our sacraments and liturgy especially the Eucharist? Pilgrimages? Or could it be the daily invitation to witness to our faith by our loving service to the poor?

The joy of believing.  Once we overcome the hindrances to faith by climbing our own sycamore trees, we discover, maybe as a surprise, that it is not only us who seek God. It is God who first seeks us and intends to stay with us.  Zacchaeus was really surprised that Jesus, instead of passing by, looked up to him perched on a branch of the sycamore tree and instructed him: “Zacchaeus, come down quickly for today I must stay at your house” (v. 5). He came down quickly and “receive him with joy” (v. 6).

a typical edifice in Jericho

Receiving the Lord and allowing him to stay in our hearts which have been yearning for His presence can only result in abundance of joy. There is joy in receiving the Lord in our lives; there is joy in truly living out our Christian faith. There is joy in surrendering our possessions for the sake of justice and charity to the poor.

Or have we gradually lost such joy like sand slipping bit by bit between our fingers?

Like Zacchaeus, let us listen to the yearning of our hearts for God; let us seek Him by climbing our own sycamore trees; let us be ready to surrender everything to God to give way to true and lasting joy. Let us be brave to take one step toward God, only to discover that God has taken a thousand steps toward us.

The Poor at Our Gates (26th Sunday Ordinary C)

(grabbed from http://www.gettyimages.com)

We always wish and pray for prosperity, peace, and stability of our social order. Seldom do we pray for change in the social order for many of us do not want to “rock the boat.” That is why sometimes I am tempted to interpret disasters, wars, and any form of crises as blessings in disguise inasmuch as they awaken us from our slumber. We recall, for instance, the havoc inflicted by super typhoon Yolanda upon the people of Tacloban and the unspeakable suffering the people endured. Or the siege of the city of Zamboanga and the tens of thousands of families it displaced. Nobody would wish these horrible things to happen of course.

But when these happen, we observe one good thing that is evoked-- the inherent goodness and strength of the human spirit. These crises shake us from our complacency and apathy. They stir up in us deep compassion for those who are suffering. Almost everybody gets up to show concern and wants to be of help in whatever way possible. Whereas, in normal times, we kind of accept as a fact of life that the affluent live in self-indulgence vis-à-vis the destitution and suffering of the poor; and we have grown inured to such a social set up that we are no longer bothered by it.

Today’s readings disturb too our comfortable acceptance of such a social set up. The first reading and the gospel may be taken as a criticism of the propensity of the rich toward self-indulgence and apathy to the lot of the poor. 

Here are the words of Prophet Amos directed to the wealthy ruling class of his time: “Woe to the complacent in Zion! Lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches, they eat lambs taken from the flock… drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils; yet they are not made ill by the collapse of Joseph! (Am 6: 1, 4-6)

Here, Amos was concerned that while Joseph (stands for the people of Israel) is in a state of disintegration, the wealthy rulers did not care and continued to live in undisturbed luxury. Therefore, “they shall be the first to go into exile, and their wanton revelry shall be done away with” (v. 7).

Likewise, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus in the gospel reading (Lk 16: 19-31), warns of the reversal of social roles in the after-life:  The rich man ends up tormented in the netherworld while the poor Lazarus enjoys the company of Abraham in heaven.

The parable though is not a doctrine on automatic reversal of the rich and poor in the after-life regardless of the person’s moral disposition. The story is more of a warning addressed to the complacent rich who believe that it is just a matter of course that they eat and drink and be merry for after all they have been blessed with abundance while the poor languish for a lack of material blessings.  It is helpful to note that throughout the history of the Jewish people, it is a dominant belief that wealth and poverty are a function of reward and punishment.  Hence, it is believed that the rich are blessed because of their good conduct and that the poor must have been punished for some evil deeds.

Therefore, the rich man in the parable has shown no qualms in living luxuriously, dressing in fine linen and dining sumptuously each day. Not only does he live in self-indulgence, he also does not care about the lot of Lazarus lying at his door. While he dines sumptuously, presumably with his rich friends, Lazarus languishes in hunger in company of some dogs that lick his sores!

The fundamental problem of the rich man is that he does not see any problem with this stark contrast. The parable’s conclusion of the reversal of roles in the after-life is most probably an eye-opener for the rich audience of Jesus and for the rich of our own time.

Three invitations for us today:

“Seeing” the poor at our gates.  Like the rich man, often times we see the poor around us. But we have accepted their lot as normal. So we see them but we don’t recognize them and their needs. For us they are nameless. The gospel invites us to recognize them, their situation, their hunger, and thirst and to know their names. Didn’t Jesus name the poor Lazarus?

Compassion and care for the poor.  As we recognize the suffering of the poor, we are invited to allow the inherent goodness in us to be evoked.  Let us not live in apathy.  We are capable of feeling what the poor are undergoing. We cannot say “I don’t care!” and still be truthful to the stirrings within us. Our readings today invite us to care. And as the parable reveals, we ought to care now as later may be too late.

Checking our self-indulgent lifestyle.  We may have gotten so used to our comfortable and even luxurious way of living that we really don’t see any problem with it. Let us be reminded that this is exactly the problem of the rich man in the parable and the rich ruling class in Amos’ time.  We cannot really recognize the suffering of the poor and care for them, so long as we are self-absorbed pampering ourselves with comfort and luxury.  Let us be grateful for God’s abundant blessings but let us use these to share to those who do not have.  Sharing can lead us to the joy of simplicity.

We should continue to pray for prosperity, peace, and stability of the social order in our land. And we should not wish for disasters to come. But we have to change our self-indulgent lifestyle and the apathy that comes along with it. Without waiting for crisis moments, we can nurture our compassion and care for the poor every normal day. Let us see and recognize the poor at our gates. The rich man in the parable has always been given the opportunity to serve the poor Lazarus. But he has not grabbed the opportunity. Let us not make the same mistake. 

The Cost of Discipleship (23rd Sunday Ordinary C)

What do you hold as the most valuable thing in your life?

Most of us would not think twice in saying it’s our life and well-being that we value most and, perhaps, equally, our family and its security. In a survey done among the devotees of the Black Nazarene about what they pray for, the following are the top three: First, personal health (or well-being); second, family;  and third, work (or wealth). We pray and work hard in order to take care of ourselves and of our family and loved ones. These are of highest importance to us. Everything else comes next.

It would not be surprising, then, for us to find today’s gospel (Lk 14:25-33) really disturbing. Employing Semitic emphasis in conveying his point on discipleship, Jesus says to the crowd travelling with him: “If anyone comes to me without hating his father, and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple” (v. 25). I bet a significant portion of the crowd started to leave as they heard this hard teaching. And even today, many Christians would rather ignore this difficult teaching and selectively enjoy listening only to those themes that promise material prosperity, abundance of blessings and the grace of salvation. Many of us follow Christ because we want to get something from him. We want security and blessings for ourselves and our loved ones here on earth and in heaven. We miss seeing many times that discipleship is demanding as it is rewarding.

The demand for total commitment. Jesus makes it clear in the gospel reading today that to follow him is costly. He demands as a price nothing less than what we deem as most important to us, our lives and loved ones.  “Hating” our loved ones and even our own life is a Semitic literary expression that conveys strongly the necessary readiness to give up these great human values in favor of a greater one, or, more appropriately, in favor of the greatest of all values-- Jesus Christ and everything that He stands for. Discipleship is choosing to follow Christ and embracing everything that He represents with total commitment and dedication. Everything else is secondary, i.e., our lives and personal comfort, our family and loved ones, our possessions, etc.

 Jesus demands that He be the center of a follower’s life. A disciple who loves Jesus less than he does his own life and family is not a serious follower. His brand of discipleship will not make a difference in this broken and sinful world. His will be a kind of discipleship that easily settles with compromises and, hence, cannot accomplish anything for the kingdom of God. It is like someone who begins to build a tower but cannot finish it because of lack of resources or like a king who decides to oppose the twenty thousand troops of another king without considering first his own military strength which is actually only half as strong as the advancing troops and is bound for defeat.

The challenge posed by Filipino strong family orientation. Philippine society is characterized by a strong family-centered orientation. This means that for Filipinos the love of and loyalty to the family comes first. Family concerns and the security of its members, as well as the respect for the elderly and authority, are important. These are beautiful values, of course. But as the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines admitted, the excessive attachment to this family-centered orientation results in a particularistic values that focus only on small groups like family and clan and are less concerned about universal or common good. Some social ills are based on this exaggerated concern for the family, like the case of political dynasties and economic inequalities due to the concentration of the resources in relatively few Filipino families.

This is what happens when we cannot “hate” our family members and our very own self for the sake of Christ.  If we continue to place Christ next only to the love of family and self, nothing will change. We will all continue to pursue what is good only for our families and ignore the inequalities and injustices that cause the suffering of the poor. We will only be very much concerned about protecting our personal interests. Again, a brand of Christian discipleship that does not have Christ at the center of its commitment is a sham. It’s a lame duck. It’s good for nothing. It cannot witness. It cannot proclaim the good news of God’s kingdom, much less, denounce the structure of sin within which it finds itself complicit and trapped.

Invitation to a discipleship that transforms. The gospel today therefore rightly comes with a strong Semitic way of expression so that we may not fail to see the point.  For a nation that holds the family so dearly in our hearts, we are invited not so much to literally despise our family and self as to move beyond this clannish and particularistic love and self-centeredness. We are invited to become true followers of Christ by committing our lives to a cause greater than just our immediate family and personal concerns. We are called to become committed and active member of the wider family of God where equality and justice abide. We are called to a total commitment and dedication to Jesus Christ and the values of the kingdom of God.

Total dedication is difficult. It calls for great sacrifice, giving up what we deem most important to our personal lives. This is the high cost of discipleship. But this is the only kind that liberates and transforms.

The Better Part (16th Sunday Ordinary C)

I was with two friends discussing quite casually our views on social change. At some point of the exchange, one expressed his conviction that activism is the best and effective channel of reform.  His life had been, in fact, engaged in cause-oriented movements. The other, however, quickly suggested that contemplation is most essential in shaping the external world whose structures are mere effects caused by what is conceived in the inner world of the mind. Quite easily the discussion was led to a synthesis: Both action and contemplation are essential.  They have to interact in a creative tension; and this mutual influence on each other is called by some social theorists as praxis. Praxis is acted-upon reflection and reflected-upon action. It is this dynamic cycle which is transformative and liberating.

We can discern a similar concern in the encounter of Jesus with the two sisters, Martha and Mary in today’s gospel reading (Lk 10:38-42).  Martha, who busied herself serving the Lord with her hospitality, may represent the active life; while Mary, who did nothing but sit beside the Lord at his feet to listen to him, may symbolize for us the contemplative life. As recounted in the gospel, Martha was kind of complaining about Mary’s lack of concern to help her in serving the Lord.  Jesus pointed out, as a correction, that she was anxious and worried about many things and that Mary had actually chosen the better part.

We must quickly note though that Jesus is in no way degrading the value of service. We must remember the message of the Parable of the Good Samaritan which, in Luke’s gospel, immediately precedes this encounter between Jesus and the two sisters. In the parable, the love of neighbor is expressed in active compassion and service to the needy. In today’s gospel, what Jesus wanted Martha to recognize and be wary of is her anxieties. Service or ministry remains an essential element of Christian life. But this assertion should not allow a Christian to ignore the Lord altogether. Instead, as today’s gospel would remind us, one has to realize that there is something better than our “work for the Lord;” and it is the Lord himself and union with him.

Hence, our challenge is to strike a dynamic balance between our active ministry and contemplative prayer.  Many have intertwined these two elements in their daily lives and have developed a way of life that is described as contemplative-in-action. If we cannot learn to sustain this creative tension, then our active ministry, on the one hand, will end up devoid of its spiritual intentionality. Without prayer and contemplation, our ministry will be reduced to a series of disoriented activities. Many of those who have trodden this path have ended up with fatigue and burn out, their anxieties and worries overwhelming them. They may have expended all their creative energies to their causes but would still be haunted by a nagging feeling of emptiness at the end of the day.

On the other hand, if our contemplation and prayer do not lead us to service, we might suffer from empty spiritualism.  We enjoy the peace and serenity of our union with God in prayer but we have ignored the disturbing cries of those who need our active service.  In this case, our contemplation and prayer becomes our method of escape from the difficult yet valid concerns in life, communal or personal.

Our invitation, therefore, is as clear as the blue sky. For those who tend to spiritualize the many and varied concerns in life spending their time exclusively in pious devotions, the invitation is towards active service.  They should allow their silent moment with God to bring them the confidence to face the challenges of life and the necessary grace that enables them to respond to the cry of those in need. Their prayer must lead them to service, works of charity, justice, and liberation.

For the activist among us, those who are result and productivity-oriented, the invitation is to seek the will of God in prayer.  We need to incorporate into our daily schedule a time to be silent and still in order to pray. In silent contemplation, we allow the Lord to direct our creative energies and, more importantly, to love us for who we are and not for what we do for him. After all, we have been called “human beings;” not “human doings.” Our worth does not lie in our productivity but in the sheer fact that we are loved by God. Our activism propels us to serve. But if it is unreflected, it betrays our misplaced priority. So, while we must value our service and ministry, we are clearly reminded by the gospel today to know and embrace “the better part.”

Burning Our Boats (13th Sunday Ordinary C)

The world has known Alexander the Great and his powerful army for their fierceness in battles and awesome victories.  For years, they had confidently overcome opposing armies in their conquests.  Legend has it that when Alexander and his men disembarked on the shores of Persia they realized that they were outnumbered. Feeling less confident because they were clearly outmanned, Alexander’s army pleaded to retreat in order to get more men.  But Alexander’s response was quite the opposite of their plea.  He ordered his men to burn their boats! And when their boats, their only means of retreat, went up in flames, Alexander turned to his men and said, “We go home in Persian ships, or we die!”

This is an awesome display of unwavering determination.  To burn one’s boat signifies total commitment to one’s purpose—No more turning back. No more other options to consider. One must go ahead, come hell or high water, and fulfill to the best of one’s ability what one has set out to do. No retreat, no surrender. Do or die!

Today’s gospel reading (Lk 9:51-62) depicts this same unwavering determination on the part of Jesus as He decides to begin his journey to Jerusalem.  And in this context too, the Lord reveals what is demanded of those who wish to follow him in this journey.  Hence, today’s gospel reading is an invitation for us to reflect on the demands of discipleship. Let us bring out, then, and reflect on three demands that the Lord clearly put forth for those who muster their courage to follow the Lord.

Sacrifice.  “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head” (v. 58). This Semitic expression used by the Lord as his reply to the one who wish to follow him means that the disciple must be ready to sacrifice his own comfort and security. Discipleship is a journey. No one sets out on a journey with the Lord without leaving his own comfort zone. One has to let go of his security and face the uncertainties and the element of the unknown inherent in the journey.  Jesus’ own journey to Jerusalem is not a leisurely walk of a tourist in vacation.  In Jesus’ case, Jerusalem is not a tourist destination; rather, it represents his suffering and death as fulfillment of his saving mission. Every step he takes is a confirmation of his willingness to sacrifice everything, even his life, in order to fulfill his mission.

Do we have the courage to sacrifice our own comfort and security in order to follow Christ? Can we forget ourselves in order to take care of those who are suffering, the sick, the elderly, and the orphaned? Can we sacrifice what we have in order to share to those in need? Can we give up our precious time in order to lend an ear to those who are lonely and grieving?

Prioritization of the Kingdom of God. “Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the Kingdom of God” (v. 60). We do have valid human concerns and we do value our relationships and family ties. But even these should not hinder us from doing our mission. The proclamation of the reign of God must be the priority of a disciple of Christ. Our human concerns and relationships take a secondary value. Jesus himself was consumed by nothing else but his passion for the reign of God. Everything for him, his family, his own personal concerns, was secondary. It is the proclamation of the reign of God that was central to his mission and gave direction to his own life.

In the face of growing secularization today, do we still see, in our lives, the values of the Kingdom God taking precedence over the values of this world? In the moments of significant decision-making in life, do we decide in favor of and in accordance with the values of God’s Kingdom? Or have we now put on the securalist mindset subscribing to the values of this world which seem to be more practical and attractive?

Single-minded Commitment. “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God” (v. 62). In other words, a disciple must make an unswerving commitment to his mission. Discipleship demands this single-mindedness. The Lord asks his followers to “burn their boats” as they disembark onto the shore of discipleship.  Like Alexander’s army, the Lord’s disciples have to face the challenges ahead unfazed and with a resolute commitment to win the battle. There is no turning back. Jesus himself has shown in today’s gospel that he was “resolutely determined” to journey to Jerusalem where the paschal mystery, his death and resurrection, was to happen.

Today we all deem it wise and practical to always have a back-up plan for any kind of engagement we enter into. In effect, we have wired failure into our subconscious.  We put forward one foot but we keep the other foot on safer ground “just in case.” We have become half-hearted in our commitments. We easily back off when the going gets rough and tough; hence, all the more that we experience failure.  The Lord sees a half-hearted disciple unfit for the kingdom of God. The Lord wants us to journey with him wholeheartedly. Single-mindedly.  In our journey with the Lord, are we keeping some back-up plans? Are we still vacillating? The gospel today asks us that, once and for all, we follow the Lord with undivided commitment. We are asked, as Alexander the Great asked his men, to burn our boats.

Let Love Alone Speak (5th Sunday Easter C)

I have a missionary friend who is stationed in China. There his identity as a priest is not publicly known. To reveal his identity as a Christian missionary will have serious and dangerous repercussions to his missionary work in a communist country. So he opts to be incognito. Curiously I asked him once about how he does his work of evangelization in a hostile environment when in fact he cannot openly preach the Gospel as I freely do here in the Philippines. I remember him answering, “I proclaim the Gospel by my way of living among the people there. I hope that through my witnessing, they will come to know Christ.”

Ahhh... that’s difficult, huh! It’s a lot easier to deliver eloquent homilies in our large cathedrals here! But my missionary friend is absolutely right. The gospel reading (Jn 13:31-33a, 34-35) today reminds us that essentially we announce to the world our relationship with Christ by the way we live. Or more particularly, by the way we love. Love is our mark as Christ’s disciples. In Jesus’ own words: “This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (v. 35). Charity then is our identity. Exercising charity in the manner we live is therefore our most essential proclamation of who we are and of our loving relationship with Christ.

I’m reminded of Pope Benedict XVI’s encyclical, Deus Caritas Est, which tackles quite extensively the theology on love and the Church’s responsibility to be a community of love. Paragraph no. 31 expresses beautifully the very point of my missionary friend and of today’s gospel: “Those who practise charity in the Church's name will never seek to impose the Church's faith upon others. They realize that a pure and generous love is the best witness to the God in whom we believe and by whom we are driven to love. A Christian knows when it is time to speak of God and when it is better to say nothing and to let love alone speak. He knows that God is love (cf. 1 Jn 4:8) and that God's presence is felt at the very time when the only thing we do is to love.”

Ah... beautiful and inspiring words! Let love alone speak! I’m honestly wondering, should I lose all these words I’m using, would I still be able to evangelize? Would love be visible in my life? When words fail, will my way of living still has the power to tell the world of God’s love?

A very important question for us to answer then is this: “How do we love?”

Oftentimes we love by giving gifts external to us like these four successful brothers who felt they needed to express their love and care for their elderly mother.  They discussed the gifts that they were able to give to her who lived far away in another city:

The first said, "I had a big house built for Mama."
The second said, "I had a hundred thousand dollar theater built in the house."
The third said, "I had my Mercedes dealer deliver her an SL600."
The fourth said, "Listen to this. You know how Mama loved reading the Bible and you know she can't read it anymore because she can't see very well. I met this priest who told me about a parrot that can recite the entire Bible. It took twenty priests and 12 years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $100,000 a year for twenty years to the church, but it was worth it. Mama just has to name the chapter and verse and the parrot will recite it."

The other brothers were impressed. After the holidays Mom sent out her thank you notes.  She wrote: 

"Milton, the house you built is so huge. I live in only one room, but I have to clean the whole house. Thanks anyway."

"Marvin, I am too old to travel. I stay home, I have my groceries delivered, so I never use the Mercedes. The thought was good. Thanks."

"Michael, you give me an expensive theatre with Dolby sound, it could hold 50 people, but all my friends are dead, I've lost my hearing and I'm nearly blind. I'll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same."

"Dearest Melvin, you were the only son to have the good sense to give a little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious. Thank you."

External gifts can be symbolic of our love but essentially love can only be effectively expressed through the gift of self. Our model in loving is Jesus himself. He instructs us to love one another AS HE HAS LOVED US. Jesus has given us not just any other gift but the gift of himself. He offered his life on the cross the day after he instructed his disciples of this commandment to love. This same self-sacrificial love will be the mark of his true disciples.

Today’s gospel then invites us to be faithful to our Christian identity and responsibility, i.e., charity. May the way we live be the way of love. In this world of secularism and materialism, may we continue to be the source of the spirit of love. May our day-to-day loving witness and self-giving proclaim to the world the love of God and attract many who are in search for meaningful lives to join the community of love which the Lord wants us to build. Let love alone speak.