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.

Preparation (1st Sunday Advent A)

In November of 2013, the monster typhoon Yolanda devastated the portion of Central Philippines. In the face of the rising casualties of the strongest typhoon ever recorded in history and the apparent initial lack of efficiency in responding to the needs of the survivors, it was said that no amount of preparation could have forestalled the magnitude of the impact of the supertyphoon.  So that even if the supertyphoon was rightly predicted to be one of the strongest in history and warnings had been alarmed, when it actually landed, the people and the government just the same were ill-prepared for its monstrosity. In the aftermath, rescue and relief operations struggled to get through the wreckage causing great delay in responding to the emergency needs of cities and towns directly hit. This meant more deaths and more suffering.

Whether we bought such assessment or not, still the lesson was clear: We cannot belittle the value of preparation.  Now that we had a taste of the wrath of a cataclysmic typhoon, we have to learn how to prepare better.

Our gospel reading (Mt. 24:37-44), on this first Sunday of Advent, has a clear single theme—preparation. “Therefore, stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come. Be sure of this: if the master of the house had known the hour of night when the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and not let his house be broken into. So too, you also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come” (v. 42-44).

Advent is a season of preparation for the coming of our Lord.  We understand the coming of our Lord in three ways:  First, historically. Jesus came to us at a specific point in history at Bethlehem about 2000 years ago.  Second, majestically. The Lord, Alpha and Omega, will come to judge the living and the dead in the Second Coming.  And third, mystically. The Redeemer comes to us in grace. He speaks to us in our consciences; he comes to us in the Eucharist and in the Word of God proclaimed. He arrives in the person of the beggar, the needy, the suffering, the oppressed, and the imprisoned.

Our advent preparations, then, may be expressed in three distinct characteristics—that of a joyful commemoration of Christ’s incarnation, that of a hopeful anticipation of the glory of the Lord, and that of a faithful daily commitment to the Lord’s presence.

Joyful Commemoration.  Advent is preparation for Christmas. As such, it leads us to look back to the time in history when the longing of the people for the Messiah was finally answered. The Savior was born. Joy to the world! The season of Advent commemorates that sense of longing and the joy of the fulfillment of God’s promise.  This preparation is an act of remembering and of keeping alive such longing for the Lord and such joy of having the Lord with us.  Therefore, despite our present hardships in life, the season of Advent reminds us to give room for joy in our hearts as we keep alive our memories of the Lord’s birth.

Hopeful Anticipation. Advent is preparation not only for Christmas. As today’s gospel reminds us, we need to “stay awake” and “be prepared” for the coming of the Son of Man. This particularly alludes to the glorious Second coming of our Lord. This preparation ought not to be out of fear but out of hope. The Day of the Lord is God’s justice and God’s justice is the vindication of those who have been faithful to his words. As hopeful anticipation, Advent reminds us that there is sense in being faithful to God despite increasing lack of faith around us; there is value in always choosing the good amid the predominance of sinful situations we find ourselves in; there is a point in upholding the truth even if I sacrifice my life in the process. These are all meaningful because we trust in the majestic coming of the Lord; we anticipate his justice with hope.

Faithful Daily Commitment.  Advent invites us not only to look back with joy and to look ahead with hope; it also allows us to prepare for the Lord’s coming each day.  I believe that this is the key to authentic preparation: Our faithfulness to our daily Christian commitments. When the gospel calls for vigilance in preparation for the unknown hour of the Lord’s coming, in effect it calls for moral alertness every single day of our lives.  As for St. Paul in the second reading (Rom 13:11-14), he has this to say:  “It is the hour now for you to awake from sleep… let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in promiscuity and lust, not in rivalry and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.” Advent invites us to be faithful to Jesus each day.

Today, we start another liturgical year with the first Sunday of Advent. Both our traumatic experience and the season of Advent teach us an important thing:  the value of preparation.  May this grace-filled season of Advent, indeed, be for us a meaningful preparation for the coming of the Lord whom we welcome with joy, with hope, and fidelity.

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.

The Day of the Lord (33rd Sunday Ordinary C)

The Dome of the Rock

The oracle of the Lukan Jesus in today’s gospel foretold the destruction of the Holy Temple of Jerusalem: “All that you see here—the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down” (Lk 21:6).  Indeed today in Jerusalem, what stands very proudly on the very site of the glorious temple is a Muslim mosque with an eye-catching golden dome that stands out when one takes a panoramic view of the city from afar. It’s the “Dome of the Rock” which now houses the foundational stone of the Jerusalem temple where the Jews used to worship God. What remains of the temple is the Western Wall. It is on this site now that the religious Jews pray. On this wall, also called the Wailing Wall, they continue to mourn and weep over the loss of the temple of God.

In today’s gospel reading (Lk 21: 5-19), Luke blends the historical event of the temple’s destruction and the apocalyptic description of the end times. The Lukan Jesus pronounces the oracle and, when asked about the time of its happening, responds with the description of the end times and what will presage the end—calamities, wars, and persecutions. Likewise, the first reading (Mal 3:19-20a) describes the end time as the day of the justice of God.

Each time we come to the end of the liturgical year our readings are those of the apocalyptic writings describing the end times. This is not to frighten us but to give us the opportunity to set our sight beyond the present concerns in this earthly life. We may have been too engrossed with either the pains of our life struggles or the joys of our temporal successes, too enmeshed in the magnitude of our contemporary concerns to see with hope what lies beyond this earthly pilgrimage.

Reflecting on the end times is not meant to scare us or to lose heart; it is not meant to paralyze us with fear. Today’s readings in particular allow us to face the end of time well prepared by heeding these two calling: The call to repentance and the call to steadfastness in faith.

The call to repentance. The first reading describes the end as the day of God’s justice. It is a day “blazing like an oven, when all the proud and all evildoers will be stubble” and will be set on fire. But for those who fear the name of God, “there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays” (Mal 3:19-20a).  

The end is when we experience the definitive justice of God. While on earth, life seems to be unfair many times. Evil doers seem to prosper while good people suffer persecutions. But when the day of the Lord comes, God will set all things straight. Indeed, our moral life has repercussions on the afterlife. We cannot do evil and not be held responsible for it.

We may do well then to heed the invitation to repent and to “fear the name of God.” This can mean rising up from our complacency and self-centered way of living. This can also mean shaking ourselves out of our pride and conceited sense of self-sufficiency as if we do not need God. Repentance can also take the form of turning away from our evil deeds by committing ourselves to actively help dismantle the structures of sins which we may have participated in.

The "Wailing Wall"

The call to steadfastness in faith. It is very easy to create our own wailing walls where we can continue to mourn and weep for our losses. With the super typhoons mercilessly buffeting our cities and towns, with the earthquakes leaving our homes, churches, offices, bridges, and other infrastructures in ruins, with wars dashing our hopes for harmony and peace among peoples and cultures, it is very easy to lose heart, to doubt in God’s goodness, to be paralyzed by hopelessness, and to give in to evil means of survival.

Yet the message of Luke to his people then is the same message we need to listen to now. The apocalyptic writings of Luke in today’s gospel, announces hardships, sufferings, calamities, and tribulations as presage to the coming of the end. While there is no telling of the definite time of the end, we are called to face whatever hardships and tribulations with steadfastness in faith.

To be steadfast in our faith is to have the courage to give testimony to the goodness of God amidst seeming contrary evidences of destructions around us because we know that it is sin that causes these havoc and not God. God only has grace to see us through all the sufferings.

To be steadfast in faith is to persevere in the face of hatred and looming death because we trust that God will protect us as he has promised: “not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives” (Lk 21: 18). Even death cannot harm those who have been faithful to God.

As we come to the end of our liturgical year, let us see our lives, our important commitments, our endless concerns, our joys and sorrows, our successes and failures in the light of our eternal destiny. Everything will pass away. Great temples we have built can easily crumble leaving us only ruins where we can lament and wail. We look beyond this earthly life without relinquishing our responsibility to make this a beautiful place to live in. As we do, let us always be reminded of our call—to repent and to be steadfast in our faith.

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 Prayer of the Anawim (30th Sunday Ordinary C)

Anawim is a Hebrew word which means the “Poor Ones” who utterly depended on the Lord for deliverance. Originally, this referred to the physically and materially poor of Israel who did not have anyone to provide for them, hence, were totally dependent on Yahweh. Gradually this socio-economic condition was transformed into a spiritual posture. Anawim, then, came to refer more widely to people of any social category who could not rely in their own strength but manifest the spiritual disposition of utter dependence on God. Hence, the opposite of the anawim is not simply the materially rich but the conceited self-sufficient who show no need of God’s help. 

The anawim’s cry is certain to be heard as Sirach announces in today’s first reading (Sir 35:12-14, 16-18): The Lord is not deaf to the wail of the orphans, nor to the widow when she pours out her complaint… The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds; it does not rest till it reaches its goal, nor will it withdraw till the Most High responds…”

The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector in the today’s gospel reading (Lk 18:9-14) points to the importance of the humble disposition that must accompany our prayers. This interior disposition is that of the anawim. The parable illustrates how the tax collector goes home justified in God’s eyes because he has assumed the lowly and humble moral posture of the anawim and how ironically the very religious Pharisee goes home unjustified in the sight of God because his thanksgiving is full of conceit and self-glorification.

If the gospel reading last Sunday reminded us of the necessity of perseverance in prayer, today, the readings invite us to grow in humility, the lowly interior disposition of the anawim as we approach God in prayer.

How do we manifest genuine humility in our prayer? It is when we come before the Lord AS WE ARE  and AS GOD SEES US.

As we are, we come before the Lord in prayer. We are sinners; we come before the Lord without hiding our brokenness and sinfulness. There is no need to be defensive in the Lord’s presence as we do in the face of judgmental people around us. We need not be ashamed of our spiritual poverty. Let us cry out to God out of our lowliness for “the Lord hears the cry of the poor.” The tax collector in the parable went home justified because he prayed to God as he was, as a lowly and unworthy sinner who depended only on God’s mercy for his justification.

As we are, we come also with good things for we are not totally overcome by sin. We discover that, by God’s grace, we can do virtuous deeds. So we come to the Lord with grateful hearts. But our thanksgiving must not be like that of the Pharisee who thanked the Lord because of his feeling of superiority over the other people. The Pharisee’s thanksgiving did not glorify God’s name but extolled himself with praises for his “virtuous” deeds. His thanksgiving is filled with conceit and pride. On our part, then, we come to the Lord as we are; no need to compare ourselves with others and show that we are better than them. No. We just come before the Lord with grateful hearts because we have done well in life only on account of the grace of God. It is His grace that makes our life meaningful and hopeful.

As God sees us, we come before the Lord in prayer. We come before Him not as others see us or as we see ourselves. People’s judgments about us and our own self-assessment do not really matter. What matters is how God sees us. What justifies is God’s loving and merciful gaze.

The Pharisee was esteemed highly by people of his time for his piety and religiosity, for his faithful and strict compliance of the law. He also held himself in high esteem as seen in his self-glorification. But all these did not matter for his justification. God was not pleased with him. Only God’s assessment matters. On the other hand, the tax collector was seen by all as a sinner by profession. He also saw himself as such. But, again, what matters is God’s loving and merciful gaze which sent this lowly man justified.

So when we come before the Lord, there is no use pretending. There is no use glorifying our own moral achievements. The Lord humbles those who exalt themselves; but he exalts those who are lowly. Let us come then before the Lord as we are and as God sees us. We come before the Lord as His anawim, whose cry never fails to move His love and mercy.

Gratitude (28th Sunday Ordinary C)

A soul made it to heaven and was welcomed by St. Peter who graciously led him and showed him the different sections in heaven. They came to a section where a host of angels were all very busy reading letters.

“This is the ‘Receiving Section.’ In this room all prayer requests are received and processed,” St. Peter explained. The newly arrived soul indeed noticed that the angels were preoccupied with the volume of letters from all over the world, perhaps trying to categorize each request in terms of priority.

St. Peter and the soul moved on and arrived at the next section. Here, a great number of angels were even more busy wrapping things and labeling them.  “This is the ‘Packaging and Delivery Section,’ said St. Peter.  The soul was awed by the sheer magnitude of the gifts and blessings of every kind being prepared and delivered to the different corners of the world.

(Photo grabbed from http://www.ccar.us)

Then they reached the last section. The soul was astonished with what he observed. There was only one angel stationed in that section and the angel was doing nothing.

“Why is this section very quiet? What is this for?” asked the perplexed new comer.

St. Peter replied with sadness in his voice, “This is the ‘Acknowledgment Section.’ It is sad that after the prayers had been granted, only few people remember to give thanks.”

Today, in the gospel reading (Lk 17:11-19), Jesus is pained by the fact that, among the ten lepers he had cleansed, only the Samaritan came back to give thanks. “Where are the other nine?” Jesus asked, probably with deep sadness.

Hence, today we are invited to reflect on the theme of gratitude as our readings lead us.

An evident parallelism between the Elisha-Naaman narrative (2 Kngs 5:14-17) and the Jesus-Samaritan account easily catches our attention as we read the first and the gospel readings. Naaman and the Samaritan were both cured of their leprosy; second, they were both regarded as “foreigner;” and lastly, both also expressed their gratitude for the great favor received by glorifying and worshiping God. Let us reflect on each of these elements.

Experience of God who heals.  Leprosy then was a dreadful disease. To have it would mean losing everything; suffering from it would mean total alienation: from self, from loved ones, and even from God. When Jesus cured the ten lepers, he instructed them to show themselves to the priests. The priest’s confirmation that a leper had been totally healed and cleansed was significant in the process of reintegration to the community. The leper’s experience of healing then was a tremendous experience of being made whole again: an experience of regaining one’s lost dignity and self-respect, of reuniting with loved ones, and of reconciliation with God.  Such tremendous favor could not have failed to evoke deep gratitude. Naaman and the Samaritan experienced the great kindness and mercy of God. Hence, their hearts were filled with gratitude.

God makes us whole. God heals our brokenness. He gives back our self-respect. He reunites us with people we care about. He embraces us back in reconciliation. With this tremendous act of God’s goodness, how can our hearts possibly not well up with gratitude? What heart is not moved to tears of gratitude by so great a favor from this loving God?

Gratitude for undeserved grace.  The fact that Naaman and the Samaritan were considered foreigners and yet were blessed with God’s healing grace highlights the element of gratuity on God’s part and a deeper sense of gratitude on the part of the lepers.  Both Naaman and the Samaritan could have felt their unworthiness precisely because of the fact that they did not belong to the “chosen people” of God. They did not deserve God’s healing grace.  Yet they experienced it.  All the more that they felt indebted and were moved to give thanks.

The other nine did not come back to thank the Lord. Were they overwhelmed by the experience so as not to remember to say “thank you”? Or was this a case of the sense of entitlement on their part? Maybe in their heart of hearts, they believed that they received what was due to them; so as a matter of claiming what was rightfully theirs, there was no need of giving thanks.

Hence, for us to be grateful, let us see God’s grace and blessings as gifts freely given. We do not deserve to be shown great kindness and care by this Almighty God, yet we joyfully experience his love anyway.

Gratitude leads to true worship. Naaman, having been healed, asked permission to make a sanctuary in order to offer a sacrifice no longer to the pagan gods he used to worship but to the Lord of Israel alone. The Samaritan likewise returned “glorifying God in a loud voice.”

Indeed, gratitude leads to true worship. When we experience the undeserved grace of God, let our gratitude bring us into a meaningful worship of God. The Eucharist actually means thanksgiving and it is in fact the highest form of worship we offer to God. Let our celebration of the Eucharist then be truly a thanksgiving to the Father, through Jesus, the Son, and in the power of the Holy Spirit. Let our celebration be marked by the joy of our grateful hearts. 

Not Counting the Cost (27th Sunday Ordinary C)

Can God ever be held indebted to us? When we render Him service, when we do sacrifices for him, when we offer him our lives under perpetual vows, for instance, have we done God a great favor? And does God, then, owe us his gratitude? Can we make a claim on God? Can we demand from him his kindness and mercy as if these were due to us by right?

(photo from http://newsinfo.inquirer.net)

Don’t we usually expect God to be generous to us or to be ready to grant our prayers precisely because we have been faithful to his commands? Human as we are, we do tend to view our relationship with God, as we view our human relationships, within the framework of commutative justice. We somehow see our relationship as a contract between two parties: I render you my services, my time, and my skills and you, in turn, give me the compensation that I deserve. Because of this mentality, many a times we demand as a right some recognition and reward for the good things that we have done. And if we do not get what we have expected, we turn sour and we become unhappy and we begin to lose our enthusiasm in serving.

Yes, we expect God to act within our concept of justice so much so that many times we cry “unfair!” when our expectations are not met. Or we simply and secretly harbor an ill feeling deep within us. But we need to understand that we drag God into this talk of justice only because we have been oblivious of the fact that whatever resources we harness in serving, like our skills, energy, talents, time, even our lives, are not ours but God’s. Even the very opportunity to serve is a graced moment offered to us by God. We demand reward because, in the first place, we have failed to see that everything that we have and are is a gift.

The vocation to serve as a duty. The parable of the homecoming servant in today’s gospel reading (Lk 17:5-10) sheds light on the right attitude called for by our Christian vocation to serve. In the parable, the master does not invite to sit with him at table his servant who just came home from working in the field. Rather, he asks the servant to prepare the table for him and wait on him while he eats. The fact that the servant has already worked in the field does not give him a claim of gratitude on his master. Those who render services for which they are employed deserve nothing more than what the terms of the agreement provide.

This is also true to Jesus’ disciples. In Jesus’ words: “When you have done all you have been commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do’” (v. 10).

The vocation to serve as a gift. The point of the parable is that our Christian vocation is itself a gift. Our act of serving, as a vocation, does not give us a claim on the Lord. In the words of Roland Faley, TOR: In being the beneficiaries of God’s saving work in Christ, his followers are already “gifted”; anything to which they are subsequently called as Christians is, as might be said, done “in the line of duty.”

Hence, we cannot rightly demand God’s added favor and graciousness as due to us. Yet, God is in fact gracious to us. And this is not because He owes us. His grace is always free. It is freely given—a gift. We don’t work for it; we even do not deserve it. So these good things that come to us in our Christian life ought to be received in the spirit of gratitude. Since God does not owe us anything, his favor, when it pours, should always catch us by surprise.

Generosity in serving. As Christ’s true disciples then, the right disposition in living out our vocation to serve is that of generosity and self-giving. Let us be inspired by the prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola:

Lord, teach me to be generous.
Teach me to serve you as you deserve;
to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and not to seek for rest,
to labor and not to ask for reward,
save that of knowing that I do your will.

If only we can all take this prayer to heart, we can accomplish many more great things for God’s kingdom here on earth.

Looking back, what are the things which I refused to actively engaged in because I counted the cost or I did not see the reward I expected to get out of it?

What were those moments when I felt unhappy serving or I harbored ill feelings because I was not given “due” recognition?

A story to end: A friend of mine who takes the gospel seriously in her life shared to me her experiences in serving as a volunteer in the evacuation centers in Zamboanga during that historical "Zambonga Siege." While distributing food to the evacuees, it became apparent to her that many of the families she was serving were most likely families of those who attacked the city. They were mostly women and children. She began to feel angry and tempted to stop serving. But she continued because, according to her, the gospel imperative was very clear to her. Even if she found no reward in what she was doing, even if she was battling with her own disturbing emotions, she could not turn her back to her calling to serve those who are suffering at present.

This friend of mine has made me confident that, indeed, there are still true disciples of Christ who are ready to tell anyone, “We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.”