The Father’s Embrace (4th Sunday Lent C)

“I don’t want my father to see me like this.” Many of us must have said this to ourselves during those times when we were not doing well in life and we didn't want to offend our father. Especially if our father has high expectations of us, we tend to hide our weaknesses and failures from him. We come to him only when we are fine and strong and at the top of the world. We want to show him how we have mastered ourselves and that we have clear directions in life. We want to please him. We want him to be proud of us. So, when we are not fine and our lives are a mess, we hide from him. We conceal our tears. We bear our suffering alone... because what we cannot bear is to see our father displeased and to experience being rejected by him.

This can be true to our spiritual life. How often we keep God at bay and allow our relationship with him to get colder each day because we have resigned to our feeling of unworthiness! I know, for instance, of someone whose prayer life is most intense when he thinks he has been doing well in life and he has been faithful to the Christian virtues. But when he thinks he has succumbed to his imperfections, he distances himself from God and waits until he has made himself fine again. It’s as if he can overcome his weaknesses apart from God!

Such is a lonely and wearisome life; because when things in life are in shambles, what we really need is a father’s embrace where we can cry our hearts out. In moments of huge failures, what we deeply long for is a father’s reassuring smile and a supportive pat on the back promising another chance.

In today’s gospel reading (Lk 15:1-3, 11-32) Jesus introduces such a gentle and loving Father through a parable. In the Parable of the Lost Son, it is striking to realize that when the wayward son comes back, the father does not care about WHY he comes back. He does not scrutinize his son’s motive which is not quite noble but is, in fact, still very selfish. The son returns not because of a perfect contrite heart and a burning desire to love his father this time around. No. He comes back for survival and self-preservation. He has been starving, so he thinks he’ll be better off as one of his father’s servants. But the father does not care whether or not his son comes back with a contrite heart. What he cares about is that his beloved son is back! So the father embraces his son without any conditions... without requirements. He embraces him as a son. The father accepts him not in the son’s conditional terms but in the terms known to the father—the terms of an unconditional love.

This thought is very consoling. The words of the spiritual writer, Henri Nouwen, bring this out well: “God does not require a pure heart before embracing us. Even if we return only because following our desires has failed to bring happiness, God will take us back... Even if we return because our sins did not offer as much satisfaction as we had hoped, God will take us back. Even if we return because we could not make it on our own, God will receive us. God’s love does not require any explanations about why we are returning. God is glad to see us home and wants to give us all we desire, just for being home.”

So why should we listen to the fearful voice that discourages us to come to the Father when we are not in good shape? We ought to listen, instead, to the voice of longing that calls out from the deepest recesses of our hearts for a gentle embrace of acceptance despite our hopeless inadequacies. Only God, our Father, can give us such an embrace. Only our Father embraces us as we truly are, warts and all.

This is why the season of Lent is as beautiful as the spring. It is a season when the Father’s loving embrace is waiting for us, his wayward sons and daughters, who have been chilling from the deadening coldness of our sins. God’s embrace is the warmth we desperately need in order to outgrow our freezing habits of sin.

In this season of Lent, we are invited to take refuge in God’s loving embrace. We come to him not because we are doing fine but especially because our mess is getting out of hand. We return to him not because our spiritual achievement is something that he can be proud of, but precisely because we are empty. We allow his arms to wrap around us not because we are whole but exactly because we are broken.

Father, I come to you in my brokenness repeatedly humiliated by sin. I’m ugly and not pleasing to you. But please... I beg you Father... embrace me just the same. Allow me to rest in the warmth of your love.

Season of Second Chances (3rd Sunday Lent C)

Once more, Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables (1862) comes to mind as I reflect on today’s gospel reading. The encounter between the protagonist, Jean Valjean, and Bishop Myriel is a powerful illustration of the grace of second chances.

Jean Valjean, who has just been freed from prison after long years of serving an unjust sentence for stealing bread for the starving family of his sister, has nowhere to go. He is hurt, filled with hatred, and is vengeful. No one trusts him. One day he comes to the place of Bishop Myriel and asks for shelter. Bishop Myriel is a just man and sympathetic toward the poor. With his characteristic compassion, he readily offers Valjean room and board. Not only that, he counsels Valjean to overcome his hatred with goodwill in order to be worthy of respect.

Valjean listens; but during the night, he robs the good bishop anyway and runs away with the bishop's silverware. Once caught, he is brought back to the bishop. However, the bishop tells the police that the precious objects are his gifts to Valjean. Later Bishop Myriel tells Valjean: "You belong no longer to evil, but to good. It is your soul I am buying for you. I withdraw it from dark thoughts and from the spirit of perdition and I give it to God!" Valjean is stunned. After stealing yet a coin from a little boy, he has an epiphany and since then lives his life anew.

Although Hugo’s novel is primarily a social critique on the oppression and injustices done against the poor, the weak, and the ignorant, it can instruct us spiritually too. The above excerpt illustrates the gospel’s call to repentance and the loving assurance of second chances in life.

In today’s gospel (Lk 13:1-9) two disasters (the killing of the Galileans and the Siloam tower tragedy) are being referred to, in the popular Jewish understanding, as God’s punishment for the sinners—very much like our concept of “gaba.” Jesus corrects this belief and teaches that what destroys is not God’s vengeance but our resistance to repent and change our lives: “But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will perish as they did” (v. 3, 5).

This is followed by the parable of the fig tree: For three years of waiting, the owner observes that the fig tree has failed to bear fruits. Even if the owner seems to be at the end of his rope, he nevertheless listens to the appeal of the vinedresser to give the tree one more year to bear fruits. If it does not, then it should be cut so as not to exhaust and put to waste the soil.

The simplicity of the parable expresses very clearly the necessity of repentance from a life lived in vain. God desires that we be fruitful. And not only that, he gives us the grace that we need to lead fruitful lives. He is willing to give us our second chance.

Bishop Myriel has manifested to Valjean such transforming mercy. Valjean, on his part, grabs the opportunity to make a radical change in his life and later in the lives of other people. Valjean has been given his second chance and he takes it. Once he does, he proves to be fruitful.

Lent can be for us a season of God’s mercy, God’s offer of a second chance. In this third week of Lent, we are invited to grab the opportunity to make meaningful changes in our lives. We are asked to examine the areas in our lives that have become stagnant and fruitless—perhaps because of anger and hatred? Or of self-pity and insecurities? Of addiction to pleasure and forms of vices? Of self-centeredness and lack of faith?

Let us ask the grace of repentance, of sorrow, of shame for wasting the beautiful opportunities of Christian life. With God’s grace, may we have a strong resolve to make use of our second chances to grow in Christian virtues thus allowing us to flourish and please God with our fruitful lives.

Lord, I am very sorry for my complacency. In your mercy, enable me to change, to grow, to do more and be more. Amen.

Beautiful Memories (2nd Sunday Lent C)

A beautiful testimony I’ll never forget is one from a husband and father who had to endure the distance between him and his family while working abroad. Asked about where he draws his strength to continue working despite the pressure from work in a foreign land and the gnawing loneliness of being away from home, he had this for an answer: “When I’m down and pressured, when I’m restless and lonely, when I’m disturbingly tempted, when I feel like giving up, I look at the picture of my lovely wife and son. Then I’m brought back to that beautiful memory when my son was born: I cuddled him in my arms very gently giving me for the first time the joy of being a father, then I handed him to my wife still lying on bed teary eyed. Seeing both of them together, I couldn't help but cry for joy because for the first time in my life, I felt what it meant to live with so much love and sense of purpose. From that moment on, I gained strength and confidence that see me through all the trials in life.”

Beautiful memories are promises of the enduring beauty of life even when it gets rough and tough.

In the spiritual life, beautiful experiences with God can see us through the darkness of desolation when it comes and sometimes lingers.

Only much later as a priest have I really appreciated what my spiritual director years ago would have me do.  He would help me articulate my uplifting encounters with God in prayer and in life. He would ask me to celebrate the joy of those intimate communions. He would tell me again and again to “relish and savor... relish and savor... stay there... take your time...” savor the love of God.  Because there will come a time, he would continue to remind me, that you will be in desolation-- when God is silent in times of your suffering, when life is dark and stormy.  On these trying times, the beautiful memories of God’s love are your only source of strength and the assurance that in time everything will turn out fine.

Today’s gospel account of the transfiguration event (Lk 9:28b-36) describes the beautiful experience of Jesus and of some of his disciples on the mountain: While Jesus was praying, His face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glory conversing with him. Peter and his companions saw his glory. A cloud overshadowed them and a voice was heard: “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.”

This event of the transfiguration happened right after the Lord had predicted his passion and death. Hence, this is meant to provide the disciples that needed beautiful experience and memory of the glory of Jesus the Lord. This beautiful memory will serve as their source of their strength and confidence when the hour of Jesus’ suffering comes. This beautiful experience is the promise of the Easter glory even as they all go through the fearful disorientation and insecurities set off by the passion and death of Jesus, the Christ, in Calvary.

As we journey on more deeply into the season of Lent, we are now being prepared for the contemplation of the suffering of Christ on account of the sin of the world. It is good for us, fainthearted people as we are, to be reassured of the eventual glorification of Jesus in Easter. While we delve into the mystery of the darkness and destructiveness of our sins, we are reminded all along of the illuminating and creative power of God’s grace.  This and not sin has the last say.

So, where do we draw strength when we are down and out? What gives us confidence to continue at times when life seems to be just a gruelling battle of uncertainties and even of suffering? When our sinfulness brings us into a frightening spiritual darkness, what gives us hope that allows us to move on and reach out to God like the one who rushes towards the beckoning light at the end of a long and dark tunnel?

Our reflection today points us to the importance of relishing and keeping alive our beautiful experiences of God in life and in our prayer. Is there a moment we can go back to when we have experienced that great joy of being loved by God? We need to relish these beautiful moments.  Relishing these joyful moments is vital to our discipleship because following Christ entails carrying his cross. With what strength will we walk to Calvary, if not with the Easter confidence given us by the beautiful memory of God’s faithful love?

Lord, how have you loved me? Allow me to savour every bit of the joy of being loved by you. And may this give me the confidence with which I shall face the Calvary of my life. Amen.

Temptation (1st Sunday Lent C)

It’s not uncommon to hear unfortunate stories of generous people who later turned sour because they were not given due recognition for their goodness. In parish life for instance, I’ve heard time and again of what has become a familiar drama of a parishioner who becomes active in community affairs and ministries and who donates generously for the needs of the Church. But when the person's name is not mentioned in the acknowledgment out of sheer oversight, the person is heard making a vow not to become part of any parish activities anymore.

It has become a daunting and sensitive task to do the acknowledgment even in religious functions!

I think the most subtle temptation we wrestle each day is the temptation to do what is good and noble for egoistic reasons. We do things, laudable things, to prove our greatness and to invite praises and admiration. We serve, for instance, in order to impress--- even if unwittingly.

Today’s gospel reading (Lk. 4:1-13) allows us to reflect on Jesus’ temptations in the desert. His way of handling his own temptations is, needless to say, instructive of how his followers are to face their own. Jesus in the gospel is facing that kind of temptation which compels him to do what seems to be good in order to prove his greatness. The catch in the tempter’s proposal is the phrase “If you are the Son of God...” All the three tempting proposals are premised upon this. “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread... make all these kingdoms yours and worship me... throw yourself down from the parapet of the temple and show how the angels will guard you...”

The phrase, “If you are the Son of God,” attractively appeals to pride and ego. Jesus’ temptations then are but the lure of proving his greatness by showing off that he has in his possession what the world expects of him: “Show us that you’re the man! Impress us! Wield your power, display your wealth, and flaunt your fame!”

To these, Jesus’ response is self-effacement. Exactly the opposite of what the world demands. Always, he points to the Father in heaven as reference of whatever greatness he has. For Jesus, his greatness and even the meaning of his life are not about what he can show off. His business is all about doing the will of the Father in the Father’s terms. These are the terms: not by display of power but by the redemptive capacity of suffering, not by allurement of wealth but by the lasting beauty of simplicity, not by egoistic exhibition of fame but by the self-effacing acceptance of humiliation. Only in these terms that Jesus brings glory, not to himself, but to the Father.

As it were, Jesus is pronouncing, “Yes, I am the Son of God... because I give glory to my Father!” Even in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus again pronounces, “Not my will but yours be done.” So that on the cross, when the last vestige of this temptation comes again in this similar proposal, “If you are the Messiah, save yourself and us,” Jesus consistently holds on to the terms of the Father: He embraces his ultimate act of self-effacement and the greatest possible humiliation of the Messiah--death.

Even in this season of Lent, we can quite easily fall into the pharisaic pit of hypocrisy by doing good, pious, charitable practices such as fasting, almsgiving, and prayer for the wrong reasons, selfish reasons—to show off our “holiness.” Jesus again reminds us that our business is to give glory not to our names but to the Father’s name.

Let us therefore take the season of Lent as our opportunity to examine our egoistic motivations. Let us be aware that temptations are not always revolting. On the contrary, temptations can be subtle, seemingly harmless and clothed in the guise of good so that for the most part they are unnoticeable. Hence, it is likely that our greatest temptation each day is doing what we believe is good but for our own glory. It is the temptation of hiding our egoistic inclinations beneath what seems to be our virtue of altruism.

Give me the grace to live each day for the greater glory of Your Name. Amen.