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.”