A Million Dollar Question (21st Sunday Ordinary A)

The great Fr. Juan Sanz, who was a very patient spiritual director to me and was many other things to countless other people when he was alive, would remind me again and again of a basic Ignatian principle.  “If you were to serve God joyfully, you’ve gotta love Him most dearly. Okay? But if you were to love God dearly, you’ve gotta know Him first intimately.  Clear?”  This is the simplest and maybe the clearest way of explaining what St. Ignatius believed as the purpose of man’s life:  To know, to serve, and to love God. In this triadic calling, one element is foundational to the other; of all three, the most basic is to know God.

Do you know God intimately?

Today’s gospel reading (Mt. 16: 13-20) recounts a very significant moment in the life of Jesus’ disciples especially Peter and in the life of what was to become the Church.  In this gospel episode that transpired in the region of Caesaria Philippi, Jesus fires the million dollar question:  Who do you say I am? Maybe we can paraphrase this with “Do you really know me?”

But first, Jesus asks the disciples the easier question, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?”  The disciples are very quick to answer, most probably even in chorus trying to be the first to reply, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets” (v. 14).

It’s quite easy for the disciples to report to Jesus how people perceive him.  But Jesus’ real concern is not the opinion of other people.  If his disciples were to be the foundation of his Church, it is of utmost importance that they know him intimately and personally.  So Jesus fires the million dollar question.

“But who do YOU say that I am?”  This time no one answers... except the great Simon Peter. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”   Correct!  Jesus affirms Peter by assuring him that it is God the Father who reveals this truth to him for no “flesh and blood” (which means human power) can do it. On the basis of Peter’s profession, Jesus calls him “Peter,” the rock, who, right there and then, is designated as the foundation of the Church: “...and upon this rock I will build my church” (v. 18).

Peter’s intimate knowledge of Jesus is the very foundation of loving and serving God all throughout the centuries as the Church headed by Peter and his successors do what she is sent to do.

Again we can never overemphasize this crucial fact:  To know God intimately is of utmost significance to our relationship with God be it on the level of personal and individual or of collective and ecclesial.

Today, we may do well to allow the scripture to confront us too. “Who do you say I am?” What is our response to this? We probably notice that, as in the case of Jesus’ disciples, it is easier for us to describe God according to what we have heard, read, and seen from external sources.  We have plenty of opinions about God. Opinions from our parents, catechists, preachers, pastors, retreat directors, etc.  It would be a real tragedy in our spiritual and ecclesial life if for long we have been maintaining a relationship to an opinion of God.  God is not an opinion. God is not an important piece of information, a fact that our head considers.  God is not even a doctrine that we debate about or wish to memorize in an orthodox formula.

God is someone who loves us personally. God is someone who reveals himself to us inviting us to love him in return. To know this God is to encounter him in our life. Knowing him means experiencing him in quite a personal way.  For God, this is what matters and not so much our ideas and concepts about him. 

Again, the million dollar question: Who do you say I am? Like Peter, are we ready to give an answer to this yet?

Fr. Sanz taught me a secret:  “If you wish to know God intimately, ask for the grace.”  We can only know God as He allows it. We can only experience God as He reveals himself. No amount of unaided human insight can truly realize whom we are dealing with.  Peter knew who Jesus was because the Father revealed to him. The other disciples listened to the voices around them; hence, got the opinions of other people about Jesus.  Peter, however, listened to the voice inside him—the voice of God who reveals.

God is constantly communicating with us. He is a God who relates. In Trinitarian theology, some theologians propose that “relations” is an ontological property of God, meaning, God’s very being is relationship.  And indeed, the scripture reveals that God is love. Love cannot be in isolation. Hence, we can correctly assume that God constantly relates with us.  The only venue for such relationship to be meaningful is our human experience.  Therefore, to know God is to encounter him in our daily experiences.  Do we have time to examine where God is working in our life?  Do we find deeper meaning in our otherwise ordinary routine in life? Do we encounter God in what we do in life? What kind of a God does my life reveal to me? 

Again, the million dollar question: Who do you say I am?

Lord, give me the grace to know you intimately and personally so that, in knowing you, I can love you most dearly, and in loving you, I can serve you joyfully.

When God Plays Hard to Get (20th Sunday Ordinary A)

One hot summer afternoon, I was amazed to see a bromeliad on a pot blooming with beautiful flower when everything around it was dry and parched. It had not rained for days. I called the attention of one of the priests in the house.  His background in agriculture came in handy for the explanation I was asking. He told me that bromeliads need “stress” in order to bloom.  When they get plenty of water and fertilizer, they develop into much bigger plants, even double their original size, with pupping increased but flowering is put off for another year at least. To bloom with flowers, they have to be subjected to stress by suppressing water and fertilizer.  

When everything in its surrounding was parched, that bromeliad bloomed because it had been under stress.  It’s cool, don’t you think so? I see the growth of our faith quite the same way.  Some sort of stress is needed for our faith to bloom.  Today’s gospel (Mt. 15: 21-28), for instance, illustrates how Jesus put under stress the initial faith of the Canaanite woman in order for it to bloom and merit Jesus’ exclamation, “O woman, great is your faith!”

The first stress is God’s silence. The woman calling out on Jesus is given the cold shoulder at first.  Jesus does not say anything.  Silence as a response to a desperate prayer can be unnerving.  When God is silent in the face of our suffering, our faith is shaken.  Sometimes our faith needs to be shaken to rouse it from the slumber of mediocrity.

Next is the stress of exclusion.  The Canaanite woman is made to understand that she does not belong to those whom Jesus is sent.  The disciples of Jesus wants her dismissed and Jesus adds insult to injury by implying that she is, indeed, not part of his mission. His mission is only for the lost sheep of the house of Israel.  The woman, a Canaanite, is not a member of the house of Israel.  To be excluded from a family is alienating.  It brings insecurity.  To be made aware of the fact that one does not belong to the family of God is perhaps the ultimate experience of alienation and insecurity.

The ultimate stress is that of humiliation. The woman, not giving up, faces the ultimate test of faith—being called a dog! This humiliation strips off her dignity. She is reduced to nothing! She is made to feel her complete unworthiness! But still, acceding to her utter worthlessness, she believes that God’s grace has something in store even for the unworthy. “Even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters” (v. 27).

Such is the greatness of the Canaanite woman’s faith.  When everything is lost, even her dignity, she humbly clings to only one thing:  THE UNDESERVED GRACE OF GOD.  And she gets it flooding on her way as she hears Jesus exclaimed, “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish” (v. 28).

Today’s gospel then instructs us that when God plays hard to get, it is not because God does not care; it is because God wants to see our faith bloom.  God wants not a mediocre faith or an average faith. God wants a GREAT faith! And God knows that each of us can have such a faith if we allow him to help us.

An average faith worships and praises God because “God is good...  all the time.”  The experience of God’s abundant grace in our life makes us grateful to God. Hence, our praises to his mighty name.  But such faith has to grow.  Abundance can spoil our faith.  It can create in us a sense of entitlement.
What if God suddenly becomes silent and distant? What if, in the words of Fr. Thomas Green, the well runs dry?  What if we experience the “dark night of the soul” described by St. John of the Cross?  Will we remain steadfast?  

An insight from today’s gospel therefore is this:  Growth towards greatness of faith is a process of stripping off even the last shred of our sense of entitlement to God’s grace.  Great faith emerges from the humble position of sheer unworthiness on our part but with a certain conviction that God cares nevertheless.

When God plays hard to get with us, it’s good to remember the bromeliads.  It is only when they are put under stress that they bloom with precious and beautiful flowers.  God plays hard to get because he wants our faith to grow to its fullness.  God wants us to have what the Canaanite woman in today’s gospel eventually possessed—GREAT FAITH—nothing less.

Mary’s Heavenly Glory (Solemnity of the Assumption)

On November 1, 1950, in the bull Munificentissimus Deus, Pope Pius XII solemnly and infallibly declared it to be a divinely revealed dogma “that the Immaculate Mother of God, the ever Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.” 

This official declaration in 1950 was the culmination of long held beliefs and practices since the early Christian communities. The first trace of belief in the Virgin's Assumption can be found in the apocryphal accounts entitled Transitus Mariae [Latin, “The Crossing Over of Mary”], whose origin dates to the second and third centuries. Moreover, St. John Damascene, a Church Father often referred to as the Doctor of the Assumption due to his writings on the Assumption of Mary, writes that the Virgin’s empty tomb was attested to at the Council of Chalcedon in 451. In England, the belief in the assumption of Mary has been depicted already in the pre-reformation art in the York Minster. And in the 9th century, Pope Saint Leo IV confirmed the feast of the Assumption though it had already been celebrated for centuries. 

We see, thus, that way back in the period of the Church Fathers, just after the time in which the books of the bible were written, the belief in the assumption had strong support from important church people then. It may even be said that the writers of the gospels had an awareness of the belief, but simply didn’t express it in their writings explicitly. The official definition of the Assumption certainly complements and does not contradict what is written in the Scriptures. 

In the gospel reading (Lk 1:39-56) for instance, we see the beginnings of how Mary is involved in the history of salvation. Right after the story of the annunciation follows this account of the visitation. In these wonderful narratives and in Mary’s Canticle, we see how “God has done great things” for Mary. In the annunciation, Mary is greeted by the angel of God as “full of grace,” and received the assurance “The Lord is with you.” In the visitation, Mary is said to be the “Mother of my Lord” and “Blessed among women.” In Mary’s Magnificat, she exults in God’s goodness to her and says “All generations will call me blessed!” and continues to testify, “The Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name.” 

All these great things that the Scripture says God has done to Mary support and jibe with the belief that Mary, who was chosen by God to be the Immaculate mother of his Son, in the end of the course of her life, was assumed into heaven by God. We should note that the assumption of our Lady is not by her own powers and merits but by God’s power and gracious will. 

Celebrating this Solemnity fortifies our confidence that God, the Almighty, in His goodness and wisdom, does great things for us his beloved children as He has shown to our Mother Mary. 

The second reading (1 Cor 15:20-27), furthermore, allows us to see the mystery of Mary’s Assumption in the light of Christ’s victory over death. St. Paul talks about Christ as the first fruit of the resurrection. Through his resurrection, all things, which were once dead because of Adam, shall be brought to life in Christ. Here, Paul acknowledges Christ as a powerful ruler who subjects all his enemies (sin and evil) and death under his feet. It is our recognition of this power of Christ that strengthens our conviction that Mary, Christ’s own mother, who is immaculately conceived and full of grace, is assumed to heaven body and soul. Mary is the first fruit of Christ’s salvific act. 

Our journey is a journey in hope. Amid seeming insurmountable difficulties we face each day, we find strength to move on as we are assured by pledges of future glory, especially that of Jesus’ own resurrection. Celebrating this Feast of the Assumption brings to our consciousness a further pledge of our resurrection. None of the early Christian communities claimed to have the body of Mary. Mary is in glory, body and soul, for Jesus has already shared with her what we hope he will share with us. 

We discern here, therefore, the relevance of this dogma to our everyday lives. Pope Benedict XVI expressed it beautifully in his general audience on August 16, 2016: 

“By contemplating Mary in heavenly glory, we understand that the earth is not the definitive homeland for us either, and that if we live with our gaze fixed on eternal goods we will one day share in this same glory and the earth will become more beautiful.” 

“Consequently, we must not lose our serenity and peace even amid the thousands of daily difficulties. The luminous sign of Our Lady taken up into Heaven shines out even more brightly when sad shadows of suffering and violence seem to loom on the horizon.” 

As we celebrate today the Solemnity of the Assumption of Mary, we can be confident of this: From on high, Mary follows our footsteps with gentle concern, dispels the gloom in moments of darkness and distress, and reassures us with her motherly hand.

Let us, therefore, continue with confidence on our journey of Christian commitment trusting that the Almighty will do great things for us as He has done to Mary. Under the guidance of Mary, our Mother, let us forge ahead in our lives.

The God of Silence (19th Sunday Ordinary A)

God was not in the stormy wind rending the mountains and crushing the rocks, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire.  Elijah encountered God in the “sound of silence”—in the tiny whispering sound (1 Kgs 19: 9-13).

God’s presence in the ordinary day-to-day events. Almost always greatness is demonstrated by grandiosity—like the astounding display of a multi-million-peso worth of fireworks, the construction of a huge and dominating elaborate edifice, the preparation of an unparalleled hero’s welcome, etc.  Going by this line of thinking, we easily expect God to work in mind-boggling, nature-defying miracles or to reveal God’s self in awesome, jaw-dropping theophanies.  All because God is God; and God is great!

God can do this of course.  But God does communicate with us, more often than we ever notice, in a commonplace fashion, in a non-obtrusive way, in a tiny whispering sound as in the case of Elijah.  The problem is, most of us do not have the slightest suspicion that God in is the ordinary and everyday routine of our lives.  Furthermore, when God is silent, we easily take it to mean that God does not care at all.

God’s presence in the storms of life. In today’s gospel (Mt. 14:22-33), Peter and the other disciples encountered Jesus as a reassuring and calm presence amid the waves that tossed about their boat. “It is I; do not be afraid,” was the assurance of Jesus to his terrified disciples.

Today’s readings assure us of the abiding presence of God whether in our most trying moments or in the humdrum of our daily responsibilities. God is always with us.  God is maybe silent but not absent for sure.

Do I have faith in the God of silence?

Where is God when my only son committed suicide? Where is God when our livelihood and properties were all washed away by flood?  Where is God in my moments of unbearable pain wrought by this vicious cancer?  Where is God when my daughter, our only hope to rise from this miserable life, had an unwanted pregnancy? These can go on and on as an endless litany of other excruciating cries that betray our lack of trust in God whose silence we don’t understand.

Where is God during the storms of our lives?

We see the storm quite clearly as we tremble in fear; but we fail to notice the hand of God reaching out to us.  Just like Peter, when he got out of the boat and started walking on the water toward Jesus, he was distracted by the strong wind.  He allowed his fears to creep in and lost his focus on Jesus.  There and then, he started to sink (vv.  30).

This is true with our lives.  We focus on the storms too much.  God is left unnoticed.   We walk through life with so much burden and pain, insecurities and fears while all along God silently accompanies us, always reaching out his saving hand.  And we don’t notice it, perhaps, until we sink into the pit of despair and start to panic for dear life.

Our invitation is to see the saving hand of God in any storm of life. Like Peter, we need to fix our eyes on God and ask for God’s saving hand. What storm has been buffeting my life?  Do I have faith in the silent but reassuring presence of God seeing me through these difficult times?

May the readings today, make known to us the God of silence—the God whose presence is as unobtrusive as a faint sound of a whisper.  It is God’s silence that tests the sensitivity of faith on our part when we face the turmoil of our storms in life. God is with us either in the ordinary daily grind or in the most trying events of our lives. May this truth build our confidence in facing any storm in life. The Lord is just right there in the middle of the storm reaching out his hand to save us. “It is I. Do not be afraid.”

Listen to Him (Feast of the Transfiguration)

Today’s gospel account of the transfiguration event (Mt. 17:1-9) describes the beautiful experience of Jesus and three of his disciples, Peter, James, and John, 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 beloved Son, on whom my favor rests; listen to him.”

Allow me to offer two points for our reflection on this Feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord. First, growing in confidence amid the hardships in life; second, growing in obedience as our path to a truly blessed life.

Growing in confidence amid the hardships in life. We grow in confidence by relishing our beautiful experiences of God. Let us remember that 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.

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.

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 beautiful experiences with God can see us through the darkness of desolation when it comes and sometimes lingers. Relishing these beautiful experiences helps us grow in confidence amid the hardships in life. Is there a moment we can go back to when we have experienced that great joy of being loved by God? Relish these beautiful moments.

Growing in obedience leads to a truly blessed life. A blessed life is a journey marked by obedience to the commands of God.  We are assured of the gift of God’s blessing when we follow God’s commands because his commandments are the pathways to blessedness.  Disobedience has led humanity to the slavery of sin and the insecurity of death; only the love of God can take away the curse of sin. Abraham was blessed and his descendants through him because he trusted and obeyed God’s command for him to set off to a land which God would show him. As for Jesus himself, He won for all of humanity and creation the ultimate blessing of salvation and life because he has undone Adam’s disobedience by his own obedience to the Father even to the cross and unto death. Hence, listening to and obeying God’s will is our path to a blessed life.

No wonder, then, during the beautiful experience of the transfiguration of Jesus before Peter, James, and John, the voice of the Father is heard saying: “This is my beloved Son, on whom my favor rests; listen to him.” Loud and clear. “Listen to my beloved Son!”  Jesus, the beloved Son, is our way to a truly blessed life; hence, the Father reminds us to listen to him.

Our generation needs this reminder. We have turned into an arrogant people who listen only to our own whims and caprices. We don’t want to obey. We assert what we want.  We ignore the Lord and his voice by our decisions and lifestyle that are contrary to his precepts.  We need to realize that this arrogance is leading us to destruction.  Time and again, we hear real stories of people in pain. Many times their stories end with a painful question directed towards God: “Where are you? Why do you make me suffer? Don’t you truly love me and care for me?”  

We tend to blame others and God for the consequences of our foolishness and hardness of heart. Our gospel today reminds us that God always desire what is good and beautiful for us. He wants us to have a blessed life. But we need to rediscover our trust in God’s commandments which lead us to a blessed life. We need to listen to Jesus, the beloved Son.

On this Feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord, let us grow in confidence amid challenges in life and in obedience to God’s will by listening to Jesus, the beloved Son. He is our path to a truly blessed life.

Do I listen to the voice of the Beloved Son and allow Him to be my guide in life? Were there times when I ignored Him and went my own way? Have I ever blamed the Lord for the misfortunes I brought to myself?

Jesus' Compassion (18th Sunday Ordinary A)

How do we muster the strength to continue being concerned with the needs and suffering of others when we ourselves are in pain and in sorrow?  Don’t we conveniently make our own suffering an excuse to be insensitive to others?  

I used to bring Holy Communion to an old lady way back my seminary formation days.  She had a son, her only child, who took care of her.  For about two years, I visited her at home every Sunday after mass.  She would gladly receive the Holy Communion.  She was very sweet to me.  One Christmas break, I missed to visit her for two Sundays as I was in vacation. During my absence, her only son died in an accident! So when I resumed my visit, I witnessed her grief and anger.  Her characteristic sweetness was gone. She would wail and raise hell as I entered her house and she would blame God—the merciless God—for the tragedy.  She refused to receive communion for several Sundays. She recovered later though.

When we are in pain we can be too self-absorbed to see the suffering of other people.  Oftentimes, we call attention to ourselves and demand sympathy. Worse, sometimes, we are rendered paralyzed unable to move on with life. Some would just give up on life and others would persist in cynicism.

Drawing strength from our suffering. Jesus is in pain in today’s Gospel (Mt. 14: 13-21). When He heard of John’s death, “He withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself” (v. 13). Well, the passage is a plain and simple report of a seemingly negligible gesture of Jesus.  It does not describe, for instance, how terrible Jesus feels.

While it does not explicitly say that Jesus is in grief due to a loss of a significant person in his life, the account, perhaps, leaves it to the reader who knows the relationship of John the Baptist to Jesus the Messiah to figure out how Jesus feels.  His forerunner is dead. Beheaded! The person who paved the way for his mission is murdered brutally.  Jesus must be in terrible sorrow.  This may indeed explain his withdrawal to a deserted place.

In this Gospel episode, we learn from Jesus that we need to wrestle with our grief and to feel our pain and sorrow.  However, we need not stay there.  We should not allow our suffering to suck the life out of us.  We’ve got to move on.  Instead of sulking and blaming others and God for our suffering, we better come to grips with the situation and turn our suffering into our very strength to understand the pain of others.

 

Compassion is "suffering with" others. I believe here lies the secret of the compassion of Jesus—He knows by experience how it is to suffer... to be in pain... to lose someone dear...  to feel the terrible anguish over some events that test our faith... to grapple with questions that shake our convictions.  I would like to believe that Jesus, while in solitude, makes it a point to be in touch with his own pains, anguish, and disturbing questions.  So that, when he disembarks from his isolation, he emerges as a person with a sensitive heart, one that easily sees the real suffering of the vast crowd, a heart that is easily moved with pity (v. 14). “Compassion” after all literally means “to suffer with.”

What are the significant forms of our own pain and suffering in life? What sort of persons have we become because of them? Have we turned into bitter persons or better ones?  Have we become cynical, grouchy, and unproductive persons? Or Hopeful, tender, and compassionate?

Compassion calls for self-giving. Moreover, the rest of the gospel episode reveals that Jesus’ compassion spurs him on beyond plain emotional and sentimental identification with the suffering of people.  He acts on what he sees and feels.  He cures the sick and feeds the hungry, accordingly about five thousand men not counting the women and children (v. 14-20).  

The event of the feeding of such a great number of hungry people tempts us to look at it easily through a miracle-worker understanding of Jesus.  Jesus manages to feed all of them because of his capacity for miracles.  Problem solved.  However, another way of approaching the episode is to consider it as a sacramental catechesis (favored by more commentators).  The feeding event points to the Eucharistic celebration as evidenced by the Eucharistic language--blessing... breaking... giving... (v. 19).  Jesus offers himself in the symbol of the bread.  He is the bread blessed, broken, and given for the sake of his people.

Jesus’ compassion is truly an act of “suffering with” his people.  It is not some magical solutions that he offers to ease the people’s suffering.  He does not believe in shortcuts.  Shortcuts are the devil’s strategy that calls attention to oneself by a display of power.  What Jesus offers is himself.  His compassion urges him towards total self-giving.  If the people are suffering, Jesus is right there with them suffering too as he empowers and gives hope by his sacrificial bestowal of self.

When we are in pain, we may do well to ask for the grace to draw from it the very strength we need to continue to be concerned about the suffering of people around us. And may we share in the compassion of Jesus, thus, helping us to muster the courage to be truly involved in giving hope to one another.