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.

Pray Always (29th Sunday Ordinary C)

During the “Zamboanga Siege” which lasted for more than three weeks, it was very easy to lose heart when day after day what woke you up in the early morning were the exchanges of gunshots and the hovering of helicopters. Already in the second week, people were impatient asking the same question: “When will this end?” For the situation was making the suffering of people more and more unbearable each day. A priest from Bohol, who is a good friend of mine, sent me an assurance that he was always praying for me and for the City of Zamboanga.

Few weeks after the siege, we were all shocked by the extent of the damage wrought by the 7.2 intensity earthquake that rocked the exotic island of Bohol. Most of the centuries-old churches which had been Bohol’s contribution to our national cultural heritage were destroyed. When I got the shocking news, I found myself sending a message of assurance to that priest friend of mine. I assured him that I was praying constantly for him and the people of Bohol.

We are not in control of many things in life. “Ang buhay ay weather weather lang,” according to Kuya Kim. Hence, we need to pray always and not to lose heart as Jesus teaches his disciples in today’s gospel reading (Lk 18:1-8).

(grabbed from http://www.village-missions.org)

Jesus’ parable of the persistent widow illustrates very clearly that just as the unkind judge finally grants, out of his selfish motives, the widow’s persistent request for justice, so God, who is infinitely better than that wicked judge, listens to the plea of those who persevere in prayer. In short, God certainly listens to our cries; but our pleas must be constant and unceasing. We must persevere in prayer.

Why? Is God playing hard to get? Does He take pleasure in watching us struggle in begging for what we need? No. God is not the unjust judge in the parable. God is a good God. His infinite goodness wills only that which brings out the best in us and nothing less. Hence, God challenges us to persist in prayer because He wants to bring out in us the following: Humility, purity, and intimacy. A word for each:

Humility. Modernity has expected us to be autonomous and responsible for our lives and destiny. So, we tend to act independently trying to gain total control of our lives. We keep God at bay. We become very busy and praying becomes a waste of time. But life has a way of exposing our helplessness: Zamboanga Siege? Bohol Earthquake? Unending supertyphoons? Flashfloods?

It is only in accepting our existential helplessness that we assume a posture of total dependence in God. The widow in the parable is our representative. Like her, we are many times powerless and dependent on the kindness of others and God. Like her, pleading unceasingly is sometimes our only recourse. In Filipino, we say “pagmamakaawa.” Everyone knows it takes a lot of humility to beg for mercy. The good God does not like conceited people. He invites us to be humble as we pray with constancy.

Purity.  Many times what we desire for needs purification. Even if it seems that what we are pleading for is good, God still sees through our selfish motives. Oftentimes, we ask for what we want and not for what we truly need. We want to have more wealth but this may lead us to greed and materialistic attitude. What we need sometimes to become a compassionate and loving person is the experience of solidarity with the poor.

God requires our persistence in prayer because we need to purify our desires. And the process requires some time. As we persevere in prayer, the grace of God helps us, in time, to see our own self-centeredness and to distinguish our whims and caprices from our real needs. Hence, we need to persevere in prayer not because God is not listening closely to our cries but because He is helping us to grow in the purity of our desires.

Intimacy.  When we persevere in prayer, we gradually understand that prayer is not just a one-shot deal. We begin to see meaningfully what spiritual writers tell us: that prayer is relationship. God requires persistence and constancy in our prayer because, above all else, He is inviting us to grow in intimacy with Him. To be in constant prayer means to spend more and more of one’s time with God. As we grow in the purity of our desires, we begin to see with joy that what our hearts truly long for is not just any gift that God gives. Our heart’s greatest desire is God.

With much gratitude, we discover as we persist in prayer how good and generous God is. God requires our perseverance not because He enjoys keeping us on our knees but because He wants to give us much more than we are asking for; He wants to give Himself.

Praying is not a waste of time. The more time we spend in prayer, the more that God brings out the best in us. Praying persistently melts our conceit and brings out humility; praying with patience and perseverance purifies our selfish desires and leads us to our real needs; praying with constancy trains our hearts to long for God and enjoy intimacy with Him. So, as Jesus wisely advises us, “Pray always without losing heart.”

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.”

Stewardship (25th Sunday Ordinary C)

In 2013, On National Heroes’ Day, Archbishop Luis Antonio Cardinal Tagle joined a protest march that called for the abolition of the Pork Barrel fund as it had been the source of scandalous corruption in the government. He exhorted all Filipinos to act collectively with heroism and with honor anywhere they are.  Few days earlier in a press conference, the Cardinal had addressed his challenge to those involved in the “intricate web” of corruption to visit the poor and slum areas in order to get a real feel of the suffering of the poor. The Cardinal said: “On my own, I just think those that are doing such things are capable because the poor is absent in their lives. Maybe they cannot see them or they don’t want to see them. But once they see them and even feel their suffering, maybe, they will at least be disheartened and moved by it.”

Indeed, the corruption of the country’s resources perpetuates the suffering of the poor.  The multibillion pork barrel scam, for instance, has been a great injustice to the Filipino people who, for long, have been struggling with poverty while those who are entrusted with power continue to enrich themselves at the poor’s expense.

Today’s readings lend themselves to a reflection on material stewardship. The readings allow us to focus on three aspects of stewardship: It is at the service of the poor, at the service of one’s legitimate needs, and at the service of God.

At the service of the poor.  Cardinal Tagle’s challenge to the politicians to be sensitive to the suffering of the poor echoes the message of the Prophet Amos in the first reading (Am 8:4-7) to those “who trample upon the needy and destroy the poor of the land.” Amos decries the unjust practices of the rich, particularly the merchants who exploit the poor people in buying and selling—the scales were adjusted to the advantage of the agent, while the poor paid more or received less.  Amos warns them of the Lord’s justice. They will be held accountable for everything they have done against the poor.

A responsible stewardship is sensitive to the needs of the poor. Those who have been entrusted with power and with the resources ought to see that all these must be at the service of the suffering poor.  Hence, stewardship implies the commitment to put up socio-economic and political systems, policies, and practices which assure the material security of the needy and the empowerment of the poor.

In our present clamor for a clean government, we pray that the justice of God prevails, that the exploitative and corrupt systems be abolished, and that we all take seriously the invitation to address the cry of the suffering poor.   

At the service of one’s legitimate needs. Material goods are entrusted to us as our means of meeting our basic needs and those of our dependents.  Christian stewardship does not scorn material things but calls for detachment from them lest they might take the place of God in our lives.  Material things are means and not end in themselves.  They have to be utilized with prudence in order to serve our end. 

The parable of the fired steward in the gospel reading (Lk 16: 1-13) illustrates that in the moment of crisis, the steward prudently used the material things at his disposal to secure his future.  He instructed his master’s debtors to write a discounted amount on their promissory notes.  These reduced the charges owed by eliminating the “service charge” which is normally due to him as an agent. By deciding to let go of his share, he gained friends from whom he could ask help in the future.

Stewardship calls for prudence and a degree of freedom from material goods in order to serve rightfully our basic needs without falling into the trap of greed and inordinate love for created things.

At the service of God.  The gospel reading ends with this reminder: “You cannot serve God and mammon” (v. 13). The inordinate love for created things compels us to sacrifice our health, family, friendship, moral principles, and faith convictions in favor of material gains. This is serving mammon and not God. When we close our eyes to the suffering of the poor and enrich ourselves at the expense of the poor, we are serving mammon and not God.  

Christian stewardship is serving God, not mammon. A faithful steward knows that God is the master; God is the source of bounty; God is the ultimate owner of everything. It is God he serves not money; His will he follows.

If only we can manage our material goods and other human affairs according to His will as the Prophet Amos reminds us, we would see justice, peace, and true development flourish in our land. 

Hence, today we ask the Master to forgive us of our dishonesty and mismanagement as stewards.  We ask for forgiveness for causing the suffering of the poor, for our greed and selfishness, for worshipping and serving mammon. And we ask the grace of prudence and freedom to dispose of our material goods at the service of the poor, of our own legitimate needs, and of God.

The Way of the Cross (Exaltation of the Holy Cross)

I was blessed to have had the opportunity to do a pilgrimage to the Holy Land last year with some friends.  The last day of the pilgrimage brought us to the site where our Lord was crucified and buried. The whole site is enclosed by a magnificent Church known now as the Church of the Sepulcher. I had a good exchange with our guide who informed me that the church was built through the wishes of St. Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine.  St. Helena had it built out of her joy because of the discovery of the Holy Cross on which Jesus was crucified.  For more information, I consulted Mr. Google and I was rewarded with the story surrounding the finding of the true cross in the early 300s.  This tradition is directly relevant to our celebration today, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross.

Tradition has it, as told by St. John Chrysostom, that St. Helena had a burning pious desire to find the real cross of Christ.  So she did a pilgrimage to Palestine. In Jerusalem, she commissioned an excavation on the hill of Calvary.  The site of Jesus’ sepulcher had been buried by the heathens out of an aversion to Christianity. They had heaped upon his sepulcher a great quantity of rubbish and stones.  Hence, the excavation had to go deep.  The holy sepulcher was eventually discovered.  Nearby were three crosses, the nails, and the title which had been affixed to Jesus’ cross.

Which was the cross of Jesus? St. Macarius, then the bishop of Jerusalem, had an inspired idea. To determine which was the true cross of Jesus, he had all three crosses touched an ailing and dying woman as he prayed for God to reveal which cross was the one that saved the world. The two crosses had no effect on the woman.  The third, however, brought complete healing!  The cross of our Lord was finally found!  The good news of the discovery spread like wild fire; and, once again, Christians gathered to venerate it as had been done before.  Out of joy, St. Helena then commissioned a church to be built over the site.  On September 13, 335, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher was consecrated. And the following day, September 14, was designated to be the celebration of the feast of the finding and exaltation of the Cross.  The basilica of the Holy Sepulcher had been destroyed and rebuilt over and over again.  Until today it is regarded by Christians as the holiest site on earth. 

Our liturgy has kept until today the celebration of the ancient feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.  This gives us the opportunity to continue to meditate on the meaning of the cross of Jesus in our Christian living. Allow me to reflect on two important points: The cross as the symbol of a love that saves and the cross as constant reminder of a way of life conformed to that of Jesus.

Symbol of a Love that Saves.  A thousand and hundreds of years before Jesus embraced his cross, already God had manifested his saving love for his people through Moses.  The first reading (Nm 21:4b-9) recounts the event of Israel’s liberation from Egypt. The difficult journey in the desert was to purify the Israelites’ self-centered inclinations. In this reading we see them grumbling and rebelling against God and Moses because of the inconveniences they had to undergo in the desert. They had easily forgotten God’s promises. The result of this sin was a plague of serpents that poisoned them to death. This consequence brought them back to their senses and humbled them so as to plead to be saved from the serpents.  Moses prayed; and as God instructed him, he made a bronze serpent and mounted it on a pole.  Anyone bitten recovered as he looked at the bronze serpent.

This event prefigured the ultimate salvation of all people from the poison of sin through Christ.  As today’s gospel (Jn 3:13-17) has it: “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life” (v. 14-15).  The Son of Man being lifted up points to the sacrificial death of Jesus on the cross. And this one sacrifice on the cross is a revelation of the depth, the width and the height of God’s love for his people. The cross of Jesus reminds us of God's act of love in Christ's sacrifice at Calvary, where he gave his life for us as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

When we look at the cross, we see the symbol of a love that saves. As we contemplate the cross, let us allow these words of the gospel to reverberate in our hearts: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believes in Him may not perish, but may have everlasting life” (v. 16).

Reminder of a Way of Life.  The cross is indeed a very significant symbol of Christianity. But it must not be reduced into ornaments that we place in our Churches, chapels, oratories, and rooms. The cross is not just a Christian accessory.  It is a Christian way of life.

In the second reading (Phil 2:6-10), St. Paul explains how Jesus emptied himself by becoming like us, human.  Jesus’ humility and obedience finds its ultimate expression in his acceptance of his death on the cross.  Somewhere else in the gospels, the Lord Jesus reminds his disciples thus:  "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me” (Mt 16:24).

Just as our Lord emptied himself, we have to take up our own crosses by our acts of self-denial. Just as our Lord humbled himself, we have to take up our own crosses by learning the virtue of humility. Just as our Lord manifested his obedience to the Father even to death on the cross, we are asked to take up our crosses by making the will of God our priority.

Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me (Mt 10:38). There is no Christianity without the cross then. St. Helena did everything in order to find the cross of Christ.  Our own search does not require digging into rubble and stones anymore. Maybe our invitation is really to have the courage to carry our crosses every day. It is to live out the meaning of the cross in our lives—humility, obedience to God, and self-sacrificing love. This is a way of life conformed to that of Jesus. This is the way of the cross.

Humility (22nd Sunday Ordinary C)

In 2007, a Jesuit missionary ended his forty three years of service in what was then the Prelature of Ipil. Fr. Angel Antonio was to be transferred to another assignment. He was willing to leave even if obviously his heart belonged to the mission area where he spent most of his life serving the poor and building their communities. At his farewell party, he was given the opportunity to share his farewell message. People expected him to speak about his great contributions to the local church, describing perhaps his heroic dedication to the mission and the long litany of his sacrifices. But no, this great missionary had only a few words to say. 

He stood up and said something like this, “I have only three words to say: First, thank you for the opportunity given me to serve; Second, I’m sorry for all my failings. You call me Fr. Angel, but I hadn’t always been an angel to you; and lastly, goodbye and pray for me as I face another chapter of my ministry.”

I was misty-eyed looking at the figure of the old man. What humility he had shown! Forty three long years of missionary service and he summed it all up with only a couple of minutes of farewell message devoid of fanfare and self-glorification.

Our readings today allow us to ponder on an essential Christian virtue, humility. In the light of the readings, two perspectives can help us deepen our reflection on the virtue: First, humility as the way to greatness; second, humility as a preferential love for the poor.

Humility as the way to greatness. This has always been an important paradox of our Christian life: In order to be great, one has to be the least of all. The first reading reminds us of this as it says, “Humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God” (Sir 3:18). Similarly, the gospel reading (Lk 14:1, 7-14) expresses the same paradoxical teaching of our Lord: “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted” (v. 11). Humility is the way to find favor with God; humility leads to exaltation by God.

The parable told by our Lord about the conduct of the invited guests and hosts at a banquet illustrates this truth as well. “Rather, when you are invited, go and take the lowest place so that when the host comes to you he may say, ‘My friend, move up to a higher position.’ Then you will enjoy the esteem of your companions at the table” (v. 10).

As a parable this is not to be taken literally as instructions governing table etiquette on where to sit when you are invited at parties. “Sitting at the lowest place” refers to a humble disposition that does not seek honor and glory for oneself. It is a disposition of dependence on God’s graciousness. We do not glorify ourselves; it is God, the Host of the heavenly banquet, who honors and exalts those who have been selfless and humble.

Humility is based on an honest acceptance of ourselves; hence, our business is to be truthful and faithful to who we are and what we can do given our gifts and limitations neither belittling nor boasting ourselves and our accomplishments. And it is God’s business to honor and exalt anyone He sees fit.

Do we possess this disposition of honest self-acceptance and dependence on God’s graciousness? If we do, we are on our way to greatness.

Humility as a preferential love for the poor. In today’s gospel, the Lord ends his parable with an instruction to the host who invited him: “…Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (v.13-14).

Almost always we invite to our table those whom we regard with high esteem because their presence buoys our self-esteem too. We invite those who are close to our hearts and those whom we consider our friends as their presence brings us joy. But for the Lord, humility consists in our preferential love for the poor. He invites us to offer our table to those who are least in society. He invites us to regard the poor with high esteem, to allow them to be close to our hearts and to be our friends.

We take pride in our association with the famous, influential, and wealthy people probably because it feels good to belong to their circle. Besides, our association with them is a social asset. Christian humility invites us to take pride in our friendship with the unknown, voiceless, and poor people and be at ease spending time with them seeing them not as asset nor liability but as persons and as children of God with the same dignity as everyone else.

Are we friends of the poor? 

Doors (21st Sunday Ordinary C)

from cheaptherapy.wordpress.com

In her book, Open the Door, a contemporary spiritual writer, Joyce Rupp creatively explores the many and varied ways through which the image of a door can help us in our inner journey to our true selves. At first, she invites her readers to open the door of their hearts in order to discover the still unraveled beauty and truth within them and even to encounter the Divine Presence within. Later, she counsels them too to have the courage, at some crucial points in life, to close the door as a decisive act of leaving behind everything that hinders their growth towards authenticity and fuller union with God.

There is, indeed, a time to open and a time to close the door. An open door invites and welcomes; a closed door protects that which is cherished inside and excludes the unwanted. This gives us insight into the spiritual rhythm of opening and closing the invisible door of our hearts.

The image of a door is used by Jesus in today’s gospel reading (Lk 13:22-30). To the question whether only few people will be saved Jesus responds quite obliquely with the images of a narrow door and a closed door:

“Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough. After the master of the house has arisen and locked the door, then will you stand outside knocking and saying, ‘Lord, open the door for us’” (v. 24-25).

Image of a Narrow Door. The image of the narrow door conveys both opportunity and difficulty. It invites yet it suggests some degree of struggle. Hence, approaching the narrow door is not by a leisurely walk as strolling in a park. It demands resolve and commitment to give one’s best to be able to enter.

The door to salvation is open for all. Everyone is invited to enter but is reminded of the necessity of striving hard as the passage to salvation is made difficult by our proclivity to sin. God’s grace and mercy is offered for all but our blind sinful inclinations may continue to reject this precious gift; our self-centeredness and foolish pride continues to glorify nothing but ourselves; our attachment to things, power, and fame may rob us of our freedom to choose God. Hence, Jesus warns us of this tendency to be complacent and evokes our free commitment to choose God as our fundamental orientation in our everyday life.

Image of a Closed Door. The closed door further conveys a day of definitive reckoning when those who persisted in their evil deeds will be excluded from the kingdom of God.  “And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves cast out” (v. 28). With the image of a locked door, Jesus delivers his caution with a twist of irony for those who tend to live with an easy assurance of salvation out of privilege. Jesus warns that those who have enjoyed proximity to the master, those who “ate and drank” in his company, will not be acknowledged by the master after all because of their evil deeds. They will be locked out. While people from afar, from the east and west, from the north and south, will have their place at the table in the eschatological banquet.

Salvation, then, is not a matter of privilege given to chosen elite who enjoyed familiarity and physical proximity to the Lord like the Jewish people. Salvation is an invitation given to all people, i.e. even to the gentiles. What it requires is a personal response. The theological question concerning the number of those who will be saved is not actually important after all. What matters most is the existential striving and personal commitment of every person to respond to the invitation through his moral decisions and actions in life.

The Door of our Hearts. It is not farfetched, hence, to say that the image of the narrow or closed door may appropriately represent the door of our hearts. More often than not, we are the ones making it difficult for God’s love and mercy to enter our hearts. Many times we shut Him out because we desire other things in life; we close the door of our hearts because we are afraid to let God take control of our lives. So exteriorly we try to live as near as possible to God but our hearts remain distant.  We carry the name of Christ as his baptized disciples and we spend our time in pious devotions calling him, “Lord, Lord…” but we never care to discern in our hearts his will, much less, to live it out in loving obedience.  

Joyce Rupp asks her readers to open the door of their hearts. Let us open our hearts to God. We will be surprised how well He fits in, for His love and mercy is our heart’s ultimate delight. Rupp also reminds of the necessity of closing the door.  Let us then muster our courage to close the door of our hearts to our self-centeredness and pride and to all our hurts caused by sin.

  

The Fire of Jesus (20th Sunday Ordinary C)

Fire is dangerous. We all learn this important lesson early on in life. In my case I learned it with fear and trembling as a helpless child having to witness the small town of Ipil being razed in fire. I saw this awesome power of fire not only once. Ipil was set on fire again on mysteriously the same date, May 11 of one of the ensuing years. And this was not it. On April 4, 1995, as a grown-up, I survived the “Ipil Massacre” during which the town was set ablaze once more by the Abu Sayaff terrorists and was reduced to ashes.

It’s no small wonder that I and many others would have a hard time dealing with Jesus of today’s gospel (Lk 12:49-53). Jesus announces his mission of setting the earth on fire: “I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!” (v. 49).  What?! Is this really Jesus speaking?

The Danger of Discipleship. Our difficulty most probably stems from a sanitized image of Jesus. We have gotten used to seeing Jesus as kind, meek, and merciful. We would imagine him probably as gentle and soft-spoken. And we have come to love Jesus the nice guy. What more, for many, they prefer to deal exclusively with the cute Santo Niño as he is absolutely adorable and fun to relate with. With this favorite but deficient Christological view, we certainly cringe at the thought that Jesus and what He stands for is actually dangerous. And unless we face the truth that Jesus’ mission is dangerous, we will never see the meaning of today’s gospel and we will never know Jesus deeper and hence we will never become his true disciples.  

While gentleness and compassion especially towards the lowly and the suffering are truly Jesus’ qualities, He was nonetheless firm and disturbing towards the self-righteous and the conceited. For the oppressors of the little ones, Jesus was indeed dangerous. His eventual lot on the cross speaks volume about how the world wished and plotted to put off the dangerous fire of Jesus. Jesus’ friends and close followers had a real sense of the danger of standing for Christ and his message.  But they embraced him with total dedication. John the Baptist lost his head. Peter was crucified upside down. Most of the apostles and disciples were persecuted and died as martyrs. Hundred other followers ended up as Nero’s torches.

Today, we tend to turn a blind eye to this disconcerting aspect of Christ and his message. We want a cozy type of discipleship. We want security and comfort. We pray only for blessings. We don’t want a share of the cross. The first homily of Pope Francis was more to the point as he warned his audience: "When we walk without the Cross, when we build without the Cross, and when we profess Christ without the Cross, we are not disciples of the Lord. We are worldly; we are bishops, priests, cardinals, Popes, but not disciples of the Lord.” Pope Francis surely inspires us. He is on fire.

Transformative Christian Message. Fire is not only dangerous. It is also an awesome force of transformation. Nothing that fire touches remains ever the same. Whatever is set on fire is bound to change. Each time the town of Ipil was set on fire, the town was never the same again. The old structures were consumed and turned into ashes. But new and better structures arose later.

Jesus and his message are transformative. Jesus disturbs and calls for change. When He declares how He wants to see the earth ablaze and announces that He brings not peace but division, Jesus is saying: “Do not think that I came to leave you in peace, no, I came to disturb, to upset and to change things. The world will never be the same after I have thrown fire on it” (John Fuellenbach, Throw Fire).

The dangerous fire of Jesus is meant to consume the world’s old structures of sin dominated by evil, self-centeredness, pride, greed, injustices, etc. And how we all should wish with Jesus that these were already blazing so that transformation may come! How we all should wish that the new structures of grace were put in place, that love reigns with justice and peace for the people of God. How we all should feel the anguish of our Lord until the reign of God takes hold of the entire world.

Spirituality of Social Transformation. Are our hearts burning with the fire of Jesus? We can only answer yes when we courageously embrace the danger of being a follower and when we assume the same transformative vision of Jesus. Many a Christian have grown cold and bored because they just want to stay in the safety of their comfort zones concerned solely about the good of the self.  Again Pope Francis warns the Church of this same sickness and wishes her to risk:

“We need to come out of ourselves and head for the periphery… It is true that going out onto the street implies the risk of accidents happening… But if the Church stays wrapped up in itself, it will age… and if I had to choose between a wounded Church that goes out onto the streets and a sick withdrawn Church, I would definitely choose the first one.”

To have the fire of Jesus in our hearts is to be disturbed, shaken, and awakened from the slumber of our passivity or even apathy in the midst of the world’s sinfulness and neglect of the weak. Kindling the fire of Jesus in our hearts is an invitation to a spirituality of social transformation—a spirituality that brings the rich resources of our Christian faith outside the confines of the beautiful adoration chapels onto the streets, the slum, the malls, the halls of power, and everywhere. This spirituality is dangerous and risky. But we have to embrace it, as did the close friends of Jesus, if we were to be faithful to the Lord who wishes to set the earth on fire and to see it blazing.

Vigilance (19th Sunday Ordinary C)

What would you be doing if today were to be your last day?

Perhaps you would drop all your non-essential preoccupations and spend your precious time, instead, with your loved ones to tell them you love them. Or visit your friends and thank them for the joy and support they have given you throughout life. Ask forgiveness from those whom you have caused pain and forgive those who have hurt you. Donate your possessions to those who are in need. Entrust everything to God as you spend silent moments in prayer. Etc.

When we are given a deadline in life, we gain a new perspective. We see things—the essential things—more clearly. And we gain a sense of urgency to fulfill these essential things lest we end up with irremediable regrets. But the problem is we don't often have a sense of deadline in life. We peacefully live with the illusion that we always have more time to do what is important, so that many of us have developed a ma ñana habit, eternally postponing for tomorrow what we ought to do today. Still some of us resort to sloth, or the " Juan Lazy " way of life, having less and less enthusiasm and energy for life's purpose and mission. Still others wait for the last minute to act, so they are always panicky and stressed rushing things in order to beat the deadline as it comes.

Vigilance. The gospel today (Lk 12:32-48) gives us that sense of deadline by reminding us of the coming of the Son of Man. Biblical scholarship suggests two meanings of this coming: One is the Parousia which is the second coming of Christ as our Judge to put a conclusion to the narrative of history and the other is the coming of our Lord in our personal death to conclude our earthly pilgrimage. In the parable of the servants awaiting their master's return from a wedding (v. 35-38), the servants are exhorted to be vigilant and prepared for the hour of the master's coming. The subsequent parable of the unexpected coming of a thief (v. 39-40) makes the point clear that the moment of the coming of the Son of Man is unknown: "You must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come" (v. 40).

Hence, we know there is a deadline but we don’t know when exactly is that moment when we will have to face our ultimate Judge either as a people or as an individual. The message then is clear: We must be prepared at all times. This is what vigilance means. Our universal call to holiness, to goodness, to human responsibility, to integrity, to love must be heeded not at the eleventh hour of our lives. In the first place, we often do not know when the eleventh hour is. Our call has to be heeded every day. We ought to fulfill what kind of persons we are called to become each and every day of our lives.  We cannot afford to procrastinate and decide to be good, generous, honest, holy and loving when we are already old and about to die. Our invitation is to develop habitual dispositions of goodness, integrity, holiness and love. This is how we make ourselves prepared always for the coming of the Lord.

Our initial question about what we would do on our last day is after all not a good question to start with. For it is not what we do on our last days that we are asked to be concerned about. That we should hurriedly catch up on doing important matters on the eleventh hour just betrays our lack of enthusiasm, sincerity, and commitment to our responsibilities as we moved on with life. Rather, it is what we have become at the end of our lives that counts most as we face our Judge. The process of becoming is not done on a single day or on the last day. The process requires every day. We become the kind of persons the Lord calls us to be as we commit to the values of the Kingdom every single day of our lives. This is vigilance.

What kind of person you shall have become when the Lord comes? This may guide and inspire us better to be faithful to our commitments every day.

Faithfulness and Prudence of a Steward. The last of the parables in today’s gospel (v. 42-48) suggests that upon his arrival the Master looks for his faithful and prudent steward. If He finds him being so, the Master will put him in charge of all his property. But if that servant abuses his Master’s trust, the Master will come unexpectedly and will mete out severe punishment and will assign this worthless servant “a place with the unfaithful.”

We are asked to become a faithful and prudent steward. What have we been entrusted with by the Lord? It is important that we understand that whatever is given us is meant for the service of God’s people. The authority, wealth, talents, skills, and other charisms we may have been given ought not to be abused through irresponsibility and self-centeredness. All of these are entrusted to us that we may serve well. We have to develop them and use these gifts every day not only for our own good but for the good of others and for the greater glory of the Master.  

When the Master arrives unexpectedly, be it on Judgment Day or on our own personal death, may we be found ready and worthy to be entrusted with all God's heavenly treasures, ready and worthy to recline at the table of God's heavenly banquet.

Of Vanities and Foolishness (18th Sunday Ordinary C)

Somebody sent me this piece of thought via facebook : The three stages of life—Teens. You have all the time and energy but no money; Workers. You have money and energy but no time; Oldies. You have money and time but no energy.

If the meaning of life were to be sought in purely materialistic terms, there is the inevitability of ending up with a pessimistic conclusion: Life is absurd and tragic. When the Dalai Lama was asked what surprised him most about humanity, he said: “Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

The pessimism of Qoheleth in the first reading (Eccl 1:2; 2:21-23) expresses too the meaninglessness of man’s toil and anxiety of heart, as he would just leave his property to another who has not worked for it. For Qoheleth, “all things are vanity!” This pessimism propels us to search further for the enduring meaning of life. If material things and preoccupation with them leave our life in vain, what, then, makes a meaningful commitment and occupation in life?

The gospel reading (Lk 12:13-21) further presents what comprises our human folly. Christians ought to be wary of these three related forms of foolishness: Greed, Hedonism, and Materialism.

Greed.  Jesus, in the gospel, teaches the crowd: “Take care to guard against all greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist of possessions” (v. 15). Greed is a selfish insatiable desire for more material things, more wealth, more possessions. At heart, it is a disordered love for created things. It is not farfetched, then, for St. Paul to regard greed as a form of idolatry (Col 3:5). Greed is foolishness because it loves deliriously the wrong object. This disordered love leads to frustration and not satisfaction: “Greed is a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction“ (Erich Fromm).

Hedonism. The parable of the rich fool alludes too to the foolishness of the hedonist philosophy in life. The character in the parable hoards his bountiful harvest in his new and larger barns and plans for a life of comfort and pleasure. The rich fool says to himself: “Now as for you, you have so many good things stored up for many years, rest, eat, drink, be merry!” There are people who subscribe to a philosophy that glorifies pleasure as the principle of a meaningful life.  Yet experience tells us that pleasure are passing and does not makes us truly happy. Making it the ultimate goal in life leads to suffering because it only ushers us to an endless cycle of frustrating attempts to satisfy our desires. The cycle can lead to destructive patterns of addiction and all of life may be wasted.

Materialism.  The parable concludes with the reminder of the foolishness of materialism: “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?” (v. 20).  Our contemporary lifestyle is materialistic. We are made to believe, by way of advertisements, that a good life is one that has acquired the latest gadgets, cars, and stuffs. Hence, we get up every day pursuing “earthly treasures,” accumulating more and more of material things.  We ignore the deepest longing and spiritual yearning of our hearts, hence we are never happy. And we will never be, as long as we persist in our foolish quest: “Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself but is not rich in what matters to God” (v. 21).

In both the first reading and the gospel, the death of the man whose life is preoccupied with material pursuit exposes the vanity and foolishness of such preoccupation. Death, indeed, reveals to us what is essential. It gives us a clear perspective. I would like to suggest two Christian perspectives discernible in our readings today as our invitation: Christian Stewardship and the perspective of freedom.

Stewardship.  Material possessions and wealth are not evil in themselves. Rather, they are gifts entrusted to us by the abundance of nature and God’s providence. They have instrumental value. They are a means to our end, not our goal itself. They help us fulfill our mission. When material things are entrusted to us, we are invited to be a responsible steward. In the spirit of gratitude and generosity then, we are to share what we have been given to those who are in need.  Sharing becomes our way of loving. And we don’t love things; we love God and neighbor.

Freedom.  In this materialistic era, Christians ought to heed the gospel’s invitation to grow in freedom—freedom from and freedom for.  We need to be freed from our greed which enslaves us to our material desires. When our possessions possess us, we become slaves and no longer responsible stewards. We need to grow in our freedom from our inordinate attachments to created things. This allows us to be free for the Creator himself.  Real freedom is freedom for God, that capacity to choose God as our fundamental option and to love God above all else with ease. We are invited to grow in this ability to commit to “what matters to God,” to expend our energies in toiling for what endures—the real treasures in heaven.

When life is unreflected, it is not worth living. But when it is lived according to the gospel values, life finds its enduring meaning. It ceases from becoming a pitiful affair of vanities and foolishness.

 

Teach Us to Pray (17th Sunday Ordinary C)

Many people today do not pray. The commonest reason perhaps is this: “I’m too busy.” There are just too many concerns and demands from work and too little time. Another reason is from the restless young people: “Prayer is boring. We want adventure.” Perhaps those who used to pray but have experienced some unanswered prayer would say: “I’m tired of praying. Prayer doesn’t work.” Those who believe in the Omniscience of God assume that God knows their needs. So there’s no need to pray; God provides anyway. And those who have an “I-did-it-my-way” complex assert their independence and self-sufficiency. For them, to bend one’s knees in prayer is a sign of weakness. Still others do not pray simply because they don’t know how.

Whatever our reasons for not praying are, we need to realize, as the gospel reading today (Lk 11:1-13) reminds us, that Jesus Himself, the Son of God, the Anointed One, the Savior of the world, always found time to be alone in prayer. Jesus believed in the power of prayer and saw its utmost importance as an integral part of his life and mission. Hence, he taught his disciples how to pray.

In Jesus’ teachings on prayer in the gospel reading today and in Abraham’s persistent haggling with God in the first reading, we can discern some forms of prayer and some essential inner dispositions that we ought to consider for the growth of our prayer life.

Praise and Worship. The “Lord’s Prayer” may be seen as having two parts. The first part consists of praising and worshiping God as our Father whose name we glorify and whose reign we desire in our lives. As our Father, He is acknowledged as the source of what we have and are. We accept his sovereignty in heaven and on earth. Jesus himself had always submitted to the will of the Father. His life was a constant praise and worship of the Father.

Don’t we have our own reasons for praising and worshipping God, our Father? When we honestly take account of our blessings in life, it would be but a natural overflow of joy, gratitude and awe that we praise and worship the Lord. I’ve seen and joined some faithful who dance and sing with gusto their praises to the Almighty and All-loving God. It has always been an exhilarating experience, far from being boring.

Petition. The second half of the prayer of Jesus is focused on our needs. We call them petitions. We ask for our present needs, our daily bread. We ask for forgiveness of our past--our debts, trespasses, and forms of sinfulness as we commit to be forgiving to others too. And we ask to ensure our future with God by our deliverance from the evil one. In this prayer, we acknowledge that our present, past, and future depend on the graciousness and mercy of God.

Intercession. When our petitions go beyond our own needs and express the needs of others, we are offering intercessory prayers. We pray on behalf of others. We find ourselves doing this because we care for others. We are a community. We are one family. We have a common Father in heaven. The first reading (Gen 18:20-32), for instance, recounts how Abraham interceded for the people of Sodom. He persistently haggled with God, trying to save the sinful people from the impending destruction. The story shows that God actively listens to Abraham’s intercession.

A good model of petition and intercession is Pope Francis’ simple method of prayer using one's fingers:

"The thumb is the closest finger to you. So start praying for those who are closest to you. They are the persons easiest to remember. To pray for our dear ones is a “sweet obligation.”

“The next finger is the index. Pray for those who teach you, instruct you and heal you. They need the support and wisdom to show direction to others. Always keep them in your prayers.”

“The following finger is the tallest. It reminds us of our leaders, the governors and those who have authority. They need God’s guidance.”

“The fourth finger is the ring finger. Even that it may surprise you, it is our weakest finger. It should remind us to pray for the weakest, the sick or those plagued by problems. They need your prayers.”

“And finally we have our smallest finger, the smallest of all. Your pinkie should remind you to pray for yourself. When you are done praying for the other four groups, you will be able to see your own needs but in the proper perspective, and also you will be able to pray for your own needs in a better way."

Persistent Disposition. The parable of the importunate friend in today’s gospel highlights an important disposition in prayer: Persistence. Not that God requires to be badgered before He listens to our cries, but that our perseverance reveals the true desire of our hearts. We desire many things and many of which are not essential. Only that which is truly essential keeps us motivated and persevering. As we persevere in prayer, we realize that it is God himself, not just his blessings, that our heart yearns. This yearning cannot be turned down by a God who has yearned for us first and foremost.

Trust in God. Another essential disposition in prayer is trust in the goodness and wisdom of God. God is our Father; He is all-good and all-wise. If a sinful earthly father can still be trusted to provide good things to his children, how much more is the heavenly Father worthy of our total trust? When we pray then, we are entrusting our heart’s desire to the care of our loving and wise Father. I think this disposition of trust is what made Mother Teresa assert: “Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God…”

If still we don’t find ourselves drawn to prayer, let us make just one humble petition: Lord, teach us to pray.

The Better Part (16th Sunday Ordinary C)

Today’s Gospel (Luke 10:38–42) brings us into the warm and familiar home of two sisters: Martha and Mary. Jesus, their beloved friend, comes to visit, and like any of us welcoming a guest—especially someone as special as the Lord!—there’s excitement, preparation, and, yes, a bit of stress. We can picture Martha bustling about: checking the bread, stirring the pot, setting the table. And Mary? She’s doing something unexpected… she's just sitting there—at Jesus’ feet—listening.

And suddenly, we find ourselves drawn into this quiet tension between action and stillness, between doing and being. Between Martha and Mary.

Listening to Jesus is our first call. The Gospel tells us that Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying” (v. 39). This wasn't laziness or avoidance. In fact, in the culture of the time, sitting at the feet of a rabbi meant something very specific—it meant being a disciple.

Mary wasn’t simply relaxing; she was learning, absorbing, contemplating. She was fully present to Jesus. And what’s so beautiful is that Jesus welcomes this. He defends her choice. That was radical in His time—and it still is.

So here’s the question for us: Are we listening to Jesus? Or are we so busy—even with good things—that we miss His voice?

In our world of constant noise, notifications, and to-do lists, this Gospel is a gentle call back to what matters most. Maybe the most loving thing we can do today is turn off our phones, open the Scriptures, sit in silence, and just be with Him.

Even good work can distract. Now, let’s be clear: Martha wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was serving! She was being responsible! But notice what Jesus says:

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things” (v. 41).

He doesn’t scold her for working—He lovingly points out that her worry is distracting her from what matters most. The original Greek word for “distracted” literally means “to be pulled apart.” Can anyone relate?

Sometimes we are so busy doing things for Jesus, we forget to spend time with Him. This is especially true for those in ministry, those caring for family, those working multiple jobs to make ends meet. Like Martha, we may be faithful—but also stressed out.

Jesus isn’t telling us to stop working—He’s inviting us to work from a place of peace, not panic. From communion, not compulsion.

So, choose the better part. Jesus concludes, “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (v. 42).

What Mary chose wasn’t the only good thing, but it was the better thing. And what is that better part? It’s being with Jesus. It’s the eternal treasure of knowing and loving God. All our work will one day pass—but the relationship we build with Christ will last forever.

This “better part” is not about doing less—it’s about living from the center. From the heart of Christ.

We are all both Martha and Mary. And the challenge is to find the balance: to serve like Martha, yes—but to listen like Mary. To be active in the world, but rooted in prayer. To move through life not frantic and fragmented, but focused on the One Thing Necessary.

Go and Do Likewise (15th Sunday Ordinary C)

The Harvard sociologist Robert Putnam published his article, “American Grace,” revealing his discovery that the loss of community in America is counterbalanced by a social capital that is kept alive in one place more than any other—in the house of worship. His study reveals that church-goers are more likely to engage in charitable works than their secular counterpart. Those who go to church are more likely willing to do voluntary work, give donation to homeless people, donate blood, help a neighbor in need, help someone find a job, etc.

(Picture from twitter # Sendong)

This is an affirmation of the message of today’s gospel (Lk 10: 25-37) which places love at the heart of Christian ethics. The Parable of the Good Samaritan is a timeless story of everyone’s primary responsibility in love to take care of those who are in need, the neighbor.  Putnam’s study somehow reveals how the message of the parable continues to be incarnated in today’s Christian commitment to loving service in our communities.

Let us reflect more deeply on this primary responsibility to love as taught by today’s gospel reading.  Two things for our reflection: First, the primacy of love over any other law; second, the active nature of love.

Primacy of Love. The gospel reading presents a dialogue between Jesus and the scholar of the law. The conversation leads to an agreement that, according to the law, what brings eternal life is following the greatest commandments, that is, love of God and love of neighbor.  This is illustrated, then, by the parable of the Good Samaritan which effectively employs irony to bring the message across quite powerfully.

The priest and the Levite, who enjoy respectable religious status and are expected to be more loving than others, are portrayed to have fallen short of the duty to love. They have placed more importance on the laws governing ritual purity so that they avoided helping and having to touch the blood of a dying man.  They seemed to have been more concerned about their ritual functions in the temple than their duty to show mercy and love to someone in dire need.

On the other hand, the Samaritan, who is a social outcast due to religious, cultural and political reasons, is described as being readily concerned and compassionate to the robber’s victim.  The Samaritan’s act of love becomes a criticism of the misplaced priority of the ritualistic priest and Levite. Love is the greatest of all commandments.

Our religious piety is not bad as it is an integral part of our faith expression.  But it should not become our comfort zone where we feel secure as we hide from and avoid the demands of loving. Instead, an authentic piety must lead us to greater sensitivity to the neighbor’s needs and even bring joy to our commitment to the works of charity.

Love in Action.  It is one thing to know and understand what love is and its significance in our faith; it’s quite another to actually do it. Love is not so much an idea as a commitment to act.  When the scholar of the law correctly presented the two greatest commandments of love as the way to eternal life, Jesus agreed: “You have answered correctly.”  He did not stop with this simple affirmation though.  Jesus emphasized the necessity of acting according to the greatest commandments as he continued to say: “Do this and you will live” (v. 28).

The scholar of the law wished to justify himself and continued to ask Jesus: “And who is my neighbor?” It is to this question that Jesus narrated the parable of the Good Samaritan where both the priest and the Levite refused to extend their helping hand to the dying man while the Samaritan compassionately assisted him. It is important to note that Jesus, then, changed the question.  It is no longer about “who is my neighbor.” Jesus asked the scholar of his opinion that among the three “who acted as a neighbor.”

The scholar got the correct answer again of course: “The one who treated him with mercy.” And Jesus finally gave him this instruction: “Go and do likewise.” The scholar of the law was seeking understanding and knowledge, or was just testing Jesus’ wisdom; but Jesus was directing him beyond knowledge of the law. Jesus was challenging him to act according to the greatest of all laws—the law of love.

The same challenge is thrown to all of us his disciples: Go and do likewise. We easily know who our neighbor is. Any one in need is our neighbor.  But the real question is, “am I willing to act as a neighbor?”

Robert Putnam’s discovery about the availability of church-goers for charity works is an encouraging observation.  Let us make that same observation true to all the communities we belong to. Let us make the message of the parable of the Good Samaritan alive in our communities. Let us listen to Jesus instructing us, “Go and do likewise.”