Guarding Jesus in the Home (Holy Family A)

In today’s Gospel, a short phrase appears again and again. The angel says to Joseph: “Take the child and his mother” (Mt 2:13, 20, 21).

This is Joseph’s mission. This is the mission of the Holy Family: to guard the Child.

Jesus enters the world as a fragile baby, and Herod wants to destroy Him. God could have sent angels, armies, fire and power—but no. He entrusts His Son to a family. To the care of a father and mother. Today, we hear those same words directed to us: “Take the child and his mother.”

Take Jesus into your home. Guard His presence in your children, in your marriage, and in the vulnerable families around you.

The family is the guardian of the Child Jesus today. Let us reflect on this in three points:

Families Under Threat: Guarding Christ in the Home

The angel warns Joseph: “Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him” (Mt 2:13). Herod is afraid of losing power, and his fear becomes violence. Today, there are still “Herods”—not a king with soldiers, but forces that enter our homes and threaten faith: A culture of distraction that leaves no time for God; media and content that destroy innocence and distort truth; consumerism that teaches: “You are what you have,” instead of “You are loved by God;” conflict and unforgiveness that choke love.

The Holy Family teaches us that holiness does not mean having a perfect life. They were poor, displaced, afraid, and in danger—yet they stayed faithful. They protected the Child. So how do we guard Jesus in our homes?

• Guard the atmosphere. What enters the house—words, content, music, attitudes? Ask: Would Jesus feel at home here?

• Guard prayer and Sunday. If work, sports, and entertainment always come first, and God is always the one sacrificed, then the Child Jesus disappears quietly.

• Guard relationships. Simple habits—“please,” “thank you,” “I’m sorry”—protect love and keep Christ at the center.

Pope Francis reminds us in Amoris Laetitia: “The home must be the place where we learn the beauty of faith, to pray and to serve our neighbour” (AL 287). So first, guard Jesus in your home.

Joseph the Guardian: Parents as First Protectors of Faith

Joseph never speaks in Scripture, but he moves. He obeys. He acts. The Gospel describes him with verbs:.“He rose, took the child and his mother… departed” (Mt 2:14).

This shows the mission of parents today: not just to provide things, but to protect faith. Guarding Jesus in the home is not about having religious decorations only. It is about choices: Being present—not just physically, but with attention and love; setting boundaries on gadgets, content, and influences; modeling the faith—children learn more from what they see than what they hear.

Pope Francis calls Joseph “creatively courageous.” Parents today need that same creativity: to pray—even 1 minute—if that’s all you can handle; to make faith concrete—acts of kindness, generosity, honesty; to talk about blessings—“Where did we see God today?”

The family is the first Church, the first school of love, the first mission field.

Reaching Out: Caring for Displaced & Struggling Families

The Holy Family begins their story as refugees: “He departed for Egypt” (Mt 2:14). Jesus, Mary and Joseph experience what many Filipino families experience today: Displacement from typhoons, floods or earthquakes; separation due to poverty or work abroad; migration for safety or survival; homelessness and unemployment in our own barangays.

If Jesus were born today, He might be born in an evacuation center, in a small shanty, or in a home where parents are far away. To guard the Child Jesus today means not only guarding Him in our home, but also seeking Him in the homes of others—especially where life is most fragile.

So let us ask: Who are the “Egypt families” around us? Families running away from hunger, debt, or danger?

This year, can our families accompany a struggling neighbor? Or share goods with someone displaced by calamity? Or perhaps offer prayer and friendship, not just money?

Not all of us can solve poverty. Not all can rebuild homes. But every family can love.

When we protect the poor, we protect Jesus. When we sit with the wounded, we sit with Jesus.

Conclusion. Every family here has struggles. The Holy Family did too. But God was with them—and He is with us. So today, let us ask for the grace to hear the call: “Take the child and his mother.”

Take Jesus home. Put Him at the center. Guard His presence in your house and in this wounded world. 

Joseph’s Magnanimous Heart (4th Sunday Advent A)

Joseph is another important Advent figure as attested to by today’s gospel account of “The annunciation to Joseph.” Let us train our gaze onto him and be edified by his display of a magnanimous heart as he participates in the preparation of the coming of the Messiah.

Let me recall first a romantic film, Till I Met You. In this movie, Gabriel (Robin Padilla) and Luisa (Regine Velasquez) meet in the hacienda of Señor Manuel (Eddie Garcia). Gabriel is the trusted right-hand man of the haciendero, Señor Manuel and he has only deep respect for the generous old man; he loves him as his own father because Manuel has supported him since his childhood. Now, Gabriel slowly falls in love with Luisa as he knows her better even her wounded past. But Luisa is staying there in the hacienda in preparation for her wedding with Señor Manuel. Should Gabriel fight for his love and pursue the lovable Luisa? Or should he forget about his feelings out of his deep respect for the old man?

In Filipino, we have a word for giving up something precious to oneself for the interest of someone else whom one deeply cares about—pagpaparaya. Of course, Gabriel cannot betray the old man whom he respects deeply. Kailangan niyang magparaya. So, he painfully decides not to get in the way between Luisa and Señor Manuel.

In today’s gospel (Mt 1:18-24), we can view Joseph’s reaction to his knowledge about Mary’s virginal conception as an act of “pagpaparaya”—giving up the love of his life out of deep reverence for God. Verse 19 states, “Joseph, being a just man… resolved to send her away quietly.” Joseph could not take as his wife a woman whom God had chosen to be his own. Fr. Nil Guillemette, SJ explains: The “justice” of Joseph is a religious justice and prevents him from stepping in uninvited into God’s plan of salvation by assuming the paternity of the Messiah.”

Yet, in a dream, Joseph got invited into this huge plan of salvation. The angel Gabriel announced to him the mystery of incarnation: “Joseph, descendant of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. She has conceived by the Holy Spirit, and now she will bear a son.” Part of this mystery was his role in this great plan: “You shall call him ‘Jesus’ for he will save his people from their sins” (v. 20-21). To this, Joseph responded with willingness.

What stands out in this gospel reading is Joseph’s magnanimous heart. This is shown in two ways: In his selfless love and in his committed love.

Joseph’s Selfless Love. Joseph loved Mary. His love for her was never possessive. When he learned of Mary’s pregnancy and, perhaps, of Mary’s own explanation even before the dream, Joseph was willing to let her go. Not with a bitter heart but a magnanimous heart seeking only whatever is good for his beloved and maintaining deep reverence for God’s plan. Handang magparaya. Letting go of something or someone very precious to oneself for a better cause calls for a magnanimous heart. It’s an act of selfless love.

Kaya ko bang magparaya? Do I have what it takes to give up something dear to me for a greater cause without turning bitter? We are all called to love. Loving in its essence is selfless. Yet, many a times we suffer from fixation to our childish neediness. To survive as a child, we necessarily demand attention and care for ourselves for we live in total dependence on others. But we need to outgrow the needy child in us; for we are called to become mature people capable of loving selflessly. This Advent season, try to think of yourself less and less and reach out to those who are in need. Give up something precious to you for the sake of another whom you care about. Pray for the grace of selfless love.

Joseph’s Committed Love. While Joseph was willing to let Mary go very carefully as not to disgrace her, he was magnanimous in yet another way as he manifested willingness to commit himself to God’s purpose. When the angel Gabriel announced to him his important role to be the legal father of Jesus by the act of naming him, He willingly obeyed. He saw his own purpose in life. God had chosen him for this. It was not a coincidence that he was a descendant of David; his acceptance conferred the same Davidic lineage to Jesus, thus, fulfilling what had been prophesied about the Messiah who was to come from the line of David.

Joseph is great because he embraced with a committed love his God-designated purpose in life. We are called to the same greatness too. To lead a great life is to live according to the purpose God has designated for each one of us. No one among us is an accident. God is not a clumsy Creator. He is the God of order and harmony and of wise designs. He has a purpose for his every act. He has a purpose for each one of us. Our task is to discern, by reflection, by self-examination, or even through our dreams, what on earth are we here for? And then like Joseph, may we have a big heart to embrace our own calling.

To end, let’s go back to the film: Señor Manuel and Luisa are preparing now for their wedding. Gabriel is willing to sacrifice his love for Luisa. Little did he know, Señor Manuel has known Gabriel’s feelings and the sacrifice he and Luisa are willing to take. The good old man, then, declares that there’s not going to be a wedding. He knows that Luisa and Gabriel, these two persons dear to him, will be much happier and fulfilled together. So the story ends with another person’s display of a magnanimous heart. It’s edifying to watch a great person.

This Advent season, let us aspire to be great, like Joseph, by cultivating a magnanimous heart—a heart willing to love and lose for a greater cause and a heart willing to love and embrace the purpose God has set for our lives.

Good News Proclaimed to the Poor ( Gaudete Sunday A)

On this Gaudete Sunday, we are invited to rejoice—not with shallow optimism, but with a joy rooted in this Advent recognition: the Lord is near! Isaiah dares us to imagine deserts in bloom and bodies restored. The Psalm sings of a God who “secures justice for the oppressed… sets captives free… sustains the orphan and the widow” (Ps 146). And Jesus confirms the hour of salvation: “the poor have the good news proclaimed to them” (Mt 11:5). Could there be a more compelling reason to rejoice than this—God’s nearness made visible in mercy and justice? This is our joy, and this is our mission.

Allow me to reflect on this call to rejoice and, by implication, on the invitation to embrace with joy the challenge of a synodal conversion within the national synodal framework—Tinig-Tawag, Tawid-Tanaw, TapakTindig, and Tipan—so that the Church may become ever more Good News for the poor. 

Rejoice! The Lord Is Near to the Poor.

We rejoice because God draws near to those who are last, least, and lost. Isaiah announces God’s saving nearness to the frightened and the frail: “Be strong, fear not! Here is your God… he comes to save you” (Is 35:4). Jesus confirms this promise by his deeds: “the blind regain their sight, the lame walk… and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them” (Mt 11:5). 

Salvation is not an idea; it is the Lord drawing close to restore dignity and hope. If God draws near to the poor, can we, as the Church, do anything less?

(Tinig-Tawag): Are we truly listening to God by listening to the cries of the poor, the migrants, farmers, fisherfolk, and creation? Joy deepens where the Church cultivates spaces of listening—such as parish circles, barrio visits, and shared discernment—where the poor speak and help shape the agenda. Perhaps our parish could form a small “Tinig Team” to host regular listening moments with those in poverty—letting their voices be heard in our gatherings.

Rejoice! The Kingdom Breaks in as Justice Is Done

We rejoice because the Lord’s reign already breaks in where sight is restored, bodies stand, and communities cross from indifference to conversion. Jesus points to these concrete signs that fulfill the promise of Isaiah. These are personal and social liberations - healing, cleansing, raising, evangelizing - that reveal the breaking in of God’s reign. Good news to the poor looks like access to healing, protection from exploitation, and pathways out of debt and hunger—signs that “God is here… to save you” (Is 35:4) and that in Jesus this saving nearness is already at work among the least (Mt 11:2–6, 11). 

(Tawid-Tanaw): The Spirit invites us to cross over from sympathy to structural charity and justice. Imagine our parishes as “Isaiah outposts”: providing legal aid, livelihood support, education scholarships, care for creation, and safe spaces for women and children. From time to time, we might try a simple “Justice Examen” as a community—looking at our budgets and ministries through the lens of the poor, and discerning whether a modest portion could be reoriented toward justice-focused initiatives.

Rejoice! Mercy Walks with Us.

We rejoice because God’s mercy is steadfast. The joy of waiting deepens not in haste but in humble companionship—precisely the path Micah commends: to “love mercy” and “walk humbly with your God” (Mi 6:8).

Mercy is not mere sentiment; it is faithful presence with families in crisis; it is accompaniment of the youth on the margins, the elderly, and those burdened by sin or shame. In this journeying together, the poor encounter Christ’s nearness through the nearness of his Church. Will we walk at the pace of the most vulnerable?

(Tapak-Tindig): We are invited to a pastoral stance that moves at the pace of the vulnerable. Some communities have found it life-giving to form “Mercy Circles” that accompany specific families or sectors over several months offering monthly visits, shared prayer, concrete support, and reflective listening. If this resonates with our parish rhythm, it could be a simple way for mercy to take one step, then another.

Conclusion: 

(Tipan): The covenant--Becoming a Synodal Church for the Poor. The call to rejoice is not naïveté; it is recognition. The Lord is near, and the poor are hearing the Good News where the Church listens, does justice, loves mercy, and walks humbly. 

Let us rejoice and become the sign we proclaim: deserts bloom, burdens lift, and hope finds a home among the poor. Perhaps this is what it means to be a synodal Church for the poor.

Visit to the Bajao Community

Sulong. Padayon.

Preparation (1st Sunday Advent A)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Dome of the Rock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The "Wailing Wall"

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

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

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

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

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

The Living Temple of God (Dedication of the Lateran Basilica)

Today we celebrate something that might sound unusual — the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome. You might ask, “Why do we celebrate the anniversary of a church building?”

It's because this basilica, dedicated in the 4th century by Pope Sylvester after Emperor Constantine made Christianity legal, is the cathedral of the Bishop of Rome — the Pope himself. It’s called the “mother and head of all churches in the world.” So when we celebrate its dedication, we are really celebrating our unity as one Church — one family of faith built on Christ.

1. God’s Dwelling among His People. The first reading from Ezekiel gives us a beautiful image — a river flowing from the Temple, bringing life wherever it goes.
That’s what the Church is meant to be: a source of life, healing, and renewal for the world.

But that challenges us today. Because when we hear of ghost projects and corruption in public life, we are reminded that the Church must be the opposite of that — transparent, life-giving, honest. We cannot just pray inside temples of stone; we must become living temples that bring truth and justice to society.

2. Jesus, the True Temple and the One Who Cleanses It. In the Gospel, Jesus drives out the money changers and declares, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.”

He was speaking about Himself — about His body. Jesus is the true Temple of God’s presence.

But notice: before revealing this truth, He first cleanses the temple. That cleansing must also happen today — in our hearts, in our Church, and in our society.

When greed and dishonesty take root, we are called to let Jesus turn over the tables, to drive out whatever keeps us from being holy and true.

3. We Are God’s Temple. St. Paul reminds us, “You are God’s temple, and the Spirit of God dwells in you.”
So the feast we celebrate today is not about a building in Rome — it’s about you and me.

Each of us is God’s dwelling place. And just like the Lateran Basilica, we too need cleansing, renewal, and restoration.

So let’s allow God’s Spirit to rebuild His temple in us — by living with honesty, compassion, and faith. When we choose truth over deceit, when we stand for what is right despite pressure or fear, we make God’s presence visible again in our world.

Conclusion. The Lateran Basilica stands in Rome as a symbol of the Church’s unity.
But the real temple God wants to dwell in is the human heart — pure, humble, and strong in faith. May this feast remind us that we are not just churchgoers — we are the Church itself.

Let us be living temples where truth, justice, and love can flow like Ezekiel’s river, bringing life to our families, our parishes, and our nation.

Love and Imperfections (All Soul’s Day)

Valentino, my father, was a good man. He was well known in our town for his availability to serve people in many and varied ways. He was the town's jack-of-all-trades. And he was really good at fixing a lot of things. A Jesuit priest fondly called him "MacGyver" after a TV series character who possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of the physical sciences and solves complex problems with everyday materials he finds at hand. When there was drought in our place, my dad fixed his tractor and with a trailer he would fetch water from a source and deliver some to those who badly needed it. He was everyone's friend, even the kids. He had a heart for the poor; many times, out of compassion, he would secretly give away the medicines from my mother's pharmacy. He was not as religious as many of us, but he trusted in God and feared Him. Later in his life, he devoted some of his time reading the Bible. In no time, he read it from cover to cover! 

But he had his flaws too. He could be impatient and could allow his temper to get the better of him. When he was in the throes of his anger, he could hurt his loved ones with his scathing words. He would not listen and could be unrelenting when he felt he was right.

In short, my father was a good man. But like everyone else, he wasn't perfect. He had his share of human faults and weaknesses. Today, on All Soul's Day, I remember him in a very special way. And I thank God for this day of grace. In a way, the message of today's feast is that despite our imperfections God's grace continues to draw everyone to his love. The Good News we are proclaiming today is that God loves us warts and all and that the love of God does not forsake our departed brothers and sisters even when they somehow failed to measure up to the ideals of Christian perfection.

Some Christians refuse to accept the Catholic teaching on purgatory—because the word does not appear in the Bible! Let us not be trapped in fundamentalism.  The teaching on purgatory is a comforting doctrine and perfectly consistent with the biblical message of God’s mercy and love.  As Catholics we speak of Purgatory as a state of being in which the faithful departed undergo the process of purification, purging away the imperfections and some selfish tendencies due to sin that hinder them from completely embracing God. In this process of purification, the benevolent God responds to the prayers of many to receive all his beloved children into his heavenly banquet.

It is with this belief that we offer our prayers and the celebration of the holy sacrifice of the Mass for our departed loved ones. This practice of praying for the dead has been done already by the early Christians. In his essay on this particular feast, Fr. Eugene Lobo S.J. has this to say: “Tradition tells us that Christians have always been praying for their departed brothers and sisters to remain in communion with them. Early liturgies and inscriptions on catacomb walls attest to the ancientness of prayers for the dead, even if the Church needed more time to develop a substantial theology behind this practice. Praying for the dead is actually borrowed from Judaism, as indicated in the second book of Maccabees.  In the New Testament, St Paul prays for his departed friend Onesiphorus to receive divine mercy as we read in second Timothy. Early Christian writers Tertullian and St. Cyprian testify to the regular practice of praying for the souls of the departed. Tertullian justified the practice based on custom and Tradition, and not on explicit scriptural teaching. The Christians always believed that their prayers could somehow have a positive effect on the souls of departed believers.”

The Benedictine communities during the 6th century held commemorations for the departed on the feast of Pentecost. Later in the year 998, All Souls’ Day became a universal festival because of the influence of Odilo of Cluny who commanded its annual celebration in the Benedictine houses of his congregation. This practice soon spread to the Carthusian congregations as well.   Today all Western Catholics celebrate All Souls’ Day on November 2.

Today, as we join billions of our brothers and sisters in the faith in prayers for the faithful departed, we thank God for the assurance that His love always awaits them our departed loved ones. We thank God for his love and mercy. Today’s celebration is also a reminder for us who are still on our pilgrimage that God offers his love and  awaits our total and complete response.  While on earth, as a pilgrim Church, God invites us to love him and the quality of our response to that love will have significant relevance on Judgment day.

Our gospel reading today (Mt. 25:31-46) reveals to us the standard by which we shall be judged on that day. To those who have proven their love of God by loving and serving the least of our brothers and sisters, the Kingdom of heaven awaits. "Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me" (v.34-36). We do all these acts of love and mercy for God whenever we do these for one of our least brothers and sisters.

God loves us and He invites us to respond to him in love. Yes, we are not perfect but, with God's grace, we can grow towards maturity and perfection as we love God through the least of our neighbors. Let us continue to pray for each other and for our departed brothers and sisters. Our prayers testify to our faith in the power of God's grace. It is God's grace that allows us to grow in perfection so that we may all deserve to come to see Him face to face in the heavenly banquet.

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?