Jesus' Compassion (18th Sunday Ordinary A)

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Crucified King (Christ the King C)

From day one up to now, believers and non-believers alike have been inspired by Pope Francis. On The Washington Post, Kathleen Parker wrote about Pope Francis:

“Pope Francis continues to delight and surprise as he pursues his radical pilgrimage across the global psyche - inspiring with his humility while also sending shock waves with his subversive spirit. Yes, make no mistake, this humble man from Argentina who describes himself first as a sinner and prefers simplicity to the opulence afforded by his station is, like Jesus Christ himself, a radical. He washes the feet of the poor while eschewing the ruby papal slippers for his own holy feet. He lives in humble quarters among colleagues rather than in the isolation of the Vatican suites where his predecessors have slept. He immerses himself in humanity while urging a greater pastoral role for the church and a de-emphasis on the harsh judgments of institutional authority.”

What makes Pope Francis tick? I think, as Kathleen Parker somewhat hinted at, it is that his ways remind us of Jesus Christ. And the world longs for a leader who is a living witness to Christ.  

In today’s gospel reading (Lk 23:35-43), Jesus is portrayed as the crucified King. In this reading, it is possible to bring out three traits of Christ the King that people of today somehow recognize in the ways of the present Pope: These are humility, compassion, and servant-leadership. These must also be our own, if we are indeed disciples of Christ the King and are edified by the leadership example of our Pope. 

Christ the King is a humble King. While he was hanging on the cross, the rulers, the soldiers, and one of the criminals beside him all sneered at him. Each of them challenged the crucified Lord to prove himself as the Messiah of God by saving himself from defeat and death on the cross. But He did not succumb to the temptation to use his power. On the cross, He remained humble and “powerless.” His way is the humble obedience to the Father, not the triumphalistic and egoistic display of power to show his greatness. He died utterly humiliated. But such humility was the very power of God that brought salvation to the world.

Pope Francis reminds us of the humility of Christ. He inspires us because he believes that humility attracts people to the Church, not power and pride. He once told the cardinals that the strength of the Gospel “is precisely in humility, the humility of a child who lets himself be guided by the love and tenderness of his father.” As he himself chooses to reject the opulent trappings of the papacy, the Pope invites the Church to leave behind whatever remaining vestiges of triumphalism it has gotten used to over the centuries. He invites the Church to be humble just as Christ the King is humble. This invitation touches the hearts of many people and deeply inspires them.

Christ the King is compassionate. The gospels have all recounted the many incidents when Jesus manifested his compassion for the least, the last and the lost. But today’s gospel reading highlights even more the compassion of Christ when, as He hanged on the cross facing his own death, he listened to the prayer of the thief beside him: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus recognized the implicit repentance in the prayer of this thief. Right there and then, Jesus’ compassionate heart granted the promise of eternal life to him. Herein lies the true power of the crucified King: not in casting harsh judgment on sinners but in showing compassion and mercy to the repentant.

Pope Francis too has been moving the hearts of thousands of people by his simple gestures of compassion. Once, he met a man covered in boils from head-to-toe, instead of recoiling from this man as some doctors even do, Pope Francis embraced him. In yet another instance in Saint Peter’s Square, the Pope noticed a man in the crowd with a severely disfigured face. The Pope approached him, embraced him as well and prayed with him. Pope Francis is showing the world the compassion of Christ the King. And more importantly he invites the Church to change focus. The Church, he said, should emphasize compassion and mercy instead of “small-minded rules.”

Christ is a servant-king.  To the world, a “servant-king” is an oxymoron, a combination of two contradictory concepts. But for Christ, the former fittingly defines the latter. As he had declared early on in his public ministry, the Son of Man “did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mt. 20:28). Hence, as a King, he rules not by domination but by serving even to the point of laying down his life for his people. He is not a king sitting pretty on a majestic throne but one awkwardly hanging on the cross bruised, wounded, and dying—all for the sake of whom he was sent to save.

Pope Francis too understands his leadership in terms of service just like Christ.  On his installation he proclaimed: "Let us never forget that authentic power is service…  The pope, too, when exercising power, must enter ever more fully into that service, which has its radiant culmination on the cross." And he calls the Church to rise beyond her tendency to be “self-referential” and to take the risk of reaching out to the poor in service. The Church, like her King, must be a servant Church.

With Pope Francis leading us in the spirit of Christ the King, we continue living out with joy and enthusiasm our Christian faith. Pope Francis has begun pointing us to Christ once again by his examples and exhortations on humility, compassion, and service. Just as Christ the King is humble, compassionate, and a servant, so his Church must be, so each of us must be.

Glad Tidings to the Poor (3rd Sunday Ordinary C)

“I am such a miserable man!” blurted out Jean Valjean, the main protagonist of Victor Hugo’s masterpiece, Les Misérables, upon realizing the depth of his wretchedness wrought by the cruelty of society and its oppressive laws and customs. He has become bitter and hateful, his heart hardened by nineteen years of imprisonment, all because of stealing a loaf of bread to feed her starving sister and her children! Yet this realization is now the turning point of his life. He has to change. The kindly Bishop Myriel, from whom he has stolen some precious silverware, has just treated him as a person with dignity, with a soul worthy of redemption. The bishop’s compassion and mercy, a stark contrast to the condemnation he is used to receive, gives him hope, invites him to transform himself into an honest man. Indeed, in the story, Jean Valjean changes from a miserable thief to a man with vision, a compassionate philanthropist who helps transform a town and significantly the lives of two other miserable ones: the unwed mother turned-prostitute, Fantine, and her abused child, Cosette.

The musical adaptation of this great 19th century masterpiece allows more people of today both to enjoy the arts and, more significantly, to be scandalized by society’s cruelty on those who are weak and powerless. As Victor Hugo would have it as the purpose of his work: “So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of earth..., so long as the three great problems of the century—the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light—are unsolved... books of the nature of Les Misérables cannot fail to be of use.”

Today millions are still in the misery of poverty, oppression, and powerlessness because those who are in power and control of resources find it politically and economically expedient to keep them that way.

Election in the Philippines is forthcoming. I bet people will hear the same tune of promises from political candidates, assuring the people of redemption from their misery. But election times, as we know all too well, have never failed to come up with great promises and have consistently toyed with the flickering hope of the poor. What we want to see is the fidelity of a leader to his/her words of promises and the genuine compassion for the miserable ones. Without fidelity, promises however great they may be are empty. Without genuine compassion, identification with the poor is but a show and a veiled exploitation.

Today’s gospel reading (Lk 1:1-4; 4:14-21) features Jesus’ inauguration of his messianic ministry. Facing the people of Nazareth in the synagogue, Jesus reads the messianic prophecy from the scroll of Isaiah. He proclaims thus: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… He has anointed me… to bring glad tidings to the poor… to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free… to announce a year of favor from the Lord” (v. 18-19).

And while all eyes are intently fixed on him as he hands back the scroll, he boldly proclaims the inauguration of the messianic time: “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing” (v. 21). This is like saying: “Today I come as the fulfilment of this promise. Today I inaugurate the messianic task of bringing the good news to the poor, to the captives, to the blind, to the oppressed.”

Allow me to highlights two things: First, the fidelity of God to his words and promise; second, Jesus’ identification of his mission with the poor.

God’s Fidelity to his Promise. In the person and mission of Jesus, God has fulfilled his promise of long ago to save his people from all forms of misery rooted in sin. Jesus is the fulfilment of the messianic prophecy (v. 21). Jesus, the Messiah, has ushered in the Kingdom of God where the poor celebrate the bounty of God, the captives enjoy a life of freedom, the blind rejoice in seeing the beauty that surrounds them, the oppressed cherish their dignity.

When God promises, God makes good of that. We are never left empty. How has God been faithful to his promise to me? How has he been liberating me from the clout of sin that oppresses me?

As Christians we continue the mission of Christ. We are asked to be faithful to the gospel we preach. The miserable ones of our society are yearning for such fidelity. Have we not left our words and promises empty? As a Church, have we not paid a lip-service to our commitment to the poor?

Jesus’ Identification with the Poor. The first and privileged recipients of the Messiah’s mission are the socially and physically deprived, the economically poor, and the politically oppressed. The gospel of Luke brings this out in Jesus’ personal dealings and his teaching. In this inaugural proclamation, Jesus pronounces that his prophetic ‘anointing’ is to identify him with the lowliest and the most forgotten.

Today, as in the context of Les Misérables, the poor continue to be exploited, women and children to be abused. Am I part of those who are taking advantage of the helplessness of these miserable ones? The gospel today invites us to be identified with the helpless as Jesus was. This means cultivating genuine compassion and love for the least of our brothers and sisters and spending time, treasure, and talent to bring the glad tidings of change to their miserable lives.

In Les Misérables, Bishop Myriel’s silver candlesticks are the most prominent symbol of compassion as they shed the light of love and hope. The bishop’s gesture of giving Valjean the silver candlesticks is a haunting invitation for Valjean to rise from his misery and to pass on the same redemptive compassion to those who need it. Our baptismal candle too reminds us of Jesus’ mission being passed unto us, his disciples, to make a difference in society as we bring the glad tidings of God’s compassion and love to the miserable ones.

Life is a Gift (10th Sunday Ordinary C)

Years ago as a seminarian, I used to visit a sickly widow who was taken care of by her only son.  I would read her the Sunday Gospel, share with her my reflections, listen to hers too, and give her the communion for the sick. One Sunday morning, after a short Christmas break, I went to visit her. To my bewilderment, she wept vigorously on her chair as she saw me came.  Her neighbor, who was taking care of her that day, informed me that her only son died in an accident during the Christmas season. I was shocked and dumbfounded. How could this thing happen to her? I could only sit in silence beside the grieving widow wishing I had the power to bring back her son.  My heart was moved with pity but I felt my own helplessness too. I just kept on visiting her every Sunday until she overcame her grief and wept no more.

Today’s gospel reading (Lk 7:11-17) tells of a similar situation in the city of Nain where the Lord encountered a widow whose son died.  The Lord was moved with pity.  He revived the dead to life and gave him back to his mother. The first reading too (1 Kgs 17:17-24) is a parallel story: the Prophet Elijah called out to God in order to bring back the life of the son of the widow in whose house the Prophet was staying. And God did bring back the life of the child.

Allow me to dwell on the gospel reading (Lk 7:11-17) and bring out three things for our reflection:

“Do not weep.”  The Lord, in his compassion, could not stand the grief of the mother who was a widow.  As a widow, she was already poor for there were no job opportunities for women then.  Losing the only son, would make her the poorest of the poor having no social security system to lean on.  The widow could only weep because of her pitiful plight, losing her husband and now her only son. With the death of her son, she just actually lost everything.  The Lord sees the grief of the poor widow and with compassion told her, “Do not weep” (v. 13).

It is helpful to note that in this incident the initiative came from the Lord. The widow was not begging or asking him to bring back her son. She was just lost in her grief weeping. Unlike other but similar incidents, this one did not mention about the faith of the widow as requirement to God’s grace. This allows us to see the initiative and gratuitousness of God’s merciful and compassionate acts.  Somehow, this assures us that God sees, even before we formulate and articulate our prayers, the intense yearning of our hearts, the longing to be freed from our deepest grief and sufferings.  This is the prayer of the heart.  God sees through our hearts and acts out of his compassion.  Haven’t we experienced God’s gracious interventions in our lives even if we feel undeserving of his grace?

“I tell you, arise!” Jesus commanded the dead man to rise! The young man sat up and began to speak. Jesus gave him to his mother (vv. 14-15). What Jesus did was resuscitation of the earthly life and not yet the resurrection of the dead.  But this event certainly foreshadowed the definitive victory of life over death in Jesus’ resurrection through which He won for us the gift of eternal life.

Life is a precious gift.  God is its author. Only God gives life.  We ought to be grateful for our lives. In the spirit of gratitude, we ought to protect and celebrate life. We need to be wary of the misleading secular philosophies that views life as liability rather than as gift and resource. We need to overcome the “culture of death” that is conspiring against life, espousing measures that both oppress and suppress life in favor of economic gains and maintenance of the concentration of wealth among the powerful and the rich. Life is of the highest value; all social systems ought to be at the service of life, not the other way around.

“And they glorified God.” When life was brought back, both in the incidents involving the prophet Elijah and Jesus Christ, God’s power was acknowledged. In the first reading, the mother, upon seeing that her son was brought back to life through the prayers of Elijah, acknowledged that indeed Elijah was a man of God and was speaking of God’s word (1 Kgs 17: 24). In the gospel reading, all who witnessed the revival of the dead man’s life, glorified God exclaiming that “God has visited his people” (Lk 7:16).

God’s power is felt wherever and whenever death is overcome and life triumphs. He is the sole author of life and no one else.  We all died because of sin. But God in his compassion and great mercy gratuitously endows us with the gift of life and, in Jesus’ resurrection, has overcome death and has assured us of eternal life.  Indeed, we are a people who have seen the visitation of God; we have experienced God’s compassion and love.  Let us then be the people who glorify God—the God who hears with compassion the prayer of our hearts and tells us to stop weeping because death is no more; what He gives us is life as a precious gift.