Sharing Even the Last Bread (Corpus Christi C)

What can five loaves and two fish do? How can these ever satisfy the hunger of the multitude? Five loaves and two fish for the five thousand men?!  Not to mention women and children who were most likely among the crowd! Impossible!

This must have been the thoughts of the apostles in today’s gospel (Lk 9: 11b-17) as they counselled Jesus to dismiss the crowd that they might find their own lodging and provisions.  The feeling of helplessness and resignation must have dominated the apostles’ attitude:  Helplessness because of the obvious poverty of resources in the face of so great a need; and resignation because they felt no longer capable of addressing the crowd’s hunger. The need was simply beyond what they thought they could handle, so they opted for the easy solution—“dismiss the crowd” (v. 12).

This temptation to feel helpless and resigned is indeed very strong whenever we are confronted with the problem of having to come to terms with so little resources for so great a need.  I had the opportunity to start a parish from out of a rural chapel community. Right away as I began the journey with the people, I was made aware of so many things to be done which required, of course, resources.  Indeed, there were times when we were tempted to feel helpless whenever we realized we have very little to start with.  It wasn’t difficult to wonder, as the Lord’s apostles did, what can five loaves and two fish do in the face of all the needs.

Sharing overcomes poverty. But the gospel today not only assures us that we are not left alone in our poverty but also shows us the secret to overcoming the needs of the community.  As an assurance, Jesus does not dismiss the hungry crowd to fend for themselves. Rather, the gospel recounts that after gathering the people, Jesus takes, blesses, breaks, and gives the five loaves and two fish to the crowd to satisfy everyone present and even amazes them with the abundant surplus afterwards. Jesus takes whatever we can offer even out of our poverty, blesses them and does his marvelous works out of them.  Jesus brings us out of the helplessness of our poverty and assures us of the unlimited abundance that he offers. The secret: He starts by asking what we have to offer. The secret to abundance is sharing even whatever little we have.

Are we willing to offer him the last bread and fish that we have? Or do we hold on to our limited resources to make sure we have something left for ourselves albeit little?

I am more and more convinced that any form of poverty in any community is fundamentally rooted in the unwillingness of the individuals to share what they are keeping for themselves. There’s a lot of wisdom in our erstwhile national slogan, “Bayan muna bago sarili.” We could have been enjoying in abundance now had we truly lived by the maxim. Instead, starting from our public leaders down to the hoi poloi, what we tend to do is to make sure that we get for ourselves or our families and clan whatever is up for grabs.  “Sarili muna bago ang bayan.” Isn't this complete disregard of the common good in favor of our selfish agenda which serves as the sturdy backbone of the poverty in many of our communities?

Becoming a Eucharistic Community. The gospel today recounting the multiplication of bread and fish alludes to the last supper event when Jesus instituted the Eucharist.  His four acts, taking, blessing, breaking, and giving are common to these two events. So more than just a recounting of Jesus’ miraculous acts of multiplication of the bread, the gospel today is a catechesis on the Eucharist. The community that Jesus founded is essentially a Eucharistic community. A community that gathers, celebrates, and makes present the self-sacrificing act of Jesus at the last supper. Jesus offered to the Father not just any bread. What He took, blessed, broke, and gave was no longer an ordinary bread but the bread of life—his body, his very self.

What do we have to offer? Jesus wants us to offer even the last bread that we keep. It is little for sure. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that we offer the little that we have for the good of the community we belong to just as He offered himself for the sake of the many.

A Eucharistic community will always be one that transcends self-centeredness, one whose members are willing to do some acts of self-sacrifice... of “breaking” oneself to be “given” to others.

Hence, the Solemnity of Corpus Christi today is a renewal of our commitment as a Eucharistic community where the miracle of our Lord continues to happen. And the miracle is this: that each one of us is willing to give whatever one has, even one’s very self, for the good of the community just as Jesus does.  Then, we can be the joyful witnesses of the amazing left-over and abundance of God’s grace more than enough to dispel our sense of helplessness and our defeatist resignation.

Cravings and Satisfaction (18th Sunday Ordinary B)

Down South, Bubba called his attorney and asked, "Is it true they're suin' the cigarette companies for causing people to get cancer?

"Yes, Bubba, sure is true,” responded the lawyer.

"And now someone's suin' them fast food restaurants for making 'em fat and cloggin' their hearts with all them burgers and fries, is that true mister lawyer?"

"Sure is Bubba. But why you asking?"

"Cause what I want to know is, I was thinkin' can I sue Budweiser for all them ugly women I've slept with?"

We may take offense at Bubba’s sexist undertones but more to the point is how the conversation reveals the folly of indulging in our cravings and then blaming others for the harm and meaninglessness it brings to our life.

This generation that pampers and glorifies the body is more likely a reaction to the generation of ascetics. While the generations before exercised self-denial, lived an austere lifestyle, and even “punished” the body for greater spiritual freedom, today, our generation has developed a proclivity to bodily pleasure and physical satisfaction. We eat, drink, smoke, and indulge in sex to our heart’s content. Or the more health conscious among us show extra care for the body by taking whatever food supplements available. The vain among us, moreover, are just happy to spend their fortune for cosmetic applications and procedures if only to enhance and maintain their beautiful looks. We search for satisfaction and we seem to hope to find it by way of physical gratification.

But the fact is we are never satisfied. We end up feeling emptier despite the clutter with which we have bombarded our selves, more hungry and enslaved by stronger cravings than when we started out the quest for satisfaction.

Jesus, in today’s gospel (Jn 6: 24-35), chided the crowd that have been following him. They were following him for the wrong reason--for satisfaction of bodily hunger. They had partaken of the loaves miraculously multiplied by Jesus. Now they were following him for more bread! Jesus pointed this out to them as he said, “You are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled” (v. 26).

Jesus, wishing to lead them to the real meaning of the signs, continued addressing them and said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger” (v. 35). Jesus is the bread who truly satisfies us. This is the meaning of the miracle. It is He, Jesus, who satisfies not just our physical hunger but more deeply our spiritual hunger. Jesus is asking us to follow him not for more miracles of bread for the hungry stomach. He is asking us to follow HIM, the bread of life. His way of life is what satisfies our human existence truly. Discipleship offers us true meaning in life.

Our problem today is much similar to that of the crowd following Jesus. We don’t take notice of our spiritual hunger as much as we do our physical cravings. We spend our money, energy, and time much on food, drinks, sex, cosmetics, food supplements and whatever gives us immediate but temporary gratification. But how much do we invest for our spiritual needs and longing?

What is tricky though is that even when we believe we are into spiritual things we may still be suffering from profound spiritual handicap. For instance, as Charles Ringma noted (in the Dare to Journey with Henri Nouwen) many of the renewal movements that offer a ‘life in the Spirit’ do not produce “a depth of spirituality with a vision for God, a strength of personal character, a passion for God’s Kingdom of justice and mercy, and a prayer life which expresses itself in costly discipleship and servanthood. Life in the Spirit has often become a comfortable self-seeking and ‘me-centered’ form of spirituality which emphasizes joy, but knows little about growth through trial and difficulty.”

Hence, while we think we are spiritually filled, we may in fact be empty-handed much like the crowd following Jesus for the sake of self-interested blessings. Our spiritual hunger persists because we are fed with bread other than Jesus himself.

What’s the invitation then? It is to attend to our spiritual longing by ‘feeding’ on the Bread of Life, Jesus Christ. This of course reminds us of our participation in the sacrament of the Eucharist where we receive Jesus, the Lord, through the signs of the bread and wine. Do we nourish our spiritual hunger by our meaningful celebration of the Eucharist?

But beyond the sacramental celebration though, the invitation is for us to allow Jesus to dwell in us and let our lives be transformed into the kind that Jesus demands of us. In other words, beyond the sacramental participation, or more appropriately, along with it, is the invitation to real discipleship.

A satisfying life necessarily has to move beyond physical and temporary gratification of our hungers which paradoxically leads to a deeper emptiness. A fully satisfying life is that which is driven by a spirituality—one that is God-centered, passionate for God’s Kingdom of justice, peace and love. It is a spirituality of ‘costly discipleship’—following not merely for the bread and for the sake of the blessings but following Jesus HIMSELF, his way of life characterized by service and self-giving.

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.

A Treasure that Gives Life (Corpus Christi Sunday A)

After almost three hours of exhausting walk to a far-flung barrio chapel, I and Alfonso, who graciously carried my things throughout the long trek, were at last met by the community.  There were only fifteen of them waiting to celebrate the Eucharist as we arrived!  While we rested, still catching our breath, Alfonso couldn’t hide his disappointment and asked me why must we travel on foot that far for only fifteen people.  Before I could offer a consoling answer, I was handed a pitcher of fresh Buko juice which I mercilessly gobbled down to the dregs.  After such a refreshing treat, I told Alfonso, “I know the answer to your question: The longer the walk, the sweeter the Buko juice becomes.”

In a more serious note, I wish to reflect on the question as we celebrate today the Solemnity of Corpus Christi.  The celebration, I believe, lends itself to our quest for meaning as regards our true Eucharistic piety.  My answer to Alfonso should have been: “Because the Eucharist is a treasure.  We have to go out of our way, cross the same river for over ten times under the scorching sun, brave the perils of the jungle, and pant for air to survive because we are up for a treasure—the pearl of great prize—long held by the Christian communities for generations.”

Pope John Paul II, in his spiritual reflection Ecclesia de Eucharistia, presents the Eucharist as our treasure as he says: “The treasure of the Eucharist... impels us towards the goal of full sharing with all our brothers and sisters to whom we are joined by our common baptism. But if this treasure is not to be squandered, we need to respect the demands which derive from its being the sacrament of communion in faith and in apostolic succession. By giving the Eucharist the prominence it deserves, and by being careful not to diminish any of its dimensions or demands, we show that we are truly conscious of the greatness of this gift.”

Source of communion as Brethren. In other words, the Pope reminds us of the greatness of the gift of the Eucharist and calls us to safeguard it as our treasure because it is in the Eucharist that we derive our life as Christian communities.  It is in the celebration of the Eucharist that we live out our communion as brothers and sisters in Christ sharing in the one and the same baptism as attested to by the second reading, 1 Cor. 10: 16-17—“We, many though we are, are one body for we all partake in one loaf.” In my pastoral experience, I can attest to the fact that the more a community gathers to celebrate the Eucharist, the more they burst with life with more and more people participating in the communal life and celebrating the diversity of their gifts as one community of faith.

Source of eternal life for Christ’s disciples. The Eucharist is a treasure because it is the source of the life of Christ’s disciples. The Body and Blood of Christ, in the humble signs of bread and wine, give life to those who receive them.  Our first reading (Dt. 8: 2-3, 14-16) reminds us that God’s people were fed with manna, a food unknown to them, in order to show them that man lives not by bread alone but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of the Lord (v. 3).  In the same vein, the Gospel of John (Jn. 6: 51-52) instructs us that it is Jesus who is the living bread that comes down from heaven.  The real manna of everlasting life. “He who feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has life eternal (v. 54).

Source of perfect union with Christ.  The Eucharist is a treasure because it makes possible the unique experience of “mutual indwelling” of Christ and the disciple in each other.  It is through the reception of the body and blood of Christ that we experience Christ living in us and us living in Christ. “The man who feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him” (v. 56). We can say therefore that through our participation in the Eucharist we attain life eternal. And this eternal life is not so much about the length of life (and one which we shall have in the hereafter) as it is about the quality of life that we possess in the here and now. We speak of the life of Christ in us. It is divine life throbbing in us, impelling us to live as Christ lived—a life of love. 

No wonder then, that a priest takes all the troubles in going to the far-off communities in order to share this treasure to them. No wonder then, I was often told, that our overseas Filipino workers hunger for the Eucharistic celebration in foreign lands where they are deprived of this treasure.  They are there to “eke out a living.” But only the Eucharist can grant them true life—the life with Christ.

As we celebrate, then, the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ today, let us approach the altar and feed on Christ in the signs of bread and wine turned to his body and blood. As we approach, let our hearts well up with gratitude for being so blessed as to receive this great gift of the source of eternal life. As we receive the Lord, let us do it with an interior devotion that shows how we truly treasure Jesus Christ who gives life by living in us.

Then, in silence, we pray for all Christians in foreign lands who are deprived of this great treasure—they may be your father or mother, husband or wife, brother or sister, or your friend. Pray also for all priests consecrated primarily for the celebration of the Eucharist, that they may draw their own life from it—from the treasure that gives life.

Banquets and the Kingdom (28th Sunday Ordinary A)

Filipinos have an irredeemable penchant for fiesta celebration.  We celebrate feasts at all cost. Just imagine the Sinulog of Cebu. When the feast of the Santo Nino is approaching, all roads lead to Cebu City. Of course, when talking about fiesta celebration, one cannot help but mention one’s experience with the people of Bohol! The whole month of May is an uninterrupted fiesta celebration. This fondness for feasts lends itself to our easy appreciation of the motif of today’s parable of the wedding feast (Mt. 22:1-14).

Right away we would react with disbelief to the parable’s account of the guests’ act of refusal or attitude of indifference to the invitation of the King who gave a wedding feast for his son.  A true-blooded Filipino does not refuse a feast.  Come on! He would travel half of the globe in order to be part of the celebration!  

In the Philippines, when organizing a feast, the organizers’ primary and most thorny concern is not whether or not the guests will come but how to control the onslaught of a horde of mamistahay (those who come ready for the feast) which probably is as devastating as the storm Yolanda.

The Kingdom of God as a banquet. The parable compares the Kingdom of God to a feast, a wedding banquet, to where all peoples are invited. When the intended guests refused to come, (thanks be to God!), the banquet was opened to anyone in the streets, “bad and good alike.”  The Kingdom of God then becomes universal. Everyone can partake of the abundance of the celebration.  This banquet refers to the triumphant celebration of the eschatological fulfilment of time.  This is our destiny. When history shall have come to its fulfilment and finally gives way to the Kingdom of God, all peoples will be together in that joyful celebration as in a banquet hosted by our loving God.  Who would dare choose to be left out?

On the way to that destiny, the Eucharist is the banquet through which we have a foretaste of what is to come. In the Eucharistic celebration, we come together as one family and partake of the meal in the spirit of solidarity or of communion, with hope for the final fulfilment of God’s plan of salvation.  We are a people of hope; every moment of Eucharistic celebration enkindles such hope.  But we have to ask this:  When we celebrate, who are left out? This is a pastoral question of great importance.  My observation is that one significant sector that tends to be left out of our Eucharistic celebrations is the youth of today.  More and more the youth are finding our Eucharistic celebration as strange... and boring!  We’ve got to muster all our remaining creative juices to attract them.

The requirement in the Kingdom. Another point in the parable is the requirement of “proper attire” in the Kingdom of God. The man who came to the banquet without a wedding garment was thrown out to the dark where punishment awaits him (vv.12-13).  The proper garment for the wedding banquet stands for the quality of active Christian life.  This means putting on Jesus Christ.  This is trying on the garb of Christ’s values.  Nominal membership is not enough in the Kingdom just as nominal Catholics do no good to the Church. One can only be worthy of God’s Kingdom when he puts on the cloth of self-giving, leading a life of service and love; when he dons the cloth of forgiveness, letting go of any harboured hatred and desire for vengeance; when he tries on the cloth of truth and justice, correcting the culture of corruption and social inequalities in our communities.  The Kingdom of God is incompatible with the “disvalues” of this sinful world. While, according to God’s plan, all has a place in this Kingdom, those who persist in their sins by rejecting Christ and everything He stands for would naturally find themselves out of place.

Family meals as our daily banquet. Final point, our participation in the feast of God’s Kingdom may well be learned through our faithfulness to our simple family meal each day. There used to be a good advertisement on TV portraying the value of sharing meal as a family. The parents were worried about the prevalent practice of premarital sex among the young generation of today. At table, the parents told their son that during their time, his father waited till they got married. The son said, “Sabi ng tropa, ang tunay na lalaki ay binibinyagan.” The parents were quite alarmed and asked, “Eh, anong sabi mo?”  The son replied, “Ang tunay na lalaki ay marunong maghintay.” The ads showed the parents’ sigh of relief and concluded to this effect:  There’s a good chance of effectively guiding the growing up children to the right values when families share meals together. Amen to that.

We want to bring back the youth to the community of God? We want every Christian to put on the values of Christ? Call me traditional, but I am convinced that the simple gathering of the families each day sharing meals together can still do the trick. The family meal is also a foretaste of the banquet of God’s Kingdom. The family meal is the perfect wholesome gathering where we all learn how to enjoy life and to manifest love for one another. It is where we learn the basics of putting on Christ in our lives. It is the feast to where we are all invited to partake each beautiful day.