A Fresh Start (1st Sunday of Advent C)

In 2009, Roland Emmerich came up with the film 2012, an apocalyptic sci-fi thriller following the prophecy stated by the ancient Mayan calendar which says that the world will come to an end on December 21, 2012.  Fortunately, there must have been a mistake in the calculation. 

I would like to submit though that we can have a fruitful reflection on this subject by drawing a parallelism between the movie 2012 and today’s apocalyptic gospel (Lk 21:25-28, 34-36) even as we welcome a new liturgical year on this first Sunday of Advent. I suggest, without trying to be exhaustive, three elements: The impending end, the promise of new beginning, and the transformative anticipation.

The impending end: The movie 2012 is at first glance all about the end of the world as we know it now.  In the vein of classic disaster movies like Armageddon, Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow, etc. 2012 depicts a cosmic disaster already foretold by the Mayan calendar centuries ago to happen in the year 2012.  As such it certainly sends shivers down our spines. The end as depicted in 2012 brings global destruction. An end to everything humanity has known and built throughout its history.

Similarly, today’s gospel employs this apocalyptic literary genre describing the great tribulation that will befall the face of the earth: “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars and on earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will die of fright…for the power of heavens will be shaken” (v. 25-26).

Are we afraid of the end? A spontaneous unreflected initial thought would right away say “yes.” But a second look might reveal our true desire. Aren’t we tired of the endless forms of suffering of humanity because of our own foolishness? Don’t we desire an end to the social injustices inflicted upon the poor and the weak? Don’t we long for a stop to the violence we wreak upon one another?  

Our world’s suffering on account of sin is unspeakable. Creation is groaning for an end of this senseless domination of the power of evil and sin.

The promise of a new beginning: The end though is just one side of the coin. The other side is the promise of a new beginning. 2012 depicts a horrible process of end only to usher in a fresh beginning for humanity and planet earth. The movie’s suggestion is nothing but a hi-tech rendition of Noah’s ark. Today’s gospel too is really not so much about the end as about the dawning of the new creation in Christ. “And they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. When these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because redemption is at hand” (v 27-28).

The apocalyptic accounts in scriptures are meant to strengthen our faith in the ultimate victory of God over the power of sin that has thwarted the beautiful plan of God for his creation. Sin has marred the beauty of his creation. It has dominated the world and is leading it to its destruction. But God will re-create through the redemptive power of Jesus Christ. On that day when the Son of Man comes in glory and power, redemption is at hand. A new creation! A fresh beginning!

The transformative anticipation: The impending end propels every significant character in the movie to respond actively to the advent of the cataclysmic end. Huge modern hi-tech ships (Noah’s ark) have been constructed. Scientists have been monitoring the earth’s movements; world leaders have been meeting and planning. Broken families have tried to truly communicate once again. Similarly, today’s gospel sounds its call for vigilance and prayer. “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap” (v 34-35).

Anticipation is not sitting back and hopelessly waiting for the end to come. The apocalyptic genre certainly evokes urgency. We need to anticipate the end and the new beginning responsibly. To put an end to our greed, hatred, injustices, and all forms of our collective sinfulness, we need to be transformed. To start anew means to leave behind all these and put on the grace of Christ who enables us to love, to care, to be just, to forgive…

A scene in the movie expresses this well. When the elite of this world had embarked onto the ships, the acting captain ordered for an early locking up; hence, barring thousands of people from entering. This was a decisive moment for humanity’s transformation. The thoughtful scientist challenged the captain’s decision with these similar words, “If up to this moment we continue to be uncaring to one another, if we allow thousands to die when we can actually do something about it, with what will we begin? What kind of humanity will we start with?”

Today is the first Sunday of Advent. A fresh start in our liturgical life. A season that reminds us of the urgency of conversion. No. Not so much because of the impending end. We need to change because it is the only way to the promise of a new beginning.

Am I ready to shed off my boring, ugly, unfruitful, unforgiving, hateful old self? In this advent season, will I embark into the promise of a fresh start? Will I allow myself the joy of living in the newness of life in Christ?

Allegiance of the Heart (Christ the King B)

Today we give honor to the King of kings—Jesus Christ. On this Feast of Christ the King which signals the end of the liturgical year, it’s fitting to reflect on how we have given honor to him. How have we shown allegiance to our King?

It is one thing to profess in words that Christ is the King; it’s quite another to sincerely order our lives according to what pleases the King. The former act may well be fulfilled by lip-servicing as many of us do actually; the latter requires a great deal of trust and surrender to God’s will. The former may not transform our self-centeredness; the latter can change our value system and way of life, the will of God being at the center.

Have we allowed Jesus to be truly the King of our lives?  And what might this act of surrender imply?

In today’s gospel (Jn 18:33-37) Jesus is in trial in front of Pilate. The exchange between them unfolds the nature of Jesus’ Kingship. “Are you the king of the Jews?” is the question thrown by Pilate to Jesus. The answer to which determines whether or not Jesus is guilty of treason as charged. And Jesus answers obliquely that his “kingdom does not belong to this world.” This implies of course that indeed he is a king but of a different order.

All earthly kings rule in the external public forum--the socio-economic and political affairs-- which is configured by men and governed by them. No. Jesus is King not of that order. His kingdom does not rely on military strategies, or on economic systems, or on political power.

Instead, Jesus is king of the internal forum—the affairs of the heart, the arena of conscience—where the deepest spiritual strivings and the search for the truth transpire. As such, this arena is far superior to the former. The allegiance of the heart is immeasurably more profound than any external public adherence, say, to a political party. Thomas More, for instance, is remembered by his remarks just before his execution: “I die as the king’s true servant, but God’s first.”

Ultimately, the interior adherence to Jesus in faith ought to influence the way we conduct even our external public affairs. This is why even without military personnel and political machinery, Jesus’ kingship is radically transformative—the very reason why the revered people in the corridors of power in his time wanted to get rid of him!

“Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” (v. 37). This is the statement of our King. Listening to his voice is how we show our allegiance to him. This means allowing Jesus to rule the affairs of our hearts and letting his truth reverberate in every nook and cranny of our conscience. To accept Jesus as king, then, is to be aware of the interior adherence of faith he demands and to actually live by it each day.

But how do we grow in this “interior allegiance of the heart?” How can we truly discern the voice of the King in our lives? Let me suggest three elements adapted from the thoughts of Fr. Thomas Green, SJ, a spiritual director and writer:

A desire to do God’s will. To grow in this interior allegiance to Christ, we ought to cultivate this desire to do his will and to let go of our self-centered whims and caprices. We should desire to accomplish God’s work in our lives. This means that what the Lord wants is more important to us than what we want. If we honestly do not have this desire to do his will, how else can we profess that He is our King other than by lip-servicing?

Openness to God. To genuinely desire God’s will, we must be open to God as he reveals himself in his mysterious, surprising, and even disturbing ways. We must be open to be taught and be led the by the Lord. We must let him be the boss. Isn’t it true that often we approach God with all our preconceptions of him? And we even place him within the limiting confines of our expectations! If the Lord’s will matters to us the most, then these limited and limiting notions of him must give way to openness, letting God be God and truly our King.

A Knowledge of God. We can only know what pleases the Lord when we have known him. This knowledge is not just information about God but our lived experience of him. If we lack this personal and experiential knowledge of God, then we need to grow in this by the help of a spiritual guide or the support of a community who has grown in intimacy with the Lord. Hence, it is essential that we continue to ask the grace of intimacy with the Lord as it is impossible to surrender our lives to a King whom we do not know and care about.

We end this liturgical year with this Feast of Christ the King. Let us strive then, with God’s enabling grace, to listen to God’s voice in the deepest recesses of our hearts and, guided by it, lead a life that is truly pleasing to him.

What Hope Is There? (33rd Sunday Ordinary B)

Why do bad people prosper? Conversely and even more poignant: Why do good people needlessly suffer? It’s without rhyme or reason indeed. Our human logic and sense of justice demand that the other way around ought to be true. But no amount of wishful thinking can seem to change this reality. Oftentimes, this makes us helplessly angry. We protest. We cry out for justice. We gnash our teeth, for instance, when corrupt leaders get away with wholesale thievery of public funds pointing a finger to helpless escape goats, continue to assume power and influence, and even get second chances! Whereas people of integrity never make it to public positions of leadership or if they do, they are either persecuted or die early. It’s appalling, isn’t it? This isn’t fair.

I cannot forget, for instance, what happened to the dedicated high school principal in a town of Sulu in 2009.  The principal was kidnapped, accordingly by the Abu Sayyaf extremists, and two million pesos was demanded for the ransom! One could only wonder how they could do such a thing to a public teacher.  Worse, after several weeks, the news was out that the poor principal was beheaded; most probably for not coming up with the ransom! The savagery inflicted on a person who had been selfless in serving the educational needs of such a place where people like to go the least was simply revolting. I did not know the teacher personally; but just the same, I felt every fiber of my being, just as many others do, cry out for justice and retribution on his behalf. Was this rightful demand for justice met? So far, the straightforward answer is NO.

What then can satisfy our rightful longing for justice? What hope is there for the righteous to be rendered what they truly deserve?

Today’s readings are about this hope. The language of the first reading (Dn 12:1-3) and the gospel today (Mk 13:24-32) is apocalyptic. Apocalyptic literature sounds terrifying as it describes graphically the end of time; but in fact, it has something to do with the people’s cry for justice and retribution. The evil seem to have their way in history. They prosper. The good long for their reward as promised; but all too often, it is not given them. They even suffer. This same observation of old made the Jewish prophetic tradition gradually realize that justice for the faithful would have to reach beyond the here and now. The apocalyptic eschatology then emerged such as that of the book of Daniel. This apocalyptic literature is an expression of hope that there will be an end to this history fraught with injustices. The end of time will mark the ultimate victory of God over evil. God’s justice will certainly reign.

In today’s gospel, for instance, after describing the days of tribulation marked by the darkening of the sun and the moon, the dislocation of the stars, and the agitation of the powers in the heavens, the evangelist Mark announces the coming of the Son of Man in the clouds with great power and glory to gather his elect from all parts of the world.

‘The Son of Man coming in the clouds’ is an expression that reveals Jesus as a divine judge.  Those who have been faithful will finally have their vindication. Thus, Mark’s intention in this apocalyptic writing is to exhort the Christian communities of his time to remain faithful in the face of persecution and suffering. This gospel is a message of hope and encouragement rather than of fear.  It’s the evangelist way of saying, “Don’t lose heart! Hold on! God will have the final word!”

We all could use such an encouragement. When our commitment for justice seems to come to naught, when our goodness seems to have no reward, when our conscientious witnessing of our faith brings persecution and suffering, we need to heed this voice again and again: “Don’t lose heart! Hold on! God will have the final word!” This assurance in no way tolerates a fatalistic attitude to life. This is not an encouragement to be passive towards injustices, relegating resolution to the afterlife. Rather, this gives an impetus, a shot in the arm, to our commitment to justice and goodness as our standard way of living in this present life—despite the seeming evident prosperity of the contrary.

So, when we are faced with such an existential question as the seeming unfairness of life, or when we, in our goodness and our own witness of the gospel values, experience misfortunes, we need to be courageous and steadfast in our faith. We need to hold on. Not giving up. Not losing heart. Continue to work for goodness making this world a better place to live in as we also pray each day to the Lord of history, “May your Kingdom come” that justice and goodness may finally flourish.

Do I have the steadfastness of faith to see me through life’s tribulations and to trust in God’s promise of the ultimate victory of the just?

* * *

If you do good people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.
People really need help but may attack if you help them.
Help people anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you might get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

                                                                        -Dr. Kent M. Keith         

What's Left When You Give? (32nd Sunday Ordinary B)

On these times of calamities, we have more opportunities to witness the outpouring of solidarity by the amount of pledges and donations coming from all the ends of the earth to aid the communities victimized by disasters. Donations to the tune of millions of pesos and dollars simply awe and relieve us all at the same time.

We easily measure generosity by how much we are awed by the amount or volume of what is given. We readily express our deepest and sincerest gratitude to people who share a large portion of their fortune to charitable projects or to relief and rehabilitation programs.

However, it seems to me the gospel proposes another way, a radical one, of measuring generosity. It is not by the awesome amount of what is given but by the meagerness of what is left of the giver. True generosity is measured by the willingness of the giver to share even that which he/she needs. A truly generous person is one who gives even if little or nothing is left for him/her. The widow in today’s gospel (Mk 12: 38-44) for instance, by putting in two small coins, gives more than all the other contributors to the temple treasury. Jesus explains: “For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood” (v. 44). Jesus had given in this manner too. His was a total self-giving. Nothing was left when he gave his life, not even his seamless tunic!

Generosity, again, is truly measured by what is left when one gives.

When one gives a million pesos to the needy, for after all he has more millions in the bank, he has simply shared from his surplus. Or maybe even just succeeded in legally pulling off tax avoidance. For St. Basil, one of the influential Fathers of the Church, this scenario is not yet generosity. This is yet a fulfillment of an obligation, a rightful response to the demand of justice. St. Basil once wrote: “The bread you keep belongs to the hungry; that coat which you preserve in your wardrobe, to the naked; those shoes which are rotting in your possessions, to the shoeless; that gold which you have hidden in the ground to the needy.” So, to give them is to return them to the rightful owner—the needy. When the wealthy give out of their surplus, it may just be a fulfillment of justice. It is not yet charity, nor generosity. True generosity, more than a demand of justice, is an act of love. It is giving out of what is truly your share, i.e., out of what you yourself need.

In all these, it is much easier to understand Jesus’ teaching on the blessedness of the poor.  The poor is always in such occasions as to give from his needs for he has nothing to spare almost all the time. Hence, the poor has the facility to be truly generous. Almost always when he gives, he puts in his needed share; oftentimes, even his very self. This is hard for the wealthy, for he still has to come to terms with justice first.  

This illustration might help: In a particular parish, a wealthy politician somehow felt like being ‘generous.’ He donated 5,000 pesos to the catechetical program. When announced for acknowledgment, a great applause was heard. A beaming parish priest was seen in the altar very satisfied. Honorable Congressman is very generous. But not known to everyone , a poor mother of six, in a far-flung barrio, leaves her home each day to go to the public school and spend her needed time catechizing children while at the same time worrying at the back of her mind what to bring home later to feed her family. All these she does as a volunteer. But her self-giving remains unnoticed for it seems that her contribution is insignificant. Hence, there’s no thundering applause for her.

In the light of today’s gospel that volunteer catechist has put in so much more than what the politician has given even if, let us say by heaven’s grace, he donates on a monthly basis!

This is not to discourage the rich from giving. This is to challenge the haves to take seriously their obligation to the have-nots without bragging about it, for there is really nothing to boast about.  But more to the point, this is about empowering the ‘insignificant’ to believe in what they can still put in. The little contribution they offer is actually an act of true generosity. Whatever the poor gives, it is significant! The 25 centavos donation of the poor to the ‘Pundo ng Pinoy’ is significant. (In fact, the fund is now feeding thousands of otherwise malnourished children all over the country!) The labor counterpart of the poor in building houses through the ‘Gawad Kalinga’ program is tremendously significant! The tithes or pledges and the active presence of the poor in the church significantly strengthen the spirit of the BECs. The two small coins of the widow, as Jesus pointed out, are significant.

Do I give little out of my abundance? Or do I give abundantly out of the little I have? What is left when I give?  

To Love After God’s Own Heart (31st Sunday Ordinary B)

The words of St. Teresa of Calcutta have always been very simple. But I find them powerful and radical because they are coming from a true witness of the gospel of love. I would always imagine that generous donors from all over the world come to see her ministering to the poorest of the poor and some would cringe at the sight of her touching and taking care of the lepers and would probably remark, “Eww, I wouldn’t do that even for a thousand pounds!” And Mother Teresa would just smile and, without moralizing, would agree with the rich donor as she would say, “Neither would I.” Then her often quoted words come alive and kick me off my growing complacency as I listen to her once more:  “I try to give to the poor people for love what the rich could get for money. No, I wouldn't touch a leper for a thousand pounds; yet I willingly cure him for the love of God.”

Caring for the unlovable not for any amount of money but for the love of God!  Mother Teresa’s life and words are concrete incarnation of the radical call to love—loving God and loving our neighbour as two distinct but interrelated acts of loving. And it’s true, no one can love the unlovable except when one has a heart that loves God and loves like God.

Today’s gospel (Mk 12: 28-34) reminds us of the two greatest commandments.  As an answer to the scribes’ question regarding the most important commandment, Jesus replies: “This is the first: ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! Therefore you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.’  This is the second, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

These two are the greatest commandments and therefore ought to be our most fundamental calling as believers and followers of Christ.  Mother Teresa’s life had the power to touch the whole world, believers and non-believers alike, only because she lived by the words of Christ. She took on the demands of love and gave all her life loving God by loving the poorest. Let us then reflect on these two interrelated demands of love as our own calling too.

Love of God.  Jesus reaffirms the words of Moses in our first reading (Dt 6: 2-6) as the most important of all commandments.  To love God, the Lord, is to love him with our entire being: with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength.  There’s no room here for partial loving. The demand is total.  We ought to love God with everything that we have and are! This means that God has to be the center of our life. It is God whom we ought to seek in life and serve.  His will and his commandments ought to be the principles by which we live.  In the words of Moses, when we keep God’s statutes, we’re going to “have long life;” “we grow and prosper all the more” in the promised “land flowing with milk and honey.”  Loving God with our entire being brings life and abundance. When we have God, we shall not be in want.

Our problem is always our divided and confused heart. We often find ourselves desiring and seeking first what the world promise to give.  We can live and die for money, fame, power, etc. But we don’t see ourselves dying for God. Worse, we treat God, maybe unwittingly, only as a means (in our prayers and petitions for instance) to attain these created things thinking they give meaning to life.  Moreover, many times our heart goes for ourselves. We love ourselves more than we love God. We follow our own design and ignore God’s especially when the two collide.  No wonder, our pursuit for a meaningful life implies endless seeking for material gains and maintenance or increase of our personal glory and power. This idolatrous love for things and self only leads to unspeakable social injustices, violence, and un-peace as can be observed in the realities in our midst right now as we speak.

Again, as followers of Christ, let us take Christ’s words seriously.  To save humanity and the world from self-destruction, we ought to check our priorities and the focus of our love. God has to be our first and highest value and the center of our lives, individual and social. We have to love God above all else and seek first his reign and everything will fall in place.

Love of Neighbour.  A necessary implication of our commitment to love God is to love our neighbour as ourselves.  Again, these two commandments have the book of Moses as their origin. But the Mosaic Law presents them separately and no stress on their interrelationship is made.  Jesus has placed them together and hence, offers a new Christian perspective to loving. In the words of John Paul II: “One cannot love God if one does not love one’s brethren, creating a deep and lasting communion of love with them.”  Christianity will always see these two loves as two sides of the same coin. We cannot have one and ignore the other.

A person who truly loves God also learns to love like God.  Hence, we love not only those who are close to us and those within our circle of friends. Like God who loves and provides for the needs of all without distinction, we are also called to love without distinction.  The neighbour then includes strangers and even enemies as Jesus instructs in another part of the gospel.  Mother Teresa committed her life caring for the unlovable in society—the poorest of the poor, the lepers, the AIDS victims, the abandoned.

Left on our own, we choose whom we love and care for.  We go for those who possess the three Bs: beauty, brain and bank.  We naturally love those who fulfil our fantasies, feed our needs, and make our lives comfortable. “Surround yourself with great people” is our accepted maxim for a successful life. We would shun those who represent the needy in society as we would like to have nothing to do with “liabilities.” Well, we think this way because we have not yet lived according to the commandment of love.

Hence, today we are reminded of our great vocation as followers of Christ-- the vocation to love.  We can make a difference in this world (and Christians are meant to make a difference!) as Mother Teresa has when we take to heart the greatest commandments and live by them.  We need to make God the center of our lives by loving Him with everything that we have and are and learn to care not only for ourselves but also for our neighbours, loving them after God’s own heart.