Winning Over A Brother (23rd Sunday Ordinary A)



In 1983, just two days after Christmas, Pope John Paul II visited his would-be assassin in prison and spoke privately with him for about twenty minutes.  The Pontiff later declined to mention what was discussed, and said, "What we talked about will have to remain a secret between him and me.  I spoke to him as a brother whom I have pardoned and who has my complete trust."
(Image and caption from polishgreatness.blogspot.com)

How do we actually respond to situations when a brother or a sister or a member of a community goes wayward or does something that offends us?



One approach that many of us easily subscribe to is the mind-your-own-business approach.  We have allowed the spirit of laissez faire to expand its influence from politico-economic sphere to our personal and social life.  We don’t want to have anything to do with whatever smacks of “meddling” with another’s life.  “Walang pakialaman pare!”  We have grown to become individualists imbued with a misleading philosophy of freedom synonymous to licentiousness. “Bahala siya sa buhay nya. Diskarte nya yan!”  In the same token, somehow deep within us we also wish to be left alone with our own business.  So, we build sturdy and high walls around our homes and strong divisions within, perhaps, in order to let one another just be.

Another favourite approach is the seemingly concerned non-confrontational tell-the-neighbours approach. In short and in my dialect, the libak approach.  Not a single soul in the whole barangay remains uninformed regarding the hottest issue except the person concerned.  Is this because of the daunting task inherent in the duty to correct the wrong doer? Or is it the passive-aggressive psychological make-up we all seem to grow up with given our authoritarian family dynamics? Or perhaps the highly valued cultural Smooth Interpersonal Relationship (SIR)?  Whatever underlies the town’s favourite gossip approach one thing is sure: It does not help.

This Sunday readings offer us a helpful approach.  May I call it the my-brother’s-keeper approach?  This one is imbued with the spirit of love and care clearly espoused by the second reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans (13: 8-10). “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law” (v. 8).  Paul’s reminder is the underlying motive of my-brother’s-keeper approach.  Love, and not the cold spirit of laissez faire or the burning passion for gossip, should be the inspiration behind our effort to win over an errant family or community member.  We always have to be aware that our Christian communities are communities of the loving Covenant between God and his people. We are the communities of the Kingdom of God.  The bond that ties us together is not any social ideology or a common psychological idiosyncrasy but love.

In such a communitarian context, each is endowed with a prophetic vocation to remind, to warn, to reprimand a member whenever he or she turns away from the spirit of the covenant and the values of God’s Kingdom.   The prophet Ezekiel, in the first reading (Ez. 33:7-9), is given this responsibility to “dissuade the wicked man from his way.”  Failure to act on this responsibility holds the prophet liable to the evil that befalls the man in question.  “If... you do not speak out to dissuade the wicked man from his way, he shall die for his guilt, but I will hold you responsible for his death” (v. 8).  This reminds all of us of our social responsibility to take care of one another by reprimanding or gently reminding each one whenever we are in error or in sin.

In the community of God’s Kingdom, it is not very responsible to say “Walang pakialaman pare!” nor it is with love and concern that we say “Bahala siya sa buhay niya.”  As children of God, we are always our brother’s keeper. We should constantly act out of love by reaching out to a community member who has gone wayward.

The gospel today (Mt. 18:15-20) prescribes some helpful steps to a genuine process of fraternal correction.  Again, in each step, the objective is to win your brother over (v. 15). This is real concern and love. And how lovely it is to live in such a community!

The first step is person to person confrontation.  Confrontation is not a very good word. I think a better expression is heart-to-heart talk!  I am convinced that if this is done with love and care there’s no need for another step.  Most will end up shaking hands or even embracing each other with a resolve to become better friends, better lovers.

Should there be a need for another step anyhow, Jesus instructs us to move to the second step:  To win over the brother or sister in the presence of two or three other witnesses.  Sometimes, one may be wrong about the accusation against another.  The presence of other witnesses establishes objectivity and certainty about the moral issue and strengthens the invitation for the erring party to consider reconciliation.

Should that fail too, the conflict has to be brought to the attention now of the community of the Church as the third step. In this level, failure on the part of the erring party to listen and to be humble enough to amend his ways may invoke the right of the Church to expel such an obstinate unloving member from the community. But even here, to treat such a member as a gentile or a tax collector, as the gospel instructs, is to leave an open door, an open invitation for an eventual conversion of heart.  Such is the magnanimity of Christian charity!

Again, what a lovely community we are called to be.  Is there someone in particular you ought to reach out to in the spirit of fraternal correction? Go, go, go! Win that brother or sister over.

A Million Dollar Question (21st Sunday Ordinary A)

The great Fr. Juan Sanz, who was a very patient spiritual director to me and was many other things to countless other people when he was alive, would remind me again and again of a basic Ignatian principle.  “If you were to serve God joyfully, you’ve gotta love Him most dearly. Okay? But if you were to love God dearly, you’ve gotta know Him first intimately.  Clear?”  This is the simplest and maybe the clearest way of explaining what St. Ignatius believed as the purpose of man’s life:  To know, to serve, and to love God. In this triadic calling, one element is foundational to the other; of all three, the most basic is to know God.

Do you know God intimately?

Today’s gospel reading (Mt. 16: 13-20) recounts a very significant moment in the life of Jesus’ disciples especially Peter and in the life of what was to become the Church.  In this gospel episode that transpired in the region of Caesaria Philippi, Jesus fires the million dollar question:  Who do you say I am? Maybe we can paraphrase this with “Do you really know me?”

But first, Jesus asks the disciples the easier question, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?”  The disciples are very quick to answer, most probably even in chorus trying to be the first to reply, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets” (v. 14).

It’s quite easy for the disciples to report to Jesus how people perceive him.  But Jesus’ real concern is not the opinion of other people.  If his disciples were to be the foundation of his Church, it is of utmost importance that they know him intimately and personally.  So Jesus fires the million dollar question.

“But who do YOU say that I am?”  This time no one answers... except the great Simon Peter. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”   Correct!  Jesus affirms Peter by assuring him that it is God the Father who reveals this truth to him for no “flesh and blood” (which means human power) can do it. On the basis of Peter’s profession, Jesus calls him “Peter,” the rock, who, right there and then, is designated as the foundation of the Church: “...and upon this rock I will build my church” (v. 18).

Peter’s intimate knowledge of Jesus is the very foundation of loving and serving God all throughout the centuries as the Church headed by Peter and his successors do what she is sent to do.

Again we can never overemphasize this crucial fact:  To know God intimately is of utmost significance to our relationship with God be it on the level of personal and individual or of collective and ecclesial.

Today, we may do well to allow the scripture to confront us too. “Who do you say I am?” What is our response to this? We probably notice that, as in the case of Jesus’ disciples, it is easier for us to describe God according to what we have heard, read, and seen from external sources.  We have plenty of opinions about God. Opinions from our parents, catechists, preachers, pastors, retreat directors, etc.  It would be a real tragedy in our spiritual and ecclesial life if for long we have been maintaining a relationship to an opinion of God.  God is not an opinion. God is not an important piece of information, a fact that our head considers.  God is not even a doctrine that we debate about or wish to memorize in an orthodox formula.

God is someone who loves us personally. God is someone who reveals himself to us inviting us to love him in return. To know this God is to encounter him in our life. Knowing him means experiencing him in quite a personal way.  For God, this is what matters and not so much our ideas and concepts about him. 

Again, the million dollar question: Who do you say I am? Like Peter, are we ready to give an answer to this yet?

Fr. Sanz taught me a secret:  “If you wish to know God intimately, ask for the grace.”  We can only know God as He allows it. We can only experience God as He reveals himself. No amount of unaided human insight can truly realize whom we are dealing with.  Peter knew who Jesus was because the Father revealed to him. The other disciples listened to the voices around them; hence, got the opinions of other people about Jesus.  Peter, however, listened to the voice inside him—the voice of God who reveals.

God is constantly communicating with us. He is a God who relates. In Trinitarian theology, some theologians propose that “relations” is an ontological property of God, meaning, God’s very being is relationship.  And indeed, the scripture reveals that God is love. Love cannot be in isolation. Hence, we can correctly assume that God constantly relates with us.  The only venue for such relationship to be meaningful is our human experience.  Therefore, to know God is to encounter him in our daily experiences.  Do we have time to examine where God is working in our life?  Do we find deeper meaning in our otherwise ordinary routine in life? Do we encounter God in what we do in life? What kind of a God does my life reveal to me? 

Again, the million dollar question: Who do you say I am?

Lord, give me the grace to know you intimately and personally so that, in knowing you, I can love you most dearly, and in loving you, I can serve you joyfully.

The God of Silence (19th Sunday Ordinary A)

God was not in the stormy wind rending the mountains and crushing the rocks, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire.  Elijah encountered God in the “sound of silence”—in the tiny whispering sound (1 Kgs 19: 9-13).

God’s presence in the ordinary day-to-day events. Almost always greatness is demonstrated by grandiosity—like the astounding display of a multi-million-peso worth of fireworks, the construction of a huge and dominating elaborate edifice, the preparation of an unparalleled hero’s welcome, etc.  Going by this line of thinking, we easily expect God to work in mind-boggling, nature-defying miracles or to reveal God’s self in awesome, jaw-dropping theophanies.  All because God is God; and God is great!

God can do this of course.  But God does communicate with us, more often than we ever notice, in a commonplace fashion, in a non-obtrusive way, in a tiny whispering sound as in the case of Elijah.  The problem is, most of us do not have the slightest suspicion that God in is the ordinary and everyday routine of our lives.  Furthermore, when God is silent, we easily take it to mean that God does not care at all.

God’s presence in the storms of life. In today’s gospel (Mt. 14:22-33), Peter and the other disciples encountered Jesus as a reassuring and calm presence amid the waves that tossed about their boat. “It is I; do not be afraid,” was the assurance of Jesus to his terrified disciples.

Today’s readings assure us of the abiding presence of God whether in our most trying moments or in the humdrum of our daily responsibilities. God is always with us.  God is maybe silent but not absent for sure.

Do I have faith in the God of silence?

Where is God when my only son committed suicide? Where is God when our livelihood and properties were all washed away by flood?  Where is God in my moments of unbearable pain wrought by this vicious cancer?  Where is God when my daughter, our only hope to rise from this miserable life, had an unwanted pregnancy? These can go on and on as an endless litany of other excruciating cries that betray our lack of trust in God whose silence we don’t understand.

Where is God during the storms of our lives?

We see the storm quite clearly as we tremble in fear; but we fail to notice the hand of God reaching out to us.  Just like Peter, when he got out of the boat and started walking on the water toward Jesus, he was distracted by the strong wind.  He allowed his fears to creep in and lost his focus on Jesus.  There and then, he started to sink (vv.  30).

This is true with our lives.  We focus on the storms too much.  God is left unnoticed.   We walk through life with so much burden and pain, insecurities and fears while all along God silently accompanies us, always reaching out his saving hand.  And we don’t notice it, perhaps, until we sink into the pit of despair and start to panic for dear life.

Our invitation is to see the saving hand of God in any storm of life. Like Peter, we need to fix our eyes on God and ask for God’s saving hand. What storm has been buffeting my life?  Do I have faith in the silent but reassuring presence of God seeing me through these difficult times?

May the readings today, make known to us the God of silence—the God whose presence is as unobtrusive as a faint sound of a whisper.  It is God’s silence that tests the sensitivity of faith on our part when we face the turmoil of our storms in life. God is with us either in the ordinary daily grind or in the most trying events of our lives. May this truth build our confidence in facing any storm in life. The Lord is just right there in the middle of the storm reaching out his hand to save us. “It is I. Do not be afraid.”

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.

God is Good (16th Sunday Ordinary A)

In the 2014 American fantasy film Maleficent, is the character of Maleficent evil or good?

Some film critics have warned parents of the offensive moral message of the movie. They see in it a subtle drive to present evil, personified by the character Maleficent, as loveable after all. Hence confusing the minds of the young about the nature of evil and influencing them to accept or at least tolerate whatever is evil in life.

I do not share the same view. On the contrary, I see in the movie and, in particular, in the character of Maleficent, the celebration of faith in the fundamental goodness of every being. We all experience the ambiguity that characterizes our earthly existence; there’s good and evil around us and within us. I think the film has shown that we can all be surprised by the capacity of our hearts to overcome what’s evil in us and around us by listening to our deepest invitation to love which is but the natural inclination of our hearts. True love and, hence, goodness is the fundamental calling of every being amid painful experiences of betrayal and the aching hunger for revenge. Goodness triumphs as we make a choice to be true to our calling.

The parable of the Weeds and the Wheat in today’s gospel reading (Mt. 13: 24-43) is of similar theme: The reality of the existence of both good and evil in the world and within us. Allow me to highlight three invitations presented to us by the parable for our reflection this Sunday.

Do not judge others.  In Jesus’ time, the Pharisees (which means “the separated ones”) dreamed of Israel as a society of “pure” believers. So they tended to separate themselves from the sinners; hence, creating an exclusive circle of righteous and respectable men. They excluded those whom they judged as sinners many of whom are the poor. The parable of the Weed and the Wheat is presumably addressed to them to caution them against their judgmental attitude. In the parable, the Sower, who represents the Son of Man, refuses to uproot the weeds as doing so may also result in uprooting the wheat. He suggests allowing them to grow together until harvest. Then it will be clearer which are the weeds and the wheat for judgment.

The parable invites us too to refrain from judging others.  Of course, externally we can morally evaluate an act as either good or bad but we can in no way ascertain the spiritual and moral state of a person who is acting. We cannot label a person as sinner and exclude him in our Christian community. After all who among us has not sinned? 

Pope Francis invites the Church to be like a “mother with an open heart.” The church should be the house of the Father with the door always wide open. The Church is the community of both saints and sinners. God searches the sinners and brings to his house the outcasts. He draws them to his goodness and invites them to be good. Let God be the judge, not us.

Choose always the good.  In our earthly journey towards the fulfillment of the Kingdom of God we experience in a very real way the ambiguity that characterizes our existence. Just as the weeds grow together with the wheat in the field, we experience both the presence of evil and good, sin and grace, curse and blessing in our world and in our hearts.

When it comes to our conscience, we are always led towards the good. We are fundamentally inclined towards the good as we are created good. We struggle with our evil inclination because of the presence of sin that has distorted our nature. Hence, it has not become always easy to decide for what is good.  But we are wired to choose what is good. When we allow the grace of God to work in us, we become more empowered to turn our back to what is evil and embrace what is good. Even Maleficent is surprised that she possesses the power of true love.

There will always be ambiguity in our hearts as we journey in this earthly life, but we have been enabled by the grace of Christ to embrace goodness as our fundamental option. We may falter from time to time in this journey because we remain sinful, but our hearts beat for God.  Let us allow our hearts to seek the Lord and to choose what is good amid the ambiguities of our human existence. Our daily decisions and choices chart our fundamental orientation. Let it be towards the good, towards God.

Trust in the Goodness of God. God is good. The parable reveals that the sower planted only the good seed, the wheat.  He is not responsible for the weeds. The enemy sowed them. We experience in life the suffering wrought by sin. There are many forms of this suffering. Sometimes they befall us and we get confused. We begin to question the goodness of God. Does God care?

Yes. He does care. He loves us. God is good. He did not spare even his Son in order to save us from the suffering and death wrought by sin. We need to trust in the goodness of God.

I was once in a conference in Manila when I received a text message from a certain mother back in Zamboanga requesting me to visit her child who was confined in a hospital and who was in danger of death because of dengue.  I would have easily referred her to another priest since I could not attend to her request; but something deep inside me prodded me to ask the name of the child. The mother texted me her name and I assured her of my prayers for her child and comforted her. Then in the corner of the vast conference hall where I was seated, I prayed ardently for the healing power of the Holy Spirit to strengthen the child. After entrusting to the Lord the concern of the family, I continued with my active participation in the activities of the conference throughout the day.

The following morning, I was seated again for the conference. I received a text message from the mother of the child saying: “Thank you for your prayers, Father. God is good. My daughter is well now!” I felt a sudden surge of gladness in my heart because of the good news. Teary-eyed I texted her back: “Let us praise God for He is good!”

Again, weeds and wheat grow together. In our earthly journey, let us not judge one another; judgment is God’s task not ours. But let us help one another to embrace what is good and to make goodness our fundamental orientation. This we can certainly do for we have a God who is good. Let us trust in his goodness.

Receptive Hearts (15th Sunday Ordinary A)

Not every single instance I stood on the pulpit that I was sure and confident about my preaching. There were moments when I felt lousy and seemed unable to connect to people.  On one particular Sunday at the Cathedral of Ipil, I was secretly ashamed of my homily because I felt I did not strike a chord with the congregation. I felt lousy. But the next morning, someone I knew who was usually shy and timid and did not care about having conversation with people approached me. This time she was smiling and she thanked me simply. For what? She told me something I said in the homily yesterday moved her quite deeply! I just nodded and smiled hesitantly; but somehow I sensed her sincerity.

This reminded me that preaching the Word of God is really not about me or my antics. Some effective skills and tricks in public speaking do help of course. But when all is said and done, it is the Word of God that penetrates any receptive heart. Even with my lousiest homily, God’s Word filled a hungry and longing heart.  For as the first reading asserts: “Thus says the Lord: Just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth… so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me void…” (Is. 55:10-11).

The work of evangelization is indeed a lot like sowing seeds on the ground. As the Gospel reading illustrates (Mt. 13:1-9), when the sower went out to sow, some seed fell on the path, some on rocky ground; still some among thorns, but some fell on rich soil and produced much fruit.  The seed is the Word of God. When we evangelize, we sow God’s Word in the hearts of all without discrimination. Not all, of course, are interested. Some are preoccupied with other things. Some have their hearts and minds closed by philosophies and ideologies critical of God and of religions. Some are having doubts. But among all these, there will always be receptive hearts. These are hearts who long for the Word of God, hearts who have been prepared by the grace of God. It is in these hearts that the Word takes root, grows, blossoms and bears much fruit.

I think there are two things here worth our consideration:  Becoming sowers of God’s Word and cultivating the rich soil of our receptive hearts.

Becoming Sowers. The Gospel today invites all of us to become sowers of the Word of God. Evangelization is the mission of the Church. It is our mission. Clergy and laity alike. We are commissioned to proclaim the Good News to the ends of the earth.  Pope Francis’ apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium, invites all members of the Church to embark on this evangelizing mission.  We are to proclaim the Good News to all peoples. And we are to do this with joy and enthusiasm (EG, 10).

We have to become confident sowers. By this, I do not mean we need to become biblical experts before we plant the seed of God’s Word. We just need to trust and acknowledge the truth that even in the world today, there are receptive hearts, hearts that long for true joy.  They are searching with hope, sometimes with anguish (as Pope Francis noted).  This fertile soil awaits the seed of God’s Word. And more importantly, we just need to accept with humility that it is the grace of God that helps hearts to allow the Word that is sown to blossom and bear surprising abundant fruits. 

Our invitation as sowers seems to be of trust then. Just sow the seed of God’s Word and trust that some will fall on fertile soil. Sow the seed at home, for instance. My mother bought two volumes of illustrated Bible long ago. I guess without her being aware, I had read all of them already even before I finished grade school. And there’s no way of accounting now the abundant fruits. Hundredfold perhaps? Sow the seed at school. Once in a sharing among priests, many recounted how their pre-school teacher or the catechist made them memorize the passages, “For God so loved the world….” and “The Lord is my shepherd…”  The fruits again are immeasurable.  Sow the seed of God’s Word in your offices, in the market places, wherever you are and in whatever capacity you have.  The fruit, you will see, is always beyond you. Hundredfold? Sixty or thirtyfold?

Cultivating our Receptive Hearts.  God’s Word, like seed, grows and blossoms only in a fertile soil, the soil of our receptive hearts. With God’s grace, we ought then to cultivate a heart that longs to embrace His word and allow it to blossom. Here’s a simple way anybody can try out:

Stop. Look. Listen.  Stop means having some time to be still, to cease from doing whatever is that which preoccupies much your mind and heart. This is time out from work and other concerns. This is time to be with the Lord. Look is reviewing our day, noticing what’s happening in our life and where God has touched us. Listen is allowing God’s word to enter our minds and hearts as we read the Bible. The daily liturgical reading is a big help. What is the Lord telling us as we read or listen to God’s word?

Pray. This is personal conversation with the Lord, asking for enlightenment and inspiration particularly about His message. We can freely talk to God about what we think and how we feel as we embrace his Word. We ought to beg for His grace to strengthen our commitment to do his will.

Act. Do what you have been inspired to do as revealed in your time with the Lord. Is it to forgive? Or kick a bad habit? To be kind? Or stop an unhealthy affair? To help someone in need? To share the Good News? To spend more quality time with loved ones? Whatever that is, trust that it is bound to produce much fruit.

To end, another confession:  The reason I mustered my courage to share my Sunday reflections through this blog is that someone in a lonely working place away from the family and in a foreign land where even reading the Bible is taboo told me how she looks forward to read the Sunday reflections.  A longing heart!  I may not offer the best of reflections but I’m confident anyway that this whole thing is not about me, this is about God’s word reaching out to the longing of receptive hearts.  

Let us be sowers of God’s Word. There are just as many ways to sow as there are receptive hearts longing for God’s Word.

The Gentle God (14th Sunday Ordinary A)

For many of us, it is a matter of course to believe in a powerful God.  We easily associate God with power. After all, the first assertion of our Christian faith is the belief in God, the Father Almighty. So, chances are your own image of God is one who can do just anything you can imagine with just a single snap of his fingers or perhaps, like how Harry Potter does it, with a simple wiggle of his magic wand.  He is a God who can make all his wishes come true no matter what, because if he cannot then he is not God.  This is how our human logic goes. We understand God’s power as his ability to bring just anything into existence. He has a say, therefore, on everything and exercises control over anything.  Hence, an awesome God... one in whose presence we tremble for in his hands rest the very existence of just everything under the sun.

God's power revealed in meekness. But wait a minute. Today’s readings offer us a glimpse of a quite different side of God.  A gentle and humble God.  The first reading for instance (Zec. 9:9-10) foretells the coming of the king as a just savior, meek and riding on an ass rather than on a majestic chariot.  This foreshadows the entrance of Christ to the city of Jerusalem.  He comes on an ass. Not majestic but humble. He brings not war but peace. Furthermore, the Gospel reading (Mt. 11:25-30) reveals the Lord as one who invites those who are tired to come to him for refreshment, for he is “gentle and humble of heart.” 

Can power, on the one hand, and gentleness and humility, on the other, come together?  It appears difficult but yes.  We find the juxtaposition difficult because we easily associate power with ability to dominate and control, with force, with authority, with the ability to make things happen despite all forms of resistance. Here power becomes imposing and far from being gentle.

The real power though, I submit, is not imposition or coercion. It is persuasion.  God’s power is persuasive. He invites. He presents what is good; manifests what is beautiful and true; offers what we can embrace as values. In other words, He attracts. Unlike the coercive power which works from outside by imposing its will, the persuasive power works from within and gently achieves cooperation.  Such is the power of God—the Gentle God. Another term for this persuasive power of God is love.

The Gentle God invites the weary to carry the yoke of love. “Come to me, all you who are weary and find life burdensome, and I will refresh you. Take my yoke upon your shoulders and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart” (Mt. 11: 28-29).

Here is a God who invites. He invites not the high and mighty but the weary and those burdened by life.  To them he offers refreshment and rest.  He assures them of his heart which is gentle and humble. But we have to take note that he does not dispense of the yoke to be carried: “Take my yoke upon your shoulders.”  Coming to him for rest does not mean a responsibility-free life.  To have rest in Christ does not mean doing nothing in life.  It means carrying the yoke of Jesus, which is the yoke of love.

The gentle God offers a gentle yoke—the yoke of love as alternative to the imposing yoke of law. The yoke of law renders the people tired and unappreciative of life.  The people of Israel, for instance, had been bombarded with endless laws prescribed by the scribes.  Their lives had been all about fulfilling every letter of the law. The yoke of law became the be-all and end-all of their existence so that they gradually forgot about the loving relationship with God.  The ‘little ones,’ the poor especially, could not measure up to the demands of the law, so they were the ones who found life burdensome.  Life for them was an experience of imposition and coercion that led to their alienation.

Jesus reached out to them by offering his yoke. “My yoke is easy, my burden light.” This is the yoke of love offered by the gentle God. This yoke is inspiring and liberating because it works from within. Jesus’ message then is this:  Learn from me. Carry your responsibilities not because they are imposed upon you.  Carry them not because you are obliged by law. Follow me and carry your responsibilities because of love.  

Our response: Living each day with love in our hearts. All of us who have loved will agree by experience that anything we do out of love, however difficult and demanding, becomes easy and light.  The power of love works from within. It inspires and liberates. Life becomes worthwhile, enjoyable, easy, and peaceful when we put upon our shoulders the yoke of Jesus, the yoke of love.

Do we find life burdensome? Perhaps it would help if we examine what we do. We might have been spending our energies and time to things that are imposed upon us. We need to have a change of paradigm.  Let us approach Jesus and learn from him. Let us live each day with love in our hearts and let everything we do flow from that persuasive power of love.

Or do we find ourselves wielding power vested upon us by our status or position in society? Jesus offers himself as a model.  He invites us to come to him and learn from his gentleness and humility. To be powerful does not always mean being coercive and imposing. Again, change of paradigm—real power works not from outside but from within. It is the persuasion of love we need to exercise. It is the way of the gentle God.

  

Do Not Fear (12th Sunday Ordinary A)

The ancient philosopher, Plato, has pointed out the tragedy of being afraid: “We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”

Who are afraid of the light?

Those who have something to hide shun the light for fear of being exposed; so, they rather thrive in the dark. But those who are called to speak in the light may also be afraid of it as it may lead to their persecution. So they keep quiet. This, indeed, is tragic. And we can all easily fall into this same tragedy if we allow our fears to paralyze us.

“Do not fear.” This is the reminder of today’s gospel reading (Mt 10:26-33). “So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops” (vv. 26-27).

The Lord’s instruction to his disciples is clear: Speak in the light! Proclaim from the housetops!  Simply 'whispering' the gospel among them is not enough.  It may safeguard them from threat and antagonism of this world but it is tantamount to 'disowning' the Lord Jesus in the presence of people; and this cowardly act will cause the Lord to disown the same followers in the presence of the Father.

So the disciples are called to face courageously the realities of evil in the world and the fate that awaits those who brave to confront them with the values of the Gospel. But from where do we draw the courage with which we confront the evils of this world and their vicious reprisal?

The readings for today offer us three ways to conquer our fears:  a) Entrusting our cause to God our mighty champion; b) Having faith in the grace of Christ to triumph over sin; c) Invoking God’s protection and care.

Entrusting our cause to God.  In the first reading (Jer 20:10-13), the prophet Jeremiah expresses his awareness of the plot to denounce and entrap him precisely because of his vocation as a prophet and the message of woe that he delivers to his fellow citizens. But even in the face of this hostility and threat coming from every side, he remains unafraid as he confidently claims the Lord to be in his side like a “mighty champion” who will foil his persecutors.  Jeremiah has no fear because he has “entrusted his cause” to God who will vindicate him in the end—“O Lord of hosts …let me witness the vengeance you take on them, for to you I have entrusted my cause” (v. 12).

When we confront the ills of our society with the light of the gospel, we also have to prepare for our fate as a persecuted prophet.  But we should not fear for our cause is God’s cause. Like the prophet Jeremiah, we shall realize that the Lord is on our side; and as a mighty champion, He will put to utter shame those who plot against us.

 Are you afraid to “speak in the light?” Don’t be. Entrust your cause to God for He is on your side.

The grace of Christ triumphs over sin.  In the second reading (Romans 5:12-15), we can discern an appropriate background to our calling to confront the evil of this world. St. Paul acknowledges the universal spread of evil throughout the world in the past and we see its bearing in the present sinful situation in our world.  But we ought not to fear as we confront sin because while we have inherited this condition of sinfulness, we have also received a gift that far surpasses it—the grace of God and the gracious gift of the one man Jesus Christ overflowing for all of us.

This overflowing grace of Christ is our source of courage. We need not be afraid when we put our faith in Jesus Christ.  When we speak against the power of sin around and within us, only this overflowing grace of Christ guarantees victory for it is a gift more powerful than any of the earthly threats we may fear.

Invoking God’s protection and care. The gospel reading has a refrain: “Do not be afraid.”  Jesus encourages his disciples not to fear anyone, any human persecutor, who can kill the body, because the whole of their physical existence is held within the protection of God’s hands. Jesus reminds them that they are precious in the eyes of God who manifests love even to the lowly sparrows: “Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge… So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows” (Mt 10:29-31).

God values all his creatures;  He is our loving Father and we, His children, can always rest in the truth that He loves us dearly and protects us from those who plot against us.  We, who stand firm and proclaim the gospel in the light and “from the housetops,” can be confident even in the face of death that our ultimate fate lies in the loving hand of God and that He is our vindication.

Fear no one then… Do not be afraid… speak in the light and proclaim from the housetops! The Lord is our mighty champion who remains on our side against our persecutors; his overflowing grace has overcome the power of sin and eliminated the sting of death; His love and care is our protection and vindication. So do not fear. Have faith in God.

The Church Jesus Desires (11th Sunday Ordinary A)

The Gospel today offers more than a portrait of Jesus; it reveals the Church He desires us to become.

In this passage we see three movements: Jesus sees the crowd, Jesus gathers the Twelve, and Jesus sends them on mission. These three movements describe what the Church today calls a synodal and missionary Church. “Synod” means “walking together,” but walking together is not the destination. We walk together so that, united, we may share in Christ’s mission to the world.

Jesus Sees the Crowd: A Listening Church. The Gospel begins with moving words: “At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them, because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” Here we see that Jesus does not begin with a program or a speech. He begins with attention. He looks, he listens, he allows himself to be affected by the suffering of the people. This is the first mark of a synodal Church: a listening Church. Not a Church that first asks, “What should we tell people?” but one that asks, “What are people carrying in their hearts?”

The recent Synod reminded us that listening is not a strategy, but a spiritual attitude, a way of loving. So many today feel “troubled and abandoned”: those in financial hardship, those wounded in family relationships, those anxious about the future, those drifting from faith. The question is: Do we notice? Or are we so busy and distracted that we pass by without seeing?

Synodal conversion begins in ordinary relationships: spouses listening to each other, parents listening to children and children to aging parents, priests listening to their people, parishioners listening to one another. Who around me may be feeling troubled and abandoned?

Jesus Gathers the Twelve: A Co-Responsible Church. After seeing the crowds, Jesus does something striking: he calls the Twelve. He does not carry the mission alone; he shares it. The harvest is abundant, and he knows that the mission requires a community of disciples. This is another mark of a synodal Church: communion and participation. The Church is not the work of one person—not the priest alone, not the bishop alone, not a few active parishioners. The Holy Spirit gives gifts to all the baptized.

Too often Catholics see themselves mainly as recipients: we attend Mass, receive the sacraments, support the parish, but leave the mission to others. Yet in the Gospel, Jesus first tells the disciples to pray for laborers, and then he makes them those laborers. They become the answer to the prayer they have just offered.

So too with us. We pray for stronger families, more vocations, a renewed parish, a more just society. Could it be that God is inviting us to become part of the answer? In a synodal Church, the question shifts from “What is the parish doing for me?” to “What is the Lord asking me to contribute?” What gift, talent, experience, or time is God calling me to place at the service of others?

Jesus Sends the Twelve: A Missionary Church. Finally, Jesus sends the disciples. This is where everything leads. Listening is not the final goal. Meetings and structures are not the final goal. Even communion itself exists for mission.

A Church that only looks inward eventually loses vitality. A Church that walks together must also go forth together. Pope Francis often reminds us that the Church is missionary by her very nature. We are not gathered merely to preserve ourselves; we are gathered to be sent.

Jesus instructs the apostles: heal the sick, cleanse lepers, drive out demons. In other words, bring life where there is suffering, hope where there is discouragement, mercy where there is sin and brokenness. That mission continues today. The sick still need healing and care. The lonely still need companionship. The poor still need solidarity. The young still need guidance and witnesses. Families still need hope. The Gospel still needs living witnesses, not only words.

The mission field is all around us. Perhaps your mission begins in your home, in your workplace, in your neighborhood, with someone you need to forgive, or with someone waiting for a word of encouragement.

Jesus concludes: “Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.” This is the heart of missionary discipleship. We have received God’s love freely; now we are sent to give it freely.

The Gospel today shows us the Church Jesus dreams of: a Church that listens before speaking, where all share responsibility, and that goes forth together in mission. So we might ask: Am I helping to build a listening Church? Am I taking responsibility for the mission entrusted to me? Am I living as a disciple who is sent?

For in the end, synodality is not a program. It is a way of being Church. It is the way of Jesus himself. May he teach us to walk this path together. 

Jesus, the Way (5th Sunday Easter A)

In the film Blood Diamond, Solomon Vandy, a fisherman, is captured by the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) rebels when they invade their small village. Separated from his family, Solomon is forced to work in the diamond fields.  He becomes a very significant character in the story when he finds a large diamond of rare pink coloring in the RUF diamond fields. He hides it in the field just as the government troops launch an attack. He is captured along with the captain of the rebels and taken to prison. In jail, the Captain, who has seen Solomon hide the precious diamond, rants about the hidden treasure and is overheard by Archer, a diamond smuggler who is in deep trouble. Archer becomes desperate to hunt down the stone for it can mean his redemption.  But he has not the slightest idea where the stone is. There is only one way to find the large hidden diamond: Solomon.  He is the only way. So he arranges for Solomon's release from prison and offers to help him find his family in exchange for the diamond. Then they set out on an arduous overnight trek back to the mining camp. And all along Archer cannot do anything but follow the lead of Solomon for he is the only way to the precious diamond, his redemption.

In the Gospel reading of today (Jn 14:1-12), Jesus is like Solomon who alone knows where the treasure is.  Jesus says to us, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me” (v. 6).  This gospel reading from John is a portion of the Farewell Discourse at the Last Supper. Jesus addresses the concerns of his disciples as He announces to them his departure, that is, his death. But in the liturgical context of the Easter Season, our gospel today, as well as the first and second readings, is an invitation for us to reflect on the eventual 'departure' of Jesus in the 'Ascension' and the future of his disciples as Easter people. What are we to do after his departure?  

Trusting and Following the Way.  The departure of someone very significant to us can be very unsettling. It can leave us insecure and afraid for what is to come. Jesus addresses this anxiety by these reassuring words:  “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” These words are clearly an invitation to trust in God as Jesus indeed continues: “Trust in God still, and trust in me” (v. 1).  Trusting in God means facing the realities of our life as Easter people believing that whatever happens, God will not allow us to crumble and be crushed. Trusting is giving our best and allowing God to take care of the rest.  

We are not to worry a lot too because we know our way to the Father. Jesus has shown us the way. He is the way to the Father because He is in himself the truth, i.e. the revelation of the Father, and the life, i.e. the full knowledge of the Father, and gives the life of the Father to those who come to him.

Our earthly existence is always characterized by a restless search for what is true and meaningful. It is a journey towards the fulfillment of our destiny. In this search for truth and this journey we call life, we need Jesus. Jesus is our way. In the midst of this arduous trek, which is filled with so much difficulties, sufferings, discouragements, and stress, we just have to follow Jesus.  Without Him, we do not have the slightest idea where we are heading to.

In short, we are taught by Jesus what living the Christian life is really all about-- it is living with Jesus in faith. It is to make the Truth and the Life - the Father Himself - really ours by following Jesus who is the Way.

Growing in Identity and Ministry as a People. As the Easter season progresses, our attention is drawn beyond the intimate encounters with the Risen Jesus to the activity and organizational growth of the early Christians. In the first reading (Acts 6:1-7), we see the early Christian community effectively addressing the changing needs of a growing community by expanding its leadership structure adding specialized ministries to that of the Twelve. The community chose seven reputable men filled with wisdom and the Holy Spirit and the Apostles prayed over them for a special Church ministry. The seven chosen ones would 'serve at table' and handle the charitable works especially for the Greek-speaking Jews who were complaining that their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of goods.  Many say this is the beginning of the ministry of the diaconate in the Church.

We see here, therefore, the growth in the way the community in Jerusalem would serve one another while giving priority to the Apostles’ main mission of spreading the Word of God.  Also, we see here the gradual shaping of the spiritual edifice which the second reading from the 1st Letter of Peter 2:4-9 speaks of. Here, Peter depicts our identity as Easter people and encourages us to be aware of our responsibility as 'living stones,' with Christ as cornerstone, to form a 'spiritual building.' The rich images that we hear in this reading present our dignity as “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own” who announces his praises.

It means that through our sacrament of Baptism, like the Israelite people of old, we become a holy nation, a people set apart. We become God’s own people called to proclaim the mighty acts of him who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light.

We are an Easter people. As such, we face the realities and challenges of our personal and communal lives with fundamental trust in God’s victory. We need not allow our hearts to be troubled, for, as an Easter people, we have known the Way to the Father. With the Risen Lord as our companion in our search and journey in life, we will never be lost for He is our way. The trek may be arduous and dark but the Lord leads us by the hand. We only need to cling to him and never ever let go when the journey gets rough and tough.

Besides, we journey as a people, the people of God, or as the spiritual edifice whose cornerstone is Jesus.  How can we ever be lost? With all these assurances of our belonging to Jesus—the Way, the Truth, and the Life—how can our hearts ever be troubled?

With Hearts Burning (3rd Sunday of Easter A)

(image grabbed from https://www.gerhardy.id.au/)

“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the Master calls a butterfly.” This quote from the American writer, Richard Bach, echoes our Easter faith. We look beyond the sorrow, the seeming defeat of the cross of Christ and see the glory, the joy of the victory of Christ’s resurrection. Particularly in this time of great fear and anxiety, loneliness and possible depression all over the world brought about by COVID-19 pandemic, it provides all of us this much needed hope to see what’s going on through the eyes of our Easter faith.

Like the caterpillar, we can be oppressed by our short-sightedness and hence allow the darkness of the present situation to completely envelop us. Our faith in the Risen Lord, however, is the ray of light that cracks through the darkness of our cocoons and help us realize that we are destined to fly with wings of adorable colors.

The account of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus in today’s gospel (Lk 24:13-35) provides us this Easter hope. It recounts to us how these two disciples have been overcome with disappointment and discouragement because of the event of the death of Jesus Christ whom they had hoped to be the Messiah, their deliverance from oppression. With crashed hope, they walk away from Jerusalem finding it hard to believe what has transpired-- even the news of Him rising from the dead. They have given up on their aspirations; and their journey to the village, Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem, speaks volume about their decision to have nothing to do anymore with this failed Messiah. This is their “caterpillar view.” But the Risen Lord does not let them stay in this short-sightedness and hopelessness. The account continues to show how the Risen Lord enlightens them with a short course on the Scriptures and with the breaking of the bread until they finally realize how their hearts are burning within them with new zeal and joy so much so that they have to set out right away back to Jerusalem to tell others that Jesus is risen!

This “Emmaus account” is our Easter assurance that in our moments of darkness and hopelessness we can count on Jesus to walk with us, to stay with us, and to bring us back to our feet running with hearts on fire!

Jesus walks with us. As the two discouraged disciples walk away with heavy hearts, Jesus, the risen Lord, walks with them. Jesus accompanies them through their darkest hours, helping them see some rhyme and reason amid their hopelessness. Jesus points out through the Scriptures how faithful God is to his promise. He shows them how his suffering and seeming defeat on the cross leads to his victory, how his humiliation leads to his glory, how his death leads to everlasting life as promised by God.

Jesus walks with us during our difficult journeys in life. His Easter victory is always our strength and assurance of God’s faithfulness. Many times we cannot fathom the mysteries of life—its pains, sorrows, meaninglessness at times. But the Lord invites us to live by faith. God is good. He is faithful. The resurrection of our Lord is God’s fidelity to his promise. This we can take to the bank.

In moments of discouragement, disappointment, and hopelessness let us allow Jesus to walk with us. He is God’s Word; let us find consolation and enlightenment as we reflect on the word of God giving us assurance of his goodness and grace. Let us invite the Risen Lord to cast away the darkness and fill our hearts with his shining glory, making them burn within us as it did those of his disciples at Emmaus.

Jesus stays with us. The Lord indeed accepts the invitation of the two disciples: “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over” (Lk 24:29).  The Lord takes this opportunity to join them at table and break bread with them. ‘Breaking bread’ is the early name for the Eucharist. And indeed, we see Jesus taking, blessing, breaking, and giving the bread to them. It is exactly during this moment that they recognize him as the Lord.

We experience the abiding presence of our Lord in our Eucharistic celebrations. When we do the breaking of the bread “in memory of Him,” we are not just recalling his sacrifice done in the past; the Eucharistic celebration makes present among us who participate in the meal the one and the same sacrifice of Jesus Christ in his last supper. Just as the two disciples recognize the Lord during the breaking of the bread, we also experience the presence of the risen Lord in all our Eucharistic celebrations.

When we are down and our days seem dreary, where can we go? We look for Jesus. In the Eucharist we hear his Word and we experience his living presence. We invite the Lord to stay with us. And he’ll make our hearts burn within us.

Jesus brings us back to our feet. Hearts burning with zeal and new found joy cannot be contained. The two disciples, upon recognizing the Lord, cannot wait for the next day. They have to set out at once. Now! The good news burns inside them; they have to be back on their feet, aching to tell the others back in Jerusalem who may still be reeling in their own hopelessness too. As they arrive though, they join the Eleven and other disciples affirming with joy that the Lord has been truly raised. This is the first Easter community!

We are Easter people. We carry with us the good news that brings hope to the sorrowing, the anxious, the discouraged, the depressed and anyone who sees the darkness of their cocoon as the end of the world. We may have been once in the same darkness but we now have the risen Lord with us whose glory has broken through our own experiences of hopelessness. Then, as Easter people, we have to be on our feet. We have to set out and proclaim that God is always true to his Word; that He abides with us, and He brings life to all.

The Lord is alive! This we proclaim with hearts burning.

Facing Death Smiling (5th Sunday Lent A)

Nong Titoy was my favorite Kaabag (Eucharistic Lay Minister).  I admired him because of his selfless and uncomplaining manner of serving the Church in many and varied ways. In him I witnessed how, in poverty, a man can still be very generous with his time and the gift of himself. He was old enough to be my own father yet he had shown me deep respect. When he knew he was dying of cancer, he asked for me.  While lying on his bed, he took my hand and brought it to his forehead saying, “Bless me, Father… I’m dying.” Then he sobbed silently still holding my hand. I asked him if he was in pain. He looked at me and told me he was afraid. He continued sobbing.

A little later while I administered the anointing, I told him how much I admired him as a faithful disciple of Christ, that I was really grateful for his generosity in serving the Church, that I was very proud of him.  Jesus was even more proud of him and would certainly not lose him for the Spirit of the Lord had always been with him as manifested in the way he lived.

With the assurance of Christ’s mercy and love, Nong Titoy realized he had no reason to be afraid. As we continued chatting a little bit more, his sobs gradually turned into laughter, albeit, faint and weak. He was smiling when I left. And that was my last picture of him.

Helplessness in death.  Without Jesus Christ in our life, death is frightening.  It could mean the end of everything that we have and are.  As we die, we can be filled with anxiety and fear because, without Christ, everything we have valued and cherished in this life will turn into nothing.  Without Christ, death is the end of everything for us. Period. That’s frightening.

And what is even more cruel is the experience of our helplessness in the face of death.  Death comes, like it or not. While we may be able to postpone it, we cannot do anything to stop it. In the gospel reading today, Martha expressed such helplessness in the absence of Christ: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (Jn. 11: 21). But it seems, in the gospel reading, Jesus allowed the feeling of helplessness to be experienced by Lazarus.  He came four days too late.  Rather than do a miracle for his friend’s sake, He seemed to have allowed death to claim Lazarus.

Why so? Perhaps, helplessness brings forth humility to accept our total dependence on God’s life-giving Spirit.  Without this source of life, we die and that’s it. Helplessness in the face of death makes us realize the power of what Jesus claims in the gospel reading: “I am the resurrection and the life whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live” (Jn. 11:25). In helplessness we realize that only God can open our graves, as promised by the Prophet Ezekiel in the first reading, and have us rise from them. Only God can put his spirit in us that we may live. In helplessness we realize, as Lazarus’ family did, that only in and through Jesus Christ that death is vanquished and new life may flourish.

Life in the Spirit.  Lazarus symbolizes the Christian, the believer, who has died in the flesh but has been given life in the spirit by the Risen Lord. Lazarus stands for all the members of the early Christian community in Rome addressed by St. Paul in the second reading (Rom 8:8-11) in these words:  “But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is alive because of righteousness. “  St. Paul explains to the Christian community in Rome that they now have the life in spirit through the indwelling of the Spirit of the one who raised Christ from the dead.

Lazarus symbolizes you and me today. Because of our faith in Jesus Christ, we now possess the eternal life of the spirit. This gift of new life is realized in us sacramentally through our submission to baptism. In baptism, we celebrate our faith in Jesus.  Through the ritual act of immersion into the baptismal water, we symbolically experience our helplessness in death; and by emerging from the water, we joyfully rise with new life, the gift of the Spirit of Christ dwelling in us.

Invitation to Live Fully.  We easily think of eternal life as a future gift. By thinking so, often we miss to appreciate the gift of that same divine life—the life in the spirit--already given to us through our baptism. Jesus is the resurrection and life. Anyone who believes in him, even if he dies, will live. This is so because we already possess here and now the life given by Christ. Our physical death is only our passage to the fullness of eternal life.

Easter is approaching.  The joy of Lenten anticipation of Easter looks forward to the celebration of the triumph of Christ over sin and death.  The joy reminds us to live out fully every day the gift of new life that Christ has won for us and has given us in baptism. When we have lived out fully our life in the spirit—characterized by our love and service of God and neighbor--we can face our own death smiling as Nong Titoy did.  For with the spirit of the risen Christ already dwelling in us, death is nothing but a passage to the consummation of the gift of life well-lived.