Do not be Afraid. Have faith. (13th Sunday Ordinary B)

In the movie, First Knight, the free-spirited and bohemian character who lived by the sword, Lancelot, fearlessly rescued from the attack of the soldiers of the ex-Round Table Knight, Malagant, the beautiful and attractive Lady Guinevere who was betrothed to the King.  Lancelot was immediately taken in by Guinevere’s beauty. So in another occasion, Lancelot displayed his wanton bravery when he nonchalantly made it through the Gauntlet, a seemingly-impossible obstacle course set up for amusement by the King. His aim was to impress Lady Guinevere and to get closer to her.  By King Arthur’s invitation, Lancelot became one of the Round Table Knights.  The secret mutual attraction between Lancelot and the Queen continued to grow.  The free-spirited Lancelot began to learn how to care and love.  When the King was forced to go to battle one last time to defend the city of Camelot against Malagant, Lancelot, for the first time, experienced fear.  This time, he was very afraid of death because he was in love.

Aren’t we all afraid of death?  Looking at it without the eyes of faith, death can represent the tragic nature of human existence. We unconsciously avoid confronting the issue of death; we just ignore it and wish it away. When at last we muster our courage to come to terms with it, we are faced with the problem of the meaning of life altogether.  What is the point of living when by all indications we are condemned to die?  The famous Existentialist Erich Fromm, for instance, noted that at the time a person is born, he already begins to die and he always dies before he is fully born.  At birth, man begins to suffer and he will suffer until he dies.  And what makes life tragic and suffering unbearable is that an individual usually dies before his loved ones or they before him and there is no comfort in either case except pain and suffering.

Without faith in God, the origin and destiny of life, we are left with fear.  We fear our own death and, more so, that of our loved ones.  Without faith, we fear that life itself is pointless.

In today’s gospel reading (Mk 5:21-43), Jesus assures us of the triumph of life over death and suffering.  He is the answer to the riddle of our human existence.  Jesus cures the woman with a haemorrhage and restores the life of the daughter of Jairus.  These two connected incidents portray Jesus’ immersion into the suffering of human existence.  He is amid a large crowd hoping for some kind of help or relief from the different faces of suffering.  One of these is the woman who has been afflicted with haemorrhages for twelve years. The other is the synagogue official, Jairus, who is tormented by the prospect of the death of his 12-year old daughter.  Jesus is right there in the midst of the crowd’s search for hope, for meaning, for life.  And Jesus responds in accordance to the faith of those who come to him.

To the woman freed from prolonged haemorrhagic sufferings, Jesus says: “Daughter, your faith has saved you.”  To Jairus who is greeted with the sad news of the death of his daughter, Jesus says: “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” And He restores the life of the child.

Only with the eyes of faith that we can grasp the ultimate beauty of life—that life is not just pure pointless suffering that culminates in death; that life is our destiny in eternity; that the abundance of life with God is our ultimate fate. 

Today’s readings invite us not to be afraid.  But to trust in God and have faith.  Jesus makes good of the assurance of the book of Wisdom that “God did not make death nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living…. That God formed man to be imperishable; the image of his own nature he made him” (Wis 1:13-23).  Death is the work of the devil and Jesus has overcome its power by his own death and resurrection.  Jesus is our salvation. Jesus is our life.

“Do not be afraid. Have faith.” We can make this our mantra when we feel we are being overcome by doubt and fear amid the sufferings and seeming contradictions in life.  To trust in God, the God of the living, allows us to embrace life to its fullest, freed from the unnecessary torment of the prospect of dying. To be unafraid sets us free to be joyful in serving, unreserved in self-giving, quick in forgiving, and courageous in loving.

With faith in Jesus, life prevails and has a beautiful eternal purpose. And even our physical death can be something beautiful. In the words of Mother Teresa of Calcutta: Death, in the final analysis, is only the easiest and quickest means to go back to God. If only we could make people understand that we come from God and that we have to go back to Him!

Again, we listen to the words of Jesus who reassures us: “Do not be afraid. Have faith.”

Unless We Die (5th Sunday Lent B)

Our natural instinct is self-preservation.  We protect ourselves from harm and, as much as possible, from death.  Dying is something we avoid thinking about. We dread it because it is destructive.  But much as we want to deny it, death is a process we will certainly all go through. The death of Jesus Christ on the cross, when we give it a serious look, transforms our attitude and the meaning we give to death. 

The story of Richie Fernando, a young Filipino Jesuit missionary in Cambodia, can help us gain an insight into this Christ-transformed understanding of death.  Before ordination to the priesthood, Richie was sent to Cambodia and worked as a teacher in a technical school for the handicapped.  He loved his students and allowed them to share with him their stories. He would write to a friend in the Philippines and express his joy in giving his life in the service of the handicapped:  “I know where my heart is, It is with Jesus Christ, who gave his all for the poor, the sick, the orphan ...I am confident that God never forgets his people: our disabled brothers and sisters. And I am glad that God has been using me to make sure that our brothers and sisters know this fact. I am convinced that this is my vocation.”

On October 17, 1996, one of Richie’s students, Sarom, a landmine victim who had been feared because of his disruptive behaviour and had been asked to leave by the school authorities, came to the school for a meeting.  Out of anger, he pulled out a grenade from his bag and moved towards a classroom full of students. Richie came up behind Sarom and restrained him. While struggling, Sarom dropped the grenade behind Richie and that instance spelled the death of the young missionary.  In trying to save the lives of others, Richie gave up his own.  

Richie’s life, I believe, was characterized by self-giving.  Before his untimely death, he had been dying every day to self with his decision to give his life in the service of the poor and the handicapped of Cambodia.  His death was a culmination of a life totally given to others and to Jesus.

Today’s gospel reading (Jn 12:20-33) offers us the clearest illustration of the relationship between dying and attaining new life: “Unless the grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat. But if it dies, it produces much fruit.” Dying and rising to new life is central to our Lenten celebration which allows us to reflect on the paschal mystery of Christ. Jesus Christ is the grain of wheat.  He has to submit himself to death that he may conquer it by his resurrection. This is at the heart of Lent.

A disciple of Christ has to be like him, a grain of wheat ready to give up everything in dying in order to usher in the fullness of life.  The true following of Christ is not easy.  Real discipleship is not cheap. The way is costly. Discipleship requires our dying to oneself every day. Following Christ does not right away mean offering one’s life big time on the cross. The magnanimity and courage of the heart to give up everything in death do not come to us automatically as part of our nature.  What is natural to us is self-preservation. Self-sacrifice is transcending what is natural with the aid of grace. It has to be nurtured by our decisions to die a little each day by way of our acts of self-denial.  When we forget ourselves because our concern is the welfare of those who need our service and love, we have died to our selfishness.

Death for a believer, therefore, is already a consummation of a life spent in daily self-offering.  The destructive nature of death then, as in the destructiveness of the cross of Christ, is overcome by freely embracing death in self-giving just as Jesus Christ embraced his death in total surrender to the will of the Father. 

Our Lenten journey to Easter reminds us that there is no escaping the process of dying in our way to everlasting life.  We cannot eliminate the cross on our way to glory. There is no such thing as Christianity without the cross.  In fact, the way of the cross is the only way Christ has chosen to take in order to bring new life to all. The way of the cross is the Christian way of life and the way to life.

Richie Fernando gave up his life that all those whom he loved, his handicapped students, may have life.  His death culminated his earthly life characterized by daily self-giving.  He has lived the fullness of life that a faithful disciple could wish for.  Like Richie, we are invited to go beyond our self-preserving instinct.  We are called to transcend our self-love.  Dying each day to our selfishness and egoism liberates us to care for and serve others.  This is, perhaps, the greatest paradox in life: When we die each day in self-giving, it is when we gain the freedom to live our lives to the full. And when in death, we surrender humbly and trustingly everything to God, death loses its sting and eternal life shines brightly.

“The man who loves his life loses it, while the man who hates his life in this world preserves it to life eternal.”

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.