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.

Sharing Even the Last Bread (Corpus Christi C)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?  

Life is a Matter of What You Give (29th Sunday Ordinary B)

Relationship is a matter of giving and taking. Or we all say so. All of us seem to accept this as a matter of fact. Often we say, “In life we ​​must be prepared to give and take.” We say this so often that it becomes a favorite cliché. Do we really mean it? I think I am more to the point when, in my naughty moments, I play with this idiomatic expression and say, “Yes, life is give and take. You give, and I take. ”

“You give and I take” is probably what we really live by. However we verbalize our belief in the principle of yielding and compromise, all too often we are in fact motivated by a self-centered one-way “what's-in-it-for-me” stance. “What can I get out of this?” This is the question we pose, consciously or unconsciously, when we are at the threshold of committing to something.We commit when there's a promise of abundance for ourselves. If there is none, we gladly turn our back to it or at most give our nonchalant commitment only to fade away sooner than we think.

I find the request of James and John in today's gospel reading (Mk 10: 35-45) quite self-centered. Typical of the what's-in-it-for-me attitude. Listen to this: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you”(v. 35). If I were the Master, I would have retorted with my eyebrows raised, “Hey, look at you. Who do you think you are? ” These sons of Zebedee seem to have gotten it all wrong. They follow Jesus for their vested interest. Perhaps Jesus sees this opportunity to unmask the selfish motivation in these two disciples. So, very much unlike my uncharitable retort, Jesus gently asks them, “What do you wish me to do for you?” And how amazingly Jesus succeeds in ferreting out what's lurking inside these two. "Grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and the other at your left."

Oh, how often do we sound like these two in our own prayers to the Lord! "Lord, I've been a good Christian… been faithful to your teachings… so, I ask that you give me this… you give me that." Like these two disciples, we easily tend towards the direction of what I shall call the “what's-in-it-for-me discipleship” —a discipleship that is taken in order to quench the endless thirst for privilege and rewards.

Jesus teaches James and John, and we too, his present disciples, to purify our motivations in following him. Jesus forgives our lack of understanding. He knows how hard it is for us to transcend our selfishness. So he never gets tired of guiding us. He teaches us in today's gospel that to follow him is not to expect the reward of the high and mighty positions. To follow him is to be ready to accept Jesus' cup of suffering and his baptism of death. In other words, to follow Jesus is to follow the path of humility, service, and total generosity. To follow Jesus is to give everything that we have and are.

The question that ought to guide and motivate us in all our commitments as Christians is not“What can I get out of this?” but “What can I give? What can I offer? How can I be of help? How can I make this world a beautiful place for others to live in? How can I serve the least of my brothers and sisters? ” If by God's grace our commitments are governed by these selfless motivations then we can be glad to know that we form the kind of discipleship the Lord wants — the smiling “what-can-I-do-for-you” discipleship.

As a priest, many times I catch myself in the former stance, the 'what's-in-it-for-me' attitude. I serve so that I can get my reward. Often, at the end of the day, even if I get what I expected out of my self-giving, I feel heavy, less joyful. Worse, if I don't get what I've expected, I end up disappointed and henceforth, less motivated. But in the grace-filled moments of my priesthood, when I get up and ask the world “What can I give? What can I do for you? ”, And all I can think of is to share, to give, to serve, to make this world a hopeful place for people to live in, I experience joy in its purity — one that no amount of reward can ever give.

So, I'm inclined to challenge what has become anyway a favorite cliché, ie, 'Life is a matter of giving and taking.' When we follow Jesus, never mind the 'taking' part; I think there's a grain of divine wisdom in believing that life is really a matter of what you give. Try it.

The Good Shepherd's Foolishness (4th Sunday Easter B)

Come to think of it, it’s quite absurd for our self-preserving and calculating natural orientation to go by the Good Shepherd’s sacrificial laying down of one’s life for one’s sheep.  It does not make sense for us to sacrifice our life, our highest value, for the sheep.  Something deep inside tells us “it’s not worth it!”  Our primary concern is to preserve our life; everything else is secondary.  Hence, we see the absurdity of Gods’ love for us. By human reckoning, to die for a sinful people is not worth it. The Good Shepherd laying down his life for us is beyond human logical calculation. But God’s love again is beyond human logic. God does not calculate when it comes to loving us. Even when we were sinners, the Good Shepherd did not hesitate to die for our sakes.

Today is the Good Shepherd Sunday.  Let’s open our minds and hearts to learn from our Good Shepherd. Three things for our reflection:

On Total Self-giving. The Good Shepherd’s total self-giving reminds us to overcome our minimalist stance in life. Jesus said: “I am the Good Shepherd; the Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Jesus does not calculate how much to give of himself.  He gives up everything. It’s total self-giving, the mark of real love. This invites us to examine and correct our very calculating and minimalist attitude in life.  We tend to give what is only expected of us—the minimum.  We measure what we give and what we do for others; and we have a keen sense of how far we ought to give.  Oftentimes we base our calculation on what the law or any social norm requires.  To give beyond that seems to be unwise, unpractical, or “lugi” in our business parlance.  To give more than what is expected sometimes leaves us a sense of loss or “panghihinayang.”  So we settle with our minimal self-giving.

We need to love like the Good Shepherd does in order to be able to give more of ourselves. We are his sheep. We follow our Good Shepherd. To the world, He is absurd; but we are not of this world.  Jesus’ absurdity is the wisdom of God.  We follow our Good Shepherd, not the standard of this world. Like what our psalm proclaims: “It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes” (Ps 118: 8-9).

On Serving with Care. The Good Shepherd’s way of ministering reminds us to overcome our tendency towards “economism.” We tend to view a lot of our life in terms of economic value.  Our work, for instance, has been reduced to an economic component.  We are reduced to becoming hired workers--with the emphasis on the “hired.”  We gradually lost touch of the deep vocational and ministerial aspect of our professions and jobs.  We are killing ourselves working hard for our pay. Nothing more.

The Good Shepherd’s commitment to take care of his sheep is especially contrasted with that of the hired shepherd. The former gives himself to service and to care for his sheep; the latter has no concern for his sheep for he works only for pay. Again, we follow the Good Shepherd.  While we give due value to compensation and the necessity of justice in wages, foremost to our concern is the dignity of our work.  Our work is a vocation to serve, to minister, and to care for those who are entrusted upon us.

On Proactive Living. The Good Shepherd’s free initiative in giving his life reminds us to overcome our tendency to react to life by complaining. Jesus said: “I lay down my life to take it up again. No one takes it from me; I lay it down freely.” Jesus was not a victim of circumstances. His sacrificial act is his free decision. He willed to die as a response to the utter need for salvation of his sheep. Oftentimes, we find ourselves reacting to what life gives us. And we complain a lot. We play victim. So we serve begrudgingly. Truly unhappy. And we persist in the unhappiness of doing things half-heartedly.

The Good Shepherd reminds us to stop playing victim.  Stop complaining. Be proactive. Act from conviction and free initiative. Only then will we truly be happy with what we do.

A taxi driver used to complain a lot until a passenger, apparently a successful businessman, pointed out to him how futile it was to complain in life. If he wanted to change his life, he must stop complaining and start to serve whole-heartedly.  So the driver began to take care of his taxi, cleaning it and polishing it well. He became friendly to his passengers and assured them of his honesty.  People began to be happy with his way of serving. They asked for his calling card and gave him generous tips. Now, while other taxi-drivers complain and spend a lot of time queuing, this driver is busy receiving calls and reservation from those whom he had served.  His life is changed.

The Good Shepherd wants us to follow his way and change the quality of our self-giving, our serving, and our living for the better—far better than we can imagine.

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.”

Gratuitous Love (4th Sunday Lent B)

Gratuity is an uncommon word as the concept itself is quite strange in this profit-oriented society.  In this era when economic gain seems to be the be-all-and-end-all of life, we easily acquiesce to the principle that nothing comes for free.  There’s no such thing as a free lunch, we say.  Everything has a price.  Everything has to be paid.  Even in the theological exposition of the “economy of salvation,” the expiation framework easily makes sense to most of us:  The cross of Christ is some kind of a payment for our sins. To be saved from sin, someone has to pay the price. This logic we understand quite readily.

The readings today, fortunately, offer us another way of understanding the mystery of our salvation.  The readings invite us to see our relationship with God from the point of view of God’s gratuitous love.  For this we need to let go first of our fixation to concepts like profit, interest, price, payment.  We need to accept the principle of gratuity:  The best things in life are for free.  The nearest common concept to gratuity, I think, is gift-giving.  But again, even this concept has been tainted with self-interest as in the case of our exchange-gift-Christmas-party favourite.  We give and expect to receive.  All too often, we are robbed of the joy of pure giving when we fail to receive what we have expected to.

Something is gratuitous when it is offered unwarranted, undeserved, unmerited.  It is pure gift. Not demanded nor bought.  God’s love to us is gratuitous. This is illustrated in our first reading (2 Chr 36: 14-16, 19-23), when God inspired Cyrus, the King of Persia, to free the Israelites from Babylonian captivity.  This loving act of deliverance was unmerited by an unfaithful people.  Despite their sins, the people of Israel were restored to their own land.  St. Paul expresses this in the second reading (Eph 2:4-10) with more clarity of insight into God’s undeserved love and mercy: Brothers and sisters, God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, brought us to life with Christ... For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast (vv. 4-9). 

Clear as daylight. We did not deserve to be cared for.  We were sinful, unfaithful, hard-headed, proud, and selfish. Despite these, we were saved from the very sins that had brought death upon us.  Such is the greatness of God’s love. Gratuitous indeed!

Moreover, today’s gospel (Jn 3: 14-21) highlights God’s love as his own initiative of giving up his only Son that we may have eternal life: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. The Son of God is lifted up on the cross as God’s ultimate act of sacrificial love.  Through this sacrificial love, our enslavement to sin has been broken.  Selfishness has been overcome by total self-giving.  And by Christ’s resurrection, death is vanquished; eternal life dawns for all of us who believe.  And all of these come to us for free.  It’s pure gift.  If there’s one thing we can be sure of about what God is not, God is every inch not a businessman!

In this season of Lent, we may do well to heed these following invitations:

Conviction.  Are we convinced of the gratuity of God’s love for us? Isn’t it the case that often we are practically incredulous of God’s capacity to love us despite our unworthiness? In our relationship with God, we allow our sense of unworthiness to get in the way.  We still think that we can only come to God when we are worthy; so, when we are not (which is often the case), we keep God at bay.  Lent is an opportunity to strengthen our conviction about God’s gratuitous love for us.  It is God’s grace which makes us worthy of him. We need to surrender to this truth and there can be no stronger proof of his unconditional love than the fact that, by God’s initiative, his beloved Son was lifted up on the cross... that we may have life.

Celebration.  A true disciple of Christ has all the reasons to be joyful. This season invites us to celebrate the joy of being loved gratuitously.  This is an invitation to a joyful spirituality, living each day with the delight that the new life in Christ brings, living in a loving relationship with God with utmost confidence in God’s unfailing fidelity, if not in our own capacity to be faithful.  May this season help us to truly relish with joy our freedom from sin and death won for us by Christ through his cross and resurrection. 

Commitment.   We have been loved unconditionally.  God loves us not because we are good.  God loves us despite ourselves. He loves us warts and all. His love is not because of our merit.  His love is pure gift.  Every day we receive his grace and we experience his mercy as gift. This experience of gratuity invites us to a commitment to self-giving, to be a man-and-woman-for-others, to serve without asking for reward, to give to those who cannot give back. 

May the Lenten discipline transform us into the effective signs of the presence of God’s gratuitous love amid this society which puts a tag price to just everything.