The Stinging Ointment of Wholesome Sorrow

Still fresh from the feastday of St. Augustine, our patron saint here in Cagayan de Oro, I quote these 2 passages from the "Confessions" which capture the message of the 1st reading and Gospel of this Sunday.

The first reading speaks of the Lord's Word burning in the heart of Jeremiah, disturbing, distressing, directing Him to speak it out. Augustine also experienced how the Lord had disturbed him "with inward stings."

But you, O Lord, abide forever, yet thou art not forever angry with us, for you have compassion on our dust and ashes (Ps. 103:9-14.) It was pleasing in your sight to reform my deformity, and by inward stings you disturbed me so that I was impatient until you were made clear to my inward sight. By the secret hand of your healing, my swelling was lessened, the disordered and darkened eyesight of my mind was from day to day made whole by the stinging ointment of wholesome sorrow (Bk 7, Ch. 8).

And the Gospel tells how a disciple of Jesus must lose his/her life that s/he might gain it. Augustine relates how he had been freed from the sweetness of trifles that had chained him, and how it brought him joy.

How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be without the sweetness of trifles! And it was now a joy to put away what I formerly feared to lose. For you cast them away from me, O true and highest Sweetness. You cast them away, and in their place you entered in Yourself--sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood; brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mystery; more exalted than all honor, though not to them that are exalted in their own eyes. Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of seeking and getting, of wallowing in the mire and scratching the itch of lust. And I prattled like a child to you, O Lord my God--my light, my riches, and my salvation (Bk 9, Ch 1).

Happy Weekend!

Augustine, Patron of Backsliders

Another excerpt from St Augustine's "Confessions" (Bk 7, Ch 17) which some of us can identify with, and which can give us hope and encouragement as we seek to love the Lord and only Him, but find ourselves being weighed down by our old habits.

And I marveled that I now loved thee, and no phantasm in thy stead, and yet I was not stable enough to enjoy my God steadily. Instead I was transported to thee by thy beauty, and then presently torn away from thee by my own weight, sinking with grief into these lower things. This weight was carnal habit. But thy memory dwelt with me, and I never doubted in the least that there was One for me to cleave to; but I was not yet ready to cleave to thee firmly. For the body which is corrupted presses down the soul, and the earthly dwelling weighs down the mind, which muses upon many things.

... And I saw thy invisibility understood by means of the things that are made. But I was not able to sustain my gaze. My weakness was dashed back, and I lapsed again into my accustomed ways, carrying along with me nothing but a loving memory of my vision, and an appetite for what I had, as it were, smelled the odor of, but was not yet able to eat.

Happy Feast day!

Monica, the Peacemaker

August 27 is the feastday of Santa Monica, the mother of St. Augustine. She is more popularly known for her constant prayers and gift of tears by which she obtained from God the grace of the conversion of her husband as well as of her son, Augustine. But the following excerpt from the Confessions (Bk 9, Ch 9) of her son, Augustine, shows how she can teach how to be peacemakers, especially in the present context of fighting in Mindanao:

This other great gift thou also didst bestow, O my God, my Mercy, upon that good handmaid of thine, in whose womb thou didst create me. It was that whenever she could she acted as a peacemaker between any differing and discordant spirits, and when she heard very bitter things on either side of a controversy--the kind of bloated and undigested discord which often belches forth bitter words, when crude malice is breathed out by sharp tongues to a present friend against an absent enemy--she would disclose nothing about the one to the other except what might serve toward their reconciliation. This might seem a small good to me if I did not know to my sorrow countless persons who, through the horrid and far-spreading infection of sin, not only repeat to enemies mutually enraged things said in passion against each other, but also add some things that were never said at all. It ought not to be enough in a truly humane man merely not to incite or increase the enmities of men by evil-speaking; he ought likewise to endeavor by kind words to extinguish them. Such a one was she--and thou, her most intimate instructor, didst teach her in the school of her heart.

The Stranger

I feature for this weekend's reflection the (unedited) essay of Mark Elloren, a second year theology seminarian here in St John Vianney Theological Seminary. This was submitted as a weekly reflection for our Christology course. This also appears in his own blog/ multiply site. This Sunday's Gospel has Jesus asking the disciples, "Who do you say that I am?"

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He became stranger to me.

It was like the silence of two best friends who meet each other in the morning after making love for the first time the night before. They became strangers after exploring deeper the realities of themselves and found out that there was something more in their friendship.

It was like the awkward distance of lovers who meet in an unexpected circumstance after breaking up for many years. They became strangers after realizing they still love each other and that silent love created distance.

It was like that. Jesus became stranger to me.

Talking about Him deeply in our Christology class, I came to realize that there is something more about him. I thought he was just my best friend whom I could share my thoughts, my problems, my heartaches, my frustrations and my joy. I thought He was the Jesus who would take care of me in my loneliness, who will fight for me everytime I lose, and who would run for me like the father in the prodigal son after I make mistakes in life.

No, there is something more to him than just being a friend.

I thought my love for him would make me closer. No, my love for him creates space. Yet that space is a consoling space, a healing space and a loving space. I could not understand this thoroughly. But my point is: after loving him, Jesus became stranger to me. Love, then, is a paradox- it is close yet distance.

Is this the experience of the two disciples walking to Emmaus? They thought Jesus would save Israel from slavery. They thought Jesus will fulfill their desire for a Messiah. Jesus became stranger to them. Yet, the hope was that, the stranger made their hearts burning within. (Lk 32:24)

No words attached, with mystery, with unfamiliarity and with longing, the presence of the stranger somehow made my heart burning within.

It was like the moment, being with your beloved for long- no words attached, with mystery, with unfamiliarity, with longing- and realizing that your beloved becomes stranger to you.

Soon, I'll Be There

The Solemnity of Mary's Assumption has always gives a sense of quiet joy... because that is what hope brings... quiet joy. The Assumption of Mary gives us hope that like her, after our earthly pilgrimage, will also be brought to the Kingdom of Heaven, there to be forever with her Son, Jesus. For that is what heaven is, not a place somewhere out there, but full and unending union with Jesus Christ.

Indeed, while we are here on earth, we are beset by forces that hinder us from experiencing full union with Christ: our human weaknesses and limitations, our wayward and deceptive desires, our misdirected passions and attachments. And most of these are experienced in our bodies... this body of ours which is at once an instrument of grace as well as of sin.

For this reason, the Assumption of Mary gives us hope, that our bodies, yes, our entire person will be glorified one day, like that of Mary. Hence, we say to Mary, "We look to you, our model, our forerunner. Soon, I'll be there with you."

The Waves and Winds of our Lives

The sea is a double faced creature. At one time, it can be very calm and peaceful.  Other time, it is like a monster that devours people mercilessly, as was the case during the MV Princess od the Stars tragedy.  Even the best trained sailors and navigators are no match to the raging waters whenever the sea turns mad and murderous.  Not even their skills and experience could keep them calm and confident in such precarious situations.

In the Gospel, even the veteran fisherman that Peter was easily lost his courage when he saw the strong winds shaking the ground (or water) under his feet. And it was already Jesus standing before Him.  Yet He still doubted.

How similar to our experience! With all our catechism and religious education and theology, teaching us who Jesus is, how it is to put our faith in Him, we still easily get discouraged when the waves and winds come smashing our well built convictions and beliefs.  Yet how consoling it is to see the Lord stretching out His hand to catch us just before we fall, as He did to Peter.  Only then did He chide him for his doubts and discouragement.  

May we also see the hand of the Lord stretched out to us in assistance.  May we see and grasp it and rejoice in a God, always there to save us, but also gently rebukes us, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?"