A God Who Risks

When a woman finally accepts a marriage proposal, especially if it comes from a "less than ideal man", she is usually asked by her friends, "Are you sure of that man? Aren't you committing suicide? Are you that desperate?" But despite all badmouthing and the backbiting of the man, or perhaps, honest concern for the woman, she goes on to tie the knot with the man she believes is her Mr Right.

Perhaps, or for sure, she knows his weaknesses and limitations, and that she could be wrong, and they could be right. But never mind, she accepts him anyway. She gives him a chance. She takes the risk, for the sake of the relationship, for the sake of the man, for her own sake.

In the Gospel, the King probably knew the third servant would do as he did: kept the money, buried it, not even put in the bank so that it could earn interest, never took the risk of investing the money so that it could grow. But still, the King went on gave him a chance, took the risk with Him. In the end, however, the servant was judged appropriately.

Our God, our King... a God, a King who risks, a God who gives us the chance, to grow, to explore, to risk... despite knowing that we could fail, we could sin; but He goes on anyway, for He loves, He is Love. And only those who truly love take the chance, take the risk. And He is that God.

An Angry Christ

Can you imagine an angry Christ? We are told that the Gospel portrait of Jesus is that of a joyful and serene man. He has almost complete possession of Himself, his feelings and passions. But this Sunday's Gospel gives a another image of Jesus. It shows his other side, as it were, Jesus explicitly getting angry and being carried away by his anger that he overthrows the tables and whips the moneychangers and vendors away from the Temple.

Rather than subjecting Him to psycho-analysis, it's more beneficial to ask what triggered the anger of Jesus. The text says that the businessmen has turned the temple into a marketplace. In another Gospel, it says, the temple has been turned into a den of thieves. A Scripture scholar notes that whatr made Jesus terribly angry is that the place where the businessmen set up their tables and displayed their merchandise is the area where the poor may worship, thus depriving them of their place in the temple, a place which is actually already somewhere in the peripheries of the temple.

This connects to the second reading that says: "If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person; for the temple of God, which you are, is holy." An affront, a deprivation, desecration of the poor, who are also temples of God, and therefore holy, will certainly invite the anger, nay, the wrath of God. We hope we don't get driven out by an angry Christ. Let's make space for the poor, not only in our places of worship, but in every area of our life.

Saints with Small S

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us” (Heb 12:1).

It is said that solemnity honors the saints with a small “s”, meaning, those who are not officially recognized or canonized by the Church as saints, but are truly saints because they, too, have lived according to the Beatitudes. They, too, while on earth, were spiritually poor, merciful, pure of heart, peacemakers, agents of justice. Hence, though uncanonized, they are saints, too. We, therefore, believe that they are now fully united with God in the joys of the heavenly Kingdom.

For me, those people who have touched my lives and have been partly responsible for who I am now are also included among the cloud of witnesses who inspire me to run the race with joy and enthusiasm. Among those I remember on this day are:

- Lola Pining, Lolo Isko and Lolo Julian

- Fr Lorenzo delos Santos

- Jesuits Frs Bonoan, Rooney, Sanz, Dolan, Phelan, Gaa

Who are your small saints?

Measuring Love

This Sunday's Gospel gives a tall order: to love God with all of one's heart, soul, mind and strength. We might ask whether this is possible at all when, in fact, we can not even love those around us, even our loved ones, with all our mind, soul, strength etc. Most often, our self-giving in love for them would measure up to 90 or 95% only? Indeed, as St John says, "How can you love God whom you do not see when you do not love your neighbor whom you can see?"

Precisely, that is the point. The second greatest commandment is love of neighbor, which is inseparable from love of God, for the former is the measure of the later. The first reading gives concrete guidelines regarding this: defending the orphan and the widow, lending without interest, not taking advantage of the poor.

Love of God is measurable after all. They, the poor, the needy, the widow and the orphan. They hold the measuring rod. May we not be found wanting when measured.

What More Do You Want?

"What more was there to do for my vineyard that I had not done?" (Is 5:4a) This is also the Lord's question to Israel in Micah 6:3 when He laments: "O my people, what have I done to you? In what have I wearied you? Answer me!"

If there is anything else which the Lord has not done for His people and Israel asks for it, the Lord is willing to do it, if only to strengthen their covenant relationship. But we know the answer, the Lord has done His part. He has chosen Israel, He has freed them from Egypt, brought them to the Promised Land, defended them from their enemies and the list goes on.

The Lord has done everything, while Israel has done... nothing. Instead, they killed the prophets and the rest of God's messengers. Even the Son has not been spared by their envy and greed.

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We Can Be Saints, Too!

This is a tribute to San Lorenzo Ruiz, the Phil's one and only (officially canonized) saint. While Japan, China and other non-Christian countries already have countless of martyrs, the Philippines, the only Xtian country in Asia, has only 1.

San Lorenzo Ruiz was a lay man; he was not a priest or a religious. Hence, he is one like most of many Filipino, a lay man who has a family, but was nevertheless active in Church activities. But while we only 1 officially canonized saint, don’t we have hundreds, perhaps thousands of un-official/ un-canonized saints...like Mothers praying fervently each day for your perseverance, or your lola and/ or lola who wake up much earlier than our 5 AM rising time to walk to the Church amidst the dark and cold early morning to attend Mass! Or of the kaabags and katekistas who serve your parishes gratis, without any pay! And you can multiply the examples…

If only for this, many of our lay people, more than our own selves, qualify to be called saints for they meet Lawrence Cunningham’s definition of a saint “one who is so grasped by a religious vision that it becomes central to his or her life, in a way that radically changes the person and leads others to glimpse the value of that vision.”

Onthis feast of San Lorenzo Ruiz and companion martyrs, this is our call! This is our…challenge!

Is This All There Is For Me?

"Is this all there is for me?" is the question we ask when what we receive is less than what we think we should receive. Perhaps a compliment, or a word of praise, or a pat on the back, or an applause, or a bonus. The frustration is greater and the grumbling louder when we look over the shoulder of our neighbor and discover that this guy next to us who spent less hours and energy and talent (of which we think we have more, hmm, perhaps we do!) received the same, and worse, more praise or appreciation or bonus than we did. In effect, what should have been a happy occasion of receiving from the bounty of the Master becomes a recitation of a litany of complaints and gripings against, not the injustice of the Master, but His generosity.

This is the drama of this Sunday's Parable of the Hired Tenants. The question addressed to those who complained is for us, too, "Are you jealous that I am generous?" May this Sunday be truly the Lord's Day, a day of resting in and counting of (if we can) the blessings of the all-generous Lord, whose ways may be strange, but never unjust.

The Cross is the Cure

The "cross" is usually used as a metaphor for a problem. For example, a wife will say, "My husband is my cross." Or a student, "Physics and Trigo are my crosses." However, the readings for this Sunday, the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross, show us that the Cross is not the problem. On the contrary, it the solution, it is the cure.

In the first reading, the bronze serpent mounted on the pole is the cure for the impatient Israelites who were bitten by the snakes. The serpent on the pole is a type of Jesus who would later be fixed on the Cross. When we look at the cross, we see an ever patient God who bears with all our grumblings and murmurings and complaints, many of them too petty to even mention.

As we gaze on the Cross on the feast of its exaltation, may we realize more deeply its healing power in our lives, especially for our impatience, our pettiness, our lack of faith.

We adore you, O Christ and we bless you, because by your Holy Cross, you have redeemed the world.

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?"

Stumbling Upon the Treasure

The Gospel for this Sunday says "A man found a treasure hidden in the field... A man found a fine pearl..." The Gospel does not say that they were looking or searching for the treasure or the pearl. {The merchant was in search of fine pearls, but was nonetheless not expecting he would find one such fine pearl}. Hence, it could be that while they were going about their daily routine of ploughing the field, or sowing the seeds, or throwing their nets or rowing their boats, they unexpectedly stumbled upon the treasure or the pearl. Hence, their great joy their valuable find. Had they not gone through their daily tasks patiently, boring or tiring though it might have been, they would not have found the treasure or the pearl.

Great and valuable treasures, therefore, are not to be found in some special times or places other than in the daily, ordinary routine of our lives. Happy weekend!

http://picturepost.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/fishermen.jpg

Wheat among the Weeds

The more popular title of this parable from Matthew 13:24-43 is "Weeds among the Wheat." I wonder whether it is possible to call it instead, "Parable of the Wheat among the Weeds." The former title seem to presuppose that there are more wheat than weeds. Well, because as the parable says, it was what the owner of the vineyard planted.

If we are to grant the explanation that the wheat are the "good" people, and the weeds are the "bad" people whom God has allowed to exist alongside the good people, aren't there times when it seems that there are more bad people than good people. And amidst the growing numbers of bad people, it seems more and more difficult to be good. It's difficult to be a wheat among the weeds, especially if the weeds grow faster than the wheat.

With this feeling, we find the St Paul's very consoling:
"The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness;
for we do not know how to pray as we ought,
but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.
And the one who searches hearts
knows what is the intention of the Spirit,
because he intercedes for the holy ones
according to God’s will."

Take courage, then, wheat of God.

Seeds of Prayer and Silence

Sunday, July 13, I am giving a day of recollection to some nuns of the Religious Sisters of Mercy in Camp Philips, Bukidnon. I surfed the internet to get an idea who they are. I found out who their foundress was, Catherine McAuley. And she has some beautiful words worth pondering on. I decided to offer these quotations as recollection points for the sisters. Like the Sunday Gospel, Catherine makes use of the image of planting.

Prayer is a plant the seed of which is sown in the heart of every Christian, but its growth entirely depends on the care we take to nourish it.

Retreat Instructions, p. 90

Thus we go on…flourishing in the very midst of the Cross, more than a common share of which has latterly fallen to my lot, thanks be to God. I humbly trust it is the cross of Christ. I endeavor to make it in some way like his by silence.

Letter to Frances Warde May 15, 1838

Happy Sunday!

Isn't It Heavy?

Don't we sometimes want to ask the Lord, "You said your yoke is easy, and your burden light. But actually, what you are asking me to do, the tasks you are giving me, the challenges you are asking me to face, the cross you are asking me to bear are not at easy or light! Under the weight of all these, I fall to the ground, I hurt my knees, I see sweat and blood on my skin. What made you say it is easy and light?"

But to ask this question is to miss to hear what the Lord says before these words. He says: "Come to me all who labor and are heavily burdened. Learn from me for I am meek and humble of heart. Your souls will find rest." Only if we come close to the Lord and learn from Him will our yokes and burden be easier and lighter. And there close to Him, we shall find His hand extended to us in assistance, His shoulder offered to us to lay our heads, His heart open in welcome and acceptance.

May this experience of the Lord's assuring presence inspire to say in response: I will praise your name for ever, my king and my God.

Doubters' day

Many Catholics ask whether doubting the existence or the presence of God is a sin. Today's feast of St. Thomas, popularly known as the "Doubting Thomas" should answer that question. In the encounter between the Risen Christ and Thomas, our Lord granted Thomas' request: that he probe the nailprints and put his hands on our Lord's side. Jesus welcomed the doubts of Thomas and helped him through it and invited him to faith. Thomas' doubts, then, became a stepping stone to faith. And we are told that his profession of faith in Jesus as Lord and God the sums up all the other all previous professions of faith of the other characters in John's Gospel.

We are, then, in good company! Happy feastday, doubters!

What Makes a Pillar

Saints Peter and Paul are called the pillars of the Catholic Church. Peter is the "rock upon which the Church is built" (Mt 16:18) and Paul is the "chosen vessel through whom the Gospel is proclaimed to all nations" (Acts 9:15).

We usually think of a pillar as a rock, strong, sturdy, heavy. Are these the reasons why Peter and Paul are called pillars of our faith? Because they are strong, sturdy?

On the surface, it seems they were strong, but we know that their weaknesses got the better of them too. Their being "pillars of the Church" must be for some other reason.

In the post-resurrection encounter between Jesus and Peter, Jesus asks him: “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” And Peter confesses his love for Christ, knowing fully well how he failed the Lord.

Paul, for his part, declares: “Though I myself have reason for confidence in the flesh also. If any other man thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more:
But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as refuse, in order that I may gain Christ” (Phil 3:4, 7-8)

Hence, it is their love, their love for Christ that made them pillars of our Church; their strength comes from their love for Christ.

What's the source of your strength?

We pray that like Peter and Paul, we may find in Christ our pillar of strength.