NOT YET HOLY

Tuesday in the 8th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 10:28-31

I want to be holy. But my desire to be holy is often easier said than done. The road to holiness is not only narrow; it is also long and rough.

God placed in us the desire to be holy. We were created in the image and likeness of God who is all-holy. We were fashioned according to holiness. We are meant to be holy. Until we become holy, we remain restless. Our peace lies in becoming holy like God Himself.

To sin is to be unholy. To sin is to be unlike God. To sin is to go against the very One in whose image and likeness we have been created. To sin is to destroy our selves. To sin is, in a sense, suicide.

To live is to reverse evil. Reverse e-v-i-l and you will l-i-v-e. To live is to be holy. To be holy is to live as we are destined to be…in the image and likeness of God.

St. Peter, in the First Reading today (1 Pt 1:10-16), reminds us of our calling from God: “Be holy, for I am holy.” The persecutions, Jesus mentions in the Gospel today together with the blessing intended fro those who leave everything for the Gospel, are meant to polish us and make us shine with the luster of God’s image and likeness. Persecutions for the sake of the Gospel help us to be holy.

I do not like persecutions (Who does?). That is why I am not yet holy. I often find my self running away from the crosses I have to bear because of the Gospel. That must be the reason why I am not yet holy.

How about you, are you already holy?

SOLO DIOS BASTA

Monday in the 8th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 10:17-27

Christian poverty is the virtue of personal and total freedom from all inordinate attachments in order to be always and completely available to God and His Kingdom. Just like any virtue, poverty is a grace form God more than a fruit of human effort

Jesus does not praise destitution; He advocates ordinate detachment. Jesus does not want us to be hopelessly miserable; He wishes that we would live simply always. It is not suffering for the sake of suffering that Jesus desires; it is freedom from worldly things that He demands from anyone who wishes to follow Him.

Not everything we want we need. Some of the things we think we possess are the very things that actually possess us. Many of the things we think we cannot live without are in themselves the very things that hinder us from living fully.

Poverty, as a Christian virtue, should assist us to be holy. Poverty, as a personal and complete freedom, must detach us from the world so that we may attach our selves more to God. Poverty, as grace, should lead us unto greater charity, not unto greater misery.

Just being poor does not mean we practice the virtue of poverty. For, indeed, there are many who are spiritually lacking as they are materially wanting. And being poor does not mean that we are automatically freed from inordinate attachments, for, indeed, there are many who are spiritually in bondage as they are bodily enslaved. Just being poor does not make us holy, for, indeed, there are many who are morally depraved when they are financially in need.

When our poverty is truly a virtue, a personal and complete freedom from worldly attachments, and a grace from God, then we become even richer than when we first decided to give up everything for the sake of God and His Kingdom. While we are detached from everything, we are attached to Him who gives us everything that is good.

“Solo Dios basta,” said St. Teresa of Avila. That is what makes poverty a virtue!

GOD SPEAKS TO THE PHILIPPINES TODAY (A Special Homily on the Recent National Crisis)

8th Sunday in the Ordinary Time
Hos 2:16,17,21-22/Mk 2,18-22

Speaking about politics is not the same as politicking. Reflecting on politics in the light of Scripture is not politicking; espousing an ideology and wooing people’s support for a political office is. It is the Church’s mandate to permeate every human affair – and politics is a human affair – with the Gospel of Christ. In accomplishing this mandate, the Church purifies, with the value and power of the Gospel of Christ, elements found in human concerns even as she allows the same human concerns to challenge the Gospel message in a particular social, cultural, economic, and political milieu. With this understanding, this homily is not politicking, but a reflection on the political crisis that relentlessly plagues us as a nation. I am a theologian, not a politician. Thus, it is only in the light of the Word of God that this homily is made and hereby preached today.

Indeed the Word of God speaks to us, Filipinos, in particular today. It seems that we are being singled out among many nations of the civilized world and convicted by the Word of God today. The message of the Lord for us is very direct and disturbing. Unless we heed it and live by it, there is no end that awaits us as a nation but utter destruction. Even as now, the so called “gains” of the EDSA ’86 bloodless revolution, that won for our selves self-respect and the admiration of the community of nations, are gradually but steadily being lost. We did indeed give the world a precious gift, but we are obviously squandering the same gift. People Power is our broken promise to humanity, and, needless to say, to God and to our selves as well.

Why is this so? There are three reasons.

First, People Power seems to be equated by many as a mere change in the leadership of this nation. There was a change in the political leadership, from a dictatorial regime to democratic governance, but the transformation of our values, paradigms, and attitudes, as a people, has yet to be seen because either it has not been given much thought or much thought has not been translated into sincere action. It makes us wonder whether when the shouts, “Tama na! Sobra na! Palitan na!”, were heard from EDSA in 1986, they really meant, “Tama na! Sobra na! Palitan na! KAMI NAMAN!” Thus, while a strong ruler, tainted with cronyism and compromised integrity, left the palace hurriedly, a new set of cronies and a freshly made-up but the same face of compromised integrity simply came in. Rightly, our national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal, questioned without seeing EDSA Uno: “?Para que la libertad si los esclavos de hoy seran los tiranos de manaña?” (“What is freedom for if the slaves of today will become the tyrants of tomorrow?”)

Second, in 1986 we proved, perhaps not so much to the world but to our selves, that we were ready to die for our country. I was there. I know the experience first hand. I was a young seminarian in front of the tanks. People Power shaped not only my identity as a Filipino but my priestly ministry as well. There was no question, we were all ready to die for this nation, but we seem to have forgotten to live for it. It was easier to die for the country in 1986 and be considered a hero. It is much difficult to live for the same country after 1986 and be its citizen. Dying for one’s motherland is a one-time event and frees us totally from the hardships of life, but to live for her each day in the midst of the burdens and challenges that confront us today is more than twice or thrice difficult. To live for our country necessarily demands from us sacrifices, and the higher we are in the ladder, the greater the sacrifice that is required of us. If we have the supreme power, the supreme sacrifice is the call we must answer.

Third, the bloodless revolution of 1986 at EDSA is People Power. The heroes of EDSA were the whole people and not only a few celebrated personalities. The heroes of EDSA were the whole nation united in God with the maternal protection of the Blessed Mother. We were a people in prayer together. We were a people sacrificing together. Because we were together in prayer and sacrifice, God won the battle not only for us but also through us. The so called “gains” of EDSA Uno were the gains of the people, many of whom were easily and wantonly categorized as the “masses”. People Power was more than just a widow in yellow, a prelate in red, or political personalities in various colors. People Power is the power of the people in prayer. It is the power of a praying people. It is the power of God.

Yesterday was the 20th anniversary of the People Power Revolution of 1986. For someone like me who was actually there when it happened, the past two days were very sad days. I am but one Filipino priests among many, but like many of you, I stood there before tanks and armed soldiers and put my life on the line for the freedom we know enjoy. For many, the past two days (and still counting) were very frightening days; frightening not only for those who gathered again at EDSA Shrine and at the Ninoy Aquino monument in Ayala, but also for those who were holed in inside their palatial fortresses. For all of us, there was confusion. We knew the spirit of EDSA was being violated and symptoms of our society’s chronic disease were clearly emerging. Remembering EDSA ’86 brought us back, literally or symbolically, to EDSA, but the otherwise avenue of our pride and freedom has changed. EDSA has become a wilderness.

Wilderness is a dry place. It is a place of thirst. Twenty years after EDSA Uno, we continue to thirst for peace, for truth, for better lives, and for moral governance.

Wilderness is an environment of deafening silence. Twenty years after EDSA Uno, the celebrations were cancelled and we could not gather together in peace, not because we refused to celebrate EDSA ’86 but because we were silenced by people who were not even there when EDSA Uno happened.

Wilderness is a condition where perennial threat to life is present. The twentieth year of EDSA Uno was marked by violent dispersals of people, warrant less arrest of the oppositionists, and military take-over of a publishing house critical of the government. Suddenly, vestiges of the former martial rule undeniably re-emerged, causing goose bumps to many who lived through the horrors of P.D. 1081.

People Power Revolution was our gift to the world, but have we given the world a wilderness as a gift? I am not shy to confess that I am moved to tears as I tell you this. We have given the world a gift, but we were the first to have squandered it. Yes, we pray for a strong republic because the republic seemed to be stronger twenty years ago when we had our one shining moment through People Power.

People Power is like the new wine mentioned in the Gospel today. It is a new wine that is continuously wasted because the wineskins that hold it remain old. New wine, as Jesus tells us today, requires new wineskins. People Power demands the change of heart, the conversion of lives, the transformation of people. Otherwise, putting the new wine that is People Power into old wineskins will burst the wineskins and waste the wine, as what we see is happening to our dear Philippines.

Almost like coming from the grave, we hear the voice of our former Archbishop, Jaime Cardinal Sin, calling us not for another People Power perhaps but for the long delayed transformation of our hearts. In his inaugural address as the then new Archbishop of Manila, the late Cardinal, of blessed memory, called for a revolution of the heart, a revolution of love. This was his first call even before he called us to go to EDSA in 1986. We seemed to have forgotten the first call in the euphoria of the second.

The Lord speaks to us, Filipinos, in particular today through the prophet Hosea in the First Reading: “Come to me into the wilderness, and there I will speak to your heart.” If EDSA indeed has become our wilderness, it remains for us a call from God to turn to Him that He may heal our land. Yes, there is hope, as our present Archbishop, Cardinal-elect Gaudencio Rosales, said yesterday. Let us not be afraid of our wilderness. Let us face it. Let us go through it together and with the Lord. And let us come out of it as new wineskins for the new wine He offers the world through us.

We do not have to go to EDSA now. There is people power fatigue already. What we must do is to go deeper into our hearts to purge it of all selfishness, lies, and violence. Let us not deceive our selves; we know that no amount of Presidential Proclamations, no amount of distributing houses to disgruntled soldiers, no amount of raising the wages of government workers, no amount of diverting the people’s attention to other validly important issues, no amount of assuring business men that there is no other best person to lead this country except the one that asserts so for the self, no amount of shaking hands in malls whether in Taguig or elsewhere, will bring peace and order in our land. There is a solution to the crisis we face, and it begins with the change of our hearts that manifests itself in our being God-fearing, in our love for one another, in our care for nature, in our preservation of moral integrity, and in our respect for the laws of the land, even that which is as minute as a traffic rule.

It is quite dangerous to preach homilies like this today. The phrase “inciting to sedition” has been relativized. But God must be the first to be picked up today for questioning because it is He who now speaks despite Presidential Proclamation 1017. Will they arrest Him today?

WHY FAST?

8th Sunday in the Ordinary Time
Mk 2:18-22

Fasting is a form of discipline. It tames us from our cravings. It teaches us the positive value of delaying gratification. It reminds us that we are not only what we take in but we are also what we give up.

Discipline is not always easy. It is not a matter of will power because even will power breaks. It is not achieved without giving up something for a higher purpose. When we have no higher purpose for the fasting we endure, our fasting is not a discipline at all.

Fasting is a form of penance. It atones for our sins. It throws us out of self-centeredness. It cultivates in us a sense of sin and its consequences.

Penance involves some difficulty. The graver the sin committed, the graver the penance required. The greater the penance is, the greater the difficulty it involves. Where there is no difficulty, there is no penance.

Fasting is a form of sacrifice. It is an offering. It is defined by what is given up. But it is validated by how the giving up is done.

Sacrifice always hurts. True sacrifice always hurts even more. And total sacrifice always hurts most.

Discipline, penance, and sacrifice – quite often, for most of us, are what we associate with fasting. Thus, fasting is often understood as a struggle, a commandment, and a burden. But fasting is definitely more than what we give up and how we give up. It should also tell why we give up.

Fasting is a form of communion. We fast to be more in commune with our Creator. We fast to be better configured to the suffering and glorified Christ. We fast to be closer with others, most especially with those for whom fasting is never an option but a daily lot.

Fasting for the sake of one’s self is not fasting at all. When our fasting isolates us from others, we need to question the truth about our fasting. When our fasting fails to teach us greater charity and deep solidarity with others, we have to question the value of our fasting. When our fasting divides rather than unites, we must question the sincerity of our fasting. For when our fasting is real, valuable, and sincere, communion with our Creator, with Jesus, and among us is not only possible but is inevitable as well.

Fast, but be sure that we always know why we fast. And where is best to know the reason for our fasting? The prophet Hosea in the First Reading today (Hos 2:16-17, 21-22) tells us where: in the wilderness.

Through the prophet Hosea, the Lord tells us that it is in the wilderness that He speaks to our heart. But what is the wilderness?

The wilderness is a place of silence. When it is silent, we can hear better. If we wish to hear the Lord speak to us, let us go into the wilderness with Him. Wilderness is silence.

The wilderness is a place of solitude. When we are alone, we can refocus our selves on the values we truly hold dear to our hearts. If we wish to re-orient our selves so as to keep our selves rooted in the Lord, let us meet Him in the wilderness. Wilderness is solitude.

The wilderness is a place of prayer. When we pray, we are in the Lord’s presence. If we wish to experience the Lord, let us give in to Him who allures us into the wilderness. Wilderness is prayer.

The wilderness is not so much a place we arrive at, as it is a condition we enter into. It is when we are silent, when we are most alone, but not necessarily lonely, and when we are absorbed in deep prayer.

The wilderness is not out there in some desert. It is right inside our hearts. It is not where no water runs. It is where rivers of living water flow. Wilderness is the silence that gives depth to our character, the solitude that tames our basic instincts, and the prayer that attunes us to God. And it is right there where we can honestly answer the $64 question of the day: Why fast?

KEEP YOUR CHILD ALIVE

Saturday in the 7th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 10:13-16

Most of us, if not all, have been taught to pray early in life. It is part of growing up in most families for a child to learn how to pray. Our first “Angel of God, my guardian dear…” was welcomed with joy. When we said our first “Our Father, in heaven…” our parents beamed with pride before our audience. It always warms our hearts to see a little child pray. But the most touching prayer any child can say is the one that comes straight from its own heart, not memorized, traditional prayers, but that which spontaneously flows from the lips. It still is even for adults.

One the one hand, the Lord refers to children in the Gospel today regarding entering the Kingdom of God. St. James, on the other hand, reminds us in the First Reading (Jas 5:13-20) about the power of prayer. What links these two readings for today?

Our prayer is more powerful if we carry a childlike attitude before God. Childlike attitude is one of innate confidence, sincerity, and spontaneity before its parents. We must have the same attitude towards God. He is our Father, did not Jesus say? We are His children. Prayer is our communication, our dialogue, and our chat with our Father.

How do we pray? Do we talk to God with childlike trust? Or as adults, do we approach Him with pessimism or even cynicism that the wounds of our personal history infect us with? Do we listen to God with the heart of a child? Or do we dismiss God as a nice character in fairytales?

No matter how advanced we have become in years, in wisdom, and in experience, before God, who is our Father, we must remain children. We have to maintain an attitude of confidence, sincerity, and spontaneity towards Father God.

How truly blest children are! They may have little wisdom and sophistication but they have so much faith and simplicity. And it is faith and simplicity that opens the floodgates of grace to us.

Be like the little children. Be childlike, not childish though. Be a son or a daughter to God today, tomorrow, and always.

ADULTERY -- FOR ADULTS ONLY?

Friday in the Seventh Week of the Ordinary Time
Mark 10:1-12

It sometimes puzzles me why adultery is called “adultery”. Is it because only adults can commit such a sin? Is it because such a moral offense can be committed only against an adult? Think for a while, why is adultery called “adultery”?

One of the canonical forms required by the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony is free consent. Consent is free when it is an informed decision arrived at without any coercion or deception. The Catholic Church holds that a marriage contracted without free consent is an invalid marriage. Even if the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony has already been celebrated and nuptial vows have been actually exchanged between the bride and the groom, the marriage apparently contracted is null and void right from the start. This is really what so called “Church annulment” of marriages is trying to say when it declares a marriage to be null and void.

Adults, as compared to children and adolescents, are presumed to be fully capable to giving free consent. While this may not sound very theological and canonical, infidelity in a validly contracted marriage may be regarded as a sin against the integrity of one’s adulthood. You may find this amusing, but give it a thought. Adultery is violating the sanctity of your adult life and all the faculties and privileges you enjoy as an adult.

St. James (Jas 5:9-12), complimenting well the Gospel today, teaches us a valuable lesson in giving our consent as adults. We have to mean what we say. We must always be sincere with our consent. ‘Yes’ is ‘yes’ and ‘no’ is ‘no’ for an adult. Otherwise, we bring judgment upon us.

Fidelity is the antithesis of adultery. One does not need to be an adult to be faithful. But one has to be an adult to commit adultery. Yet still, one does not have to be married to be adulterous. Did not Jesus say, “Anyone who looks lustfully at a woman has already committed adultery in his heart?” It appears that it is not marriage that defines adultery. It is fidelity to the Lord who transforms us from adolescents to adults. Fidelity to the Lord dictates that we remain always true, honest, and sincere whether we are children or adults, single or married, man or woman.

PANDESAL

Thursday in the Seventh Week of the Ordinary Time
Mark 9:41-50

The price of the Filipino bread, pandesal, is often the gauge of economic inflation. When I was a little boy, a pandesal cost only twenty-five centavos each. Today, I lost track of its price but I suppose you cannot buy a pandesal for a quarter of a peso. When we were minor seminarians, the quantity and size of pandesal served to us at the refectory was some sort of an economic forecast for us. In freshman high school, we received two medium size pandesal every morning. In sophomore, it became large but only one pandesal. In junior through senior year, the ration remained one pandesal is to one seminarian, but its size decreased steadily until it became extra small.

The word “pandesal“ is a combination of the Spanish words “pan”, “de”, and “sal”. “Pandesal” means “bread of salt” or “bread from salt” or “salted bread”. Is salt an ingredient of the bread that is why when served hot it really tastes heavenly?

Pandesal used to be a very affordable even to the poor man. Can it be compared with barley bread as against wheat bread? It is not a croissant, a doughnut, or a rye bread, and therefore it is a common feature in a poor man’s breakfast table. As the price of pandesal rose through the years, the poverty of the common man became even more evident. Even pandesal nowadays is expensive. The poor man has indeed become poorer. While the rich man has a choice among a number of pastries to feast, the poor man has to divide a small pandesal among his starving children.

Is it the price of salt that makes the pandesal expensive today? But a pandesal is not a pandesal if it were all flour and no salt. Without salt, it would only be “pan”, and you miss the heavenly taste it gives when served hot with butter. Thus, the “sal” in the “pan” is important, even indispensable.

Our poor lives may be compared with the pandesal. It is our “saltiness” that makes us pleasing to the divine palate. Our lives may be poor but we should not lose that which makes us treasures in the hands of the Lord. We may have nothing but if we keep our good flavor, the Lord makes something out of us. In the Lord’s hands, we are never worthless, unless we make our selves so by becoming “tasteless”.

While the First Reading today (Jas 5:1-6) warns the rich against oppressing and exploiting the poor, the Gospel today warns the poor against accumulating other ingredients in life that makes life distasteful for God. It is better to remain poor in the hands of the Lord rather than become rich in the ways of the world. It is better to be a handicapped made whole by the Lord rather than a capable struck down by the Lord.

The price of pandesal keeps on rising while its size continues to shrink. But salt remains; otherwise, it is not pandesal. We remain poor in the ways of the world while many become rich through worldly ways. But we take care not to lose our flavor for the divine favor; otherwise, we are truly poor.

STRANGE CHAIR

Feast of the Chair of St. Peter
Matthew 16:13-19

The feast today is rather strange. We celebrate a chair?

Today’s liturgy is called the “Feast of the Chair of St. Peter.” The feast is as strange as the choice made as to who first sat on that “chair”.

The first to sit on the chair we give honor today is Peter, an uneducated fisherman from Bethsaida. He was an unlikely choice for a president of a country or a chairman of the board for a global organization. But he was God’s choice to be the prince of the apostles and the visible head of the Church. Such choice was easily evident to Jesus as Jesus Himself said after Peter’s declaration of faith, “Blest are you, Simon son of Jonah, because it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you but my Father in heaven.” Thus, Jesus conferred on Peter, “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of hell can never hold out against it….”

Peter was God’s choice. And God’s choices are often strange to us who are rather more familiar with the ways of the world.

But the chair of Peter is not Peter’s chair. It is God’s chair on which He made Peter sit. It is not a chair made or bought by Peter for himself. Just as the choice of Peter was God’s so does the chair we now remember is His.

What is this chair all about? Perhaps, a simple illustration will help explain what this chair means.

When you have something very important to discuss with a friend, do you prefer to sit or stand? When you teach a child a vital lesson in life, do you discuss it with him while standing up or sitting down? Do we not have the expression, “Come, let us sit and talk a while”?

The chair is symbolic of two things. On the one hand, dialogue. On the other, pedagogy. We sit to discuss. We also sit to teach.

The Chair of St. Peter symbolizes two of the tasks that Peter and his successors, the popes, have. The pope should be an effective agent towards dialogue and a tireless teacher of the truths of the Kingdom. Sitting on that “Chair” does not, therefore, in anyway mean lording over the others. In sitting on the Chair of St. Peter is to be the servant of all, a servant of dialogue, a servant of the Truth, a servant of the Lord.

There is a funny story I once was told by a priest from Bukidnon. When Archbishop Gaudencio B. Rosales became bishop of Malaybalay, Bukidnon, he tried to speak some Cebuano to the local faithful during one of his first Masses. He said, “Ani-a ako aron maglingkod kaninyo.” For half a second there was silence in the cathedral; then, laughter accompanied by a warm round of applause. The good archbishop spoke in Cebuano but mixed it with the Tagalog word, “maglingkod”. “Maglingkod” in Cebuano means, “to sit down”. Thus, when translated the words of the good archbishop literally meant “I am here to sit down on you.” Certainly, it was not what Archbishop Rosales wanted to convey. It was a mistake, of course. But the good archbishop served the Diocese of Malaybalay well, even risking his life in the fight against illegal logging, not sitting down but moving about and bending low on several instances as he dialogues and teaches.

A chair is such a strange symbol of service. But perhaps not, if we think of service as the real meaning of being chosen by God to occupy His seat.

DREAM BIG!

Tuesday in the 7th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 9:30-37

When I was a little boy and people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grow up, my quick answer was, “When I grow up I want to be an astronaut.” Literally, my I had a high ambition, so high that it would require a journey of light years away! I dreamt of riding a spaceship and conquering some distant planet. High ambition, great dream!

The Lord had a different dream for me. But it did not mean His was a dream lesser than mine. The truth is, the Lord’s dream for me is even greater. He wanted me to conquer not only some unknown planet but as many souls as possible for His kingdom. As history has it, He called me and chose me to be His priest, His servant, His persona-in-mundi, , an alter Christus, “another Him”. Highest ambition, greatest dream!

I had to learn dreaming God’s dream for my self. I continue learning because I continue having dreams to greatness.

It is not bad to dream big. It is not a sin to aspire for greatness. What is bad is when our heads grow bigger because of our ambition. What is immoral is when great aspirations make us lord it over those whom the world considers less.

Dream for God and you will dream with Him. Then you will be great indeed. Word for God and you will serve others with Him. Then you will be happy.

Our happiness truly lies not in being greater than the other man. Peace comes from being in harmony with God’s will in our life. Why be great in the judgment of the world when we know that the world is imperfect and its judgment fallible? Aspire to be great in the eyes of the Lord and the Lord will lift you high. St. James, in the First Reading today, reminds us that the Lord exalts the humble. Jesus, in the Gospel today, teaches us what humility is all about.

Jesus’ idea of greatness is a total reversal of the world’s definition of the same. While the world considers great those that are served – and the more servants you have, the greater you are – Jesus measures greatness by service to the least, the last and the lost. Because in His kingdom the last is actually the first, the more lowly the kind of service that a person renders others the more highly that person is in the Lord’s infallible estimation.

The Lord wants us to be great. Let us be great then! The Lord determines greatness by service. Let us serve then! The Lord looks for humility in the service we do. Let us be humble then!

Can the Lord’s dream for us be greater and better that our dreams for our selves?

WHAT TRULY CONQUERS EVIL?

Monday in the 7th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mark 9:14-29

Holiness is the perfection of charity. The more loving we are, the more holy we are. Holiness is not the result of kneeling the whole day inside the church. Sore knees, not holiness is what you get from kneeling the whole day inside the church. Holiness is the fruit of loving prayer and loving deeds combined.

When we are holy, the devil is afraid of us. Of course, he continues to tempt us so that we may fall into sin and be unholy. But strip the devil of his mask and you will see a frightened monster, cowing in the presence of a holy man.

This is the experience of Jesus, the Holy One of God. The Gospel today paints this picture in dramatic strokes. Not obtaining what he expected from the apostles, a father brought his son who was possessed by an evil spirit to Jesus. The moment the evil spirit saw Jesus, it threw the boy into convulsions, and, falling to the ground, the possessed foamed at the mouth. The evil spirit wanted to frighten Jesus and the people around Him. But no fear conquers a truly holy man. Holiness rather conquers all fear. Love conquers all. And holiness is the perfection of love.

The apostles failed to free the boy from demonic possession because their holiness was not equal to the strong force of the evil spirit. They yet had to learn what true holiness meant. They yet had to be perfected in love. Their love had to become perfected still.

If we want to free the world from evil, we must strive to be holy. We have to continue loving until our love is made perfect. The reason why there is so much evil in the world is because there is not enough love in the world. Because there is so much insincerity in our love, there is little holiness around us. Because there is little holiness around us there is so much evil in the world

Let us love and we will be holy. Let us be holy by loving. No matter how small our corner in this world, provided we keep on loving, there will always be a corner in this world where evil cannot thrive. Each day, let us conquer evil. Each day, let us love. Each day, let us be holy.

HEALING IS FORGIVING

7th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mk 2:1-12


Jesus, in the Gospel today, said to His critics, “Why do you have these thoughts in your hearts? Which of these is easier to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or ‘Get up, pick up your stretcher and walk?’” When He said thus, He did not mean it was easier to assure the paralytic the forgiveness of his sins because doing so required only a few words and therefore a shorter sentence than convincing everyone that the paralytic had been healed by ordering him to rise, to get his mat and to begin walking. Jesus’ point was that it was easier for the paralytic to be forgiven from his sins even when it was seemingly difficult for the same man to be released from his handicap. The Prophet Isaiah, in the First Reading today, tells us why. Isaiah delivers the divine message to us: “Thus says the Lord: No need to recall the past, no need to think about what was done before. I it is, I it is, who must blot out everything and not remember your sins.”

Without meaning the God desires healing less than forgiveness, it is easier to obtain His forgiveness because He has already forgiven us. All we need to do is confess our guilt, ask for mercy and accept His forgiveness through our Savior, Jesus Christ. That is the Good News! St. Paul in his second letter to the Corinthians, telling us that “however many the promises God made, the ‘Yes’ to them all is in Him,” assures us that God is not fickle-minded with His word of forgiveness.

It was more important to be reconciled with God rather than be restored to physical health. Although our physical well-being is important to God, our salvation is paramount. Vitality comes from within. When we are right with God, the rest follows. Vital signs are precisely signs of what cannot be seen: the human soul.

Among the group of people mentioned to have harbored ill thoughts about Jesus’ healing of the paralytic were the scribes. Not seldom does Jesus call the scribes, together with the Pharisees, “hypocrites.” The scribes and the Pharisees give more importance to what is outside rather than to what is truly inside a man. Their obsession with externalities made them fall so easily into hypocrisy. They are overly concern to appear physically whole while in truth many of them are spiritually ill. The healing of the paralytic was a parable that they, among others, must first learn. We, too, are its students.

Let us ask for forgiveness. Let us beg for healing. Healing will come through forgiveness.

DEAD-END OR LIFE-BEND?

Saturday in the 6th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 9:2-13

It depends on how we look at them, mountains can be dead-ends or life-bends. As dead-ends, mountains are block our sight and hinder us from moving on. As life-bends, mountains mean better view and pushing further.

Jesus never considered mountains as dead-ends. They are always life-bends for Him. He did not stop at the foot of any mountain, curse it, and say, “If only this mountain is not here I would be able to move on.” Instead, Jesus climbed every mountain, often praying on top of it and then continuing in His journey towards His destiny to die and rise for the life of the world. Today He conquered another mountain: Mount Tabor.

With His closest among the Twelve, Jesus went on top of Mount Tabor. While absorbed in prayer, He was transfigured before their very eyes. His clothes shone dazzlingly white, whiter than any bleacher could make them. Then suddenly appeared, one at His left and the other at His right, Moses and Elijah, conversing with Him. Simon Peter, the most outspoken not only of the three who were with Jesus but among all the Twelve, could no contain his excitement and blurted out, “Rabbi, it is good to be here; so let us make three tents, one for You, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Thereupon, overshadowed them and a voice was heard from the cloud, “This is My Son, the Beloved. Listen to Him.” Then, as sudden as it came upon them so did the experience was over.

It all happened on top of a mountain, on top of what the three disciples could have considered a roadblock, a dead-end, and a hindrance to moving on. Did any of them raise an opposition to the idea of climbing that mountain and instead suggested that they rather go around it? We do not know. The Gospel is silent about it. But, certainly, they would go where Jesus goes. To the top of Mount Tabor, Jesus went; thus, to the top of Mount Tabor, they went with Jesus. And on top of Mount Tabor, they experienced the divinity of Jesus in a way the others did not. Seeing His glory, they were left with jaws hanging low for they were so amazed.

The mountain, however, was not meant to be their permanent address with Jesus. It was an important part of their journey, but, still, just a part. They had to move on, but they did not have to move on anymore with uncertainty about the real identity of the One who led the way. With the boost in their morale, they had to face with Jesus the road that leads to Calvary.

That mountain was not a dead-end after all. It was an important bend along the way. But what about the mountains in our own lives? Well, it depends on how you look at a mountain. You may want to try looking at it with the eyes of Jesus.

A CROSS-LESS CHRIST AND A CHRIST-LESS CROSS?

Friday in the 6th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 8:34-9:1

Take away the word “Christ” from the word “Christian” and we are left with the letters i, a, and n. The letters i, a, and n rightly stand for “I am nothing”. Indeed, without Christ, we are nothing. Christ is our everything.

Christ, however, comes with a cross. There is no cross-less Christ just as there is there should be no Christ-less cross. Accepting Christ is accepting His cross. Accepting our cross should always be accepting Christ as well. It cannot be otherwise. It should not be otherwise.

A cross-less Christ is a phony. It is a fake Christ. It is not Christ at all.

A Christ-less cross is a burden, nothing else. It is suffering without grace. It is not the cross that Christ requires us to carry each day.

What kind of a Christ do we follow? What kind of a cross do we bear? The answer is clearly seen in way we live our lives.

SATAN CAN BE VERY FRIENDLY

Thursday in the 6th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 8:27-33

Peter meant Jesus no harm. All he wanted was for Jesus to be safe from all harm. Yet, Jesus reprimanded him. Jesus even called Peter “Satan”.

One moment Jesus was praising Peter because Peter recognized Him as the Christ. The next moment, hardly a breath away, Jesus was scolding Peter because Peter failed to accept His mission was to suffer, die, and rise again after three days. The first moment was a moment of faith. The second moment was a moment of fear.

Fear is the enemy of faith. Fear creates doubts. Satan sows fear in our hearts. Satan is our enemy.

“Satan” is not a proper name, as your name and mine are. “Satan” means “adversary”. He is our enemy, one who leads us astray and accuses us before God after doing so. Thus, anything or anyone that hinders us from fulfilling God’s will is a Satan to us. Satan does not necessarily have to be something repulsive or hostile at first sight. Satan can be something attractive and friendly on the surface. Yes, a friend can be “Satan” too if he or she causes us to be out of focus in our desire and effort to obey God always. Thus, Peter, though one of Jesus’ closest friends, was called “Satan” in the Gospel today.

Not all our friends who shield us from pain are true friends. There are pains that are necessary for us to endure because of our obedience to God. Over-protecting us from such pains is not friendship. It is what we call “temptation”. A friend who tempts us is not a friend but a Satan.

THE VILLAGE

Wednesday in the 6th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 8:22-26

Sin is spiritual blindness. If sin is refusing God, the man who sins must be blind to the truth that he cannot live without him.

I do not doubt that the healing of the blind man in the Gospel today really did happen. But applying it to our lives, the lesson of the episode transcends physical or biological healing.

We, too, are blind when we sin. The Lord comes and touches us with His love. His loving touch heals us from our spiritual blindness. But when we have been healed, we should not forget His very important advice: “Do not go even into the village.”

“Do not go even into the village” – these were the words of Jesus to the man whose sight He restored. These are also His words to us whenever He restores us to grace. But what does “village” here means?

For the blind man, “village” means the place where he was once blind. It was more than a spot in a map. It was the whole condition he was in: darkness. It was the environment he moved about: darkness. It was handicap he suffered from: darkness.

For us, “village” means the occasions, the places, and even the people that once led him to sin, to his spiritual blindness. Once restored to grace, we should strive not to return to our former sinful ways. Unless we are strong enough to resist the temptations that once led us to sin, we need to stay away from the occasions, the places, and the people that can cause us to backslide. Otherwise, even if the Lord touches us twice, as He did to the blind man today, we will lose our sight again.

IF HE EVER DID EXIST AT ALL

Memorial of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, Pastors
Lk 10:1-9

Today is Valentines Day, but, please, give me a break, it is not the feast of St. Valentines today. There is no St. Valentine who existed. There is a preparatory school within my parish named after a certain “St. Valentine”, and I cannot help but feel annoyed each time I see it. Valentines Day is not a liturgical feast because there is no St. Valentine.

However, the message of Valentines Day is certainly along the lines of the Gospel call to love one another. The only difference is that the Gospel speaks of agape while Valentines Day, more often than not, highlights eros. Agape is a higher degree of love than eros. Eros is physical love while agape goes even beyond the physical. Because it is physical love, eros is not lasting as physical attraction may sooner or later fade away. What a pity if people love each other simply because they are physically attracted to each other. That is not love at all! Not that eros is bad or sinful, it simply must transcend itself and reach agape if love is to last till death and, yes, beyond the grave.

Christian love is agape. It is the love between brethren. It is the love that exists beyond physical attraction. A person may not be physically attracted to another person, but still truly loves that person. Remember Bl. Teresa of Calcutta? She is agape personified. She herself confessed that the sight and stench of leprosy did not attract her, and yet she reached out, embraced, bathed, fed, and served the leprous. Bl. Teresa herself was not a beauty queen, but we like looking at her pictures. She was not beautiful, but she was lovely. The reason is she continues personifying agape well beyond her passing away. But Bl. Teresa’s love, no matter how great it was, was merely an approximation of the love of Jesus Christ. She loved as Jesus loved, for the command given us by Christ was not only that we love one another but also that we love one another as He loved us.

The lives of holy men and women, like Bl. Teresa of Calcutta and the brothers, Cyril and Methodius, who spent their lives for the evangelization of the Slavic people and whose memories we celebrate today, show us that agape, while more difficult than eros, is possible, meaningful, and lasting. But Valentines? I have yet to read what he did for humanity…if he ever did exist at all.

SO HELP ME, ME

Monday in the 6th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 8:11-13

I wonder why we need to swear in a courtroom when we take the witness stand. Not that we may not swear inside a courtroom; not that we cannot swear while taking the witness stand; rather, we need not swear at all! If only we were only always truthful. Is it the courtroom that makes the witness credible? Is it the witness stand that makes the witness truthful? Is it the witness oath that makes the witness trustworthy?

Because experience shows that we are capable of deceiving and being deceived, we are required to swear before we take the stand. Perhaps, had we not learnt to fabricate stories, discovered the art of false accusation, developed the skill of twisting the truth, we would not have to resort to making oaths to be credible. If we were always honest, who would need to swear oaths?

Jesus alone can make His word stand on its own. He is His word. Who He is and what He says are one. He is who and what He says He is.

Jesus is both the reality that signifies and the signified reality. He is sign and signified all together simultaneously. He is the sign of God’s love for us but He Himself is God’s love for us made visible. He is the sign of God’s presence but He Himself is the presence of God in our midst. He is the sign of God’s power but He Himself is the power of God at work in and through us. So what else is left to signify when He who is signified is actually already revealed?

The first problematic about the demand of the Pharisees in the Gospel today is that the Pharisees demand a sign from Jesus for Jesus. They want Jesus to prove Himself when Jesus Himself is the proof. Thus, no sign is given them.

The second problematic is that motive behind the demand of the Pharisees is deceptive. They ask Jesus for a sign because they are testing Jesus. They are trying to trap Him so that they can have an accusation to throw against Jesus.

The third problematic is that it is not really a sign that the Pharisees want from Jesus. What they really want from Him is a proof. They are trying to provoke Jesus to prove Himself. Now, a sign is not the same as a proof. A proof may be a sign but a sign is not necessarily a proof. Take for example, smoke signifies fire but fire does not prove smoke. Fire produces smoke and smoke testifies to fire.

The Pharisees are not at all candid with their demand. They are insincere and dishonest about their really motive. Even if given a sign, the Pharisees will not believe. For those who believe, no sign is needed; for those who refuse to believe, no sign will be enough.

If Jesus were to take the witness stand in a case against Himself, He would not need to swear. He is always truthful and, therefore, trustworthy. It would certainly sound funny to hear Jesus take the witness oath: “I promise to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. So help me, ME!”

THE LEPER THAT TAUNTS US

6th Sunday of the Ordinary Time
Mark 1: 40-45

We communicate not only by what we say. We also communicate by how we say what we say. The tone of our voice is very much important in determining the precise meaning of what we want to put across. Take for example the Gospel we have today. A leper approaches Jesus and says, “If you wish, you can make me clean.” What exactly does the leper mean?

Depending on the tone of his voice, the words of the leprous man may have four possible meanings. First, the leper may be expressing profound belief in the healing power of Jesus. Perhaps, the words “If You wish, You can make me clean” is a sincere profession of the leper’s personal faith in Jesus. He is saying that he believes that Jesus can heal him from leprosy. This first meaning is the most frequently and most widely accepted meaning of the leper’s declaration.

The second possible meaning shifts the focus from the leprous man to Jesus the Healer. Maybe the leper is, in fact, trying to help Jesus discover that He has the power to heal. The leprous man is actually telling Jesus that Jesus can heal and can heal even the most dreaded disease such as leprosy. “If You wish, You can make me clean” may be the same with “Go ahead, Jesus, You can do it. Don’t worry, You can cure me.” This kind of interpretation of the statement of the leprous man in the Gospel today sounds awkward, but remains possible nonetheless.

The third possible meaning of the same scriptural passage puts the leper even more superior to Jesus. By his words, “If You wish, You can make me clean,” the leper is giving Jesus the permission, the freedom, and the opportunity to heal him from leprosy. The leper is allowing Jesus to enter into the privacy of his leprous condition, to touch him in the core of his vulnerability, to mind him who is considered by Jewish religion and society an outcast. After all, healing happens only when he who is afflicted allows the healer to heal him. Understanding the words of the leper to Jesus this way appeals to those who really reflect deeply on the Gospel today because it gives importance to the role that the afflicted plays in his or her eventual healing.

The fourth meaning is the most disturbing. Can it be that, by his declaration “If You wish, You can make me clean,” the leper is taunting Jesus? Is there any sarcasm in the tone of the leper’s voice? Notice that the if is placed before the phrase “You wish”, not before the words “You can make me clean”. Very clearly, the leper does not doubt the healing power of Jesus: he says, “If You wish, You can make me clean” and not “If You can make me clean, wish it”. While certain about the healing power of Jesus, can it be possible that the leper doubts Jesus’ goodwill? The leper’s statement almost sounds like a question rather than a declaration. It sounds like he is questioning Jesus’ goodwill to heal Him. Perhaps, the years of being a religious and social outcast, already taught the leper the painful lesson that no one will ever bother about him, that no one will ever care enough about him, that no one, who is in his right mind, will ever give a damn about him and his misery. Thus, when someone like Jesus comes along, while faith inspires him to approach Jesus, the cynicism he has developed regarding the sincerity of any good doer cannot be easily conquered by him.

“If you wish, you can cure me” – what does it really mean? What is behind the declaration of the leprous man in the Gospel today? Is he professing faith? Is he encouraging Jesus, sort of cheering for Him, to use His power to heal? Is he giving permission to Jesus to touch and cure him? Or is he taunting Jesus because he doubts human sympathy and even, perhaps, divine compassion?

The leper’s words move us to reflect on two things: what we wish and what we can.

What do we wish? What can we? Ano ang nais natin? Ano ang kaya natin? Ano ang gusto natin? Ano ang gagawin natin?

What we wish and what we can are not always the same. Sometimes we wish for something that we are incapable of. Worse, we wish for something we are not even willing to work for, to sacrifice for, to stand for. There is a wide gap between our wishing and our doing. For example, we wish for peace but do we make peace? We wish to be forgiven as many times as we need forgiveness yet can we forgive all our enemies? We wish to be good but can we readily kick a bad habit? We wish a better life but can we let go of our selfish agenda? We wish progress; can we make sacrifices?

The other way around is also true. There are occasions when what we are capable of does not count among our great dreams. We can forgive but we rather not. We can give but we rather take. We can become heroes but we rather aspire to become celebrities. We can become great saints but we rather wish to become lukewarm in Faith. We can help but we rather not get involved because becoming involved means taking risks.

In the Gospel today, there is no doubt that Jesus can heal the leprous man. The beautiful thing about the same Gospel is that there is also no doubt that Jesus wishes to heal the same leper. What Jesus is capable of doing, Jesus wishes to do. What Jesus wishes to do, Jesus actually does. Hence, His reply to the leper: “Of course, I do will it. Be cured.”

In everyday life, we do not always encounter a leper along the way. But there are many other “lepers” we meet each day. They are the outcasts of society, those looked down upon not because they are physically deformed but because they are spiritually and morally depraved. There are also others who are not leprous but, just the same, are in need of our attention, compassion and care. We come to know who they are when our eyes meet theirs and we hear in our hearts again the words: “If you wish, you can cure me.”

How do their words sound to us? Are they expressions of belief in us, of hope in us? Are they words of encouragement for us to make use of our gifts for the sake of others? Are they affirmations that tell us that we can be compassionate, to be loving, to be heroic, to become a saint, if only we really want to? Or are those words taunting us, doubting your good will: “You can cure me but do you really wish it?”

Remember a “leper” in your life, in your mind look straight into his eyes and, with your heart, listen to what he says and how he says it. Let us be silent; and if in our silence, we feel uncomfortable seeing and hearing this “leper”, perhaps he or she is indeed taunting us.

A PILGRIMAGE TO HEALING

Memorial of Our Lady of Lourdes
Jn 2:1-11

The Gospel today is particular to the memorial we celebrate every 11th of February. Today marks the first of the eighteen apparitions of the Blessed Mother, who introduced herself as the “Immaculate Conception”, to a sickly, illiterate, peasant girl named, Bernadette Soubirous, at the banks of the river Gave in Lourdes, France, from February to July of 1858. Through Bernadette, the Blessed Mother called upon the people to convert from sin, pray always, and practice deeds of charity towards one another. She sent Bernadette to the local pastor with the instruction that she wanted to have a chapel built right on the spot where she appeared and that a procession be held in her honor. Asking Bernadette to dig on a dry spot near the grotto, the Blessed Mother likewise gave to the world the miraculous spring of Lourdes where many continue to obtain healing even up until today.

As pilgrims continue to flock at Lourdes, the word “Lourdes” is already synonymous with the word “healing”. Many who are sick and handicapped go to Lourdes to take a bath or drink from its miraculous spring. Countless of them testify to the miraculous healing they received from doing so. Still many, however, return to their homes without being healed from their illnesses or handicap.

There are two kinds of healing: physical and spiritual. Physical healing is verified by medical science while spiritual healing is attested to by conversion of life. It is said that while not all who go to Lourdes are healed physically, no one returns from Lourdes without receiving spiritual healing. That makes the pilgrimage truly worth making whether it heals the sick from his or her physical or biological infirmities or not. After all, physical healing is always temporary; for our bodies may be healed now but eventually, they will still have to return to the dust of which they are made. Spiritual healing, on the contrary, lasts beyond the grave because it affects not only the body but the soul as well. Thus, if given a choice between physical healing and spiritual healing, the latter is always better than the former.

What kind of healing do we pray for? Bathing in or drinking from the miraculous spring at Lourdes may heal us physically, but spiritual healing may be obtained without fail even without going to Lourdes. All we need to do is make a pilgrimage to the confessional and, as the Blessed Mother says in the Gospel today, “Do whatever He (Jesus) tells you.”

DO WE NEED A STORM?

Memorial of St. Scholastica, Virgin
Lk 10:38-42

The Gospel today that paints for us the picture of Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, sitting at the feet of Jesus, attentively listening to the Lord, is very appropriate for the memorial of St. Scholastica. Scholastica spent her life contemplating the Lord as the first Benedictine nun. She lived a life of listening to Jesus in the solitude of monastic life.

Born in 480, Scholastica was the twin sister of St. Benedict, the Father of Western monasticism. Benedict used to come annually to visit her. During Benedict’s visit in 547, it was said that just when Benedict was about to leave, Scholastica, wanting to hear more of her brother’s wise and holy teachings, prayed that a storm would force him to stay longer. The storm came and Benedict had no choice but to postpone his departure until the storm subsided. Three days after his visit, Benedict saw a dove flew to heaven and immediately realized that Scholastica passed away from this life to the next. This seemingly little incident reminds us of the precious gift of one another’s presence. Our presence is the best gift we can give to anyone. It is a gift of the self, and the time spent in the giving is a gift in itself that cannot and can never be taken back by the giver.

The same presence was Mary’s gift to the Lord. It was the best compared to Martha’s choice. Martha’s preoccupation in serving the Lord was a better part than doing nothing for Jesus. But Mary’s choice to listen to what Jesus had to say was certainly the best, for what the Lord wants to tell us is infinitely more significant than what we want to do for Him. The height of true spirituality is not when we are busy thinking, planning, organizing, mobilizing, and accomplishing a project for the Lord, no matter how wonderful and praiseworthy our project is. The apex of holiness is when we allow the Lord to work in us. This peak of religious experience is reached only when we make our selves empty of everything so that Jesus can fill us up.

There can be no presence greater than the Lord’s. There is no gift more precious than the Lord’s presence. In response, there can be no gift more fitting to be given the Lord than our precious presence too. We do not need to pray for a storm to make that offering, do we?

KAPIT SA PATALIM

Thursday in the 5th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 7:24-30

Have you ever been in dire need? Have you ever experienced needing something or someone badly? No, not only badly, but VERY BADLY!

Is there anything you have which when compared with your need is puny and therefore may be compromised? What is that which you can endure in exchange for something you cannot bear not having? What are you ready to loose in favor of something to gain?

Kapit sa patalim – this is what we, Filipinos, call something to which a person in dire need resort to. Have you already found yourself resorting to kapit sa patalim? Have you risked clinging unto the dagger by its blade? Has anyone already approached you in this situation? Have you dared extend to others the blade rather than its handle? Do you bleed if only to live? Do you live by making others bleed?

The Syrophoenician woman in the Gospel today may be resorting to kapit sa patalim when she approached Jesus, who was not only a man but also a Jew. During Jesus’ time, women were not allowed to talk to men in public, unless they were of kindred. Moreover, Jews look down upon gentiles, and Syrophoenicians were gentiles. But because she was in dire need for her daughter’s healing, the Syrophoenician nonetheless tried “to cling even unto the blade of the dagger”. But the blade of the dagger was not extended to her. She was given its handle: Faith.

Faith against all odds is like the handle of a dagger. It can pierce the heart of God.

BE CAREFUL

Wednesday in the 5th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 7:14-23

We are very careful with what gets into us. Are we as careful with what gets out of us? We are very cautious with what we take. Are we as cautious with what we give? We are very sensitive with what enters into us. Are we as sensitive with what comes out of us?

Jesus said that it is not what enters a man that makes a man unclean but what comes out of him that defiles him. Therefore, should we not be careful with what we say just as we are careful with what we listen to? Must we not be cautious of what we teach just as we are cautious of what we are taught? Ought we not be vigilant about what we practice just was we are attentive to what we believe in? Following Jesus’ logic in the Gospel today, we should. We must. We ought to.

If we are very careful so as not to entertain gossipers in our company, we should not be gossipers ourselves. If we are very cautious so as not to patronize false teaches, we must not be heretics ourselves. If we are very sensitive with hypocrites, we ought to be truthful ourselves.

It is not what we entertain that makes us good. It is what we entertain others with that can make us evil. It is not what we patronize that makes us righteous. It is how we patronize that can turn us into heretics or fanatics. It is never hypocrisy that brings us to heaven. Instead, practicing what we preach can lead us there.

So, what gets out of us? What do we give? What comes out of us? Just as a tree is judged by its fruits, so shall we be judged by our produce.

ALIBI

Tuesday in the 5th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 7:1-13

Alibi, according to the English dictionary, is an excuse, especially a poor and flimsy excuse. An alibi is given when threatened and cornered by the truth. It is a defense mechanism. We do not need an alibi if we are constantly and consistently truthful, do we?

We give alibis for almost anything. We use almost anything as an alibi. Sadly, sometimes, we use people as alibis. Worst, consciously or unconsciously, we use God as an alibi. This was the contention of Jesus against the Pharisees in the Gospel today. The Pharisees would always have an alibi to suit their ways and still felt righteous before God and man. They would give alibis instead of the truth. Oftentimes, we are not any better than the Pharisees.

Why do we miss Sunday Mass? Because we there is so much chores to be done at home or elsewhere. Alibi. But there are Masses every hour on Sundays, and there is even a vigil Masses on Saturday or what we commonly call “Anticipated Sunday Masses”. Why do we not attend Mass in our own parish church? Because the parish church is quite far from our residence. Alibi. Is not the Mass a sacrifice, not merely a meal? Pope Benedict XIII expresses that we seem to have forgotten the sacrificial aspect of our Sunday fellowship. Why do we seldom go to confession and yet profess that we love Jesus? Many reason out that priests who hear confession and absolve sin are sinners like the rest of humanity. Alibi. Who says the priests are not sinners anyway, and yet they have been entrusted by the Lord with the precious gift of forgiving their fellow sinners in His name? Why are we rather slow in helping the Church in her financial needs? Because the Church is already rich, many say. Alibi. But are we not the Church? Why do we not give alms? Because giving alms teaches the beggar to be lazy. Alibi. God gives us our daily bread; does He make us lazy? Why do we not have the time to stop and talk with or listen to, much less to at least smile at, a stranger or even a friend? Because time is of essence, we sometimes reason out. Alibi. Time is indeed of essence but it is people who are truly essential. Why do some priests vehemently attack the discipline of celibacy? Because some of them claim that celibacy violates their human right. Alibi. Even as seminarians, priests already know that they are to live celibate lives and they freely accept it as part of their calling. Why do we not confront a friend with a wrong he has done or is doing? Because we do not want to hurt his feelings. Alibi. By not telling him his fault, we are more guilty of hurting him.

Alibi is not for the truthful. It is only for the hypocrite. Many may agree with what I say here, but still many may not. Perhaps, those who violently disagree with my reflection here have their own alibis.

MORE DEADLY THAN ATOMIC BOMB

Memorial of St. Pedro Bautista, Paul Miki and Companion, Martyrs
Mt 28:16-20

World history remembers Nagasaki as the second city of Japan where Americans dropped the second atomic bomb during the Second World War. Too sad for this Japanese city, its name is almost synonymous with death of catastrophic proportion. Three and a half centuries prior to the Nagasaki bombing, twenty-six Christian martyrs were crucified on a hill, known today as the “Holy Mountain”, overlooking the city. Among those crucified were six Franciscan friars, three Japanese Jesuits, and seventeen native lay members of the Third Order of St. Francis. They were a heterogeneous group: aside from the priests and religious, there were catechists, doctors, simple artisans, servants, old men and innocent children. Love for Jesus and the Church bound them together until death.

Among these martyrs, we make special mention today of St. Pedro Bautista because he worked in the evangelization of the Philippines. After preaching the Gospel in the Philippines, Fray Pedro, together with several other Franciscan missionaries, was sent to Japan in 1503 where he became the superior of his order there. Enjoying the kindness of the Japanese emperor at first, Fray Pedro Bautista and companions accomplished much for spread of the Faith in Japan, building convents, schools, and hospitals. Their missionary labors produced many conversions among the natives.

St. Paul Miki, a Japanese Jesuit brother is likewise given special mention today. In countries other than the Philippines, it is Bro. Paul Miki’s name only that appears in the liturgical title of the martyrs’ feastday. He is the best known among the twenty-six martyrs of Japan. Born in 1562 at Tsunokuni, Japan, Paul was the son of a military leader, Miki Handayu. Having felt the vocation to the religious life, Paul left the comforts of an affluent life to join the Society of Jesus. He became a Jesuit brother in 1580 and, despite the hostility of the political leaders against Christians, he persevered in the work of evangelizing his fellow Japanese. His famous words to his people came as he hung on the cross: “The sentence of judgment says these men came to Japan from the Philippines, but I did not come from any other country. I am a true Japanese. The only reason for my being killed is that I have taught the doctrine of Christ. I certainly did teach the doctrine of Christ. I thank God it is for this reason I die. I believe that I am telling only the truth before I die. I know you believe me and I want to say to you all once again: Ask Christ to help you to become happy. I obey Christ. After Christ’s example, I forgive my persecutors. I do not hate them. I ask God to have pity on all, and I hope my blood will fall on my fellow men as a fruitful rain.”

There is nothing popularly known about the other twenty-four of the twenty-six martyrs. However, a very moving report is given about two innocent children who suffered martyrdom with them. When Louis, an 11-year old boy, arrived at the hill of crucifixion, he asked which cross was his. When told which cross was his, the young boy ran towards it with joy that touched the crowd. As he died on his cross, Louis’ face shone with heavenly radiance. Another young boy among the martyrs was named “Anthony”. His parents pleaded with him to spare his life by apostatizing. They wanted their 13-year old Anthony to wait until he was older to confess his faith in Jesus. But our young martyr told his parents, “Do not expose our holy faith to contempt and the mockery of the pagans.” At one point, the magistrate also offered Anthony riches if he would deny the Faith. To this proposal, he answered, “I scorn your promises and life itself. The cross is what I desire for love of Jesus who chose to die on a cross to save us.” Then promising to pray for them, Anthony said goodbye to his parents and went to his crucifixion. As he hung upon the cross, he was heard singing Laudate, pueri, Dominum! (“Children, praise the Lord!”). He was pierced through the heart when he reached the doxology (Gloria Patri….) of the Psalm.

Pedro Bautista, Paul Miki, and companion martyrs were all crucified at Nagasaki on February 5, 1597. They were beatified on September 14, 1627 by Pope Urban VIII and canonized by Pope Pius IX on June 8, 1862. We celebrate their blessed memory today.

The heroic death of the Martyrs of Nagasaki cannot but strengthen the Faith of any believer in Christ and the love of every member of the Church. Long before the Americans dropped the second atomic bomb there, the blood of Christian martyrs had already drenched the city. Thus, when missionaries returned to Japan in the 1860s, they eventually found that natives were already living around Nagasaki, secretly living the Christian Faith. As the Lord promised in the Gospel today, He had always been with them. And though Christians still remain a minority in Japan until today, Jesus will always be with them until the end of time. That promise can be more deadly than any atomic bomb, for by killing those who believed in that promise of Christ those responsible for the death of the martyrs simply multiplied the number of believers.

EASY TO APPROACH AND EASILY APPROACHES

5th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mk 1:29-39

A person who is easy to approach is called in Tagalog “madaling lapitan”. A person who easily approaches is called in Tagalog “madaling lumapit”. Jesus is both. He is “madaling lapitan” and “madaling lumapit”. The Gospel today shows us these two traits of Jesus.

The whole town came crowding round the door where Jesus was, bringing to Him all who were sick and possessed by unclean spirits, and the following day everybody, according to Simon Peter and his companions, were looking for Him because Jesus was approachable. It was easy to reach Him and seek His favor. Anyone who sought Him out found Him. Anyone who asked anything from Him received. Anyone who knocked on His compassionate heart experienced a warm welcoming.

Nothing has changed since then. Jesus continues to be very much approachable, if not even more approachable to us than to His contemporaries. We may encounter Him through the sacraments, receive Him in the Eucharist, visit Him in the tabernacles of our churches, feel Him in our hearts, and embrace Him in our fellow human beings. By vanishing from our sight, Jesus became even more present to us! He has made Himself more available to us than to His contemporaries. But do we approach Him as much as we should?

The contemporaries of Jesus did not only find Jesus very much approachable; they also experienced Him always approaching them. It was easy for them to reach out to Jesus because Jesus is precisely always reaching out to them. They found Him because He would find them always. Fame and adulation in one place or another did not caused Jesus to be derailed in His mission of proclaiming the Kingdom of God by word and deed to as many of His contemporaries as possible. Thus, Jesus told Simon Peter and his companions in the Gospel today, “Let us go elsewhere, to the neighboring country towns, so that I can preach there too, because that is why I came.”

As He was the Good Shepherd of His own generation, so is He still our Good Shepherd seeking out the lost of today. He reaches out to us through the sacraments, the Scripture, and the Church. He continues to be found because He continues to search in our day and age. But do we allow Him to find and touch us?

There was no cordon sanitaire around Jesus before and He certainly does not want to build an army of bodyguards today. It is amazing that despite His great fame and power, Jesus was and still is very much within reach and is always reaching out. How different He is from us.

It is sad that fame and power can isolate those who enjoy and possess them. The more famous you are the less approachable you become. The more powerful you are the more bodyguards you need. It is quite hard to approach a celebrity, the chair of the board, a president of a nation, a high-ranking official, and, sometimes, even a priest or a bishop. Appointments have to be requested and secured; without which you can only dream about meeting them and bringing to them your concerns personally. Is it not a scandal that those who profess love and service to the people are the ones the people find most difficult to talk to?

Jesus is truly different: Madali natin Siyang lapitan at madali Siyang lumapit sa atin (“We easily approach Him and He easily approaches us”). He does not have a secretary to receive our requests for appointments. He does not have a screening committee to decide who can and who cannot meet Him. He does not have a delegate to do the reaching out for Him despite the immense demands of His mission.

The secret of Jesus must be in what happens between His being reachable and being reaching out. There seems to be a sandwich here, where in the middle that makes the sandwich tasty is Jesus’ time spent with the Father. As He went about with His public ministry, despite the load of His work for the Kingdom, the Gospel today paints for us a picture of Jesus communing with the Father. “In the morning, long before dawn,” the Gospel today describes Jesus, “He got up and left the house, and went off to a lonely place and prayed there.” He was and is always centered on the Father, not on Himself, not on the people who admire or even criticized Him. He was and is never attached to anything or anyone, except the Father. Thus, He was and is always available to all.

Jesus is far infinitely more important than any of us. What a shame if we make our selves less approachable and less approaching than He was before and He is today. What a lie if we are unreachable for and not reaching out to the people we heartbreakingly say we love and want to serve.

I end with a confession. Once a Carmelite nun told me, “My goodness, Fr. Bobby, I’ve been trying to catch you for years but to no avail! It is easier for me to get an appointment with the Pope than with you.” Well, she is a friend of Archbishop Pietro Marini, the Pope’s genial Master of Ceremonies. But her words hit me hard: there was truth in her complain. I started soul-searching and realized that the problem was that I was too busy not only for people but even for God. Indeed, it is when we are most available to God that we become more available to people.

TOO MUCH WORK FOR TOO LITTLE TIME

Saturday in the 4th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 6:30-34

We often hear it said, “There is just too much work to do.” We ourselves say often, “I have very little time for so many tasks.” But will there really be enough time for all the work we have to do? Will there really be work that is enough for the time we have?

We can only do so much with whatever time we have. Realizing and accepting this fact is the beginning of having much work done. Denying it leaves nothing done or done quite unsatisfactorily.

In the matter of our work for God, we must never forget that it is also a work with God. After doing our best, we must submit to the grace of God at work in everything and everyone. Let God be in control because He knows what He is doing better than we know what we are trying to accomplish. Jaime Cardinal Sin, of blessed memory, would often say: “Work as if everything depends on you, but pray as if everything depends on God.”

So long as we give it our best, our work is worth the time we have and our time is worth the work we do for the Lord and with the Lord. Just give it our best always. God will do the rest. After all, we are not to save the world. It has already been saved, in the first place. By Jesus, not by us.

Let us not be disheartened to the point of misery when we fail after we have done our best. We must always move on. While no one can do as best as we do what we can do, what we cannot do Jesus can do better. There will always be imperfect situations, imperfect people, imperfect ways, imperfect steps, and imperfect time. We, ourselves, are imperfect, are we not? If we are perfect living in a perfect world, then we are already in heaven. But we are not; thus, we are imperfect and are in need of a Savior. Jesus is that Savior, no one else.

In the midst of too much work with too little time, we must learn the art of resting. We need to rest so that we may work better. Quite often, we miss the point: what Jesus wants is not that we work more but that we work better. He is not after what we can do but how we do it. Quality is always inferior with quantity for the Lord. Resting better always helps us to work better, and, yes, even to work more.

But for us to rest when rest is needed despite too much work yet to be done requires trusting the Lord. Let us work for Jesus. Let us work with Jesus. Let us rest in Jesus.

IN LIFE AND IN DEATH

Friday in the 4th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 6:14-29

John’s birth was the fulfillment of God’s promise to his parents Zechariah and Elizabeth. His death was the fulfillment of Herod’s promise to Salome, daughter of Herod’s mistress. In life and in death, John’s role was to be the fulfillment of promises. What a beautiful role! What a dangerous role as well!

Two promises: one was a promise of life while the other was a deadly promise. The former was God’s graciousness to man while the latter was man’s hatred to man. The first came when God refreshed a barren womb while the second came when an axe fell upon a prophet’s head. Two promises but extremely different from each other.

We, too, make promises, do we not? What kind of promises do we make? Promises of life or deadly promises? Coming from graciousness or erupting from hatred? One that links or one that cuts?

Two different promises, one and the same man as fulfillment: John the Baptist. In the first, he was a gift; in the second, a victim. In the first, he was a feeble child; in the second, a heroic martyr. In the first, he made the people around him dumbfounded with amazement and joy; in the second, those who feared him silenced him.

Do we also find our selves as the fulfillment of promises? Are we gifts or victims? Are we feeble children or heroic martyrs? Are we welcomed with joy or are we feared?

In fulfilling his role, John was a powerful sign. He pointed not only to the coming of the Messiah, but to the Messiah’s very presence in their midst. By his martyrdom, he pointed to the continuing presence of the same Messiah in the world and in the hearts of every believer. He was Jesus’ greatest prophet. He pointed to Jesus in life and in death.

To whom do our lives point to? Most likely, it will be the same when death comes.

JESUS, OUR LIGHT

Feast of the Lord’s Presentation
Lk 2:22-40

Today’s feast is traditionally called “Candlemas” because candles are blest during Masses today. In countries with temperate climate, the Candlemas is a gentle feast of light in the darkness of winter. The liturgy reminds us of the Light that came into the world and became part of human history. That Light is Jesus whose birth we celebrated exactly forty days ago.

In some European countries, there is a custom to light the candles blest today when a storm threatens the people. Some Catholic Filipinos also have a similar custom. Of course, the candles do not calm the storm, but they remind the people that the Lord is with them through natural and personal storms.

Jesus is our Light. Today He is not only presented to God in the temple as prescribed by the Law of Moses; God reveals Jesus to us as the Light that no storm can put out. Let us keep this Light burning, storm or no storm.

NAKED TRUTH

Wednesday in the 4th Week of the Ordinary Time
Mk 6:1-6

When I was still studying for the priesthood, almost everybody in my home-parish at one point or another thought loudly, “Sana madestino ka rito sa parokya natin kapag naging pari ka” (“I hope you get assigned here in our parish when you become a priest”). The closest that I was assigned to my own parish was when I was appointed there as a resident deacon for three months. Today, being assigned to my home-parish seems almost impossible because my home-parish already belongs to a rather newly created diocese. I do not belong to that new diocese.

When I read the Gospel today, I cannot help but wonder if its message provides the logic why I have yet to meet a brother-priest who was or who is presently assigned to his home-parish. It seems that it is almost deliberate that we, priests, are not sent to the parish where we grew up. Can the reason be that no prophet is without honor except in his own town and among his own kindred?

When I became a priest, there were some people in our village that commented, “Tignan mo nga naman, pari ka na! Ang liit-liit mo lang dati. Parang kung kailan lang nang tumatakbo ka pang nakahubo.” (“Look at you, you are now a priest! You used to be just too small. It seems like only yesterday when you were running around naked”).

Nakedness is vulnerability. To be naked before anyone is to be vulnerable. People who are fixated with having seen us naked are people who are fixated with having known our vulnerability. We cannot but be sorry for people who have this kind of fixation. Their world is too narrow and they themselves have little room to grow in it.

The townmates of Jesus failed to accept Him because they thought they knew Him too well. They saw Him as a child growing up in their midst, running up and down their streets, maybe even naked playing under the rain. They knew His family and, perhaps, also the “family secret” that He was not from the loins of His known father. They were aware that He came from a poor home and had no formal education. They knew His vulnerability. But they did not know that by His vulnerability, He was redeeming them from their own weaknesses.

Next time we are tempted to easily dismiss someone because we think we know him too well. Think again. We may be gravely mistaken. We have not seen all of him yet. His nakedness perhaps speak well of our own vulnerability rather than his. Let us give Him a chance to clothe us with His own garments…perhaps, that is precisely the reason why he stands naked. And that is the naked truth we often cannot take.