MERCY OVERCOMING JUSTICE

5th Sunday of Lent
Jn 8:1-11

A woman is brought to Jesus. She is being charged with adultery. Who caught her? The scribes and the Pharisees. And how was she caught? Let those who caught her answer the question: “Master,” they said, “this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery….”

The scribes and the Pharisees brought to Jesus a woman whom they caught in the very act of committing adultery. In the very act! What does “in the very act” imply? When we say we catch a man in the very act of stealing, for example, we mean that we see him actually in the process of stealing something. Perhaps, we catch him with either of his hands still holding what he has just stolen. “In the very act” in Filipino is “huli sa akto” that is why “huling-huli talaga”. Therefore, the accused can easily be judged guilty as charged. The woman in the Gospel today perhaps is truly guilty as charged. If so, Judaic justice system demands her death.

The woman may be guilty as charged, but how about those who are charging her – are they not also guilty? They caught her in the very act of committing adultery. How come?

If they indeed caught the woman in the very act of committing adultery, there can be three possible scenarios.

First, someone among her accusers must be peeping through the key hole of the room where she was in while committing adultery. To catch her in the very act of committing adultery, one must see what is really happening at the other side of the door where the woman was with her client, if not lover. That someone is guilty of voyeurism.

Second, her accusers must have had their eyes on her always and so they caught her right in the very act of committing adultery. And why did they have their eyes on her always? They had their eyes on her always because they either really wanted to kill her for some reason or they also wanted her for themselves. On both counts, nonetheless, they, too, are guilty of malice.

Third, could it be that one of her accusers, if not all, was actually her clients? It is intriguing that while the scribes and the Pharisees brought to Jesus the woman they caught in the very act of committing adultery, they seemed to have allowed her client or lover to go scot-free. Where is he? Or where are they? Could they actually be her accusers? If such is the case, then they, too, are guilty of adultery.
So, who really caught who? The scribes and the Pharisees did not really catch the woman they charged with adultery. Jesus caught them all.

On the one hand, while Jesus did not condemn the woman, He did not, however, condone her adulterous act. By forgiving her, Jesus instead confirmed the woman’s guilt but not by the claws of justice but by the touch of mercy. By sending her away, Jesus gave her a chance to satisfy the essential demand of justice, which is reformation of life. Thus, He admonished her, “Sin no more.”

On the other hand, while Jesus did not accuse the woman’s complainants of their own guilt, He did not, however, agree with their self-righteousness. By telling them to cast a stone on her, Jesus recognized what Judaic justice system dictated. By qualifying His instruction with “let he who has no sin cast the first stone”, Jesus threw the first stone not on the woman only but on all of them. By going back to what He was writing on the ground, was Jesus actually writing their sins on the sand?

The woman in the Gospel today is twice a victim. She is a victim of her accuser’s hypocrisy and hatred. But their hatred was not directed really toward her. Her accusers did not care much about satisfying justice as much as they care about trapping Jesus. The scribes and the Pharisees hated Jesus so much that they would do anything and use anyone to have a valid accusation against Jesus. Today, they used a woman who was caught in the very act of committing adultery. They do not see her as a woman at all but a bait.

But Jesus sees them all as God’s children – sinners and yet loved. He hates sin but loves the sinner. For while He indeed is just, Jesus’ greatest attribute, as St. Faustina Kowalska, the Apostle of the Divine Mercy, said, is mercy. Thanks be to God! For, imagine, if He were only just but not merciful, where would we all be by now? This is the message and joy of the Lord’s death on the cross. Pope Benedict XVI, while he was still Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, said it so fittingly, “On the cross, God’s mercy overcame His justice.”

I have shared this story time and again in my homilies and reflections, please allow me to conclude my thoughts today with the same appropriate story.

To discourage cowardice among his military forces, Napoleon the Great used to impose the death penalty to soldiers who would abandon his army. A story is told that, during a fierce battle, a young French soldier who broke the ranks. In a matter of hours though, he was caught by his own troops. Now, hearing the news and fearing the wrath of Napoleon’s justice, the mother of that young French soldier went to plead with Napoleon.

“Sir,” she begged, “please spare my son.”

“You son deserves death,” said Napoleon.

“Have mercy on him, sir,” the mother pleaded with tears.

“Mercy?” Napoleon shouted. “But your son does not deserve mercy!”

“O, yes, sir,” the mother dared to speak further, “I know that my son does not deserve mercy. For if he does, then it is not mercy at all.”

NOT ONLY TRUTHFUL BUT TRUTH HIMSELF

Thursday in the 4th Week of Lent
Jn 5:31-47

Seldom do we get a series of Gospel readings from John. This week, we are having it consecutively. This will continue until Holy Week, with the exception only of Palm Sunday and Holy Wednesday. Why?

John the Evangelist wanted to prove, through what he called “signs”, that Jesus is the Son of God. Jesus’ claim to divinity was what was driving His enemies crazy. They were too crazy as to deliver a fellow Jew, Jesus, to the Roman colonizers for crucifixion.

But Jesus could not lie simply to save His life. He did not know how to lie. He was perfectly truthful, including about who He really was. He, indeed, was the Son of God. And He still is.

Sometimes, the price of being truthful is very high. We have known men and women who paid with their lives the price of remaining on the side of truth. Those who killed them thought they could kill the truth by killing the truthful. But time and again, they have been proven wrong. No one can kill the truth. The truthful may be silenced by death but death shouts the truth even louder.

When His enemies put Him to death, they paved the way for God to shout the truth about His Son: He raised Him from the dead! The resurrection of Jesus echoes through generations until today that Jesus is truly the Son of God. Many have tried to make its message sound baffled, but they never succeed. The truth never dies, never fades, never changes. It lives on forever. No wonder Jesus is not only truthful. Jesus Himself is the Truth.

NOT BECAUSE OF BUT EVEN WITH

Wednesday in the 4th Week of Lent
Jn 5:17-30

Yesterday, Jesus broke the Sabbath by healing a man who was sick for thirty-eight years. Today, He makes the boldest claim ever: He is the Son of God.

The tension between Jesus and His perennial critics rises and rises. There is no stopping to the growing animosity of His persecutors toward Him. The death of Jesus gradually but surely appears to be an inevitable end to this protracted conflict. The scent of blood becomes stronger and stronger as the cross itself seems to be approaching Jesus more than Jesus approaching the cross.

If we were to ask Jesus if He desired the cross for Himself, what would He tell us? Did He intend to die? If He did, then, His death was not martyrdom but suicidal.

No, Jesus did not desire the cross. He did not intend to die. He did not commit suicide. On the contrary, Jesus – who, while truly divine, is human like us in all things but sin – also feared the prospect of death. In the Garden of Gethsemane, coming face-to-face with death, Jesus sweated blood and prayed, “Father, if it is Your will take this cup away from Me.” It is interesting that three of the four evangelists noted this: Mt 26:39, Mk 14:36, and Lk 22:42. However, all three evangelists also wrote that Jesus did not only pray to be spared from death. They mentioned in their separate accounts that Jesus ended His prayer this way: “…yet not My will, but Yours be done.”

Jesus was not a lunatic who jumped to His death. He was not guilty of suicide. Neither was He an accidental hero. Jesus faced the cross squarely. He faced it with trembling and fear even as He accepted it with faith and love. He desired to fulfill the mission entrusted to Him by the Father and if by doing so He gained enemies and merited death on the cross, so be it for Him. For Jesus, the will of the Father was greater than anything.

But was it the Father’s will that Jesus should die on the cross?

When we were younger, the answer to this question seemed to be yes. In the old catechism, the answer to the question “Why did Jesus became man” used to be “Jesus became man to save us from sin through His death and resurrection”. While this answer remains valid, it is no longer the first answer to the same question. Jesus became man because God loves us (Cf. Jn 3:16) and to give us fullness of life (Cf. Jn 10:10). Such therefore is the will of the Father: that Jesus gives us fullness of life. If, because of our sins, giving us fullness of life requires that Jesus gives up His life on the cross, then Jesus submits Himself to death.

The Father did not will the death of Jesus as much as He does not want the death of any of His children – saints or sinners alike. It was not as if after seeing the mangled body of His only begotten Son on the cross, the Father tells us, “Okay, fine, You are forgiven. The death of My Son paid for your sins and His blood has satisfied Me. We are friends again.” No! For if it were so, then the Father is not God but a monster that salivates over flesh or a vampire that thirst for blood.

The cross is not the cause of our reconciliation with the Father. It is His love that reconciles us with Him. He loves us not because of the cross. Rather, He loves us even with the cross.

When Jesus broke the Sabbath and claimed Himself to be the Son of God, He was giving us fullness of life. The Sabbath, no matter how holy, should not enslave us. The Son of God Himself, who is Jesus, is our life.

The scribes, the Pharisees, the chief priests, and the elders of the people during the time of Jesus refused to accept the ways and claims of Jesus. They wanted to cling to the old and the familiar. They never wanted to be surprised by the unpredictable movements and unexpected self-revelation of God through Jesus. And because they could not accept Jesus, they nailed Him on a cross. But the cross did not make the Father stop loving us just as it was not the reason for Him to love us. Instead, God loves us not because of but even with the cross.

A BAD PATIENT I WAS

Tuesday in the 4th Week of Lent
Jn 5:1-16

I am nursing a flue while writing this reflection. I confess I used to be a bad patient. I did not like taking in medicine. I would never confine my self in my room for complete bed-rest, but instead would go about doing my routine and satisfying the demands of my ministry as much as my body permitted. I hit the showers even when my mom kept on telling me not to. I was a bad patient. And my mom hated it.

I turned forty years old two weeks ago. One of the things I am beginning to realize is the change in my physical and biological resistance. When I was younger, I could do just what I described earlier when I was sick, and I got away with it. But today, with my first flu after turning forty, I notice that I am weaker and the fever seems to linger longer. It is the third day of my convalescence. I began to listen to my mom’s valid advice and I seem to be a better patient now.

Jesus asked the man who was sick for thirty-eight years, “Do you want to be well again?” It is interesting that Jesus asked him that. Why did He not just heal him right there and then, no questions asked? Why did He have to ask him or did He have to really ask him first? What if the sick man replied, “No,” would Jesus heal him anyway?

“God who created you without asking you will not save you without consulting you,” said St. Augustine. The Lord does not force Himself on us. He respects our freedom even when we misuse it or, worse, even when we use our freedom against Him. If we want to be healed, we have to tell Him. Not that He is not aware of our desire for healing, but that He wants us to be more aware of it instead. Moreover, we need to be constantly reminded of two things. First, that the Lord alone is the Source of our healing. Second, that healing is for the asking (“Ang healing ay hinihiling”).

I want to be well again. I am aware that I need healing. I know that my healing comes from the Lord. And so I ask Him, “Lord, heal me.”

My mom is not happy now that I am sick. She worries, I know. But she is happier now that I follow her advice to take in medicine, to rest, to avoid the showers for the meantime, and to be a better patient. “Do you want to be well again” – I heard this from her several times when I was younger and sick. “Of course, I do,” I used to answer her, but I never follow her advice. This time, it is different, I tell her, “Yes, I do,” then obey her.

Lent is a special time for healing, if it is really healing that we want. And if we really want to be healed in a particular aspect of our spiritual life, Jesus asks us the same question, “Do you want to be well again?” What is our answer? But, more importantly, what do we do?

I WOULD MARRY MARY BUT....

Solemnity of St. Joseph, Husband of Mary
Mt 1:16, 18-21, 24

If I were to marry and if it were really possible, I would marry Mary. Yes, Mary, the daughter of Joaquin and Anne. I mean Mary of Nazareth, the mother of Jesus. She has all the qualities I search for a woman I would love and would want to spend the rest of my life with. But I wonder, if I would want to be Joseph.

Joseph was a just man. Okay, fine with me. Joseph was a carpenter. Okay, fine with me. Joseph was a very quiet man. Okay, fine with me. I strive to be just. I do not mind working as a carpenter. I want to be a quiet man too. But Joseph was the husband of Mary, and I am not sure if I like to be him. If it were possible and if I could marry though, I would love to marry Mary.

I would immediately marry Mary but I would have second thoughts becoming Joseph. I am not sure if I would spare Mary the demands of the Law were I to find her with child prior to our marriage. I am not sure if I would believe a divine command – to take Mary as my wife – received in a dream. I am not sure if I would be at peace with God’s assurance that the child in Mary’s womb is actually His when God assures me about that while I am sleeping. I am not sure if I could bring up Jesus the way Joseph brought him up. I am not sure if I would not meddle with Jesus’ ministry when I see the people turning against Him and calling Him a lunatic. I am not sure if I want to be Joseph but I certainly wish I could marry Mary.

That is precisely the difference between Joseph and me. I surely want to be the husband of Mary but I surely am afraid to be the father of Jesus. When Joseph became the husband of Mary, he did not only take Mary in. He took Mary and Jesus in. Becoming the husband of Mary meant becoming the earthly father of Jesus too. Joseph did not become Jesus’ father because it was his seed that Mary carried in her womb but because in carrying Mary in his heart, he carried Jesus in his heart as well. If fatherhood is a man’s choice, Joseph’s fatherhood is twice the weight of the meaning of those words. When the truth behind Mary’s conception was revealed to him, Joseph chose to be marry Mary nonetheless and became Jesus’ earthly father as well.

Today, we celebrate Joseph’s marital status. But in view of his parental status, our celebration is not a mere feast but a solemnity. Joseph, the husband of Mary, is the foster-father of Jesus too. And that means more than giving a legal recognition to Jesus as his Son despite the fact that Jesus was not from his loins. It means that Joseph loved Jesus as if Jesus were his own. He chose to keep Jesus so that God may give Jesus to the world. May our choices in life be the same.

CLOSER OR FARTHER?

Friday in the 3rd Week of Lent
Mk 12:28-34

The greatest effect that our yearly observance of the Lenten season can have on us is increase in our love of God and neighbor. Hopefully, by praying better, sacrificing better, and giving better every Lent, we learn and actually love God and neighbor better. Each Lenten season should be for us a step closer to the Kingdom of God. Is it?

When is our Lenten observance not a step closer to the Kingdom of God but a step farther away from it instead?

If our Lenten practices have turned into nothing but fanaticism which is more of love for the familiar no matter how wrong it is and for the popular no matter how erroneous it is, then no matter how many Lenten seasons we go through, we are not even a single step closer to the Kingdom of God. Lent is an opportune time to correct what is wrong. Quite often, more than one item needs correction in our popular piety. Love requires correcting errors. Let us begin with errors in the practice of the Faith.

If our Lenten discipline of prayer, sacrifice, and almsgiving is doubled but not deepened, then no matter how much we pray, how much we sacrifice, and how much we give, Lent does not bring us any significantly closer to the Kingdom of God. It is not praying more, sacrificing more, and giving more that truly matters, but praying better, sacrificing better, and giving better. The road that leads to the Kingdom of God is not calculated by the “more” of in our praying, sacrificing, and giving. Rather, the measure of our distance from the Kingdom of God is revealed by the “better” in our praying, sacrificing, and giving. Love does not ask for more, but always for the better. Let us love better.

If the Lenten call to conversion and renewal is only, strictly seasonal for us, then no matter how intense our Lenten observance is, our Lenten practices and discipline place us no millimeter closer to the Kingdom of God. The need for conversion and renewal is perennial for us. It should not be satisfied only during the days from Ash Wednesday through Holy Wednesday. The closer we are to the Kingdom of God, the more we should have been converted and renewed. Love demands a constant purification of the heart. Let us live Lent in season and out of season.

The Lenten season is already past halfway today. Where can we be found by now – closer or farther from the Kingdom of God?

JESUS HAS THE CURE

Thursday in the 3rd Week of Lent
Lk 11:14-23

Do you feel scattered, fragmented, diffused? Jesus holds the answer to your ailment. Gather with Jesus. Gather in Jesus. Gather through Jesus.

Are we unhappy even with despite doing good? Why? If we equate happiness with doing good, then we will really be unhappy because Jesus alone is the true Source of real joy. Gather with Jesus.

Do we join many church organizations and movements, but we feel so heavily burdened? When will we learn not to spread ourselves too thin? The quantity of our commitments is far lesser important than their quality. It is always better to belong to one than to a hundred groups than belong to a hundred groups but never be committed to one. Jesus alone makes us valuable. Gather in Jesus.

Do we have many valid concerns, but know that only one is important? What is really important is what is important for Jesus. Thus, the necessity for discernment to know what truly matters to Jesus. Through Jesus, we avoid being fragmented in paying attention to our many concerns. Gather through Jesus.

A divided community is bad. A divided household is worse. But an individual divided in himself or herself is worst. Only with Jesus can we arrive at wholeness again. Only in Jesus can we be whole again. Only through Jesus can wholeness really be holiness.

It is not by Beelzebul that Jesus drives out demons, for by driving demons out of the afflicted Jesus makes the afflicted whole again. Jesus drives out demons by the power of God that is inherent in Him because the power of God is a power that gathers, not scatters, a power that unites, not divides, a power that makes whole again.

We are all busy, who is not? We are all burdened, who is not? We are all pulled towards opposite direction, who is not? But our preoccupations, our burdens, and everything that demands our attention need not ruin us, unless we do not gather with, in and through Jesus.

Do you feel scattered, fragmented, diffused? Talk to Jesus. He has the cure.

FULFILLMENT OF THE LAW

Wednesday in the 3rd Week of Lent
Mt 5:17-19

Any law puts the conscience and highest aspirations of a people into words. It expresses the deepest and vital values that animate a culture.

The Torah is the Jewish Law. It evolved from the Ten Commandments God gave the Israelites through Moses on Sinai. It reflects the vision of what the Israelites – God’s Chosen People – should be. Obedience to it moulds not only the identity of the Israelites but also how the afterlife will be for them. Thus, the Torah is never trivial or disposable.

Being a good Jew, Jesus declares categorically today that He does not support any move to disregard the Law. He is no lawbreaker because He came not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it. Matthew, who in writing his gospel, tries to show a parallelism between Moses and Jesus, is just a breath away from saying that Jesus, and not Moses, is the real Lawgiver. Jesus Himself is the fulfillment of the Law. It is very significant to note that following the two passages that comprise our Gospel today, is Jesus’ litany of “the Law says, but I say.…”

It is Jesus who gives real meaning to the Law of Moses. Becoming more and more like Jesus, therefore, fulfills the Law. This changes the Old Testament definition of righteousness from “obedience to the Law” to “configuration to Jesus”. If righteousness were mere obedience to the Law, it can easily make us fall into hypocrisy. And this is precisely the problem with many of the scribes, Pharisees, chief priests, and elders of the people whom Jesus criticizes left and right.

Lent is a special time to reflect on how much we have so far become like Jesus even as we examine where we fail in obeying the Ten Commandments and the Five Precepts of the Church. The law may be the conscience of a people, but Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law.

MANY CHANCES BUT THERE IS ALWAYS A LAST ONE

3rd Sunday of Lent
Lk 13:1-9

St. Augustine, a great saint and doctor of the Church, once prayed, “Lord, please give me patience and I want it now.” What an impatient prayer for patience!

Let us talk and reflect about something we always ask for but sometimes have none: patience.

Patience is a human luxury. Many pray for it yet still many have little of it or none at all. Impatience is a malady that afflicts countless souls.

Some are impatient about things of great importance, such as about the snail-paced economy of the country, while others are impatient on small matters, like on a fresh pimple on the face. Some are impatient for material things, like for a new top-of-the-line mobile phone, while others about spiritual affairs, such as about a falling into the same sins over and over again. Most are impatient about others, but there are also those who are impatient about their selves too. Still, there are those who are impatient over the fact that they have little or no patience at all.

Patience, however, is ordinary to God. God is patient always. Impatience is an option that God never takes. He is patient to the good and the bad. He is patient over grave sins as He is patient about petty ones. He is patient with the adventurous as He is likewise patient with the complacent. God is patient even with those who are impatient with Him.

Quite often, we are impatient because we cannot tolerate the imperfection of others even while we ourselves are imperfect. We are imperfect but we continue demanding from others nothing less than perfection itself. While our quest for perfection keeps our focus on the effort of improving our selves, it is not seldom that we lose our focus on our selves as we fix our attention on the imperfection of others, is it not? Because we forget that we are just as imperfect as the rest of humanity, we easily become impatient with others. And when we finally remember our own imperfection, either we become compassionate toward others or we become the next victim of our own impatience.

God is always patient because He alone is truly perfect. It follows that all His attributes are perfect too. Thus, His love for us is perfect. His patience for us is perfected in love. When we sin, He is always ready to forgive us. He turns our greatest blunders into our greatest lessons in life. He respects our freedom even when we use the very same freedom against Him. He provides us space when we need some and even when it means away from Him. He supplies us with time and gives us countless chances to make up and do better. Patiently, He believes in us. Patiently, He hopes in us. Patiently, He loves us.

Lent gently sways to the tune of song: “Long have I waited for your coming home to Me and living deeply our new life.” This is God’s song to us. Notice: he never forces us, never coerces us, never pulls us toward Him against our will. No, He waits for us. And He waits not matter how long it takes. He is patient. He is perfect. He is perfectly patient with us.

But God’s patience with us must not make us complacent and indifferent to our transgressions. His unfathomable love for us is not a license for us to do anything we want, including sin. While God is perfectly patient with us, we should not forget that we are also perfectly accountable for our deeds done in full knowledge and consent. God’s patience with us – no matter how perfect it is – does not erase the consequences of our actions.

God gives us many chances before the last one. This He does even we have always proven how unfaithful we are to Him. This He does because He never wishes the death of a sinner. His ultimate joy, rather, is to welcome back in His fatherly embrace every prodigal child. He is waiting for the return of the prodigal son, not with a whip in His hand to punish Him but with a fatted calf to feast with him and his friends.

The bad things that happen to us? They are not punishments from God. God is not a monster. He never punishes. We punish our selves instead. “The wages of sin is death,” so says St. Paul the Apostle (Rom 6:23). When bad things happen to bad people, it is because they are bad to begin with. When bad things happen to good people, it is because bad people exist.

Next time we suffer unfortunate incidents, ill health, or any bad things in life, let us not be too quick to point an accusing finger to God and judge Him to be punitive. Perhaps, our misfortunes are natural consequences of our misdeeds, ill will, or bad character. Perhaps, they are payments to debts long overdue. Perhaps they are wages of our sins. Let us, instead, humbly acknowledge our shortcomings, beg for forgiveness, set aright what we have rendered wrong, and amend our ways.

Psalm 95:7-8 is very much a Lenten reminder for us all: “If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts.” As we go deeper and deeper into the season of Lent, let us go deeper and deeper into our hearts and heed these words of the psalmist. While God gives us many chances before the last one, do not forget the fact that there is always a last one. Recall those who were with us last Easter but have now gone to eternity since then. Nothing guarantees us that we will still be here next Easter.

Remember: God is patient but the devil is not.

OUCH!

Friday in the 2nd Week of Lent
Mt 21:33-43, 45-46

A good Jew knows the Hebrew Bible from cover to cover. They study it from childhood! They even memorize key passages from it. Thus, when the chief priests and the elders heard even just the opening lines of Jesus’ parable today, they surely remembered one of the famous passages from Is 5:1-7 that compares the Israelites to a beautiful vineyard. In that passage, Isaiah gives an analogy: God owns a beautiful vineyard that Israel. Before He builds the watchtower and the wine press, He first cleared it and planted it with grapes. At harvest time, however, the vineyard yields only wild and bitter grapes. By this analogy, Isaiah denounces his fellow Israelites and warns them of God’s wrath.

Today’s parable, however, does not follow Isaiah’s analogy exactly. While God is still the owner of the vineyard and the vineyard still stands for the Israelites, it is not the vineyard that fails God this time, but the tenants of the vineyard. The tenants, to whom God entrusted His vineyard, are the leaders of Israel, the chief priests, the scribes, the Pharisees, and the elders of the people. We can just imagine the tension brewing as Jesus gives His lecture today. Matthew is keen in informing us that some of those leaders are actually among the listeners of Jesus. But Jesus speaks the truth about those leaders and His words today fall upon them like a long awaited indictment.

The truth hurts but only the truth will set us free. If we were those leaders of the Israelites, how would we feel about this open but honest criticism of Jesus today? How would we react? Would we strike our breast and repent of our ways unbecoming of a leader of God’s People? Or would we find fault at Jesus and plan a way to silence Him? We know what the listeners of Jesus did. They retaliated: the chief priests and the elders of the people put Jesus to death by allowing Him to be crucified by the Romans while the rest were either indifferent or driftwoods.

Each of us is a leader in one way or another. What kind of a leader are we? How does the parable of Jesus today sound to us – a mere food for thought or a long awaited indictment?

Lent is a special time for us to look at our selves honestly. Where repentance and conversion are needed, let there be repentance and conversion. Where amending ways and repair are called for, let there be amendment and repair. Where truth beckons us to freedom, let us run unto freedom, bravely but humbly meeting all the arrows that hurt but truly set us free.

TYPICAL

Wednesday in the 2nd Week of Lent
Mt 20:17-28

Here is a typical mother: Mrs. Zebedee, the mother of James and John who are disciples of Jesus. She goes to Jesus and asks from Him a daring favor. “Promise me,” she says, “that these two sons of mine may one sit at Your right hand and the other at Your left in Your kingdom.” Notice the absence of any formalities or a polite tone in her request. No, it seems, it is a demand not a request, already a claim rather than an appeal.

But is there anyone of us who feels bad about Mrs. Zebedee? I do not think so. If there is, then I suppose we should change the definition of “motherhood”.

My mother is my first fanatic. She believes in me even when I myself fail to believe in my self. She always sees in me more than what others see, more than what I myself see in me. I am her hero. I am her angel. I am her best son in the whole world. Well, as regards “her best son in the whole world”, my mother does not have much choice because I am her only son. At any rate, what is true about her is true to almost all, if not all, mothers. And if she has the chance, she may also make the same request Mrs. Zebedee makes on Jesus today.

But, of course, there only two seats right next to Jesus. And Jesus cannot give those to James, John and me. The world is too small really. It is even smaller for twelve men who may be interested in sitting on the same seats.

“Okay, count me out please, Mommy. I will be satisfied with only being in that kingdom, you know.”

The other ten, however, according to Matthew (who is, by the way, one of them; and, therefore, his word is reliable), are indignant with James and John because of their mother’s bold request that is complemented by their audacious claim that they can drink the cup that Jesus is going to drink. Should not Jesus be the One offended? But why the ten?

The ten are indignant because they, too, have their eyes on those seats. But there are only two seats. And they are twelve. While all the Twelve have their eyes on those two seats, only the two have the heart to claim them for themselves. The world may praise James and John for their courage to own, express, and pursue their dream, but Jesus has a different idea about the same dream.

Jesus dreams greatness for all of them. He wants them to reach the peak of prominence. But He has a logic of greatness directly contrary to that of the world’s: the higher one wants to reach, the lower he should bend. The greatest among Jesus’ disciples is the one who serves the least. He must be the slave, not merely the servant, of all. Notice: a slave!

Moreover, the greatest among them is not only required to serve the rest. He must also give His life for the many. It is not enough to serve to be great. To be truly great, one’s service must be life-giving. There are many kinds of service and many kinds of slaves, but only that which is life-giving that makes one the greatest.

Mrs. Zebedee and Jesus have the same dream for James and John. They both want the two to achieve greatness. But Mrs. Zebedee and Jesus understand greatness very much differently. The other ten share with Mrs. Zebedee the same definition of greatness.

My mother and I can be no different from Mrs. Zebedee and the Twelve. Are you?

NOT EXTRAS BUT STARS!

Monday in the 2nd Week of Lent
Lk 6:36-38

In the movies, so-called “extras” do not count much. They do not matter as much as the professional actors and actresses who play the lead characters do. The “extras” are, of course, not the stars. They may be important in some movie scenes, but, in most scenes, they stay at the periphery and are not given particular recognition.

God, however, is the God of the “extras”. He is extra loving, extra merciful, extra compassionate extra generous, extra accommodating, and everything extra good. But He is not at all an “extra” in our lives. He is the Star! He is the One that truly matters, and we matter only because of Him.

Jesus commands us today to be like God who is His Father and ours. We should consciously strive each day to treat one another the way Father God treats us. Much we receive from Him; much should we also give to others. Thus, we do our best to be extra caring, extra forgiving, extra friendly, extra patient, extra thoughtful, and everything extra good toward one another.

God is the God of the “extras” in our lives. However, that does not mean that what He gives us comes from His excesses. It does not mean that what He gives us are His surpluses. Of course, He is God and therefore infinitely and exhaustibly abundant of everything that is good. However, when He gave us His only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and He continues giving Him to us each day, God gave us all that He has. As St. Paul says in Rom 8:32, “He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all – how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?” Because God gave us and continues yet to give us Jesus, His Son, God gave and still gives us not His “extra” but His everything. God is the God of the “extras” because of His extra gifts to us but His gifts are far from being extras among what He has. Collectively represented as they are in Christ Jesus, they are all that God has.

In our Christian mandate to strive to be like God, we, too, are called to be men and women of the “extras”. However, being men and women of the “extras” does not mean giving to others what are actually extras among what we have. The difficult and perennial challenge of mirroring God to others is in our giving not from our extras but from our needs as well.

When we give anything to someone or do something to anyone, we have to answer honestly this one important question we, unfortunately, often overlook or ignore: Where does our gift come from? If our gift comes from our extras, then we are not reflecting God at all.

Too sad, sometimes, the poor, to whom so-called generous people give their extras, become willing recipients of various refuse: old clothes, tattered shoes, canned goods whose expiration dates are nearing or have already passed, and other rejects. While God supplies us with all that He has, many give to others from the extra they possess. Too bad, at times, that also means giving from their refuse. Lent is an opportune time for us to reflect on this wrong but seldom questioned practice.

Remember: God always gives us extras not from His extras because He does not treat us as “extras”. For God, we are the “stars”!

JUST A STOPOVER: LISTEN THEN MOVE ON

2nd Sunday of Lent
Lk 9:28-36

One of the images we have about life is the image of a journey. We journey through life. And no one can make that journey for us.

In the journey called life, the road is not always smooth and straight. There are rough and bending path along the way. Our journey in itself may be marked with some detours and even u-turns. We sail seas and swim rivers, enter tunnels and explore forests, stray in wastelands and bask in a field of wheat. But there is nothing more overwhelming than mountains in life.

No one can ignore a mountain. By its very nature, a mountain is imposing. We can either cross it or go around it. We can conquer it or it can conquer us. Conquering a mountain means climbing it. Cursing it means being conquered by it.

Jesus faces a mountain today. He does not curse it; He climbs it. He does not take the easy way by going around it; He makes the difficult choice of scaling it. Jesus does not allow His mountain to conquer Him; He conquers it instead.

Mountains are not only geographical elevations. They are also crisis-situations. Their height and width may mean either consolation or desolation to us. Mountains are not only peaks along our journey in life; they can also be crossroads. Every crossroad is a moment of crisis. Depending on how we respond to it, a crisis may mean grace or disgrace, blessing or chastisement, a bend or a block, a beginning or an end. The same is true with our mountains in life.

Jesus, in becoming one like us in all things but sin, shares in the journey we call “life”. He, too, has His own mountains. Jesus has His days of consolation and nights of desolation. He has His moments of standing at the center of crossroads. He, too, has His crises. But no matter what, He conquers all His mountains. Today, He shows us how we should conquer ours.

Let us take a step backward for a moment. Last Sunday, in the wilderness, we heard Satan tempting Jesus. Each time Satan tempted Him, Satan would begin with this phrase: “If You are the Son of God.” Satan wanted Jesus to prove Himself by means contrary to God’s will. Jesus heard Satan but He did not listen to Him. He did not give in to his temptations. Rather, Jesus fought Satan’s temptations with the Word of God.

Today, on top of a mountain, we hear a voice from a cloud, saying, “This is My Son, the Chosen One. Listen to Him.” God does not only affirm that Jesus is His Son but also that Jesus is the Christ, the Christos, the Chosen, the Anointed, One. We hear the voice and the voice wants us to listen. Let us give in to it. Let us listen to Jesus, the Word of that voice.

By climbing His mountain, Jesus tells us that we should climb ours. Let us climb our mountains; let us not curse them. Conquer our mountains; do not let them conquer us. For we have what it takes to scale our mountains because we, too, are sons and daughters of God. We are not the Chosen One but we have been chosen in Him who climbs His mountain with us today.

Jesus does not climb His mountain alone. While no one can climb His mountain for Him, Jesus nonetheless took three of His closest friends – Simon Peter, James, and John. Common interpretation of this action of Jesus is that Jesus wants His three disciples to witness His real glory before He endures His agony. However, nothing hinders us – most especially if we truly believe that Jesus is not only God but is also truly human – to contemplate on Jesus taking His closest friends with Him in climbing His mountain because He longs for the assurance of their love and support. Jesus comes closer and closer to His cross and while it can be very frightening to die, it can even be more frightening to die alone.

After climbing His mountain, Jesus goes down from it. Mountains are not meant to be anyone’s permanent address. The breathtaking view from the top of a mountain can be tempting in itself for anyone to pitch his tent there and forget that he is just passing by as he makes his journey called “life”. Jesus shows us that we go up our mountains in order to go down from them. Reaching the top of our mountains is not yet conquering our mountains. Going down from them is. Many think – and they are gravely mistaken – that mountain climbing is about reaching the top of a mountain. No. Mountain climbing is about reaching the summit and returning to the base. For a mountain is worth climbing only if it is possible to go down from it.

We journey in life. We journey through life. Our journey in life takes us in and through Lent once more. On the one hand, Jesus helps us feel and recognize His presence with us as we make our journey through this season. On the other hand, we accompany Jesus make His journey to Jerusalem where He will die on top of another mountain. Together with Jesus, we make a “trip to Jerusalem”, the kind of “trip to Jerusalem” that is not similar to what we play during parties. It is not the kind of “trip to Jerusalem” that goes around chairs; rather, it is the one that climbs mountains. It is not about scrambling for seats to win the game, but about carrying crosses to gain eternal life. This one is the original “trip to Jerusalem”. Today, we make a stopover on top of a mountain. We listen. Then, we go down to move on.

LESSONS ON COMMUNITY LIFE

Friday in the 1st Week of Lent
Mt 5:20-26

Are we on the defensive or on the offensive? We are on the defensive when someone is attacking us. When we are the ones attacking, we are on the offensive. How about if we are neither on the defensive nor on the offensive, where are we then? If we are not attacking and neither are we being attacked, what are we doing then? Can it be that we are on the sides watching the offensive mercilessly attack the defensive? Or can it be that we are at the center as unwilling casualties of the endless exchange of attacks? Wherever we are and whatever we are doing, Jesus teaches us today three very important lessons on community life.

First, surpass the virtue of the scribes and Pharisees. Justice is an essential virtue. All communities should be governed justly. The well-meaning scribes and Pharisees strive to live justly: “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth”. But there is a virtue higher than justice. We call it “mercy”. And mercy is God’s greatest attribute. Mercy is not the absence of justice. Mercy is justice anticipated. Mercy does not condone the attacker. Mercy, rather, restores whatever has been rendered wrong. But mercy also restores the wrongdoer. Justice can be brutal; mercy tempers it. Let us make our communities merciful even as they are just.

Second, if you have to be angry, be angry with something and not with someone. Hate the sin, not the sinner. Kill the act, not the actor. Anger, when directed towards someone, is always a creeping homicide. And beware: anger slaughters not the defensive but the offensive as well. Do not allow anger continue liquidating us; let us liquidate anger instead.

Third, take the initiative. Many minor misunderstandings become epic wars simply because no one wants to take the initiative toward sincere reconciliation. This lack of initiative is more than due to laziness. More often than not, parties in conflict refuse to take the reconciliatory initiative because of pride. There is no competition so futile than the competition on being the first to say “I’m sorry”. Our communities thrive on our individual and collective initiative; they will never survive, however, without reconciliation among their top initiatives.

Lent is not only a special time for self-renewal. It is also very much a grace-filled opportunity for the renewal of our communities. It is a chance for us to grow not only in our communities but also with our communities. As we improve on our personal Christian discipleship, our communities improve on their being Church. And while our communities improve on their being Church, our personal Christian discipleship improves as well.

Are we on the defensive or on the offensive? Do we attack or are we attacked? Are we on the sides or are we at the center?

Be merciful. Be angry with something and not with someone. Be the first to reconcile. Be like Jesus, our Peace.

WE CAN CHANGE THE STORY

4th Sunday of Lent
Lk 15:1-3,11-32

The Gospel today comes from the 15th chapter of the gospel according to St. Luke. This chapter speaks about three loses: a lost sheep, a lost coin, and, today’s Gospel, a lost son. Indeed, it is a chapter that is rather too short to have too many loses.

Beginning with a lost animal, the 15th chapter of St. Luke’s gospel ends with a lost person. Developing with a gradual but steady rise in tension, Luke dramatically narrates to us how one lost sheep is favored over the ninety-nine remaining, how a lost coin is valued more than its apparent worth, and two sons loved by their father more than they know.

Luke 15 is a gospel within the Gospel. It is a gem among all the parables of Jesus. It highlights the core message of the Good News we preach and are ready to die for: God loves us more than we know.

We have two sons in the Gospel today. Quite often, our attention and reflection as regards this parable is focused on the younger son who, after taking his inheritance even as his father is far from being in danger of death, left home and squandered the said inheritance from dissolute living. Let us not forget that he has an elder brother who stayed at home with their father, ever obedient, but not as gracious as their father is. The truth is, their father lost them both.

The father lost his younger son because the younger son literally and physically left home. But he likewise lost his first-born who, though not leaving his side, never considered himself a son, but a slave, after all. Nonetheless, despite abandoning him in their own unique ways, the father loves them both.

It is easy for most of us to identify with the younger son. His transgressions against his father are too pronounced to be ignored and too common not to spot in our selves. Let us, therefore, spend time reflecting on the elder son instead for now.

The father lost his elder son, his first-born, without physically missing his presence. The elder son did not leave home. He stayed with his father and, as he himself reminded the father, was very obedient to him. Yet despite his dedication to his father, his father lost him. Indeed he his was a selfless obedience because he had no self to begin with. He has lost his identity.

At the return of the younger brother, the elder was furious. He refused to go in and join the welcome party. Instead, he berated his father with a list of what seems what his father owed him for his servitude. Now we know why.

“All these years,” the elder son complained to his father, “I have slaved for you. I have not disobeyed any of your orders. Yet you have not given me even just a kid goat to feast on with my friends.” Aha! The elder son’s opening salvo immediately betrays his understanding of who he is in relation to their father: a slave. His was not obedience but servitude after all. Moreover, he was expecting payment for the services he rendered his father. The least he expected was a kid goat to feast on with his friends. So unfortunate, the elder son forgot that in the father’s house, there are no slaves, only children. Thus, the father, when he had his turn to speak, immediately reminded his first-born who he really is. He said, “My son.”

But the elder son was far from over with his wrath and fury. “But when this son of yours came,” he continued, never giving his father the chance to rebut, “you even killed the fatted calf for him?” So, it was just a kid goat that he wanted after all, was it? Why then did he not ask it from his father? The fact is, he did not even need to ask permission from his father before slaughtering any of their livestock to serve to his friends. All that he had to do was to inform him, “Dad, I’m having a party with my friends. I want to serve them kilawin or kaldereta, so I’m getting a kid goat from the farm today…just in case you wonder why you’re missing one.” But the thought escaped him because slaves neither think nor act that way. And he considered himself a slave, remember?

Thus, the father reminded him again, “…you are with me always and all I have is yours.” What a pity for the elder son, his eyes were on a kid goat but his heart was not for his brother. When the father told him, “all I have is yours”, that “all” includes the younger son. Therefore, he whom the elder son refers to as “this son of yours” is actually a helpless attempt to avoid saying “this brother of mine”. The elder son simply refused to be identified with he whom most of us usually easily dismissed as the family’s “black sheep” – the wayward brother. But firmly yet gently, the father gave the punch of tough love: “But it is only right we should celebrate and rejoice,” his father told him, “because your brother here was dead and has come to life; he was lost and is found.”

I heard a preacher once remarked that it is not accidental that this parable is left hanging, without an ending. The story leaves a question in our mind: Did or did not the elder son go inside the house and join the celebration? The preacher I heard said that this parable does not have an ending because it precisely has not ended yet. We continue the story of this parable by the kind of life we live. This parable is our biography. Sometimes, we are the younger son. Sometimes, we are the elder son. And sometimes, we are father too.

The question now is: At this point in our life, who are we in the parable? Let us be careful with our answer because, through our answer, we can change the story, you know.

A SPECIAL TIME TO VISIT OUR HEARTS

Thursday in the 1st Week of Lent
Mt 7:7-12

Jesus had no formal education. He never enrolled in a rabbinic school that could have trained Him for a preaching career. He did not defend a dissertation for a masteral or doctoral degree. Yet His wisdom surpassed that of His contemporaries. Where did He get what He taught? Only one word immediately comes to mind: experience.

Jesus taught not from the books but from experience. He knew what He taught very well not because He read about them in a very well written study but because He experienced them Himself.

Jesus said, “Ask and it will be given you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For anyone who asks always receives; anyone who seeks always finds; and to anyone who knocks the door will always be opened.” Where did He learn this kind of logic? From His experience of His very own Father who is God Himself.

Do we not have a saying that says, “Experience is the best teacher”? Then, it follows that the best lessons are the lessons drawn out from experience.

Jesus had no diploma hanging in His room. He had not titles before His name to designate a profession. He had no abbreviations of any degree to write after His name. He was simply Jesus. We recognize Him though as “The Christ”.

Next time we try to teach someone about God, let us not go to the library to do a research. Let us go deep into our hearts to reflect on our personal relationship with Him. Lent is a special time to do that.