OUR REASON TO HOPE

1st Sunday of Advent
Lk 21:25-28; 34-36

The new liturgical year begins with the gospel about the end of the world. Strange! Does the Church want to frighten us? Should we cow in fear?

Indeed the picture of the end times that the gospel today paints for us is horrifying. But it is not intended to scare or intimidate us. Instead, the Church wants to remind us of what we often forget: Be prepared! Indeed, we should be prepared for the coming of that day when the world ends so that when it is here, we can stand erect and hold our heads high, as Christ admonishes us today. If we prepare for His final coming, we can stand with confidence before the Son of Man. The antidote to fear of Jesus’ glorious return at the end of time is to be prepared for it.

The last stroke of time is the first blow of eternity. As the flags of all nations are brought down from their poles, the flag of the kingdom of Christ the King is hoisted above all of creation. Not tragedy but liberation – this is how Jesus sees the end. In His view, the end of the present order is a prelude to the perfect order that the new heavens and the new earth shall bring. The final coming of Jesus is certainly not comic, but it is also not tragic. It is liberating. With all of creation, it is our final liberation.

However, like the prophets who appeared before Him, Jesus draws a horrendous picture of the future to influence what is happening in the present. He does not want fear to paralyze us; rather, He wants to strengthen us and spur us to action. The real purpose of speaking about the last days is to be able to say something about today – we must be vigilant. And since the future is determined by those who have shared responsibility in forming it, we, indeed, must remain awake and alert to what is happening in the present. Tomorrow begins right where we are now.

The gospel today encourages us to do two things that are really difficult to combine: to be realistic about the way things are going in the world and to never lose hope in the future. Difficult indeed! Rather often, the danger is this: we see very clearly the horrors – take, for example, the recent tragedy brought upon us by the twin super typhoons Ondoy and Pepe and the unspeakable, diabolic Maguindanao massacre – so much so that we may lose even the slightest vision of any reason for us to continue hoping. Thus, we need Jesus very much to convince us about the future that is truly liberating. Although our gospel today comes from the final discourse of Jesus to His disciples during the Last Supper, it is His entire life --- from birth in a manger through death on the cross – that is the best way of Jesus to convince us about the perfect freedom that the future brings with it.

This is one of the many blessings of Advent: we do not need to live hopeless. And, indeed, with the recent tragedies in our nation, we, Filipinos certainly need this blessing. Now more than ever, we need this season of hope. We need Advent to remind us and to convince us that we truly need not live hopeless. All we need is to remember the story of Jesus. We likewise must tell His story over and over again – both through words and actions. Making His story our story, His life our life, His loving our loving, too. And the memory of that love will provide us the reason we need to keep on hoping. The future has hope only because we are convinced of God’s actions in the past. We must keep on making that past present again, not by simple reminiscing or by addictive nostalgia but by living our lives as Jesus showed us how. In doing so, we retell the story of God’s love for us – a love that is both tender and tough, a Father’s love that is quick to affirm but not slow to discipline.

This story of God’s love for us in Christ Jesus begins with every Advent. We need to be reminded of the love of God. We have to check the record to assure our selves. Then, we see how wide, how great, how deep, and how strong the love of God for us is as we look on His greatest and priceless gift for us – His own Son, Jesus. Unless we fix our eyes on Jesus, we have no reason to hope.

THE INTERVIEW

Solemnity of Christ the King of the Universe
Jn 18:33-37

Five persons went for a job interview. They were strangers to one another. Though coming from different points, they reached the office almost together, an hour ahead of schedule. Upon arriving, they sat just outside the room for the interview, waiting for THE “moment”. There was no secretary. Instead, a computer printout was posted on the door: “Knock before you enter. Interview starts at 10:00 A.M. Enter one at a time, with a thirty-minute interval. After your interview, exit through the back door inside the room. Thank you.”

When ten o’clock arrived, the applicants started going in one by one with a thirty-minute interval as instructed. Finally, it was the last applicant’s turn – he stood up, approached the door, knocked, and entered. Upon entering, he was greatly surprised and confused by what he saw: seated in front of him were the other four applicants who went inside the room ahead of him. They were the ones to interview him after all! The interview was over.

There is also an interview in the gospel today. The interviewer is the governor of Judea – Pontius Pilate – and Jesus – the itinerant preacher from Galilee – is the interviewee. Where we stand in the history of humanity, we already know that this interview is far from the ordinary. It changed the entire history of humankind. But for now, as it happens in the gospel, there are no cameras to capture the moment, no gadgets to record the exchange, no media coverage. No other people are in the room – only Jesus and Pilate.

For the colonizers, any feast can be exploited by the Jews for rebellion against Rome. This forthcoming feast is the most volatile: it is the Great Pasch. Thus, Pilate arrived in Jerusalem, days ago, with a battalion of Roman soldiers. They are on red alert.

On this Pasch, the Jewish authorities handed over Jesus – a fellow Jew – to Pilate, the Procurator sent by Caesar from Rome. If he has his way, Pilate does not want to have anything to do with any conflicts of Jews among themselves; thus, how he wishes he could simply return Jesus to His accusers. But the accusers of the Galilean do not want Him back because they cannot put Him to death. And death is what they want for Jesus. Pilate, for his part, cannot help but be intrigued: “What is it in this Jesus that the elders and leaders – religious and others – of the people are so fuming mad at Him?” In the eyes of Pilate, Jesus is a perfect picture of serenity, meekness, and passivity. Jesus does not have armed forces that may threaten Caesar. Instead, Pilate even heard that Jesus’ teachings carry the recurring theme of love, forgiveness, gratefulness, and other values that Rome has nothing to worry about. The most Pilate can make sense of Jesus is that He is a lunatic. What adds to his confusion is his wife’s nightmare about Jesus, just the night before. So, what is it with Jesus? Pilate wants to know the truth. Does he? Really? Well, it seems.

Thus, Pilate interviews Jesus: “Are You the King of the Jews?” Amazing how Jesus turns the table. Upon answering the interviewer’s question, the INTERVIEWEE becomes the INTERROGATOR: “Do you say that of your own or others have told you so?” Clearly, now, Jesus cross-examines Pilate. If the governor interrogates the accused, the accused also has His own agendum in questioning the governor. But Pilate is not interested. Instead, betraying the grip of fear on him, he defends himself and reacts: “Am I a Jew? It is Your own people brought You to me.” Now tragedy has become a comedy: Pilate is now on the defense and Jesus prosecutes, Jesus sustains His bearing while Pilate struggles to hide his fear, Jesus interviews Pilate when Pilate should interview Jesus.

Jesus, nonetheless, assures Pilate there is nothing to fret about: His kingdom does not march to the drumbeat of political struggle. His kingdom is the kingdom of truth. “Veritas? Qui est veritas?” Pilate surrenders in his ignorance.

Truth? It seems that that is Pontius Pilate’s primary problem. He sees that Jesus is innocent but he allows himself to be intimidated by the shouts of the crowd.

Here is one good example that the saying “Vox Populi, Vox Dei” is not always correct, most especially when those who impose themselves on the people have already paid the populi. Pilate is afraid to be kicked out of Caesar’s graces because the people threatened him that they would bring the matter to Caesar if he would not act on the case of Jesus – swiftly and according to their demand for blood. If Pilate acts according to the truth, he will free Jesus. But, we already know that he will not. Perhaps, he is concerned with Jesus’ welfare – what with the interview he granted Him – but Pilate is not faithful to the truth he has come to know: Jesus is not guilty. No matter how strong this truth is, it has not effect on the decision and action of Pilate. Pilate fails the interview. He flanks because he fails to satisfy the first condition of giving witness to the truth.

How about us – will we pass the interview of Christ?

Quite often, we fail. We have our weaknesses, shortcomings, and sins. Each of us has a share of the guilt for the proliferation of lies and the suppression of the truth in our society. And, indeed, silence is enough for evil to triumph.

But knowing the truth is also not enough. Many know the truth but are not truthful at all. Take for example the lot of our own nation. While our beloved Philippines is the first Christian nation in the Far East, it is among the most corrupt countries in the world. We have well educated leaders – many of them earned their degrees in renowned universities and colleges both here and abroad, some even are Catholic institutions. Most of our leaders are intelligent: they know the truth. But are all of them truthful?

The truth is, he who knows the truth but is not truthful is more dangerous than he who is truthful but does not know the truth. For the former can twist the truth, break it into pieces, and slaughter it with the hatchet of lies. Jesus suffered death by crucifixion because of one who knew the truth – and had the power to uphold it – but was not truthful at all. Pontius Pilate was his name – the first trapo (traditional politician).

But Jesus – even at the height of His suffering up unto Calvary – remained steadfast in His witness to the truth, trusting the Father through and through, even as His accusers reviled Him and His friends deserted Him. His suffering did not ease even a bit. His wounds did not heal. But He remains truthful.

With compassionate service and life-giving love, enduring witness to truth is the sign of Jesus’ true kingship. And as His disciples, we shall be measured against our witnessing to His truth, to His love, to His life. The interview for those who wish to belong to His everlasting kingdom happens here and now. When we knock on the door and enter the room, may we not be surprised to see the familiar faces of our interviewers.

BEYOND THE HOLY MOUNTAIN

33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mk 13:24-32

There is a story about a certain tribe that lives at the foot of a high and revered mountain. The king lies on his deathbed and calls his three sons. “My sons,” the king said, “my days are already numbered. Before I depart from this world, I must choose from among you one who will be king after me.” The faces of the three princes fall at the dying words of their father-king. “To help me choose,” the king continues, “I give each of you the task to climb the holy mountain and bring me back whatever outstanding you find there. Whoever among you can bring me the most outstanding from the holy mountain is worthy to rule the kingdom after I have departed from this world.”

The three princes immediately begin their search. Each takes a different path but all leading to the top of the holy mountain. After a few days, they return. The eldest holds a colorful and fragrant flower that grows on top of the holy mountain only. The second presents his catch: a wild and strong animal. But the youngest has nothing but empty hands.

“Father,” the youngest explains, “I have nothing to show you. I cannot bring home what I saw. While standing on top of the holy mountain, I saw that beyond our kingdom is a very beautiful land – vast and fertile with trees and plants. The land is reddish and the various animals roam around. A wide and flowing river divides the land. I was so engrossed with what I saw and I realized that I was already looking at where our tribe can go for a better life. I cannot bring home what I saw but I can strive to bring our people there.” And the king said: “You, my youngest, are the one worthy to rule over our tribe because you are the one who brought home the most important thing – the vision of a better future.

This beautiful story is not from the Holy Bible, but the Holy Bible has many stories of great figures who, having the premonition that their lives were about to end, gathered their sons or their followers for a final speech composed of blessings and instructions. Before Jacob died, he called and blest his twelve sons from whom came the twelve tribes of Israel. Before Moses passed away, he encouraged the Israelites to be steadfast and appointed Joshua as his successor in leading them. Before the he died, King David also made a farewell speech to his officials and passed on his scepter to Solomon. Even Jesus – prior to His death gathered His disciples and gave them His last teaching about the future. He instructed them on how they should conduct themselves in the midst of conflicts and persecutions. The gospel read today in this Mass is part of that final pronouncement of Jesus.

“In those days, after that time of tribulation…” – this is how the gospel today begins. But what does Jesus mean with His “in those days”? And what kind of tribulation is He referring to? The gospel today is taken from the thirteenth chapter of the gospel according to Mark. This part of the gospel of Mark is the most difficult to comprehend. The key, however, in understanding it is in reading the entire thirteenth chapter. And when we do read that entire chapter, we realize that Jesus’ “in those days” does not mean any exact time or date but the period between Jesus’ proclamation and the end of the world. Thus, clearly, our today is “in those days” too. We live in that time of tribulation.

But it certainly shall end.

It is very important to remember that St. Mark wrote his gospel during the start of the widespread persecution of Christians in Rome. No doubt, the persecuted disciples of Jesus wondered if the end was already near. In fact, a keen reader of the Pauline epistles can sense in the Apostle’s letters, especially to the Thessalonians, his seeming belief that Jesus’ Second Coming would happen during his lifetime. But two thousand years have already passed and Jesus has not returned yet and the end of the present order remains a possibility. This, however, does not mean Jesus will not return and the world will never end. All it says is that Jesus has not returned yet and the world – as we know it – remains intact. Thus, what humans can do is think about and prepare for that moment.

A literary genre eventually evolved: the apocalyptic writings whose main purpose is not to frighten us with the horrors of what is yet to come but to teach us to look beyond it with vibrant hope. Even Jesus looks at that moment when He, the Son of Man, shall appear to all and gather into Himself the scattered People of God. Even now, in the gospel, Jesus already sees beyond the present and future tribulations: the reign of God’s eternal peace.

For the readers of St. Mark from the early Christian community, such a vision of peace was very important. They were in a journey toward the peace that both they envision and that Jesus promised. But their journey passes through tribulations and sufferings, including physical death. They needed help to see beyond their sorrows, trials, persecutions, and death. We also need the same help, do we not? And as they, the early Christians, were able to share in the vision of Jesus, we pray that we may be able to do the same.

We do not know many things. We cannot do many things. We have many worries and fears. But, there is one thing we know, we can, and we are sure about: we may hold on the words of Jesus. “Heaven and earth shall pass away,” He said, “but My words will never pass away.” It is our holding on to His word that will carry us through the mountain of sorrows, mountain of sufferings, mountain of anxieties, mountain of tribulations; and, like the youngest prince in the opening story of our reflection, see beyond them and gain a vision of God’s peace. That peace will not come upon us. We will come upon it. And one word is all we need: Jesus. For Jesus is our Peace. That is already more than enough for us.

A CHEWING GUM FOR ME, A TREASURE FOR GOD

32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mk 12:38-44

In the gospel, scribes are lawyers. Usually, lawyers try the accused. But today, they are the accused.

Jesus accuses the scribes. He criticizes them because they love to parade in their long robes, they hunger for people’s adulation, they scramble for the places of honor in the synagogues and special seats in banquets, and they show off their piety by reciting long prayers for people to hear and notice. But, most of all, they exploit widows: they live on whatever widows have for their livelihood. Jesus’ judgment on the scribes is heavy: the punishment for them will be more severe than for those whom they easily dismiss as law-breakers.

If, indeed, they live on widows’ livelihood, Jesus has the best witness against them. Jesus turns the table against the scribes by the mite of a widow.

In the Temple, the court for women has thirteen trumpet-shaped collection boxes into which people drop their contribution for the operational expenses of the House of God. Those who offer sizeable amounts are many. And while some flaunt the value of their offering, a poor widow arrives quietly, humbly approaches a collection box, and gladly offers her two cents. In the arithmetic of God’s kingdom, the poor widow’s offering is worth more than the offerings of many. Why? For, while many give from their surplus, she gives all that she has. She gives everything. Two cents is all that she has.

Two cents – that is all that she has to live on. She could have said, “O Yahweh, this is all that I have: two cents. But I’ll share it with You: one for You, one for me. There it is, fair and just between you and me.” But, no. Her generosity is reckless. Her offering, prodigal. For the world she is plainly crazy. But for Jesus, true generosity is measured not by what we give but by what is left with us after we have given. Nothing is left with that poor widow after she made her offering. Her offering is most pleasing to God among the many other offerings. She has nothing to offer anymore. She already offered everything she had.

In the gospel of Mark, this story about the poor widow is rightfully placed. It illustrates beautifully what Jesus will do to Himself – He will give everything as an offering to God. When He finishes giving, nothing more will be left for Him to give. He will offer everything. He will offer to everyone. That is the kind of piety Jesus has. Is that not the Eucharist? And, for us, disciples of Jesus, the Eucharist is the source and summit, the beginning and end of life.

Jesus hopes that His disciples would take the cue from His example of true holiness, and not from the scribes who hunger for the adulation that people give. He hopes that we, His disciples, would strive to imitate His generosity with anything we have – be it time, talent, or treasure.

We are challenged to offer not from our abundance but from our substance. We must feel the pain in our giving, for unless we do, the motive behind our giving can really be questionable.

Does our offering have substance or do we give right and left simply because we so much? And our “so much” here reads “extra”. Do we not catch our selves saying, “I’ll give this before it rots,” “I’ll offer this now less it spoils,” “The expiration date is still next week, I might as well bring this to church tomorrow for the offertory”? Open your cabinets and boxes at home, and see if many of their contents you do not use anyway. Those things are not yours anymore. Give them away. That pair of shoes you never use is stolen from the barefooted. That food you throw away is stolen from the table of the hungry. That clothing you once said you would be able to wear someday – when will that “someday” be? Do you weigh less today than when you first said that “someday”? What is that one year old, unused signature shirt doing in your closet? It is staring at you while you lament over your figure for the last five years!

This is what it means to give from our substance: to give not from our surplus but even from our limited resources. The point of reference here is not our extras but the needs that others have and for which we can sacrifice. And this is what it means to be like Jesus: give not only from your substance; give, rather, your very substance. Another name for this is “dying to one’s self”. That certainly hurts. It does always hurt because after giving we fell that indeed we have nothing anymore. But Christian spirituality has nothing to do with any sacrifice, except one: the sacrifice that gives life. And giving as Jesus gives is life-giving sacrifice.

Each day we face the challenge of being disciples of Jesus. We are called to be generous in our love, forgiveness, patience, compassion, time, talent, and treasure. Yet, it is not enough to give. Our gift must be substantial – substantial because we give nothing less than our very self. When we do this with sincere love, Jesus supports us and, like the other widow in the first reading today, we should not fear seeing our jars empty because we trust in the fatherly providence of God. He takes care of those who hopes and trust in Him.

When I was a little boy, I could buy two Texas, a favorite chewing gum back then, for one cent only. Now that I am a priest, one cent can buy nothing at all. Perhaps, sari-sari stores do not even sell Texas anymore. But in the gospel, there was, there is, and there will always be that one poor widow who gives more than what the others give to the Temple: her two cents. That would be four chewing gums for me, thirty-five years ago! But two cents can already be a treasure for God.

JUDGED ON LOVE

Solemnity of All Saints
Mt 5:1-12

The celebration of the Solemnity of All Saints dates as far back as the papacy of Boniface IV in the years 608 through 615. On May 13, 610, Pope Boniface IV had the remains of many martyrs transferred to a church dedicated to Mary, the Mother of God, and to all the Holy Martyrs. That church, named Pantheon, was once a pagan temple to all the gods. To commemorate that great day, the Feast of All the Martyrs was instituted.

Almost one hundred years thereafter, Pope Gregory III (731-741 A.D.) consecrated a new chapel in the Basilica of St. Peter on the first day of November. He dedicated it not only to the martyrs but to all the saints. From then on, the dedication of that chapel was celebrated annually on November 1, the date that was also officially made the feast of all saints. After another century, Pope Gregory IV (827-844 A.D.) extended the celebration of the feast to the Universal Church.

The cult of the saints started very early in the history of the Church. In the beginning the persecution of the disciples of Jesus of Nazareth was rather sporadic and in pockets only. Inspired by the heroic faith of the martyrs, the early Christians easily developed deep reverence for them, emulating their exemplary life and praying for their heavenly aid. Eventually, widespread persecution of Christians started during the reign of Emperor Nero, as he falsely accused the followers of Jesus with the burning Rome, the imperial city. However, even pagan historians claimed that Nero – in his madness – had the city reduced to ashes, watching the inferno from his palace as he fiddled his violin. Indeed, the Christians were easy scapegoats for Nero’s incompetence and insanity; thereby, turning the tide of the general populace against them. From then on, countless Christians suffered tortures and death. It was said that the evenings in Rome were brightly lit, for Christians served as human torches.

It was only during the reign of Emperor Constantine, son of St. Helen, that the widespread persecution of Christians stopped. Constantine was kind to the Christians, allowing them to worship and to practice their religion in public. In the imperial court were some Christians, too. Later on, Catholicism became the official religion of the Roman Empire, and Constantine himself was baptized prior to his death.

The word “martyr” came from the Greek word marturion, meaning, “witness”. Martyrs are Christians who gave witness to their faith even unto the shedding of blood. However, instead of bringing the downfall of Christianity, the widespread persecution of the disciples of Jesus gave birth to even more disciples. As the historian Tertullian wrote, “The blood of the martyrs became the seed for new Christians.”

It is fitting therefore that the Church venerates and pays tribute to the martyrs. However, there were also Christians who, though not dying for the faith, exemplified outstanding virtues in following the Lord Jesus. They, too, should be venerated and given tribute. They, too, must serve as models for all Christians. They, too, are causes of our joy and gratitude to God. Thus, the former Feast of All Martyrs was changed to the present Solemnity of All Saints. These saints – men and women from all times and places – are countless and God alone knows their names. Like you and me, they were ordinary people

Ordinary people – that is precisely what saints are! Saints are ordinary persons like you and me. They too had sinned and had their share of human imperfections. But they struggled to rise each time they fall. They strove to live as Jesus lived and to love as Jesus loved. That is why it is very important that we celebrate the Solemnity of All Saints. Celebrating the Solemnity of All Saints reminds us that while not all of us may die for the Faith, we are nonetheless challenged to die to our selves – to our selfishness, pride, greed, laziness, lust, anger, envy, gluttony – in a word, to our sins. The path to holiness is not always covered with blood, but it always passes through the Way of the Cross – the way of dying to one’s self and rising to new life. By this, the Christian participates in the Paschal Mystery of Jesus Christ.

The ultimate joy of any disciple is to become like his master. Jesus is our Master; our ultimate joy is to become like Him. And the saints are models for us to persevere and not to lose hope despite our weaknesses. St. Bernard Clairvaux wrote: “When I think of the saints, I feel the desire to be like them is ignited in me.” St. Ignatius of Loyola has this: “If St. Francis of Assisi or St. Dominic could do it, I am certain that I could do it even better.” The more we look at the saints, the more we grow in the longing to live in God and with God. Holiness is contagious.

Let us be saints together. Let us help one another to be holy. Let us contaminate one another with holiness.

What then is holiness? Holiness is the perfection of charity. The more loving you are the more holy you are. When we strive to love as Jesus loves, we are giving witness to the Kingdom of God; we are martyrs; we are saints. Listen to what St. John the Evangelist wrote: “Beloved, let us love one another because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten of God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love…and whoever lives in love lives in God and God in him” (1 John 4:7-8,16). If to be a saint means to belong to God, then, indeed, it means to love. If to be a saint means to know God, then, indeed, it means to love. If to be a saint means to share the same address with God, then, yes, indeed, it means to love. As Jesus Himself exemplified to us, our love must be seen in the good deeds of our day-to-day living. And “good” here means sacrificial and life-giving, as Jesus showed us by putting His life on the line, dying for us so that we may live truly and fully.

There is a long queue of celebrity wannabes today, but the line of aspiring saints is short. There is a fierce fight for power today in all its forms, but outdoing one another in love is lukewarm on many counts. There is a consuming enthusiasm for changing trends, but the unchanging call to holiness is ignored by not a few. The twin celebration today and tomorrow – the Solemnity of All Saints and the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed – gives us a lesson we must never forget in the midst of all the ironies of life: as St. John of the Cross said, “At the twilight of life, we shall be judged on love.”