THE BROKEN ROOF: BREAKING THE EXCLUSIVITY OF FORGIVING

7^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Is 43:18-19, 21-22, 24-25 / Ps 41 / 2 Cor 1:18-22 / Mk 2:1-12

For two Sundays already, the Word of God has been guiding us through a deep reflection on the mystery of human suffering.  Two Sundays ago, we met a man named Job who, despite his righteousness, suffered unimaginably.  With the Old Testament view on human suffering as punishment for sins committed, the righteous Job echoes one of the most disturbing questions of man: “Why do the righteous suffer while the wicked prosper?”  That same Sunday, we saw Jesus surrounded by seemingly endless human suffering.  But while Jesus also had His own questions about human suffering, He was never satisfied with mere questioning.  He moved and cared for the suffering people around Him.  He healed them as much as He could and as much as they believed He could.  But more than performing miracles to alleviate the sufferings of those who went to Him, Jesus entered into the experience of human suffering, including death itself.  His questions about sufferings were not only about those of others but of His own sufferings as well, for He, too, though most righteous of all men, was persecuted, tortured, and murdered.  Yet, Jesus did not allow His own sufferings to imprison Him and make Him love less.  He shared in the sufferings of others even as He Himself was suffering too.

Last Sunday, leprosy took center-stage.  Jesus healed a leper by touching him.  Clearly, with the first reading last Sunday (Lev 13:1-2, 44-46) read before the Gospel was proclaimed, Jesus’ touching the leper, though it miraculously restored the leper to good health, painted a disturbing picture of Jesus – that of a law-breaker.  But, still, St. Paul the Apostle, in last Sunday’s second reading (1 Cor 10:31-11:1), presented Jesus, the “law-breaker”, as worthy of being imitated.  He even sounded with holy pride when St. Paul admonished us all: “Be imitators of me as I am of Christ.”  For if breaking the law means restoring a man his health and dignity, then, indeed, let us all be law-breakers.  Love is the greatest of all commandments and, therefore, should summarize all laws.  Loving – true and right loving – fulfills all moral laws.

But there is another kind of suffering that debilitates human beings more than physical and biological sufferings do.  Jesus calls it sin and shows us today that it is actually the easiest to heal among all human sufferings.

Four friends bring a paralytic to Jesus because they believe that Jesus can do something to ease the pain of their suffering friend.  The house is already jam packed.  There is no way they can bring their friend any inch closer to Jesus.  But they know how to bring their suffering friend to Jesus’ attention.  Breaking the roof above Jesus, they lower down their paralytic friend right in front of Jesus.  Perhaps amused, but more amazed, Jesus immediately sees the daring faith of the paralytic’s friends.  It is not manly arms but manly faith that broke the roof after all, just as it is the power of faith and not the force of law that breaks hearts so as to make them bleed for others.  More than a broken roof above Him, Jesus now sees a broken man before Him and tells him, “Child, your sins are forgiven.”

Surprise!  The surprise is that Jesus forgives the sins of the paralytic when those around them are expecting a cure.  Of course, they believe that restoring a sinner to grace is far more important than restoring a paralytic to health.  But that is not what they expect to see.  Thus, they are disappointed, not only surprised.

How many of us are likewise disappointed when we should actually be surprised by God?  Is it not true that we are disappointed because we expect God to follow our dictates rather than we following His will?  Imagine how many wonderful surprises from God we do not recognize and, therefore, fail to thank Him for because we refuse to see things the way God sees them.  How many miracles intended for us by God go to waste because we do not accept them since they do not conform to our own definition of what miracles should be?  Consider how less disappointed we can be and, therefore, happier, if only we really make God’s values our values, God’s ways our ways, God’s priorities our priorities in life.

The Word of God reminds us today to prioritize forgiving one another.  It challenges us to make God’s way our way: forgive.  It encourages us to make our own the value that God places on the spiritual healing more than physical cure.

But many people, like the scribes in the Gospel today, tend to limit the forgiveness of sins to God.  To them, Jesus throws these questions: “Do you believe in a God who hoards the gift of forgiveness to Himself?  Yes, God forgives sins, but is He the only one to do that?”  Come to think of it, those who claim that it is God’s exclusive right to forgive sins may actually be making an attempt to let them off the hook about bothering to forgive those who sin against them.  But that should not be so, as far as Jesus is concerned.  Thus, when He teaches His disciples to pray to the Father, He makes a significant part of that prayer the pledge to forgive: “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”  Do we not see that in the prayer that Jesus taught us, He made our forgiveness of others the very condition of the Father’s forgiveness of us.  Moreover, appearing to His disciples on the very evening of His resurrection, and having breathed on them the Holy Spirit, Jesus assures, even as He instructs, them: “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them and whose sins you retain are retained” (Jn 20:23).

In the mind of Jesus, we see that forgiveness is not the exclusive prerogative of God but the shared responsibility of all who call themselves His followers.  If St. Paul the Apostle admonishes us to imitate him as he imitates Jesus – and in fact he did in the second reading last Sunday – then let us forgive as Jesus forgives.  In the first reading today, the Lord Himself describes His way of forgiving: “Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new!  It is I, I, who wipe out, for my own sake, your offenses; your sins I remember no more.”  Clearly, Jesus intends to extend God’s practice of forgiving sins.  To us.  Jesus wants us, His followers, to imitate God’s way of forgiving sins.  Of course, forgiving those who sin against us is easier said than done, but we are not left on our own to do that.  St. Paul the Apostle reminds us in the second reading today that God has anointed us and given His Spirit in our hearts as a first installment.

The Word of God teaches us today that the most profound healing a person can experience is forgiveness.  The Good News about this teaching is that this most profound healing a person can experience is easier to effect than physical or biological healing.  We know, for we have observed or experienced it ourselves, that spiritual wellness contributes significantly to good health, and medical condition of any sort – such as cancer, for example – may be a symptom of the need for forgiving others, forgiving the self, forgiving one’s past, and even forgiving God.  Stubborn refusal to forgive strongly hinders healing while openness to and actual forgiveness may bring about more than the onset of healing but definite healing itself.

We end our reflection, taking note that Lent will start next Wednesday.  We pray that the Lord may help us spend the Lenten season as a period of healing by forgiving.  Thus, even now we ask our selves some questions:  Whom do I need to forgive?  Whom do I need to release from his or her debilitating past?  On whom can I effect real healing by forgiving his or her sins?  Likewise, directed to our own healing, we ask:  What in my life needs healing?  Where can I find forgiveness so that I may healed?  Am I willing to ask forgiveness with all my heart?  Do I have the faith not only in the truth that forgiveness heals me but that I can really be forgiven no matter what my sins are and, when already forgiven, that I am truly forgiven?

The mystery of human suffering disturbs us all, for no one is exempted from it.  There is nothing wrong in questioning the sufferings of people around us as well as our own sufferings.  To share in the sufferings of others even as we ourselves are suffering is indeed very Christ-like.  But next time we ask our selves about someone’s suffering, we will do well to address our questions not only to God but to our selves as well.  Perhaps, that suffering someone needs our forgiveness and so he or she lingers in pain precisely because we keep on refusing to forgive him or her.  Or can it be that we are hindrances for him or her to receive the forgiveness we needs and we are indifferent to such an unfortunate situation.  And when we question God why we ourselves suffer, we should be wiser to search for the answer not only from Him but from us as well.  Forgive to heal.  Forgive to be healed.

If more roofs need to be broken so that more hearts may bleed with the potion of forgiveness that heals, let it be so.  We can endure more broken roofs but not more broken lives.

TOUCHING HIM WHO HANGS ON THE GALLOWS

6^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lv 13:1-2, 44-46 / Ps 32 / 1 Cor 10:31-11:1 / Mk 1:40-45

Last Sunday, the Lord has spoken to us on the mystery of human suffering.  His life-giving word today continues to unravel this great mystery.  Indeed, He is the Healer and the very Healing of the brokenhearted.  Thus, we respond to the Psalm today with “Tu es refugium meum, gaudio salutis circumdas me” (“I turn to You, Lord, in time of trouble, and You fill me with the joy of salvation”).


In our reflection last Sunday, human suffering confronted us with a face that had a name: Job – a righteous man yet a man who suffered unto the last straw of his faith.  He was an example that ran counter to the common view of the people from the Old Testament that suffering was a punishment from God.  He was a loud and distressing cry of the biblical question, “Why do the righteous suffer while the wicked prosper?”  Today, Job still echoes the eternal questions “why suffering” and “why me”.  But despite his unwavering faith in God, Job was never graced with a satisfying answer to his questions.  His fortune simply turned for the better when his hour of testing was over. 


Neither did the Gospel last Sunday nor do all the Gospels in the entire liturgical year answer the nagging questions concerning suffering in general and our own sufferings in particular.  During His earthly ministry, Jesus was confronted with more than one Job.  Evidently in the Gospels, the seemingly endless suffering around Him disturbed Jesus very deeply.  He, too, grappled with the reality of suffering people.  And when His own passion turned into suffering, Jesus prayed with Psalm 22, questioning His Father: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Cf. Mt 27:46 and Mk 15:34). 


But did God, His Father, answer Him?  Yes, He did, but not on Calvary.  The Father did answer the prayerful but disturbing question of His Son yet not without allowing Him to die first so as to be raised up on the third day.  Easter is the Father’s answer to Jesus’ questions on suffering.  Thus, because Jesus, God’s own Son, entered into our experience of suffering unto death, human suffering finds itself in a totally new situation (Cf. Salvivici Doloris, Apostolic Letter of Bl. John Paul II, 11 February 1984): it gains more than new meaning; it can now also become a wellspring of unfathomable grace. 


The book “The Brothers Kamarazov”, by Fyodor Dostoevsky, narrates a scene at the concentration camp at Auschwitz, where three bodies hang on the gallows for all the people to see.  Among those three bodies is that of a little child whose agony is such that a spectator is prompted to cry out: “Where is God now?”  And Elie Wiesel, one of the characters in the novel, feels a voice from his deep within replying, “God is here.  He is hanging here on these gallows.”


The Lord heals the brokenhearted?  Yes, but often not by suspending the laws of nature or by waving a magic wand to cast suffering away.  The Lord heals the brokenhearted by allowing Himself to be broken too.  Is this not what we proclaim when we break bread every Sunday?  Is this not what we celebrate whenever we gather for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass?  While, indeed, Jesus suffered and died once and for all (Cf. 1 Pt 3:18), in every Mass He is, as it were, being broken over and over again for you and me and for all suffering humanity.


Our following of Jesus challenges us to do as Jesus did.  He did not wallow in pity for people who suffer.  Yes, He had His own questions on human suffering, even on His own suffering, but He did not only question.  He moved.  He acted.  He cared.  He did whatever He could to alleviate people from their sufferings even as He Himself was suffering.  Jesus did not allow His own sufferings to imprison Him, much less to make Him love less.  He shared in their sufferings even as He had His already.  He touched not only the untouchables but also those whom the world even today still teaches us we should not touch at all.  Whatever Jesus did so must we also do.  Like St. Paul the Apostle, may we be able to say, in all truthfulness, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”


Will we, like Christ in the Gospel today, touch a leper?


It strikes me that Jesus deliberately touched the leper who begged for healing.  He certainly could heal him by simply uttering a word.  But instead Jesus touched the leper, saying, “I do will it.  Be made clean.”  I believe it is that touch that healed the leper more than the words.  I believe that touch healed more than his body.  Jesus’ touch restored the leper’s psycho-emotional well-being as well.  Jesus touched him just when even the Law itself prohibited everyone from making any contact with lepers, for he who touches a leper becomes unclean. 


The Old Testament view on suffering as punishment for sins committed, regards leprosy as more than a physical disease.  For the Jews, leprosy is also an outward sign of moral decay.  Thus, the Law prohibits contact with the leprous not only for hygienic reasons but also for preservation from contamination of moral defilement.  But Jesus broke that Law!  He touched the leper, and His touch, more than His words, healed him.


We may not often share the same space with a physically leprous person.  But, still, there are many spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally leprous among us.  Up to what extent are we willing to touch them?  What if they take the initiative and, instead of us touching them, they touch us – are we willing to be touched?  Is our touch like that of Jesus’ and, therefore, heals them?  What does their touch do to us?  Does the touch of a leper also heal us in a way?


For the last two Sundays, we have been reflecting on the mystery of human suffering and on the grace of a Healer, Jesus, who Himself is broken.  Our reflection today still do not give satisfying answers to our questions on suffering.  Certainly, they also do not erase sufferings – ours and others – at all.  But as human suffering is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be enlightened on, we continue to beg Jesus, who is the Light of the world, to enlighten us and make us see Him, love Him, and serve Him in the person of anyone who suffers even as we ourselves have our own sufferings to bear.


“Where is God now?” cries a spectator who can bear no longer the horrifying sight of a little child dying, hanging on the gallows.  “He is here.  God is here hanging on the gallows,” a voice replies coming from the deep recesses of our hearts.  But will our touch reach for Him who hangs on the gallows?

THE PROBLEMATIC OF SUFFERING

5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jb 7:1-4, 6-7 / Ps 147 / 1 Cor 9:16-19, 22-23 / Mk 1:29-39

In the Old Testament, suffering is viewed in relation to people’s behavior: the reason for a person’s suffering is his sins.  The more sinful a person is the more suffering he endures.  This is one of the reasons why people in the Old Testament, for example, regard wealth as a sign of God’s favor while having no child as a punishment from Him. 

But there seems to be many exceptions to this commonly accepted view.  Thus, even the Old Testament echoes the eternal question: “Why do the righteous suffer while the wicked prosper?”  Eternal a question indeed, for no answer has so far satisfied it.  Will there ever be?  This question stands as the very foundation of Psalm 73, but the entire book of Job (from where our first reading is taken) tackles this problematic.

Job has almost everything any man can ever dream of having: a loving wife, healthy children of which seven are sons and three are daughters, and the largest estate in the land.  With his riches, he enjoys power and privilege, but he never abuses them; rather, he uses his wealth for hospitality and his influence for charity.  Job is not only very affluent, he is also very pious.  Devoutly he prays and strives to be always right with God.  So high is his moral sensitivity even to the point of being scrupulous.  Every morning, Job offers a sacrifice to God in behalf of his children who party every night unto the wee hours, for fear that in the course of their partying they might have offended Him.  But his righteousness spares him not from sufferings, terrible sufferings: one after the other, Job loses his children, his wealth, and his friends.  Messengers keep coming to tell him stories of horror, loss, and tragedy.  Yet to all these, Job declares, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes; blessed be the name of the Lord!”  Job may have lost everything, but not his faith in God. 

In the midst of his intense and unjustifiable suffering, only his faith in God remains his true power and wealth.  But even that, God allows to be tested.  Thus, Satan inflicts Job’s body with sores, from the crown of his head to tip of his toes.  He who can be the envy of many is now the disgust of all.  His wife advises him to curse God and die, but still Job keeps faith in God.  His last three remaining friends wish to console him but argue with him nonetheless.  They believe that he must have sinned to deserve such misfortunes.  Coming from this Old Testament worldview, Job’s friends insist that he must admit his guilt before God.  But Job protests, for as honestly as he knows he has not done anything wrong either to God or to any human person.

Job refuses to believe that his suffering is a punishment for any sin he has committed.  To the question as regards why he is suffering, he finds no answer.  Thus, he asks the eternal question: “Why me?”  Yes, he keeps his faith in God, but that does not guarantee his being exempted from the lot of many men – despair.  In the first reading today, we hear – or better yet, we feel – the voice of his suffering.  Job is brokenhearted: “…I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been allotted to me.  If in bed I say, ‘When shall I arise?’ then the night drags on; I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.  My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.  Remember that my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.”

In the absence of an answer, Job despairs.  But ironically, he never let go of his hold on God.  Good for him because although he is never given an answer to his question regarding his suffering, his fortune nonetheless changes for the better.  In the end, God stops Satan’s testing of Job’s faith and Job’s suffering ends and he is proven innocent.  Job’s life testifies to the truth of the Psalm we pray today: The Lord heals the brokenhearted.

Are you brokenhearted?  Why?  I read a posting on facebook that says, “People with the biggest hearts always suffer the most.”  Is your heart big enough so as to suffer the most?  Or is your heart so small so as to feel nothing at all?

We all are brokenhearted.  We are all wounded.  We suffer and we question our suffering.  Much more, we question God, and we are allowed to do so.  But please do not always expect an answer from Him when we are suffering unjustly.  God may not provide us reasons for our suffering.  He may not also answer us when we ask him, “Why me?”  But certainly, He is never far from those who suffer.  He heals the brokenhearted. 

When Jesus is face-to-face with concrete human suffering, He does not wallow in pity and simply ask the question “Why?”  Neither does He hide from the distressing stare of the suffering nor run away from suffering itself.  Rather, He shares in the brokenness of people.  As the Prophet Isaiah says, “…by His wounds we are healed” (is 53:5).  In doing so, Jesus identifies Himself so closely with every person in pain; Human suffering then can indeed become a privileged locus of grace.  His sharing in human suffering provides suffering more than reason; it makes suffering meritorious as well.  Thus, Bl. John Paul II, in his Apostolic Letter on human suffering, entitled “Salvivici Doloris”,  issued on 11 February 1984, the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes and the World Day of the Sick, writes about the kind of suffering that saves.  It is the unjust suffering of a just man, united to the suffering of Jesus Christ for the salvation of the world.

Human suffering is a mystery.  It is not a problem to be solved.  Human suffering begs for enlightenment more than it seeks for a solution.  We do not and cannot solve human suffering with finality.  But we can, we may, and we should beg God to enlighten us with His grace even as we suffer.  The question of Job regarding suffering is not answered in the Gospel, despite the fact that Jesus not only heals the people from their different afflictions but also shares in their sufferings.  The question of Job about suffering is never graced with a satisfying answer.  Perhaps, Jesus, too, may have His own questions about the unending suffering that surrounds Him.  Certainly, when His own suffering brings Him to Mount Calvary and hangs Him on a cross, Jesus will question His own suffering, too (Cf Mk 15:34 and Mt 27:46): “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”  But, as in Job’s experience, Jesus will never receive an answer from heaven.  Like Job, too, Jesus will keep His faith in God who is His Father.  And, finally, as God does to Job, so too will He vindicate His own Son and use His Son’s suffering to heal us all in our brokenness.

Job asks the question: “Why suffering?  Why me?”  Jesus asks them, too.  But Jesus does more!  While He Himself is suffering, He moves about healing those who are suffering too.  He does not allow His suffering to imprison Him, much less to make Him love less.  In doing so, Jesus Himself is the Gospel, THE Good News.  

Are we like Jesus?