A Personal Reflection on My Priesthood

1 April 2010 Holy Thursday
Exodus 12, 1-14; Psalm 116; 1 Cor 11, 23-26; John 13, 1-15

In the island of Culion, Palawan, there is no way for a Jesuit priest not to recharge and rethink his priesthood. Here, in one of the isles in the Calamianes, the Jesuits are also rethinking their mission after a century of service. This was once a sanitarium for lepers. Today, “we have around 100 healed lepers still living here. But no more new ones,” said Fr. Florge Sy SJ, the parish priest. With the advent of MDT, the cure for leprosy, the disease has long been eradicated, except for the dark spots the medicine left on their skin. With the help of our partners in service, the sisters of St. Paul of Chartres, Loyola College has been established to provide education to the lepers’ families. But when Culion turned into a municipality, it envisioned a new course for the island: to turn their home from a place of despair to a paradise of hope. Because indeed it is.

And so here I am, from the dregs of Manila, into a new course. And so today, on the Solemnity of the Holy Eucharist and the Anniversary of the Priesthood, I write this essay. The English noun essay comes from the French verb, essayer, meaning “to attempt”. Thus to essay is to attempt, to test, to make a run at something without knowing whether you are going to succeed. As I share my personal journey here in Culion, I’d like to invite you to travel with me, but to offer no judgment. Henry Nouwen once said that it is difficult not to judge, because it entails one to continually hope and trust on the person. Bishop Antonio Tagle says this also in terms of forgiveness, “when we forgive, we say, I hope in you” --- meaning, despite every betrayal and failure, we continually trust and hope that the person who wronged us will change.

I am a man in the middle, literally and metaphorically. Literally, because at 41, I know I am in the “middle” of my life. Metaphorically, because I know I am in midlife in all its colors. I am done with the honeymoon stage. In my early days as a Jesuit (20 years and counting) and as a priest (9 beautiful years since my ordination in 2001) in a Church beset by scandals and the loss of trust, all my enthusiasms and romantic notions have lost their luster.

I am still a man who loves my priesthood (or else I wouldn’t be writing about this), but now I am asking many questions culled from my sea travels from one island to another. As I have been tweeting, I feel like a person in the middle of the sea. I have left land. I am braving the waves, asking why in the first place I embarked on this journey, and thinking how I am going to reach my destination: an island where people are waiting for me, eager to receive the Word and Body of Christ. The thing is, in the middle of the sea, I am at the mercy of the raging wind and waves of this vocation. I am precariously afloat. And I am afraid. Do other priests share my love for the priesthood, despite the drafts that endanger their vocations?

Since ordination, we have been loading the carts. My work has been easier, compared to some of my fellow Jesuits, because I have been assigned in school, but nonetheless, it is taxing. We have been ‘loading the carts’ as sacramental ministers every single day. Despite the common notion that priests are not as busy as the ordinary employee of the masses --- and with some valid experiential basis --- not all priests are like them. I personally know many priests who have worked their butts out (forgive the language) and it would be very unfair to generalize.

As a personal essayists who believes that a single tree can illumine the whole forest, what I have as proof of a larger reality are my fellow Jesuits assigned in the hinterlands of Bukidnon, Zamboanga, the missions of East Timor and Cambodia. But for this purpose, let’s use the mission of Culion. Think of two Jesuits in this mission: Frs. Florge SJ and Javier Alpasa SJ who service 48 destinos (small communities of indigenous people) within the island and in neighboring smaller islands. More than 50% of this areas are only accessible by boat. How can it be possible for them to serve the destinos regularly if you need more than half a day to reach them? I have been to only two: the destinos of Patag and Bulokbulokan. In Patag, you get only one jeepney trip every day. Bulokbulokan, the destino of the Tigbanuas, you travel by banca for two hours. If I was already frightened by the waves of summer, I am sure both of these priests would be scared to death in the months of November to January when the waves are tough.

But these Jesuits know that pastoral responsibility is not all about ministering the Eucharist. So, both of them are also developing livelihood and literacy programs. As people in these small communities receive the Body of Christ, they must also nourish the stomach and not just the spirit. As they listen to the Words of God, they must also listen to their needs and share their stories.

People think that being a priest is like being on a cruise. But experience has it that if you take your vocation seriously, you are opening a Chinese box in reverse. As you open one box, you discover a larger box; and when you keep on opening, you find yourself inside a far bigger box. The work becomes larger and larger. If you take the priesthood really seriously, you’ll find yourself exhausted, and not even the regular food loving parishioners send will restore you to health.

In the morning of this day, priests will flock to the cathedral for the Chrism mass. It is a mass that celebrates priesthood, as well as the occasion when the oils for baptism (chrism) and the sick (olio infirmorum) are blessed. Each year, we change the scent of the oil. Perhaps, it is indeed a symbol of renewal, like a person who just came out of the shower. On this day, we, priests, renew our vows.

However, it is also on this day that Jesus washed the feet of his disciples to celebrate the Last Supper. I too will wash other people’s feet in one of the destinos here in Culion. But is there a limit to washing another’s feet? What if it exhaust you to death? Yes, Fr. Pedro Arrupe SJ said that we have all of eternity to rest. But it is also a reality that ministers (all care-givers in fact) die of fatigue. They also desire that his or her feet be washed too. Think of loving parents: there is no limit to giving themselves totally; but they also need our care in return. The grace of the priesthood has been given to us, and it is also in like manner that we give it in service.

In recent years, the Church has been beset by scandals that wrecked the lives of priests and people all over the world. The shock was horrifying and rightly so. But what was I suppose to do? It’s like having a problem child in a family: you don’t disown them, you find ways to help them, but whatever scandals they do also mars your reputation. And if there is one effect it brought, it is this: people lost trust in the priesthood and in the Church. If in the past, there was what Michael Heher called “a collective fiction” that priests are supposedly innocent, well, the truth is out: we are not. It is what people want us to be; it is what is expected of us. What we are is this: we are both saints and sinners. Like every student, parishioner, and citizen. Very much like you. Like the rest of the world.

Nevertheless, as a priest, I still have to perform my duties. I still have to say mass and respond to every sick call. I have to bless every single nook and cranny so that people are assured no misfortune will befall their business. But the experience is changing. In any of these events, there are people who actually don’t care about what we do. We just have to ward of evil and that’s it. They make faces when we do the entire ritual. You will know who among them are relieved when they begin to eat. They pick up their plates, rush to the buffet table, take their forks and then punch them on the nearest pork chop. The test of true character is a few seconds after the final blessing. The good thing is this: despite the diminishing trust, you get to see and hear the truth in people’s lives. In the Sacrament of Reconciliation, I feel so much honored and privileged: people allow me to see their vulnerability and true character. The ordinary person will rarely experience listening to people’s secret lives as raw as the sins they tell me in great confidence. Or as ordinarily as how people eat pork chops from buffet tables. And I tell you, there are many ways to eat pork chop.

But the need for something greater remain, despite the global culture of individualism and consumerism. People crave and hunger for more than just their lives, whether it is about meaning, direction, love and God. St. Ignatius of Loyola said that the soul is satisfied, not by the accumulation of knowledge but by the inner taste for things. That is probably it: we didn’t force people to join our 3-hour Station of the Cross yesterday. But as the throng of people snake through the alleys of Culion to the San Ignacio Retreat House in Baldat, the number increased.

For many who claim to be intellectuals, they will look at people and the priests who lead them as fools. But for many of us, it is the most rational and reasonable way to show our gratitude to the God who loves us.

When you fall in love, you become a fool. I became a priest, because I fell in love. And the God who chose me once, continues to choose me, warts and all.

Waving our Branches on Palm Sunday

28 March 2010. Palm Sunday
Isaiah 50, 4-7; Psalm 22; Phil 2, 6-11; Luke 23, 1-49

Palm Sunday commemorates the Triumphal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, an event reported by all four Gospels. All Gospels tells us that before his entry into Jerusalem, Jesus spent time at Bethany with Martha, Mary and Lazarus and sent two unnamed disciples to fetch a colt in Jerusalem. Jesus rode on this colt when He entered Jerusalem, while people lay on His path their cloaks and tree branches. In the Eastern tradition, the colt or donkey is a symbolism of peace, while the horse is a symbolism of war. If a king rides a horse, he is bent on war. If a king rides a donkey, he is coming in peace. There is a prophesy that the Messiah will be riding on a horse to declare war against Israel’s enemies (e.g. Rome), but Jesus did not declare war but peace.

The people sang excerpts from Psalm 118: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of Yahweh; Blessed is the coming of our father, David.” In the Near East, it was customary to cover the path of someone whom they believed deserves the highest honor. Joshua in the Hebrew bible has been treated the same way, as many of others in pre-Christian mystery religions such as Dionysius. It was in the Gospel of John that specifically mentioned palm fronds; Matthew, Mark and Luke mentioned cut rushes (like cogon grass) being laid on the path. In Jewish tradition, the palm branch was a symbol of triumph and victory (Leviticus 23, 40 & Revelations 7, 9). However, not all countries at present celebrate Palm Sunday with a palm branch; countries without palms such as Russia and Ukraine use pussy willows instead; and in other parts of the world, they use olive branches and other tree branches as well. Thus, it is sometimes called “Branch Sunday”.

There are certainly important elements in the origins of Palm Sunday. First, we see the Savior. Second, we celebrate the triumphal entry of the Savior into the place of His sufferings and pains. Third, the people who pay the highest honor will be the same people who will condemn him.

In our lives, there are members of the family whom we consider our Savior. These are the people who have received a better education among the members of the family. These are the people whom people would put their hopes for a better life. Many of these people are the ones who support their families --- and extended families. For example, many overseas Filipino workers and bread winners are the saviors of our families. Second, when these people enter their own Jerusalems, whether it is about getting a new job here or abroad, many of us rejoice that finally, our hopes will be realized. And we “lay our cloak and wave our branches” as we see them off at the airport. Not knowing what pain and suffering is in store for them abroad or even in working. Third, many people who have triumphantly hailed these family saviors of ours, sometimes turn out to be the very people who would spend recklessly money from the sweat of those who work.

In our lives, we can ask ourselves who are our ‘saviors’ and see how much we have supported them; the support which they rightfully deserve.

Are You Free when You Choose Evil?

24 March 2010 Wednesday of the 5th Week of Lent
Deut 3, 14-20, 91-95; Daniel 3; John 8, 31-42

There is a dialogue between Jesus and the Jews in the Gospel. The issue is this: If Jesus is the unique Son of God, what will become of the Jews who refuse to believe in Him? The Jews themselves claim that Abraham is their father (v. 33, 39). They trace their origin to Abraham. Jesus answered them that though they are from Abraham’s stock (v. 37), they actually deny their origin because they refuse to do what Abraham did---believe. Since the Jews does not believe in the Son of God, they turn away from that truth. If action indicates our origins, then, theirs show that their source is other than God whom Abraham believed in the first place.

In the readings, Jesus said, “If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples,
and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” The truth then is that Jesus is the Son of God. If we believe in what the Son says, then we will be free. We will not be enslaved by sin.

Freedom is commonly defined as the ability to choose. According to common knowledge, whether the choice is good or evil, it is still a practice of freedom. However, Christianity qualifies the choice, and thus redefines, freedom. For believers, to be free means to choose the truth, to choose God. Since God is good, then the choice in freedom can never be a decision to do evil. The nature of God cannot be evil.

Sin enslaves. It controls us. If we look into our experiences, many of our habitual sins are done automatically and never goes through a process of discernment. We do it, because we are used to it. It is indeed an addiction. Just as chemical addictions such as alcohol and drugs control actions and decisions, our habitual sins control our lives. When we lie, for example, we find it pleasurable because it protects us. Like the first taste of an addictive substance, the first experience hooks us. And so, we lie again, and again, and again. Eventually, we become not the person who lies, but a liar. Lying becomes us. Thus to choose to sin is to have ourselves be imprisoned by the sin, and therefore, we are not free.

However, when we choose to do what is good, we do feel that a heavy burden has been lifted up from us. We feel peaceful and light. And this feeling tells us about who we are: we are children of God --- not rational animals.

Take for example forgiveness. There is a common notion about forgiveness: forgive and forget. But I do not agree with the “forget” part: forgiveness entails remembrance. We remember the reactive behavioral pattern so that when the fault occurs again, we are able to correct and contribute to the person’s re-formation. Jesus said that we are to give feedback because we are responsible for others. But we cannot give feedback if we forget what the sin was, when it happened, how it hurt, and how frequent it had been done. To give good feedback is a way of love: its source is concern. Gusto natin mapabuti yung taong sanhi ng ating sugat.

Forgiveness means that we are freed from the hurt that has been done. The pain that others inflicted on us do not affect our thoughts, our work, our decisions, our life. We do not allow that pain to make us bad. Friendships are maintained this way: our friend sometimes say a painful remark about us, and we get hurt. But when we forgive them, we say that that painful remark will not anymore affect the way we treat them. When we forgive we accept the fact that we will continually be vulnerable to the elements of a relationship. We are hurt because we love.

However, we remember. So that when it happens again, we are able to help our friends change by pointing out to them the bad habits that they are not aware of. It is through this that we help each other grow.

We reclaim our freedom through two things. First, sacramentally. With God, we experience freedom when we ask for forgiveness. And though the priest is also a sinner, we need someone to articulate that we have been forgiven. And in addition, we need someone who can name sinful patterns. Ideally, the confessor in the Sacrament of Reconciliation points out what enslaves us and then suggests ways to be freed from them. That is why coming to confession needs time. In a predominantly Catholic country like the Philippines, confessions are done quickly because of the long lines of penitents especially during Holy Week. We do this fast confessions for pastoral reasons. But in ordinary circumstances, we are highly encouraged to have a regular confessor or a spiritual director. When we come to a regular priest who hears our confessions, he can help us in our journey towards becoming a truly child of God.

Second, we can do it practically. To be free from a sinful habit, we first have to identify what we have to change. And then, we do its opposite repeatedly, until we have replaced the bad habit into a good one. Studies say that we need 21 days to form a habit and so we need 21 days to form a good habit.

Have You Ever Been Falsely Accused?

22 March 2010 Monday of the 5th Week of Lent
Daniel 13, 1-62; Psalm 23; John 18, 12-20

Have you ever been falsely accused? Are you a victim of another person’s lie?

Today we hear of the moving story of Susanna. She is accused of having an illicit affair with a young man while married to a very rich and respectable Jew named Joakim. The accusers are two wicked old men. They are appointed judges to the exiled Jewish community in Babylon.

The story goes like this. Joakim marries Susanna, a beautiful and God-fearing woman. She has been well-trained in the law of Moses by her parents; her dad, Hilkiah, is mentioned in the reading. Now, Joakim has a beautiful garden, and Susanna takes a walk in the garden at noon. Secretly, the two judges who visits Joakim regularly, spy on her, eventually developing sexual desires. Upon admitting to each other their lust for her, the two agree to wait for a situation when they might be alone with her.

That hour comes on a hot afternoon. Susanna orders her maidservants to close the garden doors and to prepare a bath for her. When the maids have gone, the two men jump on the situation and demand that she lies with them or else, if she refuses, they will testify that they saw a young man with her in the garden.

In the dilemma, Susanna chooses to cry for help. She decides that “it is better for me to fall into your power without guilt than to sin before the Lord” (v. 23). To cut the story short, when she cries for help, the elders accuse her falsely and decides to put her to death.

Susanna protests her innocence to the Lord and her prayer is answered. The Lord inspires Daniel to speak out in her defense. In her trial, Daniel separates the two and each one is asked the same question: Under what tree did they see Susanna and her lover? One gives a mastic tree for an answer, while the other says, an oak. The people discovers the lie that the two men concocted, and thus they are put to death. In Deuteronomy, one has to suffer the fate false accusers plan for the victim. Susanna therefore is found innocent.

The story tells us that in the midst of a false accusation, we stand to protect our integrity. Often it challenges us to be courageous and to believe that eventually the truth will prevail. Like Susanna, we learn that purity, truthfulness and prayer are rewarded by God.

In a culture of gossip and a tendency to exact revenge on those who have hurt us, it is easy to destroy the reputation of others through our different social networks. We do have haters in facebook and especially in the twitter world. We do find this situation in the electoral campaigns where candidates expose whatever scandalous data they can put their hands on about their rivals. It has become part of the game.

If we find ourselves leaning towards this, we should remember that accusing a person falsely is a grave sin. In fact, it is a violation of a basic human right: we all are innocent unless proven guilty.

Here’s a video from Youth For Human Rights.

Written on Stone

21 March 2010: 5th Sunday of the Lent
Isaiah 43, 16-21; Psalm 126; Phils 3, 6-14; John 8, 1-11: The Adulterous Woman

Note: The Filipino version appears in Sambuhay today, Sunday. Sambuhay is a publication of the Society of St. Paul in the Philippines.

The lesson in the story of the adulterous woman is simple: “No one has the right to condemn anyone even those who have gravely hurt or sinned.” In the story of the adulterous woman in the Gospel, I think it is Jesus who has the right to condemn her, because he has NOT sinned. But Jesus did not. On the other hand, those people who have sinned were the very persons who condemned the woman. Those sinners think that they have the right to kill her.

Therefore, Jesus tells us that God does not condemned sinners. God does not keep his anger. What matters to God is the return of the sinner, when the lost has been found.

There is one thing about the story though: Jesus writes on sand when the Pharisees asked him to comment about stoning the woman as Moses prescribed. There are many theories about what Jesus wrote. I will attempt an answer.

There is a story tells about two friends who were walking through the desert. In a specific point of the journey, they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without anything to say, he wrote in the sand: “Today, my best friend slapped me in the face.”

They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who got slapped and hurt started drowning, and the other friend saved him. When he recovered from the fright, he wrote on a stone: “Today, my best friend saved my life.”

The friend who saved and slapped his best friend, asked him, “Why, after I hurt you, you wrote in the sand, and now you write on a stone?”

The other friend, smiling, replied: “When a friend hurts us, we should write it down in the sand, where the winds of forgiveness get in charge of erasing it away, and when something great happens, we should engrave it in the stone, in the memory of the heart, where no wind can erase it.”

We are no different from the Pharisees and scribes who would like to throw a stone to any sinner. It is what we do when we gossip. It is what we do when we are angry. It is what we do when we are hurt. We write the sins on stone but goodness we write on sand.

But Jesus wrote the sin of the adulterous woman on sand. Perhaps, today we evaluate our relationships and actions. And more importantly, begin to engrave the goodness of people on stone and to write the sins of those who hurt us in sand.

Ang Nakasulat sa Bato

21 March 2010. Fifth Sunday of Lent
Isaiah 43, 16-21; Psalm 126; Phil 3, 8-14; John 8, 1-11

Note: This article appears today, Sunday in Sambuhay in Filipino. Sambuhay is a publication of the Society of St. Paul in the Philippines.

Kalat na kalat sa mga pahayagan ang iba’t ibang pagpapakita ng pagpapatawad ng mga pinagtangkaang ikitil ang kanilang buhay. Kilala natin si Mahatma Gandhi na pinatawad si Nathuram Godse na bumaril sa kanya. Alam din natin na dinalaw ni P. Juan Pablo II si Mehmet Ali Agca sa kanyang bilangguan noong ika-27 ng Disyembre 1983. Pagkatapos ikinulong ng 27 taon, hinimok ni Nelson Mandela ang kanyang bayan na magpatawad at magkaisa kasama ang mga nagpakulong sa kanya. Ganito din ang ginawa ni Priyanka Gandhi na anak ng ni Rajiv Gandhi, ang dating Prime Minister ng India. Nakipagkasundo siya kay Nalini Murugan, isa sa mga pumatay sa kanyang ama.

Nakaukit sa mismong turo ni Hesus ang pagpapatawad sa mga nagkasala sa atin. Nababanggit natin ito sa bawat “Ama Namin”. Ngunit hindi lang mga Kristiyano ang nakakakilala sa halaga ng pagpapatawad. Para sa mga kapatid nating Muslim, si Allah ang bukal ng kapatawaran.

Sa gitna ng turo ng pagpapatawad at pagbabalik-loob ang pagtingin ni Hesus sa makasalanan: anak pa rin ito ng Diyos. At dahil dito, malinaw ang matututunan natin sa pagbasa ngayong araw: Walang may karapatang humusga o isumpa ang sinumang nagkasala. Kung tutuusin, ang Diyos na walang bahid ng kasalanan ang may karapatang tuligsain ang bawat isa sa atin, ngunit hindi Niya ito ginagawa. Higit na mahalaga sa Diyos ang pagbabalik-loob ng makasalanan.

May kuwento tungkol kay Pedro at Juan. Matagal na silang magkaibigan. Isang araw, naisipan nilang pumunta sa tabing dagat. Sa gitna ng pamamasyal, nagkaroon sila ng alitan. Nagtalo at nag-away. Magkaiba ang kanilang kuro-kuro ukol sa isang isyu. Napikon si Pedro at sinampal niya sa mukha ang kanyang kaibigan.

Nasaktan si Juan, ngunit hindi siya umimik. Isinulat niya sa buhangin, “Sinampal ako ng aking kaibigan sa mukha.”

Patuloy silang naglakad hangga’t naisipan nilang maligo sa dagat. Di umano’y napunta si Juan sa malayo at nagsimula siyang malunod. Agad-agad lumangoy si Pedro sa kinaroroonan ni Juan upang sagipin ito. Nang makahinga at makabangon sa takot, kumuha si Juan ng bato at inukit niya ito: “Iniligtas ako ng aking matalik na kaibigan.”

Tinanong ni Pedro si Juan, “Nung sinaktan kita, bakit isinulat mo sa buhangin; at nang iniligtas kita, anong dahilan kung bakit isinulat mo sa bato?”

Wika ni Juan, “Nung sinaktan mo ako isinulat ko ang pangyayari sa buhangin upang mapawi ito ng alon ng pagpapatawad. Sa kabilang dako, inukit ko ang dakilang ginawa mo sa akin sa bato, sa alaala ng aking puso, upang hindi ito mabaon sa limot.”

Laging pinapaalala ni Kristo sa atin na hindi Niya tayo tinuturing na alipin kundi kaibigan. Dahil dito isinulat ni Kristo sa buhangin ang sala ng babaeng nakipag-apid. At siguro, isinulat din niya ang mapanghusgang puso ng mga Pariseo at ng mga taong nagtangkang isumpa ang babae sa kamatayan. Ganito din ang ginawa ng mga taong dakila, tulad ni Mahatma Gandhi, P. Juan Pablo II, Nelson Mandela, Priyanka Gandhi at marami pang ibang pinatawad ang mga nagkasala sa kanila.

Para saan? Upang bigyan ang makasalanan ng pagkakataong magbagong-buhay. Upang maipakita nila muli ang tunay nilang pagkatao: ang pagiging anak ng Diyos.

Ayon sa Time of India, sinabi ni Nalini sa kanyang kapatid na si P.S. Bhagyanathan, “Pakiramdam ko na napawi ang aking mga kasalanan sa pagdalaw ni Priyanka. Utang na loob ko sa kanya ang aking buhay.”

Inaaalala natin sa Panahon ng Kuwaresma ang pagiging maawain ng Diyos sa atin na makasalanan. At bilang pasasalamat sa bagong pagkakataong magbalik-loob, hinihimok din tayong maging tulad ng Diyos sa pagturing sa mga taong sanhi ng ating mga sugat. Tunay na pagpapakita ng kadakilaan ang lawak at lalim ng ating hangarin magpatawad sa kanila.

Meeting You the Rest of the Way: St. Joseph & Fatherhood

19 March 2010 Solemnity of St. Joseph, the Husband of Mary
2 Sam 7, 4-16; Psalm 89; Rom 4, 13-22; Matthew 1, 16-24 or Luke2, 41- 51

One of my most vivid experiences of St. Joseph is not only in the meditation of the Infancy narratives in the Spiritual Exercises, but most especially in the hidden life of Christ. What do we know about Joseph? We know his selfless acceptance to be the foster father of Jesus and taking Mary as his wife. We know that he loved Jesus as his Son. We know that he taught him his trade. Other than that, Joseph’s presence has always been at the background. However, in my meditation of Jesus’ hidden life, it was Joseph’s presence that came to the fore. I guess I was operating in the saying, “like father, like son.” The adult Jesus --- His health, stamina, courage, strength of purpose, like-ability factor, charisma and experience of God, His Father --- can be traced to His experience of Joseph. I can vividly see how Joseph was to Jesus, not just as a foster father but an excellent parent to Jesus.

The experience of Joseph in the life of Jesus is a very intimate portrait of the role of my personal father to me. Who I am now --- the values and principles that I hold on to, the joyful optimism that I find characteristic of me and the music that keeps me sane and young-at-heart --- can be attributed to how my father has raised me. Before he passed away, it was his words to my mother that continued to reverberate in my growing up years in the Society of Jesus. You see, there was a time he was against my vocation, but later he told my mother that I should follow my heart. So now, whenever I encounter a difficulty or a crisis within my vocation, I dream of him. If I have to decide on certain personal matters, I follow my heart. This way, my father’s presence has always been a source of strength for me.

The experience of fatherhood both as a son or as a ‘father’ to my students has become the template of my priesthood. I enjoy being with the young: taking care of them, forming them into people for others, deepening their faith and love for God, and simply just spending some quality time with them. Being there as they grow is to me being a father. One thing is clear to me: I want to tell them that Christianity can make them become better.

In the spirit of Lent and the feast of St. Joseph, we can reflect our role as father to the people entrusted to our care.

There are two ways to approach it.

First, as a child. Reflect on your experience of being cared for by your father or whoever person who have been ‘father’ to you.

And second, as a father.

There is a story of a father whose son went away. He sent his messenger and begged his son to return. His son replied, “I cannot return any longer, father. I am too far away from you.”

Then, the Father replied, “Return as near as you can, and I will meet you the rest of the way.”

How far have we tried to meet those who have lost hope? In working with others or renewing relationships, have we compromised and meet the other person the rest of the way?

In St. Ignatius’ words, how far have we cared for souls?

A little Shock about the Golden Calf

18 March 2010 Thursday of the 4th Week of Lent
Exodus 32, 7-14; Psalm 106; John 5, 31-47

We always had a view on the Golden Calf, the one idol created by the Israelites which Aaron, the brother of Moses tolerated. We knew that Moses broke the tablets of stone when he went down the mountain and saw feasting and dancing in honor of the bull. Perhaps, let’s see what other experts had to say about this event.

John F. Craghan who wrote about the book of Exodus in the Collegeville Bible Commentary tells us that “not a few scholars are convinced that a real event stands behind the story of the Golden Calf and that it occurred during the wilderness experience.” He said that the Golden Calf was not the central issue. We knew that there were groups that opposed Moses and the symbol of the ark of the covenant. That opposition were under the leadership of Aaron, and since they had broken allegiance with Moses, they wanted another figure to symbolize divine presence.

Craghan wrote: “The Golden Calf does not violate the prescription of the Ten Commandments regarding false images (Ex 20, 4-5). That prohibition concerns the PERSON of Yahweh, whereas the Golden Calf (a young bull) looks to an ATTRIBUTE of Yahweh---strength. Such bulls served as supports for Yahweh’s throne (see cherubim in Exodus 25, 10-22). Israel’s history, however, shows that the people did not always distinguish between the deity and the deity’s attribute and so identified the young bull with Yahweh (Hos 13, 2).”

So if the Golden Calf was not the focus, what was the point? At this stage in the Exodus, the Israelites began to see themselves as covenantal people. They believe that their existence was seen in the covenant that they entered with Yahweh. And therefore, the sin was not so much about the Golden Calf per se, but the desire of the people to get rid of Moses, who represents Yahweh. By rejecting Moses whom Yahweh chose, they rejected Yahweh whom he represented. Therefore, the sin as they say was apostasy, and not idolatry.

Yahweh was furious and planned to wipe out the people. He wanted to begin anew (vv. 7-10). But here was something significant: Moses interceded for the Israelites. He became a mediator in winning forgiveness which eventually ended with a renewal of the covenant. He argued that by wiping out the Israelites, Yahweh’s promises to the patriarchs would not be fulfilled. The people of Egypt would ridicule the God of Israel who brought the people to the desert, only to let them die there. And by doing so, it was a mistake for the people to have followed a lesser god who did not follow through His plans. Yahweh then allowed Moses to win the argument.

Therefore, Yahweh forgave the Israelites and restored the covenant. The readings today tells us of a pattern significant in our Lenten observance. There are elements which we can reflect on with regards to our relationship with the Lord. First, we can look at our sins. Generally these are the times when we break off from our relationship with the Lord. Second, we can look at the consequences of our sins. We experience this as ‘punishments’ of the God who is ‘furious’ about what we have done. We feel the guilt that gnaws our souls. Third, we decide to repent and return to the God who waits for us, like the father in the parable of the prodigal son. Finally, we can reflect on the graces we have received as a product of our return, and how our relationship has been renewed, restored and deepened.

In addition, the Israelites believed in the role of intercessions in one’s relationship with God, just as Moses became a mediator during their time in the desert. Here we see why many of us Catholics appeal to mediators. It is both acceptable to have a saint whom you seek to represent you or you don’t have one.

To me, what is important in today’s reflection is this: God revealed himself to us, through a particular people whom He loved. But He chose to reveal His heart of forgiveness through a sinful people. We should therefore be accepting of people, warts and all. If God is called a refuge of sinners, we do not have reason NOT to become one.

After all, we all have broken and rejected the Lord.

And those of you who feel that you haven’t, by all means, go and pick up stones of different sizes and throw them at us.

Have You Ever Wished You Didn't Have to Work?

17 March 2010: Wednesday in the 4th Week of Lent
Isaiah 49, 8-15; Psalm 145; John 5, 17-30

Working is not new to us. In fact, many of us complain about work and wish we are a people who don’t have to work. We envy those with resources; just by sitting pretty in their couches and watching television, millions are deposited in their bank accounts. If we all stop working, do you think we will be happy?

Jesus says in the Gospel, “My Father is at work until now, so I am at work.” Let us reflect on this words. Physics defines work as a force applied through a distance when the two share the same direction: Work = force x distance. That means that work has been done when there is effort expended and a movement. If you push a wall, and it did not move, there is force, but no movement, then there is no work. If you push a chair and it moved to cover a distance, then there is work done. Thus, in Physics, there are two basic elements: force and distance.

Second, in Project Management, work is defined as the effort applied to produce a deliverable or accomplish a task. Thus, there is effort and there is movement which is an accomplish task.

Third, in Art, as artwork or work of art, work is a creation, such as a song or a painting: an effort has been creatively done to produce a creation.

In all of these fields of activities, there are two basic elements: there is effort and there is movement, whether the movement is a distance, a new accomplishment, or a new creation.

St. Ignatius of Loyola, in his Spiritual Exercises, says in his Contemplatio ad Amorem, that God continually works in all of creation, and that includes us --- work is done if God has exerted His effort on us, and we have moved somehow, whether the growth is physical as we grow taller and our body organs maximizes its performance, emotional as we improve on our relationships, psychological as we mature in our outlook and response to the external environment, and spiritual as we acquire depth and wisdom. Thus, Ignatius says that God exerts effort on us through grace, and we move because of it. If we have to evaluate the work of God, we do not have a doubt about his excellence on his job.

There is a parallel process though: that as God exerts tremendous effort on us and Jesus labors for us, we are challenged to make use of our talents and to take the initiative. Second, just as God makes things move in all creation and Jesus tries to help us develop, we are challenged to cooperate with God so that we are able to move on in our lives; we are able to walk a certain distance in our lives; we are able to accomplish some things or contribute or create some things to society.

In the end, work enables us to be human. It gives us dignity and self-worth. If we stop working, we’re dead.

Therefore in this Season of Lent, we can reflect on our lives: Have you moved on in your life after some painful pasts? Have you covered some distance? Have you achieved some thing that contributed to the development of humankind?

Or, are you stuck in life? What or who prevents you from moving on, from accomplishing something, from creating something?
Even if God has done His job, if we are not able to cooperate with Him, as Jesus who also participates in the work, then you have not gone somewhere at all. In Scripture, it means to bear fruit. All of us are expected to bear good fruits. Thus, all of us are expected to work.

What Do We Get When We Attend Mass Regularly?

16 March 2010 Tuesday of the 4th Week of Lent
Ezekiel 47, 1-12; Psalm 46; John 5, 1-16

Why do we regularly come to church every Sunday? Why should we attend mass when we know that we will eventually fall again, only to return the next Sunday? Is this a futile routine that pious people do? Let me tell you the story of behind the first reading.

The prophet Ezekiel experienced the Fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE and the Babylonian exile. He described the exile as an occasion that demanded the conversion of a sinful, rebellious people and their acquiring of a new heart (Ez 36, 26). But in the midst of these traumatic events, Ezekiel was a compassionate prophet who encouraged his particular community by giving them a vision of restoration, where the Temple that was destroyed would be rebuilt again in the distant future. Consequently, if the people accepted their responsibility for the events that happened, then repented and submitted themselves once again to Yahweh, the renewal would create a new community and a new nation under the auspices of the Lord.

How would this renewal come about? We could imagine Ezekiel telling the story to his people in Babylon on April 28, 573 BC (Ezekiel 40,1), the only date that appears in chapter 40-48. On this day, he had a vision. He was on a high mountain in the land of Israel where he saw a city being built. A divine man was on the gate of the city with measuring tools. He explained to Ezekiel that he was his guide and he would show him around. To cut the story short, Ezekiel was brought to the Temple. He went into the outer courts, and entered the inner court where the sanctuary was.

When Ezekiel and his guide returned to the front of the temple where they noticed waters flowing from the south, north, east and west of the temple walls. Every time the guide measured the water, its depths increased until it became a torrent (v. 3-5). The guide explained that the source of this water springs from the throne of God and it will restore the Dead Sea into life, and wherever the waters flow, barren places will become fertile again.

The restoration of a nation revolves around a renewed worship. Those who come to worship at the Temple would eventually bring as much life to others, as the waters breathed new life to barren places. The trees and plants in Ezekiel’s vision are sources of medicine that heals. That is why, the lame man in the Gospel was waiting for the waters of Bethesda to be stirred. They believed that the sick who gets into the water will be able to restored to new life.

The Temple of Jerusalem was the center of life for the Israelites. Likewise, worshipping the Lord today should be the center of our lives. We believe that through the liturgy, the Father fills us with his blessings in the Word made flesh who died and rose for us and pours into our hearts the Holy Spirit. At the same time, the Church blesses the Father by her worship, praise, and thanksgiving and begs Him for the gift of His Son and the Holy Spirit.

It is in our worship that we encounter the Lord. It is in the sacraments that the Lord confers sacramental grace which helps us in our journey towards holiness and so assists the Church as well to grow in charity and in her witness to the world. In other words, we are refreshed and renewed every time we come to receive the sacraments especially the Eucharist. In the Eucharist, we have all it takes to be brought back to life. When we sin or fail, we are forgiven in the Penitential Rite. When we find ourselves alienated from the Lord, we are confirmed again as children of God especially when we pray the Our Father. When we find our lives far from being like Christ, we are conformed again to Christ the Lord. When feel that we are lost and abandoned, we are reminded that we belong to a community, that we are members of the Church. Thus, when we find ourselves like the Israelites who lost everything in the Fall of Jerusalem and had become exiles, the Holy Spirit heals and transforms us, the way He rebuilt the Temple again.

For many of us, all of the above is laid simply in an experience. When we are down, we run to the Lord and pray. There in church, in the quiet of our hearts, we simply sit there, cry our heart out, and talk to the Lord. And when we’re done, we leave the church quite fine, ready to take any hurdle that comes our way. And then, we return again. We go full circle.

The Season of Lent is a time to rise from our numerous falls, pick up the pieces once again, and begin a new life.

Are You Faithful to God? Do You Think and Love as He?

14 March 2010 Fourth Sunday of Lent
Isaiah 43, 16-21; Psalm 126; Phil 3, 8-14; Luke 15, 1-3, 11-42

Today is Laetare Sunday. Laetare means "to rejoice" and therefore it means that in the middle of the Season of Lent, we are reminded that the last word in our journey is not suffering or the pain of the cross, but Easter, the day of rejoicing. The Parable of the Prodigal Son focuses not on the son who returns, but on the father who loves much. That is why, many have changed the title into "The Parable of the Prodigal Father" because prodigal means profusely extravagant. In the past, we've seen the son to be recklessly extravagant with the money he inherited, but the focus of the parable is the father's profuse and reckless love for the son who left him. And this is the reason why we have to rejoice: when we return to God, we are assured that He waits for us. God will rejoice upon our return.

William Barclay calls the Parable of the Prodigal Son the ‘gospel within the gospels’ because it summarizes the essence of faith. It tells the story of the Father’s great love for his son, the son’s return, and the elder brother’s self-righteousness and resentment towards his younger brother’s return.

The father’s great love is illustrated by his willingness to give his son’s inheritance almost without question: “So the Father divided up his property.” As mandated in the book of Leviticus, Jewish custom has it that the father appropriates to his eldest son two-thirds of his possession while the younger son inherits one-third of what he has. The younger son’s request is one of insensitivity; it would cause any father to be terribly hurt. By taking what he owns by legal right, the younger son is like saying “Give me what is mine as if you already had died.” After his son’s request, he nevertheless ‘divided up his property’.

However, nothing surpasses the Father’s waiting for his son’s return: “While he is still a long way off, his father caught sight of him and was deeply moved. He ran out to meet him, threw his arms around his neck, and kissed him.” Here we can see God’s attitude towards any sinner--- towards each one of us. First, He waits and watches for the sinner to come home. The son’s rehearsed dialogue was in fact unfinished: the Father will not let any sinner become a ‘hired servant’ in his household. He will not even listen to such a request! No matter how grave our sins. What matters is our return.

In Jewish society, the hired helper is the lowest in rank. They were hired by the day, and could be dismissed without reason. Most hired servants live in dire poverty. Second, He goes out to meet sinners, eager to throw his arms around our necks and to kiss us. We are accustomed to think that we long for God. And yet the opposite is also true: that God longs for us.

There is a story of a Father whose son went away. He sent his messenger and begged his son to return. His son replied, “I cannot return any longer, Father. I am too far away from you.” Then, the Father replied, “Return as near as you can, and I will meet you the rest of the way.”

Thus, the Father’s waiting should be a cause of great joy. God tremendously believes in humanity. Psalm 8 expresses this wonder: “What is man that you should be mindful of him, or the son of man that you should care for him” (Ps. 8, 5). St. Irenaeus said that God became man that man might become one with him. It is hard for some religions to think of a God who, out of great love, abases himself for humanity, who comes down to us running.

The son comes home because he remembers his father. He was lost because he decided to part from his father. In Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s novel, The Adolescent, Makar Evanovich Dolgoruky the stepfather of Arkady, the adolescent speaks about the restlessness of those who are lost: ‘They keep on reading...or talking...although they never find answers...and remain in darkness.’ Like the son, they are lost because they have given away their inheritance, they have lost their destiny. Makar adds ‘life without God is nothing, but torture.’ The plight of the son was indeed torture. But how fortunate that he ‘comes to his senses’ by the memory of his father. And thus, filled with hope, he repents and returns.

The attitude of the elder brother towards the return is unfortunate. But it mirrors a painful truth to us who are ‘proud’ because we ‘never disobeyed God’. The self-righteous regard themselves as faultless: they faithfully perform their duties to the letter, never missed Sunday mass, etc. This is a grave mistake: to regard oneself as faultless is the greatest illusion, the greatest fault. To be without sin is not to need God. To be without fault, is not to need others. It is not surprising why the eldest son cannot see the reason to celebrate with the Father who rejoices and the son who returns. No wonder the self-righteous will not regard the church as the home of the lost. No wonder the self-righteous will think that this parish belongs only to the students, and not of others. No wonder the self-righteous will think that this church belongs only to the parishioners and not the students. Everyone belongs to this church.

The character of the eldest son is an invitation to us who have been ‘faithful’: the real meaning of loyalty is always to be one in heart and mind with the beloved and with all whom the beloved loves. In this Season of Lent, we are asked therefore to rejoice when sinners return, to treat them with equal dignity. After all, the Father has fully reinstated them as sons: he gave them the robe, the ring and a pair of shoes---- tokens of distinction, authority and freedom. Best of all, a banquet to celebrate the return to the family’s table.

Have You Ever Fought for the One You Loved?

12 March 2010 Friday of the 3rd Week of Lent
Hosea 14, 2-9; Psalm 81; Mark 12, 28-34

Have you ever fought for someone you loved? If you have, then Hosea is inspiring. Hosea was a contemporary of Amos and Isaiah. Amos and he preached in North Israel, while Isaiah preached in the South. While Amos was known as the prophet of divine justice --- equal punishment for the seriousness of the crime --- Hosea, on the other hand, was known as the prophet of divine love. Divine love is defined as a love ever willing to suffer in order to win back one’s beloved.

Hosea was a young prophet. When the Word of the Lord came upon him, the command of God was strange. God wanted him to marry, and the girl He suggested was Gomer, the most beautiful woman in Israel but also a harlot. And indeed, he married Gomer despite her tendency to go to the Canaanite pagan fertility rites.

She bore him three sons and God gave them their names with a double meaning. The first was Jezreel: the fertile valley from Mt. Carmel to the Sea of Galilee; but also the battleground in the book of Judges. Thus Jezreel also means “cast-away,” a name of shame in Israel. Remember Jezebel, the wicked queen of King Ahab who pushed him to steal the property of his neighbor? Well, she was punished: Jehu, the general, ordered the servants to throw her from the balcony to the courtyard. There she died, and the courtyard has been called Jezreel (2 Kings 9, 30-37).

The second was a daughter, whom Hosea loved very much. But God had given her the name, Lo-ruhama, Hebrew for “No pity.” So since the root word, ruhama was about one’s motherly care, thus the name suggested that God withdrew His “motherly care.” The youngest was a son, named Lo-ammi, Hebrew for “Not my people” or “Not mine.” Many interpreted Lo-ammi as God reducing Israel to a lower status as an illegitimate child. The names of Lo-ruhama and Lo-ammi created a stir about the real paternity of the children.

And then Hosea was abandoned by Gomer. She went about her harlotry. But soon, Hosea would look for her. Tradition had it that she had several relationships. In one of these relationships, Hosea had to buy her back from her lover; in another, he had to bid so that she would not be sold as a slave. The climax of the Hosea and Gomer’s love story was Gomer’s return to Hosea.

The story of Hosea and Gomer was juxtaposed with the story of Yahweh and Israel. Yahweh, like Hosea entered into a covenant with Israel, despite the fact that Yahweh knew that Israel would be unfaithful to Him. Historically, Israel had cavorted with several other pagan idols; thus, she broke the covenant with Yahweh. But Yahweh, like Hosea, remained constant and faithful. Both of them fought for the one they loved.

Today, we have our challenge. Just as Gomer returned to Hosea, and Israel repented to Yahweh, we too are to reconcile with God. And thus the core of the message of the prophet Hosea to all of us in the Season of Lent: God will take upon Himself the shame that marked the “Jezreels”; He will have pity and mercy to all the “Lo-ruhama” and He will seal the covenant once again and make all the “Lo-ammi” His people again.

If you look at it, this is our relationship with Jesus.

So, with all the reasons in the world, we might find fighting for the one we love something to jeer at, laugh at, or make fun of. Especially, if we become victims of their infidelities, or we discover some part of our beloved’s life that is shameful, and deserving of contempt. Fighting for that beloved to the point of being fools is something we brand as “romantic” --- a love that belongs to literature and fairy tales, but never in reality. Many of us are believers of this foolishness, because we have been hurt. If we have a friend who fights for his love to the point of madness, our advise to readily give up and look for another is easily at hand. When we’re hurt, there is a tendency to generalize: but hey, not all people are like your boyfriends or girlfriends, husband or wife who left you.

But look into the deepest recesses of our hearts. In reality too, we do long for someone who would fight for us, despite our awareness of our unworthiness. If we do develop a culture of this kind of love, we might find people who actually would love us as Yahweh and Hosea.

The real fools are the ones who don't. That's why they end life with bitterness.

So enough of these pretensions. Dying for the beloved is not the property of fables; it should be the rule of thumb for all of us. You know who died for you at the cross, right? If you love Him so much, then fight till the very last drop in the name of love.

Do You Feel Useless?

7 March 2010. 3rd Sunday of Lent
Exodus 3, 1-15; Psalm 103; 1 Cor 10, 1-12; Luke 13, 1-9

Fig trees are valuable in Palestine. Their sizeable leaves provide a sprawling shade to sit as Nathanael was doing when Jesus saw him (Jn 1:48). Figs are naturally productive; they fruit almost the entire year, except in May or April when leaves begin to appear. They are usually cultivated in the corner of vineyards as a standby in case vines fail. Figs, fresh or dried, are pressed as cakes and are thus excellent as food. They are also used as medicines for boils. Thus an unproductive fig tree is disappointing and worthless. It is better to cut it down from its very roots and “thrown into the fire” (Lk 3: 8-9).

The Parable of the Fig Tree appropriates this idea to the fruitless leaders of Israel; after all, like fig trees, the leaders who are planted in the Lord’s vineyard are expected to be useful to God.

As Christians, we are expected to be valuable to God; we are to bear fruit. However we have to be careful with how we should understand ‘usefulness.’ We can be of greatest use even in seemingly insignificant things. Jerry and Lorin Biederman's book, Earth Angels, tells the story of Esther Biederman, 73, a mother and writer, who survived depression after her husband died by the daily phone calls from one or more of her three children. Or we can take an example from common experience: how our mother’s daily cooking made us who we are now. We thus ask ourselves “Of what use are we to God?”

To understand ‘usefulness to God’, we must believe why we were created in the first place: We are intelligent and free so that we can love, as God our Creator loves. Since childhood we were taught that God made us in the past, once and for all. However, God is always creating us in the concrete, all living things grow through several stages and phases throughout life. God creates every talent that we have, every quality we possess including our intolerance of others, our interests. He creates not only what makes us human, but what makes us a person, our unique identity. Our entire person, including the ‘dark side’ of our personality, is created so that we can love, no matter how hurting it can be, no matter the consequences. Thus to be useful to God is to have a heart overflowing with love for others just as Mother Teresa was.

The fruitless fig tree derives much nourishment from the ground which could have been given to something more useful. Many of us believe that as long as we have not harmed anyone, we are fine. Good intentions are not enough. The world today holds that the more we get out of life the better. But Jesus demands the opposite: not extraction but contribution. What have we contributed to the world? And not, what have we gotten out of this world?

Moreover, fruitlessness points out a grim reality: we have failed to realize our own possibilities. To be productive is to make maximum use of what we have. The Greek word for sin is hamartia which is ‘to miss the target.’ It is to know that we can offer help, but we are not able to do so. It is to know that we have talents, but we do not make good use of it. It is to know that we can contribute to this world, but we miss the opportunity to do so. Spirituality has it that the greatest sin one can do towards God is not to acknowledge the gifts that He has given. To ignore one’s gifts is to reject the giver. Not to use our talents is to refuse God. If I grow to be the person God has been hoping I would become, I manifest God’s power at work in me. I would also find God’s gifts as my contribution towards the realization of God’s Kingdom.
Jesus tells the story of the Fig Tree in connection with repentance. Selfishness drives us, not to contribute, but to extract, to get what we can from life, for ourselves. Sin does not allow us to develop our potentials. Sin does not allow us to love: the end for which we are created. If we do not repent, we become less human. If we do not realize what God has intended us to be, then we are geared towards eternal damnation. In Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s novel, The Brothers Karamazov, the Elder Zossima describes hell as ‘the suffering of being unable to love.’ It is the consequence of the freedom granted to us by God when we deny Him as our Creator and Destiny.

Finally, we should not forget the most important point: we have the vinedresser who pleads to the Master to give the fruitless fig tree another chance even if it means extraordinary care. The vinedresser promises that he would do all he can for the fig tree to fruit: he would ‘hoe and put manure around it.’ Jesus is the Vinedresser who pleads in behalf of our sinfulness. Because of Jesus, we are given our ‘last chance.’ He suffered and died for us: what more can we ask? By his words and deeds, we were saved; we were given our ‘last chance.’ We owe it to our vinedresser.
And so, in the spirit of the Lenten season, we come home to whom we belong, we come with a contrite spirit. Only with God’s grace of forgiveness and mercy, offered to us, fruitless fig trees, that we become fruitful in God’s vineyard.

When Rejected, Be a Cornerstone!

5 March 2010 Friday of the 2nd Week of Lent
Genesis 37, 3-28; Psalm 105; Matthew 21, 33-46

Have you ever been rejected? I guess many of us are used to repeated rejections, but never liked the feeling of being turned down. We feel rejected when someone we like don’t want to go out with us; when an invitation has been ignored; when we don’t receive a call after several job applications; or when we are not accepted in an audition. Or simply, when some people do not like us and they devise schemes to exclude us from their circle of friends.

In the first reading, Joseph experienced rejection. His brother sold him as a slave to Egypt, but that would be providential. As a governor of Egypt, he will eventually save his family from famine. Jesus has been in our situation too, though His historical context is different from ours.

What should we do when rejected? We turn the negative experience to our favor. The Gospel alludes to Jesus when it says, “The stone that the builders rejected, has become the cornerstone.”

First, we have to be a stone. We have to be still in the running. We have to be an option among a variety to choose from. In auditions, we should be one of the hopefuls vying for a role. In job applications, our resumes should be on the table of a possible employer. In other words, we have to try our luck too. We cannot sit and just wait. A thing is rejected, because it has been one of the options. We may not be at par or we don’t fit into the qualifications, but at least we know what we have.

To be a stone is to be aware of the skills we are good at and where we could be useful in different situations. In this season of American Idol, Simon Cowell would put it as “self-belief” --- the ability to believe in oneself and how good we are in what we can do. Spirituality teaches us that self-belief comes from gratitude: we discover and develop our skills as sign of gratitude to God, the source of all that we have. That is why the responsorial psalm says, “Remember the marvels the Lord has done.” We believe in ourselves because the Lord believes in us. Remember, He entrusts to us the whole of creation. He gives us a role in the world because He knows we can perform it.

Moreover, there are those who are rejected because they have new ideas or imaginative ways of doing things. Their ideas do not prevail against the old system because of the resistance from people who are outmoded, or their positions are threatened. Even if Jesus says, “new wine in new wineskins,” many people are not yet open to possibilities. Notice the Church: it moves cautiously, slower than a snail on its way to a tree.

Thus, a maverick will always meet resistance. The older the organization, the greater the resistance to change. We just have to live with it.

Or, we just have to try and try. Many of the greatest names in the entertainment world or in business succeeded after several attempts.

There is however another way: blaze your own trail and be a cornerstone.

A cornerstone is the foundation of an institution, the backbone of an organization, the centerpiece of a business, the heart of a belief.

The progressive and innovative teachings of Jesus is one characteristic we overlook about our Saviour. How many times did He challenge the Pharisees, the Sadducees and the scribes? How amazed were his listeners about the freshness of his teachings and the authority in which these are taught? He was rejected, but He became the cornerstone of our faith.

Many people have creative ideas to share. But many gave up because they have been hurt several times. But I know many people who pursued their hearts by starting something new. Tony Meloto of Gawad Kalinga and Illac Diaz of My Shelter Foundation with their passion to provide sustainable housing for the poor. Or Efren Penaflorida whose push cart education became an inspiration to many.

I have a theory: if you have been rejected several times because of your unique ideas, you’re probably meant to start something new. Isn’t that exciting?

The Things We Don't Do

4 March 2010 Thursday of the 2nd Week of Lent
Jeremiah 17, 5-10; Psalm 1, 1-6; Luke 16, 19-31

The parable speaks of the sin of omission. The rich man was punished, not because of what he did, but what he did not do. A close reading of the parable precisely illustrates it: the parable describes both characters. A rich man in indolent self-indulgence. And a destitute at the door waiting for the crumbs from the rich man’s table. You see, during the time of Jesus, there were no knives, forks, spoons or napkins to wipe away the grease and the grime from the food. People ate with their hands, and in very affluent families, the hands were cleanse by wiping them on hunks of bread. And this is what Lazarus desired to have. The rich man never stood up to share his meal. But he did fix his eyes on this man at the gate: he knew his name. He said, “Father Abraham, have pity on me, and send Lazarus to me that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue.”

I guess in a doing-community such as ours, we might forget, that despite our personal belief that we are doing many things, and our intellectual stature do not allow any omissions, we might have to have second thoughts. To do what is required or what we think we should do, might neglect those at the periphery of our vision. We might not give our attention to those who do not have use to us. We might ignore those who are quiet enough not to steal the limelight from us.

There are many things vying for our attention. Ads that promises to make us gorgeous for a long time. Gadgets that would make our lives easier and more efficient. And like the rich man, we gorge on them. To zone out, we only need earphones. It is therefore easier to neglect the Lazaruses of the present. In the Philippines, the Metro-Guwapo Project masks the poor away from our attention. We omit those who wait for our crumbs at the gate. As the responsorial psalm say that these are the people who hope in the Lord. Because the affluent have others to hope for.

Perhaps, if we learn from this simple parable, then perhaps in the next life, we do not have to worry about the great abyss that separates the sheep and goats. We will be too busy eating together at one table that the great divide do not deserve our least attention.

Can You be Ambitious and a Christian at the Same Time?

3 March 2010 Wednesday of the 2nd Week of Lent
Jeremiah 18, 18-20; Psalm 31; Matthew 20, 17-28

Is it bad to be ambitious? Are we at a disadvantage when we want more than what we can chew? As Christians, are we prevented from having ambition?

Ben Dattner, PhD is a Manhattan based psychologist who specializes in workplace issues. He said many employers recruit people who reached high and flopped. “If a person is too safe and conservative, he’s not likely to come up with great ideas.” In other words, employers seek those with ambition, even if the person has failed. They said that someone who has the drive to progress has the possibility to succeed and therefore is a great asset to a company.

How do we put a Christian perspective to this? The Gospel tells us what ambition entails. In Matthew’s Gospel, the mother of James and John, the sons of Zebedee, requested Jesus that her sons be distinguished. She wants that both of them to sit beside Jesus in His Kingdom. The people who sit at the right and left side of the king are the most trusted of all, and therefore they hold the highest position possible. In Mark, the ones who requested it are both James and John, not their mother. But it doesn’t matter: the point is that we often think about our personal rewards and recognition in the things that we do. We ask, “What can I get if I do this job?” And when we are not able to receive anything, even some recognition for our contribution, it is but natural to be hurt and to feel unimportant.

But the Gospel tells us that if we are to be ambitious, we are to carry the cross as well. We are to feel the daily struggles that our dreams entail: the stress and tension that are part and parcel of our jobs, the emotional investment needed in working with other people, the sacrifice demanded on our personal relationships, and its impact on our health.

And if we look at the “ambitious” family of Zebedee, we get to see them with Jesus on the cross. William Barclay gives a detail that is interesting. In the list of those who were at the cross, we find these lists in different Gospels:

Matthew: a) Mary Magdalene, b) Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the c) mother of the sons of Zebedee (Matthew 27, 56).
Mark: a) Mary Magdalene, b) Mary the mother of James the Younger and Joses, and c) Salome (Mark 15, 40).
John: d) Jesus’ mother, c) his mother’s sister, b) Mary, the wife of Clopas, and a) Mary Magdalene.

Thus, at the foot of the cross, the mother of James and John (c) named Salome, followed Jesus to the cross. And we all know that James and John, the sons of Zebedee, became faithful disciples of Jesus.

Thus, it is good to be ambitious. We are to dream big for ourselves and the people we love. St. Stanislaus Kostka SJ said that we are meant for greater things. And thus to pursue our dreams is very very Christian. God created all of us to be a bundle of possibilities. But with it we have to willingly accept the demands our dreams will entail: to carry the cross as well. In other words, our ambition has to be tempered by the cross.

What I think is unChristian is when we are distinguished for the things we have not done. Think of the politicians who would put their names on large tarpaulins to be recognized. We all know they never contributed anything on the infrastructure, except to approve and finance it. But to approve a project is a job people elected them to perform. And to finance it is to spend what the people payed for by their taxes.