The Miracle of Easter

1 May 2011 2nd Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 118; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

The message of the Gospel today is the very miracle of Easter. That whatever is bound, enchained, enslaved, or unfree can be loosened, liberated and freed through forgiveness. By exercising this capacity to forgive, we free each other from what bounds us like pain, anger, and resentments. And by being forgiven, we become free. In this freedom, we achieve what is elusive to most of us: peace.

Let me explain. Let us look at our personal relationships. There are many resentments within our families: marital conflicts, custody battles, and/or inheritance. Between friends, there are strained relationships: a betrayal, a falling out, or a hurt from an uncharitable remark.

Recent records in history has seen the bloodiest effect of racial and religious hatred. The most glaring is the holocaust. Christians against Jews. Or, genocide in Central and South Africa. Or the escapes of Vietnamese refugees to other countries caused by strife and violence. The killings in Cambodia. Our list can go on and on and on. The point is clear: unless there is healing by forgiveness, peace will not come by easily.

But forgiveness is easier said than done. The deeper the wound, the longer it takes. Genuine forgiveness is not given casually: as if the violation has not been done as the popular maxim: forgive and forget. We should not forget or else the violation is repeated and tolerated. Aren't we, Filipinos, suffering from a short-term memory: the victimizers of the past are now back in the seats of government? Isn't it true that the People's Revolution of 1986 has been like a ningas-cogon: aren't we worse than before? Isn't it correct that misbehavior in our personal relationships are repeated because we try to forget as if they never occurred? Forgiveness is given, not so that we repeat our past, but so that we begin a new future.

Forgiveness is given by authentically acknowledging the wounds for what they are, and what they have caused. And the acceptance that we are capable of being hurt and wounding others. Unless we are able to see this (vs self-righteousness), genuine forgiveness cannot come by.

Forgiveness involves humility. It involves swallowing our pride. This is what I experience in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. The struggle before receiving the Sacrament is the very thought of acknowledging our woundedness and sinfulness to another person, in shame. Why would I confess to a priest who is also a sinner like me - or even worse than me? Confession is indeed a humbling experience, yet genuine repentance and humility are the conditions for forgiveness to happen. And as a priest, who is very much a sinner too, I am very grateful to the trust a repentant sinner accords me.

The Gospel tells us that Jesus showed Thomas His very wounds. Jesus acknowledges the wounds that has been inflicted on Him and then identifies Himself with it. What we have become has been formed and molded by our wounds. But even in His last breath, Jesus forgives: "Forgive them, Father, for they do not know what they are doing?" That is why, today is also called, Divine Mercy Sunday. We celebrate God's mercy on us, but at the same time, we are also challenge to be merciful.

But peace in genuine forgiveness is made possible by the Spirit. Jesus said, "Peace be with you" and then, He says, "Receive the Holy Spirit" and after, He breathe on them. The exchange of breathe in the Spirit is important. Remember how God breathe on Adam and Eve for life to occur in Genesis? Breathing is what makes us alive; the Spirit thus makes us genuinely live and therefore, forgive. Paul said that forgiveness is made possible by the Spirit. And therefore, this power is a gift of the Lord to us: we are capable of genuine forgiveness. However, we have to work on it. The Our Father gives us the condition: "And forgive us our sins, AS we forgive those who sin against us."

Together with the breath of the Resurrected Christ, we can therefore free ourselves from what makes us bound. Remember a tenet I live by: He, who angers you, controls you. The miracle of Easter is freedom from what or who controls you, given through forgiveness, for the peace that we all yearn.

Easter's Shock

24 April 2011 Easter Sunday
Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118; 1 Cor 5:6-8; John 20:1-9

Allow me to begin a few hours ago. It was customary for early Christians to hold evening liturgies called vigils, especially the night before a great feast. In the universal Church these vigils are commonly done during the three most important feasts of the liturgical year: Christmas, Easter and Pentecost. Pentecost vigil though has not been particularly celebrated in the Philippines.

In the Easter vigil, we all begin in darkness, reminding us of our state before the resurrection. It suggests the mood of Lent, when we have scoured the dark recesses of our lives and prepared it for the Lord's light. The beauty and profundity of the image of the light, as Easter, becomes powerful in the background of darkness.

So it is in the understanding of Easter. In the movie, The Mission, Robert di Niro plays the mercenary and slave trader Mendoza, who kills his brother in a fit of jealousy and anger. As a self-imposed penance, he carries the implements of his past like his sword and armor, to the Jesuit mission above the Iguazu falls, the community of the Guarani Indians whom he has formerly hunted. When the Guarani recognized him, they threaten his life, but seeing what he has been doing, they cut the rope and release his 'past' plunging into the raging waters of the river. Experiencing freedom and forgiveness, he starts a new life with the Guarani and eventually becomes a Jesuit.

Easter Sunday is about redemption. Mendoza's character illustrates our capacity for redemption. We are capable of changing for the better. But what is striking for me is the dialogue before Mendoza takes the burden of his past and carries it up the precarious peak of the falls. Fr. Gabriel (Jeremy Irons) visits him in his cell. Mendoza sulks and tells him that there is nothing that could redeem him from his heinous crime. And Gabriel said, 'At least, dare to try' and got Mendoza's reply, "Are you ready to see it fail?"

Easter's gift is the guarantee of redemption offered to those who believe that everything has failed. Nothing is more astonishing in all the mysteries of our faith as the Resurrection. Because it is hard to believe it, and it is not within logic. It is riveting. But that is exactly what the Resurrection does. It tells us that there is a reality far beyond what is normally thought possible.

I met Lupillo in Mexico on our pilgrimage there. His work was to gather drug and alcohol dependents who lived in the streets of the city. He would scour the places and invite them every Friday for a meeting, hoping to help them recover from their dependency, or at least provide care for them. This did not happen overnight. His was a story of the impossible becoming possible.

He was on the streets for 22 years. The people he serves trusted him because they knew he understood them and their situation. Afterall, he was one of them. He began to make a turn when he saw what he was doing to his family. At first he thought that recovery was impossible. For a guy like him, poor and addicted, he thought he wss unredeemable. He clung to the care of Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe's words to Blessed Juan Diego, "¿No estoy yo aquí que soy tu madre?"(Am I not here who am also your mother?)

So in one of the meetings for alcoholics run by religious congregations, he began to learn about the faith, and hoped in the resurrection. The rector of the Basilica of Guadalupe saw his leadership qualities and invited him to help in the ministry. In one of my meetings with him, he said that he has been sober for around 13 years, and since then he had repented and repaired his relationship with his family. Now he shares that resurrection experience with others. There is no way for overflowing gratitude, but share to others.

We have many times said to ourselves that there are dreams not worth pursuing because of all the odds. Or we believed that certain dark aspects of life cannot be healed. Even before daring. Even before trying. We have been defeated before fighting.

But the Resurrection jolts us to see that victory awaits us. There is forgiveness already offered for the gravest of sins, and hope for bleakest of situations. And there is no reason for us to forget: we are reminded by the celebration of Easter every year, or like the words of a bishop, "if only we understand Easter, we will see many Easters every single day."

Ang Ating Aleluya!

ika-23 ng Abril 2011. Kapistahan ng Muling Pagkabuhay ni Hesus
Gen 1:1-2:2; Ps 104; Gen 22:1-18; Ps 16; Ex 14:15-15:1; Ex 15; Is 54:5-14; Ps 30; Is 55:1-11; Is 12; Bar 3:9-4:4; Ps 19; Ex 36:16-28; Ps 42; Rom 6:3-11; Ps 118; Mt 28:1-10

Note: This article appears in Sambuhay missalette today. Sambuhay is a publications of the Society of St. Paul in the Philippines.

Happy Easter po sa inyong lahat!

Nakilala ko si Lupillo sa Mexico. Tinitipon niya ang mga adik sa alak at droga na nakakalat sa mga gusali. Inalagaan niya sila sa pamamagitan ng tulong na galing sa mga deboto ng Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. Walong taon na niya itong ginagawa. Araw-araw, umiikot siya sa paligid ng Basilica ng Guadalupe upang yayain sila na sumali sa panalangin, pagbabahagi, at salu-salo. May mga pagkakataong may paggamutan para sa mga may sugat at pantulong sa pag-iiwas sa mga bawal na gamot.

Nakuwento ni Lupillo sa amin kung paanong narating niya ang ganitong uri ng paglilingkod. Dati siyang taong-gusali. Kilala niya at kilala din siya ng ibang mga inanyayahan niya sa kanyang paglilingkod. 20 taon din siyang kasama nila. Ang pagiging isang katulad nila ang siyang nagbibigay ng patunay sa kanyang tapat na hangaring tulungan ding iahon ang kanyang kapwang may problema sa alak at droga. Sino pa nga bang makakaunawa sa kanila kundi ang taong naging tulad nila?

Nang nakita niya ang epekto ng kanyang ginagawa sa kanyang pamilya, naisip niyang magbagong-buhay at tulungan ang sariling maging malaya sa labis na pagkalulong sa alak at droga. Ngunit, alam niyang mahirap ito kaya hiniling niya ito sa Diyos sa pamamagitan ng Nuestra Señora ng Guadalupe. Araw-araw sa Basilica ng Guadalupe, hiniling niya ang lakas upang makaahon sa kanyang kadiliman. Lagi niyang iniisip ang sinabi ng Mahal na Ina ng Guadalupe kay Beato Juan Diego, "¿No estoy yo aquí que soy tu madre? Hindi ba't naririto ako, ang iyong nanay?"

Tumulong ako sa pagtitipong inoorganiza ni Lupillo. Nakita ko ang pagkakaibigan ng mga dumadalo. Ang pagbabahagi ng kanilang kuwentong-buhay ay nagsisimula sa pagpapakilala kung may bago mukha, at kung gaano katagal nang nakaiwas sila sa kanilang adiksyon. May nagsasabing isang linggo, tatlong buwan o dalawang taon. Sa bawat tagumpay, gaano man kaliit, pinapalakpakan nila ang bawat isa. Isang pagpapakita ng pakikiisa at suporta sa bawat hakbang tungo sa tuluyang pagbabago. Wika ni Lao Tzu: nagbibigay ng lakas ang pagmamahal ng iba sa atin, ngunit ang malalim na pag-ibig natin sa iba ang nagbibigay ng tapang at lakas ng loob sa atin.

Ang proseso at suportang ganito ang labis na nakatulong kay Lupillo. Dahil unti-unti na siyang gumagaling at napatunayan niya ang abilidad ng isang lider, kinuha siya ng Rector ng Basilica upang maging bahagi ng programa ng simbahan para sa mga nangangailangan. Ngayon, binabawi niya ang kanyang pagkukulang sa kanyang pamilya.

Ang pagsibol ng liwanag sa gitna ng kadiliman ang tema ng Pagdiriwang ng Muling Pagkabuhay ni Hesus. Inaalala natin ang tagumpay ni Hesus sa kamatayan, at pinagdiriwang natin ang paglaya sa ating mga kasalanan. Meron tayong matutunan sa buhay ni Lupillo, upang maisabuhay ang alleluia ng Gabing ito ng tunay na Liwanag!

Unang- una ang halaga ng alaala sa komunidad. Mahalagang balikan at ibahagi sa kasamahan ang ating kuwentong-buhay upang tanggapin at makita ang ating pinatutunguhan. Sa liturhiya ng Muling Pagkabuhay, isa-isa nating ginugunita sa mga pagbasa ang kuwento ng ating kaligtasan upang lalung maunawaan ang kahulugan ng pagpapakasakit at muling pagkabuhay ni Kristo. Sa pakikinig sa mga pagbasa mula sa Genesis, maaaninag natin ang galaw ng Diyos sa ating kasaysayan ng kaligtasan at sa ating personal na buhay. Nagkakaisa ang lahat ng Kristyano sa buong mundo dahil sa iisang alaalang nasa Banal na Kasulatan.

Pangalawa, ang halaga ng pagtanggap na galing sa Diyos ang anumang pagsibol ng panibagong buhay. May pangarap ang Diyos sa ating lahat. Hangad niyang makapiling tayong lahat sa Kaharian ng Langit. At dahil ito ang Kanyang hangarin, binibigay niya sa atin ang biyayang makamtan ito. Ito ang hiniling ni Lupillo sa Panginoon.

Panghuli, ang halagang makita at ipagdiwang ang unti-unting hakbang tungo sa ganap na pag-ahon. Ngunit merong nakakapigil sa atin upang lubusang makita at isabuhay ang pagdiriwang na ito. Madalas nating sabihin, "Wala namang nangyayari. Ganito pa rin ako." Hindi natin nakikita ang mga maliliit nating tagumpay kung ganito ang ating ugali. Tinatakpan nito ang ating mga mata upang makita na lumalapit na tayo sa kaganapan ng ating mga mithiin. Kasi, sanay tayong nakikita ang malaki at bonggang pangyayari lamang. Ngunit ang tunay na buhay ay isang proseso, isang unti-unting paglago. Kaya, tulad nina Lupillo, ang bawat maliit na alleluia ay pinapalakpakan.

Ipagdiwang natin ang ating mga maliit na tagumpay. Sa pagdiriwang ng Muling Pagkabuhay ng ating Panginoong Hesukristo, ipagdasal nating madama nang malalim sa buhay ang nangyayaring mga alleluia sa ating buhay tungo sa ating ganap na Alleluia!

Why We Celebrate Good Friday

22 April 2011 Good Friday
Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 31; Heb 4:14-5:9; John 18:1-19:42

When my father died, I was several miles away. I was in the hinterlands of Bukidnon, a barrio called Dumalaguing. At that time, no means of transporation could bring you there except by foot. It was a five- hour trek over high altitude trails and the vast Pulangi River that carved the valleys of the mountain region. The Bukidnon indigenous people lived in small communities. The connection we had to the outside world was through the local radio. The household of Manang Angging was tuned to this AM station when I heard about the news.

I arrived in Legazpi City dazed and disoriented. The death was sudden: dad's first and fatal stroke. He had seen me off to the Jesuit novitiate ten months ago. I did not know it would be the last time I would embrace him alive.

Amidst all the queries about the details of the funeral since I have to stand in my dad's place as the eldest, all I wanted to hear were his last days. What happened? What were his last words? Did he say something for me, for anyone in the family, for all of us? Not to piece a premonition theory, but to glean from his last days what may have summarized his life, and what could be my life's by-line.

What is there about the dividing line between life and death that I could, in whatever way, grasp and lived by? Some have indeed made their last deed a crowning achievement of what they lived for or what they have become. Richie Fernando SJ, my batchmate, died from a bomb in Cambodia, protecting the life of his student. Some yearned for those they dearly loved and thus desired to have them around their deathbeds; they were the ones the dying lived for. Some, a final gesture of forgiveness. In whatever way, we find the end sacred.

This to me is a way to understand Good Friday. The last moments of the life of Jesus are significant that we do not want to let go of them: we remember, we immerse ourselves in it, we glean from these moments what we can live by or die for. Most of all, we commemorate them with a spirit of reverence and recollection.

As the blessed sacrament is placed on a repository at the end of the Holy Thursday mass, we rewind our memories to the garden of Gethsemane where Jesus made the request to His disciples to stay with Him as He struggled in prayer. In our most tormented moments, or at the brink of death, we need the assuring company of our loved ones. And so, churches decorate the repository like a garden. Some repositories are decorated with a flourish of flowers and fountains (to the ire of liturgists who insist that it should be bare and simple). And we stay on our knees and pray. Some would take the Visita Iglesia, a journey visiting seven or more churches on Holy Thursday evening. We reenact the Garden scene: we, the present disciples, will stay and keep vigil, even for an hour.

On Good Friday, as the commemoration of the Passion unfolds towards the hour of death at 3 PM, various activities mark the movement towards Christ's death. In many nooks and crannies of neighborhoods, we hear the Pasyon ng Mahal na Panginoong Hesucristo, a chanting of the life of Jesus. There is a belief that it should end before the beginning of the Seven Last Words. Some would do the Stations of the Cross with their family and friends, and abandon any excesses. On Good Friday, loud revelry is prohibited to create an atmosphere of solemnity.

But the crowning liturgy is the Good Friday Service. It is the only day in the whole liturgical year that mass is NOT celebrated. In this service, we find the churches packed to the brim, and long lines at the veneration of the cross stretches the liturgy sometimes for three hours. But the people don't mind: what is three hours compared to the suffering of a God who loved us to His death?

The thing about death is this: there is not much to say. It strikes at the deepest core of our being. The very thing that fascinates and repels us is now staring back at us: death invites us to surrender. The cross is inevitable and necessary for our redemption. We kiss the cross of Christ with all reverence, following an acceptance and taking on of it, as true disciples of the One who died for our sins.

Sometimes we need to articulate what is obvious: the Passion of Jesus of Nazareth, the historical Jesus, is over and done. Jesus said it, "it is finished." But Christ in us still continues to suffer. He is nailed and crucified in us today. What is in us that makes Christ suffer? What needs to die in us? To answer this, we must remember His last days, His last words. Again and again.

His passion was filled with betrayals. A companion betrayed Him. His friends deserted him. They all ran away. His close friend denied Him. The people He died for are the ones who castigated Him. In different forms, there lurks in our hearts a streak of Judas, Peter, or a deserter, a Pharisee, an Annas or a Caiaphas, a mob, or a soldier who would strip and shame Jesus at the pressure of another, such as peers. Or a combination of them.

On the other hand, the responses to the repeated beatings are also in His last moments: words of forgiveness, compassion, and love. He who said to turn the right cheek when one slaps you on the left side of your face has walked the talk. The One who said that He was willing to die for His friends has proved it with His life. St. Ignatius of Loyola said that love ought to be showed more in deeds than in words: Jesus is the very source of this insight, because He is love itself.

There is more to one's last moments. They lead us to our very center where within it lies our deepest questions. Perhaps, they do not give us total clarity of what is in store for us when we die, but they indeed clear the way for us to live.

Q on Maundy Thursday: Were You Breast-fed?

21 April 2011 Holy Thursday
Exodus 12:1-14; Psalm 116; 1 Cor 11:23-26; John 13:1-15

I was breast-fed. What has this to do with Holy Thursday? I believe, a lot. So read on.

In the 4th century, pilgrims who made it to Jerusalem wanted to bring their experience home. So they began to reenact the last scenes of the life of Jesus in their liturgies, especially at the end days of Holy Week. The practice spread throughout all of Christendom that today Thursday, Friday and Saturday became the Triduum Sacrum (holy three days). These days correspond to the remembrance of the Last Supper, Passion, and Death of the Lord. Together with Easter, they have become the most solemn celebrations in the liturgical year.

Holy Thursday begins with the commemoration of the Last Supper. The Gospel brings us to the story of Jesus with his disciples at table. There is a feeling of impending doom. Judas, the betrayer, has entered into a pact to sell Jesus for 30 pieces of silver and has been waiting for an opportunity to give his Master away. The Pharisees' plot has started rolling. After all, Jesus has provoked their religious sensitivities by healing on a Sabbath and calling God, His Father, thus making Him His equal (John 5:18). Jesus, Himself, knows that the events are all coming to his eventual arrest. And so, to leave a mark, Jesus does two acts that will be remembered through all time: He breaks bread and He washes the feet of His disciples.

First, He breaks bread and shares the cup. These are gestures of nurturance. From one loaf at table, we slice the breakfast bread for everyone. In the drinking custom in the Philippines, tagay is drinking from one glass that is passed on among a group of friends. These nonverbal actions say more things than what meets the eye; its simplicity speaks which even a thousand words cannot suffice. Let's take the words of St. Paul from his letter to the Corinthians in the 2nd reading. The words I say during consecration at mass are taken from these too:

"The Lord Jesus on the night He was betrayed took bread, and when He had given thanks, he broke it and said, 'This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me'. In the same way, also the cup, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me." 1 Cor 11:23-25

Thus, to remember Jesus' gesture by breaking bread and passing the cup to one another became the identity of the early Christians. Today we call it their trademark or brand as a group of believers who proclaimed the Lord (1 Cor 11:26). It was their gesture of communion, of being one in the Lord.

And therefore, the sharing of one bread is an experience of being people of need, but also, people who fed each other from each other's substance. Isn't this what mothers do when they breastfeed their babies? Their milk is from their very substance which they give for their child's nourishment. And it is still best for babies-with effects even in adulthood!

In other words, being fed and at the same time of feeding one another are palpable experiences of communion, of being one body. It is Christ who feeds us from His substance and in turn, we also feed one another continuously, for the nourishment of all. Thus, we can talk about being fed from Christ's breast. St. Catherine of Sienna also says this. She writes to her friends in Naples:

Dearest mother and sisters in sweet Jesus Christ, I Catherine... write to you in his precious blood, with the desire to see you confirmed in true and perfect charity so that you be true nurses of your souls. For we cannot nourish others if first we do not nourish our souls with true and real virtues ... Do as the child does who, wanting to take milk, takes the mother's breast and places it in his mouth and draws to himself the milk by means of the flesh. So... we must attach ourselves to the breast of the crucified Christ, in whom we find the mother of charity, and draw from there by means of his flesh (that is the humanity) the milk that nourishes our souls. (Carolyn Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: the Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1987, p. 176)

Second, Jesus washes the feet of His disciples. The gesture is radical and revolutionary. Even today, no matter how we hear this from Jesus every single year, we are still in the 'old way' of thinking. Imagine the president of the country washing your feet? In a significant gathering, the 'who's who' will be given the presidential table. Or they will be given the first priority at the buffet table. If not, someone else will get food for them, so they won't have to bother lining up. Think of the mayor of the town in a wedding reception: no one will have him seat where the waiters are. Think of the priest who baptized your child: he will be shoved to the VIP table right away. But not anyone's fault: culture has it that to best way to show hospitality to the guest is to make them feel like the monarchs of old.

In other words, the shock value of Jesus' action is meant to be remembered. It illustrates that he is indeed radical and revolutionary, therefore His teaching on love is new and fresh. Service is defined as a washing of another's feet, a reversal of values. In practical life, the mayor and the priest should take the place of the food servers and househelps, and they in turn will be the ones to be served by those in the seat of power. (And challenge, will you do that to the mayor or the priest of your wedding? Or, will they like it? Test it: invite the homilist at the Holy Thursday mass and have him wash the dishes before you give him food. Try to do that to the bishop.)

The newness of the commandment of Jesus is where Maundy Thursday comes from. It comes from the latin, Mandatum novum, a new commandment. It is the Antiphon we use in the washing of the feet. The way to nurture each other is to serve each other THESE ways. If the mayor or the parish priest expects to be served than to serve, the effect is not mutual nourishment. I don't think I need to say more.

Take Your Branches to the Church

17 April 2011 Palm Sunday
Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalm 22; Phil 2:6-11; Matthew 26:14 - 27:66

Take your palm branches to the church and have it blessed. Attend mass, but don't leave without holy water sprinkled on your decorated palms. Today is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. This has been a tradition since the 4th century, and many Christians (not just Catholics) pretty do the same thing.

We reenact in the liturgy the entry of Jesus in Jerusalem where people took branches as He entered riding on an ass, as a king entering His kingdom. Cloaks carpeted His way. People singing, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of our God! Hosanna in the highest!" (Matthew 21:6-11).

What we don't know was that the gesture of waving branches was a political statement, since palm branches were a symbol of Israel's political sovereignty since the revolt of the Maccabees. The great desire of Israel to be freed from the clutches of foreign rule as Rome, stirred the need for a political Messiah which they thought would be in the person of Jesus. And they were disappointed: their concept destroyed when their king entered, not on a horse, but on a donkey.

This Sunday, therefore, invites us to enter into a reflective and solemn mood, like the need for quiet when we are frustrated. Jesus is a King of a different kind; His way is uncommon and radical. When we would rather go to war, He would vouch for peace. In fact, riding on a colt dug a common memory in the prophecy of Zechariah. It tells of a king who will ban armaments, whose rule will be gentle, and whose reign will be peaceful (Zechariah 9:9-10).

Palm Sunday challenges us to look closely and honestly into our ways and see which of our values conform with God, and which does not. When we speak ill of our enemies, especially those who do not agree with our positions on certain issues; when we would rather be antagonistic than respectful of them; when we are 'closed' than open for dialogue, are we like Jesus in His passion who neither wished harm on His enemies or summoned the angels to rain fire and brimstone on them?

Are we like Jesus who said, "Love your enemies" as the mark of a Christian, and even on the cross, prayed for forgiveness for them? Sometimes it is ironic that those who claim to be staunchly Christians revert to ways that are antithesis of the very values of Jesus. Instead of being like Christ, we become like the Pharisees, who thought they were doing a great service to their very faith. Look again, those who sang, Hosanna, as Jesus entered, would be the same ones who would shout, "Crucify Him" and put Him to death!

Jesus has atoned for our sins, meaning, He has reconciled us with God. He has made us one again with God. In the word, atonement, you can decipher the meaning: at-one. The Passion of the historical Jesus of Nazareth has been done in the past. It is finished. But it continues within ourselves: helping us rid of those disvalues, or the 'values' contradictory to God, so that we eventually become at one with God. The objective is clear; it's the very purpose of our creation: made in God's image and likeness. Isn't it just right to be reconciled with Him in the Sacrament of Reconciliation?

So, take your branches into the church! It is not to protect you from dark spirits when you place them on your door, as you commonly believe superstitiously. Or it is not to fulfill an obligation, so as not to invite the wrath of God on your life. You will not sin if you don't have branches. But bringing them helps.

The palm branches remind us to enter into the depths of the Holy Week by actively participating with the community in its recalling, reflecting, and being one with Christ who continually suffers today.

We pray that when we sing, "Hosanna" we rightfully acknowledge Christ as our Lord and King, the only one who possesses our very being! We will not anymore exchange Jesus for Barabbas, or cry, "Crucify Him!"

Observe: in all our masses, we sing the Sanctus, Hosanna in the highest. And when we do, we are at one with the choirs of angels in heaven!

Do You Believe in the Resurrection?

10 April 2011 The 5th Sunday of Lent
Ezekiel 37:12-14; Psalm 130; Rom 8:8-11; John 11:1-45

Note: This is a scheduled post. Every article published in this blog has been written long before the 11th of March 2011, the beginning of my 30-day retreat. The rest will come out at the date and time I have programmed it in blogger. A big favor to ask: please pray for Fr. John Murphy SJ, who gives the retreat and 8 Jesuits, including myself, doing the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. My prayers also for all of you who have sustained me and encouraged me to blog since 2005.

The ads tell it all: you have to believe in this product because the endorser testifies that indeed it is effective. Then you will see a correlation between the product and the endorser. Baby's milk by a celebrity mom; medicine by a certified medical practitioner; facial soap by a supermodel. To believe in a new product, we rely on other people's experiences.

Analogously, this is like the raising of Lazarus: the resurrection is true because Martha, Mary, the disciples and many others have seen it happen and believed (John 11:45). Six days before the Passover, Lazarus will sit at table with Him (John 12:1-2) while a great crowd will gather not just to see Jesus, but to see Lazarus (John 12:9).

In the Season of Lent, the Church gives us a guarantee of Easter; that Lent prepares us to the truth of the Resurrection. The last weeks of Lent is characterized by an impending sense of darkness and inevitability. There is no way for Jesus to save us, than the way of the cross. There is no way for us to experience the rise of new life, than the way of passion and suffering. Like an expectant mother: the way to behold her child is through labor. The guarantee is the Gospel story we heard today.

And therefore what is the importance of having a preview of the resurrection? It is for us: we need a witness or better, many witnesses who can testify that it is true. It is a consolation for Martha and Mary, that their belief in the resurrection is not an empty promise. That is why, aside from Peter in Matthew 16:16 and Andrew to Peter in John 1:41, there is no comparable statement that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God except from the mouth of Martha. To many in the early community of Christians, this confession was the mark of a true disciple.

Personally, the Raising of Lazarus is a story of great consolation. We hear this Gospel especially in funerals, and the context is correct. The story tells us about the close friendship of Jesus and the family of Martha, Mary and Lazarus. It tells us that this intimacy naturally compels Martha to send word to Jesus that His friend (their brother) is seriously ill. Jesus' coming is delayed and Lazarus dies. Mary approaches Jesus distraught and weeping, and some sharp words, "If you have been here, he would not have died." And Jesus' response is that of tears and weeping.

Isn't the dynamic of sorrow like the story? Those who genuinely weep are those who are in the community of love. And those that are within it share the experience of loss and tragedy. And most of all, those who can empathize are those whose hearts are also in pain with them, as the circle of Martha, Mary, the disciples and Jesus.

And what consolation to know that those who have died, did not vanish into thin air and became nothing as many Existentialists purports. How good it is to know that our deceased have actually passed on to a better life where we too will inevitably go - we will all die someday - but we will soon be with each other again!

But of course, we cannot preach this way to those in the midst of sorrow! In an occasion of great pain, the best response (and sensitively) is not to give a lecture on death and the resurrection. So, please do not attempt to quote all books that I have to be happy when at a family or a friend's wake. I KNOW but I don't need it at this time! And personally, don't give the "everything happens for a reason" because a road accident out of reckless driving is unreasonable! Sometimes these empty platitudes reveal our wanting to say something when there's no need. Enough said.

The best thing to do is what Jesus did: be with and share the sorrow with touch. See how He heals scores of broken people: the blind man (Mark 8:22-26), Peter's mother-in-law (Matthew 8:14-15), the daughter of Jairus (Mark 5:21-43), the woman with an hemorrhage who just touched His cloak (Mark 5:25-34) and many others!

Hold people's hands. Embrace them with great warmth and sincerity. Put your arms on the shoulder of the sorrowful. Weep with them as Jesus - though avoid the hysterical weeping! You know what I mean.

Our personal deaths or dryness, our private pains and wounds, are made whole again as we tenderly touch and are touched by one another. The Gospel about the raising of Lazarus proclaims the renewal that is discovered when we share our sufferings with one another. Healing, forgiveness, well-being are experiences of 'little easters' and they are all made possible in our interconnectedness! It goes without saying, aside from the miracle is for God's glory (John 11:4), that Jesus raised him (and not the many others who died) because of friendship, compassion and love.

As we enter into the heart of the Season of Lent in the celebration of the Holy Week, let us share each other's sorrows especially the regret for our sins because, the Lord, in His great love for us, takes on our sins and our sufferings and changes them to salvation and joy! Let us not forget to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, who suffered for us! He is the resurrection, the God who gives life.

How Do You Find Working?

3 April 2011 4th Sunday of Lent
1 Sam 16: 1-13; Psalm 23: 1-6; Eph 5:8-14; John 9:1-41

Note: This is a scheduled post. Every article published in this blog has been written long before the 11th of March 2011, the beginning of my 30-day retreat. The rest will come out at the date and time I have programmed it in blogger. A big favor to ask: please pray for 8 Jesuits, including myself, doing the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. My prayers also for all of you who have sustained me and encouraged me to blog since 2005.

How do you find your work? Or better, how do you find working? Do you like working or do you want to escape from work? Would you rather do nothing or would you do something? Our work is very much integral in our faith. So this Sunday, we shall look closely at the things we do every day.

We hear in the Gospel today Jesus working, specifically He is healing a man born blind. During the time of Jesus, people believed that blindness - or any disease or handicap for that matter - indicated God’s punishment for a sin. So that the disciples naturally asked, “Rabbi, was it his sin or that of his parents that caused his blindness?” (John 9:2).

Jesus answered, “Neither was it a sin of either his parents or of himself. Rather, it was to let God’s works show forth in Him. We must do the deeds of Him who sent Me while it is day” (John 9:3-4). Therefore, Christ pointed out that in the healing of the sick, His work gave glory to God.

This tells us so much about the works of Jesus and how He works. By the “works of Jesus” is meant ALL His deeds. It means His supernatural deeds such as His miracles. Making the blind see, the lame walk and raising the dead to life are some examples of supernatural deeds. He also performs redemptive acts as forgiving sins and reforming sinners.

But, take note, it also includes His work as a skilled laborer. He works as a carpenter, and He is known by his neighbors as a laborer. We often overlook this. We think that God’s work is always the ‘great’ events. Think again. He earns His keep as we do today. He is very much like you and me. In theology we always say, that Jesus is 100% human and 100% divine. Not 50% this and 50% that.

We have to remember that when Jesus began his public ministry, He was 30 years old. It is most probable that before His baptism in the Jordan, Jesus was working as a carpenter, first with St. Joseph, and then by Himself after Joseph passed away.

In our lives today, we too participate in the divine work of Jesus. As parents, God makes you His instruments to establish and continue human life on earth. To rear your children wisely in the Lord is cooperating with the creative act of the Lord. As those in the health and medical profession, you establish the “order” in a person’s physical body which the illness has corrupted. So that the body is “well again” -- in the words of Genesis, that everything is “good.” As lawyers, you re-establish and re-affirm the right order of society as God created it to be. As those in the restaurant business, you mend broken relationships when people kiss and make up while enjoying their dinner. Whatever we do, in whatever trade, skill or profession, we always participate in God’s creative action by providing the goods of life or by distributing them for the welfare of humanity.

So we can ask ourselves: With the specific work that I have, how do I participate with the work of God? How do I not cooperate with Him? What factors contribute or not contribute to full and active participation?

Second, the works of Jesus are always attune with the will of the Father. Every single deed is within the wavelength of God. This is a brought about by daily prayer. Jesus cooperates with His Father; His will is united to His Father’s will. He said, “My Father is at work until now, and I am at work as well” (John 5:16).

But surrendering to the will of the Father is not without struggle. Remember Gethsemane, He prayed to God, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt” (Matthew 26: 39). See how He submits His will to the Father!

In our daily tasks, we contribute to the redemption of the universe. Every day we find opportunities to practice faith, hope and charity; or we find situations to live a life of justice, prudence, prayer, peace or temperance. In our work places, there are missed opportunities because we are afraid of what people will say to us. In a culture where graft and corruption is accepted, people who wanted to do what is right are often ridiculed as “self-righteous” or “holier-than-thou.” In unjust structures, the right thing becomes counter-cultural.

Today, we can also reflect on these questions: How did I respond to opportunities to sanctify our lives? And how did I not respond to them? What inspires or prevents me from surrendering my will to the Father?

Finally, the deeds of Jesus glorify God that the crowds return to their homes praising and glorifying God. Every single deed of Christ therefore reveals God’s perfection. And when it is manifested, we experience God. In his letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul writes, “The fact is that whether you eat or drink -- whatever you do --- you should do all for the glory of God” (1 Cor 10:31). As Christ works in ourselves and in the world, so do we also work for the glory of God.

Aside from your ‘pious practices’ how do people see God’s glory in your daily and mundane deeds? How do you reflect the qualities of God in your actions?

Our work gives dignity and honor to ourselves. The more our works are united with the will of God, the more we become who we are meant to be --- as children of God. And so we encourage everyone to work, the way Jesus works. He said, “We must do the deeds of Him who sent Me” (John 9:3).