Mindful of the Original Plan

 

Sunday Reflection: 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)
(Gen 2:18-24 / Heb 2:9-11/ Mk 10:2-16)

We all make plans. We all have plans. We plan personally, or we plan as a group. We identify our objectives; we enumerate the means by which we arrive at those objectives; we chart a time frame; and then we decide on the date.

But experience would always tell us that sometimes, things don't go according to plan. That is why often we also prepare a back up plan, a Plan B so to speak. Just in case. Something that we pull off from our sleeves when things don't go as we would expect. We realize that there are things beyond our limited control.

When God created the world, he also had a plan, a very beautiful plan where things are in harmony as everyone else, and things would go as God would have wanted to. That's the very beautiful picture we find in our first reading for today from the Book of Genesis. God saw that man was not only alone but lonely. So God decided to put man to sleep, took one of his ribs which He formed into a woman. Seeing her the man said,

"This one, at last, is bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;
this one shall be called 'woman, '
for out of 'her man’ this one has been taken."

And the reading concludes that this is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife and the two become one flesh. The book of Genesis provides us a picture of the plan of God into the world. In this case, the wonderful complimentarity between man and woman in a union which we now call marriage. Marriage affirms the original plan of complimentarity of sexes, a complimentarity that is exclusive, fruitful and enduring. It is exclusive because the marital unity of husband and wife excludes other "third" parties. It is fruitful because the complimentarity of sexes bears fruit in the birth of children to be raised by them. And it is enduring because their marital unity, joined by God, is geared towards the raising of these children given birth through them. An enduring character to which Jesus speaks in the Gospel today:

Therefore what God has joined together,
no human being must separate.

We all live in a time where change is so rapid that what's timeless has become ephemeral, enjoyed only for a short time. A lot of young people nowadays ask whether there really is "forever" (mostly because of failed attempts at keeping things and people only to inevitably lose them).  A lot of marriages end way too soon, the once sweet romance now only a guest from a distant past. We all try to make do with what we have, patching things up with whatever resource we can have in order to salvage whatever debris is left that's of still use. We blame our naive selves and vowing not to commit the same mistake again (and all too soon we fall in the same hole). We conceptualize Plan B, Plan C, Plan D way up to Plan Z. But have we considered again the Original Plan, the Plan A, which was there at the beginning?

Why are there even backup plans? All because of the hardness of our hearts. We insist on what we want, on what we know, and on what we do all unmindful that--in the beginning--God already has plans for us too! Yes, living in a world where mistakes, mishaps and misalignments are as common as the air we breathe, we sometimes become unmindful already of the Original Plan that was there at the beginning of the world. We all made mistakes, and we make the best of what we have. But perhaps it's also good to think back and walk towards the direction of the Master Plan that God has since time immemorial.

Merging our story with God's plan

 

Weekday Reflection: Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary
(Mi 5:1-4 / Mt 1:1-16. 18-23)

 

Everything that exists exists for a reason. And every thing that comes to existence, comes to existence also for a reason. Each birth of a person into the world entails a twofold unfolding. The first unfolding is that of a unique story whose main character is that person given birth. The second unfolding is the story of the greater scheme of things—the unfolding of God’s great plan—where the person given birth is continually invited to participate in.

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The event of the salvation of the world is but the culmination of the story of the life of Jesus Christ. And the story of Jesus would not come to pass if it weren’t for the story of the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary herself.

When Mary was born, the whole creation groaned in excitement for the imminent restoration of the world.

We know very little about the life of Mary, but what we do know suffices for us to affirm that she played her part well in the unfolding of God’s great plan. Mary knew of the promise of Yahweh that a savior shall be born into the world from the line of David. The whole people of Israel, from one generation to the next, await for the fulfillment of God’s saving promise. Mary knew this both in her mind and in her heart. She trusted that what God has promised, He will fulfill.

The announcement by the Angel Gabriel that she was chosen by God to be the mother of the Savior was the crucial fusion of the twofold unfolding stories. Before the annunciation, Mary thought she was only a spectator in the unfolding drama of salvation. She thought she was just one among the audience looking towards the stage where the plan of God slowly unfolds. Then, that great event happened. The spotlight turned around and spun towards where she was. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on her. The whole creation gazed in surprise and excitement. She was called to step out of the darkness of her audience seat to walk towards the bright and open stage of the whole theatre of life. The Angel Gabriel asked her, “Shall you play a major role in the drama of salvation?” “Are you willing to step out of the dark anonymity of spectator life, and step into the bright but blinding light of being in the center stage; the center stage where everything about you—your life, your dreams, your joy and pain—shall be under the watchful but scrutinizing judgment of everyone?” Mary’s response was a simple yet pregrant “yes”.

Mary was well aware that it would be a miracle for her to conceive child without any relation with a man. Mary was well aware that she would be placed under social stigma when people come to know that she bears a child out of wedlock. Mary was well aware that Joseph, to whom she was betrothed, might reject her. Mary was well aware her own family, relatives and friends may not understand what has happened to her, or perhaps even believe her story of divine visitation by an angel. Her jump from dark anonymity to the blinding light was swift, abrupt, and decisive. But in all these, she believed and trusted in God’s promise. She believed that God has a great plan, and when she came to know that she shall play a crucial role in this great plan, she trusted that God would never fail in his plan—if she gives herself totally to it.

The unfolding of her life and the unfolding of God’s plan beautifully merged in her simple “yes” to God.

As we celebrate her birthday today, are we also, like Mary, willing to give this “yes” in order to join together our personal story and God’s great plan?

Keen on the gift, but not on the giver

Sunday Reflection: 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)
(Ex 16:2-4. 12-15 / Eph 4:17. 20-24 / Jn 6:24-35) 

Consider the old Chinese provide, "Give someone a fish and he eats for a day. Teach one how to fish and he eats for a lifetime." The point in the saying is that we keep our aim not on what satisfies us momentarily, but to strive towards longterm sustenance. Though it is good to live for the day, sometimes we get too enmeshed in the preoccupation of the moment that we lose track of the tomorrow that always awaits us. Both is the ecstasy of the now, and in the troubles of today, we sometimes end up turning a blind eye to what's next, such that the things of tomorrow often catch us surprised and unready.

Constantly aim for longterm sustainability.

Hence, we can also say. "Get hold of the gift and you'll be happy for the day, hold on to the giver and you'll be happy for a lifetime."

This is not to suggest that we become scheming "friendly-users." It's a simple reminder of a truth in human experience that, caught up in the joy of the moment, we become too keen on the gift we received that we become unmindful, or at least become perfunctory, of the person who gave it. 

Once, I was with another Filipino visiting priest in Los Angeles during the Christmas break. In keeping with the season, people were giving gifts and personal cheques to us priests usually after the mass. As there are so many people to greet with a smile, and the goings-on of gift giving, we priests simply accept envelopes from parishioners unmindful of the amount they bear, often forgeting already who gave what. 

One Sunday, a parishioner gave each of us priests an envelope, which was not unusual, coupled with the warm greeting of Merry Christmas. When time already permitted, after we returned to our respective rooms, we opened our envelopes. There were cash, and there were cheques. 

One cheque was a sizeable amount of $100. Later on, the two of us priests made referrence to the hefty cheque we received, not least gracious for the generous gift. The following Sunday the same lady who gave us the envelopes the week before greeted us again, but now introducing herself. Upon hearing her name, I was reminded of the name printed on the personal cheque bearing the $100 amount. I tried to entertain her and carry a brief conversation just to indicate that I recognized her as the generous donor, and that I was very grateful for the gift. Later, exiting the church, my priest companion asked me about the lady I briefly talked to. I repeated her name to him. I asked my priest companion, "The name doesn't ring a bell to you?" "No," he replied. "That's the name printed on the personal cheque we got each amounting to $100! She was the generous donor!" He only reponded "ah". To which I immediately asked, "Don't you read the names of the donors who give you personal cheques?" "Hmmm, not really."

Sometimes we can be so keen on the amount written on a cheque that we forget to notice the name of the donor printed on it.

The readings for today speaks of the bread that came down from heaven. In the Old Testament, as we hear in our first reading for today, it was in reference to the manna that the Israelites received as they journeyed from their slavery in Egypt to their attainment of freedom in the promised land.

This is likewise repeated in the Responsorial Psalm of today: The Lord gave them bread from heaven.

Furthermore, Jesus speaks of this in the Gospel Reading.

However, the problem is clearly revealed in the Gospel reading, especially when we hear Jesus saying:

“Amen, amen, I say to you,
you are looking for me not because you saw signs
but because you ate the loaves and were filled. 

The people who were there in the feeding of the multitude were looking for Jesus, not because they long for him, but because of the food that they gave him.  The people totally missed the point that Jesus wanted to send in the sign that he performed. Even after clarifying to the people that it was not Moses, but the Father in heaven who gave manna to their ancestors in the desert, the people was still more concerned about the bread itself. Jesus had to tell them explicitly that he was that bread!

So they said to him,
“Sir, give us this bread always.” 
Jesus said to them,
“I am the bread of life;
whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”

A gift is always a symbol of friendship. Either of one that already exists. Or of an invitation that friendship may really start and hopefully grow.

When Yahweh gave the Israelites their bread in the dessert, God wanted that the people may genuinely enter into a real relationship with him. That's what "Israel" literally means, God's chosen people. When Jesus gave the people bread to eat in the multiplication of the loaves, Jesus wanted to enter into a relationship with them, but the people was more keen on the bread that he can give.

Only at the end did the people realize that the bread, the real gift of Jesus was not the bread that they ate in the miraculous multiplication event. The real gift of Jesus was himself. He is the bread come down from heaven. He is the gift of the Father himself. And that this gift is symbolic of the invitation that we, those who partake of this bread, enter into a genuine relationship with the giver.

Once we become more keen on the giver, when we become converted in longing for the source of the gift, rather than the gift itself, we are renewed for we no longer desire the gift, but the giver himself.

you should put away the old self of your former way of life,
corrupted through deceitful desires,
and be renewed in the spirit of your minds,
and put on the new self,
created in God’s way in righteousness and holiness of truth.

This Sunday, we ask ourselves: are we more interested in the gift? or perhaps in the person who is the source of this gift? 

When humans add, God multiplies

Sunday Reflection: 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)
(2 Kings 4:42-44 / Eph 4:1-6 / Jn 6:1-15) 

This morning, I was blessed to attend the diaconal ordination of two of my former philosophy students since I got back in the Philippines 2009. As they lie prostrate while everyone was singing the litany of saints on their knees, I contemplated the scene at the altar, and try to recall some of the shared stories of their lives. Some of my former students have left seminary formation on regency; some have decided that God calls them to the married life; some are still journeying and discerning God's will. But for these two former students, the simple "yes" that they made when they decided to enter the seminary is now starting to bear fruit in a life-long commitment to becoming priests of God.

One simple "yes" to God has multiplied into the many "yeses" of years of seminary formation, and which now comes to the big "YES" to the transitional phase of ordination to the diaconate.

They gave their "yes" to the mission of Christ, and Christ blessed this "yes", multiplying it a hundredfold. All these "yeses" in the spirit of generosity and self-giving.

The Gospel and the First Reading of today speaks of generosity. In the First Reading, a man from Baal-shalishah went to the Prophet Elisha with twenty barley loaves and fresh grain from the ear. The gifts were obviously not enough for the hundred people gathered.  Yet, Elisha insisted twice:

“Give it to the people to eat.” 

His servant reluctantly complied, and miraculously the loaves were multiplied, such that leftovers were even gathered after the people had their fill.

The loaves offered as a gift enough only for a few were multiplied by God as a blessing to many.

The Gospel Reading for today repeats the same theme. It's a well known account, with all four Gospels offering their own version of the "Feeding of the Five Thousand." What is unique, though, in John's version, which we hear today, is that the five barley loaves and two fish came from a boy.

Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to him,
“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish;
but what good are these for so many?” 

Both the First and the Gospel readings speak of generosity and self-forgetfulness. Moreover, these two readings distinguish two groups of people with a different attitude. The man from Baal-shalisha and the boy from the Gospel Reading, who both were generous in offering whatever they have, however measly, were motivated by an Attitude of Abundance. Whatever they have, they give. It's an attitude that flows from a heart in the habit of offering itself to others. It is not calculative because this attitude stems from a worldview that there will always be enough for everyone if each offers the little that one has. In this attitude, there is value in sharing and camaraderie.

The other group of people refers to the servant of the Prophet Elisha and to Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter. Elisha's servant objected:

“How can I set this before a hundred people?” 

While Andrew was even more cynical:

 but what good are these for so many?” 

Both these persons were motivated by an Attitude of Scarcity. It's a calculative attitude that proceeds from a heart that feels that when one gives something, that is something taken away from the self. It's an attitude that stems from a worldview that what is given to others is deprived of the self. In this attitude, there is no value in sharing and camaraderie, but only in competition, greed, and hoarding only for the sake of the self and the others one loves.

In a world focused on the material, an attitude of scarcity abounds. A whole cake shared by many only means that each would have a small share. However, this world is not only material. It's also spiritual. The fabric of this world is made of the spiritual values of love, care, understanding, peace, knowledge, forgiveness, and others. We don't lose love, when we give love. We don't lessen our knowledge, when we start sharing our knowledge. Yes, we may become hungry by offering what we have to others hungrier than us. But the value of sacrifice is the seed of which a forest of generosity starts. That forest may never see the light of day, if there were no one generous enough to offer what one has in the spirit of self-forgetfulness. It is this generosity filled with an attitude of abundance that God blesses and multiplies.

There is an old Filipino saying, "Nasa Diyos ang awa, nasa tao ang gawa." Perhaps this world would be blessed a hundredfold more, if only there were few people generous enough to offer what they have, even if a little.

The simple "yes" to the priesthood of my former students may have seem measly, insignificant and paltry at the beginning of their seminary formation, but along the way, God blessed that personal affirmation with the many "yeses" each step of the way. Now it's starting to flower and bear fruit.

Yes, God multiples by blessing, but only if we learn to add something, in the spirit of self-forgetfulness and generosity.


1st Image: a photo of the ancient mosaic found beneath the altar of the church in Tabgha, Israel.
2nd Image: a photo taken during the diaconal ordination held at Santuario de San Vicente de Paul in Tandang Sora, 25 July 2015.

 

Compassion makes us shepherd to one another

Sunday Reflection: 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)
(Jer 23:1-6 / Eph 2:13-18 / Mk 6:30-34) 

Last Thursday, some youth invited me to have lunch at a resto near St. Columban Church, where they serve rice-toppings at a very affordable price. It wasn't just the price that interested us. The food was also excellent, considering that it's a street-side eatery. While we were waiting for our order, two children aged around 9 and 14 approached the small table where I was seated. Both sat in one chair across my table, begging for money. I asked the elder one why they aren't in school, as they were wearing public school uniform shorts. The elder one, JK, told me their classes are in the afternoon, leaving them free in the morning--free to beg for money. I asked them, why beg? The elder one said his parents were poor. His mother was a laundry woman, his father works as a carpenter, and he's the eldest of four children. In poverty, his parents couldn't give him any "baon" for school, so he begs to relieve his parents of some more financial obligations toward him.

Somehow I felt there was something unique about JK. He's street smart, and his out-of-school begging really proceeded from a  heart with a love for his own family. As the eldest of four siblings, he felt he's also responsible for his family, if not to earn something for the family, at least to minimize their day-to-day expenses. He wasn't bashful in proudly saying that he's the Top 7 in his class at Jackson.  

Other than offering both of them 20 pesos. I gave JK my name and my mobile number. I told him to give the paper to his parents and contact me. I told JK I was willing to offer his parents some jobs of a higher pay, to help a bit his family, in the hope that JK would stick more to school and would not feel the need to go on begging in the streets of Olongapo. 

Then JK lowered his head. Using his slightly dirty shirt, he tried to wipe the tears that were starting to flow.

It was then that compassion started to fill my heart. Somehow I felt what he was feeling. Somehow I found myself in his shoes. My memory was even flooded with events in the past when my brother and I would find ways to "work" to earn something to minimize the financial worries of our parents. We'd sell ice candies our mother would prepare along the dusty streets of our barrio, or at the tricycle station in Brgy. West Dirita in San Antonio. We'd sell "pilipit" and doughnuts that our neighbor would make, offering us kids a small share of the income. 

I'd told him I'll try to help his family the best way I can, to keep him away from the hazards of the streets of Olongapo. And that's what I did, when, eventually I was able to meet his family in their home, which is actually just walking distance from St. Columban's. 

Compassion. In the world filled with wounded people--wounded by poverty, exploitation, and neglect--compassion is like a healing balm soothing the pain, a remedy for the aches and worries. Compassion gives comfort to the recipient, and inner joy to the giver. 

Compassion is that force of gravity that binds the problem to the solution, the suffering to the comfort, the wound to its remedy, the sick to the doctor, the sinner to his redeemer. Yes, the sheep to the shepherd.

Indeed, compassion is what makes the heart of the shepherd, both genuine and good. Compassion is the essence of a Good Shepherd.

Compassion is one thing that the evil shepherds don't have in today's First Reading from the prophet Jeremiah. 

Woe to the shepherds
who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture,
says the LORD. 
Therefore, thus says the LORD, the God of Israel,
against the shepherds who shepherd my people:
You have scattered my sheep and driven them away. 
You have not cared for them,
but I will take care to punish your evil deeds. 

These shepherds being condemned by Yahweh have no room for compassion in their heart. They never really cared for the sheep. Jeremiah reminds the people that Yahweh himself shall shepherd the people, and gather them together so that they have no cause for fear and trembling.

But still, Yahweh, shall send someone to shepherd his people.

Behold, the days are coming, says the LORD,
when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David;
as king he shall reign and govern wisely,
he shall do what is just and right in the land.

In the Second Reading of today, St. Paul says that this righteous and just shepherd is none other than Jesus Christ himself. He is the one, from the line of David, who shall bring peace in a troubled world. Jesus Christ will unite the people of God in peace, and in him they shall find union with the Father in heaven.

He came and preached peace to you who were far off
and peace to those who were near,
for through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father.

We see this clearly in our Gospel reading for today. Jesus didn't just feel compassion towards his disciples who labored:

“Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” 

He also felt compassion for the many people who came, and looked for them, finding in them the painful need to be guided by an able shepherd.

The heart of Jesus was filled with compassion. It was filled with pity for the people.

When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

Perhaps this world would be a better place if there were more compassionate shepherds around us. What do we feel when people are mistreated? What fills our heart when people are living in abject poverty? Who do we see in the faces of dirty children begging for food and money in the streets? Do we even feel the pain of others, especially when they are hurting? Do we experience the ache, even of a stranger who is wounded, physically and emotionally?

Does our heart have a room for compassion at all?

Perhaps if we have more place for compassion in our heart, this world would be a better place--because there will always be someone who will help to someone in need.

 

No one too unworthy of God's call to be a prophet

Sunday Reflection: 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)
(Am 7:12-15 / Eph 1:3-14 / Mk 6:7-13) 

I recall praying on my knees, a few months before my priestly ordination, asking God sincerely: "Lord, am I really worthy of this vocation?"

There were so many things filling my mind with interior doubts while outwardly I was busy preparing for the big day. Though I can safely say I'm religious, I didn't come from a religious family. Our family is just a regular Sunday goer. My mother is even Aglipayan, like the rest of my maternal relatives. I wasn't very active in the Church. Unlike other seminarians, I wasn't an altar server. Neither did I aspire to become a priest while I was young. My entrance to the high school seminary was an "accident." Though I may have fared well academically at school, it was clear to me that academics and pastoral aren't of the same color. Priests have to be sociable, but I tend to be distant. Though my IQ may perhaps be somewhere on the higher end of average, am sure my EQ is a few rungs below it. Priests are supposed to be good preachers. I've never been comfortable in front of an audience, much less in front of a big congregation! And I have yet to enumerate here my many sins, both the petty ones and the graver ones! Yes, I have a litany of reasons that make me feel unworthy of the priesthood, but there was one reason that trumps them all:

For some mysterious reasons, God decided to call me inspite of everything.

In the first reading of today, it was very clear to Amos that he wasn't worthy to become a prophet. Hearing Amaziah's words while being shooed away, he must have said to himself interiorly "But this is not what I do, and I'm not here because I wanted to!"Amos was only too well aware that he's far from worthy of being a prophet. He says,

I was no prophet,
nor have I belonged to a company of prophets;
I was a shepherd and a dresser of sycamores. 
The LORD took me from following the flock, and said to me,
Go, prophesy to my people Israel.

A humble shepherd and dresser of sycamore suddenly, and for some mysterious reasons, God has called to become a prophet--not to some persons or any small town, but to God's people Israel! A very daunting task, especially for an unprepared shepherd and dresser!

But when God said, "Go!" He did go.

Prophets of God are a mixed type, inclusive of the typical to the most unlikely. Indeed, those who prophecy well tend to be those of the latter type. Somehow shock and surprise coming from the people to whom prophets are sent are a good preparation for the reception of God's saving word.

Despite the multiplicity of backgrounds, there is only one common denominator among all prophets of God: God simply calls them.

In the Gospel of today, Jesus calls and sends his Apostles to go on mission to preach God's kingdom.

Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two

God calls, and he is not a choosy God. The saints that we have in the Church is a testament that God calls people to become his prophets, and he calls from all walks of life. The shepherds. The dressers. And yes, even the great sinners as this is clearly revealed in the list of people he chose to be his Apostles!

St. Peter the Apostle is both cocky and a traitor. Thomas who is more known as a doubter than as an apostle. St. Matthew was a tax-collector! One can add to this list St. Paul of Tarsus who had blood in his hands.

Although St. Augustine may also come to mind as among the greatest sinners who eventually became a great saint, there are still quite a lot, even greater sinners than Augustine!

St. Mary of Egypt was an accomplished prostitute who at age 12 ran away from home in Alexandria. She specialized in corrupting innocent young men. Once she embarked on a ship on a trip to Holy Land. By the time the group reached the destination, she was able to seduce all the male crew and pilgrims!

Mass murders who became evangelizers? St. Olga of Kiev and her own grandson, St. Vladimir were of this type. Looking for the repentant version of Ebenezer Scrooge? Check out St. Thomas Becket!

No one is too far away from God. No one is too unworthy of his call. In fact, all of us are called even before we were born. In the second reading, St. Paul attests:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who has blessed us in Christ
with every spiritual blessing in the heavens,
as he chose us in him, before the foundation of the world,
to be holy and without blemish before him. 
In love he destined us for adoption to himself through Jesus Christ,
in accord with the favor of his will,
for the praise of the glory of his grace
that he granted us in the beloved.

In the many ways God calls us, only one thing is required: a willingness to give God a shot at one's life! (and perhaps also, an openness to the surprises that God has up his sleeves!)

Put Christ above all else

Weekday Reflection: Saturday of the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)

Memorial of St. Benedict, abbot

(Gn 49:29-32; 50:15-26 / Mt 10:24-33) 

"Do not be afraid!" Three times the Gospel reading of today repeats the same message, that we, Christ's disciples, should not be afraid.

In a world filed with uncertainties due to climatic events, war between nations, rampant poverty and even cultural clashes, the message of Jesus still echoes: do not be afraid. In a world where a number of people are filled with anxiety and burdened with stress in their day-to-day lives to earn a decent living, to raise a good family, to maintain good rapport with friends and neighbors, the message of Jesus still echoes: do not be afraid.

Why is there no room for fear? Amidst the gloomy darkness that hangs over us all? Because God is with us. Because God loves us and cares for us. Yes, we can never be his equal. We will always be under him.

No disciple is above his teacher,
no slave above his master.
It is enough for the disciple that he become like his teacher,
for the slave that he become like his master.

As disciples and slaves, we are always under the care and watchful gaze of our teacher and master--and we have a great and loving master of our lives! There is nothing in our life that he does not consider. Yes, even those things we just pass over in neglect, God considers them, counts them. Our life is not an added bonus ancillary to someone else's. The life of each one has an inherent worth.

Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin?
Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge.
Even all the hairs of your head are counted.
So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

 If the message of Jesus is "Do not be afraid", how can we live that in our lives? What first step do we need in order to live a life of fearless trust in God?

Here, we have a perfect counsel from St. Benedict of Nursia, whose feast we celebrate today: "Put Christ above all else!" We all have our own private concerns, both great and small. We are all engaged in doing things on a local and perhaps even global scale. In the ins and outs of life, we hardly have time for our self, much less for others. And yet, in all these, what is the wise counsel of St. Benedict? "Put Christ above all else."

Our life is a whole lump of building blocks. There are the slabs of family life. There are the nuggets of personal and career ambitions. There are the bricks of friendships and camaraderie. There are the cubes of financial and other material goals. Each block we put on top of another. They sometimes collapse and fall apart. We try to build our lives again with these building blocks, hoping to make a stable and permanent structure out of them. But in all these, the counsel of St. Benedict is "Put Christ above all else." To place God on top of all these building blocks so that all these concerns, both petty and immense ones, are under God's providential care.

Another way of saying it is to always see things from God's point of view. To put Christ above all else means that we see all these building blocks of our lives from the perspective of God--from the vantage point of God's plan for all of us. We need to always see (small) things from the (bigger) perspective of God's design for us in our lives. If we consume all our energy attending to the small, we leave nothing much such that we no longer see these things in their togetherness.

Yes, some people attend too much to every single tree. Their kind; their color; their shape; their age, etc. They exhaust themselves attending to each tree, that they have become lost in the woods. They could not see the forest anymore. They see the trees but not the forest.

Seeing the forest while attending to the trees is exactly what putting Christ above all means. We need to see all these from the standpoint of God. Yes, we can never completely see things the way God sees them. But the challenge of Jesus is to trust in God who sees everything.

Though we may never fully have God's point of view. What we are capable of us is trust fully in a God whose point of view is so much wider and bigger and grander than our own. If we are capable of that total trust in God, then the paralyzing fear of which the Gospel warns us will always be held at bay.

The first reading of today caps everything in the right perspective. When Jacob, the father of Joseph was already dead, his brothers were filled with fear for their lives thinking that Joseph might turn against them in hate because of what they did to him in his youth--disowned him and sold him as a slave to Eyptian merchants. In fear, they contrived even a lie, putting words into their dead father's mouth. Jacob, before dying, has said to have pleaded that Joseph's brothers be forgiven of their crimes. Joseph's brothers have good reasons to fear in view of their past misdeeds. They were filled with fear. A paralyzing fear that they would be left for dead because of the famine that plagued the entire region.

What was the response of Joseph?

“Have no fear. Can I take the place of God?Even though you meant harm to me, God meant it for good,to achieve his present end, the survival of many people.Therefore have no fear.I will provide for you and for your children.”

Joseph had good reasons to get even with his brothers, now that their father Jacob is dead. Joseph was at liberty to take revenge, especially now that he is on the advantage.

Yet, he knew he was not in the place of God. Joseph saw his life, with all the downs (like being sold as a slave) and ups (like being raised as a viceroy of Egypt), as part of God's plan. Joseph did not give in to the petty concerns of revenge and retaliation (which are justly his), and instead put all things in the perspective of God's plan.

Yes, Joseph, when he was sold as a slave may have been filled with fear also. He feared for his own life and his future. But he learned to put his life in the care of a providential God. He trusted in the wise plans of God. He put God above all else.

And that decision made all the difference in his life.

Mouthpiece of God

Weekday Reflection: Friday of the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)

(Gn 46:1-7, 28-30 / Mt 10:16-23) 

Way back when I was a theology student at San Carlos Seminary, I would always remember the many courses on Homiletics that we would have, practically every semester of the four years of theology! Somehow, we were honed and trained in all aspects of preparing homilies, and in fairness, a good number of the institution's graduates ended up as exemplary preachers behind the pulpit.

Preparation was almost everything: lectio divina; meditation on the readings; another set of readings but now their corresponding commentaries in order to accomplish a reasonable exigesis of the texts at hand; correlating the chosen theme on which one will focus, with events of everyday life in order to contextualize God's message for the hearers of today; finding suitable illustrations to drive the point more clearly--and more interestingly; then, if one be strict about procedures, to write down the whole homily to thresh out the ideas more clearly and develop them more coherently; and finally, prepare an outline based on the written homily which the preacher shall carry to the pulpit as an aid to remember all points that need to be raised during its delivery while at mass.

I say, preparation was almost everything. Almost--because everything I've mentioned earlier were simply icing on a cake, glittering wrappers on a gift. The core, the important thing, is still left untouched: that in the end, as preachers, we are simply the mouthpiece of God.

The Gospel reading of today lay it out in no unclear terms:

When they hand you over,
do not worry about how you are to speak
or what you are to say.
You will be given at that moment what you are to say.
For it will not be you who speak
but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

Both the manner (how) and the content (what) of what we say shall come from the Spirit of the Father at work within us.

Jesus had no intention to watering down the big demands of discipleship. It will be hard--and even dangerous!

Behold, I am sending you like sheep in the midst of wolves

Yet, he will never leave us. He will be with us in all these, just like what Yahweh said to Jacob in the first reading of today. Both in Jacob's journey to Egypt, and his own return after Joseph, his son, closed his eyes, God will always be with him. God will journey with him. He will be a true Emmanuel--God is with us. More profoundly, it's not simply that God is with us. Rather, in all journeys and stages of life, what Jesus is telling us is that God will always be in us!

God will not just be journeying before us, or with us, but in us!

We shall become the mouthpiece of God because God's Spirit is within ourselves, The Spirit of the Father will speak through us.

A few days ago, I stumbled upon an interesting new book at the St. Justin Library of St. Vincent School of Theology in Quezon City where I teach. It's a book by Gerald May, MD, entitled The Dark Night of the Soul (2004). Since high school, I already had a fascination with the Carmelite mystic St. John of the Cross. The book by May, a psychiatrist and a Methodist, is supposed to offer a corrective reading of the "Dark Night" (noche obscura) in John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila in view of some current misunderstandings. Foremost of these misunderstandings would be to understand the Dark Night as a life-denying gloomy journey to holiness of life.

One of the important insights I got from that book was the author's insistence that in both mystics' spiritual theology, there really is no room for a dualism, read: "God and me." A closer reading of both mystics' thought on the relationship between God and human is more in the phrase of: "God who is in me, and I who am in God." The relationship between God and human is one of co-penetration, and not simply a juxtaposition of two discrete entities.

This truth is a common affirmation among all mystics, not just Christians, but in the broad spectrum of world religions. Indeed, in the spirit of St. Augustine, God is closer to oneself than the self is to itself. God is at the core of our being. That is why the Spirit of the Father can speak through us, because God is ultimately in us.

And they who recognize this truth first, are the mystics themselves.

No wonder that in the cacophony of opinions, mystics are lone voices. They are genuine prophets, for what they speak is ultimately not theirs, but the Spirit of the Father, speaking, uttering, preaching, proclaiming through them.

Mystics. Prophets. Mouthpieces of God.