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.

Continue telling stories

Weekday Reflection: Monday of the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)
(Gn 28:10-22 / Mt 9:18-26) 

I find it coincidental--or better yet providential--that as I decide to revive this old blog, I end up starting with a reading, the one from Genesis 28-10-22, that started all things about Bethel: the story of Jacob, journeying and deciding to sleep in a shrine, and making use of a stone for a pillow, started to dream of a stairway connecting heaven and earth, and angels climbing up and going down on it. Upon waking, he decided to call the place Bethel, the abode of God, to capture his own experience of finding God in unexpected places,

“Truly, the LORD is in this spot, although I did not know it!”

The story of Jacob's dream is the first reading of Monday of the 14th Week in Ordinary Time. It's the reading for today. Some say it's just a dream, like any other dream. However, for the Israelites, God speaks to his people in many ways, including dreams. Jacob, in his journey from Beer-sheba towards Haran, experienced that the dream wasn't just ordinary. It was a divine encounter reminding him that as he journeys through the many stages of his life, God will always be with him, most especially in those moments he least expects.

Life is a journey. Life is like that ladder connecting heaven and earth, and through all the ups and downs in this stairway, God's messengers will also be there, helping us, guiding us, inspiring us to trust in his providence. The responsorial psalm for today cannot but capture this message:

In you, my God, I place my trust.

 Life as a journey takes on many forms. Some travel fast, while others slow. Some travel light, while others bring with them all that they need and want. Some travel adventurously, taking all possible detours to explore the countryside. Some even take risks of being lost in order to genuinely find their true selves. While some journey in togetherness, others prefer solitude, in order to live deeply and to "suck out all the marrow of life" in the famous words of Henry David Thoreau.

But through all these, there is a dreaded form that we seek to avoid--to walk aimlessly.

To walk aimlessly is to walk without a purpose, without a destination. It is the sort of walking that undermines itself. It is simply the movement of our feet, in total absence of a goal that brings us from one point to another.

In the gospel reading of today, there are many journeys. There is the official journeying to meet Jesus in order to desperately beg him to revive his daughter who just died. There is the woman suffering from hemorrhages for 12 years walking up to Jesus believing that if only she could touch the tassel of his cloak, she shall be healed. There are the disciples of Jesus who follow him wherever he goes. And of course, there is Jesus himself, walking, traveling, journeying among towns and villages preaching, healing, driving out demons, bringing the Good News to all people he encounters along the way.

In all these walking, journeying, traveling, there is always a spot where the Divine is encountered. In the wise words heard in preaching, in the mighty deeds of healing, and let us not forget, in the humble moments of realization that God is with us, and will help us, and to whom we really put our trust.

Such events in life's journeys are singular moments that we need to treasure. These Divine encounters are the treasures that make our life rich and meaningful. We are born into a world and gifted a name. But our name is empty. It is the significant moments of life, the great ups and downs, that fill this empty name and make it meaningful--that is, make our life full of meaning.

We hold on to this meaning. We cling to this meaning. This defines our life. This defines our name. And it is this meaning that we share to others, for them to find their own meaning.

And so, we must continue telling stories.... our own stories that make our life meaningful.


       Image: Jacob's Dream by Spanish painter Jusepe de Ribera, art completed in 1639.

When the student is ready, the teacher arrives

Sunday Reflection: 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)
(Ez 2:2-5 / 2 Cor 12:7-10 / Mk 6:1-6) 

The first time I heard of the Oriental saying, "When the student is ready, the teacher arrives", the first thought that came to me was that, a teacher can never be late. I thought it was about the teacher having the discretion as to when he or she would arrive to begin class. But then, I started to think again...

The saying is not about the teacher. It's about the student. It's about the student attaining to a sufficient level of readiness to engage oneself in the learning process to be facilitated by the teacher.

In a way, one can also say, when the community is ready, the prophet arrives. Unless the community has attained the right disposition for the preaching of the prophet, unless the people of the community have opened their minds and hearts to the words of the prophet, the prophet, the spokesperson of God, can never evangelize fully to the community.

Therein lies the difficulty in being a teacher or prophet. After all the hard work in preparation, after all the commitment and passion for ministry, a prophet's hands are tied--so to speak--by the chains of the community's readiness to listen to him.

In the Gospel reading (Mk 6:1-6), Jesus returned to his hometown. It was a very risky move. He only left it, a few years before. Yet, in the places where he has been, there were only praise and admiration that followed him, and also remarkable news of healing and accounts of driving out demons from the possessed. In a short span of time he has attained the status of celebrity among townsfolk everywhere, and notoriety among the Pharisees and other religious leaders.

And now, he decides to return to his hometown at the head of a group of disciples. When Sabbath came and he began to teach in the synagogue, how was he received by his own townspeople?

They said, “Where did this man get all this? 
What kind of wisdom has been given him? 
What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands! 
Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary,
and the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? 
And are not his sisters here with us?” 
And they took offense at him. 

Following all the questions of the people, the last sentence summarized what they were feeling inside, what they truly had in their hearts--they took offense at him. They were offended, annoyed and resentful that a person, a commoner, someone of their equal, or perhaps they even thought someone beneath their level, would dare preach to them with such lofty and wise words. Yes, they took offense at him. For them, Jesus is not a notch above them. He is just one of them--came from them, among them--and hence, has no right to be a teacher, a prophet to them.

Jesus would have loved that his own people would benefit much from what wisdom he has to share. Jesus would have loved that his own people would share in the great things that the Almighty can work through him, the miracles, the healings, the great deeds he has done everywhere else. But the gift he offers to them is refused. He as a prophet to them is refused. The wise counsels are refused.... all because the people would rather close their ears to his preaching. All because the townsfolk would rather close their eyes to the wonders he makes. All because they would rather close their hearts to the presence of God in the person before them.

Amidst the many things that he can do to them,  Jesus felt powerless.... because of the people's lack of faith in him, the people's lack of trust in him.

He was amazed at their lack of faith.

Perhaps the teacher has yet to come, because I am not yet ready as a student? Perhaps the prophet hasn't arrived yet, because we, as a community, are not yet disposed to his preaching? Perhaps God is still in wait to encounter us, because we haven't prepared ourselves to encounter his greatness.... greatness already present in our midst?