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General, Homilies, Soul Food, Updates and Activities

A permanent & unshakable character of God – Santo Niño

Homily from Fr. Arnel Aquino S.J. on January 20, 2018, Feast of Sto. Niño, Holy Child Jesus, at the Cenacle Retreat House. On the 1st week of the new year, I went home to Davao to visit with my dad for a week. One day, I decided to walk from the Jesuit Residence to San Pedro Cathedral. My mom used to love hearing mass there. The church is a good walk, around 2.5, 3 km from the JesRes. So walk I did, one Sunday afternoon, to catch the 5:30 Cebuano mass. Just 5 minutes into my walk, a little girl, about 1/3 of my height, broke into my direction, walking a few paces in front of me. From the way the little girl walked—which was really more of an “advanced toddle”—she must’ve been around 4 years old. She was in rags, too, so easily a street urchin, but cute as button like all kids her age—curly hair, fat cheeks, feet like little pandesals! And, my God, she was going at a good clip, because as I kept my pace, I wasn’t gaining on her. Ten minutes in, the little girl was still walking, no sign of stopping or turning back; no sign of anyone coming to meet her. So it struck me silly to realize this child was really alone! And she & I were the only ones going my direction at the time. Or maybe I didn’t notice the others because I was busy being roped in to watch over the little girl. Ten minutes in, she was still walking. For a 4-yr-old, that’s a pretty long time & a pretty long way. I very strongly felt the urge to catch up with her & assume full responsibility, but I didn’t, because I was so curious to find out (a) where she was headed all by her lonesome, & (b) why there wasn’t a hint of “lost-ness” or fear or panic in her at all. On the contrary, she looked like she knew exactly what she was doing & where she was headed. “Still,” said my superego, “she’s just a 4-year-old kid, are you blind?” Before I knew it, she had gone off the sidewalk, crossed the street, & disappeared into a crowd on the other side. Minutes later, I couldn’t concentrate on the mass. I swore I’d probably have never lived it down if news the next day said “4-year-old girl found dead on C.M. Recto St.” When you see a child—especially one who “looks” alone, or “seems” alone—the first question in your head is: “Sinong magulang ng batang ito?” Why? Because if we think “sea” & immediately think water, if we think desert & immediately think dry, if we think “breathe” & immediately think air—when we think & see a child, we immediately think relationship, relatedness. That’s why there’s nothing sadder than an orphaned child, or a foundling. Deep in all human hearts, a child must never be alone. A child immeidately calls forth relationship, relatedness, connection. This is the first reason why I think the feast of the Santo Niño is important in our faith, sisters & brothers. The Santo Niño is the “infant-God,” the “child-God” who reminds us of a permanent & unshakable character of God which we often forget or take for granted: that immediately & once & for all, God is related to us, immediately & once & for all, connected to us, in a relationship with us, as his free choice, out of his free love. I wish to emphasize this, dear sisters & brothers, because many of us do not often think of God as immediately & once & for all related to us, in a relationship with us, loving us. Our default is often an image of God “above” us, isolated in all his power, like a benevolent overlord, a patient  prefect of discipline, a quiet moral policeman—all of which are “official” terms but hardly relational terms. That’s why we need the feast of the Santo Niño, & quite desperately so. It’s the infant-God’s way of reminding us who he is in his very essence: a God who is freely, immediately, & once & for all related to us, connected to us, in a relationship with us. If we take that seriously, it should make many of us turn a corner in our faith & religiosity. And just like it’s unnerving to see a 4-year-old child walking alone, it should unnerve us if we’ve always believed that God, to be God, should be asunder from us. Because, you & I know that he never is. No, not even when we sin. God never disconnects even if we do. You’ve also heard it said many times that the Christ-child reminds us of how deeply, vulnerably human Jesus was. Allow me to add a little something to that. When I saw the vulnerable little girl that Sunday afternoon, she made me feel vulnerable. Even if she & I were related in no way, shape, or form—her being just a child on a sidewalk straightaway roped me in, to assume some way, shape, or form of responsibility over her. Unbeknownst to her, she committed me to a very basic connection, a fundamental responsibility. Suddenly, I was disturbed by the challenge to care, to go beyond my comfort zone, to change direction; all of which I did not do that afternoon, because, shame on me, I was “running late”,  headed on a straight path to, of all places, church. That’s the 2nd reason I realized why the feast of the Santo Niño is important to us, dear sisters & brothers. Not only is an “infant-God” immediately & once & for all related to us—that relationship must make us feel vulnerable enough so that we do our part in it: to assume responsibility over it, to care for even the most fundamental connection, to push beyond our comfort zones or even change direction if needed…& in my case, vulnerable enough to feel deeply terrible if we don’t,

General, Homilies, Soul Food, Updates and Activities

What is your wish this season?

Homily from Fr. Mario Francisco, S.J. on January 1, 2018, Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God, at the Cenacle Retreat House.   I pose what may seem an unlikely question to each of you, from the youngest in body to the young at heart: What is your wish this season? I ask this because this season makes sense only for those who wish. It could be anything from the priced/ prized—like a housedress with a euro pricetag (no names) to what an old Mastercard ad calls that which is priceless . Our usual measure of joy this season is the match between what we wish for and what we receive, between promise and fulfilment. Thus we count our blessings – heartfelt laughter with family and friends, health in body and spirit, broken hearts mended and hurts forgiven, fruitful ministries, generosity for those in need. We have indeed much to be joyful about . But what gives if wish and gift, promise and fulfilment do not match? I suppose you remember one gift you wished for but did not get. That unfulfilled wish could sow seeds of disappointment and blame at those we call “walang isang salita” —first at Santa Claus and then when we’ re older, parents. This broken promise could multiply hidden in our selves, and grow from tampo or mahay into resentment and anger, hitting at close targets, like those around us or at long-range, at life in general. Thus the world becomes a garden overgrown with broken vows, painful secrets , campaign promises , bullying posts and fake news weeded backyard where words betray and stifle. Does this season’ s meaning vanish into thin air for those of us left with empty words in this earth—patch outside Eden? We know that God comes to us at this season , not as Santa Claus, not as the All-Powerfu1 and the All-Wealthy but as Word, the Word spoken by the Father. He spoke before through others – prophets, holy women and men of Israel – but now, he gives us his Word—the only Word more solid than anything in the universe, because it is not thin air but made visible, made flesh and this Word’s promise never broken. As we say, “Ang kanyang pangako’y hindi kailanman mapapako [His promise will not be nailed and remain just a promise] ” although we know too that this Word would be nailed on the cross as fulfilment of his promise . My dear friends, with this singular gift to us of God’s only-begotten Word made solid in the flesh in Jesus, human words, our very words, though flimsy and fragile , gain weight, because Jesus spoke with these same words to family and followers, to the suffering and the powerful, to little children and to his heavenly Father. Let us then echo his voice and speak to each other, face to face or in digital space, with words of truthfulness and fidelity of generosity and compassion . This season we have great reason to be joyful. We express thanks for countless gifts and fulfilled wishes . But more than wish fulfilment and most of all, we sing our gratitude for the unbroken promise of God’ s Word made flesh and for the worth and weight that it gives our own fumbling words to each other .

Homilies, Soul Food, Updates and Activities

Parable of the talents

Homily from Fr. Arnel Aquino, S.J. on November 19, 2017, 33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time, at the Cenacle Retreat House. Just a few days ago, I had a conversation with a young guidance counselor. He works in an exclusive school for kids from wealthy families. These families own whole industries that earn millions by the day. The young man is assigned to eight- and  nine-year-old boys in the school. That’s hardly the demographic from which kids would be marched off to the guidance counselor, right? I mean, what were you and I doing when we were eight or nine? Mostly playing, right? What were we thinking about? I don’t know, our next weekend at the beach? Playing with the neighbor’s kids? Sesame Street? Well, this young guidance counselor will have us know that times have changed. In his first year of work in this school, he has already had to confront the reality of suicide…by eight- and nine- year-olds; suicide ideations and suicide attempts. Just several days ago, he had to do an intervention with a third-grade kid who attempted to take his own life by jumping off a building. And that’s only one grade level. The young man’s fellow counselors in the other levels, they’ve had to deal with the same problem: very rich, very innocent children, angelic!—suffering deep angst that you and I didn’t feel until we were teenagers agonizing over our pimples. Hearing it anew from the young man still shocked me. But part of me shouldn’t really have been surprised. I had heard confessions in the same school twice. At both times, nine out of 10 boys either yearned for their parent’s love—especially their fathers’—or hated their parents because they were never there for them. It was a story I’ve heard many times over. The rich parents give them everything they ask for, everything; the usual remedy of the super-rich that alleviates parental guilt over absenteeism. “Since we can’t be there for our child very much, oh, we’ll buy him everything he asks for; we can afford it. We hope that his comfortable life will show him that mommy and daddy care for him very much. What else could he ask for? He has everything!” So, every day, many boys from expensive schools get chauffeured home to their high-rise apartments where yaya waits for them, and they play with well-groomed dogs. Oh, I’m not derogating yayas and dogs. I bet many of these kids receive more love from them than from the people who should be loving them the most. Otherwise, why would many such kids even think of jumping off a building at age eight or nine? Take good care of what the master has entrusted to you. That’s the most fundamental lesson Jesus wants us to remember from the parable of the talents. We often understand talents as smarts, know-how, aptitudes, skills; and they may very well be these, and they all come from God, sure. We often forget, though, that the talents entrusted to us by our Master must be directed towards people, the gift of people; people who rely on our smarts, know-how, skills; people who look up to us as their “true north,” who depend on us for their making or their breaking. Talents are God-given and God-driven. They are therefore always “intentional,” meaning, they are intended for an “other.” They are bestowed in order to eventually benefit another. The final and most important beneficiary of our giftedness are people; no, not the multi-million-peso business, not the self-indulgent hobbies, not the hipster-cyclist social image. No matter how much money we make, when people who need most our presence go orphaned, or worse, go self-destructive, then whatever nest we feather, whatever image we buff, they’re as worthless as money buried in a hole on the ground, dead as our hearts. In a poor people’s hospital in Davao stands a tiny public school run by sisters. A few years ago, a sister showed me around. The students were poor children suffering from very serious motor nerve diseases. So, they were all lying down on benches. Oh, nothing was wrong with their thinking. They could think as clearly as you and I. But their bodies were all bent out of shape, their hands were hooked inwards, their knees were folded up to their chests. Sister walked me over to an 11-year-old boy. Like his classmates, he was all curled up in a ball. “He’s an artist, Father. He paints and draws with his mouth. He’s really good.” Well, maybe Sister was just being kind, I thought. Then, Sister started helping herself with a worn-out school-bag sitting beside the bench, and took out an art notebook. She opened to page one. “Look, Father, his drawings.” And I was shocked. It was a drawing of a woman’s face, rendered in colored pencil. With its lines & shading, its colors & depth of detail, you’d never believe the portrait was by a boy who had absolutely no use for his arms and hands. “All this with his mouth, sister?” Sister nodded. By the time I got to page six, I think my jaw was already around where my ankles were! I couldn’t even draw a lousy apple to save my life. But this kid—he penciled faces, water-colored seascapes, crayoned trees—all with his mouth, while lying down on his side. “I want to do some more, Father,” he said in Cebuano, “so I could sell them and help mama and my sister.” His sister was also there, by the way, two benches down, equally disabled by motor nerve disease. Their Mama was there every day. She’d sell a few bunches of kangkong, just enough to buy kanin and ulam for the three of them. “Even if I’m this way, Father,” the boy said, “I know God gave me this talent so I could help mama sell more kangkong and help my sister finish school.” How could someone who, in the eyes of the world, was entrusted with so little still give so much? But see, that intentionality of giftedness, that

Homilies, Soul Food

Power

Homily by Fr. Joel Liwanag, S.J. on October 22, 2017, 29th Sunday of Ordinary Time, at the Cenacle Retreat House. Have you ever been asked a trick question? Have you ever been pushed into a difficult situation wherein, as they say, you were damned if you do, damned if you don’t? How did you manage to escape from such trap? In today’s Gospel, Jesus is pushed into such a situation. Those who wished to bring him down, after giving their empty praises, asked him a seemingly simple question: “Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?” To be able to understand why it was a trick question, it is important to keep in mind the socio-political context of Israel then. At that time, the Israelites were under Roman occupation. If Jesus answered “yes” to the question, saying that it was lawful to pay taxes to the Roman Emperor, he could have easily been accused of disloyalty, of being a traitor to his own people. He would have then earned the ire of his fellow Israelites, who considered the Roman rule as a form of oppression. If, however, he answered “no” to the question, saying that it was unlawful to pay taxes to Caesar, he could have been accused of sedition, of disobedience to the Roman law. He could have then been reported to the Roman authorities. Being in this difficult situation, Jesus uses his wit and turns the table around. He tells his detractors to take out a coin, and asks them whose image they see in the coin. When he is told that it is Caesar’s, he tells them, “Then give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and give to God what belongs to God.” In Jesus’ cryptic answer he does not only escape from the trap that has been set for him. Through it we also get an insight into his perspective about human power. First, when he says, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar,” Jesus seems to give his implicit recognition of the legitimacy of human power. He acknowledges the reality that since we human beings live in community, we are subject to a social order, and part of this social order is having leaders who exercise their authority for the sake of the group. When used correctly, such power can bring forth much good. In today’s first reading, we meet one such leader who brought forth much good to Israel. His name is Cyrus, king of Persia. Under King Cyrus, we see the end of a painful era in Israel’s history, the Babylonian exile. Under his reign, Israel is allowed to go back to their homeland and rebuild their temple. Indeed, he is one good example of a leader who exercised his authority for the good of the community. I invite you now to remember some of the exemplary leaders we’ve had, in our world, in our country, in our community. How did they exercise their power? What good did they do for their constituents? How did they help those who were subject to their authority? Bringing this closer to our own personal experience, perhaps we can also ask ourselves the same questions. We who are leaders in our own little way, in our workplaces, in institutions, in organizations, and even in our own families, how do we exercise our authority? How do we exercise our leadership? Are we able to bring forth good for those who depend on our leadership? Secondly, apart from the recognition of human power, another lesson we learn from today’s Gospel has to do with the limits of this power. After saying “give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar,” Jesus adds, “and give to God what belongs to God.” In a way, Jesus is making an important reminder. Yes, human leaders exercise authority, but in their exercise of such authority, they must not forget that they are not God. The problem with some leaders that we have is that they think they are God. They see themselves as the ultimate power, no longer dependent on the power of God. This is a dangerous frame of mind. This way of thinking is what makes cruel dictators, heartless monarchs, abusive leaders. When Jesus says “give to God what is God,” it is His way of saying, “recognize God as the supreme authority,” for indeed, there is nothing that does not belong to God. Everything that we have, everything that we possess, everything that we enjoy – all these belong to God. Yes, even the power exercised by human leaders, belongs to God. Such authority is only entrusted to those who have been called to hold it. This is the message we hear in today’s first reading. Going back to King Cyrus, we know that He is not a believer. And yet, listen to what the Lord God tells him: “I have called you by your name, giving you a title, though you knew me not. I am the Lord and there is no other, there is no God besides me. It is I who arm you, though you know me not….” Indeed, we should not let human power get into our heads. We have to constantly remind ourselves that such power is only entrusted to us. It does not belong to us. Ultimately, it belongs to the Lord, He who has supreme authority over all. To end, perhaps we can reflect on the mistakes we’ve made in exercising power. Have there been moments when, in our exercise of leadership, we acted as if we were God, forgetting that we are not? In what ways have we abused the power that God has entrusted to us? In what ways have we misused the authority that has been given to us? Jesus tells us, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar. Give to God what belongs to God.” Yes, we have to recognize the authority of human power, but we must not forget that such power is always in the

Homilies, Soul Food

“Yes, I will”

Homily by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, at the Cenacle Retreat House on the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The Gospel is from Matthew 21: 28-32. On my first week as a newly ordained priest, a man stopped by Sacred Heart School in Cebu where I was assigned, and asked if he could confess. So, I sat with this very earnest, very gentle man and listened. “Father,” he started, “there’s one thing in the past 12 years I’ve long wanted to do: to receive the body of Christ again. I’ve been separated for 12 years, and I know there’s a rule against people like me, so I’ve kept myself away from communion since. I go to mass every day though.” His wife had left him for another man after just four years of marriage. He himself had met another woman since, with whom he was now living and had a child. They all went to church every Sunday. But their daughter was the only one who would line up for communion because mom and dad took it upon themselves to, well, keep away, according to the rule…even if they’d been wanting to share of the Body of Christ, truly, deeply, longingly all these years. This man had always believed without a shred of a doubt, that Christ’s body was his source of inspiration and healing and strength all his life. If you were there to hear him talk, sisters and brothers, you would realize he would not have come to confession if he were not sincere. Because he was. It was unmistakable. He did get around to confessing his sins. But it was more a confession of a long-standing wish, the granting of which he well knew he didn’t deserve; at least according to the rule, because he was a separated man. I gave the gentleman absolution. I also gave him the Body of Christ after that. I thought I had already understood his hunger for the Eucharist, until he broke down in big, loud, cathartic, heaving sobs upon receiving Christ’s body. I had no idea. He missed the Lord more than I could fathom. What greater faith could I ask to be shown, seeing someone long for the Lord so powerfully like that? So, his deep faith made me question my faith: When was the last time I longed for God like this? Never. The one verse that played over and over in my head all that day long was that there would be more rejoicing in heaven over one repentant sinner than over 99 righteous who think they have no need of repentance. Pope Francis’ message in Amoris Laetitia is very clear, but only if priests care to read it carefully, receptively, and intelligently. I hope I did. Because after I read it, the most crucial message I heard in my crazy Jesuit head was twofold. “Arnel,” Pope Francis seemed to say, “Be very careful to not lump together in one basket all the divorced and the separated and the cohabiting, and think of all of them as self-driven enemies of God and of the church.” And you know, in my work as a priest and confessor, that is so true. I have met divorced, separated, and cohabiting people who have sincerely set aright their ways, even if they can no longer change their past wrongs. Should I keep using the past wrong as the sole criterion to doubt their present goodness? If we priests do that, then we are no better than the Pharisees, Jesus’ pet peeves. They regarded as impure and disgusting to God anyone and everyone who wasn’t pure like they were, pure in their sense of the word, according to their standards, and to their construal of the law. Secondly, the Pope seemed to say, “Count how many times I wrote the word ‘discern’ and ‘discernment’ in that document: that priests must carefully ‘discern each situation,’ that ‘special discernment is indispensable for the care of the divorced, separated, abandoned;’ that these situations require ‘careful discernment and respectful accompaniment.’” 44 times. In other words, nowhere did the Pope imply or even order that all priests must all the time give communion to all the divorced, separated, and cohabiting, regardless of the circumstances. No. We are to carefully listen to people, accompany them, discern with them—in the spirit of compassion and mercy. Because not all the divorced, separated, and cohabiting are the monsters that many churchmen far too easily judge them to be. But I have met a few who really reject the faith and even mock God and the church. So, yes, there are separated, divorced people like that who couldn’t care less about God or church or decency, because they want to have their cake and eat it, too. Yet, there are others who did say “no” to God at some point in their lives, but they’ve since gone back to the vineyard, to work with the Father—like the first son in today’s gospel. But how will priests know, if we antemanothrow all of them into one basket, and then keep sterile distance from them? On the other hand, for all we know, some people we do give communion to,  they may well be legitimately wedded and living together, but have become cruel or apathetic to each other, in a marriage that is lawful, but loveless. Wouldn’t that be the second son in today’s parable—who said “yes, I will,” or as marriage would go, “yes, I do,”—but did nothing more? “’Which of the two did his father’s will?’ Jesus asked them. They answered, ‘The first.’ ‘Amen, I say to you, tax collectors & prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you.’” Then we protest this as in the first reading, “The Lord’s way is not fair!” “Listen, Israel,” the Lord says. “Is it my way that is unfair, or yours?” I end with a quote in Amoris Laetitia. The Pope says, “I sincerely believe that Jesus wants a Church that’s attentive to the goodness which

Homilies, Soul Food

Fixer

*Homily given by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ at the Cenacle Retreat House on the Feast of the Transfiguration 2017.  We had a Himig Heswita concert in Tokyo over 2 weeks ago. Out of the 6 singers who were supposed to sing, only 2 made it. The other 4 didn’t get their visas on time. It wasn’t really their fault. Last May, our very well-meaning secretary volunteered to do the run-around for the visas. But then, things got very busy in the office. So what he did was—he entrusted all their papers to a very good friend whose mother knew her way around travel agencies. But, long story short, our secretary’s friend sat on the papers. The documents never reached his mom. Worse, he charged my friends outrageous fees for this, that, & the other, inventing “requirements” w/c they later found out were bogus. In the end, no visa. So, imagine: Sakura Hall, Shibuya Cultural Center, famous for classical concerts, a huge place. But instead of 6 singers promised, only 2 came. We had to convince to sing with us 1 of the organizers there who sang in a church-choir, & he agreed. But imagine all the re-adjustments of solo parts, the 3-part harmonies coming to naught, the last-minute rehearsals. Everything hung on a thread all because of a fixer. Fixers don’t care for anyone other than themselves, do they? Or anything other than your money. A very good friend used to work with government. I remember him saying, “Mula sa mga clerk sa front desk na nagpapa-pedicure o kumakain ng maruya during office hours, pataas hanggang sa mga boss na walang ginagawa, the whole system is just crawling with ineptitude & corruption.” I guess that’s why we have fixers. We part with good money on them because we can’t be bothered by long lines & waiting & rudeness. It’s not entirely our fault, after all, that government gets a pedicure & eats maruya & goes on junkets while we wait in line. In a bizarre & annoying kind of way, fixers “save” us, like “saviors” of some kind. But then again, maybe this is why our country has never seen a transfiguration—the way South Korea, Thailand, Japan have gone through thoroughgoing transfiguration. We’ve relied too much on fixers to do the dirty work for us, & expedite our cause; & from the passion & suffering of it all, to spare us. Allow me to go into catechism mode for a while. We Christians understand the Lord’s Transfiguration in 3 ways. First, in the bible, the mountain is a privileged place where God & human persons meet. But this time on Mt Tabor, Jesus is the privileged point, our bridge to our God. Secondly, in the Transfiguration, God’s confirms & affirms that Jesus is not only the Messiah prophesied, represented here by Moses & Elijah. God also confirms & affirms that Jesus is most importantly, his beloved Son. Lastly, the Transfiguration previews & anticipates the Resurrection. So, gloriousness & majesty; that’s what we read in the Transfiguration, a mysterium tremendum et fascinosum, a mystery that terrifies us yet fascinates us, as it did Peter who said, “Wow, let’s just stay up here!” No, Jesus says. Baliktad. You don’t get to the glory by leaving the struggle. You stay with the struggle & leave the glorifying to God. So, despite his stature as our bridge to God, the fulfillment of all prophecies, the beloved Son who will rise again—Jesus has had to climb down Mt. Tabor. He’s had to resume being our “fixer”—fixing our ills & disabilities, our demons & our despair. Worst, a real part of that descent will be an ascent…but to a cross. But see, Jesus entrusts none of these to fixers. He will have none of these expedited…not if he really wants humanity to be transfigured into the image & likeness of God. Because isn’t that the reason why God sends us the Messiah: to transfigure us all into his image & likeness? Dear sisters & brothers, the image & likeness of God is not all glory & majesty. Jesus is the image & likeness of the Father. If we are to be transfigured into that image & likeness, then we will have to reckon with being a picture of pain for the sake of a good cause, being a picture of despair over thanklessness, a picture of sorrow when people we love don’t & won’t love us back the same way. So the image & likeness of a glorious, majestic God includes an image & likeness of a suffering Messiah. It’s like a watermark, this image of a suffering God. It floats beneath the much bolder ink of God’s glory & majesty. Jesus has had to go through the long & arduous way towards the Resurrection. Only then is he finally & irreversibly transfigured. No short-cuts, no excuses, no fixers. And then there are these incredibly wealthy parents who give their children everything they ask for to compensate for their constant absence. Money as fixer of an ailing family—no transfiguration, walang pagbabago. And then there’s the man who promptly goes to confession to get absolution, but never apologizing to people he hurts & harms. A sacrament as fixer of sin—no transfiguration, walang pagbabago. And the terror professor who delights in flunking students, but passes a high-pointer varsity player who hardly shows up for class. Favoritism as fixer of school victory—no transfiguration. And what about the men who kill & kill & kill again. Bullets as fixers of society—no transfiguration, surprise, surprise. Walang pagbabago. But then there’s the alcoholic who finally surrenders himself to a laborious rehab…& the weary couple who are on the via dolorosa of marriage therapy…& OFW’s who soldier on through loneliness & slavery…& the cancer-stricken wife & mom who never loses faith in God & keeps serving her family & her church even when she feels her very strength leaking out & away day by day…. there, sisters & brothers, there happens the

General, Homilies, Soul Food

God’s freebies

Homily of Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, on the Fourth Sunday of Lent 2017 at the Cenacle Retreat House, Quezon City. Fr. Joe Roche was our professor in the theology of Grace, oh, 500 years ago. Most of you are familiar with the teaching method back in the day. Straight lecture, exposition of concepts & terms, arguments, counter-arguments. Very informative, if anything, but pretty much cut & dried. But there was this one rare morning when Fr. Joe stopped lecturing & broke into a story. “There were two orphan girls—a teen-ager & her 7-year-old sister. They begged on the street all day, everyday. And on their way home, they’d often stop by a small store that sold little knick-knacks. Big sister always had her eye on a small bracelet of fancy stones. After a bit, they’d go on home. Then came the birthday of big sister, during which they still begged out on the street. On their way home, they stopped by the store again & just when big sister was about to admire the bracelet, it was gone. She was crestfallen & went home sad. When they got home, little sister fished something out of her pocket, something wrapped with scrap paper, & gave it to her big sister—happy birthday. When big sister opened it, it was the bracelet. Little sister thought big sister would be happy. Instead, she said, ‘How did you get this? You stole this. You stole this from that store! Don’t you remember what mother told us before she died? That we should never steal? You little thief!” And she dragged her crying little sister to the store to return the bracelet. The little one couldn’t get a word in edgewise no matter how she tried. In the store, big sister put the bracelet on the counter & started apologizing profusely to the clerk. The clerk shook his head as she tried to explain & apologize, explain & apologize; whereupon, little sister just ran out of the store, sat on the sidewalk & buried her face in her little hands. After big sister stopped talking, the clerk looked at her in the eye & sternly said, ‘Your little sister did not steal this bracelet, young lady. She bought it & gave everything she had.’” Apparently, little sister had been saving a little bit every day for many days, so she could buy her sister a birthday present. Whereas everybody noticed that the man blind from birth could now see, nobody appreciated it. Instead, every person he turned to said he should not be seeing. “You were blind from birth, how could you see now?” “You were healed on the Sabbath, when healing is forbidden.” “Whoever healed you is a sinful man, as sinful as you are.” Even the poor guy’s parents wanted nothing to do with him because they were afraid of “the law.” So, there was something beautiful that happened that day: a poor beggar, blind from birth, received the gift he must’ve dreamed of all his life. But what he got was a scolding all around, because he wasn’t supposed to receive that gift. It was all wrong. He should’ve stayed blind because (a) he didn’t deserve the gift of sight for being a sinner, & (b) the day he received it outlawed it. Magagalit ang Diyos, they all seemed to say. Magagalit ang Diyos. “But I could see,” you could almost hear the man whimper. “Hindi. Magagalit ang Diyos.” Spit & dust…that was all it took to heal the man blind from birth; two virtually worthless stuff, spit & dust; free, no charge—but resulting into a dream come true. Libre, walang bayad! But as it happens, dear sisters & brothers, we are often scared of divine gratuity. When God gives us a freebie, especially an extravagant freebie, & turns “spit & dust” into, say, a “favorite bracelet” or the gift of light & a dream come true—we go grateful but we get nervous. Underneath our gratitude quivers an anxiety: “Hmm, ano kaya ang hihingin ng Diyos bilang kapalit? What’s the catch?” Because we figure, it must written somewhere that when God waxes magnanimous, we better be ready for what he’s going to ask for in return. If you think about it, this no-such-thing-as-free-lunch, this is really what rules human freebies, isn’t it? It forms part of how relate with each other. What has happened, though, is we’ve transmuted it to God. So just as we become anxious when someone is terribly magnanimous to us, so, too, do we second-guess what God’s generosity might be all about, because sooner or later, he’d be sending a bill. And if we don’t pay the bill, magagalit ang Diyos. Magagalit ang Diyos.  Divine gratuity terrifies us, doesn’t it? Even if we see more than enough signs that God gives us pretty much everything that we need—our life’s “favorite bracelets”, so to speak, our dreams-come-true, healing from our suffering, safety for our family, unrelenting forgiveness—even when barely deserve half of it all—something about divine gratuity terrifies us. “But I can see,” the man blind from birth tells us. “From worthless spit & dust, the Lord has made shining light for me!” But something in our hearts somehow says, “No. Magagalit ang Diyos. No.” For what is left of Lent, dear sisters & brothers, let us pray to God to really open our eyes so we could really appreciate divine gratuity, God’s extravagant freebies. Let us pray in such a way that we really get God’s message that might go something like this: “Anak, did it ever occur to you that I give you what you need—& much, much more besides—because I love you & that’s it? Because I love you. I love all of you. Libre. Walang bayad.” God really gives us his everything, sisters & brothers. Jesus, our Lord, was everything to God. So God gave us no less than his everything.

Homilies, Soul Food

Don’t cross

Homily of Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, on the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, at the Cenacle Retreat House. Under normal circumstances, a right-handed person could slap somebody’s right cheek, but only if it’s a back-handed slap. Try & imagine it. Back in the Lord’s day, a back-handed slap was what superiors gave subordinates. Masters backhand-slapped slaves, for instance; commanders slapped centurions that way; & as it also happened, Romans back-hand-slapped Jews. Now, what did Jesus say must a person do in such a case? “Turn the other cheek.” Now to turn the other cheek means to stand up to the aggressor & challenge him to, this time, strike you with a front-handed slap—meaning, to strike you not as a subordinate, but as an equal. Interesting, isn’t it? When you’re slapped as an equal, your aggressor better be ready to take whatever might come right back at him. But I should hasten to say that turning the other cheek did not mean measure for measure retaliation either. Turning the other cheek was a dignified protest against injustice. By freely offering the other cheek, one valiantly affirms one’s dignified status while also exposing the aggressor’s contemptible beastliness. So, see, sisters & brothers, the point to turning the other cheek was not to acquiesce to abasement or abuse. That was never the Jesus ethic. He never allowed himself to be abased. But it did entail heroic, even stately self-discipline in the face of a presumptuous & bestial aggressor. By Roman law, Roman officers & centurions could command Jewish civilians to carry their gear, but only for one mile. There were sanctions if an officer abused this privilege. The rule itself was preposterous, of course. It served to only stress Jewish servility to the Romans. So Jesus said, if someone orders you to carry his gear for one mile, keep walking with it for longer—go another mile! Let’s see if the officer doesn’t get into trouble with the law & be de-merited for it. So you see, walking another mile did not mean being passive in the face of dishonor. It was a clever way of handling injustice. The funniest is the third. Jewish law entitled a creditor (usually rich) to confiscate the tunic of a debtor (usually poor) when the debtor was unable to pay in cash. Again, it was a pretty ruthless law that favored the rich. Now Jesus said, if a creditor goes to court to sue you for your tunic, give him your cloak, too. Well, these two pieces of clothing were about the only pieces of clothing poor peasants wore. So to give both tunic & cloak to the creditor meant to strip naked…in court. The public nudity would then bring shame on the unforgiving creditor. A pretty clever way of handling mercilessness! Jesus never taught abasement. He never meant for his followers to passively swallow cruelty & insult, & say, “This is what I, your Lord & your God, suffered through, so do the same. I want you, especially you Filipinos, I want your spirituality to be only Good Friday spirituality.” Well no. Submitting to cruelty does not make one holy. It makes one a dishrag & that’s an insult to God who created us with dignity. Secondly, our passivity emboldens the oppressor to sin, to sin even more, & to remain in sin. So allowing the sin to be committed on us makes us, strangely enough, accessory to the sin. But on the other hand, Jesus doesn’t want us to do eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth either. To make full use of our educated brains, our competent faculties, our gospel-informed will especially in the face of grievance, that’s what he wants us to do—to engage our whole person, in other words, & not just our bruised egos or our wounded hearts. That’s why we must also expose the injustice mindfully, & stand up for what is true, but as much as we can, to not sin; not even if we cannot help being angry… …Because there is fair anger, there is righteous anger. But then, there’s is also consuming anger, vengeful anger, rage. I’ve felt it in myself & seen it in other people, that dwelling on anger & feeding anger & soaking in anger—it really damages us more than the persons we happen to hate. Our rage might burn our “enemies”, sure; but only so far. Our rage burns us further & deeper. It makes us ugly. I’ve met people, priests included, who clearly feel very gratified when venting rage—whether physically, verbally, or, as Filipinos usually do, passive-aggressively (silent treatment is the favorite Filipino passive aggression, isn’t it?) And I’ve noticed that when we taste sweetness when venting rage, then poison has leaked into our hearts, into our souls. The poison of rage tricks us into thinking how powerful & intelligent & superior we are! But that’s just an illusion. It’s the poison that’s begun to ruin us & make us ugly. We have symbols of this in literature—people who confuse power with consuming anger, & have since been disfigured by the poison: Gollum & Saruman, Lord of the Rings; Emperor Palpatine & Darth Vader, Star Wars; Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter; the Joker, Batman, & all the rest. I’m sure you also know real people “uglified” by rage, but we won’t mention names. Baka matukhang tayo. “Anger is an acid that does more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.” Well said, Mark Twain.   I’m very sure there were times when Jesus himself came terribly close to the line that parted righteous anger & rage. But he didn’t cross it. That’s why he tells us today: “Don’t. Don’t cross it. Take a deep breath…many deep breaths, because this is the kind of ‘cross’ you should not do.” We are fortunate to belong to a faith where we believe that: “The Lord is kind & merciful, slow to anger & abounding in kindness.

General, Homilies, Jubilee, Soul Food

When Jesus sees the depths our heart

Homily by Fr. Ritchie Genilo, SJ, on the Thursday before Epiphany, at the Cenacle Retreat House, Quezon City. The Gospel is from John 1 :43-51. In our gospel reading we read about how Nathanael became one of the apostles of Jesus. Many scholars believe that the apostle Bartholomew that we read in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, is the same person as the apostle Nathanael that we read today in the gospel of John. In our gospel story, Philip, a friend of Nathanael, had been called by Jesus to follow him as an apostle. Philip was so excited about meeting Jesus that he went to tell his friend Nathanael that he has found the long awaited Messiah. What was the reaction of Nathanael to the news of Philip? Nathanael said, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Why was this the reaction of Nathanael? There was nothing in the Old Testament which foretold that God’s Chosen One should come from Nazareth.  Nazareth was an ordinary town.  Nathanael himself came from another town in Galilee, which was Cana. In those days, there would be rivalries between towns. Nathanael’s reaction was to declare that Nazareth was not the kind of place that will produce anything good. Nathanael was putting down Jesus because of his bias against the town of Nazareth. But Philip did not argue with Nathanael about his bias. Philip simply said to Nathanael.  “Come and see!” So Nathanael came; and when Jesus saw him, Jesus saw into his heart. Jesus recognized in Nathanael a simplicity and innocence that will make him a good apostle. Even if Nathanael had a bias against Nazareth, Jesus praised Nathanael by calling him a genuine Israelite, a man in whose heart there is no guile. Jesus. Nathanael was surprised that a person like Jesus who came from Nazareth could praise him like that even if it was the first time they met. Nathanael asked how Jesus could possibly know him.  Jesus told him that he had already seen him under the fig-tree.  What is the significance of that? The fig-tree was leafy and shady tree and it was the custom to sit and meditate under its branches.  Probably was what Nathanael had been doing; and no doubt as he sat under the fig-tree he had prayed for the day when God’s Chosen One should come.  No doubt he had been meditating on the promises of God. And now he felt that Jesus had seen into the very depths of his heart. It was not so much that Jesus had seen him under the fig-tree that surprised Nathanael; it was the fact that Jesus had read the thoughts of his inmost heart.  Nathanael said to himself: “Here is the man who understands my dreams!  Here is the man who knows my prayers!  Here is the man who has seen into my most intimate and secret longings, longings which I have never even dared put into words!  Here is the man who can understand my soul!  This must be God’s promised anointed one and no other.”  Nathanael immediately believed in Jesus because Jesus was the only one who could read, understand and satisfy his heart. What can we learn about the story of the call of Nathanael or St. Bartholomew? First, we should not be ashamed or embarrassed to tell our friends about Jesus. In the same way that Philip became the instrument for Nathanael to come and see Jesus we should also be ready to share Jesus with the people who are close to us. Sharing Jesus with the people we care about is the best gift we can give to our friends. Second, we are challenged to go beyond our prejudices and biases against other people and try to see Christ also present in people who are different from us. We should also be ready to recognize the goodness present in other people even if these people are against us. Jesus recognized the goodness of Nathanael despite the biases he had against Nazareth. And Nathanael allowed Jesus to break through his pride and his prejudices and opened himself to the Good News that Jesus brings. Lastly, we should always turn to Jesus as the only one who can read, understand and satisfy our hearts. Jesus understands our dreams and hopes, our sadness and fears, and the deepest desires of our hearts. It is only in Jesus can our souls find rest and true happiness. At the end of the gospel, Jesus quotes the old story of Jacob at Bethel who had seen the golden ladder leading up to heaven (Gen.28:12-13). It was as if Jesus said: “Nathanael, I can do far more than read your heart.  I can be for you and for all persons the way, the ladder that leads to heaven.”  It is through Jesus and Jesus alone that our souls can mount the ladder which leads to heaven. May we be inspired by the story of Nathanael or St. Bartholomew, that we have a friend in Jesus who can truly see and understand our souls and lead us to our heavenly home. Image from the internet.

Homilies, Soul Food

Heavens Deep

Homily by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ. Christmas Eve 2016. Cenacle Retreat House.   As a child, I used to love the Christmas tree. But the older I got, the parol very naturally supplanted the tree, & became for me the symbol for Christmas; especially the simpler ones, the parol ribbed with kawayan, skinned with papel de hapon or cellophane, & with the flowing buntot reminiscent of Bulacan pastillas, na sa tuwing hinihipan ng hangin, lumalagaslas na parang mga dahon! The fabulous Christmas tree sits in a designated place in our homes. The parol, however, it hangs outside, mostly alone. But to me, it hangs with quiet splendor, watching over us. The tree is mostly Scandinavian & doesn’t bring you back to Bethlehem. The parol is truly ours, truly Pinoy; & the star will forever beam memories back to the 1st Christmas. The last time I saw a dust storm of stars was in Culion, Palawan, 26 years ago. Every night, they turned off all the generators on the island at 10. Then the stars almost suddenly come out to play, wide-eyed & sparkling. The darker the island, the brighter the stars. Iniisip ko nga, sana madala ninyo ang mga bata sa kung saan kaunti pa lang ang ilaw, para malaman nila kung ano talaga ang sinasabing “starry, starry night.” For hundreds of years, travelers charted their journeys according to the stars. In fact, the word “dis-aster” comes from the Latin which literally means to lose one’s star, to drift from your star-charted course, or to be ill-starred. And for hundreds of years, people have divined the future by the stars, which is why we have the Horoscope or astrology, the “logic” of the stars. Today, we know that stars are really suns, each with a solar system. So a star actually holds together a rosary of planets that float nicely together, yet also nicely apart. In a sense, stars fasten the universe in cosmic stasis. Today, however, many stars seem to have vanished because there’s just too much light that outshines them in the cities. But, oh, they’re still there. They’ve been there far, far longer than humans. In fact, many stars we see today are the very same stars our ancestors also beheld. Can you imagine? Long after humanity blows itself out, the stars will remain in the same quiet magnificence; God proving to us yet again that true beauty is heavens deep. Our humble parol reminds us Christmas after Christmas that we have one such star, the one true Star, in fact. And it’s not Ate Guy, the superstar, the star for all seasons, Ate Vi, nor megastar Ate Shawie. True to his mission, our one true Star persistently shows us, travellers, the way…even if we deliberately lose our Star sometimes when we we’re drawn by the glare of our own accomplishments, our blazing ego, our blinding control issues. Secondly, our humble parol reminds us that it’s not how our stars are fixed that sways our fortune. The fault does not lie in our stars, sisters & brothers. No, it’s how we arrange our lives according to the one true Star that governs our future. I have yet to meet anyone whose life changed for the better because he consulted his horoscope daily. I do know that many of us here, we’ve discovered our deepest sense of purpose because, though we fail many times, we still try to chart our course according to the movement of the Star of Bethlehem. Thirdly, many times unbeknownst to us, our one true Star persists in holding humanity in mysterious equilibrium. Humanity left to itself, we would alter the laws of gravity & make ourselves the center. Our Star, however, has the steady hands of the divine & holds us with loving care. Sisters & brothers, don’t you feel that now, more than ever, we need our Star desperately? In tonight’s readings, Isaiah & Paul could very well have been talking about us: “a people who walk in darkness,” a people who frantically need “to see the great light,” waiting for God’s glory “to deliver us from all lawlessness.” Marami na pong nagtanong sa akin, “Father, what are we going to do? We must do something!” At nahihiya po ako dahil hindi ko po alam ang sagot. Matagal na pong lumipas ‘yung mga panahon na ang pari may sagot sa lahat ng bagay. Like you, I’m staggering in the dark for an answer. There’s so much I don’t know, so much I no longer know, & honestly, there are things that I don’t want to know. What I do know very well is that if your way is violence in word & deed, then you cannot be the way. You do not know the way. And if you’re constantly smoldering with anger & resentment & vendetta, & are even proud of it, then you are light-years away from the truth. And if your idea of brightening up the future is snuffing out human life & bringing back men who have once already darkened our history, then you do not bring light, you bring darkness. You are darkness. Surely, it was heartbreaking for Joseph & Mary to have brought Jesus into the world in such harsh conditions, through no fault of theirs. Even the national situation was terrible then. This census that governor Quirinius imposed on Judeans, this was the beginning of the Roman occupation of Judah. Judah was once a kingdom: free, sovereign, & glorious. Now, Judeans were about to devolve into 2nd class citizens in their own land. Who knew what deeper horrors the Romans had in store for them? So, the Messiah is no stranger to darkness, to dictatorship, & to bloodshed—to history repeating itself, in other words. But I’ve always believed that humanity is God’s biography. That’s what God has done in the Incarnation. We are God’s life-story. Niloob ng Diyos na maging kwentong-buhay niya ang kwentong-buhay ng sangkatauhan, kwentong-buhay natin. So even if many times, human history

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