Homilies

After the great feasts of Easter, Ascension and Pentecost, which with Holy Week highlight the key mysteries of our salvation, we had three complementary feasts to round out our sense of the saving God: Trinity Sunday, Corpus Christi and the Sacred Heart. They express the mystery and wonder of God beyond our comprehension, who is still close to us and bound to us in love. Today’s readings continue that theme: a God who is utterly concerned and seeking what works for our good. The Old Testament passage from Exodus is put in terms of Israel’s covenant with God, a somewhat legal sounding relationship where God tells his  people to stay close to him — much as a mother or father would tell a child to hold my hand while we cross the street.” I don’t want harm to come to you.” But even if expressed in legal terms of “listening to my voice and keeping my covenant,” there is God’s reaching out to Israel. They will be “dearer to me that all other people, … a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.” There’s a closeness and valuing. And not simply to leave non-Israelites out. Remember that Israel was ultimately intended to be ‘light of the nations,’ priest-mediators through whom God would reach out to everyone, a vocation that would, by many, be squandered except for Jesus and his Jewish disciples. Romans pushes even more deeply how much God reaches out to us. Beginning with how “the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us,” there follows today’s reading which spells out how not even our sinfulness and unworthiness can get in the way of God’s desire to give us life. “Greater love no one has,” Jesus tells us, “than to lay down his life for friends . . . and you are my friends.” But Romans fills out the picture: sinful friends, whom nobody would die for except a loving Lord, who saves us by his death and life, his cross and resurrection. So we can now boast of this God who through Christ brings us back to himself. The gospel too points in the same direction. Jesus goes about curing every disease and illness, Matthew says, and then today’s reading: “because his heart was moved with pity for them, because they were troubled and abandoned like sheep without a shepherd.” Then he reminds us what ministry in the Church is meant to be: not privilege or power, but labor to let all share God’s harvest. Ordinary people like Peter, James, John, etc., are called to embody God’s concern and care for people starting with Israel (since God remains faithful to his promises to them), but ultimately to “all nations.” Certainly, a theme that Pope Francis has urged over and over- inclusiveness, leaving nobody out of the picture. So let us give thanks that this is the way God is constantly inviting us to share grace upon grace, concerned about us, not casting us off when we go astray but reaching out more lovingly to bring us home. And as we “boast” in this Lord, we want to be reminded of our vocations to be extensions of God’s love and kindness wherever we find ourselves. “Without cost you have received,” Jesus tells his apostles; “without cost you are to give.” Let us continue to be very much aware of what we have received, and ever more ready to be givers and sharers of that same love and concern that the Lord extends to us.   Homily delivered by Fr. William (Bill) Abbott, SJ 17 June 2023 Anticipated Sunday Mass Cenacle Retreat House

There is a line in the acts of the apostles in Pentecost about the devout Jews. “Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven staying in Jerusalem.” – Acts 2:5 The Greek word for “devout” (eulabḗs) refers to a person who clings to the good once it is known, and as it is known. It suggests a certain being circumspect or cautious of what is in the world because not everything is good. But once the good is known, that person will take hold of that good carefully and surely. That is what devout means: a person who is a searcher of the good and who clings to the good, redefines one’s life totally according to the call and demand of the good. In yesterday’s homily on the Feast of the Cenacle, Fr Roger Champoux spoke about entering the realm of the sacred, of sanctification, and of consecration; of allowing oneself to be possessed by and oriented towards the loving and tender embrace of the Good, and the good God. Here, we find an echo on this in the Jews gathered in Jerusalem who are described as “devout.” They are those who are already predisposed towards the good, and have oriented their entire lives towards the good God. Devotedness is this inner predisposition by which the Spirit can more fully enter into us further bless us. In the narrative of Pentecost in Acts 2, there is ambiguity and ambivalence in that not everyone heard the message of the apostles in their own language. Others heard only drunken speech. Why this then disparity and difference in Pentecost? I believe that it was only to the devout Jews coming from all parts of the lived world of that time that the gift of interpretation was also given by the Spirit. Their being devout open up the way for them to also receive the Spirit’s gift of interpretation by which the devout Jews were enabled to accurately and intelligibly hear and understand in their own native tongue what was otherwise heard as drunken speech by the non-devout crowd in Jerusalem. In the New Testament, the Greek word for “interpret” (dierméneuó) means to explain things thoroughly, completely or fully, and accurately: it is the same word used to describe what the risen Jesus did in explaining the Scriptures to the disciples on the road to Emmaus. It is this gift of interpretation, this further gift of the Spirit to the already devout Jews of that time, that also helps us today to discern truth amid the ambivalence, ambiguity and confusion of a noisy world. The gift of interpretation renders clear and intelligible the matter of discernment to devout persons who sincerely seek and fundamentally orient their lives towards goodness in whatever form it is discovered and encountered in the world. With the Spirit’s gift of interpretation, confusion is transformed into clarity. Devout that we are, let us more proactively await and pray for this grace of interpreting the signs of the times and the movement of the Spirit that may be initially heard as the noise of the world. Let us pray for this gift of interpretation so that we can understand more clearly what the Spirit is saying to us and to churches. May the Spirit further guide us, unfold for us, and translate for us God’s unique message for us and for the world today. Finally, the Gospel today says that “Jesus breathed on them” (John 20:22). The Greek word for the breathing action used here (emphysáō) occurs only once throughout the New Testament, and it is the same word also used in the Greek Old Testament in the creation story when God breathed life into the human being. This word correlates to another Greek word for breath (pneuma): “Receive the Holy Spirit” (pneuma). “Spirit” means “breath”. Our invitation today is simply to stand before the Lord our Creator and allow ourselves to receive the breath of Christ which is the Spirit. This relates to what Fr Roger in yesterday’s homily said about the foundress’ (Thérèse Couderc’s) spirituality of “se livrer”: that is, to deliver or entrust oneself totally to the Lord, to allow one’s life to be totally defined, shaped and oriented anew by the breath of Christ, that is the Holy Spirit, the Holy Breath. In a way, it is difficult because it involves a radical dying to self when we define our lives according to our own terms, or in conformity to the standards of the world. Pentecost calls us to simply let go and simply stand before the Lord and open ourselves widely to the coming of Spirit. To simply stand and be open: that is why the foundress also says that “se livre” is the easiest thing to do. To simply stand and be open to God’s work in us, to be most docile and malleable to the freedom of the Spirit in shaping our lives and directions in life, to allow ourselves to be completely redefined and reshaped by the Spirit: Ikaw bahala, Lord. Se livre. And so in this mass on the Solemnity of Pentecost, let us pray for the three graces of the Spirit: the gift of devotedness; the gift of interpretation; and the gift of “se livrer” Homily delivered by Fr. Oliver Dy, SJ 28 May 2023 | Solemnity of Pentecost Cenacle Retreat House    

“It is I. Do not be afraid.” They say that the phrase “do not be afraid” occurs 365 times in the Bible. Fear and relief are important emotions in our lives. As I read this, I remembered a moment when I was terrified. The fear I felt at the time was the fear of meaninglessness. I live, study and strive to live a better life. There are many things we need to work on. To make friends, have relationships, take tests, and learn, and we succeed and fail. I experienced joy, frustration, and failure. But basically I didn’t know why I was living. I thought at the time, “If I knew why I live, I would be happy even though if have to die after five minutes. On the contrary, if I live without knowing why I live, even if I lived 60 or 70, my life would be no different than that of dogs and cats.” I pleaded an unbelieving God, and he came to visit me. You may ask, how do you know if the experience is God’s experience or a fantasy done by yourself in your imagination? There is no explanation or proof of that. But I know. I believe that He was God. I hoped to be lifelong friends with Jesus, who came to me in a moment of fear. I believed that one day I would find the answer if I continue the friendship with Jesus. So I decided to become a Christian. Fears, crises, and difficulties are situations and emotions that we want to avoid. It throws us into darkness and separates us from everything. It’s an emotion we want to avoid. But it is also a blessed time to meet the invisible God, as in today’s Gospel (John 6:16-21) and in my experience of God. Perhaps the moment God chooses to reveal Himself may be felt as fear, crisis, and darkness to us. The question is whether we close our eyes and turn away from it, or whether we call upon God who awaits us beyond. In other words, what kind of faith we have in such darkness determines our lives. May we continue to seek God today, no matter what the circumstances may be. “It is I. Do not be afraid.”   Homily delivered by Fr John Chong, SJ 22 April 2023 | Saturday in the 2nd week of Easter Cenacle Retreat House

Tonight, we wish to reflect on this point, that grace proves victorious every step of the way of Jesus’ passion and death as grace proves victorious at the moment of his resurrection. There is only one theme throughout the Paschal mystery, there is no victory after defeat, there is only the victory of grace, the victory  of divine love throughout the narrative. Jesus could have allowed evil to triumph, Jesus could have allowed himself to be defeated by the forces of evil. How so? By retracting his statements when he sensed that the religious authorities were conniving to have him arrested and executed. Jesus could have kept mum. Jesus could have kept silent. Jesus could have stopped rocking the boat, provoking the pharisees, the religious leaders. Jesus could have even opted to go back home to Nazareth and justify abandoning his ministry by saying, “I need to care for my aging mother, Mary, the widow, with me, her only son.” In such a manner, Jesus would have allowed the forces to overcome him and to thwart the salvific plans of God. Instead, Jesus manifests, every step of his passion and death, the triumph of divine love. And this is most evident on the cross, when Jesus in the throes of death rocked by pain, begs the Father to forgive them for they know not what they do. Instead of begging the Father to spare him from further suffering; instead of asking the father to rescue and redeem him, Jesus is still thinking about the welfare of others. Jesus asks his father, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” – most likely referring to the roman soldiers who were simply performing their tasks of crucifying convicted criminals. “Father, forgive them, they do not know who I am. They are simply fulfilling their duties.” “Father forgive them, our religious authorities. They are monotheists, who believe in one God, you, our lone God Creator. It is beyond their comprehension and imagination how I could share in your divinity. They have waged wars against polytheistic nations, against peoples worshipping baals, they have been faithful to you – worshipping you alone. And thus,  they have been blind to my divine identity.  Forgive them, for they do not comprehend your mysterious ways.” “Father, forgive them,” perhaps Jesus referred too to his own friends. Our deepest hurst are often caused by those dearest to us. Yes, we are hurt by strangers, by acquaintances but not as deeply, as family members, as friends, as community members, our deepest hurts are caused by the people dearest to us. And therefore, Jesus’ deepest hurt was caused by his disciples who abandoned him when push came to shove, who deserted him upon his arrest in the garden of Gethsemani. And yet, Jesus, instead of begging the Father to redeem him, Jesus turned his gaze upon all those who participated in his crucifixion. Instead of wallowing in self misery, instead in being self absorbed about his own pain and suffering, Jesus begged the Father to forgive all of them. Here we see the victory of love. The victory of grace that has transcended betrayal, false accusations, unjust conviction and on the cross. Jesus assures the other thief who repents, “Today, you will enter paradise with me.” Jesus again, is thinking about the others, his co-crucified and upon his resurrection. As he is raised from the grave and from the dead, Jesus appears to his disciples and declares, “Peace be with you my friends”.  His last memory of them was not at the Cenacle, the upper room, where they celebrated the passover meal. His last recollection of them was their betrayal of him, their desertion of Jesus, abandonment of their master. That was his last memory of them. And yet, when he appears on them, there is no recrimination, there is no, “How could you? Sa kabila ng aking nagawa para sa inyo.” There was no demand for restitution, for begging for forgiveness, before he offered his hand in friendship. There was only the graciousness of God in Jesus calling them, who had deserted him, “my friends”. And therefore, every step of the way of the cross – manifested not the triumph of the evil in human hearts but the triumph of divine love and grace. Similarly, grace can triumph in our lives amidst our suffering and pain despite being betrayed, despite being alienated, despite being maligned. We experience the power of love not only when our names are restored, not only when those who betray us ask for our forgiveness, not only when we are vindicated but every step of the way, of our own cross, of our own calvary. Grace proves victorious when despite having been betrayed, I opt to forgive my friends. Grace proves victorious when despite being maligned by others I choose not to speak ill of them. Grace proves victorious when amidst the proliferation of fake news, I still speak the truth, despite the possibility of persecution. Grace proves victorious when amidst a culture of impunity and corruption, we choose to be women and men of integrity. And so, in and through our own suffering and pain, our kalbaryo sa buhay,  grace can prove victorious when we do not give in to the forces of frustration, nepotism, cynicism, skepticism, hopelessness  and despair. When we choose to give despite not being appreciated, being under-appreciated. When we choose to befriend even though our love is rejected, when we choose to speak the truth even though we are maligned and persecuted, then grace proves victorious. The triumph of love manifested in the resurrection of Jesus becomes a present reality and let that be our prayer this evening that Jesus will be raised from the dead. Let this be our prayer, that God’s love might triumph through us, not through our own efforts, because we are fragile because we are inconsistent, because we are fearful people. It is only through the grace of the risen Christ, that we are

Today, Good Friday, we are in a waterless place. Death surrounds us. We are afraid and anxious. There is so much going on we are confused. We cannot move. We cannot breathe. We are in Calvary. Today, Good Friday, we see our Lord, fastened on the cross, gasping for air, thirsting for water. The wood of the cross is drenched in his tears and blood. He cannot move. He thirsts for something much more than water. Today, Good Friday, we are in a parched place. In this withered landscape, the heartache is real. The heartache is now as it was then. We thirst for something much more than water. We may turn to different things to slake our thirst. But when it comes to our deepest desires, our thirst is not much different from each other. We thirst for answers. We want to know. We want to understand life itself, why life should begin at all and why it must end, why we are here. We want to know if there is a purpose for our being in this universe, or if our existence is just some fluke of nature. We want to be understood. We long to be loved, to love, to be forgiven and to forgive. We thirst for some assurance that we have not been abandoned, that we are not alone. We thirst to know why our thirst itself is never quenched. Why the incompleteness, the vulnerability, the dissatisfaction, the lack of wholeness? With St Augustine, we confess to you O Lord that our hearts will never find rest, until they rest in you. As you have shaped our hearts in the likeness of your own, we will always be wanting and thirsting until our thirst is quenched by your love. Today Good Friday when we hear your cry of thirst on the cross, we see someone so like us we wonder whether we are missing something about the Christ-ness of you, the God-ness of you. When you tell us of your thirst, we only see someone as empty and wanting as we are, and we wonder how someone so beloved of God could run out of water. The One who turned water into wine, who walked on water, who calmed the angry waves, how can he now run out of water? We wonder where life is watered in the withering fire of this day. We ask where love might grow in this parched place. We hang on to the words of the prophet Isaiah sent to us like the dewfall in this desert. And yet ours were the sufferings he bore, ours the sorrows he carried. But we, we thought of him as someone punished, struck by God, and brought low. Yet he was pierced through for our faults, crushed for our sins. On him lies a punishment that brings us peace, and through his wounds we are healed. Today Good Friday, in this waterless place, we seek shelter in the shade of your cross. Please help us to believe that in your thirst our longings are somehow quenched. By the restlessness of your soul we find peace. And by your thirst for something much more than water, we are healed. Homily delivered on Good Friday Fr. Jose Ramon T Villarin SJ The Cenacle 7 April 2023

A big word in the passion narrative is tenderness. First, Judas was still welcomed at the Last Supper. He was not excluded.  He participated in the meal, and took the morsel given to him.  This is Jesus’ supreme act of tenderness.  Human nature being what it is discourages us to have meals with people who hurt us the most.  We don’t share a meal with people we don’t like or people who are not like us. Second, we see Jesus’ tenderness with his disciples who were sleeping at the garden of Gethsemane.  No trace of anger and impatience.  This pattern of sloth and indifference we see also in the transfiguration.  They are just full of inertia, and yet Jesus accepts them as they are, but challenges them to stay awake and vigilant. Third, the look of love that is portrayed in Luke’s account of Peter’s denial the third time.  The Lord simply “turned and looked at Peter” as if to say to him, “I told you so.”  Franco Zeffirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth captures beautifully this scene, the look of love of Jesus.  No judgment, no condemnation, no exclusion, but always looking at him with compassion and tenderness. Fourth, Jesus’ boundless forgiveness is so radical: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.”  This is the sort of forgiveness that does not wait for an apology. Even if they are not remorseful and contrite, Jesus asks forgiveness on their behalf because they don’t even know what sin is like. A final expression of Jesus’ profound tenderness is the exchange between Jesus and the repentant criminal who was crucified with him.  The criminal says: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  To that, he says: “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Jesus’ tenderness is life-giving, giving people a chance to live and be at peace.  Imagine Jesus saying the same words to us, at the hour of our death or even long before death. In 2017, Pope Francis said in a TED talk that we need a revolution of tenderness.  For him, tenderness is “to use our eyes to see the other, our ears to hear the other, to listen to the children, the poor, those who are afraid of the future.  To listen also to the silent cry of our common home, of our sick and polluted earth.”  Jesus in the passion narrative certainly shows us what tenderness is all about. Let us not feel sorry for the Lord as he goes through his passion.  Let us not feel bad about ourselves in the face of Jesus’ suffering and death.  Let us not turn away from this terrible pain that Jesus goes through and skip this scene and simply wait for the resurrection.  Rather, let us be with Jesus in these moments of tenderness which are life-giving, and be inspired to become like him. Fr. Tony Moreno, SJ Cenacle Retreat House Palm Sunday 2 April 2023