Homilies

“And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” Luke 2: 19 “Ang lahat ng bagay na ito ay tinandaan ni Maria at pinagdili-dili sa kanyang puso.” Lucas 2:19 Let us take our cue from Mary as we keep all these things of 2022 and reflect on them in our hearts. I ask you to consider three points: to remember the past, to hope for the future, and to commit to the present. TO REMEMBER THE PAST. First, let us ask ourselves: What have been our high and low moments for the past year? Perhaps, I can select one or two high and low moments? Are there things that I am grateful for? Can I be grateful for both high and low moments in my life? Personally, I’m very grateful that I am still alive having survived a bout with covid19. I am very grateful for having privileged access to vaccines, proper health care, and nutrition. We know that many of our people do not have the same privileged access. I look back and see how we struggled as a nation to cope with the pandemic given the inadequate government health and economic responses thus resulting in debilitating effects on people’s lives and livelihoods especially the poor. We struggled with all the typhoons and calamities that struck our nation. Like many others, I struggled with the disappointing and frustrating election outcomes as well as with the unspeakable conduct of many politicians in the campaign. These outcomes have challenged many of us to reflect even more critically of the state of our nation—the inequality, the polarization, the disinformation, the violence, and the corruption. At times, I felt a sense of despair and hopelessness. And yet, like many others I resisted giving in to the temptation to despair but chose to struggle on, to seek for the common good, to hold on to hope amid the darkness. I continued to believe that there is a lot of good in the world. One has only to recall the thousands of unheralded and selfless heroes of the pandemic who gave of themselves and even of their lives to us. TO HOPE FOR THE FUTURE. Second, as I reflect on both the high and low moments of my life and our nation, can I reflect in my heart whether there is still hope within me. In the Philippines we face seemingly insurmountable challenges—high inflation and high prices of basic commodities, low peso, stagnant wages, ongoing pandemic, precariousness of health and education, corruption, violence, political dynasties, the return to autocratic rule, and an uncertain future as a nation. We look beyond our shores to Myanmar, Ukraine, and war-torn Africa to acknowledge the grave challenges that the entire world faces. Can we honestly say we still look to the future with hope? Why should we? Is this not a false sense of hope? The recent SWS survey says that 95% are hopeful for the coming year. What kind of hope are they hanging on to? Jayeel Cornelio in his article on the Sociology of Hope says, “While hope can bolster people’s morale, it can also be deployed to protect the interests of the powerful. And so we need to ask the following questions: What exactly do Filipinos mean when they say they are hopeful? What are they hoping for? And why? … Given the inequality in this country, there’s not much worth celebrating whenever we say we are a hopeful people. On the contrary, hope is a symptom of systemic problems that have left so many desiring of the benefits of progress that only few of us get to enjoy.” We must, therefore, examine and ensure that our hope is truly Christian hope. Christian hope anchored in God’s promise which he has already fulfilled in the coming of his Beloved Son. And as the prologue of John which we heard at Christmas day and again on the last day of the year, we rejoice at this wonderful news, “And the Word became flesh, and made his dwelling among us.” He is Emmanuel—God with us. He became one of us in the flesh that he we may never again feel that our God is distant and far away from us—our concerns, needs, anxieties, frustrations, and suffering. His life, death, and resurrection assure us of the ultimate triumph of good over sin and death. TO COMMIT TO THE PRESENT. Thirdly, with this Christian hope we commit to the present moment. This is Christian hope which is 1) not passive and 2) not left to the task of any one individual or one group. Hope is not passive or inactive but pro-active and transformative. The philosopher, Hannah Arendt, believed that hope is rooted in the human capacity for action. For her, only humans are capable of action with intention and purpose. Moreover, as one prominent theologian said, “Hope is courage.” And who would best exemplify this hope for us? According to Fr. Danny Pilario, in his Christmas reflection, it is the victims of the war on drugs who are the prophets of hope for us today. He says, “I can still vividly remember what Lola Remy, (now in her 90s) said during the funeral of her son, Juan. He was killed brutally by the police in Duterte’s War on Drugs and left her seven small grandchildren. She told me with tears in her eyes: “Nais nila kaming patayin Father. Nais nila kaming mamatay. Pero hindi. Mabubuhay kami.” (They want us to die, Father, they want us dead. No, we will live). This is defiant hope. And this is the only Christmas message that is meaningful in our times.” Christian hope is DEFIANT HOPE. It can be and must be transformative of the current harsh realities of life and it looks forward to new beginnings of respect for human dignity and the rule of law. The victims from present and past regimes need to continue their struggle for justice and we are morally obligated to walk with

“And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” You must have some ribbons from gifts you have received. You may wish to take one and wrap it around your hand. Bind the thing around your fingers to get a feel of how it is to be swaddled by strips of fabric. An infant in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger is the sign given to us of our Savior who is born for us, who is “Christ and Lord.” It is a strange sign of the One who is supposed to save us. He will be swaddled or bound again at his death. The strips of linen that are left in the empty tomb will be our sign of hope and redemption. Swaddled is also what we are. Bound is who we are, bound by strips of worries and concerns these days. We have been praying for this pandemic to end, and for the violence in Ukraine and in other parts of the world to cease. Time and again, we seem to have tangled ourselves in knots, unable to untie our lives from miseries we alone have brought upon ourselves. We swing from one crisis to the next. The cry of the poor and of the earth are stifled. To be swaddled or bound this way is hardly a sign of hope or redemption. And yet we are told by the angel to turn to the child swaddled in cloth, swaddled against the cold, lying in a manger. There is warmth to be felt beneath the layers. There is warmth for us who have been walking in the cold, walking in darkness, wrapped in guilt or shame or sorrow. Turning to the One all swaddled in warmth, we find deliverance in the child’s being bound to us for good. We find solace in knowing that God is not cold but warm to the touch, and his love is enough cover from the cold outside. When we turn to the child in a manger, we also discover our own warmth again. We too are warm inside, beneath all the layers. For all the fallen choices we have made, for all the coldness we are capable of, there is still goodness to be found in our heart. There is light for us who have been dwelling “in the land of gloom,” bound by fear or anxiety or despair. Turning to the child all swaddled in warmth, we find freedom when we offer the warmth of us to those in need. We find joy in knowing that God continues to warm to us, choosing to see the goodness of our heart. To the shepherds in the fields, the swaddled infant in a manger must have been a strange sight. In one tradition1, the practice is to prepare the first newborn lamb for Passover sacrifice by swaddling it and placing it in a feeding trough, a manger. When we turn to the child swaddled in cloth, lying in a manger, we realize that the Christmas story is at once a joyful and glorious and sorrowful mystery. The belen has the likeness of an offertory. The swaddling is for warmth as it is for sacrifice. The warmth is in the sacrifice that is offered in love. It is this sacrifice of love that gives warmth to our lives. As the child is swaddled for sacrifice, so too are we asked to prepare for a life of sacrifice. Sacrum facere. We are called to make things holy, to offer ourselves in holiness and love. The wood of the manger is the wood of the cross. As we are meant to make a loving oblation of our lives, so are we to anoint each other and our world with the love of God. The next time you wrap or open your gift, take a moment to hold the ribbons in your hand. Remember the child swaddled in ribbons of linen, lying in a manger. Whisper a simple prayer. Remember to return your life to God who has given everything to keep you warm and set you free.   Fr. Jose Ramon T Villarin, SJ Homily delivered on Christmas Eve Mass Cenacle Retreat House 24 Dec 2022 1https://catholicism.org/what-are-swaddling-clothes-and-what-is-their-significance.html

Which is more important to stress: the ordinariness of Mary or her being special? Jesuit historian John O’Malley tells us during the Vatican II council that a big debate on this matter was whether or not the Church should have a separate document on Mary.  Our very own Cardinal Santos, Archbishop of Manila, led in campaigning for a separate document outside of the Church document to highlight the special character of Mary.  We see this developed in the Marian doctrines.  Her being the Mother of God, Immaculate Conception, perpetual virginity and assumption into heaven reveal that she was no ordinary person.  Others wanted a document on our Lady within Lumen Gentium, the dogmatic constitution on the Church, to highlight her role in the Church, she being the first disciple, the first to learn from Jesus, her humanity, her faith amid uncertainties, her fears, the typical biblical Mary who struggles in her faith journey.  After intense deliberations, the Council Fathers decided not to put Mary above or outside of the Church, but within the Church as Mother of the Church, a pre-eminent member of the Church, a model of the Church while maintaining her unique role in the history of salvation. As we celebrate the Immaculate Conception of Mary, her stainless conception, which incidentally is also found in the Qur’an, we see her fullness of grace as the angel Gabriel puts it in the Gospel: “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.”  Indeed, she is full of grace from the moment of her conception. The Lord is with her from the time she was conceived.  With her fullness of grace and the presence of the Lord in her life, sin has no power over her.  Still, she remains to be human, with her fears and even imperfections, but she has no compulsion to sin from the first moment of her life.  This is as far as I can describe her Immaculate Conception while not getting distracted by the notion of original sin as transmitted all the way from the first parents and to her ancestors, and finally to Joaquim and Anne, her parents. Thus, in celebrating this great feast, we reaffirm her grace-filled life, the abiding presence of God in her life.  It is not so much the greatness of Mary that we celebrate this feast, but the graciousness of God.  Her Immaculate Conception will always be linked to Mary’s fiat, her “yes” to God’s invitation, her Magnificat, her humanity, her capacity to embrace the ambiguities and mysteries surrounding the life of Jesus from the annunciation of his conception to the proclamation of his resurrection, her faith journey which is Spirit-led, her role in the work of human liberation – all made possible due to God’s favor on her. Mary is so special, no doubt, and yet so ordinary at the same time. She is absolutely one with God, but also completely one like us, and one with us. Fr. Tony Moreno, SJ Homily delivered on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Our Lady Cenacle Retreat House 08 December 2022

            The other night, I was astounded to see Maria Ressa appear on the Late Show w/ Stephen Colbert. Then yesterday morning, she appeared on NPR news with veteran journalist Judy Woodruff! How to Stand Up to a Dictator, the book she’d written, was the topic of conversation. I was transfixed on Maria Ressa just as Colbert & Woodruff were. Maria’s message was as simple, true, & eloquent as it was scary: (a) dictators bully whistle-blowers, & (b) they do so w/ big help from social media. “Free speech stifles free speech,” she said. That’s her short hand for how we’ve spewed lies all over Facebook so we can choke undesirable facts & dark history behind bad leaders we support & love. Maria’s message to America: “if this happened to us, it will also happen to you.” Her prophecy came true in 2021, when Trump supporters stormed their Capitol on January 6.             If Zechariah lived long enough to see his son, his only son, his one beloved son, turn into this camel-hair-wearing, locust-eating, desert-wandering preacher he was, natuwa kaya si Mang Kario, o nag-face-palm? “This is myson!” Gano’n kaya? Or more like, “This is my son?!” Sisters & brothers, Zechariah was priest of the Temple. He knew the Law by heart & lived accordingly: dignified, dutiful, pure. Lalo na siya. Kasi sa matagal na panahon, wala siyang anak. Malamang may alingasngas ‘yon. Priest of the Temple but childless? Walang tagapagmana ng lahi ng tatay kasi baog ang asawa? Yikes. Maybe that was why it took very long before the draw-lots fell upon Zechariah for his turn in the Holy of Holies. “Kasi may sumpa ang Diyos. Walang anak,” bulong siguro ng mga paring Marites. Well, now, he had John! Zechariah must’ve single-handedly taught him everything he knew about the Law, by word & by witness. I bet he groomed John to be Temple priest, too. Jewish sons often inherited their fathers’ professions. Lalo na kung iisa lang anak mo. Lalo na kung pari ka sa Templo…. Pero paglaki ni Juan: he wore no priestly robes, ate nothing but honey & locusts, was never recorded being anywhere near the Temple. Worst of all, he fulminated against the hierarchs, mga kauri ng tatay niya!             A few weeks ago, I had a brief but very stirring conversation about John the Baptist with a bishop I admire the most these past few years. Since our conversation, I’ve been contemplating John the Baptist more earnestly than I ever did before. I imagine John growing up seeing the glories of Temple priesthood, as well as its dark underbelly. His dad must’ve taken pains in shielding him from the latter, kasi baka ma-discourage sa pagiging pari. But John was too astute not to see & question what hierarchs dissimulated: like their lavish lifestyle, or the stealing of sacrificial animals, na imbis na sunugin sa Templo, inuuwi para ulamin ng pamilya, or their manipulating & equivocating theology to legitimize their thriving Temple negosyo. And maybe, just maybe, I imagine, John must’ve seen how his father was marginalized by his fellows, no matter how flatly his old man denied it.            No wonder John swore off Temple priesthood when he grew up. And he showed this by what he did not wear, what he did not eat, & where he did not preach. Instead, he went around baptizing people of their sins, making straight the Law that hierarchs bent out of shape. But he was sure that what he was doing was only for starters. “Because Israel, beloved Israel,” you could almost hear John say, “You won’t know what’ll hit you when the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world finally comes to finish what I’ve begun,” decisive, comprehensive, if painful reform of Israel, beginning w/ aiming his axe right at the root of Temple hierarchy.             Paid FB trolls may call for unity from their Secretlab Titan gaming chairs. Politicians may fight for the poor from the backseat of their Super Grandias. Clerics & professors may compose their homilies & lessons on ministry & mission while sipping an espresso by a window overlooking a piazza. But John the Baptist then & Maria Ressa today, they stand up to systematic bullies from the same ground where the bullied like themselves have fallen. They have transparent but humble vision instead of concealed but rapacious ambition. They testify & witness while they suffer, instead of flatter & massage for promotion. While hierarchs have shiny tiles & soft carpets underfoot, John & Maria have a dagger hanging over their heads. In other words, their credibility & witness are particularly powerful because they do not preach from comfort. Rather, they teach from lived & shared reality that is dangerous. Because of this, their modesty isn’t cultivated. Their slogans aren’t sappy. And their nationalism isn’t disingenuous.             As we read more about John the Baptist these coming days, we remember that real heroes give their lives to something bigger than themselves. Pretend heroes, on the other hand, sell themselves into being the biggest something in life. Real heroes act. Wannabe’s just pander.             May we never lose the spirit of protest in our lives. May the gentle Lamb of God be our courage to stand up to systematic bullies.   Homily of Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ on the 2nd Sunday of Advent 3 December 2022 Cenacle Retreat House