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Nuggets for the Season

Monday of the Second Week in Lent (February 26, 2018) Jesus said to his disciples: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”     – Luke 6:36-38 ‘Less of Me’ – Glen Campbell. Let me be a little kinder Let me be a little blinder To the faults of those about me Let me praise a little more Let me be when I am weary  Just a little bit more cheery  Think a little more of others  And a little less of me  Let me be a little braver When temptation bids me waver  Let me strive a little harder  To be all that I should be Let me be a little meeker  With the brother that is weaker  Let me think more of my neighbor  And a little less of me Let me be when I am weary  Just a little bit more cheery  Let me serve a little better Those that I am strivin’ for  Let me be a little meeker  With the brother that is weaker  Think a little more of others  And a little less of me  

General, Soul Food, Updates and Activities

Lent – a story of love

 Today is Valentine’s day, and, also, Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Can we really celebrate both together? This is Lent. Lent was the dog of the Filipino sisters who run the Vila Sao Jose Center in Coloane, Macau, where I had my retreat. The sisters adored Lent. He followed them around the four-storey building, accompanied them in their daily chores. Lent’s mother was a stray dog who came to the center everyday because the kind sisters feed her. After a few days of absence she appeared again at their doorstep, this time carrying her newborn, as if entrusting her baby to the sisters’ care. That puppy was Lent, named so because he came to them during Lent. During the Christmas break all the sisters went home to the Philippines leaving Lent with Kuya Dong, their gardener/handyman. One day the sisters got a call from Kuya Dong saying Lent has weakened because he has refused to eat since they left, and that he tried everything to make him eat, but Lent would not budge. After three weeks the sisters went back to Macau, but Lent was no longer there to meet them. They were one day too late. The vet said Lent must have gone into depression thinking that his masters have abandoned him, and then eventually succumbed to cardiac arrest. Lent’s story is a love story. He was loved from the beginning till the end of his life. But, like many great love stories, his met a tragic end. The seemingly somber atmosphere of the season of Lent, however, is not about tragedy. In fact, we know that at the end of this season we celebrate the Feast of all feasts— the victory of Christ over death on Easter Sunday. Then why do we need to go through Lent? This is where Lent’s story has reminded me of these two important things: 1) the need to face and embrace our pain and 2) God is faithful to his promises. Lent loved his masters intensely that he was not able to bear the pain of loneliness of their absence, even when Kuya Dong was there to care for him, he could not be appeased. Had Lent known that his masters never intended to abandon him, and that they would be back soon because they loved him too, had he understood their promise, he would have patiently waited and endured his suffering knowing that the great joy of reuniting with his masters would be his at the end of it. We do not have the mind and heart of a dog. Even when some dogs act more human than many human beings we know, only the human has the Spirit of God been breathed into. If dogs are capable of exhibiting what seems to us as love, how much more are we humans capable of loving— God created us from love, in love and for love. The season of Lent is about trusting this love.  Do we find ourselves trusting God’s love for us?   How often have we doubted our own worth, convinced that we have been abandoned, forgotten , rejected and unloved?  How is it that despite hearing the comforting and affirming words of others, we still could not see beyond our own convictions?   Trusting this love will mean that we beg to hear God’s promise repeated to us: Death is not the end of our story, though we must die first in order for new life to begin. We are able to embrace and endure our pain because we have been loved and we are loved, and that God promised us joy will be ours in the end.   When we persevere in faith amidst our suffering, we allow God to purify us from false loves, so that we may know what real love is. This is also the belief behind sacrifices and self-denial during Lent. May our Lenten observances lead us to deeper faith and trust in God, and an even greater love and solidarity for those who are suffering. May our belief in the Resurrection help us to open our hearts to God’s love for us and to hope in the fulfillment of God’s promises. Jesus, our Master, will never abandon us.     Sr. Yna, Oñate rc Cenacle-Macau

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 .

Features, Soul Food

Advent, according to a Millenial.

Be patient. God is present even in the spaces of waiting.  – Sr Meny, rc.   Among the Advent figures shared to us during the Advent Retreat in the Cenacle, Simeon was the figure who spoke to me significantly. He did not rush God or rush himself. He’s a figure of waiting with “trembling expectation” and lasting hope. He knew who the focus of his life was and this awareness moved him to be vigilant in his waiting. Finally meeting and holding Jesus in his arms was all that mattered. No one else mattered more to Simeon but Jesus! What a reward! As I reflect on the meaning of Christmas as a young professional, and a millennial who is used to a fast-paced society, I begin to ask myself: “Who is Jesus to me — the One whom I wait for? What are my deepest desires? What am I willing to let go or set aside to make time to de-clutter my heart?” A millenial like me longs for someone who can understand and know the depths of my heart even if I dare not utter a single word. I long for someone who can still my restless soul, calm the storm within, as I rush and push hard to meet every deadline. I long for someone who can shed a light of hope to my dampened dreams, give life its meaning and purpose. I long for someone who can fill the emptiness within me that I know this world can never satisfy. Jesus, who Simeon longed and waited for, is the same Jesus whom my heart yearns. This Advent Season invites me again to pause, tarry and ponder so as to ready my heart to welcome Jesus. Advent also gives me the space and capacity to notice less of my concerns but more of the concerns of the very next person in front of me. This will be an opportune time to let others feel that Christmas is real, that Jesus is real. Like Simeon, may they be comforted in knowing that God fulfils His promise, even through us! And we are never alone. Now the waiting will be as exciting as Christmas day itself! O come, Emmanuel+ –  Ria

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

Soul Food

Betrayers

April 12: Wednesday of Holy Week Betrayers   Reading: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Matthew 26:14-25 Scripture: “It would be better for that man if he had never been born.” (Mt 26: 24)   Reflection: In the passion story, Judas and Peter have betrayal in common. Judas betrays Jesus to those who seek to kill him, apparently for no better reason than a handful of coins. Peter betrays himself on the eve of the crucifixion when he denies being Jesus’ follower, apparently for his own safety (Jn 18:17). Peter will repent (Mt 27: 3-4) and accept Jesus’ forgiveness. Judas will repent but he will accept no forgiveness, not even his own. Instead, he will hang himself (Mt 27:5). It is easy to say of him, as Jesus did, “better for that man if he had never been born.” Judas remains forever a mystery. However he began, he ended up a man of contradictions, chosen by Christ, reviled as a thief by John, despised by the authorities who paid for his information, and utterly despairing of himself. We don’t know why Judas’s life took the turns that led him to his end. But we do know his great mistake. During his years as a disciple he missed the most important thing about the Master he had agreed to follow. He may have learned all the right words, but he never learned the Person who spoke them. Jesus expressed frustration with hypocrisy and blindness. He even uttered dramatic woes against the towns that refused to accept him and his message (e.g. Mt 11: 20-24). But he never refused compassion to a repentant sinner. Never. And somehow Judas missed it. Lent offers us an extended time in which to seek what St.Paul calls “the supreme good” of knowing Christ more deeply, more intimately, more truly (see Phil 3:8-9). Whatever we may have done in the way of fasting, prayer, almsgiving, and other good works, the underlying purpose has been to free us of the claustrophobic self so we can plunge into deeper communion with the One who is God’s mercy. Missed it? Don’t worry. Lent, like every other liturgical season, is a rehearsal for all of life. And the invitation to know, and love and live in Christ remains open all year round.   Meditation: How have you come to know Jesus better this Lent? How do you feel called to grow toward knowing and loving him even more deeply in the months to come?   Prayer: Lord Jesus Christ, grant that daily we may see you more clearly, love you more dearly, and follow you more nearly.  

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