Homily

“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

“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