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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.  

Soul Food

Chosen

Daily Reflections for Lent by Sr. Genevieve Glen, OSB; Not by Bread Alone 2017, Liturgical Press: Minnesota April 11: Tuesday of Holy Week Chosen   Reading: Isaiah 49:1-6; John 13:21-33 Scripture: The Lord called me from birth, . . . You are my servant, he said to me, Israel through whom I show my glory.(Is 49:1,3)   Reflection: So accustomed have we become to casting Judas as the ultimate betrayer for selling Jesus out to his enemies that we can overlook the real extent of his betrayal. We know very little about Judas. What we do know comes to us largely from the pen of a biased evangelist who exposes him as a miser and a thief before he ever becomes a traitor. In John’s portrait, Judas is painted in dark colors, with no hint of light, but for balance, we should remember that, whatever his character defects, Judas was born one of God’s chosen people, called by God from birth like all of us, and appointed Jesus’ disciple. So in handing Jesus over to his enemies, Judas betrayed not only his master but also his heritage, his history, and his vocation. His tragedy is not limited to the last act of his personal drama: betrayal and suicide. His tragedy includes a longer story of a person twisted and lost, one who came into the world beloved by his Creator and destined for good but threw it all away. We don’t know the details of that story, but we can heed its warning. We also came into the world beloved by our Creator, chosen and gifted for good we grow into. Along the way, we have our own choices to make, some small, some momentous: Will I choose friends wisely, will I learn, will I take the path God lays out for me, will I do good or ill? And never mind the drama: “good” is not always throwing myself in front of a truck to save a child, and “ill” is not always grabbing for the thirty pieces of silver. Good and ill come in all sizes and shapes, most of them not worthy of mention in the evening news, but all of them vital to the shape our story and our world will take and the ending it will come to.   Meditation: Think back about your life’s crossroads moments. When and why did you choose for “good,” and when for “ill”? How have those choices shaped your life? What choices is God offering you now?   Prayer: O God, Creator and Redeemer, guide us through the crossroads small and great, so that we may truly grow into your faithful servants.  

General, Soul Food

The Heart of Discipleship

Daily Reflections for Lent by Sr. Genevieve Glen, OSB; Not by Bread Alone 2017, Liturgical Press: Minnesota   April 10: Monday of Holy Week The Heart of Discipleship Reading: Isaiah 42:1-7; John 12:1-11   Scripture: Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil. . . . and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair. . . . (John 12:3)   Reflection: Mary of Bethany—Martha and Lazarus’s sister, Jesus’ friend and disciple—reappears in today’s gospel. In Luke’s gospel, written earlier than John’s, she provoked her sister’s ire by choosing to sit at Jesus’ feet like a disciple and listen to him rather than helping with the meal. Now she again flouts convention buy anointing Jesus’ feet with expensive perfumed oil and drying them with her hair. Again she provokes ire, this time from Judas. Ironically, he protests her disregard for Jesus’ teaching about the poor, though he, not she, will prove to be the false disciple. In neither story does Mary utter a word of self-defense, but Jesus defends her in startling terms—in Luke, for choosing the one essential, a listening discipleship; here for expressing her discipleship in an act Jesus deems prophetic. In both cases, Mary goes to the heart of discipleship: the mystery of Jesus himself, in Luke as the Word of God speaking of their midst, now in John as the Anointed One who will die. She annoys her sister Martha by ignoring the precept of hospitality to a guest. She angers Judas by ignoring the poor. Jesus says once again that Mary, disciple to the core, has her priorities right: the person of this Messiah outweighs even his own ethical teaching. There are times, and this is one of them, when the disciple must let Jesus’ teachings fade into the background to focus attention entirely on him and own fully who he really is. And, as Jesus himself will, Mary sets aside all concern for her own good name to do what discipleship bids her because she above all of them has truly understood the Truth he will claim at the Last Supper to be (John 14:6) We live in a doing a world, busy about work of all sorts. As disciples, we do our best to carry out the works of the gospel. But Mary teaches us the core of discipleship: knowing Jesus, the source and definition of all good works. Meditation: What has your focus been this Lent? How has your Lenten penance brought you to know Christ more deeply? Prayer: Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, grant us the grace to recognize you as the source and center of our life as disciples.   (Image from the internet.)

General, Homilies, Soul Food

God’s freebies

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

Jubilee, Soul Food

Road Retreat: A Pilgrimage of the Heart

TRUST At the start of the retreat, we were asked about our expectations. I said that I had no expectations.  I did, however, have a lot of fears and anxiety.  I feared that I was not equipped enough for the trip. I was worried it would rain. I was getting calls left and right about work and I was worried that things would fall apart while I was away.  I was worried about the cold and that I might be miserable during this trip. I wondered how I (and the others) could find the quite to be with God when the road ahead was no walk in the park.   As we gathered at the foot of a mountain to start the trek, we were asked to beg God for these 3 graces: (a) the openness to accept whatever God wants us to experience, (b) the generosity to give of ourselves, and (c) the courage to place ourselves in God’s hand completely.   What was expected to be a 4 hour trek turned out to be a 6 and a half hour trek (about 18 kilometers of walking to the base camp)! It was uphill most of the way.   At the beginning of the trek, I felt the weight of my pack and shortness of breath. I started bracing myself for the long and arduous road ahead.  Sometime into the trek, I felt myself letting go. I told myself that if I did not have what I thought I needed, God would provide it.  God would protect my from harm. Later on, I realized that my initial impression that this trek would not allow me the silence I needed to hear God was wrong. This trek became the best type of activity to make me predisposed to God because here, in the middle of nowhere, I had no option  but to let go and trust God completely.   Along the way, I found the silence I needed to feel God. In this silence, I found a lightness in being and strength to move on. I was even conscious enough to help others and to observe nature. I also noticed how the 10 guides we had were generous in helping many of us.  They would carry the packs of those who found themselves unable to carry their load, hold the hands of those who were scared, assist those who needed to walk though a difficult area, lovingly prepare our food (they even made the simple food look good by arranging  it so beautifully and artfully) and they would cater to everyone’s needs with smiles and open hearts.   We arrived at the base camp at about 5:00pm. We were tired but everyone was in high spirits. Proof of this was the noise at camp.  I was annoyed at the noise at first, but looking back, I realized it was the sound of joy, delight and triumph at being alive.   During our first sharing of the experience trekking to the base camp, I found myself listening to the general sentiment of the group, which I found was my sentiment as well.  There was a collective realization that we were weak.  There was a collective experience of being in the presence of God and surrendering ourselves to Him.  There was a collective appreciation for the generous spirit of the guides who were helping us.  There was a collective and deep realization that we carry too much unnecessary baggage with us and we need to let go of it. It was impossible not to know that God was there with us.   On the second day of the retreat, we were asked to find God in nature by focusing on 1 or 2 things around us. I focused on these tiny white flowers, which grow about an inch off the ground and are often times covered by the blades of the grass. I actually did not notice them at first because they were so small and insignificant. I realized and I had been stepping on them. I thought about God and how he is the God of small things like me. I am like that little flower – fragile, insignificant and easily stepped on. Despite how small I am, God still created me and made me beautiful in His eyes.   Towards the end of the second day, we were asked to contemplate on what we could let go off to be closer to God. With great fear and with my heart beating strongly in my chest, I prayed for the courage and strength to be able to offer everything to God even my children who are most important to me that I may find myself more and more in the hands of God. I had never cried so much in my life because I was so terrified of saying this prayer.   In the end, what I kept was the hope that even if I offer everything to God, He will provide me with what I need. It is at this point that I felt, for once, that I had completely entrusted myself to God.”   ~ Shared by a retreatant       SUNSET What must I let go in order to prepare myself to receive God’s grace? That was a gloomy afternoon, extremely cold weather and cloudy skies affected my concentration. It was really hard for me to think of what I must let go. If God’s grace is for all of us, why I am so afraid of what tomorrow brings? Why do I deny my gaffes? I asked myself, where is your trust in Him Glenn? Spontaneously, I recalled all the wrong decisions I’ have made, my bad habits and the sins I constantly committed. I realized that I have a big FEARS – fear of dying & fear of not being accepted. Fear is the reason why I always consider what other people might say. Suddenly, I noticed my tears were falling. In my mind,

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