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Homilies, Soul Food

Trustworthy in small matters

Homily by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, for the Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, at the Cenacle Retreat House, Quezon City. The Gospel is from Luke 16:1-13. Let me read to you a text I received recently from a dear friend. He says, “Arnel, can you remember in your prayers my son who is frustrated in his job? Very talented boy, as you know, but gets frustrated easily. He already quit two jobs, same reason. Please pray for him.” Then his last line, “Time is wasted on the young.” I never thought I’d actually see the day when I’d be saying the same words I heard from many priests at mass when I was growing up. “Ang mga kabataan ngayon,” they often said “gusto nila, lahat instant.” Remember those times, remember those words? They said something like, “young people today expect giant returns for dwarfish efforts,” or “they want immediate reward before even putting in the hard work.” I even remember the metaphors they used, which sound funny & outdated now, but still true: “instant coffee, instant mami, instant calculator….” Like my friend today, the old priests back in the day already saw this crisis, that young people hit rock-bottom too soon, before putting in the effort to run so that they could fly. Well, those young people whom the old priests were referring to, they grew up…& became us! And many of us, grown-up’s swore we’d never raise children that way; that instead we would impress upon our children that the really crucial & lasting things in life grow from long, painstaking, even boring work, rather than from instant coffee, instant mami, instant calculator. We swore we’d show them the truth behind our salawikain: na ‘pag may tiyaga, may nilaga; ‘pag may isinuksok, may madudukot; na habang maikli ang kumot, matutong mamaluktot, kung humaba na’t lumapad, saka mag-unat-unat.” We resolved that we’d show our children how to endure the long wait before self-gratification. But then just a few weeks ago at a restaurant, a family came in with two very restless, very rowdy kids. When they got all settled, mom & dad promptly gave each kid…an iPad. And what a transfiguration! Instant discipline! “The person trustworthy in small matters is also trustworthy in great ones, & the person dishonest in small matters is also dishonest in great ones.” How divine these words, coming from the Lord himself, yet how very practical. They’re not just about money even if the parable bears such a theme. To be honest & trustworthy in small matters means that we accept, & reckon with, & ground ourselves in something that has remained unchanged since the beginning of time, & this is the reality that the most essential things in life, the “big” things, are forged solid by small, laborious, & persistent blazing, brazing, & molding. Marami na pong nagbago sa buhay at sa mundo, maliban sa katotohanang ito, & this old truth cuts across issues. It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about financial security, or getting a degree, or being married, or raising children. Honesty & trustworthiness in the small things is what gives our feet their strength to run so that the wings God puts on our backs can help us fly. The steward who reaches the essential things in life despite many imperfections, is a person who works very hard while trusting very deeply in God. “No servant can serve two masters;” another set of words very divine yet very practical. We barely notice how instant self-gratification has become our master, hasn’t it? These past years, the older we grow, the more impatient we’ve become, the more easily aggravated, the less tolerant. And I speak for myself, as well; I really do. How we behave in traffic is one of the worst examples of this, as you know. How we bribe government agencies to expedite our documents, there’s another. And please forgive me for saying so, how we’ve lately cleansed our country of criminality—all of this shows how we’ve grown weary & quit doing it the Lord’s way, which is really the long, arduous, well-thought-out, & honest way…the way of the cross, as it’s sometimes called. The first-reading surprisingly reflects our state of affairs. “You who trample on the needy & destroy the poor of the land,” Amos says. “You who diminish the measure of flour in order to add to the value of money…you who fix the scales for cheating.” What is all that of that about? It is all about self-indulgent Israel that loves the quick fix. It is instant self-gratification right there, writ large, writ old. And the usual casualties of it all, then & now? The poor. Since we, humanity, often ride rough over each other to get to our big dreams the soonest possible time regardless of whom we hurt, why does God continue taking care of us—the small, self-absorbed, quarreling stewards that we are? Maybe the 2nd reading has the answer? Because we are beloved? Because we are “good and pleasing to God our savior who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth”? With God’s unconditional positive regard for us, doesn’t it make us wonder sometimes, who serves whom?

Homilies, Soul Food

Spiritual Poverty

There was a time before I was ordained when religious life became a particularly rough & stormy ride. I would write my mom about them, but careful to not laden her with details she might either not understand or feel totally helpless about. And mom’s replies were kilometric! They were so long that I don’t remember most of what they said. But there was one thing she did write about the storms in my life, something that would stay with me for a long, long time. “Anak, kapag lagi ka na lang masaya sa buhay, baka hindi mo na kailanganin ang Diyos.” That’s Mom’s spirituality at its rawest & deepest, without the advantage of any philosophical or theological education. “Anak, if your life is absolutely worry-free, you might not feel the need for God anymore.” When we were called to religious life, we knew full well that it was pretty much a yes especially to self-abnegation—abnegation of our privilege to ownership, of our self-seeking desires, of our self-directed will. Do you remember how we felt profound freedom & consolation in living our vows as we began the first few years in religious life? It was a promise fulfilled, wasn’t it, that sense of freedom, consolation, & simplicity? No wonder, novitiate years are always the sweetest years. Everyone’s on the same page, especially regarding self-surrender. We really had only God & each other as our tanging yaman. Then, we grow older in religious life. We’re convinced that it is all because of God’s grace, & nothing else, that we’re decently furnished all that we need to be effective in ministry—that we’re given fish when we need fish, & not a snake, that we’re given an egg when we need an egg, & not a scorpion. Really, what we’ve asked for, we’ve pretty much been given. As we seek, so have we found, pretty much. And many, many doors have opened before we even begin knocking. Now, how’s that for God’s hundredfold? You & I are living, breathing testimony to the fact that no self-abnegation of ours can ever outdo God’s generosity. In other words, our Father has given us this day, & every day, our daily bread, & much more besides, even during times that we don’t deserve them. We gave him our yes, but he ended up losing nearly all of his no’s. Because even his no is a concealed yes—& always to our advantage. How’s that for divine self-abnegation, for God putting Godself at our disposal? However, I think it’s a very human turn of character to get a little “spoiled” by God’s goodness. To become a little too comfortable—with ownership, with our desires, with our own will. In fact, I’d dare say, never mind being too comfortable with ownership or desires—so long as our renunciation of will remains the stronghold of our community life, our charism. But as it happens in many religious communities including mine, as we go further & longer into religious life, the personal will hardens as the last bastion we abnegate, if at all. It’s captain? Our ego. In other words, more than the material or the physical, it’s the spiritual poverty we finally, if inadvertently, un-friend. And I hear my mom say, “Anak, kung lagi ka na lang masaya, baka hindi mo na kailanganin ang Diyos.” We certainly do not want to give up being desperate for God, do we? Wouldn’t we want to always be desperate for God? To need God desperately is a familiar place for us. It’s a mysterious continuum of freedom & dependence. To need God desperately is a curious tango between consolation & distress, a breath-taking vitality of emptiness & fulfillment. Spiritual poverty keeps our spirit alive! In other words, whereas all our needs are now nicely furnished, unless we will to be spiritually poor, then maybe mom might be right, baka hindi na natin kailanganin ang Diyos. Maybe the Our Father is a prayer of constant desperation, of spiritual poverty. When we ask God’s kingdom to come, or that his will be done; when we ask for bread, for forgiveness, for the capacity to forgive; & when we profess that left to ourselves, we will surely be complicit to temptation & evil…when we say all that, maybe we are telling our Father how desperate we are for him. Or maybe we will realize how no longer desperate we are for him. When his disciples asked our Lord to teach them how to pray, maybe that one prayer he wanted them to say was a prayer of desperation. For don’t you think Jesus wants us to always be desperate for God, so that we keep asking, & seeking, & knocking, the way we did, once-upon-a-time, when we answered God’s call to a life of self-abnegation? I don’t know, maybe Jesus meant for us to be constantly spiritually poor. Maybe this was what he felt all his life as the Father’s faithful son. For when we are spiritually poor, it must be God himself who hollows out an emptiness in our hearts, so that he can in turn fill it & hallow it with himself. Maybe. (Homily given by Fr. Arnel Aquino, S.J, at the Cenacle Retreat House on July 23, 2016, anticipated 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time.)

Homilies, Soul Food

Salvation is God Loving Us First

Homily by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, at the Cenacle Retreat House, Quezon City. The Gospel is from Luke 10:38-42. My elder brother & I did very well in the Ateneo de Davao while we were growing up. We tried to land in the honor roll every quarter, & join elocution & spelling contests where we thought we excelled. As each school-year came to a close, kuya & I, in quiet desperation, gunned for the most medals because we figured, the more medals we had, the more times dad & mom could come up onstage to pin them on us. Kuya & I were desperate, I say again. Because dad expected only 1st-honors. He once said, “I know both of you are capable of always being 1st honors. So do it. Kami ng mommy n’yo, public school lang kami noon. Kayo ngayon, Ateneo. So, do it. Take advantage of the blessing. Don’t be 2nd honor or 3rd honor; first honor lang!” Dad put all our medals in one big frame he hung on the wall. But whenever I looked at that vitreous memento of our accomplishments, I felt more sad than anything else. Whereas dad was all the happier & prouder when we were 1st-honor, the opposite was also true. He’d go into some kind of “funk” if we landed anything less. He’d be surly, cold, on-edge; 2nd, 3rd honor, silver, bronze…not good enough. I think I’ve told you this story before. There was one evening when dad flew into a rage when he saw that our final exam grades wouldn’t land us 1st honors. Kuya was in 6th grade, I was in 4th. We had written our marks on our assignment notebook & show them to our parents. At noong, ika nga, tinimbang kami ni daddy ngunit kulang, our notebooks came hurtling across the living room as he hurled them at the television. Then he yelled, “Wala na bang itataas ito!?” Then he stormed out & went up the bedroom. Then, after what seemed to be forever, he summoned us up to the room where we found him looking very, very tired. He sat us in front of him, & with disarming tenderness, he said, “Mga anak, magmula ngayon, hinding-hindi na ako magagalit nang dahil lang sa grado n’yo sa eskwela. I’m sorry, mga anak.” The next thing I remember: my face buried against dad’s neck, & my cheek turning warm with my tears. From that evening forward, kuya & I didn’t have to purchase dad’s pride with the currency of medals & honor cards. In that moment of contemplation in the room, dad finally paused from all his frantic struggle for success which he calibrated according to the medals & honors he could make his sons bring home. Dad must’ve finally realized something else was more important to him now than honors & medals, & that was, that we were his children. There’s nothing wrong with being like a Martha who spins around like a top in the kitchen—always doing, doing, doing stuff for Jesus. But you know, several people have asked me, “Father, what else can I do ba to please God? I pray every morning & night naman, I give alms, I go to Church faithfully, I confess naman, I try to be a good mother & wife. What more can I do?” Then, the clincher: “Why do I feel it’s not enough?” Not enough for God (I usually want to ask)? Or not enough for you? Is it really all about satisfying God? Maybe, if for a while, we stopped doing, doing, doing something for God, & for a change, listening, waiting, being present to God, we might finally awaken to the sense that it doesn’t have to be always all about us pleasing God all the time. It’s also all about God loving us first—before we can even do the first thing for him. Like kuya & I grew up thinking that we had to earn dad’s pride by a maddening forage for honors & medals, many Catholics have been led to think that we must earn God’s love at a high price, we must merit expensive grace by doing, doing, doing; that we must guarantee our heaven by praying, praying, praying; that we must forestall God’s anger by obeying, obeying, obeying. No, I’m not saying we should stop doing or praying or obeying. But if we are scared that God might stop loving us, blessing us, & saving us unless we earn it, then we’d have tragically misrepresented God. If that’s the case, salvation & grace become all about us, what we can do. And only subsequently about God—signing our assignment notebook, “first honor”. Jesus didn’t take it against Martha for spinning around in the kitchen. He knew she was doing this for him. But not for a minute did Jesus take it against Mary either, for not doing anything, just sitting there, for him. Jesus loved the sisters, that was the most important thing; he wanted to visit with them, to stay with them, to waste time with them & share their presence before either woman could even do anything for him. This short story of Jesus in Bethany speaks volumes about salvation, dear sisters & brothers. Salvation is primarily God loving us first, & only subsequently, us loving him back. Both are important & needed & inseparable. But we need to get the order right: laging nauuna tayong mahalin ng Diyos. At ang pag-ibig ng Diyos, hindi kailangan kitain, o suhulan, o bilhin, kasi bigay. Libre. At buhos pa. Tayo lang naman ang naglalagay ng presyo sa pag-ibig ng Diyos, kasi madalas, ganoon tayo sa isa’t isa. Pero ang Diyos hindi ganon. What we can do for God is second only to the breadth & depth of his joy & delight in loving us first, in blessing us freely, & in wanting to be with us forever. God’s love is first, free, & forever. Amen.

Homilies, Soul Food

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Luke 9: 51-62)

By Fr. Braulio Dahunan, SJ Is Jesus trying to attract or to discourage followers? In today’s Gospel, Jesus is so honest and upfront in bringing about the hardships and difficulties it will involve in following Him. He gives three scenarios to illustrate his point. The first scenario is about this person who feels so drawn to Jesus that before he’s even called, he takes the initiative himself. He resolutely says, “I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus, however, wants to make him aware if he truly means what he is saying, and Jesus tells him, “Foxes have holes and the birds of the air their nests, but the Son of Man who has nowhere to lay his head.” Here Jesus is trying to show that to follow Him is to relinquish one’s security and well-being. To follow Jesus is a risky venture. He offers neither security nor well-being. To follow Jesus means not settling down in well-being and not seeking false securities. Following Jesus means entrusting one’s self to and trusting more in Jesus. The second scenario is on someone who is ready to follow him, but asks first to fulfill the sacred obligation of burying his father. But Jesus response to him is quite unsettling, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Jesus is trying to show that to follow Him means to make a firm decision. To open up paths to God’s Kingdom by working for that which is life-giving is always the most important task. Nothing must affect one’s decision. No one must hold him back or stop him. The third scenario is about this person who wants to say goodbye to his family before following him, Jesus says: “No one who puts hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Here Jesus makes clear that following Him means there is no looking back. To follow Him is to focus one’s attention on Him and His mission. It’s not possible to open up paths to God’s Kingdom being imprisoned in the past and being unable to look on what lies ahead. Are we attracted or discouraged to follow Jesus as he shows to us what it really means to follow Him? Following Jesus is not mainly based on attraction or discouragement, because if it is our only basis, then our following of Jesus will not be that meaningful and it will surely not endure to the very end. However, following Jesus must be based on how much we deeply love Him. Jesus’ words are not meant to just simply attract or discourage, it is truly meant to challenge us, His followers. Jesus’ challenge for all us is this—if we want to follow him we will have to love him even more than we love those for whom we would normally have the deepest natural affection. As God’s representative, as God’s Son, Jesus alone is to be loved in the way that God is to be loved, with all our heart, soul, strength and mind. Nothing less will do for God or for God’s Son. Jesus seems to be saying that if we want to be his disciples, we can’t be half-hearted about it. Our following of the Lord is not a casual affair; it needs to be carefully considered, just as someone who decides to build a tower or to go to war needs to think it through thoroughly beforehand. To follow Jesus means a complete dedication of self, an abandonment of all other attachments and involvements. Anyone who is willing to follow Christ must absolutely and completely entrust himself or herself to Him, let Him dictate what the proper attachments are, and let Him take care of his or her well-being. Becoming Christ’s disciple means to truly and sincerely commit to Him and His teaching. And so, we must establish our priorities and not to allow things to stand in the way of that which we consider important. Thus, Christianity is not only a Sunday morning religion. It is a hungering after Jesus to the point of death if need be. It shakes our foundations, topples our priorities, pits us against friend and family and makes us strangers in this world and people call us: “out of our minds!” Are we able to keep up with the challenge of being followers of Jesus? Honestly, we are not! We have not been following Jesus with all our hearts. We have not been fully responding to the demands of the Gospel. We have not been completely faithful to Christ. Rightly so, because no one in this world, with the exception of Mary, has ever been able to live that absolute dedication of self to Christ in the absolute manner that we hope to do. As we continue to desire to follow Christ, we have to humbly acknowledge that we are never right up with Christ, never in any way His equal. As we continue to keep up with the challenges of following Him, we do not have to worry about that, about perfection. We just have to strive our very best to love Him passionately and serve Him generously as we can every day. Following Jesus is not all about relinquishing or giving-up, but it is more on bequeathing or giving, which is solely motivated by our love for Jesus. Following Jesus is not only making a firm decision, but it is more on abiding on one’s decision because of love. Following Jesus is not just about not looking back, but it is more on treading forward with much devotion to Jesus and His mission. My dear friends, as we continue with our Eucharistic Celebration, let us humbly beg the Lord through the intercession of Mary, our Mother, to grant us the grace to live our Christian vocation with passionate love for Jesus and allow ourselves to be challenged by Jesus’ words and examples in the Gospel so that

Homilies, Soul Food

God’s “divine weakness”

This homily was given by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, on the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ; Cenacle Retreat House, May 29, 2016. There’s something that only a few single people might fully understand & deeply appreciate about parents—& this is their constant worry over their children going hungry. Regardless of social status, whether a father is awash in wealth or a mother is dirt-poor, a parent will always worry about the children going hungry. It is a quiet but persistent concern it seems to me, parang isang bombilya na parating nakailaw sa ulirat ng isang magulang. I remember when I was in grade school, mom always prepared a ridiculous bagful of groceries for me to take to a class night—chips, cookies, canned juice, may loaf of bread pa plus bottled palaman. I couldn’t shake off the memory of a particular grocery bag because one time, my uncle saw it & exclaimed, “For goodness sakes, will you be camping out for week?!?” Same story with my dad today. Every time I go home, & he & I have a heart to heart, his 80-year-old body & soul always find the words to say, “Kapag wala na ako, ang laki ng takot kong maguton ang pamilya ng kapatid mo.” He’s referring to Jonathan, his bunso—who’s never worked a day in his life & whose family’s been totally dependent on him, to this day. So, hunger & thirst are very powerful parental anxieties. Parents will do anything to keep their loved ones from going with an empty stomach, mayaman man o mahirap. Whether it’s a bagful of groceries for a class night, or kaning lamig with fish crackers sawsaw-sa-suka everyday, no food or drink is too lavish or too impoverished. Parents will gamble anything to keep their loved ones from going hungry. It’s occurred to me at times, when parents think “hunger & thirst,” I wonder if it’s just a corner away from thinking “sickness” or “collapse” or God forbid, even “death”. I hear many parents say, “Bahala na kami ang magkasakit o mamatay sa gutom, huwag lang ang aming mga anak.” And we use a beautiful Filipino word for this, pagtitiis. Parents say, “Titiisin namin ang gutom, kumain lamang ang aming mga anak.” That is because over & beyond food & drink lies the deeper kind of tiis, for which we all say: “Matitiis pa ng anak ang kanyang magulang, pero hindi matitiis ng magulang ang kanyang anak,” not for hunger, not for thirst, not for anything. Starvation does not have a stake in the whole vision that parents have for their family, least of all their children. For as long as they live & breath & have full use of their bodies, the whole plan is for the children to not just survive, but to live & never have to go hungry. Jesus likens his body & blood to food & drink because for as long as he & his Father have anything to do with it, nobody must go hungry & thirsty. All must be fed. Whether the hungry are believers or atheists, holy or sinful, perpetrator or victim—no distinction has ever stopped God from sustaining all of us. This is Salvation History, that all are saved from their hunger. Left to our human machinations, however, we fancy turning salvation history into starvation history. Natitiis natin kung may mga nagugutom, basta tayo busog. Pero ang Diyos kailanma’y di tayo kayang tiisin. In fact, he put his own body & blood at stake to feed the hungry, to relieve the burdened, heal the sick, include the ostracized. Buwis-buhay ang Dios para lahat busog at maligaya. Kaya nagkasugat-sugat ang kanyang katawan at dumanak ang kanyang dugo. Last year, my friend, Debbie, took me to a feeding program in a public school. You should check one out if you haven’t already. I gained deeper gratitude just by watching how the kids appreciated & ate the very simple fare. I realized the hundreds of thousands more who would go hungry everyday. I reckoned that this starvation could not be Salvation as God had meant it. Because Jesus offered himself as food & drink, then feeding the hungry is constitutive of Godliness. In fact, feeding the hungry is constitutive of salvation itself. We are all being saved when we feed the hungry. The oligarchs & the government pay the hungry but token attention because the lot of them are really strangers to starvation. But we who are the Body of Christ, we who know what it’s like to go hungry, we who partake of bread & wine at every Holy Communion, we can’t & shouldn’t be able to resist those who starve. Hindi man tayo makapagpatayo ng bahay para sa mga dukha, di man tayo manalo sa Lotto para balatuhan ang mahihirap, di man tayo konggresman na may pork barrel, maari pa rin tayong tumulong upang makakain ang nagugutom; kahit kaunti, kahit bahagi. The feast of Corpus Christi always reminds me that we are God’s “divine weakness.” He who is all-powerful, he cannot resist us. In one mighty blow, God can create us at one moment & demolish us the next. Instead, God became flesh & blood like us. He even offered himself as food & drink because it wasn’t enough that he stay apart from us. He had to be part of us. Saan ka naman nakatagpo ng Dios na ganyan na lang kung magmahal, Dios na hindi tayo natitiis? Talagang isang Nanay, isang Tatay ang Dios. Natitiis natin siya, pero tayo, hindi niya matiis…kailanman.

Homilies, Soul Food

The Light in the Darkness We Often Do Not See

This homily was given by Fr. Roger Champoux, SJ, during the Easter Vigil Mass at the Cenacle Retreat House last March 26, 2016. We have three main themes in the readings of this Easter Vigil: • We remember the distant past, the deliverance of Israel in the Exodus: “This is the night when you first saved our fathers”; • We remember our own deliverance through Baptism: “This is the night when Christians everywhere are restored to grace”; • We remember the resurrection of Christ: “This is the night when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death and sin.” What a magnificent historical fresco this is: we are invited to open our ears and our eyes and our hearts to the whole of creation and history, from the very beginning, with the way we were wonderfully created in the image of a loving God, with this window in our minds that opens us to see fire and light in darkness and have a glimpse of the mind of God. That original goodness, “very good” indeed, is still with us today. God said it about us in the very beginning, and he says it again to us tonight: “You are very good, my beloved.” Then we were invited to remember Abraham, our Father in Faith because he put all his trust in God. As somebody puts it very well, trust is the jump we make when we cannot understand anymore. So often in our lives, we don’t under-stand what is happening in us and around us but we are invited to trust. And then, in His own way, God “sees,” God “pro-vides,” and the lamb that suddenly appears –in the bush, in our lives–is the sign of God’s fidelity, the assurance of His presence. The chosen people, however, (and this includes us) were not always faithful to their loving God and to his covenant, and ended up in exile, in slavery. But the name of our God is Compassion and Fidelity, and Moses was sent to lead them out of exile into the Promised Land (what St. John will call “eternal life”). We heard tonight of the Passage through the Red Sea: a powerful image of Jesus going through the waters of death and emerging triumphant, and pouring upon us, from his Open Heart, the waters of life that deliver us from all the forces of evil. God’s power in Moses opens the frightening seas into a passage to freedom, as happened to Jesus on the Cross, as happened also to us in Baptism. And we saw how their very evil turned against the Egyptian pursuers, as we can see today when evil begets evil and violence turns against the violent, when evil breeds chaos. It was not always a straight journey for God’s people (is it ever for us too?) and this is why we were invited to hear, this very night, how the Prophets, like Isaiah, Baruch, Ezekiel, kept the Word of God alive and continued to proclaim God’s promise of faithful love in spite of our infidelities: “If you are thirsty, come to the water,” like the Samaritan woman invited to drink from the “living water” offered by Jesus. We were admonished again and again: let go of your wicked ways, seek God since He can always be found, drink again from the fountain of wisdom, as we heard again the divine promise: “I will give you a new heart, I will put a new spirit within you,” a heart that seeks love and peace instead of revenge, a spirit that seeks light instead of darkness. “You shall be my people, my children, and I will always be with you.” All of this “history” is still true tonight: it came true in our Baptism, it remains true this very evening as we remember and celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus. The waters of the Red Sea killed evil and set the Israelites on their journey; the waters of evil and sin killed Jesus on the Cross but the waters of new and eternal life flowed from his loving heart; the waters of our baptism did not drown us, instead they filled us with God’s love and we became His children. Paul’s reading reminded us: “Our old sinful self was crucified with Jesus, we are no longer in slavery to sin, we live with him in newness of life.” But now, we have a little problem. We celebrate tonight the glorious victory of Jesus over death and sin. But the Gospel sounds so hesitant, so muted: the women are “terrified” and Peter is simply “amazed.” They don’t see him! This is strange, but it makes something very clear: except most probably for Mary, nobody, nobody, expected this to happen: Jesus was dead, really and totally dead, and they were filled with pain and sadness and despair. Later in the day, the two disciples of Emmaus will walk with Jesus without recognizing him, they will only recognize him when he is no longer with them! But tonight, for the women who are told “to remember” what he said and later, for the two disciples who are invited to re-visit the Word of God in the Old Testament, suddenly, the light shines in their hearts first, and then in their minds: The Living is not among the dead! Nobody can take away the life of the Living, neither sin nor death! According to Luke, all this “had to happen.” But why did it have to happen? What was, what IS Good Friday, God Friday? Luke refers to is as “the power or darkness.” Simply because the CROSS is part of human life. All life ends in death, and then in rebirth. Add to this the gift of freedom that goes astray and that often seeks evil over good. This is true in our lives, in the lives of all people, and our religion embraces the crosses that are so much part of our lives. So does Jesus: he embraces and

Homilies, Soul Food

Hero

I just want to say first of all that I am going to talk about Batman versus Superman—which I presume most of you, if not all of you, Grade 10ers, have already seen, right? But don’t worry. No spoilers for you who haven’t seen it yet. I just find it interesting that they kill Wonder Woman in the final scene. Just kidding. No, they really kill Superman. Just kidding…? Okay, here goes. Don’t you find it intriguing that Batman and Superman, with all their strength and goodness of heart—they have such sad, painful, even dark pasts? They both as children lose their parents in a tragedy. They’ve since been leading double lives as Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent. Surely, many people love them, but only their superhero personas, right? Because they have haters when they’re in their regular identities. And they’re supposed to be kindred spirits, aren’t they? Their life-stories are quite similar, they both draw from a deep well of pain. Yet, they fall into Luthor’s machinations, so they try to wipe each other out! But see, here’s what I think makes them real heroes. In my book, Batman and Superman are truly “meta-humans”, not so much for their otherworldly powers. Rather, how can they be so devoted to relieving the world’s pain and suffering while getting over their own past every day of their lives? Isn’t Bruce Wayne so unhappy all the time? And remember how Superman was inches away from giving up because of bad reviews from the very people he helped? But Mrs. Kent pulled him off the ledge. “Be the hero, son,” she said. Be the hero. And that’s what a hero is, at least in my book: to be the hero means to try and ease other people’s pain and suffering despite your own. Oh, here’s something even better: a hero is someone who transforms his pain and suffering by transforming other people’s pain and suffering. Now someone like Lex Luthor only whines about his pain. Because he can’t and won’t transform his pain, he takes it out on others. Genius, yes; hero, no. Loser! ​I’d been riding jeeps this weekend to go home to my dad in Matina and back to Jacinto. I also walked the length of San Pedro St. and back to Bolton, then all of Claveria. The look of Davao has changed, but the feel is the same. Mother and child still sidle up to jeeps to ask for some loose change into their cup. En route to Matina, I saw a blind man and his blind wife ready to cross the street in Bankerohan, I had seen that when I was a child. Mercury Drug, as ever, elbow to elbow with customers. I could imagine the sick those medicines were gonna be for. In Bolton, a shirtless man who looked like he hadn’t bathed for months was talking to the voices in his head. Tired and hungry construction workers hung out on a sidewalk in Claveria. I’ve always wondered even as a child if laborers ever got to build decent houses for themselves like they do for the rich. ​This was the Davao I’ve known since I was a kid, my Gotham, my Metropolis. The look has changed, but the feel is the same. The feel is this way: that my Gotham is in bad need of a Batman; my Metropolis, a Superman. If only one of them would fly over and transform the pain and suffering of at least the precious few that I had seen in the past days—the mother and child or the blind couple, or the mentally-ill, or the laborer, that’d be great. Because there’s just a lot of pain and suffering going on, fellow Ateneans, a lot that need to be transformed. But unfortunately, we know that there will never be a Batman even if we sent the brightest light against the darkest clouds to summon him to our Gotham. Neither will there be a Superman zooming over to our Metropolis. There will be no meta-humans to transform the pain and suffering of our people. ​But there can be heroes! And they don’t have to be able to fly. They don’t need to thunder down the road in an unconquerable bat-mobile. No. There can be heroes who will do as simply as extend a hand and help feed the hungry mother and child. There can be heroes who can simply walk over and lead two blind people to cross the street. Yes, there can be heroes who will for once, tear themselves away from Facebook so they can face real people that society has unfriended. There can be heroes who will for once, forget Dota 2, and be a real-life Earthshaker or Axe or even Tiny, but this time for a poor child, a homeless lady, a tired laborer. There can be heroes who will for once ditch Counter-Strike, and lay down the imaginary weapons that deal imaginary death—so they can give life…by helping someone live even for just the day, in this reality where it counts. So never mind if a Superman will never fly over, or a Batman ever swing around. There can still be heroes—and they happen to be sitting in front of me today 433 of them. ​You know what, dear graduates, after Matina life, you’ll see that you’ll be making more and more crucial decisions that will affect your life. What are you going to be? Ever thought that far yet? What do you want to be? Are you going to be a doctor? A nurse? Do you want to be an engineer, a pilot, or a “professional gamer”, samba ko; which looks nice on a profile but really means “jobless”. Are you going to a religious? A teacher? Whatever it is you want to be, and this is my point: be the hero. Be the hero by transforming the pain and suffering of others—yes, even if you have a share of pain and suffering yourself. You’ve made

General, Homilies, Soul Food

Egypt

It must have been a strange and solemn sight for the apostles. Here they were about to do what they had done countless times before: break bread, eat bitter herbs, drink wine, and partake of the lamb in a meal that declared their deliverance from a place of slavery called Egypt. The Passover was a meal to remember their evening escape from the days of toil and bitter slavery under Egypt. As with the other such meals they had shared before, this one would proclaim again what God had done, the chains God had broken, the flight from prison to freedom, by the blood of the lamb. They were gathering again to remember that they were slaves no longer, that Egypt was no more. Then before even a bite is taken, here comes their Master, doing what they themselves thought they were freed from doing. He assumes the stance of a slave, bends down to the floor and proceeds to wash their feet. That alone must have repelled, if not silenced them. He their Lord was doing what they used to do in Egypt, the Master doing what only slaves are supposed to do, the Lord doing an Egypt even if they were in Egypt no longer. Perhaps the good Master was mistaken? Cleary, they were in Jerusalem now. Or, might it not be that it was they who were mistaken? Perhaps even if they were in the very heart of Jerusalem, they had never really left Egypt, given how they were still moving about in bondage and in fear. Perhaps they were still very much slaves since slavery has always been subtle in the way it conditions slaves with numbness and delusion and despair. It is possible that when our Lord bent down to wash their feet in the manner of a slave, they were awakened from their numbness and despair. It is possible that with water in his hands over their feet, they saw through their delusion, saw how deluded they were in supposing they were no longer in Egypt. You see these Egypt moments in our lives as well, given how readily we sometimes concede our loyalties to the many powers that vie for our allegiance; subtle forces that seem benign at first but eventually hold us captive. We know we are not free when we are under the spell of these attractive forces. We know we are not free when we are driven by repulsive energies that tear us apart from ourselves and from each other. When we no longer know we are not free, when the numbness and delusion and despair take over, we are back again in that place of slavery. Yet while we are there, the Master comes to our lives as someone who bends down to our feet, keeping our heart close to his, awakening us from numbness to love he has borne for all eternity. On the eve of our deliverance, before he presides over a new Passover meal, our Lord does not take the stance of one who is about to take flight. He takes the stance of one who is about to stay with us to the very end. He takes the stance of a slave not because he is not free, but because he is about to show us what it will take for us to be free. He asks us, “Do you realize what I have done for you?” Can you see what I have given you? Do you know what is happening here, what you are receiving? Do you recognize the place you are fleeing from? Can you sense where you are going? Do you know what I have done for you? Do you know why? I have shown you the way out of Egypt, the path of your deliverance. That path starts here, the very moment you bend down to the feet of each other, keeping the heart of your neighbor close to yours, awakening each other from numbness to the love you bear for one another. “I have given you an example to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.” After this gesture for us to follow, Christ presides over a meal that recalls our deliverance from Egypt. In that first meal, a lamb was slaughtered, its blood smeared on our doors for death to pass us over. In this new Passover, the Master is the very lamb of sacrifice; the bread is his body, the wine his blood. From that wash of water in his hands over our feet, he turns us back to the Table and leads us to his body and blood about to be offered for our lives. The Master on his knees, washing the feet of his disciples. Christ on his knees, in the garden of tears, bent at the pillar, bound to our cross, staying to the very end. As I have done for you, so also shall you do for each other. Let us pray on this eve of our deliverance. Let us keep watch over this solemn sight of love bending down and being offered for our lives. See his hands in the water over our feet. Keep vigil over the bread that is his Body, about to be broken and shared. The bloodstains from the Lamb smeared on our daily crosses; condemnation and death passing us over. Tonight we shall leave Egypt. Tomorrow, Egypt shall be no more. Jose Ramon T Villarin SJ Cenacle Retreat House Holy Thursday, 24 March 2016

Homilies, Soul Food

Transforming Our Pain

This homily was given by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, on Palm Sunday, 20 March, 2016, at the Cenacle Retreat House. I’m one of 10 Jesuits assigned to San Jose Seminary. This is the time of the year when we evaluate applicants from all over the country. In every batch of young men we evaluate, at least three or four have fathers who are drug addicts. Now I’m used to hearing young people having jobless fathers, drunkards, violent fathers. But I still have to get used to fathers who are drug addicts. With neither shame nor pride, these sons openly admit that they’ve suffered incredible violence from their fathers. It’s really very sad. On the other hand, you’d marvel at how these men have turned out to be such cheerful prospects for the priesthood. In fact, we’ve accepted several such young men this year. Having a drug addict for a father is not an impediment to acceptance in a seminary. They have very clear motivations, they’re psychologically honest, they have a nourishing prayer life, and a good disciplinary record. But as soon as they step into San Jose, we put all seminarians through mandatory counseling. Many find it excruciating to go through counseling at the beginning. But as years wear on, all our seminarians eventually say the pain has been worth it. This reminds me of Fr. Richard Rohr, a modern Franciscan spiritual guru. In books and lectures, he repeats a line I will not forget for as long as I have my wits about me: “If we do not transform our pain, we will most certainly transmit it.” Many seminarians come wounded by family. So, we hope that putting them through counseling will transform their pain; not only so they don’t hurt anymore, but also so that they don’t transmit it anymore—like their fathers had transmitted it to them, and like their grandfathers passed it onto their fathers, and on and on, further back into the valley of darkness and tears. In my own life and that of my friends, I’ve seen three of many ways by which we’re able to transform our pain. Transform our pain into what? Into something more life-giving, something that neutralizes its poison, so that it stops with us. First, we begin to transform our pain with humility: accepting that we are wounded, that we need help. This demands an almost brutal psychological honesty, especially because our pain unearths ugly emotions and traumas we never had control over, and yet now that we’re older, we’ve visited them upon others in the process. Secondly, we transform our pain by sharing it. We talk about it with someone who can understand and assist us. I believe that our more serious pains in life are meant to be shared, especially with our closest friends. We were never meant by God to suffer alone. In fact, it’s usually the lone sufferers by choice who heal the slowest—and who tend to transmit their pain the most. Third and last for today, we transform our pain by offering it for others. When the great filmmaker Marilou-Diaz Abaya was in the last stages of her cancer, she listened to programs on Radio Veritas at which people called in their prayer requests. As she lay in bed, the good woman listed down on a notebook the callers’ names, people she didn’t know from Adam. Alongside their names, their prayer requests. Then, she prayed for them. But part of her prayer was offering her own condition on behalf of these strangers. Imagine that. I also have a friend who suffered from very deep sadness and meaninglessness. Other than her medications, what kept her from surrendering to the darkness was her conviction that God can use her pain, in some mysterious way, towards the healing of her troubled family. We don’t have the scientific, sociological, anthropological evidence backing up what we call “redemptive suffering”, or as I understand it, transforming our pain by offering it for others. I don’t think it’s payment to purchase pity from God, as though in a kind of fiscal exchange, God will grant us what our suffering can buy. No. To offer our pain and suffering for others is, first, a confession that despite everything, we have nevertheless been blest beyond imagination. It’s like offering our gifts at the altar—gifts we don’t mind parting with, however painful, because God has blest us with so much more besides. Secondly, offering our pain for others is our way of affirming that all of us are desperately and totally dependent on God. In fact, we’re able to withstand suffering only because God has never abandoned us….so that, thirdly, instead of falling into that sink-hole that leads to the darkness of self-prison, offering our suffering for others is our way of begging God to find some use, any use for our offering, to help ease the suffering of others—in some mysterious way. Because if we could offer prayers for others, then surely we could offer our suffering for them, too. Basta, bahala na ang Diyos kung papaano niya gagawin…basta magtitiwala tayo na maaari niya itong gawin. In a few days, we will commemorate the passion, death, and resurrection of a man who knows what it means to suffer the senseless, envy-driven, cruel, and painful death. But we know how he offered his body and blood to the Father who has since transformed that suffering to benefit us. Now, 3000 years later, we have a choice. We can see our pain either as something useless, dead-end, unfair, and self-defeating…or we can accept it, share it, and offer it for others by asking God to transform it—towards the healing of our loved ones, towards the forgiveness of our sins, and towards the lightening of the burden of those more sorrowful than we. So as we transform our pain and suffering with the help of the Lord, may we do all this in memory of him—especially as we welcome Holy Week.  

General, Homilies, Soul Food

A Pondering Heart

This homily was given by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, on January 1, 2016, at the Cenacle Retreat House. Early this week, we went on a full ferry boat on our way to Bantayan Island. Across from us sat a mother, and on her lap, a very restless toddler. The little boy was irrepressible. He would squirm out of his mom’s arms, then go onto the floor. There was very little legroom between benches so the little boy wouldn’t notice he was already under the seat in front. Then he would suddenly straighten up and bang his head under the seat, and start to scream. Then his mother would ease him out from under there, put him on her lap. He’d be fine for a while. Then he’d start being antsy again, and start squirming away, and sliding down onto the floor. Same story. Banged his head again, screamed, rescued. This happened around four times through the hour-and-a-half hour trip. I’d have been flustered on the second time that the same thing happened, were I the mother. I’d have tried to, like, “reason” with the baby in some awkward, if stupid way to solve “a problem”. But this mother, like many mothers—she had her toddler on a very long leash. It was the look on the mother’s face that I found most haunting. It was an unflinching, contemplative look. Not smiling but not frowning either. Not a weak, helpless look, but not a grave, heavy-handed glare either. She was very “there”, very present to her baby. Yet, she also looked like she was present to a hundred other things a-swirl in her mind. The best metaphor for her gaze we could borrow from Mary: the look of “pondering these things in her heart.”  Many of us are familiar about pondering things in our hearts. We also call it contemplation, don’t we? To ponder contemplatively. And it makes sense that mothers have the forbearance of a Job when they ponder their children in their hearts, because, as we know, unlike the thinking mind, the contemplative heart has a lot more space. Pondering in the heart has plenty of room where our thoughts and considerations can freely drift and dance, without censorship, without analysis, or do’s and don’t’s, or should’s and shouldn’t’s. In fact, one clear sign that we’re pondering with our hearts is when we do not obsess about dichotomies. A contemplating heart has room for contradictions and paradoxes. When our hearts ponder, we’re not cramped by either/or’s, or all-or-nothing’s. A contemplating heart has room for both/and’s, yeses and no’s, should’s as well as shouldn’t’s—and still be at peace. “Hay nako, anak,” Mary must’ve pondered as she gazed at Jesus. “How much you’ve already gone through before you were even born. In the eyes of the world, I’m your dalagang–ina, so you’re an anak sa labas. The angel said you’re the son of God, and savior of the world. But look at your woeful, makeshift nursery, anak.” How much more irony was there for the more fastidious among us to analyze and solve? But in Mary’s pondering heart, there was no contradiction pressing to be straightened, no mistake needing correction. Everything belonged; everything fell into place in that wide space that her pondering heart was. A second clear sign that we’re pondering with our hearts is when love silences fear. When we contemplate with our hearts, love does not erase all fear—for there are things we’re still afraid of when we contemplate about our life. But in a pondering heart, love defangs our fears. It neutralizes its venom. Mary actually had much to fear—before, during, and even after her son’s birth. For one, her womb was growing even before a Joseph showed up at the door; probably why she had to go on self-exile to Elizabeth’s, for fear of being accused of adultery and sentenced to death by stoning. When Mary went on labor, she was far from the welcome of home. Then, no sooner than the child was born, a mad king decreed the massacre of innocents. Oh, there was a lot to fear alright. But Mary’s pondering heart had more space for love than fear. Her love for God far exceeded her fear of men. If ever she was afraid, and I’m sure she was, she never feared for herself alone, which was probably why her world didn’t come crashing down on her. Fear for nobody but ourselves does that to us, remember? It shrinks our world, cramps our space and makes it hard for us to breathe. Kapag natatakot tayo para sa sarili lamang, lalo na dahil pinakamahal natin ang sarili lamang, lumiliit ang mundo natin. A third and final sign of pondering with the heart is that latitude we give for God to move and do whatever he wishes in the space we relinquish to him. It’s like welcoming into your home someone you owe a lot to: you give up your bedroom for him, you leave for him the tastiest portions of the meal, you give him the keys to your house and tell him not to worry about the time of his coming’s and going’s, and that he could wake you up any time if he needs anything, anything at all. That’s the kind of space a contemplative heart has for God, a space of total surrender out of deep respect and gratitude. All her life, Mary welcomed God that way, with a life of constant surrender of her space to whatever God or his son chose to be and to do—even to the way her son chose his death. Pati ‘yon, kahit masakit, napagkasya ni Maria sa lawak ng kanyang puso. I imagine that the way Mary contemplated her child is very, very similar to how God contemplates us, from the day he willed our birth, up to now. The divine pondering has unbelievable space for all our contradictions, our inconsistencies, our infidelities. Every inch of God-space is filled with divine love that casts

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