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Features, General, Homilies

Primerea

Do you miss Pope Francis? What do you remember most about his teachings or words of wisdom? I recently read his autobiography titled Hope: An Autobiography, and there found an interesting lesson from Pope Francis. Dios nos primerea. God is always ahead of us. It is actually part of the deep Argentinian or Latino Catholic Christian faith. It is based on a vision from Ezekiel. As the winter season begins, the prophet sees the almond tree and observes that among the trees in the forest, it is the first to bloom and bear fruit. It symbolizes God, writes Pope Francis, who is always ahead of us, always first, always leading us. Even when we sin, God is already waiting for us; like the Prodigal father, he is ahead in waiting for our return. Dios nos primerea. I remember this principle because today the beautiful and very touching story of Joseph the dreamer ends. We have been following this very human story for a week now. The drama ends today. With the death of Jacob, the patriarch, the brothers who envied Joseph and maltreated him, panicked. They thought finally Joseph would exact vengeance upon them. But Joseph had really forgiven them and told them that everything that happened was God’s will. God, he said, meant it for good, to achieve his present end which is the survival of many people. Indeed, as economic minister of the whole of Egypt, Joseph saved the kingdom from famine. Dios nos primerea. God was ahead of Israel; and even the crime that the brothers committed against Joseph was mysteriously part of God’s plan for the chosen people. The Gospel puts it in another way: divine providence. Jesus teaches that there is nothing to fear because God provides for everything that we need. “Even all the hairs of your head are counted,” he says. “So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” Like a mother or a father, God already knows what we need and provides for them. Dios nos primerea. He is always ahead of us. The legendary Ateneo High school teacher, Mr Onofreo Pagsanghan or Pagsi for short, shared that when he and his wife was newly married, they would spend days planning for the future of their family. Once, they brought up where to build a home. At that time, this was still wilderness but it was the closest to the Ateneo. They thought it would be very convenient for them, since Pagsi was teaching at the school . all he had to do was cross the street and Ateneo would be there. And if they had children, the boys would also conveniently just cross the road as well and attend school; and for the girls, they would just cross the street then walk left to go to Maryknoll. Good thinking, they said, and settled down at Esteban Abada. He was so impressed by how the plan worked out well. And then it dawned on him how we humans are so good at planning our future: we buy life insurance plan, health insurance, educational plan, etcetera. Despite our limitations—we cannot see the future—we rely so much on our capacity to prepare for the future. And yet, he says, we deny the same faith from God. When crisis happens in our lives—wars, natural calamities, grave illness or death—our faith in God waivers. Surely, he says, God who is omnipotent, omniscient and all loving has prepared a future better than we can ever imagine. As the prophet Jeremiah says, “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Or indeed as the Latinos would simply say, “Dios nos primerea.” God is always ahead of us! Homily delivered by Fr. Emmanuel (Nono) Alfonso, SJSaturday, 12 July 202514th Week in Ordinary TimeCenacle Retreat House

Features, Homilies, Soul Food

Story

The story of Christmas opens with history, an actual census ordered by Caesar Augustus, during the time when Quirinius was governor of Syria. It closes with a tale of an angel telling shepherds of the nightwatch to go see for themselves “an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” The story of tonight is bookended by the truth of history and the truth of heaven. It starts with people moving to be enrolled because of a political decision and ends with the heavenly host rejoicing over God’s decision to enroll himself into our history. Quirinius we will not dispute. But when we hear of heavenlies talking at night, proclaiming, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests”, we wonder if Christmas is just some made up story we tell each other to distract or numb ourselves from the heartbreak of this world. And yet, the evangelist Luke, the story teller, takes pains to bookend the Christmas story with accounts from history and from something that is more than just fantasy. The wood of the manger foreshadows the wood of the cross. The birth in a stable at the margins of the city anticipates the death on a hill outside the walls. The swaddling cloths that wrap the infant prefigure the strips of burial linen in the empty tomb. The light of the Nativity is not without the darkness of the Passion. Mary’s tears are of happiness and sorrow. The Child has her eyes. Her tears are his as well. On this night, the stain of her blood on the earth is the same stain from the blood of the Lamb of God, the very stain which marks us for deliverance. Soon after, this family will be on the run, living as refugees in fear, fleeing to Egypt to escape the murderous wrath of a delusional king. So much for fantasy, this story. We are here tonight not just because of the inertia of tradition. We gather not out of obligation. We are here because we believe the story. We are here because this Child is true. And we believe his light to be the one light that shines in this “land of gloom”, the only light that outlasts the darkness outside. We do not deny that the darkness disheartens us. We confess how lost and afraid we are. We’ve had our share of delusional kings and their murderous greed in this country. We have witnessed how hatred and bigotry continue to shed the blood of the innocent. We have been distressed by the brazen distortion of truth and justice by those in power. The callousness terrifies us. Despite all this however, we will not let fear and desolation take hold. We will still celebrate this night of Christmas because we know it is amid terrifying darkness that God comes to us. And so before the wood of the manger and cross, we will dare to believe again in him who stays with us in the dark. We will dare to believe in him who is true. We will love again because only love can endure the night. Like the Christmas story, our own life stories are bookended by the truth of history and the truth of heaven. All throughout our lives, there will be enrollments to keep us moving from place to place. And angels as well, telling us not to be afraid, urging us to please go see for ourselves this infant wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. There will be tears of happiness and sorrow, swaddling cloths of tenderness and loss, moments of gladness and silence. At the close of our stories, perhaps we will be caroled too by some heavenlies proclaiming glory to God in the highest, and peace to all on whom his love rests. Wishful thinking and fantasy? Not really. We know the story. And we believe God’s story.   Homily delivered by Fr.  Jose Ramon (Jett) T. Villarin SJ Christmas Eve Mass Cenacle Retreat House 24 December 2023

General, Homilies, Soul Food

Narcissists | Matthew 23:1-12

Psychologists can now distinguish 8 different kinds of narcissists, can you imagine? Eight! Let’s talk about 4 that are most familiar to us. First, the grandiose narcissists. Grandiose narcissists are your garden variety blow-hard, mayabang, mahangin. Their self-references are tireless & tiresome. They constantly trumpet their accomplishments & namedrop a lot. “CEO this, rich man that, socialite couple this invited me, sought me for advice, asked me for help,” all that. They brag about trips abroad, showcase their latest designer purchases. And if you talk about yours, you find yourself “politely” one-upped. Grandiose narcissists, the imeldifics, are arrogant, flamboyant, & hopelessly competitive. Second, malignant narcissists. One time, a student begrudged me the grade I gave him in theology. He was best in Philosophy daw back in college seminary in the province, & getting a B in my theology course was insulting. For the next 3 years, he became legendary for rarely missing a chance to bad-mouth me to fellow seminarians. He’d even dissuade them from enrolling in the courses I teach, can you imagine? Malignant narcissists are everything that grandiose narcissists are, but with value-added: venom. They vilify whoever they perceive undervalues them. So, they hatch rumors, lie, manipulate information; anything to defame the enemy & quash the competition. To help their cause, they cozy up to the authorities with favors & flattery. Third, covert narcissists. A little harder to detect because they self-report as victims. They bemoan that their bosses/superiors don’t trust them, peers undervalue them. They’re always sidelined, passed over, ignored. But listen a bit further & the real sound byte comes along: “I would’ve been the better choice. I’m the best one who could’ve done the job. I’m smarter & more experienced than anyone here. May favoritism kasi dito, so, I’m grossly unappreciated. But don’t ever come asking me for help when things go bad.” Very strangely, covert narcissists play lament & persecution as the musical score for their self-aggrandizement. Fourth, communal narcissists: the altruistic, charitable type. They support orphanages, feeding programs, relief work. They raise funds for seminaries & churches. If you really think about it, they’re not any more helpful or more compassionate than the next person. But they want to be seen & heard that way. Communal narcissists project an image of kindness, self-sacrifice, & love for the poor. But at their core, it’s really about attention-seeking, impression management. At their worst, they push their weight around & manipulate decision makers to achieve their own aims. But since their clarion call is service, no one blows the whistle on their vanity. In today’s Gospel, Jesus calls out the Pharisees & scribes for their narcissism. “They perform all their works to be seen (pakitang tao lang daw). They widen their phylacteries & lengthen their tassels (para mapansin na tapat sila sa batas ng Diyos). They love places of honor at banquets (mga senyoritong pinagsisilbihan), seats of honor in synagogues, greetings in marketplaces, & being called ‘Rabbi’” (donor, celebrity, titulado). There’s also a certain malignancy to them because “they preach but not practice (and) tie up heavy burdens & lay them on people’s shoulders, but they will not lift a finger to help them.” ‘Yun talaga ang delikado: religious narcissism; because we can hide behind a good & holy cause: God! But it feels exhilarating because we have a captive audience: the community. We have a stage: the altar. We have a theater: the church. We have shoulder-to-shoulder friends: kura paroko, bishop, cardinal. And look! Look at the people we’ve helped, people who thank us & need us & pray for us: the poor, the scholars, the ill, the priests, nuns, seminarians! Don’t get me wrong, religious narcissists are highly accomplished. We cannot diminish their contributions. They’re pretty apparent, beneficial, & we keep turning to them in our hour of need. But the self-importance, the backdoor manipulation, the self-imposition & self-promotion. It all comes down to me, myself, & I, “but all for God & the salvation of my soul.” Which brings us to the probably reason why narcissists are the way they are. Unless there are minions, they feel terribly alone. Unless there are spectators, they feel invisible. Unless there’s an audience, they feel unheard; worse, unheard of. Unless they prove themselves, they feel worthless. In other words, their locus of self-esteem is entirely external. Be visible & loud. Let it all be public & larger than life. Otherwise, their innermost self, gapes with unbearable, unbelievable emptiness. You know, sisters & brothers, Jesus might’ve been able to reform the hierarchs much sooner & more efficiently were he born to a priestly family & became a Temple authority, or if he became a rabbi, Sadducee, Pharisee himself. ‘Yun bang taong may sinasabi sa lipunan at simbahan. But Jesus was born an ordinary Jew, to a poor family who schooled & raised him to goodness & love of God. Artisan like his dad, he built & fixed things for more than half his life. In his final 3 years, he built & fixed people. He was more credible than all the rabbis, wiser than all the prophets, mightier than all the kings put together. But never once do we hear him self-refer as rabbi, prophet, or even son of God. Instead, what did Jesus call himself, sisters & brothers? Son of man. In bible-speak, what’s that mean: son of man? A person. A regular, typical, ordinary, simple person. A guy. Guy from Nazareth. A guy whose simplicity, humility, & poverty, & whose enormous power & great love put the narcissists to shame. Homily delivered by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time Cenacle Retreat House 4 November 2023 (Anticipated Sunday Mass)

General, Homilies, Soul Food

Ouch

Matthew 16:21-27 My friend told me this story when she came for a visit last month. There’s this theology professor in her school; famous, published, often quoted, but feared. He’s that type who knows he’s good. But he has ways of reminding you that he is, ‘yung ganong klase. And you know how people like that can be, right? Takes little to irk them, they’re catty & sarcastic, they don’t hesitate to show that they have more important things to do than entertain your opinion or answer your stupid question, & all that. One day, one of the professor’s students asked for a deadline extension for his paper. The kid was just recovering from an injury due to an accident. Well, Professor X, true to form, wouldn’t budge. He was catty, sarcastic, & dismissive. After being needlessly lectured, the student finally said, “You know what, professor, you’re a (jerk).” (He actually used another word that begins with an “A,” but it’s not appropriate in church.) Professor X stopped dead, shocked. First time someone made him aware of what everybody already thought & said of him but were too afraid say so: that he may be an accomplished academic, but he was just a big, self-absorbed, arrogant jerk (not the actual word). After telling me the story, my friend said, “This reminds me of what my therapist told me one time: a jerk stays a jerk until somebody says ouch.”       I’ve read & heard today’s Gospel as many times as you have. But funny that it’s only now I notice it: the word “show.” “Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem, suffer greatly from (the religious authorities), be killed, & be raised.” Now I’m wondering: how might Jesus have shown that he must go to Jerusalem w/ full knowledge of the risk of death? Ano, hindi kaya siya mapakali? Lagi kaya siyang balisa? Madalas kaya siyang nakatingin sa malayo na malalim na iniisip? Mabilis kaya siyang mainis? But more importantly, sisters & brothers, what was he thinking of doing in Jerusalem so bad, that that it showed? If he was going back there to preach & heal, well, he did that every day, uneventfully. So, nothing extraordinary would’ve shown in Jesus’ behavior if that was the only thing he planned on doing. But he must’ve felt in his bones: this “trip to Jerusalem” wasn’t going to be the parlor game of musical chairs. It might just be his last journey. Now that would’ve shown, wouldn’t it? So, what was he thinking of doing that he knew would likely seal his fate for good? I can only think of one thing: cleansing the Temple. Jesus was going to finally say ouch. When Jesus marches to Jerusalem, he will carry in his heart all the names & faces of people whom the religious authorities have disregarded, ostracized, separated—all because of their wrong interpretation of God’s Law; their elitist, discriminatory, ritualistic, formalistic, anti-poor, wrong interpretation of God’s Law. What better place to bring the people’s ouch but the Temple? The beating heart of Israel’s faith. The dwelling place of Adonai…which the authorities had long been cashing in on, stealing from, & milking. Kasi ang daming pumapasok na pera at mga alay. But Jesus knows, when he says ouch, no, when he shows his ouch, the holy authorities may just pounce on him this time, until ouch he can say no more. “Say what you want about us, Jesus of Nazareth,” I could almost hear the Pharisees & Sadducees think, “But don’t you ever touch our money & power.” I’m not on any social media except maybe the classroom & church which I consider social media anyway. So, I ask my younger Jesuit brothers, “May umaaray na ba sa social media tunkol sa (pagka-inutil) ng mga pinuno natin sa pagtaas ng presyo ng mga bilihin?” “Meron naman, Father. Marami na.” “E d’un sa mga napakong pangako nung eleksyon, at d’un sa Department of Agriculture, the beating heart of the poor’s problems today (or, more like the heart that stopped beating), may nag-che-chest-pain na ba, may umaaray na?” “Meron, Father. Marami na.” I wonder who, like our Lord, is going to finally take one for the team. Who’s going to march to Jerusalem to carry all the poor’s ouches, & take one for the team? Come to think of it, uso pa ba ‘yon, ‘yung taking one for the team? May mga bayani pa ba? That’s what a hero is, ‘di ba? Someone who takes up all the ouches of the poor & the wounded, & takes one for them. Dear sisters & brothers, you & I are no strangers to taking up our cross, aren’t we? We’ve willingly endured many sacrifices for people, institutions, the vocation we love. But, see, when Jesus said, “whoever wishes to come after me must deny themselves, take up their cross, & follow me,” he said it during & within a very specific context; the context in which he was about to march up to the holy bullies & say ouch to them & take one for the team. That’s the kind of cross that Jesus was talking about during & within that particular context. In other words, “Sinong gustong sumama?” That was the unsaid question. “Anyone want to come?” “God forbid, Lord, no such thing shall ever happen to you.” So, wala. Walang gustong sumama. Walang gustong sumama para umaray. When was the last time you had the courage to say your ouch to someone? What happened to you after that? Sharing tayo? May ouch story din ako & boy, the consequences were awful & long-drawn. But the Lord & my closest friends knew I told only the naked truth. Anyway, sisters & brothers, since time immemorial as you can see, a jerk remains a jerk until somebody says ouch. I continue to pray to God: “Please, God, send us an oucher & deliver us from more jerks.” Homily delivered

Homilies, Soul Food

Faith Takes Time and Trust

Quick results. This is a way that many ads get our attention and make us want a certain product or service. “Lose twenty pounds in two weeks!”“Get visibly lighter skin in seven days!” “Whiten your teeth in threedays!” There are even apps that help you “read” a whole book (and get the key ideas) in 15 minutes! We get it, time is limited and we want to make the most of it by imposing control and expecting speedy outcomes. What becomes problematic though is when we adopt that same control-driven, quick-results mindset to our spiritual life. As our Gospel reading today reminds us, there is no shortcut to salvation or sanctity. We are familiar with this parable of the weeds and the wheat. This powerful story conveys profound lessons about patient trust in the Lord, refraining from hasty judgments, and recognizing that holiness is not something we achieve on our own power. Of course, we want to be good, we want to love and obey the Lord, and we want to experience salvation. Too often though, we want to take matters into our own hands. Spirituality then becomes a competitive sport. I have accompanied several people who are well-meaning and earnest, and yet have become so disillusioned with their “lack of progress” so much so that they want to give up. We strive so hard to be perfect, and we try to root out our flaws and imperfectionsusing our own wits and efforts. This also translates to how we interact with others. We are quick to judge who are “weeds” and who are “wheat” and treat them accordingly. However, we presume that we can tell between the weeds and wheat. The thing is, we often cannot and this is what the parable emphasizes. Commentators have pointed out that the weed named in the parable is a particular kind known to resemble wheat in the early stages of growth. Pulling up the weeds is indeed risky because we might not know if we are also pulling up the wheat! And how is this also accurate in our experience? How often are we so quick to judge another person as bad or worthless at face value only to realize that we do not have the full picture? And how many times does this happen in our own interior life? What we consider our strength or gift turns out to be our blind spot, and our weakness turns out to be a source of tremendous grace? We are then invited to trust in the Lord’s wisdom, even when, or especially when our impatience with the world and ourselves lead to frustration and disillusionment. Sometimes we can seem we know better than God, who has “mastery over all things” as our first reading reminds us. We are also reminded to rely on the Holy Spirit, who “comes to the aid of our weakness” as Paul exhorts his readers. This is why we also need to be discerning and allow time to unfold to reveal what is true from what is false. A helpful attitude would be what Teilhard de Chardin wrote about:“Patient Trust – Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—and that it may take a very long time…”We need to “give Our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading us, and accept the anxiety of feeling ourself in suspense and incomplete.” Friends, let us pray for this grace of patient trust. And be reminded that with God and in all things that matter, what is important is not the quick superficial result, but the one that leads us to everlasting life. Homily delivered by Fr Jordan Orbe, SJ  22 July 2023 (16th Sunday in Ordinary Time) Cenacle Retreat House

General, Homilies, Soul Food

Feast of the Cenacle

Why is TODAY the Feast of the Cenacle? It looks like a rather non-significant day when nothing happens in the world and in the Church. And the date even changes each year! The Resurrection is finished, Jesus has gone up to heaven, and the Holy Spirit has not yet come. There is, however, the “upper room,” also called “Cenacle.” It looks like a very important part of the “charism” of the Cenacle. If we take a look at the readings for today’s feast, we hear first Ezekiel, who makes a marvelous promise in the name of God: “I will give you a new heart, I will put a new spirit into you, I will be your God.” But a promise remains a promise: it gives hope, which is good, but it is only really good when the promise does happen. And suddenly, with the 2nd reading, we find ourselves in the Acts of the Apostles, and this time, the promise comes from Jesus himself: “You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit shall come upon you: and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem (…) and to the ends of the earth.” Another promise, but it sounds more urgent, so “they returned to Jerusalem and they went to the upper room, where they were staying.” And there, they did nothing but “with one accord, devoted themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus and his brothers.” (Remember, the “upper room” is the Cenacle). With the recent liturgical changes in most parts of the Church, Pentecost is tomorrow, so the promise will soon come true and the mission will begin, with Mary in the very middle of it. From the Cenacle to the Mission. What does the Gospel add to this waiting in hope? What does Jesus say in his final prayer to the Father with his friends? Just before today’s Gospel, Jesus tells his Father something like, “I’ve done my job: they know now that all you have given me comes from you, and that the words I gave to them are the very words that You gave me.” He is the Word, and they know it. Then a few lines later, in today’s gospel, we hear: “May they be one as we are one. Now I am coming to you, and I am saying these things in the world that they may have the fullness of my joy in themselves. Sanctify them in truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I send them into the world. And I give my life for them so that they may also be sanctified by the truth.” Before the sending for mission, we have the “sanctify them in truth, in your word.” (Two days ago, in Harvard, without quoting Jesus, Tom Hanks proclaimed loudly: “Truth is sacred.”) We have here two possible translations of one Greek world: “hagiazo,” to sanctify or to consecrate, and the meaning of that Greek word is something like, to enter gradually and totally into the life of God. From this Gospel, the meaning we have is that the mission is not first but second, it comes from this inner gift promised by Ezechiel of God’s Spirit being with us, and inviting us to be with Him. This is why they are in the Cenacle, one in prayer before they will be sent for the Mission, waiting for the Gift of the Spirit so that the Mission will truly be God’s Mission. And here, I think we meet Mother Therese on something that was very important for her, but that is very hard to translate into English. The Cenacle Constitutions rightly say: this feast today “celebrates the mystery of prayerful expectation and waiting in retreat with Mary by the first assembly of the Church, directed to that outpouring of the Spirit which sent the apostles to the ends of the earth.” And they add: « We give witness to a good God, after our foundress who said that “God is good, even more than good, He is Goodness: Dieu est la Bonté même.” Your Holy Foundress also said: « The great means to enter the way of holiness is ‘se livrer’ to our good God,” adding: “Make the experience of it and you will see that it is the true happiness that we would seek in vain without it.” Is this not the Gospel of today, sanctification in truth? The only problem is the question that Saint Thérèse poses herself: “What does this mean, “se livrer”?” She admits, however, that “I understand the spaciousness of this word but I cannot explain it. It embraces present and future, it is more than to devote oneself or to give oneself, even more than to abandon oneself to God.” Wow, what does she really mean by this famous untranslatable French word? She tries her best to explain it: “It is to die to everything and to oneself, no longer to busy oneself with the self, except to hold the self always turned toward God. It is not to seek oneself in anything, neither for the temporal nor for the spiritual. No longer to seek our personal holiness, but only the good pleasure of God.” And she adds: “It is a spirit of detachment that does not hold on to anything, neither to people, to things, to time, to places. It is to accept all, to subject oneself to all.” Only the good pleasure of God… She explains further that it might look very difficult, but she insists: “There is nothing as easy to do as this. It only consists in making once only a generous act, saying in all sincerity: My God, I want to belong to you, accept my offering, and all is said. However, we need to remember that we have “given ourself.” And Mother Thérèse concludes: “If we could understand beforehand the sweetness and the peace that we feel when we do not put any restriction with

General, Homilies, Soul Food

Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday comes like a breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively. We gather in the less hot and humid evening air and sing the gloria with me wearing an immaculate white rather than somber purple stole. Our scripture readings this evening highlight Jesus performing two rituals marked by familiarity, affection, even intimacy. First, we recall Jesus’ last supper with his disciples, the Passover meal that celebrates Yahweh leading Israel out of slavery into freedom, and that binds them as his people. For us, this ritual meal taps beyond physical need and into all of our hunger and thirst for acceptance, community and equality. It also reminds us of the bonds that sharing a common meal creates. Thus, with our commemoration of the lord’s last Passover, every eucharist that we celebrate sums up all of our meals at table surrounded by family, friends and guests. Moreover, every meal we share—be it complete with pancit and lechon or spare with just kanin at galungong—becomes eucharist, a sacred meal. That is why our lolas would remind us, rowdy children around the dinner table, “hoy, igalang ninyo yung pagkain!” Second, Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet. This cleansing ritual by the teacher and master touches beyond the physical grime we gather along the way, and into purifying our hearts of the stains we smear each other with. It unmasks eager pretentions of fidelity like Peter’s, and reveals that Christian service is mutual, that is, “washing each other’s feet” including those of persons we euphemistically call ‘difficult.’ Apart from being intimate, even heart-warming, our holy Thursday rituals are signs that point beyond their ritual surface. With your kind permission, let me share two real stories. I wonder how many of us, Jesuits and Cenacle Sisters included, habitually (this is the operative word) think of saving this special piece of food for someone else, itong balunbalunan sa adobong manok o yung macaroons na paborito nitong si sr. X, y o z. (no names) [ad lib: story of husband accepting back an unfaithful wife] I find it hard to imagine what, after the husband opened the door to his wife, each following day was like for both of them, who have since remained together. My dear friends, beneath these holy Thursday rituals, what lies, almost hidden like Jesus’ divinity during his passion, are pure sacrifice, deprivation and even pain—in preparing, cooking and presenting food, in recognizing, accepting and welcoming at table and into our home those hungry in body and spirit for love and affection, in washing the grimy stains we have been used to, in living with the scars inflicted by others, in helping those near and far. These rituals then are also heart shattering. I take that word from a dear friend’s text message from San Francisco yesterday, about her teenage daughter’s suicide: “all our hearts are shattered.” Our sacrifice, deprivation and pain shatter our hearts, not because they are karma inflicted on us by the wheel of fate (some gulong ng palad), but because they are an offering of self to others, freely chosen and embraced. Like the sacred heart of Jesus, our hearts have become hearts of flesh, not stone, vulnerable and fragile until the end, hanggang masaid ang lahat sa kanyang krus. My dear friends, as we enact Jesus’ last Passover with his disciples and his washing of their feet, let us draw strength from his sacred shattered heart, offering our selves completely, as we struggle for unity in our communities, acceptance in our families and equality in our world.   Homily delivered by Fr. Mario Francisco, SJ at the Cenacle during the Mass of the Lord’s Supper 6 April 2023

Homilies

Fourth Sunday of Lent: “The Elder Son”

Whenever we hear this parable of the prodigal son, we would often think about the sinful behavior of the younger son and how he had to go through an experience of degradation before he realized that his proper place was to be at his father’s home. We are often moved by the touching encounter between the father and the younger son, where the sinful son receives the unconditional love and mercy of his father. It seemed like a story with a happy ending. But it is not the end of the story. In fact the real focus of the story is the elder son. We must remember that Jesus was telling this story to the scribes and Pharisees who are self-righteous and lacked compassion for sinners. Jesus wanted the scribes and Pharisees to see themselves as the elder son, and Jesus wanted to touch their hearts and make them realize that they are being called to forgive those who have committed great sins. The whole story is not really about asking forgiveness but it is a story that challenges us to forgive like the Father. It is easier to imagine ourselves to be like the younger son. We all had our experiences of sinfulness and the need to repent before the Lord. But we know that the Father will forgive us because we believe in his love for us. It is harder to place ourselves in the place of the elder son. It is so hard to forgive others who have sinned especially if we have tried very hard to be good. Like the Pharisees, we sometimes think that we have to earn the love of God and so we believe that if you work hard at being good God will love you more. If you are careless with your life, then you should receive less love and maybe even be punished. Shouldn’t the younger son repay the property that he had wasted? What guarantee do we have that the younger son will not sin again? Isn’t this they way we sometimes judge others? Isn’t this the way we often withhold our forgiveness from those who are sinful in our eyes. Like the elder son, we sometimes we think it is unfair for the Father to give the same love to a good person and a bad person. The parable does not tell us what the elder son did after his father asked him to accept his younger brother. Did the elder son join the family to welcome his brother? Did he stay with his anger and cut himself off from both his brother and his father? The ending is ours to make. Jesus did not put an easy ending to the parable because trying to forgive is not easy. It is something we ask the Lord to help us with. Just as Jesus appealed to the Pharisees and scribes to put away their self-righteousness, we are also being asked by the Lord, especially during this Lenten season, to allow compassion and reconciliation overcome any anger or judgment of others. Whenever we find ourselves in the place of the elder son, and are called to forgive a frequent or serious sinner, let us not forget that we too were treated with mercy and compassion by God. Just as God has loved us not according to what we deserve but according to what we need, let us also love others not according to what their sins deserve but according to what their souls need. (Homily of Fr. Ritchie Genilo, SJ on the Fourth Sunday of Lent, 27 March 2022)

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Let Christ easter in us

The resurrection isn’t simply about getting the message out in the most efficient way –  it is about individual transformation, one person at a time. That’s why the risen Jesus took the time to console Magdalene and walk with a couple of discouraged disciples to Emmaus.. appeared to the disciples in Jerusalem, he came back just to appear for Thomas who missed the chance to see him.. Our Lord always deals with us in a very personal way. He knows each of us so well and he understands our deepest desires and he knows what we truly need.

Homilies, Soul Food

Widow’s mite

Celebration of 60 years of religious life in the Cenacle of Sr. Lily Quintos, rc Homily of Fr. James Gascon at the Cenacle Retreat House, on Nov 11, 2018: A survey was once conducted in the United States. How much percentage of your income do you give to the Church and charities? The Gallup poll asked this question to 1000 population randomly selected per religious denomination. The Baptists gave an average of 5.6% of their income; the Jews 3.8%; the mainline protestants 2.4% and the Catholics, 1.4%. This survey was done in the States. I wonder what the result will be in the Philippines? I remember a story we used to tell each other when we were young. One time, the heroes of the Philippines had a shindig in heaven. All of them were present. Then their conversation started to verge on holiness. One of them asked, who is the holiest among us? Manuel Quezon proudly stood up and said, I recite the rosary every Saturday. Hmmm, he is indeed a holy person, said the crowd. Then Ninoy stood up and said, I carry a rosary in my pocket every day, and recite it. I learned that from the Ateneo. All those present started nodding, agreeing that he is indeed holier. Then out of the blue, Rizal stood up. And there was a commotion in the crowd. How can he be holier when he even wrote a lot of anti-church literature and even condemned the Catholic faith and the Spaniards? Then with pride, Rizal stood up and said, “I may not be reciting the rosary nor carrying it in my pocket every day despite my being an Atenean; I may have written a lot of literature against the Church. But who among you here go to Church and gets to attend each and every mass, even up to this very moment. So they begin asking, how do you do it? Then he said, I find myself inside the collection basket, with my face imprinted in every single one-peso coin.   The gospel reminds us today about our duty to giving. Giving is a holy virtue. In fact, Jesus himself gave and fulfilled the prescriptions of the law to give, as for example the temple tax and the many other Jewish prescriptions. But in here, he emphasizes an important point about giving. Contrary to what we often believe that the measure of giving is what is given, Jesus tells us that the value in giving is not on what is given. It is not how much we give that counts. Rather, it is who gives that counts. I have always reminded people that when it comes to giving, nothing can limit us but our own generosity. Therefore, every act of giving reveals the person of the giver. The value of what is given is relative to the giver, not in what is given. In the Gospel, Jesus praised the widow who contributed all she had. Despite the real value of the coins, it is the “most” important contribution precisely because of who gave them. Compared to the Scribes, the Pharisees, and the wealthy, who gave from their surplus, this widow gave what a poor person needs to survive. Value is relative to the giver. (tell of the story in parish).  I remember overhearing in a mass once. The old lady was telling her son, Oh, just give the smallest bill.   But I think a more important point of the Gospel is that when we give, we are giving of ourselves. We are reminded that we cannot hold on material things that we have, we have to give then away, all of them.We would do well to recall the question asked about the wealthy man who died. “How much money did he leave? The answer came promptly. “All of it!”. As Rousseau’s admonition goes, “When a man dies, he carries in his hands only that which he has given away.” Because when we give away what we have, what lingers in the receiver is our act of kindness of a generous person who has given himself away. Each of us is called to this giving—to make our hearts written in every heart that benefits from our generosity.   And that brings us to our celebration today, which is the third important point of the Gospel. That giving is about the giver, because when one is able to give, then he is able to proclaim a song of thanksgiving to the Lord of Givers. Then he experiences the being of God, the divine giver. Perhaps, I would dare say that Sister Lily is one of those widows in our midst who gave herself. Serving the Lord for sixty years, she gives thanks today to the Divine Giver. For this divine giver has enabled her to share what she received from him. She was able to share her talents, her treasures, her time in accompanying souls looking for the Giver. And even now, she continues to inspire in us a generous heart of a giver, that in the midst of our poverty, weakness, even dwindling health, we can still give of ourselves through inspiring generosity in each one.   Bertrand Russell wrote, “To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness.” Too often the comfortable give to God as though they were poor. And the poor give to Him as though they were wealthy. Let each one of us learn to give, because she who gives herself truly sings a song of thanksgiving.  And may this be the song that we sing today.        

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