Menu

homily

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)

Features, Homilies, Soul Food, Updates and Activities

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.        

Homilies, News & Announcements, Soul Food

The Extravagant God (Parable of the Seeds and the Sower)

Homily of Fr. Eric Genilo, SJ @Cenacle Retreat House, Sept 22, 2018 In the parable of the sower in our gospel, we notice something curious. The sower seems to scatter seeds indiscriminately. Not only do some of the seeds fall on fertile soil, some fall also on rocky or thorny soil. Normally, a farmer who sows seeds would be careful where he scatters his seeds. Seeds are costly for an ordinary farmer and he would not want to waste his seeds on rocky or thorny soil where they have little chance of growing to maturity. He would choose to scatter his seeds only on fertile soil where the probability of a more bountiful harvest is higher.  But in our parable, the sower is no ordinary farmer. The sower represents God and the seeds represent the word of God proclaimed to all who would hear and listen. The Indiscriminate way the sower in our parable scattered the seeds reflects the extravagance of God’s goodness and kindness. God does not just send his word to those who are already able and ready to respond with generosity. God also sends his word even to those who, because of their circumstances or their formation are unable to respond with their whole heart and whole strength. God’s word is not just for an elite group of perfect disciples. And we should never exclude some people from receiving God’s word simply because of their sinfulness and weakness. It precisely to the sinners and those rejected and marginalised by society that Jesus was sent to proclaim the good news of God. Let us not interpret our parable today as a justification to exclude and judge others as unworthy of receiving God’s word and God’s mercy because of their sinful situation. The extravagance of the sower in scattering the seeds on all kinds of soil reminds us that the word of God is meant for everybody and we should strive to overcome whatever obstacles or temptations that prevent others from receiving and living out the gift of God’s good news. God’s love and God’s grace are unlimited, and could never be exhausted. So we should not be troubled if some of our brothers and sisters are initially unresponsive to the invitation of God to them. Rather than consider God’s word as being wasted by on unresponsive persons, let us look at the bigger picture of God’s great plan of salvation. God’s spirit never ceases to speak in the hearts of every man and woman and through the mysterious ways of God’s grace each one eventually find their way back to God. We can help one another to find God and respond to his word. But ultimately it is God’s grace that will transform rocky and thorny soil to fertile and fruitful soil. Let us encourage and pray for one another as we strive to be more receptive to God’s word to us each day. May we support and encourage those who are weak among us and may we never forget the goodness and faithfulness of God for all his children.      

Homilies, Soul Food

The Sower and the seeds (Homily)

Homily of Fr. Oliver Dy, S.J. on July 27, 2018 at the  Cenacle Retreat House:   I wish to share three points drawn from the Gospel reading for today, which is an explanation by Jesus and by the early church of the text of the parable of the sower: First, it is in very nature and task of the sower to sow, and this amidst the full knowledge that not all seeds sown will bear fruit, that some seeds, sometimes even many seeds, would be wasted. Yet the sower continues to sow: the Father’s generosity as a sower of blessings and graces does not depend on whether human freedom appreciates or neglects the gifts bestowed by God to each in his own wisdom and love. It is the very nature of God to give Godself. Indeed, to perpetually diffuse goodness is the very act that defines God as God. God remains a sower, a generous giver, regardless of the eventual fate of the seed in its interaction with the conditions related to the mystery of human freedom. Elsewhere in the gospel, Jesus states that the Father makes the sun shine on both the good and the bad; here Jesus makes the same point by describing the Father as a sower who sows in the face of the reality that not all seeds will produce the intended fruit. There is an implicit invitation here for us. If we allow ourselves to become perfected just as the Father is perfect, we too must continue to sow seeds of life to the world, to be life-giving like the Father amidst the likelihood and reality of failure and waste of human energies. After all, the main point of the parable is success and abundance, and this also an irremovable possibility that belongs to the same mystery of human freedom. There is the rich soil that promise a harvest. There is the guarantee and promise of fruitfulness, but this is preconditioned on the fact that there is a Father who sows seeds goodness always and everywhere.   Second, what God bestows comes in form of a seed, not a sapling, much less a fully grown plant. Inscribed into the very character of a seed is the law of growth. It belongs to the very biology of the seed to transform itself in due time into something other than a seed: that is, the seed dies to its being a seed in order to truly become itself. The harvest is thereforeborne of out of this process of transformation and growth where the death of seed leads to its becoming a fruit-bearing plant. The call is therefore never remain a seed, not to let the seed stagnate as seed, but to let it flow with inscribed law of growth of which dying is a fundamental part. (Unless the grain of wheat falls to the earth dies can it only then bear fruit.)   Third, as an agriculturalist may tell us, soil is a transformable material. An infertile ground can be transformed into rich soil, and a plot of rich soil can eventually lose its quality of fertility. A desert can become a forest, and a forest a desert. Things can change. This suggests that we should not despair too easily if we find the soil of our lives to be barren. Likewise, neither should we be too presumptuous when we presently find our life circumstances as rich soil. Situations and contexts can and do shift over time, sometimes for the better, at other times for the worse. The lesson is to live in hope, which is the virtue that runs diametrically opposite depair on the one hand, and overconfident presumption on the other. To live in hope is to respect the changing seasons and landscapes of the pilgrimage of life, to always remain in the identity of being a wayfarer, to keep walking on the journey whatever one’s situation in life is, in whatever season or phase of life one currently finds oneself in (homo viator, status viatoris).   In sum, here then are three takeaways: 1. The law of generous self-giving amidst the reality of waste and failure. 2. The law of growth in the face of the temptation of stagnation and self-preservation. 3. The law of hope amid the vicissitudes of human history, both individual and collective.

General, Homilies, Soul Food, Updates and Activities

A permanent & unshakable character of God – Santo Niño

Homily from Fr. Arnel Aquino S.J. on January 20, 2018, Feast of Sto. Niño, Holy Child Jesus, at the Cenacle Retreat House. On the 1st week of the new year, I went home to Davao to visit with my dad for a week. One day, I decided to walk from the Jesuit Residence to San Pedro Cathedral. My mom used to love hearing mass there. The church is a good walk, around 2.5, 3 km from the JesRes. So walk I did, one Sunday afternoon, to catch the 5:30 Cebuano mass. Just 5 minutes into my walk, a little girl, about 1/3 of my height, broke into my direction, walking a few paces in front of me. From the way the little girl walked—which was really more of an “advanced toddle”—she must’ve been around 4 years old. She was in rags, too, so easily a street urchin, but cute as button like all kids her age—curly hair, fat cheeks, feet like little pandesals! And, my God, she was going at a good clip, because as I kept my pace, I wasn’t gaining on her. Ten minutes in, the little girl was still walking, no sign of stopping or turning back; no sign of anyone coming to meet her. So it struck me silly to realize this child was really alone! And she & I were the only ones going my direction at the time. Or maybe I didn’t notice the others because I was busy being roped in to watch over the little girl. Ten minutes in, she was still walking. For a 4-yr-old, that’s a pretty long time & a pretty long way. I very strongly felt the urge to catch up with her & assume full responsibility, but I didn’t, because I was so curious to find out (a) where she was headed all by her lonesome, & (b) why there wasn’t a hint of “lost-ness” or fear or panic in her at all. On the contrary, she looked like she knew exactly what she was doing & where she was headed. “Still,” said my superego, “she’s just a 4-year-old kid, are you blind?” Before I knew it, she had gone off the sidewalk, crossed the street, & disappeared into a crowd on the other side. Minutes later, I couldn’t concentrate on the mass. I swore I’d probably have never lived it down if news the next day said “4-year-old girl found dead on C.M. Recto St.” When you see a child—especially one who “looks” alone, or “seems” alone—the first question in your head is: “Sinong magulang ng batang ito?” Why? Because if we think “sea” & immediately think water, if we think desert & immediately think dry, if we think “breathe” & immediately think air—when we think & see a child, we immediately think relationship, relatedness. That’s why there’s nothing sadder than an orphaned child, or a foundling. Deep in all human hearts, a child must never be alone. A child immeidately calls forth relationship, relatedness, connection. This is the first reason why I think the feast of the Santo Niño is important in our faith, sisters & brothers. The Santo Niño is the “infant-God,” the “child-God” who reminds us of a permanent & unshakable character of God which we often forget or take for granted: that immediately & once & for all, God is related to us, immediately & once & for all, connected to us, in a relationship with us, as his free choice, out of his free love. I wish to emphasize this, dear sisters & brothers, because many of us do not often think of God as immediately & once & for all related to us, in a relationship with us, loving us. Our default is often an image of God “above” us, isolated in all his power, like a benevolent overlord, a patient  prefect of discipline, a quiet moral policeman—all of which are “official” terms but hardly relational terms. That’s why we need the feast of the Santo Niño, & quite desperately so. It’s the infant-God’s way of reminding us who he is in his very essence: a God who is freely, immediately, & once & for all related to us, connected to us, in a relationship with us. If we take that seriously, it should make many of us turn a corner in our faith & religiosity. And just like it’s unnerving to see a 4-year-old child walking alone, it should unnerve us if we’ve always believed that God, to be God, should be asunder from us. Because, you & I know that he never is. No, not even when we sin. God never disconnects even if we do. You’ve also heard it said many times that the Christ-child reminds us of how deeply, vulnerably human Jesus was. Allow me to add a little something to that. When I saw the vulnerable little girl that Sunday afternoon, she made me feel vulnerable. Even if she & I were related in no way, shape, or form—her being just a child on a sidewalk straightaway roped me in, to assume some way, shape, or form of responsibility over her. Unbeknownst to her, she committed me to a very basic connection, a fundamental responsibility. Suddenly, I was disturbed by the challenge to care, to go beyond my comfort zone, to change direction; all of which I did not do that afternoon, because, shame on me, I was “running late”,  headed on a straight path to, of all places, church. That’s the 2nd reason I realized why the feast of the Santo Niño is important to us, dear sisters & brothers. Not only is an “infant-God” immediately & once & for all related to us—that relationship must make us feel vulnerable enough so that we do our part in it: to assume responsibility over it, to care for even the most fundamental connection, to push beyond our comfort zones or even change direction if needed…& in my case, vulnerable enough to feel deeply terrible if we don’t,

Scroll to Top