Sunday Mornings

Christian Must Help Put Closure to the History of Suffering

2012-01-30T11:45:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B, Mark 1:29-39, February 6, 2012

IF ONE TAKES a bleak look at the world, he will see that the present, like the past, is a story of suffering and evil. There is much experience of evil that we read from the accounts in newspapers, magazines and the internet, and hear from the reports on television and the radio—suffering that stems from injustice, hunger, poverty, unemployment, deprivation of freedom, abuse of human rights, wars and natural calamities. And there is the suffering that is unseen—hiding behind the smile of a prostitute, the clown and the movie star and behind the joyful scenes that people upload in social networks, like Facebook.

In the 1st Reading (Job 7:1-4.6-7), Job found himself in a similar situation: the experience of so much suffering. Eliphaz told him that his suffering resulted from his unfaithfulness to Yahweh, for prosperity and joy come from faithfulness (Job 4:7). Of course, this is a popular understanding that unfortunately is very common even among Christians. If one prospers, this is counted as reward from God for something good one has done; if one suffers, God must have given punishment for an evil deed one has committed. Job, however, protested against such theology, for he has, as far as he knew, been faithful to God, and yet he suffered (Job 23:11). This probably explains why, as we notice from the 1 st Reading, Job had a negative view of life and his world (Job 7:1-3).

In today's Gospel, however, we are told that God's will is not suffering and evil; on the contrary, it has happiness and peace. It may be recalled that, last Sunday, it was noticed Jesus' word had authority and power (Mark 1:27), and in the concrete, it had power to save (cf Jas 1:21). In the Gospel, which continues to tell us what Jesus did in Capernaum, we see that Jesus' preaching of the Kingdom of God includes saving people from suffering. The Kingdom of God was not only preached; it was also being made present in his healing and exorcism ministry. For example, he cured Peter's mother-in-law of fever (Mark 1:30), and expelled many demons (v 39), both of which being considered as manifestations of the demonic power. Here we see the meaning of the preaching of the word: it is delivered in order to defeat the forces and manifestations of evil, save us from suffering, and let us thereby experience the joy and happiness of the Kingdom. The word is thus meant to effect transformation in our personal lives and in the life of the community.

Being a bearer of the word in virtue of his incorporation into Christ through baptism, the Christian has a vocation to alleviate human suffering and free his fellowmen from the experience of evil. As at baptism he has been freed from the clutches of the Devil, he has to use the power given him to free others from Satan's bondage. This is the call which Peter's mother-in-law received. She was healed of her infirmity through Jesus' word, and so she began to serve (v 30). Having heard and having been formed by the word of God, a Christian therefore has a responsibility to break the history of suffering.

The 2nd Reading also gives us an example of Paul himself. As a follower of Christ, he felt it was his obligation to preach the gospel (1 Cor 9:16). And what was his purpose? To save: "I have become all things to all, to save at least some. All this I do for the sake of the gospel, so that I, too, may have a share in it" (1 Cor 9:22-23). Like Paul, we, Christians, have the calling to preach the word with power. We have to show that our belief in the Word makes us servants and partners in accomplishing Christ's work of effecting liberation and happiness to men who suffer. Like Peter's mother-in-law, we exercise our discipleship in roles of lowly service to heal the world of sin and suffering.

In our recent history, the Acquired Immunity Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) is an example of evil that has engulfed the lives of thousands of men and women. The Christian has the duty to show that his being a disciple of Jesus can help the world be freed from evil not only by looking after the needs of AIDS victims, putting the service of science and technology to discover a cure for it, but also by making his own life the preached word. He shows, for example, that a chaste life, a life that knows faithfulness to one's wife and abstinence on Fridays is a way of defeating the forces of current evils. Fittingly enough, only recently, the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) issued a pastoral letter on AIDS late last year (2011), to create awareness among people, because the diseases is taking a heavy toll in terms of human lives. Much has to be done to put an end to the epidemic; obviously, condom is not the solution. The Christian community has much to contribute to halt the increase of incidence.

To be sure, we can always describe the world in terms of history of negative experiences, but such history need not be one of continual suffering. Evil in history must be put to an end. Christians have a vocation to shift its course because they themselves have experienced pockets of salvation effected by the Word. And God's will to happiness will become effective when we ourselves allow him to use us as his instruments--through which the power and authority of the Word work to make the world a better place to live in, in transforming the world so it may concretely mirror the vision of the Kingdom of God.

The Word of Jesus--Laden with Power and Authority

2012-01-25T06:16:00.001+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fourth Sunday of Year B, Mark 1:21-28. January 29, 2012.

WHEN SOME POLITICIANS expound their platform and make promises during election campaigns, many people do not care to listen, even though they hear them speak. For them, their talks are merely part of the political rigmarole and circuses. Their speeches are grand, but their words are empty. In fact, they have become cynical to these politicians because they know that for the most part the latter's words and promises are never fulfilled. To put it differently, what they utter are devoid of authority. Hence, people hardly believe their words, which are scarcely any guide for them to listen and follow. Of course, some of those with empty words do win in elections, but that is because of things that do not come from the upper orifice, which are translated into votes. Even so, their words remain empty, and so they do not deliver the goods. Meanwhile, the people remain in the morass of evil.

But it is God's will that all be saved from evil and come to the knowledge of the truth (1 Tim 2:4). For this reason, he raised prophets to speak his word. Because they speak for God, their words have authority. These are powerful. The Bible characterizes these words as having “exousia”, which means authority and power. The prophet Isaiah compares the word of God with the rain and its effects: "For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down, and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to him who sows and bread to him who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it" (Isa 55:10-11). Thus, the word of the prophet Ahijah about Jeroboam (1 Kgs 14:10) was fulfilled: the entire house of Jeroboam was utterly killed off, "according to the warning which the Lord had pronounced through his servant, Ahijah, the Shilonite" (1 Kgs 15:29). Because the word of God has authority and power, it can destroy, as Jeremiah says (Jer 1:10), but it can also save: "the word that has been planted in you… is able to save your souls" (Jas 1:21).

In the century before the time of Jesus, it seemed to the Jews that God has stopped communicating his powerful word: "There had not been such great distress in Israel since the time prophets ceased to appear among the people" (1 Macc 9:27). The Jews were dependent on scribes who were experts of the Law of Moses and were called rabbis. They extracted rules and principles from the Torah for daily living, taught and transmitted the Law and its development, and gave judgment. Nevertheless, the Jews kept hoping that God would send his prophet again: "The Jewish people and their priest have made the following decisions: Simon shall be their permanent leader and high priest until a true prophet arises…" (1 Macc 14:41). After all they were assured—the 1st Reading tells us—of God's promise to send a prophet: "I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their kinsmen, and will put words into his mouth; he shall tell them all I have commanded him" (Deut 18:18).

In today's Gospel, Mark would have us understand that by his coming, Jesus fulfilled this prophecy in Deuteronomy and the Jewish expectation. And elsewhere in the New Testament, we are told that God has finally spoken to us through his Son (Heb 1:1). In Jesus the Word, therefore, we have an infallible guide for human thinking and living, and a power to salvation. The Gospel tells us how Jesus spoke: "The people were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes… All were amazed and asked one another, 'What is this? A new teaching with authority. He commands even the unclean spirits and they obey him'" (Mark 1:27).

This poses the question: now that Jesus is taken up to the heavens, through whom does God speak with authority to us? God speaks his authoritative word through the Scriptures: "All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that one who belongs to God may be competent, equipped for every good work" (2 Tim 3:16). The Gospel remains powerful, as is shown in Thessalonica, where it came to the people in power and in the holy spirit, and they became imitators of Paul and Jesus himself (1 Thess 1:5-9). That is why the Bible is important to us. Also, God speaks through the ministers of the Church, who have been charged to preach the Gospel (2 Tim 4:2-5) to move us. And, according to the 2nd Reading, he likewise speaks to us through those persons, married or unmarried, who by their lives prophesy here and now the possibilities of the life to come (1 Cor 7:35).

The New Social Order That Jesus Began to Establish for His People

2012-01-19T06:34:00.003+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Third Sunday of Year B, Mark 1:14-20, January 22, 2012.

IF CHIEF JUSTICE Corona is on trial at the Impeachment Court, this is due to the vision of President Aquino to help create a Filipino society that is free of a culture of corruption, especially at the top, and of a culture of impunity. Leaders and prophets usually envision for their people a form of society that addresses the pains and sufferings of the present and immediate past. To be sure, at all levels of life—international, national, local and even personal--we all experience the negative: oppression, deceit, fear, destruction, war, suffering and death. Because of these negative experiences, we all wish to construct a better world. After the war of the allied forces against Iraq, George Bush spoke of establishing a new order. After the exile of the Jews, Isaiah had a vision of a new earth. During the industrial revolution, Karl Marx posited a classless society where the poor will come into their own. At the personal level, most of us try to achieve our vision of our own future: secure, full of milk and honey. Knowing that, in a sense, this is not the best of all possible worlds, and that a better world is possible, we try to envision it and put that vision into some concrete programs.

Today's Gospel is about Jesus' proclamation of a new social order: the Kingdom of God. In the Old Testament, this order is captured, among others, by the symbol of a new Jerusalem where God tenders a banquet: "On this mountain the Lord of hosts will provide for all peoples a feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines" (Isa 25:5). And Jesus sometimes used the same picture for the Kingdom: "And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and you yourselves cast out. And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God" (Luke 13:28-29). This image embodies what all of us hope for—love, brotherhood, forgiveness, peace and happiness among men in the community. This was the center of Jesus' preaching, his life and even his death. But this new social order was not just a dream; it was a reality that began to be realized in Jesus, in his life and ministry. Moreover, it was not simply an otherworldly reality. On the contrary, Jesus made it clear that the Kingdom was to be experienced in this world, in the here and now. And he invited us to be part of this social order.

But what are we to do in response to the invitation? To be part of it, we have to pay the price. Though it has broken through in Jesus, it will not spill over to us unless we take two steps: first, we need to repent, and second, we have to believe in Jesus and his Kingdom. Like Jonah who—according to the 1st Reading--preached repentance to the inhabitants of Nineveh (Jonah 3:4-5), Jesus required us to repent: "This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the gospel" (Mark 1:15). Repentance is more than just being sorry for our sins. The Greek word, metanoein, literally means "to change one's mind," but as in the New Testament, it is close to the Hebrew shubh, which means to turn about, to return to Yahweh, and this presupposes a deep understanding of the nature of sin (Joel 2:12-13). It is a 180 degrees turn-around: "Wash yourselves clean! Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil, learn to do good. Make justice your aim; redress the wronged, hear the orphan's plea, defend the widow" (Isa 1:16-17).

Repentance, therefore, means the setting aside of the past and the embracing of a new life. To embrace a new life means to embrace a community life in discipleship. That is how we express our faith in Jesus. Discipleship of the community is the translation of our faith into deeds. The Kingdom of God will come if we respond to his invitation (Mark 1:17), and follow the requirements of discipleship: "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me" (Mark 8:34). In communal discipleship, our concern is the Kingdom of God and its values: "Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you besides: (Matt 6:33).

This demands reordering of our heart and affection, our purposes and goals, our priorities and loyalties in the community. Only if we are willing to pay the price can we participate in this new social order, in which people experience the positive in community life—love, brotherhood, forgiveness, justice and peace, as Jesus so promised: "Amen I say to you, there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age: houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and eternal life in the age to come" (Mark 10:28-30).

To Be a Child of the Kingdom (Like the Santo Niño) Is To Accept Humiliation, Powerlessness and Poverty

2012-01-13T10:42:00.004+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Feast of Santo Niño (Mark 10, 13-16),
January 15, 2012

ONE WILL PROBABLY find little difficulty in claiming that the cardinal is his uncle, the governor is his cousin, or the bar topnotcher is his best friend. But most likely, it will not be easy for him to openly admit that a certain prostitute is his sister, a convicted murder is a nephew, or street bum is his grandfather. For, in identifying himself with the powers that be, with those at the top of the social ladder, one feels that this raises his dignity a few notches above the herd of humanity. On the other hand, who would dare to add disgrace to one’s misery? But if the feast of Santo Niño has any message to tell us about being at the top or below with the miserable in the context of the Gospel, it is that we are never truly human, nor are we spiritually children of God, unless we are able to accept as brothers and sisters those rejected by the normal society.

Although today’s Gospel is about Jesus’ blessing of children (Mark 10:13-16), it is very likely that Mark saw some other significance in this narrative. Let us, to begin with, look at the story in its proper literary context. It is interesting to note that Mark has three predictions of the passion. (For Mark, to follow Jesus is to follow him on the road to his passion.) Each time Jesus uttered a prediction, there follows stories which betray a misunderstanding on the part of the disciples who heard them. Today’s Gospel comes after the second prediction. Together with this story of the blessing of children are the narratives on the question of divorce and on the danger of riches. In the story on the issue of divorce, the disciples could not understand why what God has joined could not be separated (Mark 10:10). And in the story of the rich man, the disciples were overwhelmed at the declaration that it is easier for a rich man to pass through the eye of a needle than for a wealthy man to enter the kingdom of heaven.

But what is the difficulty in Jesus’ saying, “It is to such as these [children] that the kingdom of God belongs”?

To understand it, we may recall that in the Palestinian Society of Jesus’ time, children were never given importance. The society was the world of the adults. Children had no rights; in fact, they were considered property of their father. A child is thus a symbol not of humility but of unimportance. One is nothing before the world of men. He has nothing to boast. He is empty. Hence, theologically, to be a child is to empty oneself of what he is, which is akin to what is known in Patristics as kenosis. Literally, this means empty, but this usually refers to the action of Christ described in Phil 2:6-7: “Though he was in the form of God, he did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. He was known to be of human estate, and it was thus that he humbled himself, obediently accepting death, death on a cross!” That is to say, though equal with God in rank, Jesus put that rank aside. Though as God the highest honor belongs to him, he assumed the lowest rank of humanity, that of a slave. Though innocent, he accepted the punishment of the guilty. Thus, to be a child of God is to move from riches to nothingness, from powerful to powerlessness, from honor to humiliation, from the regal to slavery.

What Jesus did, and our tendency to identify with those at the top—these crystallize that there are two movements in human life: upward and downward. In the upward movement, we tend to accept honor and praise, we like to assume high position in society, and we delight in building towers that reach the high heavens for recognition. As we noted at the beginning of this essay, most of us do not recoil from such movement. But what is difficult to accept is the downward movement. This occurs when we become miserable, when we suffer defeat or humiliation, or are demoted, when we go down from the top to the lower rung of society. Viewed from this angle, for God to become a child, to empty oneself is to experience such movement. Part of that movement is loving the poor. And Jesus did not only give to the poor, nor simply sympathize with them. To love them, he became one with them. To love the miserable, he experienced their misery. Jesus loved us by becoming one of us, accepting human limitations, and even human misery.

That makes being a child difficult. We recoil at the thought of it, because we are scared of emptiness, loneliness, suffering and death. We backpedal because we are afraid of losing our self-importance, we are afraid to let go of our securities. As in the story of the young man who wanted to gain eternal life (Mark 10:17-27), our face may fall if Jesus challenges us to make ourselves children of the kingdom. With the apostles, we might exclaim, “Who then can be saved?” But Jesus’ answer was to the point: “For man, it is impossible, but not for God. With God all things are possible” (Mark 10:27). This simply means that to accept the kingdom of God like a child is a gift. It is God’s gift. It would not be easy for us, left to ourselves, to make a downward movement. We tend to cling to ourselves, and to what is ours. Indeed, many of us even tend to take for themselves what belongs to others. We are basically selfish. But God can move us. He can give us this gift, and enable us to embrace poverty rather than riches, misery rather than opulence, humiliation rather than honor, to be at the last rather than at the first before the eyes of men. With God, we can even rejoice at our failure and defeat, at our suffering and death. With him, we can be real children of God. Like the Santo Niño.

Encountering Jesus in the Signs of His Presence in the Church

2012-01-03T19:32:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel on the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord (Matt 2:1-12), January 8, 2012

IT HAS COME to our knowledge that a number of Catholics have recently embraced “born-again” Christianity and Protestant Fundamentalism. Of course, there are various reasons for this phenomenon, some psychological, others sociological. But if there is anything of interest to us this Sunday, it has to do with the claim made by former Catholics that in “born-again” Christianity and Fundamentalism, they have been in the Bible truths that were not given to them in Catholicism. Some would even assert that it was only in their new found religion that they have found Jesus—with the implication, of course, sometimes wickedly intended, that Catholic Christianity does not preach Jesus or the Bible, because all it propagates is her own “traditions”. But the Gospel on the feast of the Epiphany, when God manifested himself to all peoples, can enlighten us on how Catholics should respond to this issue.

But before going into it, let us first unravel the meaning of the Gospel account in relation to the celebration. Basically, the meaning of today’s feast is that Epiphany prefigures the conversion of pagans to Christ. Thus, one may note that early in Paul’s ministry, for instance, Gentiles were already accepting the Word of the Lord (Acts 13:47-48). In the account of Matthew, the magi represent the gentiles. Though tradition, under the influence of some biblical text, portrays them as kings, they were most likely astrologers or magicians rather than astronomers. And the problem that Matthew intends to answer is this: How did the magi come to know the truth about the birth of the Messiah? Astrologers as they were, they observed the movements of the heavenly bodies and interpreted them according to their craft. Believing that there was something more to the phenomenon about the star they were witnessing, they used their knowledge to read what God wanted them to know. For, as Paul himself asserts, God’s plan can be read from creation: “invisible realities, God’s eternal power and divinity, have become visible, recognized through the things he has made” (Rom 1:20).

In other words, they believed, and acted on their belief according to their craft. And in using the resources available to them, the magi were led to Jerusalem where, through the priests, the experts of the Scriptures, whom Herod summoned to his palace, they were to identify exactly where the new-born Messiah could be. That is to say, from the revelation of God in creation, they came to the knowledge of his revelation in the Scriptures through the prophet Micah: “And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the princes of Judah, since from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel” (Mic 5:1; 2 Sam 5:2). Through this scriptural passage, they were able to clarify what had been vaguely revealed to them in the heavenly bodies and their movement—the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, in the land of Judah.

The journey of the magi challenges us to ask: have we found God? How do we find him? Of course, it is truer to say that, most of the time, it is God who finds us. And even when we flee him, he still finds us, as Francis Thomson reminds us in his classic poem, “The Hound of Heaven.” Ordinarily, however, we look for him. And if the magi account has any lesson to teach us in this regard, it is that we can find him through what is ordinarily available to us. As the Bible itself points out, “for from the greatness and beauty of created things their original author, by analogy, is seen” (Wisd 13:5). God, in other words, is not always to be found in the miraculous, in the out of the ordinary. We can find him through our communities and through what is happening around us. Indeed, everywhere we go, God is there (Ps 137:9). Our task is simply to read the signs of his presence (cf Luke 12:54). And we do it with faith. And what we encounter in the community, in our environment, we should see it in the light of God’s Word, because the Scriptures, being the light (Ps 119:105), clarify it.

This brings us to the problem posed at the beginning of this homily. For us, Catholics, one lesson that the story of the magi gives us is that, to find Jesus, it is not necessary to move to other religion or embrace a sect or cult. In the Christian community, in the Church, we have enough ways by which we can encounter God, we have many signs of Christ’s presence. In our liturgical celebration, for instance, he is present in the person of the minister, in the community itself, in the word that is read from the ambo, and most especially, in the sign of the bread and wine. But as in the story of the magi, we cannot recognize his presence unless we have faith that God reveals himself through these signs.

But in addition to having faith, it is likewise necessary to act on our belief that God reveals himself through these liturgical signs. Take, for instance, his presence in the word. The “born-again” and fundamentalism mantra that “Catholicism does not preach the Bible but its human traditions” is utterly false. Everyday, the Scripture is read in the liturgy. Catholics are encouraged to own the Bible and read it. Bible study groups are available, and various forms of literature are published to help study the Word of God. But the problem is, even though we have the sign of Scriptures, many are not interested to open its treasures. It is simply pathetic to know that some “born-again” Christians would claim that they never have been taught about the Bible in the Catholic Church when in fact they never avail themselves of the ways to study the Scriptures when they were still under the Catholic fold. They failed to notice that the Bible has a prominent place in the Catholic Church. They are like the Jews in today’s Gospel from Matthew’s Infancy Narrative who had the Scriptures, but never know of the birth of the Messiah. As Jesus says in the Johannine debate with the Jews, “search the Scriptures in which you think you have eternal life; they also testify on my behalf. Yet, you are unwilling to come to me to possess that life” (John 5:39-40).

In the final result, what we really need is the faith of the Magi. Just as the magi were able to find the Messiah because they believed in the sign that God gave them, and relentlessly pursued the implication of their faith, so we Catholics need not only to possess faith in the signs of his presence that God gave to the Church, but also action to make that faith alive, meaningful to our personal life and that of the community, and to enable us to account for that faith before people, like the “born-again” Christians and fundamentalists, who need to be enlightened about what we believe in. Without that kind of performative faith, we will continue to have Catholics who, for instance, are more eager for miracles of healing and for spectacular performances than for the reception of the everyday miracle
of the Eucharist in the daily Mass.

What Appears Foolish to Men Shows the Wisdom of God

2011-12-15T08:33:00.001+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year B, Luke 1:26-38, December 18, 2011

A FEW WEEKS after the Marcoses were unseated in February 1986, many books were written about the four-day Edsa Revolution. One of the interesting features of the event, as narrated in several books, is that the outcome was far cry from what many actors of the event hoped to transpire, and the scenario many political analysts thought would take place. As is well known, Juan Ponce Enrile, together with Gregorio Honasan, Red Kapunan and the RAM had their own plans of what to do with the Marcos machinery. They had their own timetable. Of course, their plan failed, for what came off was People Power—a scenario which the communists and military adventurers never thought of. Indeed, even when the Edsa event continued to unfold, many political analysts came to the conclusion that it was highly probable that the communists would profit in the end. But they were wrong. No one thought of it—but People Power was born. And for a man of faith, this illustrates what the wisdom of God means (Rom 16:27). And it came as a surprise.

The First Reading and the Gospel can be seen in this perspective. Both focus on the wisdom of God. Of this wisdom, Isaiah puts it beautifully: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above yours, and my thoughts above your thoughts” (Isa 55:1-9). In the first half (1 Sam 7:1-5) of the Old Testament reading today, we are told that David wanted to build a house for the Lord. Realizing that he was living in a house of cedar while the Ark of the Covenant dwelt in a tent, the King proposed to build a temple for God (2 Sam 7:2). No doubt, it was a wise move on the part of David—even Nathan the prophet thought so. But his intention, however noble, failed, because God had a different plan in his mind; it was his son, Solomon, who would do the building (2 Sam 7:13-14). God had his own wisdom which David never anticipated. On the other hand, God’s plan for David—which the latter never envisaged, however wise he was—was to maintain the dynasty of David in perpetuity: “Your house and your kingdom shall endure for ever before me; your throne shall stand firm for ever” (2 Sam 7:16).

In today’s Gospel, we are furnished with another example of God’s wisdom at work. In Luke’s account of the transcendental origin of Jesus, Mary most likely thought that her marriage to Joseph would be no different from any normal marriage between a man and a woman. But God had a different mind about their marriage: it would be his vehicle in the incarnation of God. When the archangel, Gabriel, told her of God’s plan, Mary raised an objection: “How can this be since I do not know man?” (Luke 1:34). Obviously, Mary thought that she could not conceive God’s Son because no one had ever touched her. But the angel replied that her conception would have no precedent in human history, because the Holy Spirit would overshadow her. To conceive without having sexual intercourse is an impossibility; but the angel assured her that “nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37). If the birth of Jesus did not follow the human course of things, it is because, in the words of Edward Hoskyns, it is “a dagger thrust into the weft of human history.” God’s ways are simply different from man’s, his wisdom is beyond human contingencies and plans.

This has a profound lesson for us. We are now in the age of computers which ushered in a culture of precision. In this culture, everything seems to be predictable. Almost nothing is left to chance. Some even hardly tolerate human error. There seems to be a common belief that we are in control of the future. It is probably not an exaggeration to say that we depend on our own wisdom so much that we hardly conceive that God may have a different plan for us. Yet, our experience shows that how the Church grows and develops, for example, does not reflect our own human wisdom. Very frequently, ours does not succeed. It happens many times that our own wisdom fails, and eventually we realize that in our failure God’s wisdom is manifested. And this brings us to the point. It is important that in our lives, we give space for God. We have to agree to his own plan, and this often requires that we scrape out our own, however well-laid. Like Mary, we have to say “yes” to his will (Luke 1:39), even when this is opaque to our understanding and goes beyond our own wisdom. After all, he made the Number One enemy of the early Christians the Number One “propagandist” of Jesus Christ—St Paul. The early Christians had a view of Paul that never coincided with God’s, but it is always God’s wisdom that prevails in the end. We might be wise, but God is far wiser than we are. What appears as wisdom to man, is sometimes shown as foolishness before God.*

Do Other People Recognize God's Presence in the World Through Our Christian Life?

2011-12-09T03:53:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Third Sunday of Advent, Year B, John 1:6-8; 19-28, December 11, 2011

IT IS PROBABLY not an exaggeration to say that, of all mortals, those whose names are well known are showbiz celebrities and politicians. Almost to a man, both are eager to publish their names and everything they do, and writers are even paid to promote their self-importance. Probably, no mortals crave to have the spotlight focused on them than these two groups of people. No deed of theirs is so small to pass unnoticed. Of some politicians, it could be said that while alive, they name buildings and streets after them through people loyal to them. Notices are put up on government projects to say that these are being undertaken through their efforts. How they wish, one can only conclude about their frame of mind, they were always in the limelight, the center of attention of their followers and fans! And funny that some of them would even view themselves as larger than life.

In the Bible, God alone is the center of life. It is incumbent upon people, as creatures, to recognize how he works in history. Though God is transcendent, he is involved in the affairs of men. In his plan to share his life with them, he raised up a people to be his own to proclaim his deeds in history. By recognizing him as the only Lord and God, men can experience wholeness and integrity in their individual and communitarian life. (On the other hand, the lordship of men over others will only bring evils to the community.) It is for this reason that God raised prophets. The prophets proclaim that the caring and loving God is present among his people, and that he is working on their behalf. Thus, in the First Reading (Isa 61:1-2.9-11), Isaiah says that he was anointed by God to proclaim a new order which God is giving to those who had been exiled to Babylon: glad tidings to the poor, healing to the brokenhearted, liberty to captives, release to prisoners, comfort to those who mourn and a year of favor to all. He will ultimately establish justice upon the earth (Isa 61:1-2.11).

In all this, however, it is important to notice that in so proclaiming, Isaiah identifies himself as God’s servant who points not to himself but to the saving deeds of Yahweh among his people.

In the Gospel (John 1:6-8.19-28), we meet another prophet by the name of John the Baptizer. God is sending the true light to the world to enlighten men so that, once they accept the light, they will be empowered to become children of God (John 1:11-12). By accepting the light, men will receive light. When John came on the scene, preaching God’s word and calling them to repentance, people flocked to him in big numbers. He was an instant celebrity. And were he a politician, he could have utilized his popularity, and initiated a personality cult around him. But he did not. He never capitalized on his reputation. Asked by the priests and Levites from Jerusalem, he did not claim to be a Messiah (anointed by God), or an Elijah returned to earth (Mal 3:23), or a prophet like Moses (Deut 18:15.18). Rather, like Isaiah’s, his mission was to let people realize what God was active among them: that God sent his Son, the true light, and his job is simply to testify to the light (John 1:8). He was the voice in the desert prophesied by Isaiah to prepare for the coming of the true light, the Messiah.

Such is the call of every Christian, and of every Christian community—we are called to proclaim his saving deeds, we are called to be witnesses to the true light, Christ himself. Just as John the Baptizer proclaimed what God was doing among his people, so we must proclaim what God is doing in the community and in the world. And the witness to his living presence is our life itself. John the Baptizer’s appearance betrayed that he came from God. The same should be true of our life. It should point to what God is doing in our midst, among the people we are part of. There are various ways of doing this, and one of them is to be sensitive to the events happening in our midst. In these events, we can recognize what God wants to say to us. Here we become like road signs—people can point to us as signs of what real life is all about. We do not stand in the middle of the road. We are readable and clear signs of how God works in our present history.

Matthew puts it this way: “Your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father” (Matt 5:16). John has something akin to this: “But he who acts in truth comes into the light, to make clear that his deeds are done in God” (John 3:21). The focus of other people’s attention is not we, who are merely signposts, but God our heavenly Father. Thus the Gospel is a challenge: Is God recognized in our lives? Do people perceive his presence in the world through the life we lead? Being a Christian is not really about telling people about what one has done either in the Church or in the secular society, or about what one has contributed to the uplift of people from misery, no matter how noble this may be; rather, in contrast to being a showbiz personality or being a politician, being a Christian is about allowing people to recognize God’s presence in all we say and do.

What's the Good News? It's Jesus Christ Himself

2011-12-01T08:48:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Second Sunday of Advent, Year B, Mark 1:1-8, December 4, 2011

IF THERE IS anything that we always welcome with joy, it is good news! Did not Fidel Ramos jump with joy when the news spread that the Marcoses had been transported to Hawaii? One can just imagine how happy a woman is after being told by her doctor that she has no cancer, after all! That is certainly good news that can make her face glow! For a person accused of murder, the good news is none other than the pronouncement of the judge that he is not guilty! These examples illustrate to us what good news signifies—it means liberation, justification, vindication to someone who, in one way or another, is undergoing negative experiences. These experiences are transformed into something positive that gives liberation, freedom and healing.

The First Reading (Isa 40:1-5; 9-11) provides us with an example of what good news means to God’s people in the Old Testament. Sometime in 697 BC, Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, attacked Jerusalem and besieged the city. As a result, he took captive the King of Judah, together with the ministers and government functionaries, the officers and men of the army, craftsmen, smith, and “none was left among the people of the land except the poor” (2 Kings 24:11-17).According to the prophets, this happened because of the perversion of Israel (Jer 16:10-13; Isa 1:21-23; 10:1). The exile suppressed the national identity of the Jews, destroyed their spirit, and humiliated them—“we today are flushed with shame” (Baruch 1:15).

It was to this situation that Isaiah, 59 years later, proclaimed the reading today: “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her service is atg an end. Go up on a high mountain, Zion, herald of good tidings, cry out at the top of your voice, Jerusalem, herald of the good news! Here comes with power the Lord God, who rules by his strong arm” (Isa 40:2a.9). To hear that God would finally put an end to their servitude and exile—that was certainly good news! It was the answer to their prayer and confession of sins (Dan 9:18-19). One can just imagine the joy of the Jews, who have been living in exile for a number of years in a land foreign to their culture and life, at hearing this news of liberation! They must have been dancing on the streets and highways!

This brings us to the Gospel reading (Mark 1:1-8). Mark opens his work with a proclamation that it is a gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God (Mark 1:1). By gospel he does not refer to his work, the book which we read and which is divided into 16 chapters. Gospel—which originally denoted good news of victory in battle—means “good news”! And the “good news” that Mark proclaims is a person—Jesus himself. The greatest news is Jesus himself In Aramaic, Jesus is Yeshua, which is a late form of the Hebrew Yehoshua, meaning, “Yahweh is salvation”. In him, God reveals himself as Savior. In other words, the good news is Jesus embodies the salvation of God, which all people long for.

There are two best known Jesuses in the Bible. In the Old Testament, there is Jesus or Joshua, son of Nun, successor of Moses (Num 13:16). In the New Testament, there is Jesus of Nazareth (Luke 2:21). Just as in the first Jesus, Joshua, God executed his plan to bring his people into the land that he swore to their fathers he would give them (Deut 31:7-8), so in the second Jesus, the man from Nazareth, God will accomplish his plan to give his people healing, liberation and salvation. This means that in Jesus, God is acting again on behalf of his people just as he did for Israel of old. In Jesus, God brings liberation and salvation to his people. In Jesus, one finds the answer to the fundamental problem of existence. Today, we are enmeshed in many negative realities—injustice, exploitation, global greed, oppression, political and economic inequality and disenfranchisement, suppression of human rights, abuse of power, and destruction of environment, among others. All these involve separation from God and severance of common brotherhood, which are the essence of sin. But Jesus came to save his people from their sins (Matt 1:21) and its consequences. This is the good news. In Jesus salvation, integrity, healing, new life—all this is possible, can be given to humanity.

Jesus will accomplish this as Son of God (Mark 1:1), not as Son of Man, Prophet, or Son of David. What does this mean? Notice: that Jesus is the Son of God is never recognized in Mark’s account, except at the end, when a pagan soldier, seeing how he died on the cross, declared that he is the Son of God (Mark 15:19). This means that for Mark, salvation can only come from dying. Jesus will be able to give life, healing, salvation and integrity precisely because he is able to endure suffering and give up his life. And what does this imply for Christians? Since the purpose why Mark wrote his story is to know Jesus as Son of God, and since to know him is to believe that he is the suffering Messiah who died on the cross, the evangelist therefore wishes to ask us, who are Christ’s disciples, to follow the crucified Messiah in loving service and suffering, even to the point of dying. In this way, we become good news to people in need of liberation and salvation.

Our Hope Will Not Leave Us Disappointed

2011-11-24T17:40:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the First Sunday of Advent, Year B, Mark 13:33-37, November 27, 2011

FROM TIME TO time, we read news items about people who commit suicide—a jilted lover, a bankrupt businessman, or a problem-laden woman. But these are exceptions. We, the majority, go on living despite frequent ups and downs in life. And why do we go on? The reasons are varied, but the most common denominators are future and hope. One person may commit suicide because, in his perception, there is no hope of getting rid of the pain and conflicts save by getting rid of oneself. He longs for rest from conflicts, but he feels he cannot get this in the future. Thus, one takes a dive. However, there is always the desire the go on living as long as there is hope. Hope gives power and strength to life. As long as there is hope and future, no situation is unbearable.

Today, we begin the season of Advent, which is a time of hope. It is a reminder that our religion is one of hope. To be a Christian is to be in joyful hope. Which brings us to the question: Why do we continue to celebrate hope? Of course, if we look at our world and examine its history, we discover much that forces us to question the future. We ask, for instance, if peace is probable in the future, because, if history has anything to tell us, it informs us that wars have been with us since the beginning. Marx is not entirely wrong when he interpreted history in terms of struggle. The ethnic cleaning in some African countries, which recalls similar phenomenon in the former Yugoslavia, the conflict between Palestinians and Israelis, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the Cold War, the Second World War—the list seems endless. One wonders whether man can achieve peace. If this is what one feels about the world, what does a believer feel about his hope that evil will come to an end?

In the First Reading, we read from Isaiah who articulates the feelings of his people about their lot: “For you have hidden your face from me” (Isa 64:6). Do we not sometimes feel, with all the seemingly unending experience of evil, that there is no hope ever that things will change in the future? Who does not feel the seeming absence of God who, it sometimes seems, has abandoned us who believe in him? Does it not sometimes appear that the heavens are closed, that God is silent and absent? People ask God to help them overcome their problems, but it seems that their cry remains unanswered. Everyday, we pray for peace, but when will the prayer be heard? Despite all this, however, we continue to celebrate hope, because, according to St Paul, God in Jesus Christ has begun working among us. To the Corinthians, for example, he speaks of the rich gifts that have been bestowed on them (1 Cor 4:7). For Christians, God is at work in the good that happens in the world, in the beautiful things that happen in each person’s life. Reconciliation of quarrelling neighbors, forgiving a murderer, donation to a cause for justice, embracing an enemy, feeding the hungry, standing for the rights of the oppressed—events such as these are the work of the Spirit. And what God has begun, he will not abandon (1 Cor 10:13), for he is faithful (1 Cor 1:9, Second Reading).

Since God is at work, we cannot therefore despair. We cannot give up even the tiniest accomplishments we have with regard, for instance, to world peace and justice, despite the multitude of wars and injustices in our midst, because each accomplishment has been initiated by God. We have reason to hope that he will reveal more powerfully in our lives what “no ear has ever heard, no eye ever seen” (Isa 64:3b). Which is none other than the “fellowship with His Son, Christ our Lord” (1 Cor 1:9). As followers of Christ, what we can do is watch for that revelation. This is the point of today’s Gospel (Mark 13:33-37). We wait for God to intervene in the world on our behalf. As we do not know when is he going to reveal to us this object of our hope—this fellowship with him and with the saints—all we need to do is to watch! “Be constantly on the watch! Stay awake! You do not know when the appointed time will come” (Mark 13:33).

And how do we watch? It is by allowing God’s gift to work in our lives. “Would that [God] might meet us doing right, that we were mindful of [him] in our ways!” (Isa 64:4). The active watching is revealed in the kind of life that we lead, which we hope to be perfected when Christ will fully reveal to us the fellowship. It is a life that proclaims that we are mouthpieces of Christ, giving witness to all. God has already begun this kind of life in us through the Holy Spirit, and we continue allowing the Spirit to work in us as we wait for the final revelation. Wars may go on, but the fact people are reconciled gives hope. Says St Paul: “The hope will not leave us disappointed, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5).*

Will God Judge Us on the Basis of Our Attitude to Christ's Representatives?

2011-11-15T23:01:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Thirty-Fourth Sunday, Year A,
Solemnity of Christ the King, Matthew 25:31-46, November 20, 2011

A DECADE OR so ago, Vice-President Teofisto Guingona was in Monterrey, Mexico where he delivered a speech on poverty at the United Nations International Conference on Financing for Development. Hours later, Guingona, who represented President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, was in a luncheon tendered by the governor of the state of Nuevo Leon for 150 heads of state, to which he had been invited. While seated at table no. 5 of the dining hall of the Centro de Arte de Monterey, he was told that there had been a mistake, and his name was not on the guest list, despite the fact that upon arrival at the hall, he presented his formal invitation. He left in a huff, and ordered the Department of Foreign Affairs to file a protest. Said Guingona: “I called our department for them to inform the Mexican government that the slur approximating insult, for whatever reason, was in effect directed not only at me but mainly to our government, to our nation, our people for whom I stood. Reason and justice therefore demands that an apology, if at all, should come from the Mexican government herself, asking indulgence for the breach from our government.” Some countries virtually condemned the Mexican insult. The Thai and Brunei delegations did not attend the State Dinner in protest of the terrible discourtesy.

If Mexico was condemned for her treatment of the representative of the Philippine government, so at the end of time, people will be condemned on the basis of their treatment of Jesus’ representatives. This is the main point that the parable of the sheep and the goats or of the last judgment in today’s Gospel is trying to convey. But before developing this theme, let us first examine the parable. Doubtless, this goes back to Jesus himself, and in its original setting, the story is about the Kingdom of God, more specifically, about the act of separation in the end-time, much like the parable of the wheat and tares (Matt 13:24-30) and the good and the bad fish (Matt 13:47-50). When it was used in the early Church, the parable became an allegory of the last judgment, as the shepherd came to be identified with the king (v 40). Matthew is probably responsible for the addition of apocalyptic features to the parable, as when he speaks of the coming in glory of the Son of Man who is identified with the king. But as it stands in Matthew, how is one to understand it? Many exegetes think that the parable has two fundamental questions that influence one’s interpretation: who are the nations being judged, and who are “the least of the brothers”. According to one interpretation, it is really about judgment of Christians on the basis of their attitude toward the needy members of the Christian community.

But in recent years, Liberation Theology popularized an interpretation that sees it as a judgment of all persons—Jews, Christians, pagans, grounding on their treatment of any person in need, both Christians and non-Christians. Says Gustavo Gutierrez in his A Theology of Liberation: “Our encounter with the Lord occurs in our encounter with others, especially in the encounter with those whose human features have been disfigured by oppression, despoliation, and alienation… The salvation of humanity passes through them; they are the bearers of the meaning of history and ‘inherit the Kingdom’ (James 2:5). Our attitude towards them, or rather our commitment to them, will indicate whether or not we are directing our existence in conformity with the will of the Father.” In other words, all individuals and nations will be judged on the basis of their attitude toward the poor, the deprived, the oppressed and the marginal. This goes beyond the traditional corporal works of mercy under which rubric the acts toward others have been placed, for, in this theology, working on the side of justice for the poor is an essential task of salvation. Some groups even interpreted this to mean that faith is not necessary for salvation, not even the Church, since all that one needs is preferential option for the poor.

However attractive such an interpretation, it is not consistent, though, with the theology of Matthew. If one reads the whole gospel, he will notice, as Donald Senior points out, that Matthew envisages three forms of judgment: first, the leaders of Israel will be held accountable for their rejection of Jesus and his message (Matt 23); second, the Christian community and its leaders will be judged on the basis of their response to God’s offer in Jesus (Matt 24-25); and third, the nations to which the mission of the Church is directed, will be convicted on their refusal to accept the messengers and their message (Matt 25:31-46)—which is the Gospel today. These different forms of judgment may be compared with Paul’s teaching in Romans 2:5-10 (see also 1 Pet 4:17). In other words, the basic question that the parable addresses is this: How shall non-Christians share in the Kingdom of God? For Matthew, the Gentiles will be judged according to how they responded to the proclaimers of the Gospel, namely, the disciples of Jesus. They are, for Matthew, the “least brothers” of Jesus (Matt 10:42; 11:11; 18:6; 10,14). The reason for interpreting this parable as a judgment on non-Christians is that when Matthew speaks of nations, he usually means the Gentiles (Matt 4:15; 6:32; 10:5, etc.) Moreover, in the Gospel, they are pictured as ignorant of Jesus: “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or away from home or naked or ill or in prison and not attend to your needs?” (Matt 25:44; see also vv 37-39). Hunger, thirst, nakedness and imprisonment—these refer to the sufferings of the disciples who proclaim Jesus’ message of salvation.

At the beginning of this essay, we noted that the snub done to Vice-President Guingona was an insult to the Philippine government. Because she shabbily treated our representative, Mexico actually insulted our country. She is ill-qualified therefore to join the family of decent nations—this is what the diplomatic issue that emerged virtually means. Similarly, one who does not treat well the representative of Jesus is hardly qualified to join the family of God, for in point of fact, he rejects Jesus himself. The same thought is found elsewhere in Matthew: “He who welcomes you welcomes me, and he who welcomes me welcomes him who sent me” (Matt 10:40). Underlying this logic is the shaliach principle according to which the rejection or acceptance of an envoy involves the rejection or acceptance of the sender, and in this principle, such acceptance or rejection will be validated on judgment day. Clearly, the situation-in-life that this parable presupposes is the missionary activity of the disciples. But at the present moment, this means that nations and individuals will share in the Kingdom of God on the basis of their attitude toward the Church, the proclaimer and sacrament of Jesus.*

Our Creative Response to God's Gift of Salvation

2011-11-10T05:12:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Thirty-Third Sunday of Year A, Matthew 25:16-30, November 13, 2011

"PARISIAN LIFE" IS now a 120-year-old painting of Juan Luna’s, depicting a woman in a café, on the right side of which are Juan Luna himself, Jose Rizal and Ariston Bautista Lin in a huddle. A few years ago, it was auctioned off by Christie’s auction house in Hongkong where the painting was the second top selling lot, and Winston Garcia, who was then GSIS president and general manager, won the bid at P46 million, but the GSIS would have to pay a premium of 10% of the final bid price. When GSIS won the bid, Garcia was quoted to have said that we were buying not a masterpiece but a piece of Philippine history. But he got a lot of flak. Sen. Manuel Villar said that while Garcia’s objective may have been noble, the welfare of the GSIS members should have been his primary consideration. According to Sen. Teresa Aquino-Oreta, the GSIS should have funneled a hefty part of the money to the members in the form of more benefits, if indeed it was awash in money. Complained the late Bayan Muna Rep. Crispin Beltran: “For years, members have been demanding better services and increased package of benefits from the GSIS. But what they give us are questionable investments, behest loans and ‘barya-baryang’ yearly dividends which are not even commensurate to the amounts we have contributed.”

For many, the people’s money in the GSIS was not invested in a right place. Which reminds us of the third servant in today’s parable of the silver pieces: he placed his master’s money in the wrong place. But that is going ahead of the story’s point. To begin with, the parable, like last Sunday’s, is clearly allegorical, although as Jesus himself told it, it probably had a different point. Most likely, it was intended for the Jewish religious authorities, such as the scribes and the Pharisees, who like the third servant, were so much concerned with the preservation of the religious tradition they had been entrusted with that they refused to hear the new message that Jesus brought. But this main point has given way to allegorization. As it stands in Matthew, the master’s invitation “Come, share your master’s joy” (Matt 25:21b) obviously refers to the messianic banquet in the Kingdom of God. The servants (v 14b et passim) stand for Christians who, through baptism, accept Christ as their master. The silver pieces (v 15) represent the faith that God gives them through baptism. And the “going away” and the long absence of the master (v 15b, 19a) refer to the journey of Christ to heaven and his physical absence from the world. His coming home (V 19) is the parousia, the second coming of the Lord. The early Church moralized the parable with the addition of the saying, “Those who have will get more until they grow rich, while those who have not will lose even the little they have” (v 29). Concerned with the coming eschatological event, it is now a parable of judgment.

While it is true that in this allegorization the story revolves around the three servants to whom the master disbursed his silver pieces, it gives far greater attention on the third servant. In the dialogue between the master and this servant, the former sharply rebuked the latter for his failure to do something with the silver pieces entrusted to him. This unproductive servant is held up as an bad example of one who, having been entrusted with capital, was more concerned about himself and thus about keeping the money intact—an attitude which, in Matthew’s redaction, shows his lazy and sterile life. Because his desire was security, however false, he was unable to obey the master in a very creative way, unlike the two other servants who made capital gains. If Matthew dwells at length on this lazy and unproductive servant, it is because the parable is meant to teach us that the gift of faith given to us at Baptism must grow while we await Jesus’ second coming so that, upon his return, we can give a good account on what we have done to the faith we received. This growth of faith is our creative response to the offer God has given us, while living in the period between now and Christ’s arrival at the end of time.

What does this mean? Like the first servants who, having received five thousand silver pieces, went to invest it and made another five, so we must be believers whose faith grows and bears fruit. Or, if we look at the parable as an allegory on the membership of the Kingdom at the end-time, we are supposed to work out our salvation in the same way that the first two servants invested the master’s money. Of course, salvation is God’s grace (Titus 3:5), but our part is to make a creative and proper response to it. In the second reading (1Thess 5:16), Paul expresses this in terms of being “awake and sober” (v 6)—“We who live by day must be alert, putting on faith and love as breastplate” (v 7). A productive faith is one that bears fruit in love. Thus Paul: “Your love must be sincere. Detest what is evil, cling to what is good. Love one another with the affection of brothers. Anticipate each other in showing respect. Do not grow slack but be fervent in spirit; he whom you serve is the Lord” (Rom 12:9-11). The first reading makes the same emphasis when it speaks of works: “Give her a reward for her labors, and let her works praise her at the city gates” (Prov 31:31). Of course, Paul himself makes a laconic expression of the growth of faith in love, when he says that in Christ what counts is “only faith that expresses itself in love” (Gal 5:6).

If the master was harsh with the third servant because he was concerned only with his own security, this implies that the growth of faith must benefit others. This brings to mind James’ assertion about unproductive faith: “If a brother or a sister has nothing to wear and no food for the day and you say to him, ‘Goodbye and good luck! Keep warm and well fed’, but do not meet their bodily needs, what good is that? So it is with faith that does nothing in practice. It is thoroughly lifeless” (Jas 2:14-17). Obviously, the parable stresses that like any gift, faith, no matter how small, is precious, and has to bear fruit for others. Which brings us back to the “Parisian Life.” One wonders, then, whether by buying the Luna painting, the GSIS was obedient to the mission of the institution in a creative way. No one disputes that the work of art was priceless, that its proper home should be the Philippines. But whether it was the GSIS that should buy the painting for P50.6 million, and whether it made a good creative and productive investment of the people’s hard-earned money, that is what is being disputed. At the end time, Jesus would dispute, too, the way the gift of faith has been invested—whether it grew, or it simply became fossilized.

How Should Christians Live Out the Faith Vis-a-Vis the Coming of the Kingdom?

2011-11-02T12:55:00.006+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Thirty-Second Sunday of Year A, Matthew 25:1-11, November 7, 2011

WHEN FAHRAKORB RIKKIATGYM, the Thai challenger in the International Boxing Federation (IBF) super bantamweight division, climbed up the ring at the RMC stadium in Davao City sometime in 2002, he packed a record of 33 straight wins, 22 by knockouts, and 2 losses. Confident that he could snatch the crown from Manny Pacquiao, he hoped, it was said, to return to Thailand with the title as a gift to his king and his people. What he did not know was that the lone reigning Filipino world boxing champion was very much in shape and well honed, swearing in fact that he was ready for the gory. No soon than the first round began than a right ram, which could have been mistaken for a set-up jab, landed on the bewildered Thai, mercilessly sending him to the floor. Seconds later, another blitzkrieg of punches was unleashed and floored the poor challenger, and after he was able to get up, another power-packed punch proved difficult to absorb. Before the first round was finished, the goner was flat on the floor, and had to be rushed to the hospital. Pacquiao is, of course, known for his lethal left, but it was claimed that for two months he perfected his right punch, and its awesome impact was more than enough to retain the crown.

Obviously, Rikkiatgym did not watch the right hand of the Filipino champion; or if he did, he was not prepared enough. That is why he suffered a stunning defeat. A similar lesson is presented in today’s Gospel—one who does not watch, or does not prepare himself adequately at the coming of the Son of Man will suffer exclusion from the victory of the Christian community. In view of the delay of Christ’s arrival, the proper attitude of the Christian is constant readiness and vigilance. Matthew stresses this point in the parable of the Ten Virgins (Matt 25:1-12). If one assumes that Jesus told this story, the parable may have referred to the imminent but unpredictable arrival of the Kingdom of God. Seen in this perspective, it must have taught that those who accept Jesus’ message about the coming of the Kingdom will have access to it when it finally comes, but for those who rejected it, it will be too late for them to realize that they will not be given entry. But as we find it in the Gospel, it is an allegory that the Church applied to those who follow Jesus in their watchful expectation of Jesus’ return. In this allegory, the ten virgins—the first five foolish, the second wise—are supposed to represent Christians in the community, some of whom are ill-prepared, the others well prepared for the parousia; the bridegroom is Christ, the Son of Man; the return of the bridegroom is the second coming of Christ; the delay in his coming is the postponement of the parousia; and the wedding feast is the messianic banquet.

In trying to emphasize the need of vigilance, Matthew warns us about the fate of the five foolish virgins. Since they were not ready for the moment when the groom arrived, they were excluded from the wedding banquet, in much the same way that Rikkiatgym failed to get the crown, as he did not watch Pacquiao’s right hand. In effect, the parable is about practical wisdom—what is a Christian ought to do, as the Son of Man is delayed in his arrival? That one needs this practical wisdom to be saved is the point of the First Reading: “She hastens to make herself known in anticipation of men’s desire; he who watches for her at dawn shall not be disappointed, for he shall find her at the gate” (Wisd 6:13-14). If one possesses this wisdom, it is certain that he will survive the last judgment. When this time comes, God will bring forth with him from the dead the wise believers who have fallen asleep. At the sound of the archangel’s voice and God’s trumpet, they will rise first, and the wise who are still living will be caught up with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air—an event that born-against Christians call “rapture” (1 Thess 4:16-17). But this is an apocalyptic imagery that cannot be taken literally; but what this means to us is that the wise believer is assured that he will be restored in the Christian community, now transformed into a perfect one, in fellowship and love.

It is Matthew’s wish that the members of the Christian community on earth should not be excluded from this fellowship at the end of time. They should be wise enough to be in a permanent state of readiness for the arrival of the Son of Man. For this reason, he presents us model of Christian behavior the five wise virgins who never ran out of oil. Unlike the foolish ones who, in bringing their torches to meet the bridegroom, brought no oil along, the wise virgins, sensible as they were, took flasks of oil. Because of the long wait for the bridegroom, the foolish ones realized later that their torches used up the oil they contained. For Matthew, a sensible Christian should not run out of oil. By what is meant by oil? The popular suggestion is that this refers to good works. Comparison is often made with the guest without a wedding garment in the parable of the wedding banquet (Matt 22:11-14) and the five foolish virgins without oil, and what is lacking in both is supposed to be good works. Of course, the theme of good works is not foreign to Matthew. In the Sermon on the Mount, Christians are exhorted to let their light shine so that people will see their good works and glorify their father in heaven (Matt 5:16). But as Garland suggests, it might be more consistent with Matthew’s theology to take oil not allegorically but parabolically. Since the main point of the story is that the foolish virgins were not ready when the great moment finally came, Matthew could have identified the oil not simply with the performance of good works, but with the tireless doing of other obligations—abstinence from bad behavior (15:19), love for enemies (5:44), love of other Christians (24:12), forgiveness of others (18:21-35), unhesitating faith (21:21), loyalty to Jesus (10:32), and love for God (22:37).

In other words, the parable is basically an exhortation on living out the Christian faith. Only those who live out their faith in every circumstance of their lives keep their eyes open (Matt 25:13). In the parable, the five wise virgins represent them. Of course, the problem of division in the Christian community between those who live out and those who do not is a reality. Today, the Church sees the flourishing of various faith communities and movements, where members take seriously their Christian faith and obligations, but one is afraid that enthusiasm might easily wane. In the 1960s, the Cursillo movement took the Philippines as if by storm; one found the movement in almost every parish. Today, they are few and far between. Indeed, for many, being Christian may not be more than just a name. If Christian faith finds its communal expression in the Sunday Eucharist, one wonders about the percentage of the baptized who really go to Mass and who fulfill their other Christian obligations.

What Was Jesus' Vision for His Church?

2011-10-27T10:13:00.003+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Thirty-First Sunday of Year A, Matthew 23:1-12, October 30, 2011

IN FACE OF TODAY'S global terrorism, greed without moderation, spiraling cost of electric power, frequent kidnappings and proliferation of illegal drugs, hoodlums in robes, pandemic corruption and other gargantuan problems, how is one to envision the country that Filipinos can live in with dignity? It might be recalled that former President Macapagal-Arroyo, in her State of the Nation Address, described the vision of her administration in terms of a “strong republic, ” and by this she meant one that “takes care of the people and takes care of their future,” built on the foundation of “citizens with rewarding jobs paying decent wages.” To build the foundation, she would generate investments and jobs by addressing the problems of graft and corruption, peace and order, and high power rates. In an editorial, “Small steps,” that treated of the President’s SONA, the PDI writer observed that these working agenda were a little more than reflex reactions to major problems identified by businessmen and independent observers. He faulted the administration for being unable “to see any problems unless others point them out. No wonder, it cannot offer any fresh insights into what ails the nation.” However much one agrees with the editorialist’s critique, one cannot dispute that what we envision for the future of our country is a reflex reaction to what we identify as inconsistent with what a republic ought to be.

Today’s Gospel hardly qualifies as a State of the Community Address, but there is no doubt that like the SONA of former President Arroyo, it provides us a glimpse of how Jesus and the early Church envisioned the Christian community. If Arroyo saw the republic against the current problems, so Matthew’s portrayal of the Christian community uses as foil what is perceived to be the imperfections of Judaism known to his community. In particular, he outlines practices of the Judaism of the Pharisees and scribes that have no place in the community. (Of course, it must be admitted that from the point of view of biblical scholarship, this description of the Judaism of the Pharisees must be seen as a caricature. but can be maintained, being too real in our experience, as a portrait of what the community ought not to be.) These practices are contained in the three woes. The Jesus of Matthew accused the Pharisees and the scribes of separating their religious belief from everyday life: “Their words are bold, but their deeds are few. They bind up heavy loads, hard to carry, to lay on men’s shoulders, while they themselves will not lift a finger to budge them” (Matt 23:4). He accused them of ostentation: “All their works are performed to bed seen. They widen their phylacteries and wear huge tassels” (Matt 23:5). Finally, he accused them of seeking first places in the assembly, and honor in society: “They are fond of places of honor at banquets and front seats in synagogues, of marks of respect in public and of being called Rabbi” (Matt 23:6). For Matthew, these practices veer away from the nature of a true people of God. They are religious aberrations.

What, then, ought to exist in a true community of God? For Matthew, religious practices must flow from a correct understanding of the nature of the community. The Christian community ought to be a family of God—it is a community under the fatherhood of God, and no one can exercise that role: “Do not call anyone on earth your father. Only one is your father, the One in heaven” (Matt 23:9). One implication of this description is that the family is a brotherhood and sisterhood of women and men. This means that the community is not to be seen as primarily an institution that stresses organization and structures. On the contrary, what seems to be important is the relationship within the community. Because God alone is father, all the rest are brothers and sisters to one another. As such, it can be described as a fraternity or sorority of equals, since all members form one body in which they share the same dignity. They may be numerous, but the fatherhood of God makes them one family, and their being all children of the same God establishes equality in dignity.

Which is why St Paul describes the Christian community as a family of co-equals: “There does not exist among you Jew or Greek, slave of freeman, male or female. All are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28). Differences in nationality, social status, and gender can create social tension, but because Christians have been born in baptism, and incorporated into Christ, their belonging to the body overcomes these tensions. Vatican II seems to echo this self-understanding when it speaks of the Church’s mission: “By virtue of her mission to shed on the whole world the radiance of the gospel message, and to unify under one Spirit all men of whatever nation, race or culture, the Church stands forth as a sign of that brotherliness which allows honest dialogue and invigorates it. Such a mission requires in the first place that we foster within the Church herself mutual esteem, reverence, and harmony, through the full recognition of lawful diversity. Thus all those who compose the People of God, both pastors and the general faithful, can engage in dialogue with ever abounding fruitfulness. For the bonds which unite the faithful are mightier than anything which divides them” (Gaudium et spes, 92).

In place of these polarities and tensions, what ought to characterize the Christian community is service: “The greatest among you will be the one who serves the rest. Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled, but whoever humbles himself shall be exalted” (Matt 23:11-12). Of course, Jesus himself is the model of service. Referring to himself on the issue of authority and power, Jesus said: “Such is the case with the Son of Man who has come not to be served, but to serve, to give his own life as a ransom for the many” (Matt 20:28). This self-understanding of the Christian community is enshrined at the Second Vatican Council: “Inspired by no earthly ambition, the Church seeks but a solitary goal: to carry forward the work of Christ Himself under the lead of the befriending Spirit. And Christ entered this world to give witness to the truth, to rescue and not to sit in judgment, to serve and not to be served” (Gaudium et spes, 3). In this understanding, the community is encouraged to look beyond its internal affairs, to be involved in making the world a better place to live in by proclaiming, through its life of service, Jesus’ vision of the Kingdom of God where there is peace, justice and forgiveness.

Life Is Not Really About Laws and Lawyers--It Is About Loving People

2011-10-18T04:49:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Thirtieth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 22:34-40, October 23, 2011

Probably the most intellectually entertaining show that was ever presented on Philippine television, rivaling telenovelas in its crowd-drawing power, was the Impeachment Trial of former President Joseph Ejercito Estrada. For the first time the majority of the Filipinos were introduced to the best world of Filipino lawyers who not only explored new grounds of jurisprudence, but also had a field day of demonstrating their intelligence, prowess, legal tricks and tactics.

At the same time, however, it left many ordinary mortals disturbed. For them, the mountain of evidence uncovered by the prosecutors and presented by witnesses was enough to convince them about the truth of the charges. Obviously, it was difficult for them to understand that truth was served by the thrust of the defense lawyers to block evidence on the ground of irrelevance and immateriality. It was easier for them, for example, to go with Aquilino Pimentel who declared, “I vote to open the second envelope… because that is the only way to determine whether or not the contents are relevant or material to the case at bar.” But Francisco Tatad’s view, echoing the argument of Atty Estelito Mendoza, and repeated in his book, A Nation on Fire, that he refused the opening of the second envelope on the ground that the charge against Estrada was not part of the complaint verified by the House did not make sense to them! Given the arguments and counter-arguments and the various interpretations that were aired, however, the ordinary person could only wonder how complicated a society would be if it were governed only by law and lawyers! Could law be simplified enough so that it could be a real guide to all to true life, not a labyrinth where people—the majority of them—could be lost?

The background of today’s Gospel is somehow similar to this. At the time of Jesus, the Jewish fundamental law was the Torah or the five books of Moses which, according to Jewish scholars, contain 613 precepts, of which 248 are positive commandments, the rest being prohibitions. But because these laws needed to be applied to particular situations, Jewish scholars developed other laws, which became known as Halakah, in much the same way that Congress has to apply the Philippine Constitution to particular situation and age through enactment of laws. But when one considers that provinces, municipalities, and barangays also pass laws and ordinances in order to apply the fundamental law in the concrete circumstances of the people’s life, one can only imagine the mountain of laws that he must observe as a good Filipino citizen! At the same time, one must admit that there are few mortals like Joker Arroyo or Estelito Mendoza, just as in Jesus’ time, many people were not as knowledgeable about laws as the Scribes and the Pharisees. Given the plethora of laws to be observed, the Jews needed to know what is central to the precepts and prohibitions so that by observing it, they would not have to bother about the overdevelopment of minor laws in order to be good Jews.

That seems to be the context of the question that a lawyer posed to Jesus in today’s Gospel: “What commandment of the law is the greatest?” (Matt 22:36). Out of the 613 commandments (mind you, not 10 commandments) of God, Jesus cited two. The first one comes from the heart of the Shema, which is an ancient Hebrew prayer lifted from the historical prologue to the Deuteronomic Code: “Hear, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone! Therefore you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength” (Deut 6:5). The second comes from the Code of Holiness: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev 19:18). For Jesus, these two are the most central commandments in the 613 laws of God found in the Torah. What Jesus introduced to his listeners, however, is not the combination of these two. In fact, we already find this in, for example, the Testament of Issachar: “But love the Lord and your neighbor, and show compassion for the poor and the weak” (T.Issac 5:2). What is new here is the view that both commands are on equal plane: “the second is like it” (Matt 22:39a). The second is similar to the first in theological depth, and there is an interrelationship between them. That is to say, although love of God comes first, yet there is no true love of God that is not incarnated in the love of neighbor. The proof that we love God lies in our love for our neighbor. This in a way is reflected in John: “If anyone says, ‘My love is fixed on God,’ yet hates his brother is a liar. One who has no love for the brother he has seen cannot love the God he has not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: whoever loves God must also love his brother” (1 John 4:20-21).

What’s the point we are driving at? Law in Judaism at the time of Jesus has become a complicated phenomenon, with various groups making their own interpretation of the laws of God, a complication that is not without some similarities in what the Filipino people witnessed during the Impeachment Trial of Estrada. And as already noted, the average Filipino might not be able to follow the finer points of law, whose distinctions could be perceived easily only by the likes of Joker Arroyo or Estelito Mendoza. Jesus’ audience, on the other hand, never had the sophistication of the Scribes and Pharisees, for it was a popular and simple one. Understandably enough, since it was his purpose that the law of God could be easily understood and followed by the common people, Jesus taught them what was so central so that by obeying it, they were assured that they have already followed the whole law. And what is so central is love. That is God’s will for man. In other words, for Jesus, anyone who loves God in his neighbor has fulfilled the whole law. Hence, the additional comment of Jesus to what we find in the Gospel of Mark: “On these two commandments the whole law is based, and the prophets as well” (Matt 22:40). What does this imply? In being Christian, what counts, in the ultimate analysis, is life. But life is not all about laws, and it is too preciously to be placed in the hands only of lawyers. Before anything else, life is about love, and that life is meaningful if it embodies a love of God that is incarnated in the love of neighbor, in the love of others. No wonder, St Augustine could say, “Love, and do what you will.” Obviously, when a person loves, he fulfills what is most necessarily in life, and love is possible for any person, simple or not, even if he does not have the sophistication of an Estelito Mendoza or a Pharisee. After all, the best lawyer is not necessarily the good Christian; but a lover qua Christian lover surely is.*

Should Our Country Be Placed No Longer Under God, But Only Under Judges and Lawyers?

2011-10-13T21:18:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-Ninth Sunday Of Year A, Matthew 22:15-21, October 16, 2011

WHICH THINGS ARE God’s? If the decision of the judges of a federal appeals court that ruled a few years ago that the US Pledge of Allegiance vowing fealty to one nation “under God” is unconstitutional—since this violates the basic constitutional tenet of separation of church and state—is to be followed to its logical conclusion, only our private life belongs to God. Writing to the Newsweek editor, April Collins seems to share this view: “Please take God out of Inaugurations and out of the Pledge of Allegiance. People who use it and insist on keeping it are juvenile. America was not founded on God. I’m Roman Catholic and still believe that as a 6-year-old in school—whether I happen to be Buddhist or a Native American whose God is a bird, or I believe in a rock—I should not be forced to say God. Ours is a country of many religions. Let’s keep church and state separate and keep God out of it all. Belief belongs in the home or church, not in the state or government or school. Religion is private, and this is a free country—let’s keep it free.”

That God or religion should be confined to private life cannot, however, be accepted in the life of anyone who professes himself to be Christian. For one thing, the idea that God should be kept out of the state contradicts what the Sacred Scripture itself teaches in the Gospel today: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, give God what is God’s (Matt 22:21). To understand this saying, it may be helpful to recall that at the time of Jesus, Israel was under Roman rule. And just as the Filipinos never relished being under the Japanese during the Second World War, the Jews hated the Romans. Of course, the Pharisees accepted the Roman occupation, and true to their ideology, counseled submission to it. The Herodians were obviously supporters of Herod who governed Palestine under the auspices of the Roman Emperor. In today’s pericope, we are told that these two groups wanted to put Jesus in a dilemma by asking him: “Is it lawful to pay tax to the Emperor or not?” (Matt 21:17). The dilemma was this: should he tell them it was all right to pay tax to the Emperor, Jesus would certainly be ostracized by the common people to hated the Roman tribute as a symbol of political and economic subjugation. But should he answer that it was not right to do so, the Pharisees and the Herodians would certainly brand him an anti-Roman, if not a revolutionary.

Jesus’ answer to the trap, as already noted, was to give Ceasar what was his, and to give God what belongs to him. And it being a trap, the course to take is to escape it, and that is what Jesus, wise as he was, exactly did. He got away from their trap by putting the burden of the question on the Herodians and the Pharisees themselves! Knowing that the tax was paid in Roman currency, he asked for a Roman coin, and raised the question: “Whose head is this, whose inscription?” (Matt 22:20). Scholars surmise that the coin probably showed the head of the Emperor with the inscription “Tiberius Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus, High Priest.” What was Jesus’ purpose in asking for a coin? It must be stressed that then Ten Commandments explicitly prohibit graven images, like the image of the emperor on the coin (Exod 20:4). Consequently, by demanding that he be shown a coin, he was subtly accusing the emissaries of the Pharisees and the Herodians that they were violating the commandment of God, because they brought with them a graven image, the image of a pagan high priest, to the holy land. Yet, never did the Pharisees or the Herodians protest against it. But if they never gave a hoot about that flagrant transgression, why would it bother them to pay tax to Caesar? In other words, by answering that they give to Caesar what is his (Matt 22:21b), Jesus was cleverly saying that since you have already violated God’s commandment, why worry about whether paying taxes is against God’s will or not?

In truth, though, Jesus must have, in the context of his theology of the kingdom of God, thought that paying tribute to Caesar was against God’s will. It must be noted that one of the revered beliefs in Judaism is God’s ownership of the land of Israel: “The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine, and you are but aliens who have become my tenants” (Lev 25:23). That the Roman Emperor occupied Israel, the Jews understandably regarded it as usurpation, and since there seems to be no evidence that Jesus rejected that belief, it is most likely that he thought of it like an ordinary Jew did—it was not according to God’s will to recognize the authority of the Emperor. Of course, Jesus did not say it; or he would have fallen into the trap, but that is exactly the meaning of the punch line of the second segment of the saying: “Give to God what is God’s” (Matt 22:21). In Jewish thought—and there seems to be no evidence that Jesus departed from it—there is really nothing that belongs to Caesar that does not belong to God, including political power. For a Jew, all power comes from God, and if anyone, like the Emperor, exercises it, it is because God permits it (Rom 13:1b). But it was clear to the Jews that it was not his will that the Emperor should put Israel under his rule, because God called Israel to freedom. Therefore, that the Roman should oppress, disenfranchise, alienate and discriminate them, and violate their rights—that could not have been legitimized, for they opposed God’s call to liberty and freedom.

What, then, is due to God? Everything. There is no sphere of life that can be claimed as an exclusive domain of the state. The state, any state, belongs to God, and state power can be said to be legitimate only if it does not oppose God’s call to liberty and freedom. The idea, in other words, that the realm of God should be confined merely to private life or to the sacristy and the rectory can be grounded only on a misunderstanding of what it means to believe in a God who cares for the salvation of the world. Which is why, one can understand the reaction of US leaders to the decision of the federal court regarding the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. For the decision does not simply touch on the freedom of expression, pace the claim of Daan Schoemaker of Amsterdam in his letter to the editor (Newsweek). It has to do with one’s and the nation’s world view. In fact, by confining God only to private life, the decision of the federal court virtually placed the nation not under God but under the lawyers and judges—which is what the title of a lead article in Newsweek is all about: “One Nation Under Judges”. In effect, law and lawyers have substituted God!

Unworthy of the Gift?

2011-10-07T03:11:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-Eighth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 22:1-14, October 9, 2011

When Joseph Ejercito Estrada ran for President, his critics and opponents scoffed at him, calling him a womanizer, gambler and drinker. But he proved to be a Teflon. The criticism that he was ill-prepared for the office, that his intellect would not grasp the intricate work of the presidency, that his morals would demean the office—nothing of course stuck. After all, it was reasoned that the country had had enough of presidents who were well-educated and yet were not able to bring the poor out of the quagmire of poverty. As for having several mistresses, people took it as a private affair that has nothing to do with the office. If he was ill-qualified, he could simply seek the advice of scholars and experts in the field. On the other hand, they perceived him as the candidate who would make good of his promise. Erap para sa mahirap was a slogan that brought almost eternal hope. No wonder he scored high in surveys. And when election time came, he obtained 10.7 million votes against the 4.3 million of his closest rival, Jose de Venecia. After more than 2 years in the office, however, the hope of the people was not transformed into reality. As the impeachment trial revealed, he enriched himself in office through bribery and corruption; almost nothing was done to really uplift the condition of the poor; he did not devote much time and energy to his office; he continued his drinking with the midnight cabinet; and he had little work ethic. Though people overlooked his faults and deficiencies and gifted him with the Presidency, Estrada did not act in a way he was supposed to as chief executive. Found wanting, he was booted out from office.

A similar lesson is taught in today’s Gospel: The Kingdom of God is a gift. Though we did not deserve it, God offered it to us. But we have to make a response. As recipient of the gift, we need to live a kind of life that the gift demands. Let us first describe the gift. Actually, it is difficult to describe the Kingdom. Since it partakes of the nature of God, it is therefore mysterious. No wonder, the Bible often resorts to images to capture some of its aspects, and an image that is frequently used, as in today’s Gospel and in the First Reading, is the image of a banquet. In the First Reading, Isaiah depicts it as a messianic banquet on mount Zion, the figure of the new Jerusalem, in which people no longer suffer hunger and want nor endure suffering and death. On the contrary, they experience a fullness of joy and gladness, peace and reconciliation, for it is none other than the life of God himself. Thus Isaiah: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will provide for all peoples a feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines. On this mountain he will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations; he will destroy death forever (Isa 25:6-7).

But how are we to experience this life of God? As already noted—and this is what the parable stresses—this life in the Kingdom is a gift, sheer gift, from God. People are merely invited to it. As we saw in the commentary last Sunday, God called Israel to it, and to take care of it. That is why he sent his prophets and, ultimately, his Son, to remind her to respond to the invitation. In today’s Gospel, the invitation was issued to the leaders of Israel, because they were entrusted with the duty of shepherding God’s people. In the story, it is the invited guests who represented them (Matt 22:3). However, instead of welcoming the invitation, they rejected it and even did violence to the messengers, the prophets, sent. To punish them, the king destroyed the murderers and burned their city. Here, Matthew seems to suggest that if the city of Jerusalem was burned down by Roman soldiers, it was because the leaders of Israel murdered God’s messenger and rejected the offer of the Kingdom of God.

With the refusal by the leaders of Israel, those who were outside the respectable Judaism like the tax collectors, the sinners, and the Gentiles, received the invitation instead and accepted it. No doubt, Matthew here is trying to explain why in his Christian community there were tax collectors, sinners and Gentiles. It is also possible that Matthew is making an apologia for the mixed membership in his community—Jews and Gentiles, sinners and saints. But an even more important point that Matthew tries to bring across is this. To be invited to the Kingdom of God is just a first step in the process of salvation. A more significant question for those of us who have been invited is whether we make the appropriate response to the invitation. Thus, in the parable, the King went to the banquet hall to see whether the invited guests wore garments that were appropriate to the occasion (Matt 22:11-12). To understand the meaning of the wedding garment, it is best to see its usage in the Bible. In Isaiah, it is connected with justice and salvation: “For he has clothed me with the robe of salvation and wrapped me in a mantle of justice” (Isa 61:10b). In John, it has reference to good deeds (Rev 19:8-9) and upright life (Rev 3:18). For Paul, it means equality and unity (Gal 2:22-27). These few biblical references make it clear that by garment is meant a new life, one that matches the new status that God has called the person or community to. For this reason, if sinners are invited, the appropriate response is obviously to change their sinful life and embrace the values of the Kingdom of God.

That is the point of the parable of the wedding banquet in the Gospel today (Matt 22:1-14). Out of his goodness, God called us to the Kingdom of God, his pure gift that we do not deserve. And we are to be thankful for it. But it is not enough to receive it. Along with the reception comes the responsibility that the gift demands. Once we are remiss with the responsibility, God could treat us in the way the King in the parable did the man who had no appropriate clothes—he was whisked off from the banquet (Matt 22:13), in much the same way that Joseph Ejercito Estrada was booted from office because his way of life did not match the demands of the presidency. The parable is thus a parable of judgment. And so, like the parable last Sunday, this one also calls for our self-examination as Christians who were called to a new life. For it happens that for many Christians, it is enough that they have been baptized, that they have been accepted to the Christian community. However, to fulfill their promise to renounce Satan and all his works, to be transformed by the word of the Gospel, to engage in the work of justice and peace—it is not infrequent that Christians forget to do these and similar demands of their faith. It is time therefore that we do not forget the saying, “the invited are many, the elect are few” (Matt 22:14) to warn us of the divine judgment once we fail to live according to the values of the Kingdom of God.

Unworthy of the Call?

2011-09-30T02:31:00.003+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-Sixth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 21:33-43, October 2, 2011

Since the birth of the Philippine republic, no President ever had the political will to change the condition of the majority who are poor. No wonder, when Joseph Ejercito Estrada ran for President, many people, including some businessmen and even intellectuals, opted to support him, despite what his rivals and critics described as his immoral private life. His image in the cinema that portrayed him as champion of the poor and his campaign slogan, Erap para sa mahirap, captivated them. For the majority who are poor, he was the cornerstone of the new building that would be the pro-poor government. He was then extreme popular. When the 1998 presidential election was through, Estrada got 10.7 million votes, while is closest rival, Jose de Venecia, obtained 4.3 million votes. But on January 20, 2001, after 31 months in office, President Estrada was deposed by the very people who elected him, in a 5-day popular uprising now known as People Power II. On the fourth day, the top generals of the armed forces joined the Edsa crowd to announce their withdrawal of support. On the last day, hundred of demonstrators marched to the presidential palace to pressure him to resign, even as then Vice-President Arroyo took her oath as President. Shortly after noontime, Estrada hastily left his official residence. What was thought to be the cornerstone was rejected by the builders in the end.

This fate of Estrada somehow illustrates what happened to Israel. In accord with his plan that all men might be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth (1 Tim 2:4), God chose Israel not out of any merit on her part, but on the contrary despite her sinfulness and weakness, and because of his love for her (Ezek 16:4-8). If people overlooked Estrada’s deficiencies and made him their President, so God ignored Israel’s sins and made her his very own people (Isa 1:3), or in the language of the parable in today’s Gospel, his vineyard (Matt 21:28; Isa 5:7). He gave her the law to distinguish Israel from other nations. If the Filipino people wanted Estrada to become the champion of the poor, God wanted Israel to become a light of all nations, through whom all peoples will be saved. Thus Isaiah: “All nations shall come and say, ‘Come, let us climb the Lord’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob’” (Isa 2:3a). God wanted her to become the model community in which God dwells, a community where justice, peace and righteousness prevail (Isa 2:4). Israel, therefore, does not belong simply to the political history of humanity; rather, by divine election, she was constituted the center of the history of salvation.

But just as Estrada failed the presidency, so Israel failed in the mission God gave her. If the impeachment trial revealed the bribery and corruption of the presidency, so the first reading makes an account of Israel’s failure: God looked for judgment, but he found bloodshed; he searched for justice, but discovered the cry of the poor (Isa 5:7). In the view of the prophet Isaiah, the land of Israel was full of land grabbers (5:8-9), bribery and violation of human rights (5:23). God sent prophets to bring Israel to faithfulness and make her listen to his will (Jer 7:3), even as journalists, academicians, technocrats and businessmen criticized the way the President governed the country, but Israel, like Estrada, did not respond accordingly. On the contrary, Israel killed the prophets that were sent to her (2 Chr 24:21; Luke 13:34). She even rejected and killed God’s only Son. Because the nation did not live up to the covenant, God took away the vineyard from her and gave her to a new people, the Church, even as Estrada was booted out from office and a new President was installed. The new people in the parable are none other than the Church. This is what the “others” who received the vineyard mentioned in the parable (Matt 21:41) meant. Which is why, in the last supper, Jesus spoke of the new covenant (Luke 22:20), to signify that a new partner has been chosen to renew Israel.

Of course, just as Gloria Arroyo came to know that she was installed in order not to repeat the failed presidency of Estrada, so the early Christians gradually realized that their call was to be the renewed people of Israel. This is implicit, for instance, in Jesus’ final words to Peter: “In the new age when the Son of Man takes his seat upon a throne befitting his glory, you who have followed me shall likewise take your places on the twelve thrones to judge the twelve tribes of Israel” (Matt 19:28). But in Paul, this is explicit, because the apostle already addresses the community as the renewed Israel: “Peace and mercy on all who follow this rule of life and on the Israel of God” (Gal 6:16). As a renewed people, the Church is not to repeat the mistakes of Israel; hence, she has to realize that she is given a big responsibility to embody the features of the Kingdom of God in her life and mission. This is the reason why in the parable, the Gospel makes a loose quotation from Isa 5:1-7 to compare the Christian community with the people of Israel. A similar point is stressed in the 2nd Reading: the Church must live what she has received from God; she must have Christ as the center of her life. “Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me” (Phil 4:8-9).

The Gospel, like the 1st and 2nd Readings, calls for our self-examination as a new people of God, even as the Arroyo Administration should have closed examined itself whether it remained faithful to the people power that had installed her. As a community that has been called to embody the values of the Kingdom of God, the Church, like every Christian community, is to take seriously her vocation, and the responsibility given her for the salvation of mankind. In this self-examination, she could raise, for a start, the following questions: Has she progressed in her journey as a people, or is she simply repeating in her life the sins of Israel? If today God visits her, will he find wild grapes in his vineyard? Will he discover in the Christian community land grabbing, bribery, violations of human rights, bloodshed? Instead of peace, will he find violence and war? Instead of justice for the poor, will he unearth exploitation and marginalization? Instead of care and sharing, will he find greed and corruption? These and similar questions could be raised today by the Christian community in her self-examination, as well as by the current administration that replaced the Arroyo experiment.

A Test of Discipleship: Words Backed Up by Deeds

2011-09-23T06:35:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-Sixth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 21:28-35, September 25, 2011

IF NOYNOY AQUINO was catapulted into the Presidency, it was not so much because of what his party had done; rather, it was because people had had enough of the litany of the alleged corruptions under the previous administration. For many, his election slogan, “Kung walang corrupt, walang mahirap” accurately described the state of the nation. The immorality and the amount of money involved in various allegations were simply mind-boggling: NBN-ZTE scandal, Hello Garci scandal, P738M fertilizer scam, P532M overprice of Macapagal Bvld, Nani Perez Power Plant deal, P1.38 poll automation contract, Northrail project, Garcia and other AFP Generals scandal, the results of the 2007 Mindanao elections, Mindanao Massacre, and many others. One hopes that the new President will succeed in pursuit of the “matuwid na landas” (right path)! And yet, early this year, an SWS survey showed that his net satisfaction rating plummeted. This could be an indication that in the perception of those surveyed, the President has yet to show tangible results. Sen. Francis Pangilinan himself said that the Palace should match campaign promises with concrete accomplishments.

That words have to be substantiated—this is the main point of today’s parable of the two sons. The story is extremely short. When their father asked them to go and work in his vineyard, the first one objected, but eventually changed his mind and obeyed. The second one said yes but never went. To the question of Jesus, “who of the two did the father’s will?” the answer of course is the first son. There are various ways of understanding the parable, depending on the level of interpretation one wants to focus on As told by Jesus, the story seems to have been originally linked with the question of who was a true Israelite. The first son portrays the tax collectors and sinners. Because they were unable to follow the law, they were treated as outside the pale of the true Israelite community. The second represents the scribes and the Pharisees, those who know the law. They claimed to represent the true Israelite community because they were faithful in its observance. Because of their claim, they became so secure in their position that when God revealed himself not through the law but through a person named Jesus, he refused to respond to him. That is why they are compared with the second son because they said yes to God, but in actual fact, they did not obey his word spoken through Jesus. On the other hand, the tax collectors and sinners, who were regarded as transgressors of the law, now said yes to the revelation in Jesus. Hence, they are identified with the first son.

It is even possible that the parable was applied first not to the ministry of Jesus but to that of John the Baptist. In his case, the poor who did not know the law accepted his teaching, but the religious establishment did not. But at the level of Christian life, the parable is about discipleship. In particular, it has to do with the importance of practical response to God’s invitation in Jesus. No doubt, the first son is held up as an example of discipleship. It does not matter whether one was born to a pagan family, or to morally questionable parents; what matters is that, in the ultimate analysis, one accepts God’s offer of salvation in Jesus Christ through repentance and faith. Just as the tax collectors and sinners repented and believed in Jesus (Matt 21:32), so any person, whatever might be the beginnings of his life, has only to respond to the offer of discipleship by changing his life and putting on the life of Christ. Such a person is God’s son, Jesus’s disciple, heir to the kingdom of God: “Whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is brother and sister and mother to me” (Matt 12:30). One of the bitterest criticisms of Jesus against the Pharisees precisely consisted in this—that they merely talk, but their deeds are scarce: “Do not follow their [the Pharisees’] example. Their words are bold, but their deeds are few” (Matt 23:3). They are like the second son who said yes to his father, but failed him.

Discipleship is thus a matter of deeds. In much the same way that the real test of “kung walang corrupt, walang mahirap” is whether the current administration has made tangible results in its war against corruption, so the real test of discipleship is whether the words are backed up by deeds. Because discipleship is what makes one a child of the kingdom, Jesus could say: “None of those who cry out, “Lord, lord,’ will enter the kingdom of God but only the one who does the will of my father in heaven” (Matt 7:21). On the basis of this, one can only be amused that peripatetic preachers and born-again Christian could be so zealous in their attack against the Catholic Church, convinced as they are they have the truth, but are intolerant of those who happen to disagree with them. How often they forget that they have to love in deed and in truth (1 John 3:18). The final test that one is a disciple is not the ability to quote the appropriate biblical text to prove that one’s argument is rooted in the Bible, but the fleshing out of that belief in love.

The parable is a big challenge to us, Catholics. The center of our lives is the Eucharist, where we proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes (1 Cor 11:26). In Christian life, To borrow the words of the Second Vatican Council, it is “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed; at the same time it is the fountain from which all her power flows. For the goal of apostolic works is that all who are made sons of God by faith and baptism should come together to praise God in the midst of his Church, to take part in her sacrifice and to eat the Lord’s Supper” (Sacrosanctum concilium, 10). But there looms the danger that the Eucharistic celebration may be reduced to a mere ritual celebration, divorced from our daily life. It could happen that though we are faithful in celebrating it, we do not make an effort to live the life patterned after Jesus’, which is a life of self-giving (Phil 2:9; Second Reading). In that sense, we could be like the Pharisees whose words are bold, but whose deeds are few and far between. To make the Eucharist the real center of our life, it must also affect our very life—all our thoughts and actions come from it and lead toward it. For a Eucharistic celebration that does not lead to action on behalf of others is simply empty; it does not exhibit a response to the offer of God’s grace in Jesus Christ.

Exceptionally Generous Is God to Us!

2011-09-14T12:25:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Twenty-Fifth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 20:1-16, September 18, 2011

SERIALIZED ON GMA-7, Sana Ikaw Na Nga was a prime-time soap that told the story of the love between Carlos Miguel and Cecilia. In one of its episodes, there was a scene in which the family of Don Juan Salvador was gathered to listen to the lawyer read the last will and testament of the old man. One of his sons, Leroy, was to inherit part of the wealth, but with the stipulation that he had to finish his schooling first. His brother, Gilbert, who was legally married to Cecilia, was given an even greater inheritance, and without condition. But the surprise of the last will and testament was the wealth to be inherited by the young Juan Salvador, the legal son of Gilbert and Cecilia, although televiewers very well know that the baby was not Gilbert’s—he was Carlos Miguel’s—his inheritance simply boggles the mind, it was fabulously enormous. One could always sympathize with Leroy; he was after all a legal son, and yet he could not even have his inheritance, since conditions were attached. On the other hand, the young Salvador, who did not even have the blood of his father, bagged the biggest part of their family wealth!! If one looks at the last will and testament through the eyes of Leroy, he can easily see some injustice in the distribution of wealth. But one can always argue that their father was simply generous to his grandchild—the young Juan Salvador!

Almost exactly the same point is being stressed in today’s parable popularly known as the Parable of the Laborers of the Vineyard. It tells the story of a vineyard owner who hired from a labor pool at various hours of the day. When evening drew on, all the hired men, including those who were hired at five in the afternoon, received the same payment. If one looks at the parable in terms of labor relations, he can always sympathize with those who labored all day, beginning at nine in the morning, but nonetheless received a wage that was exactly the same as those who came at five in the afternoon. It is not difficult to see the injustice done to them, if by justice is meant the giving of what is due to everyone. Obviously, it is a gross injustice for the estate owner to give the same wage to those who came to work early in the day and those who came late in the afternoon. That would be a case of unfair labor practice. But the parable is not about labor relations. For the focus of the story is not on the laborers who came to the vineyard, but on the owner who was extremely gracious to those who came last—he was extremely generous!

In trying to understand the lesson of the parable, it may be helpful to point out that at Jesus’ time, the market place was some kind of a labor exchange. Men went there in the morning and waited for an employer to come along. And in the normal course of things, any employer would always hire the skilled or the competent workers. Consequently, if there were any workers standing idle in the marketplace from morning to afternoon, they were certainly the leftovers whom no one hired. The lesson of the parable lies here, for it is in connection with these leftovers that the extreme generosity of the owner is shown. For one thing, in spite of the fact that they were unskilled, the owner was generous enough to take them in. For another, he gave each of them a wage that was more than commensurate with their work. One wonders, of course, whether this could be practiced in a business corporation. It is easy to imagine a company eventually folding up because of the extreme generosity of the owner—being exceptionally gracious would send the company into bankruptcy! But that is how human thinking goes. Nonetheless, the first reading reminds us: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:5-6).

Linked with the parable, this Isaianic saying merely indicates that God does not deal with men in the same way that men deal with their fellow men. To curb greed and inequality, men like to appeal to justice—give each one his due, they say! But one wonders whether justice is enough. Law brings justice, but one can easily recognize that something is lacking—it lacks compassion, magnanimity and similar values! Dura lex sed lex, the law may be harsh, but it is the law! Obviously, the world cannot be ruled by law alone, and it would be unfortunately to leave the world only to lawyers or justices! Love is to be added, for it is love that enables us to share with those who are marginal and abandoned members of the community. “The Lord is good to all, and compassionate towards his work” (Ps 145:9), says the Responsorial Psalm, but that is because God is first of all love. Equality may express justice, but it does not convey the compassion and love of God. It may be difficult to fathom, but one can understand why God’s thought is unlike human thought.

But if God does not deal with us in the way men do, it is because if he does, no one would probably survive: “If you, O Lord, mark iniquities, Lord, who can stand? But with you is forgiveness, that you may be revered” (Ps 130:3-4). Since no one can stand if God deals with us like we do, he deals with us in his mercy and forgiveness. God remains good to humans, even if the latter are not good to him. He deals with us in his generosity. God is good to us not because we are good, but because he is good. This is the way the parable answers the murmuring of the Pharisees. When Jesus accepted the prostitutes, tax collectors and sinners to table fellowship, the Pharisees complained that he was thereby making sinners on par with them who were perfect observers of the law. For the Pharisees, they stand above transgressors of the law, and they deserve a reward that was much higher than sinners’. But Jesus answered that that God is extremely generous that he could even give equal pay for unequal work. What counts, in other words, is the mercy of God, not our own merits! What does this imply for the community? This means that since all are recipients of his mercy, members should rejoice whenever they receive gifts from God. Gifts are not earned; they are simply given! There is therefore no reason to be envious, when someone receives more than the others. The Christian community has no room for people who cannot bear to see others surpass them in gifts or talents. On the contrary, all have to rejoice in that, despite their unworthiness, God remains generous to them with his gifts!

Small Infractions in the Community--What Should Be Done with Transgressors?

2011-09-10T08:59:00.003+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-Third Sunday of Year A, Matthew 18:21-35, September 11, 2011

In a mid-section of a daily, a report is told of a husband named Rosendo, 24, who locked her wife Joanna, 22, in a room and did not give her any food for a whole day just because she failed to wash her pants. But Joanna had had enough of it. Reporting to a police station in Cubao, Quezon City, she claimed that her hubby, a security guard, punched her after she failed to wash the pants that he was supposed to wear to work. She claimed that when Rosendo came home at about 9 pm one evening, she asked him money for food because she was so hungry; instead, her husband beat her up. The report does not tell us what happened afterward, but one can surmise that their case having gone to the police blotter, their marriage is on the rocks, if not on the verge of being destroyed. It is far cry from the ideal, which is a community of life and love. Human weakness that shows itself in the inability to love and care for each other and to be responsible for one another, destroys the unity that binds them. For what the man does to the woman ultimately affects the covenant of life and love.

Like marriage, the Church has also an ideal. If we limit ourselves to the second reading today, we learn that for Paul, the Church, having been freed from law, sin and death, ought to be a community that lives for God: “None of us lives as his own master and none of us dies as his own master. While we live we are responsible to the Lord and when we die, we die as his servants. Both in life and in death, we are the Lord’s” (Rom 14:7). This means that the existence of the Christian is bound to the risen Christ as his Lord; he shares in his life. In everything he does, his purpose is to be of service to God in Christ. At the same time, he is bound to the other members of the Christian community because these share in the life of the risen Lord. They serve the risen Lord through service to the fellowship. In other words, the evidence that one belongs to the community is exhibited by one’s attitude toward the other members in the fellowship. In the Christian community, then, every Christian is bound to the other. This is why St Paul says: “If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members shall its joy” (1 Cor 12:24). The whole community is involved in anything that a member does, whether good or bad.

Consequently, when a member sins against another, the persons affected are not just the two of them. When Joanna reported the maltreatment by Rosendo to the police, the husband and the wife were not the only ones involved in the scandal. Their children surely suffered public ridicule. When a wife commits adultery, it is not only her husband who is affected; the children live through the hell of it all, and the whole family is in a mess. The same is true of the Christian fellowship. When a member sins against another, the Christian community experiences cracks in its unity and the whole body suffers. Too often, even among Catholics, this dimension of sin is missed. Many think that when they sin, it is God alone whom the offended, or the brother directly involved. Because of this misunderstanding about the nature of sin, the sacrament of reconciliation is little understood. A little appreciation of this sacrament indicates that when someone sins, he sins not only against God and the person involved, but against the whole Christian community, to which the sinning member and the offended party are closely bound spiritually, theologically and sociologically. In the Church, every sin has a social dimension that always involves the whole body, even though it is not personally felt by every member.

Precisely because the members suffer from the sin committed by a single member, the cracks in the unity of the community must be repaired. But in order to preserve the unity and restore the fellowship, what is necessary? Vengeance, of course, is out of question. In the fellowship of mind and heart, only forgiveness can restore the broken relationship. Of course, here we are not dealing with infractions that are very serious. We are concerned here with infractions that are committed every day, most of them trivial and unintentional. Those that are serious were the subject of the Gospel last Sunday. This Sunday’s has to do with trespasses that are commonly encountered in Christian living with others, but that have to be resolved because they affect the fellowship. One cannot but be concerned with them especially once they are repeated. Which explains the question of Peter: “Lord, when my brother wrongs me, how often must I forgive him? Seven times?” (Matt 18:21). Peter, of course, knows that the infraction must be repaired by forgiveness. The sense of the question, however, seems to suppose that the sin of the brother has been repeatedly committed despite admonition by community members, and therefore have become a straining factor in the relationship and fellowship of love.

For Jesus, to the forgiveness of such infractions, there cannot be any limitations: “’No,’ Jesus replied, ‘not seven times; I say, seventy times seven times” (Matt 18:22). Because they are disruptive of the fellowship, such sins must be forgiven without limit, because to do otherwise would deprive the community of its wholeness. In forgiving the brother, the offended party not only frees the offender from the bondage of sin; the injured member is himself given freedom, for without forgiveness, his heart will be filled with resentment and bitterness, which may even take a permanent home in it. And once they pollute the mind and poison the heart, it is possible that resentment and bitter will irreparably destroy the relationship and the fellowship. But this is not to say that it would be easy to forgive. There is no problem if the infraction is repeatedly only once. But if it is repeated say fifty times, that certainly calls for a really Christian disposition—much like forgiving one’s enemies, or turning the other cheek to one who slaps the right one.

Because it is difficult to forgive without limit, Matthew holds up the forgiveness of God as a model to imitate by telling us the parable of the merciless official (Matt 18:21-35). To forgive once is human, but to forgive without limit is divine. Human nature sets limits to forgiveness, but what is distinctively Christian is to remove them. God is always lavish in his forgiveness. This is the main point of the parable, well illustrated by the king who easily cancelled the debt of his servant who owed him ten thousand talents, something like fifty billion pesos in today’s currency exchange. Indeed, even when we do not ask for it, God already gives us. “While we were still sinners, God died for us” (Rom 5:8).

Big Infractions in the Community--Should the Culprits Be Liquidated?

2011-09-02T06:38:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-Third Sunday of Year A, Matt 18:15-20, September 4, 2011

Like illicit drugs, kidnappings break the order of society. What is to be done to the people behind them? It is interesting to recall that at a anti-kidnapping summit during the administration of former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo who launched a high-profile crackdown on kidnappings, ordering the Philippine the Philippine National Police to neutralize all kidnap-for-ransom gangs, government officials and private-sector representatives recommended the creation of one anti-kidnap body to handle all kidnap cases. But one speaker at the summit, Rodrigo Duterte of Davao City, declared that summary execution of criminals was the most effective way to stop kidnapping and illicit drugs. A newspaper quoted him as saying that “the intention of the criminals is to instill fear in their victims and kill them. What should we do, but kill them also.” According to the report, some Filipino-Chinese businessmen welcomed Duterte’s hardline stance against members of kidnap-for-ransom gangs—that is, liquidate them.

One wonders whether such instance could be adopted in a Christian community. Should someone who causes destruction be purged from, if not liquidated in, the community? How, indeed, should the community deal with a member whose life or behavior is destructive of the community? Normally, human wisdom demands that the community must be saved from a destructive member. In the name of discipline, for example, we expel from the school students who disregard rules and regulations. The honor of the school must be maintained. It is probably for the same reason that some lay people would wish priests who commit pedophilia be defrocked—they are a disgrace to the Church. Some clamor for zero tolerance. But it seems that the Gospel today does not share that outlook. What matters is not to maintain the purity or honor of the community, but to win back the erring brother. It seems that the gospel says nothing about protecting the community from the wayward member; it is more concerned with bringing back the erring brother to the fellowship: “you have won your brother over” (Matt 18:15b).

How is this done? The Gospel outlines a three-step procedure in reinstating the brother to the fellowship. The first step: “If your brother should commit some wrong against you, go and point out his fault, but keep it between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over” (Matt 18:15). It may be noted that the erring brother is to be informed of his fault. This is an important detail, because many times people are judged without even knowing the wrong they have done—they are simply not aware of it. In addition, confidentiality is emphasized. There is really nothing to be gained by embarrassing an errant brother before the community—it merely deepens the rift, and places him on the defensive to protect his name. The atmosphere of fellowship is protected when the peccant brother is not shamed before the community. On the other hand, by discussing the matter privately, one respects the ego needs and honor of the brother who sins. That way, his reputation is saved and scandal is avoided.

If the private admonition fails to make him realize his sin and bring him to repentance, then the help of one or two other brothers are invoked: “If he does not listen, summon someone, so that every case may stand on the word of two or three witnesses” (Matt 18:16). Obviously, this is an echo of an Old Testament procedure on criminal offense (“a judicial fact shall be established only on the testimony of two or more witnesses”[Deut 19:15]) and of a practice among the Qumranites (1QS 5:25-6:2). One surmises that the purpose of summoning witnesses is, negatively, to avoid serious misjudgment, for the demands may be more than what is necessary, for which reason the erring brother might resist, and, positively, to establish the full truth, which is made possible by the different ways of looking at the problem by the other witnesses. If this fails, the community is convoked: “If he ignores them, refer it to the church” (Matt 18:17). It is the totality of the community members that gives the last word, assured as it is of Christ’s presence: “When two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in their midst” (Matt 18:20). Some scholars think the assurance “that whatever you declare bound on earth shall be held bound in heaven and whatever you declared loosed on earth shall be held loosed in heaven” (Matt 18:18) has reference to God’s ratification at the last judgment. But the sense of the text seems to be that the decision of the community has the authority and sanction in heaven.

“If he ignores even the church, then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector” (Matt 18:17). This last step is usually taken to mean that if the erring brother refuses to listen even to the Church, he must be expelled. It is argued that the thought behind treating the sinful brother like a Gentile or tax collector is this—just as an observant Jew would avoid their company, so a Christian must separate himself from the sinful member who refuses to acknowledge his sin and repent. This finds support in St Paul who says that ties with a peccant brother is severed: “If anyone will not obey our injunction, delivered through this letter, single him out to be ostracized that he may be ashamed of his conduct” (2 Thess 3:14). But this seems not to be the only way of understanding the saying. For one thing, the fundamental question that must be asked is what would this text mean to a community like Matthew’s, that is composed of Jews and Gentiles. It cannot be doubted that the Church of Matthew was a mixed Jewish-Gentile community. For another, Matthew presents Jesus as someone interested in preaching the good news to the Gentiles (Matt 28:19). Also, he invited a tax collector to join the group of disciples (Matt 9:9). In light of this, the injunction can only mean that the erring brother who refuses to listen to the Church must, according to Raymond Brown, “be the subject of outreach and concern in imitation of a Jesus who was so interested in searching out tax collectors that he was accused of being their friend (11:19).” This means “that the community is far from finished with brothers and sisters against whom it has had to invoke authority.”

What Does It Mean to Follow Jesus?

2011-08-24T03:22:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-Second Sunday of Year A, Matthew 16:21-27, August 28, 2011

Almost a decade ago, June 19, 2002 to be exact, even as then US President George Bush prepared to make a major Mideast policy statement, an Islamic extremist detonated nail-studded explosives in a Jerusalem city bus crowded with students and office workers, killing himself and 19 passengers, injuring 55 people, sending bodies flying through the windows and peeling off the roof and sides. This was the deadliest attack in Jerusalem since February 25, 1996 when 26 people were killed in a bus explosion. According to the report of the Associated Press, Hamas, an Islamic militant group, claimed responsibility for the blast, identifying the assailant as Mohammed al-Ghoul, 22, from the Al Faras refugee camp near the city of Nablus in the West Bank. Abdel Aziz Rantisi, a Hamas leader in the Gaza Strip, said that their goal in these suicide attacks was the withdrawal of Israel from the West Bank and Gaza Strip, as they did not have the power to liberate all Palestine through such attacks, although one remembers that Hamas leaders in the past used to say that their main objective was the destruction of Israel. Anyhow, though one must condemn such form of violence, one can only remark at how relentless Palestinians stick with their goal. They could even sacrifice their lives in pursuit of that objective.

Would that Christians were as relentless in their pursuit of Christian objectives! For it appears that the exercise of our being Christian leaves much to be desired. For some, being Christian means professing the Roman Catholic faith against every effort of born-again Christians to demonstrate how false the Roman Catholic Church is—it is being a catolico cerrado, even though one does not notice how well they exercise their profession of faith. For others, being Christian is identified with doing what the so-called practicing Catholics are supposed to do—go to Mass on Sunday, abstain on Friday, go to confession and receive other sacraments, and die Catholic. This brand of Catholicism, one notices, is often extremely individualistic, without regard for the common aspiration of the community of Christians, like the parish or the diocese. Against this background, one cannot therefore fail to notice what is remarkable with the Hamas! One can only hope that Christians are as unyielding in their enthusiasm for Christian values that the community needs—like peace and justice.

Still, being Christian is more than that—it is more than an ideology to pursue. In today’s Gospel, Matthew outlines for us the basics of discipleship. First of all, it is a profession of Jesus as the Messiah, as was seen in the Gospel last Sunday. But not just any kind of Messiah—he is a crucified Messiah: “From then on Jesus [the Messiah] started to indicate to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly there at the hands of the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and to be put to death, and raised up on the third day” (Matt 16:21). The first reading gives us a model of what it means to accept the implication of a profession of faith. Jeremiah’s faith in a God who placed his words in his mouth, setting him over nations and kingdoms to root up and to tear down, to destroy and to demolish, to build and to plant (Jer 1:7-10), brought him derision and reproach, making him the object of laughter and mockery (Jer 20:7-8). Similarly, a profession of belief in the messiahship of Jesus entails a living out of that faith in sharing the life and death of the Messiah. Just to make sure that this is not misunderstood, Matthew tells us that when Peter remonstrated Jesus that the Messiah could not suffer and die, tagged him—this man Peter who a moment ago was called blessed—with a harsh appellation, “Satan,” who was trying to make the Messiah trip and fall (Matt 16:22). Matthew seems to portray the apostle Peter as adhering only to a theology of glory and power. That is why Jesus corrected him by offering him a theology of the cross. To profess belief in the messiahship of Jesus is to share in his life and destiny.

How does one share in the life and death of the Messiah? Jesus explained to his followers the practical implications of the theology of the cross: “If a man wishes to come after me, he must deny his very self, take up his cross, and begin to follow in my footsteps” (Matt 16:24). In Filipino popular religiosity, self-denial is sometimes identified with being an ascetic, or engaging in self-flagellation, as is done in some parts of Luzon during Holy Week. Still, one can be an ascetic or a self-flagellant and still remain self-centered. Such a view of self-denial could justify and encourage various forms of oppression. Rather, denying oneself on the one hand implies the affirmation of one’s being a child of God and therefore subordination of his will and desire to God’s will as expressed in the life of Jesus. Obviously, this entails negation of self-centeredness, a complete severance from what people crave after—all forms of self-seeking and self-promotion. It means death to pride, selfishness, and lust for pleasure and power. It means no to self-assertion. On the other hand, it means replacing one’s very “I” with Christ, who alone is the real wealth, all others being counted as rubbish (Phil 3:8b).

In saying that one must take up the cross, Jesus did not mean that this has to be done literally, as do some flagellantes during Holy Week, although it could lead to that. What is meant here is the acceptance of suffering entailed in following Jesus—the rejection and ridicule, opposition and sacrifice of one’s very life, which could literally include carrying the cross and being crucified in it, though today there are other ways of doing this. In following the Lord, one is formed in the pattern of his death. In the words of St Paul, I wish to know “how to share in his sufferings by being formed into the pattern of his death” (Phil 3:10). That way, one carries in his body the death of Jesus: “We are afflicted in every way possible, but we are not crushed; full of doubts, we never despair. We are persecuted but never abandoned; we are struck down but never destroyed. Continually we carry about in our bodies the dying of Jesus so that in our bodies the life of Jesus may be revealed. While we live, we are constantly being delivered to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be revealed in our mortal bodies” (2 Cor 4:8-11). This mystery of the cross is likewise reflected in a deutero-Pauline letter; “Even now I find my joy in the suffering I endure for you. In my own flesh I fill up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of his body, the Church” (Col 1:24).

Do Weak People Have a Place of Leadership in the Church?

2011-08-18T09:34:00.004+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twenty-First Sunday of Year A, Matthew 16:13-21, August 21, 2011

Ever since sex scandals rocked the Roman Catholic Church in the United States, the local Church in America has never been the same. Many people believe that pedophilia in the ranks of the clergy diminished their trust in Church leadership. No wonder, efforts have been made to restore confidence. The US Bishops, for example, decided a few years back to bar priest-abusers from any position that requires face-to-face contact with parishioners, removing them from parish work, and in some cases to defrock them entirely. Later on, in a move that was less restrictive than the zero-tolerance policy adopted by the American Bishops, the leaders of the US religious orders decided that sexually abusive priests be kept away from children, but not expelled. The document issued by the Conference of Major Superiors of Men states that “these religious priests or brothers who have molested children or adolescents have broken the bonds of trust invested in them. We feel this hurt deeply.” According to a wire from the Associated Press, victims advocates criticized the document by saying that it gives too much freedom in disciplining guilty priests. Which makes people wonder: why are weak and wounded priests given position of leadership in the Church?

I am not sure if today’s Gospel is of any help. But Roman Catholicism has always read the pericope in terms of Petrine leadership. The story in Matthew, like that of Mark, begins with an opinion poll on how people perceived Jesus. People outside thought that he was John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah or one of the prophets. There was, of course, speculation that he was John the Baptist who returned from the dead (Matt 14:1). Elijah, who went up to heaven (2 Kings 2:11), was expected to return (Mal 3:1.23). People might have also thought that he was Jeremiah, because he relived the prophet’s experience of rejection and suffering. Or, they identified him with the prophets of old (Deut 18:15). It seems, however, that this range of opinion is aimed at providing a foil for the assertion of Peter: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matt 16:17). Peter’s confession of Jesus’ messiahship is given on behalf of the community of disciples. But for Matthew—and this is distinctive of him— this is not simply a personal assessment of Peter. The perception of who Jesus really is does not come from human speculation, but from divine revelation: “Blest are you, Simon son of Jonah! No mere man has revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father” (Matt 16:17). Jesus called him blessed, because God has chosen Peter to be the recipient of this divine revelation.

Precisely because he is the recipient of that revelation, Jesus constituted him the rock of the Church he was to establish by calling him Petros, meaning rock. In the words of Georg Schwaiger, Peter is to guarantee stability and security, permanence and unity. Christ is himself the foundation of the Church, but this foundation appears visibly in Peter. Of course, it has been objected that Peter cannot be identified with rock, for the original Greek gives Petros for Peter and petra for rock. But the problem is only apparent, because in the Aramaic language that Jesus spoke, the distinction does not exist. The Aramaic word for both is simply kepha. This, however, cannot be preserved is a Greek translation, because petra, which is feminine, cannot be applied to Peter. Thus the Protestant scholar Howard Clark Kee: “Peter’s nickname now becomes the basis for a play on words: Peter (Kepha) is to be the rock on which the Church will be built.” Accordingly, in the New Testament, Peter is named first in the post-resurrection list of the Eleven, plays a significant role in the election of Matthias, is a preacher in the Jerusalem church and spokesman for the Christian community, the object of miraculous divine care, and presides at the first council in Jerusalem.

And yet, it may be asked: on the basis of what personal merit was Peter chosen to be the rock? It seems that there was no personal basis at all. Judged from worldly standards, he had no special qualification. Unlike the scribes, he was not a theologian or a scholar of the Torah, he had no special social position nor was he wealthy. On the contrary, if one judges him from his portrayal by Mark, Peter was a man of weak faith and had many failures. Jesus accused him of being on the side of men rather than of God (Mark 8:27-33). He rebuked him for failing to stay and watch. Indeed, Peter denied the Lord, probably even to the point of cursing him (Mark 14:37.71). One wonders then why, despite all these, God chose him to be the honored recipient of the fundamental revelation of Jesus’ messiahship, and why Jesus himself chose him to be the rock. Obviously, “flesh and blood,” the earthly capacities of the weak man that is Peter, are not responsible for the choice. It was simply God’s pleasure. Which reminds us that the secrets of the Kingdom of God are revealed only to the little ones, to the unworthy, out of God’s pleasure: “Father, Lord of heaven and earth, to you I offer praise; for what you have hidden from the learned and the clever you have revealed to merest children. Father, it is true. You have graciously willed it so” (Matt 11:25-26).

If the Church was placed in the hands of Peter who was weak, one wonders why people are scandalized when they discover that Church leaders exhibit some frailness or weakness. Weakness is a part of being Church, precisely because, apart from being divine, it is also human, and also because it is put in the hands of weak, frail people. If the Church is strong, it is because God is, and not because of its strong leaders. Personally, whenever the media exposes the weakness of the Church, I am not scandalized. My faith has not been shaken, because I know the Church is in the hand of God. When the late John Paul II, ending the World Youth Day celebrations in Toronto with a big outdoor Mass, urged the drenched 800,000 to stand by the Roman Catholic Church, not letting “be discouraged by the sins and failings of her members,” he was obviously right. The sex scandals in the US are not the first, nor will they be the last. Indeed, if Christ entrusted the Church to weak and frail leaders, it could only mean that he trust them so much—and he even guaranteed them with his presence until the end of the world (Matt 28:30). There is therefore no reason for me to trust them less than God himself does. If God chooses weak leaders for his Church, it is to show that the Church is his, not men’s; Church leaders are there to serve it, not to dominate God’s people. The Church lives, and remains holy, despite its weak and sinful leaders. Therefore, for a leader, there is no substitute for acceptance of weakness, sinfulness and failures. When a weak, scared and sinful leader trusts himself, he becomes arrogant, a hypocrite, and tries to cover up his weakness, sins and failures by using or even "killing" other members to create the appearance of godliness or aura of holiness around himself. But nothing is hidden that is not made known.

Can Non-Christians Be Saved?

2011-08-11T12:54:00.003+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Twentieth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 15:21-28, August 14, 2011.

When it comes to the doctrine of salvation, there still seems to be exclusivism in the teaching of many ecclesial bodies and sects. In Isang Pagbubunyag sa Iglesia ni Cristo, the following is claimed by the Church that Manalo founded: “Jesus taught that a person needs to enter into him in order to be saved… In Col 1:18, it says: ‘And he is the head of the body, the church… Christ is the head and the Church is Christ’s body. Whoever enters into Christ, enters into Christ’s head… Therefore, in order for a person to be saved, he must become a member of the Iglesia ni Cristo.” D. Platt’s Counterfeit!, from which the quote was lifted, states that according to the teaching of the Jehovah’s witnesses, only 144,000 will share in the heavenly glory, because this is plainly shown in the Scriptures. If this is true, will the more than two billion people in the world who do not belong to the Iglesia ni Cristo, or who are outside the 144,000, not share in God’s glory? Is one saved exclusively on the basis of the body he enters into, or of a required number? Will it be only on the basis of who are able to get into an island, as in the case of Ruben Ecleo’s PBMA which teaches that only those who come to Dinagat will be saved from the coming cataclysm? What does the Bible really say of salvation of peoples?

The fate of other people, their salvation, was a great concern of the early Church. It was even so crucial not only in the discussion but also in the division of the first Christians. In its early history, Israel did not consider the Gentiles within the purview of salvation. For one thing, there was, as Grelot and Pierron note, scarcely anytime that the existence of Israel as a nation was not threatened, if not ravished, by the Gentile nations, caught as she was in the currents of international politics. If they opposed Israel which was the depository of essential values that pertain to salvation, they thereby set themselves in opposition to God’s plan. For another, the Gentiles represent paganism, idolatry and tyranny. Therefore, in order that Israel would not be contaminated by their pagan and idolatrous worship and tyrannical rule, the Israelites tried to separate themselves from these nations. Indeed, the community of Israel would not even permit Gentiles to become membership (cf Deut 23:2-8). There cannot be any salvation for these pagans. This religious culture seems to be the backdrop of today’s Gospel. When a Canaanite woman came to Jesus so that her daughter, who was tormented by a demon, could be healed, and his disciples told him about it, Jesus replied: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Mark 15:24). In fact, he said to the woman, “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs” (Mark 15:26) “Children”, of course, represents Israel, while “dogs” is a Jewish term of contempt for Gentiles.

But the exile of the Jews to Babylon transformed their view of the Gentiles. In Isaiah, for instance, the prophet envisages a time when nations will come to Jerusalem to learn the law: “Many nations shall come and say: ‘Come, let us climb the Lord’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths” (Isa 2:2-3). The nations will be converted, justice will be established, peace will reign and all will worship one God. Thus the first reading: “My salvation is about to come, my justice, about to be revealed. And all foreigners who join themselves to the Lord and becoming his servants—them I will bring to my holy mountain, and make joyful in my house of prayer.. for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples” (Isa 56:1.6-7). In this Isaianic tradition, which has a universalist outlook, all will share in the one salvation of God, but of course, this happens through Israel. No wonder, St Paul could write Timothy: “God wants all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4). This is why, despite the earlier claim that he was sent only to the house of Israel, Jesus expelled the demon from the daughter of the Canaanite (Matt 15:28).

In principle, therefore, all Gentiles can share in the ultimate salvation. And just as Isaiah envisaged that the Gentiles will come to the Lord through Israel, so in the new order, all nations will receive salvation through the new Israel, Jesus himself. “God has not destined us for wrath, but for acquiring salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thess 5:9). In the plan of God, then, salvation is not dependent on a required number, or limited to a sect, or to those who can get into an island in time for the great catastrophe. No! All nations are included in God’s plan of salvation in Jesus Christ. This biblical faith is likewise the faith of the Catholic Church. Says the Declaration Dominus Iesus on the Unicity and Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church: “It must therefore be firmly believed as a truth of Catholic faith that the universal salvific will of the One and Triune God is offered and accomplished once for all in the mystery of the incarnation, death and resurrection of the Son of God” (n 14).

But how does a man or woman, Gentile or not, respond to God’s offer of salvation? In today’s Gospel, Matthew tells us that the response of faith is salvific. When the woman insisted, saying, “Please, Lord, even the dogs eat the leavings that fall for their masters’ table,” Jesus told her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your wish will come to pass” And Matthew adds that that very moment, her daughter got better (Matt 15:27-29). By faith of course is not meant simple trust or confidence. Rather, in the words of the same Declaration, it is “by which man freely entrusts his entire self to God, offering the full submission of intellect and will to God who reveals, and freely assenting to the revelation given by him. Faith is a gift of grace: in order to have faith, the grace of God must come first and give assistance, there must also be the interior helps of the Holy Spirit, who moves the heart and converts it to God, who opens the eyes of the mind and gives to everyone joy and ease in assenting to and believing in the truth. The obedience of faith implies acceptance of the truth of Christ’s revelation, guaranteed by God, who is Truth itself: faith is first of all a personal adherence of man to God. At the same time, and inseparably, it is a free assent to the whole truth that God has revealed. Faith, therefore, as a gift of God and as a supernatural virtue infused by him, involves dual adherence: to God who reveals and to the truth which he reveals, out of the trust which one has in him who speaks. Thus, we must believe in no one but God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit” (n 7).

Does God Come To Save His People in the Midst of Crisis?

2011-08-03T11:06:00.001+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Nineteenth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 14:22-33, August 7, 2011

On the question whether it was enough to rely on the technological revolution without reference to God, the late John Paul II once said: “Christ alone is the cornerstone on which it is possible to build one’s existence. The 20th century often tried to do without reference to Him. It ended by actually building that city against man.” Indeed, there has been much change in man’s attitude to God in the 20th century. Even in this country, the culture tends to do away with the spiritual dimension of life. In the countryside, fifty years ago, once the bell rang for the six o’clock, the whole family gathered in front of their altar to pray the angelus and rosary; and seldom does house construction provide for a family altar. Now, they gather for such primetime dramas as “Amaya” or “Time of My Life” Indeed, how many people really make God the center of their lives? But at the same time, a man of faith asks—why does God allow these things to happen? Why does He not reverse the cultural transformation? Why does he not visibly help those who wish to build brick by brick the city of God within the city of man? Why doesn’t he teach godless men a lesson that they cannot build the city of man without reference to the spiritual dimension of their lives?

It is possible that Elijah raised almost similar questions during his time. Around the middle of the ninth century, BC, God called him for a mission to bring back the people of Israel to true worship, because they had turned their back on Yahweh. Thus, he fearlessly spoke against the proselytizing efforts of the pagan queen Jezebel in the northern kingdom, and defeated her more than 800 prophets at Carmel (1 Kings 18). Since the queen was greatly displeased, Elijah ran for his life. And he felt frustrated that God seemed to have allowed him to battle against Jezebel alone, and that his mission had no success. So, he prayed for death: “This is enough, Lord! Take my life, for I am no better than my fathers” (1 Kgs 19:4b). But as the first reading indicates, it is not that God was absent in his fight against Jezebel; it is simply that he was not present in the way Elijah imagined: “A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord—but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire—but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound” (1 Kgs 19:11-12). Yes, the Lord was present, but in a new way—in a hidden way, as in a tiny whispering sound!

Today’s Gospel conveys almost similar point. The narrative is rather symbolic: the scene of the disciples gathered in a boat is unmistakably a picture of the Church, and the rough waves raised by strong headwinds that tossed the boat could be easily identified with the persecution that the early Church must have experienced. Like the persecutions by Jezebel, the persecutions that the early Church underwent shook the faith of the first Christians, some even giving it up. Others certainly raised questions whether Jesus still cared for them, since in their prayer they felt his absence. It is natural to expect that some would have wondered why Jesus allowed the persecutions to happen. But if the Gospel has anything to teach us, it is that in the direst need of the Church, when everything seems lost, Christ is there present in their midst: “Get hold of yourselves! It is I. Do not be afraid” (Matt 14:27). The saying “it is I” reminds us of Yahweh’s appearances in the Old Testament theophanies, as when God appeared to Moses saying “I am,” assuring him that Yahweh was there to save his people. The point of the Gospel is that Christ does not abandon the Church; when it faces crisis and persecutions, he is always there to save his people.

What is important is that every Church leader or every Christian puts his trust in him. To stress this point, Matthew tells us the story of Peter who asked permission from the Lord to share in his miraculous power, but frightened by the power of the sea, the wind and the waves, became scared, buckled and started sinking. Like that of the disciples in the boat, the scene of Peter eventually collapsing is a picture of every Church leader or Christian who, in the face of crisis, is caught in a conflict between faith and doubt. (It is even probable that this scene anticipates for the reader the later failure of Peter in the passion narrative, when he denied the Lord three times, fearing that he might share in the latter’s fate!) Of course, it is not easy to face persecutions. When the going gets tough, more than toughness is needed to get going—especially when one experiences reversals or setbacks, one after the other, and there is no one to turn to, since the Lord himself seems to be absent or not to care. But like the story of the small whispering sound in the first reading, the story of the Lord coming to Peter indicates that the Lord is with the Christian, though not necessarily in the way the believer expects him to be present. Despite all appearances to the contrary, he does not abandon the Christian in crisis—he is always there to save.

All the Christian needs is trust in his presence, and in his power to save. He is always there with him, watching him in prayer, even as Jesus was at the top of the mountain praying while the disciples were inside the boat (Matt 14:23). When the Christian faces crisis and persecution, Christ does not allow him to disappear, even as Jesus did not allow Peter to sink entirely (Matt 14:31). But it is faith that is decisive, it is faith that saves (Matt 14:32), for faith knows that God cares, despite appearances to the contrary. Which brings to mind the song Footprints in the Sand, a story about a believer who dreamed he was walking with the Lord along the beach. Scenes from his life flashed across the sky, and for each scene, he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonging to him, the other to the Lord. In a remarkable dialogue, the believer asked: “Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you’d walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.” But the Lord replied: “My son, my precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.” Of course, being saved does not always mean being freed from death; it could also mean being saved even in death.

Contraceptives, Population, Poverty and Unjust Economic Order

2011-07-30T14:36:00.003+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Eighteenth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 14:13-21, July 31, 2011

Nothing probably more indicates the wide economic gulf between the rich and the poor than the food they eat, in both quality and quantity. In the United States, the problem is whether it is healthier to eat beef or not. It is the American food—TV commercials say—and it is the food most Americans eat virtually every day. But as notes Richard Corliss, in “Should We All Be Vegetarians?” it is for many an obscene cuisine. More and more Americans have started going vegetarian, believing that it would help them live longer and healthier lives. But, ironically, in other parts of the globe, a choice between beef and vegetables is a luxury, nay, a dream. Reuters, for instance, reported sometime ago that widespread food shortages and rampant AIDS have put nearly 13M southern Africans on the very edge of survival. The region’s crisis—the worst since the 1992 drought—was brought about by a combination of severe draught, floods, economic decline and government mismanagement. According to Reuters, the residual debilitating effect of past conflicts and the region’s extremely high AIDS infection rate that has killed many farmers and left millions of orphans, aggravated the famine.

The reality of hungry millions recalls the Gospel today. According to Matthew, when Jesus disembarked and saw a vast throng in a deserted place, “his heart was moved with pity” (Matt 14:14). Obviously, the miracle story on the multiplication of the loaves is about the compassion of Jesus on the about 5,000 men, not including the women and children, who in following him have experienced hunger. This story is quite relevant. For one thing, this serves as a corrective to the idea that limits the mission of Jesus to the spiritual realm. For some people, the Church should have nothing to do with the material problems of humanity; her province is only the Bible and the altar. For another, it shows us that Jesus was in touch with the problems of society, and that he tried to meet what was needed by the hungry crowd—food. What is implied here goes beyond the exercise of one of the corporal works of mercy. Rather, it has reference to the unjust social structure in which millions of people are condemned to hunger and poverty. That countless people go to bed without food because they are deprived of it politically, socially, and economically—this is a moral evil that cries to heaven for an answer. In the Old Testament, when Israel was journeying in the desert, God gave them flesh to eat in the evening and fill of bread in the morning. So the people would not go hungry, he provided them with quail and manna in the desert of Sin (Exod 16:7-8.13-14).

Hunger, then, is a social problem that seeks solution. How is this solved? Today, in view of the controversy spawned by the RH Bill, some columnists and editorialists write that the single obstacle to progress is the Roman Catholic Church for its refusal to countenance measures to curb population growth. Beneath this observation is, of course, the perception that the problem is basically that too numerous are the mouths to feed. This easily calls to mind the perception of Jesus’ disciples in the Gospel. Seeing the thousands of hungry folks, the disciples suggested to Jesus to dismiss the crowd so they could go to the villages and buy some food for themselves (Matt 14:15). Today, a number of experts propagate a Malthusian outlook, anticipating the collapse of civilization if population growth remains unchecked. Too many women and men divide among themselves the small pie. Since it is their teaching that hunger and poverty result from population growth, they flood us with condoms, pills, and all kinds of anti-life gadgets. The fewer the family members, the more comfortable life is.

The Gospel, however, does not see the problem this way. While an unchecked population increase is to be recognized as a problem, a more fundamental one is the unjust sharing of the world’s goods—resources, knowledge, power, technology— which drives people to poverty and hunger. Far from being a problem of dismissing the crowd, Jesus saw the problem as one of breaking and sharing the bread available. Thus, he took the five loaves, broke them, and gave them to the disciples to distribute (Matt 14:19). Because the loaves were broken and shared, a big miracle happened—all those present, thousands of men, women and children, ate their fill, and when the fragments were gathered up, these filled twelve baskets (Matt 14:20-21). What are we to say in connection with this miracle story? We say that the basic problem today is not so much the growth of the population, but that only a small percentage of it—those in the West—have the greater share of the world’s goods, while the many have to content themselves with what falls from the rich countries’ table.

Indeed, rich nations, rather than share their technical know-how, resources, technology and other goods, would even take advantage of the poor. They would, for example, not countenance balanced trade relations. John Paul II, in his Sollicitudo rei socialis, emphasizing that imperialism is the cause of deteriorating poverty, points out that rich countries use mechanisms to get the wealth of poorer nations: “One must denounce the existence of economic, financial, and social mechanisms which, although they are manipulated by people, often function almost automatically, thus accentuating the situation of wealth for some and poverty for the rest. These mechanisms, which are maneuvered directly or indirectly by the more developed countries, by their very functioning favor the interests of the people manipulating them. But in the end, they suffocate or condition the economies of the less developed countries” (n 16).

It has been noted by many scholars that the Gospel today has Eucharistic overtones. One, of course, does not have quarrel with that interpretation. The fact that the wording in v 19 (“He took the five loaves and two fish, looked up to heaven, blessed and broke them, and gave the loaves to the disciples”) recalls the words of Institution is an indication of its Eucharistic allusion. But if this means anything, it is that a correct understanding of the meaning of the Eucharist must take into account the problem of hunger.*

As Christians, What Should Be Our All-Consuming Passion in Life?

2011-07-21T04:04:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Seventeenth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 13:44-52, July 24, 2011

A few years back, when the World Cup tournament was held in Seoul, one thing that no visitor could have failed to notice was the ubiquity of the elliptical logo of South Korea’s largest company: Samsung. According to Brad Stone who described it in his Time article “Samsung in Bloom,” its liquid-crystal-display TVs dotted public parks, drawing hundreds of soccer fans to watch the game during the tournament. Everywhere, billboard after billboard featured its latest gadget. Why so? Samsung execs’ goal was to triple their $24.4B in worldwide revenues and to surpass Sony, which was making billions of dollars. At a time when most companies were trying to stay afloat amid a slumping market and sluggish economy, Stone said that this was a bold goal, but this was backed by a $50M US advertising campaign during that time. In its effort to make its logo recognizable instantly in the US, it spent $15M to sponsor the Winter Olympics. Indeed, one is not mistaken in saying that its execs were trying to use all their means to present Samsung the most valuable brand so that consumers at home and abroad will, according to Stone, think “wow” instead of “cheapo knockoff electronic brand.”

If the engrossing passion of the Samsung execs’ was to unseat Sony, what is supposed to be the all-consuming concern of the Christian community? For Matthew, of value so supreme that the Christian community must prefer it above all else is the Kingdom of God. But what is this Kingdom that should be the focus of our Christian life? There are various ways of describing it, but as we noted a few times before, if we wish to come to a knowledge of it, the shortest way is to understanding the meaning of the Lord’s Prayer. After all, it is a prayer for its coming. According to the “Our Father,” the kingdom is a community in which all women and men composing it live in fraternal love and unity under the fatherhood of God. Instead of pursuing their own plans, they do the will of God in the same way that it is done in heaven. In this community, all human hunger—for truth, for food, for love, for knowledge, etc.—is satisfied. It is a community of forgiveness and love, freed from all forms of evil. Since this is the only reality that can fulfill and satisfy our longings, today’s Gospel compares it with a hidden treasure or a fine pearl. As nothing can compare the happiness it will bring once we become part of it, or once it becomes our possession, the parable exhorts us to find it.

While that is how the Gospel parables view the Kingdom of God, not all Christians have that perception, or even if all do, many certainly are not convinced of it in practice. Although it is the most valuable reality, people seem to give a different weight to its value. If newspapers’ headlines are any indication of what seems to be of supreme importance to most people, it is certainly the filthy lucre. Some time ago, so much fuss was made of US Ambassador’s statement that corruption was widespread in the Philippine government, but, even to date, that is not far from the truth. As Emmanuel de Dios, in “Corruption and Fall,” Between Fires: Fifteen Perspectives on the Estrada Crisis, has noted, it is lamented but also countenanced as a fact of life. And at the bottom of it all is wealth acquisition. Says Egmidio Dacanay in an article in Kilosbayan: “For over half a century now, we have witnessed generations of politicians making service in government a vehicle for personal material aggrandizement at the expense of the vast majority who are denied their just share from the bounty of the land, remaining ill equipped to fend for their rights and becoming tools (by ignorance or extreme need) of their own exploitation. A culture of avarice has evolved in our land. Acquisition of wealth by foul means is accepted with apparent tolerance.” In other words, money is the most valuable thing, and many people really ran after it, believing that having plenty of it will assure them comfort, contentment and happiness.

If many people consider money as the most important value in life, and not the kingdom of God, it is because God’s reign is hidden from them, like a buried treasure. It is shrouded from their minds and eyes: “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it so much dawned on man what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor 2:9). Precisely because the kingdom, even though the highest good, is concealed from them, these people are content with lesser things, and for want of anything better, consider money and wealth the best. In order to recognize the incomparable value of the kingdom, one needs wisdom from above. The 1st Reading gives us an example of a man who was given such wisdom—Solomon. Said the king: “Give your servant an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong. For who is able to govern this vast people of yours?” (1 Kgs 3:9). Because of his wisdom, Solomon saw what was most precious: “The law of your mouth is to me more precious than thousands of gold and silver pieces…. For I love your command more than gold, however fine” (Responsorial Psalm). Only with this kind of wisdom will the Christian be able to know that the most important is not a wealthy, successful and comfortable life, but the community that Jesus wanted us to establish—the Kingdom of God.

Of course, the man who receives such wisdom is necessarily a spiritual man. As St Paul puts it: “The natural man does not accept what is taught by the Spirit of God. For him, that is absurdity. He cannot come to know such teaching because it must be appraised in a spiritual way. The spiritual man, on the other hand, can appraise everything, though he himself can be appraised by no one. For, who has known the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him? But we have the mind of Christ” (1 Cor 2:14-16). Understandably enough, people like St Francis of Assisi abandoned wealth and inheritance in favor of a life of poverty. They are able to recognize the folly of wealth, though many mortals could kill if only to amass it. One who has acquired the wisdom and mind of Christ counts as rubbish anything but the Kingdom of God. What St Paul said of his life in the Jewish law equally applies to wealth and other possessions that many of us, who are not yet spiritual men, and therefore who lack wisdom, continue to cherish: “But those things I used to consider gain I have now reappraised as loss in the light of Christ. I have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ. For his sake I have forfeited everything. I have counted all else as rubbish, so that Christ may be my wealth” (Phil 3:7-8). *

Forbearance in the Kingdom of God and in the Church

2011-07-14T21:46:00.001+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Sixteenth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 13:24-43, July 17, 2011

No sooner had former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo seated herself in Malacañang than rumors, agitations, and even recruitments for mass actions, to dislodge her have abounded. The most scary came when the lumpenproletariat and the shirtless, reportedly on orders from political leaders, stormed Malacañang on May 1, 2001—and failed—in a desperate attempt to grab power on the excuse that the government neglected the concerns of the poor. She was the barely three months on her seat. In the months that followed, People Power IV became a mantra for several people wishing to change the political leadership. The same is true of P-Noy’s Presidency. He has barely finished his first year in office, but his rating has already plummeted; people feel nothing has changed for the better. Despite his anti-corruption agenda and “Tuwid na Daan” slogan, not a single case has been filed against the Arroyo government. On the contrary, they claim things are getting worse. Like a fetus being aborted long before it could be viable, the Aquino government is now being vilified for its “KKK” (“Kabarilan, Kaklase, Kakampi”) brand and for its “there’s–nobody-home-in-Malacañang” style of leadership before it could really come to its own shape.

This attitude that shows no tolerance and patience for initial imperfection or error, whether in the government or in the Church, is a theme of today’s Gospel (Matt 13:24-43). We already noted last Sunday that if we wish to know the mind of Jesus concerning the parable, we have to remove the subsequent interpretations given to it by the Church, and merely focus on the one point that the parable makes. In this case, then, we shall confine ourselves to the first part of the Gospel reading (Matt 13:24-30). And to understand this, we have to see its background. At the time of Jesus, there were some Jewish groups that delimited the Jewish community to those who were devout. The Pharisees, for example, viewed as members of the community those who observed purity laws, food tithes and the Sabbath, and did not associate with people who did not keep them, like the tax collectors and those known as sinners. The Qumranites were even more extreme. They considered themselves the true Israel, maintaining ritual purity, ethical probity and spiritual readiness to battle against the sons of darkness, expelling those who could not follow their rigorous ethic.

In protest against these communities, and those who had no patience for human imperfection and sin, Jesus told the parable of the wheat and the weeds. The emphasis of the story is on the forbearance of the farmer. The farmer sowed good seed. At the first stage of growth, the darnel—the weeds—could not be noticed because, being botanically related to wheat, they were indistinguishable from it. When the wheat shoots came up, however, the darnel became visible. The slaves suggested to the farmer to pull out the darnel, but the latter refused because the roots of the darnel have become intertwined with those of the wheat so that one cannot uproot the one without endangering the other. Rather, he told them to wait until reaping time: “If you pull the weeds [darnel] you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest” (Matt 13:29b-30a). When harvest comes, that would be the appropriate time to separate the wheat from the darnel—the latter would be bundled for fuel while the former would be gathered into barns.

What is the meaning of the point of the parable? When confronted with evil, people usually do one of two alternatives. The first one is to flee from what they perceive as evil. Sects usually begin this way. They perceive that the society they live in is under the power of darkness, and so they create their own community that embodies the very goodness of God. This is what the Qumranites did. Having condemned the Jewish society as evil, they established a community near the Dead Sea. It was their intention to make their community the earthly counterpart of God’s Kingdom in the heavens. Of course, most of us do not behave this way. But while we do not make our own hermitage, we do flee from people whom we consider a liability to society by refusing to associate with them. At other times, we do confine them to a place far removed from what we consider the civil society—we may not imprison them, but prisoners are nearly their equivalent. The other alternative is to liquidate them. Since they were perceived to be the cause of the German defeat in the World War I, Hitler tried to exterminate the Jews. Josef Stalin, we know from the revelations of Nikita Kruschev, eliminated his enemies, real or imagined. In a past issue of Time magazine, we are told by Phil Zabriskie (“The Punisher,”) that Davao is “an oasis of peace in the middle of Philippines’ lush center of chaos” because kidnappers, bandits, communist rebels, drug pushers and other undesirables are made to disappear. It is almost on the same principle that certain people would engineer to unseat the present national leadership.

The point of the parable, however, has nothing to do with these alternatives. Rather, it counsels tolerance and forbearance. And this should be true of the Church, the seed of God’s Kingdom. The Christian community is a mixed bag of saints and sinners, and that has to be accepted. There should be no attempt to weed sinners out. Believers must be patient with them. For one thing, God alone knows what is hidden and what is in the heart of each one. We cannot play God. For another, like life, people are not that simple. The line that divides the good from the bad is so thin that most likely an effort to separate the one from the other will backfire. Today, certain people would like to see the Church purged of pedophile priests. That might be a logical thing to do, and the recourse that one must do to avoid entanglement with the law. But for a man of faith, it may not always be the evangelical decision to make. If faith can move mountains, it can also transform a darnel into wheat! In his book, Priesthood Imperiled, Bernard Haring tells of a priest who was sent to prison for perjury. During his incarceration, he became an apostle to his fellow prisoners. Later, his Bishop gave him a pastorate abroad in full recognition of the transformation that happened to him. In his new assignment, the parishioners—who did not know of his past—were thankful that they were given a saintly pastor.*

Will the Kingdom of God that Jesus Preached ever Come?

2011-07-08T06:19:00.001+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fifteenth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 13:1-9, July 10, 2011

When Luis Chavit Singson exploded the political bombshell more than a decade ago, accusing Joseph Ejercito Estrada of taking bribes from illegal gambling (jueteng) and tobacco excise tax, no one could have foreseen, least of all Estrada himself, that his presidency would end in ignominy. After all the citadel of his popularity seemed impregnable, the support of the urban poor bordered on fanaticism, the house of representatives was under his control, and he had the numbers in the senate. Indeed, not a few treated Singson’s disclosure was no more than a quarrel over turf. When former Sen. Teofisto Guingona accused Estrada in a privilege speech that prompted an investigation by the blue ribbon committee, many thought it was but another political exercise that would end nowhere, as in many of such investigations. Even the impeachment trial at the senate was viewed with skepticism. It being a political trial, Estrada had the certainty of being acquitted. But the fall-out from Singson’s revelation triggered a chain of events—however wary one was about them—leading to a bewildering conclusion that left political analysts standing agape. Estrada was whisked from office in a manner no one anticipated. At 2:30 PM of February 20, 200l, Estrada was flushed out of Malacañang, minutes before the crowd of anti-Erap rioters from Edsa could storm the presidential palace.

If initially no one ever thought that the Estrada presidency would end in the way it did, so probably no one among Jesus’ hearers believed that the word of the Kingdom, which he had been preaching, would ever succeed. This is the point of the parable of the sower, as Jesus told it. To see this point, we have to remove the allegorical interpretations that have been added by Matthew’s community to the story, considering that the original parable had only one point. If we are to discover Jesus’ intention, then, we have to limit ourselves to the earlier version of the parable (Matt 13:3-9). Although it is traditional to call it the parable of the sower, it is more descriptive of the story to title it as the parable of the seeds, for it is really about the seeds and their respective yield rather than the farmer or sower. Jesus told it in the context of the opposition to his ministry by the Jewish leaders and authorities. Many Jews rejected his preaching. Despite his sending of the apostles, very few believed in him and were converted. Would the proclamation of the word wind up with the establishment of the Kingdom of God that Jesus had been talking about? Many of his hearers, and probably even his disciples, were unconvinced that the kingdom would succeed.

It is in answer to this skepticism that Jesus told this parable. He drew his listeners’ attention to what happens when a farmer sows seeds. In Palestine, a farmer usually brings his sack of seeds to the field, where he liberally scatters them before plowing. Naturally, many of these do not reach maturity, because some are picked up by birds, others fall on rocky ground, still others find themselves among thorns. These bring no yield. But this does not cause him to be discouraged. Despite these failures, the farmer is confident that the seeds that grow on good soil will eventually yield a good harvest. Similarly, the preaching of the Kingdom may be frustrated. Indeed, many of the Jews did not heed Jesus; in fact, some of them brought him to the cross. For all his effort to bring them to conversion, their response proved to be disappointing. But Jesus was confident that with the few people who really heard his word and acted upon it (Matt 7:21), the Kingdom of God would become a reality.

What happened to the seeds—the coming of the Kingdom would be like that. Sometimes, people ask: Jesus came to establish the Kingdom, but after two thousand years, where can we find it? Where can we experience this reign of love and peace, of communion and justice? Have the First World countries shared their wealth with the Third World countries? The parable seems to say that the Kingdom of God cannot come instantly. Even as it develops, it undergoes various reverses. Take, for example, the search for peace. Probably there has never been a century that has not been marked by conflicts and wars among nations. And almost every effort at establishing peace knows its own setbacks. There have been many backward movements in the Mideast process, for example. And yet, we can point that it is only in the twentieth century that we can speak of a community of nations. It is only in this century that we can talk about the global village, of the consciousness that we are all one family. The road to such consciousness has suffered many upsets, of course, but who can argue that it is not a big stride? Surely, the Kingdom of God is in the process of being realized, for all the failures it has suffered. Dictatorships may recur, human rights may be abused, oppressive regimes may be established, but the Kingdom will surely dislodge them!

It is interesting to note, however, that the parable ends by saying that the seed that flourished brought forth a marvelous harvest—some thirty-fold, some sixty-fold, others hundred-fold (Matt 13:8). It has been noted that this does not reflect the ordinary experience of a farmer in Palestine, for a normal return for a bushel of seed would any anywhere between seven and a half, and a return of ten bushels could be considered a good one. Thus, the hundred-fold harvest could be a fantastic one! But if this is correct, there would be a further assertion about the Kingdom. Since God alone can bring such a hundred-fold harvest, the marvelous yield is meant to indicate that the dawning of the Kingdom is ultimately God’s work! Of course, many scholars would disagree with this interpretation, by noting for example that there is nothing extraordinary about the hundred-fold harvest. Still, this interpretation is still consistent with the Gospel data about the coming of the Kingdom—it does not really depend on man’s effort in order to flourish and succeed, even though it is vital to the Kingdom. It is, in the end, a supernatural action. God alone brings about the triumph of the Kingdom—in a manner, as in the unseating of former President Estrada, no one envisages and in a way that is beyond human control or effort.

Lightening the Burden of the Oppressed

2011-06-30T03:19:00.001+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fourteenth Sunday, Year A, Matthew 11:25-30, July 3, 2011

One of the reasons why our country cannot provide adequate service to the people is the government debt. Since about 1/3 of the yearly total budget is earmarked for servicing the country’s debt, or more exactly, to its interest payment, only a paltry sum goes to health, education and other public services. And because, for many years, the Philippines resorts to borrowing from creditors to pay its debts, the country continues to sink deeper in debt. No doubt about it, the government debt, both internal and external, is enerous. It condemns its people to hopeless poverty and misery. And it making debt service a priority of the budget, the government practically ignores the welfare of the people. No wonder, many people have been clamoring for its cancellation—the government debt is a burden that consigns many to a miserable life.

Life can be like the country’s debt, onerous, but it is always the poor who carry the weight. This is true not only of today but also of Jesus’ time. As we noted two Sundays ago, Jesus, during his public ministry, saw the poor in the eyes of prophet Ezekiel--tired, leaderless, and neglected: “Woe to the shepherds of Israel who have been pasturing themselves. Should not shepherds, rather, pasture sheep? You have fed off their milk, worn their wool, and slaughtered their fatlings, but the sheep you have not pastured. You did not strengthen the weak nor heal the sick nor bind up the injured. You did not bring back the strayed nor seek the lost, but you lorded it over them harshly and brutally. So they were scattered for lack of shepherd and became food for wild animals” (Ezek 34:2b-5a). But if the poor people felt that life has become burdensome, this was not simply due to the political leaders who failed in their responsibilities to the sheep.

It was also because the religious leaders laid heavy burdens on them. In his denunciation of the Pharisees, for example, Jesus said: “They tie up heavy burdens [hard to carry] and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they will not lift a finger to move them” (Matt 23:4). The way the Pharisees and the teachers of the law interpreted the commandments of God has become burdensome to the poor people. The law on the Sabbath is a good example. In their interpretation of the law, the Pharisees had to ask what activities constituted work and therefore were prohibited on the Sabbath—matters which probably were never envisaged by Moses himself. In Matthew, we encounter people known as sinners (Matt 9:10), and in the consensus of present-day scholars, the term refers to people who by their very profession could not, according to the teachers of the law, observe the commandments. The law was intended to give life to those who keep them (Ezek 20:13), but because of wrong interpretation, it became an onus for the poor.

What must the poor do to liberate themselves from the heavy load? At the time of Jesus, the poor people had options. They could follow the Pharisees in their meticulous observance of the law, in the hope that God would ultimately liberate them from all evil. Some did join the social bandits, not only to ease the burden of poverty, but also to get even with the rich. Others later on joined the revolutionary movement—which engulfed the whole nation in the end. Today, several choices present themselves. The poor can go to the street to denounce the various burdens that the government imposed on them and ask that they be scrapped unconditionally. Or, since they cannot lick them, they can join as well the corrupt and the greedy in fleecing the government, with the thought that, after all, justice cannot follow them. Or, one can participate in the materially rewarding occupation of the Abu Sayyaf—banditry and kidnapping. Of course, for many these may seem reasonable, but definitely, these do not have basis in Christianity. The Gospel offers only Jesus to lighten the load: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28).

Jesus is the only one who can refresh us—not the meticulous observance of the law, not the politicians, not money, not rebellion. For one thing, “he is meek and humble of heart” (Matt 11:29). He can understand the feelings of the poor, because he himself became poor, though he was rich (Phil 2:5-7). He was born to a poor family, had nowhere to lay his head, and his grave was not even his own. As the parables show, he looked at realities through the eyes of the poor. Because he had no mission other than to do the will of his Father, he was meek and humble, like the servant of God (Zech 9:9, First Reading). For another, he is the Wisdom of God. Indeed, Matt 11:28-30 very much echoes the invitation of Wisdom: “Come aside to me, you untutored, and take up lodging in the house of instruction. How long will you be deprived of wisdom’s food, how long will you endure such bitter thirst?… Submit your neck to her yoke, that your mind may accept her teaching, for she is close to those who seek her, and the one who is in earnest finds her” (Sirach 51:23-26). He can invite us to take his yoke (Matt 11:29)—obedience to his word and his life, because it is he alone to whom the Father has revealed everything (Matt 11:27).

Amidst problems that the nation faces, people who are supposed to be in the know—what with their trainings abroad and degrees attached to their name--are inclined to think that the Jesus way is neither easy or light—in fact, it is impractical. They like to depend on their own wisdom. But have their solutions given the people a better deal? One is tempted to say that they like their own solutions, because, from a biblical point of view, God’s wisdom has been hidden from them (Matt 11:25). But the Lord says: “Stand beside the earliest roads, ask the pathways of old, which is the way to good and walk it, thus you will find rest for your souls.” (Jer 6:16). However, only the humble will recognize God’s wisdom. Therefore, they alone will take Jesus’ yoke—which is easy and light—and learn from him, and certainly, in the end, “find rest for themselves” (Matt 11:28).*

The Eucharist, Greed and the Poor in Our Midst

2011-06-22T22:38:00.005+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of the Lord, Year A, John 6:51-58, June 26, 2011

Last Sunday (June 19), Federico Pascual raised a rhetorical question in his column Postcript, “Why spend P400 million in rehabilitating Macabalan Port in Cagayan de Oro when a French contractor of modular ro-ro (roll-on, roll-off) ports has a standing offer to build a new wharf and passenger terminal for only P143 million?” Palace watchers described this as “patently disadvantageous to the government,” while former Senator Nene Pimentel called in “plain and simple highway robbery.” And what motives people to do this—greed? This calls to mind the twists and turns in the court battles among lawyers over the coconut levy in the Philippines. “The levy,” as Neal Cruz put it in simple terms, “was imposed and collected by the government for public purposes to benefit coconut farmers. It is clear that it is a public fund. The clarity and simplicity of it is clear to laymen; it is only lawyers who make it confusing.” It being an enormous sum, many want to take hold of it. In an earlier column, Cruz asserts: “Greed is still the top sin of Filipinos. And ironically, the richer they are, the greedier they become.” Hence, “while there are billions of sequestered pesos and dollars still out there waiting… there will always be ‘commissioners’ who will try to negotiate a compromise for a piece of action. Treasure hunting is a popular endeavor in the Philippines. It is easier to dream of instant riches than to work hard for it. And the coco levy… [is] like the fabled Yamashita treasure that continues to boggle the imagination and whet the appetite of scores of treasure hunter.”

Greed is the exact opposite of what today’s feast of Corpus et Sanguis Christi implies—which is sharing so others might live. But that is going ahead of what should be noted first. Today’s Gospel is the second part of Jesus’ discourse on the bread of life (John 6:35-58). Whereas in the first part (vv 35-50), the nourishing heavenly bread is the teaching of Jesus, in this second one (vv 51-58), it is the Eucharist. Though both parts speak of giving life, they differ in that, while in the first part eternal life is given through belief, in the second it comes from feeding on the flesh and drinking the blood of Jesus. Thus, this section has a Eucharistic theme, and exclusive so. Raymond Brown notes two impressive indications that the Eucharist is in mind. First, the narrative stresses the eating of Jesus’ flesh and the drinking of his blood—which cannot be taken as a metaphor or symbolically. Rather, if Jesus’ words about eating his flesh and drinking his blood are to have any favorable meaning, they must refer to the Eucharist, reproducing the words of institution in the Synoptics. Second, what Jesus says in v 51 (“The bread that I shall give is my flesh for the life of the world”) resembles the Lucan form of the words of institution (“This is my body which is given for you”), and most likely preserves the Johannine form of the words of institution. Thus, for John, eternal life is given to those who communicate the body and blood of Jesus.

The objection at the beginning of this section, “how can he give us his flesh to eat” (v 52) probably reflects the Jewish criticism of the Johannine Christian community ritual, since Jews were forbidden to eat meat with blood (Lev 17:10-11). But as the whole section indicates, the eating of his body and drinking of his blood have nothing to do with cannibalism. Rather, they are about sacramental communion. After giving up himself in the sacrifice on the cross, he will give himself in the sacrament. And considering that in the Old Testament, “the body and blood” expresses human life, the Evangelist most likely implies that in the Eucharist the communicant receives the whole living Jesus. In other words, Jesus is totally present in the eucharistic bread and wine that the believer receives. In the sacramental communion, Jesus shares his very life with the communicating believer: “The man who feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood remain in me and I in him” (v 56). No wonder, Paul declares to the Christians in Corinth, “Is not the cup of blessing we bless, a sharing in the blood of Christ? And is not the bread we break, a sharing in the body of Christ?” (1 Cor 10:16). For John, however, there is first of all a mutual indwelling in the Eucharist: Jesus remains in the Christian, and the Christian remains in Jesus. Moreover, just as the life of the Son and the Father is one (cf John 14:10), so the man who receives the Eucharist shares the very life of God himself.

However, to receive the Eucharist is not only to be involved in the very life of God himself. If one shares in the life of the Son and the Father, he is joined to the whole body of believers. It is in this sense that Paul, in the second reading, speaks of the sharing in the body of Christ. “Because the loaf of bread is one, we, many though we are, are one body, for we all partake of one loaf” (1 Cor 10:17). In receiving the Eucharist, Christians are joined to Christ and to one another. They are established as one community in which Christ is a communal possession. Consequently, Christians who receive the Eucharist cannot be greedy or engaged in monopoly, still less take what do not belong to them. To the contrary, by the very act of sharing in it, they commit themselves to share their life and possession with other members in the Christian community. The rich, for example, cannot continue receiving the life of God without sharing their wealth with the poor, for that would be anomalous.

In light of this, a Christian cannot but make a crusade for the writing off of foreign debts by poor countries; indeed, in the light of the meaning of the Eucharist, wealthy nations and institutions must right the wrong in the international economic order in which the poor get poorer, and the rich get richer. On a positive note, this teaching reminds us of a plan, made some time ago when Jojo Binay was still the mayor of Makati, of the rich barangays in Makati to support the poor barangays. We were told that the mayor came up with a new budget sharing, named “Paluwagan sa Barangay.” It was reported that under this scheme that responded to the appeal of the poorer barangays, each barangay in Makati would submit its list of priority projects to the city council. But it would be the engineering and public works department that would select the projects, and the size of the budget allocated for barangay-based projects would determine the number of projects to be approved. The cost of one project of a barangay was to be equally divided among the city’s 32 barangays, including the rich ones. This was Makati’s way of improving on the current practice in which the budget of each barangay is determined by its real property tax share and internal revenue allotment (IRA), the poor barangays receiving small budget allocation.

Racist Mentality and Poking Fun at Colored People

2011-06-16T06:23:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Trinity Sunday, Year A, John 3:16-18, June 19

On June 1, 2011, the Department of Health-Food and Drug Administration (DOH-FDA) issued a warning against using intravenous skin whitener (Glutathione 4) because it could lead to death. But the product is so popular, because it is claimed to whiten the skin. Probably millions of Filipinos want to change their color because, according to them, the whiter you are, the more beautiful you become. That is why entertainers have to whiten themselves, if they do not want to appear ugly and be laughed at. But as Nestor Torre correctly pointed out in one of his columns, “it really is quite funny-peculiar to see Filipinos, many of whom are rather dark-complexioned themselves, poking fun at black people… For their part, our black entertainers should also stop poking fun at themselves and their coloring. They’re aiding and abetting the cruel bias of the racists, which won’t change for the better until they are bluntly made to realize that black can be beautiful and is definitely not funny! Above all, it’s we, the members of the local entertainment audience, who have to change. For decades now, we have poked fun at people just because they have dark skin, or flat noses, or are ‘vertically challenged,’ or look and speak ‘funny’ or come from the Visayas—all superficial factors that don’t define the kind of persons that they really are. And yet, because our colonizers have successfully taught us to use Caucasian standards or beauty as our own, we look down on non-whites, not realizing that we are in fact poking sadistic fun at ourselves!”

Torre finds our racist attitude wrong on the ground that color does not define who we are and that it has a cruel, painful effect on others. On the feast of the Trinity, however, we as Christians are given a deeper basis for rejecting it. But before going into that, let us see first the principles that the Gospel teaches us: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son that whoever believes in him may not die but may have eternal life” (John 3:16). With these words, John makes it clear that the purpose of Jesus’ coming is to give us eternal life, which is John’s term for salvation. Elsewhere, however, John describes the purpose of Jesus’ incarnation and death in terms of gathering people: “Jesus would die for the nation—and not for this nation only, but to gather into one all the dispersed children of God” (John 11:52). If salvation is about gathering people into one community that experiences the life of God, then we can say that it is Jesus who, by his coming, communicates this divine life to the community. No wonder then that elsewhere in the New Testament, we are told that this life that comes from God first of all flows to Christ who in turn shares it with the community: “In Christ the fullness of deity resides in bodily form. Yours is a share of this fullness in him” (Col 2:9). A similar teaching can be found in the letter addressed to the Christians in Ephesus: “May Christ dwell in your hearts through faith and may charity be the root and foundation of your life. Thus you will be able to grasp fully, with all the holy ones, the breadth and length and height and depth of Christ’s love, and experience this love which surpasses all knowledge, so that you may attain to the fullness of God himself” (Eph 3:18-19).

Salvation or eternal life is therefore achieved when Christians share Jesus’s life of love that has its origin in the Father. Because they share in the life of the Father and Jesus, Christians therefore become one with the Father and his Son and with other Christians who receive this divine life. Understandably enough, the same letter describes Christians as “one new man” (Eph 2:15). Consequently, there cannot be division in the Christian community. Precisely because God, by sending Jesus to communicate his life to us, shows himself as the Father of the community, all of us who share his life have become brothers and sisters. Whatever and whoever we are, we form one family where there is no division: “Each one of you is a son of God, because of your faith in Christ Jesus. All of you who have been baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with him. There does not exist among you Jew or Greek, slave or freeman, male or female. All are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28). The early Christians saw the implication of this teaching. Luke tells us, for example, that in the early Church, the Christians were one in heart and in mind. No one claimed anything as his own; rather, everything was held in common (Acts 4:32). In other words, the Christian community is a place where people are accepted and welcomed.

The basis for accepting and welcoming every Christian to the community is simply the fact that he is a Christian—he partakes of God’s divine life. Consequently, in a Christian community, there cannot be any discrimination on any basis—be it sex, power, merits, wealth, culture or race. Earlier, we noted that discrimination of colored people is wrong on the ground of its superficiality and its effect on others. But a meditation on the Gospel provides us with a deeper basis: we have become one with Christ. All of us share in the status of being God’s children. Therefore, no one can claim superiority over others. In the words of the Latin American bishops, “we are all fundamentally equal, and members of the same race, though we live our lives amid the diversity of sexes, languages, cultures, and forms of religiosity. By virtue of our common vocation, we have one single destiny” (Puebla 334). No doubt this statement is based on the Constitution of the Church: “Although by Christ’s will some are established as teachers, dispensers of the mysteries and pastors for others, there remains, nevertheless, a true equality with regard to the dignity and the activity which is common to all the faithful in the building up of the Church” (Lumen gentium, 32). This why is our racist streak---poking fun, for example, at colored entertainers and at our colored neighbors—is wrong, and nothing could make it right.

If we stressed this implication of the Gospel today, it is with the purpose of showing that the doctrine of the Trinity need not be taken as an esoteric teaching that has no connection with the everyday life of the Christian. In the past, we looked at God in himself, and we tried to explain the Trinity in terms of Greek categories that are difficult to comprehend unless one has a background of Greek philosophy and culture. Here, however, we simply tried to present how the Trinity is experienced in our lives, and we found that, among others, our faith in God as Father and in his Son makes us realize that it is wrong to discriminate people on any basis, precisely because of their fundamental equality that is guaranteed by God’s sending his Son to the world so that it may be saved. In this sense, Nestor Torre hits the nail on the head: “Let’s all agree to stop being racist and sadistic—right now.”

From Tower of Babel to Church of Communion

2011-06-08T10:55:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of Pentecost Sunday, Year A, John 20:19-23, June 11, 2011.

Since all political parties in the Philippines are expected to offer platforms through which they can help solve national problems, would it be a sound idea to bring them together to discuss the ills of the country? One could not agree more. It might recalled that, a decade or so ago, an “All Parties Conference” summit was organized to bring together 12 national parties, 8 regional parties and 12 party-list groups, to address problems of our political system. But amid the disclosure of the result of a UP survey indicating that Filipinos were becoming disenchanted with our kind of democracy and system of government, the summit, which has “Modernizing the Political Institutions of a Democratic and Prosperous National Community” for its theme, opened on sour note, as one daily headlined it. The LDP (Laban ng Demokratikong Pilipino), the PDP-Laban and the Reporma-Lapiang Manggagawa boycotted it. The party-list groups Bayan Muna, Bagong Alyansang Makabayan and Sanlakas refused to join it. Each opposition party. of course, had its own agenda for not coming to it, but nationalism, reconciliation and communion could hardly be invoked. If anything, all this shows how fractious and fragmented we could get—a dubious distinction that could be duplicated in many attempts to forge national unity.. If this event had any indication, it is that we are still far removed from being a people of reconciliation and communion.

This brings to mind the famous story of the tower of Babel (Gen 11:1-9) in the First Reading of Pentecost Vigil. According to the narrative, the people of Shinar wanted to build a city with a tower, but God punished them. As can be inferred from v 4 (“to make a name for themselves, lest we be scattered”), it seems that they sinned not only for trying to make a name for themselves on their own initiative and quite independent of God, but also for refusing the command of God to fill the earth (1:28). Of course, others think that their sin consists in trying to build a tower with its top in the sky (11:4) as a sign of pride and rebellion against God, but there seems to be no basis for this conclusion. At any rate, as used in the narrative, the story is meant to teach us about the ongoing sin of man and, when read together with the next chapter, which focuses on Abraham, about true greatness whose origin is God (12:2), and about the birth of Israel through whom all nations will be blest. Originally, however, the story was an aetiological legend about the origin of the diversity of languages and nations. In v 7, the Yahwist writer uses the word balal, which means to mix, to confuse: “Come, let us go down and confuse the language.” The city, with its tower, was left unfinished because Yahweh confounded the speech of the builders; hence, its name became Babel, or confusion. In English, the word babble means confused or incoherent speech. Because of the confusion of language, people could no longer understand each other; on the contrary, unable to reach agreement, they could not be united. Hence, the quarrel among nations, and their lack of communion and reconciliation. Because they could not get through their head, they were fractious and fragmented.

Today, we celebrate the feast of Pentecost. For Christians, it is not simply the 50th day after the Lord’s resurrection; rather, it is also the time when the Church, through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, received its mission to bring all people to God. Thus, in the Gospel, Jesus gives the Holy Spirit to the early Church: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you. Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive men’s sins, they are forgiven them. If you hold them bound, they are held bound” (John 20:21.23). Pentecost signifies that the risen Lord is active in the world, reconciling all men to God and to one another. Thus, one of the theological meanings of the event is that Pentecost is a time of reconciliation and communion. Indeed, from linguistic evidence, there is no doubt that the account in the First Reading (Acts 2:1-11) is meant to reverse the experience of Babel. Luke says that the Jews who came from every nation under heaven and were staying in Jerusalem witnessed the outpouring of the Spirit on the apostles, “they were much confused because each one heard these men speaking his own language. The whole occurrence astonished them” (Acts 2:6). If in the story of the tower of Babel, people were confused because of their different languages, here the Jews who came from every nation on earth were confused because each one heard the apostles speaking in his own particular language. Thus, Pentecost overcomes the division of men at Babel. That is why Luke uses tongues as of fire (v 3) to convey this signification. This means that through the tongue of the Spirit, which is ultimately charity, all men will be reconciled. Pentecost is thus a time of reconciliation and fraternal communion.

It might be difficult to expect our political parties to be reconciled to one another and establish fraternal communion so that the country could move toward achieving the kind of society that our constitution envisages. But a Christian always expects that the Church be a community of reconciliation and communion. And precisely because the Spirit that was poured out at Pentecost is active in the Church, such a community could be promoted if Christians are to be informed with a spirituality of communion. According to John Paul II in his Tertio Millennio Adveniente, this spirituality means that we are able to think of our brothers and sisters in the faith within the profound unity of the mystical body; it means sharing their joys and sufferings; it implies the ability to see what is positive in others; it means knowing how to make room for others, bearing their burdens, and resisting temptations that constantly beset us and provoke competition, careerism, distrust and jealous; and above all, it means our contemplation of the Trinity dwelling in us. If people can see this spirituality shining on our faces, they will certainly recognize the miracle of Pentecost working in the Church and, who knows, our political structure and system could be affected in the long run. And the Babel among our political parties will be transformed into reconciliation and communion.

Are All Religions and Sects the Same and Equal?

2011-06-03T19:24:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Feast of Ascension, Year A, Matt 28:16-20, June 5, 2011

One time, I happened to meet a man in his 50s who has gone to various Christian denominations and sects. In the end, he settled for a born-again community that he felt answered his affective needs. I recalled that he believed all religions were the same, and so it did not matter to him which religion was true. What was important for him was that the particular sect he had chosen assured him that he was saved. This line of thought that all religions are the same—this is rather common even among the educated. Of course, when one scans the spectrum of religions, he may observe that they appear to be all the same—they teach about God (under different names) and good behavior, they observe certain rites, and call everyone to conversion. No wonder, some people would advocate pluralism in religion. They would tell us that all religions are of equal value, and are ways to salvation, and what is decisive is that one follows the religion he professes. Indeed, others go even as far as saying that what one believes does not matter; what is decisive is what he does.

It would seem, however, that today’s Gospel does not accept that line of thinking. From a Christian point of view, the most decisive act of God in history is his revelation in Jesus. As we noted in the previous Sundays, that revelation was unfortunately rejected. Jesus’ preaching of the Kingdom of God and his demand of conversion fell on deaf ears; in fact, his enemies crucified him, and they thought that was he end of him. But God was with him. The Father raised him from the dead. His cause—the Kingdom of God—was entirely correct, and the resurrection vindicated him. Hence, the mission he began must be continued. That is why, in today’s Gospel, Jesus gives his disciples the so-called Great Commission: “Full authority has been given to me both in heaven and on earth; go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Teach them to carry out everything I have commanded you” (Matt 28:18b-20a). Since Jesus could no longer personally continue his mission, because he has already ascended to the Father, the Christian community where his Spirit lives on must carry on the cause. The disciples must proclaim the Gospel, and those who accepted it have to be brought to the community through faith and baptism. That is why the Church continues to send missionaries to bring people to the fold.

Does this mean that we will have to reject other religions? There is no question about it—today we are in the age of inter-religious dialogue. We can no longer go back to the time when Christians had almost nothing good to say of other religions. Nowadays, we seek dialogue, trying as we do to explore areas where we can agree with believers of other faiths, mindful as we are that God can speak, too, through other religions. Of course, in the practical level alone, dialogue is important. For us, Filipinos, dialogue with our Muslim brothers is of paramount significance. In the words of the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (PCP-II), “(1) our history as a Christian people has pitted us against them in a long series of religious conflicts, and lowland Filipinos still suffer today from its psychological and cultural effects. And (2) we are part of the Asian region and Asia contains the bulk of the world’s Islamic countries. We need, therefore, to take a closer look at inter-religious dialogue as an imperative of mission.” Part of this dialogue that has to be encouraged is the dialogue of life. The PCP II was happy to note that “in the areas of Mindanao and Sulu where Muslims and Christians live and work together, a dialogue of life is taking place. In daily life they witness to each other to their own religious values and both contribute to the building of a just society.”

But inter-religious dialogue cannot mean a compromise of the Christian uniqueness and the command of Jesus to carry on his work. As the Declaration of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith Dominus Iesus (On the Unicity and Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church) says, “it would be contrary to the faith to consider the Church as one way of salvation alongside those constituted by the other religions, seen as complementary to the Church or substantially equivalent to her, even if these are said to be converging with the Church toward the eschatological kingdom of God.” x x x “With the coming of the Savior Jesus Christ, God has willed that the Church founded by him to be the instrument for the salvation of all humanity (cf Acts 17:30-31). This truth of faith does not lessen the sincere respect which the Church has for the religions of the world, but at the same time, it rules out, in a radical way, that mentality of indifferentism “characterized by a religious relativism which leads to the belief that ‘one religion is as good as another’” If it is true that the followers of other religions can receive divine grace, it is also certain that objectively speaking, they are in a gravely deficient situation in comparison with those who, in the Church, have the fullness of the means of salvation.”

Therefore, even as the Church advocates inter-religious dialogue, she cannot surrender the mandate that Jesus gave to the Church in today’s Gospel. She must preach the Gospel to all nations, and those who accept it must be baptized and admitted to the historical embodiment of the Kingdom of God. “Following the Lord’s command (cf Matt 28:19-20) and as a requirement of her love for all people, the Church ‘proclaims and is in duty bound to proclaim without faith Christ who is the way, the truth and the lie (John 14:6). In him, in whom God reconciled all things to himself (cf 2 Cor 5:18-19), men find the fullness of their religious life.” Says the Declaration: “Indeed, the Church, guided by charity and respect for freedom, must be primarily committed to proclaiming to all people the truth definitively revealed by the Lord, and to announcing the necessity of conversion to Jesus Christ and of adherence to the Church through Baptism and the other sacraments, in order to participate fully in communion with God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Thus, the certainty of the universal salvific will of God does not diminish but rather increases the duty and urgency of the proclamation of salvation and of conversion to the Lord Jesus Christ.”*

The Risen Lord Lives on in the Church

2011-05-26T06:40:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Sixth Sunday of Easter A, John 14:15-21, May 29, 2011

When the late Abp Antonio Franco, Apostolic Nuncio to the Philippines, visited the Diocese of Borongan, the people were too happy and enthusiastic to meet him. Indeed, all the barangays and towns that dot the around 200-kilometer stretch on Eastern Samar welcomed him with arches, streamers, and standing parade, with men and women, old and young alike, waving their improvised papal flags as the Nuncio’s convoy passed by. When he visited the northern town of Dolores, for instance, the long queue of people wishing him well was tremendous. One, of course, wonders why such a honor is accorded to him. But the people of God in Eastern Samar had one answer—they know the Nuncio is the representative of the Pope. Most of them have not seen the Pope in person, but the Nuncio was his representative. As the priest who welcomed him at the Borongan Cathedral said, “Our people are eager and happy to see you. We know that you come here not only as an Ambassador of the Vatican State to the Philippines, but also as the representative of the Vicar of Christ… But now, we are even more joyful, because we are able to see you who represent him. Through you, we wish to reiterate our expression of affection and loyalty to him.”

The central message of Easter is that Jesus is alive! But if he cannot be found among the dead, where is he? Where do we encounter him? In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the Paraclete. It may be noted that John uses the term another Paraclete—to indicate that Jesus is the first Paraclete. Literally, the word means “called-to-one’s-side” or helper, and has reference to the Holy Spirit that the Father sent as a response to the prayer of his Son. As Paraclete, Jesus revealed the Truth about God the Father to his disciples until his death; but after his Ascension, the Spirit now reveals the Truth about Jesus. Thus, as Paraclete, the Holy Spirit continues the work of Jesus. This is what is meant when Jesus says that “I will ask the Father and he will give you another Paraclete—to be with you always: the Spirit of Truth” (John 14:17a). As Helper, the Spirit will be the source of Truth; and will act as Paraclete, as the disciples suffer hostility from the world. For John, the coming of the Paraclete is the return of Jesus to the community of disciples. That is why Jesus says that, even with his departure, he will not leave them orphaned, because through the Holy Spirit, he will continue to abide with his community. In fact, they will share his life, even as Jesus shares the life of his Father. Thus, the Holy Spirit appears to be the spiritual presence of Jesus in the community. In other words, if we ask the question, where do we meet Jesus? John’s answer is: we encounter him in the Holy Spirit, who is present in the community.

Because Jesus abides in the Church through the Holy Spirit, we are therefore given a very rich understanding of what being Church means. First of all, since, as the First Reading (Acts 8:5-8, 14-17) tells us, the Church in Jerusalem sent Peter and John to confer the Spirit on the developing Christian community to incorporate them fully into the fellowship, this implies that local churches cannot be isolated from Rome, even as the expanding church in Judea and Samaria cannot severe itself from the Church in Jerusalem. The Holy Spirit that is at work in the mother Church in Jerusalem is shared in the community at Samaria and Judaea. The spiritual presence of Jesus is thus shared and expanded. Until his death, Jesus was physically present only in the community of disciples, but with the coming of the Holy Spirit, he becomes present in all the communities that profess his name, and are at the same time linked to the mother Church in Jerusalem. How do we say this in our time? Perhaps this means that all communities must form a unity with the mother Church in Rome.

Secondly, because the Holy Spirit dwells in the Church, the community is in communion with the Risen Lord. The Risen Lord lives in the Church because the Holy Spirit is there. But quite apart from being present, the community shares the life of the Risen Lord, who shares the life of the Father. For this reason, the Church experiences the continuing action of God among men. The Father is revealed by Jesus and his saving-presence is shared through the Holy Spirit. That is why the Church is an icon of the Trinity: the saving work of God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit is shared in the Christian community. In other words, being Church is an experience of Trinitarian life.

And finally, this Trinitarian life is lived in love. “He who obeys the commandments he has from me is the man who loves me; and he who loves me will be loved by my Father. I too will love him and reveal himself to him” (John 14:21). The fact that the Spirit lives in the Church—this signifies that the Church is a charismatic Church. There never was a time that the Church was not charismatic, or it is not a Church at all. But this should not be taken to mean that ecstatic experience is always a necessary element of being Church. There was and there will be ecstatic experience; miracles of healing and driving of spirits might be present, but what being charismatic necessarily implies is the observance of the commandment of love, which is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. In fact, in today’s Gospel, the presence of the Father is linked with the commandment of love: “If you love me and obey the commands I give you, I will ask the Father and he will give you another Paraclete to be with you always: the Spirit of Truth” (John 14:15-16).

In contemporary theological reflection, the Church is viewed as a Church of Communion, and there is no doubt that today’s Gospel provides a solid basis for such a theology. In the Church, the members are in communion with the Trinitarian God and with one another. In practice, this implies that the love of God dwells in the community and is shared among the members. On the other hand, the members are assured of the presence of the Trinity by their observance of the love-commandment. Their love for one another is a sign that the Trinity dwells in the Church. Which means that it is not enough to view the Church simply as an institution. Of course, to see the Church as a structured visible society has it own merits, but to look at the Church as a Communion is to emphasize the work of grace that unites all members in Christ and draws them into the communion with the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit.

Jesus the Risen Lord--The Way to the Father

2011-05-21T17:36:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fifth Sunday of Easter A, John 14:1-12, May 22, 2011

One of the recurring themes of the late (now Blessed) John Paul II’s visit to Ukraine on June 23-27, 2001 was unity. In his Mass at the hippodrome of Lviv for the beatification of Bp Josef Bilczewski and Fr Zygmunt Gorazdowski, he said, for instance: “Let us feel ourselves gently nudged to recognize the infidelities to the Gospel of not a few Christians of both Polish and Ukrainian origin living in these parts. It is time to leave behind the sorrowful past. The Christians of two nations must walk together in the name of one Christ… May the purification of historical memories lead everyone to work for the triumph of what unities over what divides, in order to build together a future of mutual respect, fraternal cooperation and true solidarity.” At the Lviv airport before leaving for Rome, he said that unity “is the secret of peace and the condition for a true and stable social progress.”

This means not only that nations should not quarrel, but also that a nation may isolate herself. Like America. As Michael Hirsh puts it in his article “The Death of the Founding Myth” Newsweek (Special Davos Edition), “like it or not—and clearly large numbers of Americans don’t—we Americans are now part of an organic whole with the world that George Washington wanted to keep distant. The international community consists of nations that have different characters but are sinewed together through deeper markets than have ever existed and a historic level consensus on the general shape of societies, politics, human rights and international law.” For a Christian, however, there is a deeper rationale behind human solidarity. There is something that engulfs all of us, draws us together, and to which our earthly pilgrimage leads us. That something is our origin in God, and we will be at peace with ourselves and with others only when we have become united not only with mankind but with God himself. Thus, St Augustine can say that our heart has been made for God, and it will remain restless until it rests on him.

Which is why Jesus, in today’s Gospel, speaks of preparing a place for us so that where he is we may also be: “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places… I am indeed going to prepare a place for you and then I shall come back to take you with me, that where I am you also may be” (John 14:2-3). But how can one dwell in the mansion of God? How can he be united with the Father? Jewish conventional wisdom teaches that it is achieved through the observance of the law: “Who shall sojourn in your tent? Who shall dwell in your holy mountain? He who walks blamelessly and does justice” (Ps 15:1-2). Literally of course, the text is about one’s being worthy to enter God’s sanctuary, but the substance is there. Thus Prophet Baruch: “Had you walked in the way of the Lord, you would have dwelt in enduring peace” (Bar 3:13). For a Christian, however, it would not be enough to follow the law. Keeping the law may bring some form of peace to a person or to a community, but it would never bring one to an experience of God’s life. It is not insignificant that Matthew makes Jesus declare: “Unless your holiness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of God” (Matt 5:20).

The unity with God is given to a Christian not so much by following the law, as by being in communion with Jesus, for “no one comes to the Father but through me” (John 14:6b). To bring home the point, John has Jesus say: “I am the way, the truth and the life” (John 14:6a). These three terms used to describe Jesus has to be explained. The term “way” depicts the mediatorial role of Jesus between the community of men and God the Father. It is unfortunately that, for some people, religion is about theories or laws that should regulate relationships. Of course, these are important, but these do not belong to the heart of Christianity. It is not even about duplicating the crucifixion, as some people are inclined to think. Christianity is first of all about the person of Jesus. It is Jesus who is the way to God, not a formula to be observed or magic words to be uttered. If we wish to be united with the Father, then we have to be united with Jesus, we have to be committed to him, and follow his way of life. That is why Paul can say: “Continue to live in Christ the Lord in the spirit which you receive him” (Col 2:6). The way of life that he lived, which is that of a loving obedience to the Father’s will, is what is of importance. Hence, Paul says: “Follow the way of love, even as Christ loved you. He gave himself for us as an offering to God, a gift of pleasing fragrance” (Eph 5:2).

The claim that he is the truth underlines his mediation of the Father’s revelation. He is the way precisely because he is the truth. This recalls what the Matthean Jesus affirms: “No one knows the Son but the Father, and no one knows the Father but the Son—and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him” (Matt 11:27). It is strange that some people are anxious to hear about new revelation from God, when God has already fully revealed himself in Jesus. The life of Jesus, that is the life of God; what Jesus taught, that is the teaching of God. In the words of a New Testament writer, “in this the final age, [God] has spoken to us through his Son” (Heb 1:1). John himself makes a similar affirmation: “No one has ever seen God. It is God, the only Son, ever at the Father’s side, who has revealed him” (John 1:18). Hence, if we wish to know the goal of our existence, and the way how to reach it, we only have to hear it from Jesus himself.

The reason for this is that he is the life. If the term “way” depicts his mediatorial role between God and men, and if “truth” expresses his mediation of revelation, the term “life” used to describe Jesus emphasizes his mediation of salvation, which is none other then life with God, unity with him. As we noted earlier, it is only in being in communion with Jesus that one can be in communion with the Father. It is for this unity and life that he came: “I came that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). So long as we do not have life, our heart will remain restless, because it was for the experience of this life that we were created. In fact, the present realization that all mankind is just one family, the experience that after all the world is one global village—this is to be taken as sign that finally the world is becoming aware that we are moving to a certain goal, which for a Christian is none other than union with God, but made possible through union with the risen Lord.

What Leadership Is Really All About

2011-05-14T00:48:00.003+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A, John 10:1-10

In a collection of essays assessing the Estrada years entitled, Between Fires, edited by Amando Doronilla, Katrina Constantino-David, in “Surviving Erap,” said of Erap’s leadership: “There was no shred of professionalism and decency in his government. Here was a president who did not have any capacity to govern and did not care. Here was an administration where Cabinet members were routinely denied the courtesy of trust and where cronies and relatives treated the state as their own private playground. Here was a government that had squandered all the goodwill and hope that the masses had placed in it. At that moment, I became convinced beyond any doubt that this was an administration I could no longer be part of, and that this was a president who would only bring the entire nation down.” Probably, no one challenged David’s right to criticize Erap’s government. After all, she was an insider, and knew where she spoke. But listen to this: “We stand by the moral conviction,” said the Presbyteral Council of the Archdiocese of Manila, “that [Estrada] has lost the moral ascendancy to govern.” This was said in the last days of the Estrada regime. Some quarters viewed this statement as a form of interference of the Church in what they perceived as an exclusive domain of the State. They thought that Christ never bequeathed to the Church a mission to proclaim a message of such nature.

Nothing, of course, could be farther from the truth. The Church has a prophetic function, and in the Old Testament, the prophets could not, on God’s instruction, remain silent in the face of injustice committed against his people. Prophet Ezekiel accused the political and religious leaders of his time of various offenses which have a very contemporary ring: instead of taking care of the people, they took care of themselves; they enriched themselves in office while the people wallowed in poverty; they failed to look after the sick, the poor and the oppressed; they ruled them harshly and cruelly; and instead of uniting them, they scattered them. If the people suffered in their exile in Babylon, it was the fault of the political and religious leaders who never concerned themselves with the welfare of the people. They were only after their own interest which they identified with the interest of the nation (Ezek 34:1-6).

Himself a prophet, Jesus followed the prophetic tradition. According to John, the leaders misgoverned the nation, as evidenced by the way they treated the man born blind (John 9:1-42). They themselves were blind to the needs of the poor and the disadvantaged, because they chose to see only their advantages and privileges. The fact that John tells us the parable of the good shepherd (John 10:1-6) immediately after the story of the man born blind indicates that, for him, these leaders were blind guides because they failed to recognize God’s work in Jesus who cares for people, even as he cared for the man born blind. Not surprisingly, in today’s Gospel, Jesus carries on the prophetic critique against the political and religious leaders of his time. For him, these leaders of Israel had no claim to real leadership. He calls them thieves and bandits: “Whoever does not enter the sheepfold through the gate but climbs in some other way is a thief and a marauder” (John 10:2). Here it is most likely that Jesus has in mind the Sadducees and the Pharisees, and is probably comparing them with the high priests, the religio-political leaders, at the time of the Maccabees. Of course, the Sadducees controlled the Temple complex, and it is curious as well as instructive that in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus refers to the Temple as a den of thieves (Mark 11:17-18). One wonders whether in Mark, the thieves have reference to the priestly aristocracy that dominated it.

There is something positive, of course, in today’s Gospel. In sharp contrast with them, Jesus presents himself as the shepherd of the sheep (John 10:2b). In depicting Jesus under the image of a shepherd, it is most likely that John is teaching that Jesus fulfills God’s promise that he will send a shepherd after the figure of David. As the true shepherd of Israel, Jesus lays down his life for his people, unlike a thief who seeks their death. Rather than taking advantage of them, he willingly sacrifices his life for them. He takes so much care of them that he knows each by name: “The sheep hear his voice and he calls his own by name, and he leads them out” (John 10:3). But if he is intimately close to his flock, if he wholeheartedly gives up his life for his people, it is because all he wants is to give them life, life in abundance: “I came that they might have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). By life John, of course, means the life that a disciple shares with God, which implies love and unity that prevail in the community of disciples. It is divine life shared among community members.

That is what leadership is all about. It is not about having more (in terms of wealth, power and prestige), but about giving up. This is what biblical language describes as good shepherding. Shepherding applies not only in the Church but also in the secular world—in business and economy, culture and politics. What this means in politics, in the present circumstances, the Bishops of the Philippines put it this way: “We need a President whom the people can look up to, who can inspire confidence and motivate them to unite and conspire towards the common good. Leadership is not the same as popularity or prowess in oratory. Neither is it the capacity to manipulate people towards self-serving ends. Leadership is rather a way of serving that draws people together and draws the best from them so that they dare to forge a better future despite all obstacles” (CBCP, Pastoral Exhortation on the 1998 Elections). In business, to shepherd could, for instance, mean “to attract, retain, and motivate individuals—recognizing their intrinsic differences and lifestyles—and to assist and make possible in every way the achievement of their personal objectives in the accomplishment of our corporate goals.”

Where Do Christians of Today Encounter the Risen Lord?

2011-05-07T03:08:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Third Sunday of Easter, Year A, Luke 24:13-35, May 9, 2011

I could not find its roots mentioned in Francisco Alzina’s Historia de las islas y indios de Bisayas, nor in William Henry Scott’s Barangay, nor in F. Landa Jocano’s Filipino Prehistory, but I think the practice must be ancient. I refer to the tradition of inhabitants in the southern towns of Samar island, in which they tender a great banquet to mark the 9th death anniversary of their love ones. I was once invited to such a celebration. After a mass offered for their deceased, those who attended the eucharistic celebration were given raw carabao meat. At noon, all of us were invited to the banquet, and after a few rounds of drink, the orchestra started to play, and dancing began. Whatever its origin, it seems to me that the practice answers the need of the living to connect their lives with those of their loved ones who died almost a decade ago. Celebrations like this refresh their memory, stirring up events that were dear to them and their deceased. I got the impression that commemorating the death of their loved ones in such a grand manner makes them feel as if the deceased were present with them in their celebrations, even as they recall events in their lives that memory suppressed. The living encounter the spirit of the dead as if these were present, as they celebrate these banquets. That probably explains why, though costly, the tradition goes on.

I mention this because it reminds me of a question sometimes raised in Christian faith: if people feel they encounter the spirit of their loved ones in these celebrations, where do Christians encounter the risen Lord? As should be obvious from the Readings of the Easter Season, the central message of the resurrection is that Jesus lives on (Luke 24:23), and that the resurrected Lord is no other than the same Jesus who walked with his disciples (John 20:18). But if he is alive, where do we find him? In Luke’s Gospel, the evangelist carefully points out that the resurrected Christ is identical with the earthly Jesus by demonstrating that the risen Lord performed the same ministries that he did when he was still with his disciples before his death. For instance, he taught his disciples about Moses and the Prophets; he interpreted the Scriptures to them; and he opened their eyes (Luke 24:27-31). But while stressing the identity, Luke likewise points out that there is a discontinuity between the risen Lord and the earthly Jesus. It is for this purpose that he narrates the incident in the Gospel today (Luke 24:13-24). Notice that when Jesus walked with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus and joined in their lively exchange, these two who had seen the earthly Jesus failed to recognize him. They simply thought that he was just another Jerusalemite who was rather ignorant of what happened in the city the past few days (Luke 24:18).

At the same time, Luke, in portraying the ignorance of the disciples, could have in mind the situation in his own community in which Christians, who did not see the risen Lord, may have felt themselves less privileged than the disciples who did see the earthly Jesus. It seems that for Luke, what is decisive for the Christian community is not whether or not one saw the earthly Jesus or the risen Lord immediately after the resurrection, but whether one can at the present moment recognize his presence. To bring the point home, Luke tells us that when Jesus “had seated himself with them to eat, he took bread, pronounced the blessing, then broke the bread and began to distribute it to them” (Luke 24:30b). At this, the eyes of the disciples, who failed to recognize him, were opened, and whereupon they recognized that it was Jesus who was breaking the bread (Luke 24:31). For Luke, then, the presence of Jesus is recognized in the breaking of the bread. Of course, by breaking of the bread Luke does not mean an ordinary meal. The wording of the narrative easily recalls the institution narrative in which the same verbs practically occur: take, give thanks, break and distribute (Luke 22:19). That is to say, Luke wants to say that the risen Lord is recognized in the celebration of the Eucharist.

This, to be sure, should not be taken to mean that Christ is encountered in the Eucharist without any connection to practical life. The reason for this is that the act of breaking the bread has significance beyond the rite. If the bread is broken, it is because it is meant to be shared. This implies that such values as monopoly, exclusiveness, and selfishness cannot become media of the Lord’s presence. To monopolize business and industry, to place the wealth of the nation in the hands of a few oligarchic families, to arrogate to oneself the rights of others is to deprive oneself of the encounter with the risen Lord, however one tries to create an elaborate worship of him. No wonder that a distinctive feature of the early Church was the holding of possessions in common (Acts 4:32b-34). And the early Christians showed themselves always ready to help those in need (Rom 15:26; 1 Cor 16:1-3; Gal 2:10).

In its pastoral letter issued during the 1987 Eucharistic Year, “One Bread, One Body, One People,” the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) says in this connection: “It may be truly said that the task of the Church is to radiate the Eucharist in the life of the world. In this sense the ministry of the Church is first and foremost a ‘eucharistic ministry’. Such ministry works toward creating a new world of Christian communities where freedom and justice reign, a new world of loving and caring, sharing and working together—a kingdom of reconciliation and peace.”

The concluding appeal of the letter remains relevant: “Our present situation summons us to seek ways of breaking down the many dividing walls in our midst, binding up and healing our nation’s wounds; of sacrificing ourselves so that those who suffer hunger and other ills which accompany the widespread poverty in our land may find meaningful work and the means to fashion better lives for themselves and their children, worthy of sons and daughters of our Father who is in heaven. The Eucharist is “bread broken to feed a hungry world.’ It is also the bread of brotherhood and it is in the eucharist and from that we must find the motivation and power to realize, even in part, renewed social relationships and a new social order for our people—based on truth and freedom, justice and love. It is in the eucharist and from the eucharist that we must find the wellspring of that peace which we all seek, with such desperate longing, for our country today.”

The Risen Lord Is Alive in the New Community

2011-04-29T21:20:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Second Sunday of Easter, Year A, John 20:19-31, May 1, 2011

As I was reading Amando Doronila’s The Fall of Joseph Estrada: The Inside Story, it occurred to me that the whole story of the former President’s fall is something like what we see in cartoons—as the carcass of an animal begins to disintegrate, a new, stronger creature arises. Early in his term, Joseph Estrada’s Presidency was wounded by a series of scandals involving corruption, his battle with the press, and his tinkering with the Constitution, among others. When Gov. Luis Singson’s bombshell exploded, his Presidency was directly hit. And Clarissa Ocampo’s testimony was like a final sword thrust to its heart. When his 11 Senators prevented the opening of the second envelope, the Presidency began to leave him, and, as the people started gathering at Edsa, gradually entered the body of another, this time, a woman. When the Cabinet left him, the Army withdrew its support, and the Chief Justice sworn in Gloria Arroyo, the Presidency completely left him, and took a new flesh to dwell in.

The resurrection of Jesus admits of various meanings, but one of them is akin to this. As we noted last Sunday, God the Father, by raising Jesus from the dead, vindicated him. The resurrection proved that Jesus’ enemies were wrong, after all. But this vindication was efficacious. Just as the dying days of Joseph Estrada’s Presidency gave rise to a new people power gathered around a new President, so from the death of Jesus rose a new people. In today’s Gospel (John 20:19-31), this is indicated by a significant gesture of Jesus—he breathed on his disciples (John 20:22). This action of Jesus readily recalls God’s creative acts recounted in Genesis and Ezekiel. In Genesis, it is said that when God breathed into the nostrils of Adam the breath of life, Adam became a living being (Gen 2:7). Thus, the gesture of breathing completed the action of the creation of man. Similarly, in Ezekiel, it is told that when the wind breathed into those who were slain, they were given a new life (Ezek 37:10). There is no doubt that John had in mind these texts when he wrote today’s Gospel. By saying that Jesus breathed into his disciples, John wanted to teach us that with the death and resurrection of Jesus, a new life was imparted, and a new community was born. There was, in other words, a new creation—a new people was born through the Holy Spirit, which is what the air breathed signifies, by Jesus’ death and resurrection.

The second reading describes to us the form of this new creation: “The [members of the new community] devoted themselves to the apostles’ instruction and the communal life, to the breaking of the bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42). A few words may be said of this text. Though the instruction included the Old Testament, it gradually focused on Jesus’ teachings and the interpretation handed on by the apostles. Later on, these were collected, committed to writing, and applied by preachers, teachers and catechists to their own particular situation. An important feature of this community life was the sharing of goods. Those who believed shared all things in common. They would sell their property and goods, dividing everything on the basis of each one’s needs (Acts 2:44-45). The practice obviously brought each member closer to one another, and encouraged the development of an ethics of renunciation of property and rejection of concentration of wealth. The breaking of the bread was an early feature of community life: “Every time then you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26). The breaking of the bread refers, of course, to the Eucharist, which replaced the temple sacrifice with the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. Finally, no doubt the prayers consisted of Jewish prayers, although in the long run, Christians gradually formulated their own, after the example of Jesus himself who taught the “Our Father” to his disciples.

It should be emphasized that these features of the early Christian community were an actualization of the new life in the Spirit of Jesus in the daily life of Christian believers. In other words, they reflect the work of the Holy Spirit in the community. From these features developed some of the fundamental structures of the Christian community. For example, the apostles’ instruction could be easily identified with the Church’s task of evangelization, while the breaking of the bread and the prayers pertain to the entire worship of the Church, but especially the Eucharistic Celebration and the sacraments. The fellowship of love, on the other hand, is related to the ministry of social service in the Church. If these have anything to teach us, it is that the present practices in the Church did not come from nowhere, nor were they invented by the present Church. On the contrary, they developed out of the effort of the Church to actualize the distinctive features of the early Christian community in the current situation as the members tried to demonstrate how the Spirit works in the new age.

Therefore, as we pause to consider the present structures of our parishes and dioceses, it is important to ask whether these stand in continuity with the earliest traditions in the Church. It is unfortunate that today, when people try to look at their Church—the parish or the diocese, it seems that their point of comparison is the world of business. They seem to think that what makes a business corporation successful must be applied to the Christian community. However, from the viewpoint of Christian faith, that is far from being correct. The parish, for example, is not about profits and successes, or about display of achievement. Looked at in the perspective of faithfulness to the early Church, it can be seen—in the words of the 1987 Synod of Bishops—as “the customary place where the faithful gather to grow in holiness, to participate in the mission of the Church, and to live out their ecclesial communities.” No wonder that the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (PCP II) recommends that the parish “should be a dynamic Eucharistic and evangelizing community of communities, a center which energizes movements, Basic Ecclesial Communities and other apostolic groups and is in turn nourished by them.” By being such, the parish exhibits the life of the Spirit that God continues to pour out in the Church..

Justified by God before Men, Jesus Sends his Church in Mission

2011-04-23T09:58:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of Easter Sunday, Year A, Matthew 28:1-10, April 24, 2011

It is worth recalling that during the presidency of Arroyo, “May Gloria ang bukas mo,” a one-and-a-half hour-long program of the former President, and a brainchild of her publicist, Dante Ang, aired on radio and television, was sacked on March 2, 2002 on its 19th episode, obviously because there was no ground for its continued airing. It did not rate well. As the President herself admitted, it lost even to children’s shows like Batibot. On the other hand, almost at the same time, former President Bush’s war against the Taliban and the al-Queda network continued because even Muslim countries felt that it was justified. Without the support of other countries, it would not have gone on. Understandably enough, Bush refurbished the US image. For example, in face of the rising tide of anti-Americanism, he put up a new office to ensure that foreign correspondents in Washington as well as foreign leaders and opinion-makers overseas understand his ideas and policies. America cannot fight terrorism unilaterally. Which is why, when Bush declared that he was expanding antiterrorist campaign to include the axis of evil—Iraq, Iran, and North Korea, the European nations warned the United States that it would be making a mistake to go it alone in its antiterrorism campaign. A project, in other words, cannot go on unless it is confirmed, accepted, and justified.

Must the cause of Jesus go on? Last Sunday, we noted that the cause of Jesus was the Kingdom of God. If there was anything that unified and gave meaning to all that he said and did, it was the Kingdom. Because it was the center of his teachings and activities, everything radiated from it. Take it away, and nothing about them will ever be really understood. If Jesus was born to a poor family, if he taught love of enemies, if he dined with tax collectors and sinners to the scandal of the civil society of his time, it was because these well sprang from the demands of his proclamation of the Kingdom. His cause was so human, and it answered the longings of the poor, whose welfare the social institutions like the government and the state religion must look after. Ironically, however, the holders of the same social institutions rejected his cause. They judged him to be a rebel and a blasphemer. And so, to ensure the discontinuance of his cause, they tried him and found him guilty. They thought that by eliminating him, they could put an end to his cause. They would be able to stop the spread of what they thought was a brazen lie, a deception of the people, and the cause of the downfall of the nation. Thus, instead of confirming him, accepting him and justifying him, they rejected him. In the judgment seat of men, Jesus was clearly in the wrong.

But was he?

Today, we commemorate the resurrection of the Lord, which is the greatest feast in the Christian liturgy. But that Jesus came to life again—what does that mean? It is interesting to note that in the New Testament, the resurrection of Jesus admits of various meanings. In fact, each New Testament writer has his own distinctive way of interpreting the event. In John, for example, if Jesus’ death was his glorification (john 13:31-32), his resurrection was his exaltation (John 12:32). In Hebrew’s, it is Jesus’ installation to the function of a heavenly high priest (cf Ps 110:4), in Paul’s Letter to the Thessalonians, it signals the imminent arrival of the parousia (1 Thess 1:10). Mathew, however, gives various meanings to it, which are far different from what we have just said. And one meaning that he stresses in the early tradition is this—Jesus may have suffered a lot in the hands of men, but that does not mean that he was in the wrong. Rather, he was in the right all along, even though he was like other righteous men who were persecuted and killed by wicked people. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem! You kill the prophets and stone the messengers God has sent to you” (Matt 23:34). (It may be noted that Luke even places Jesus in the line of Abel and the prophets who were persecuted: “The people of this time will be punished for the murder of all the prophets killed since the creation of the world, from the murder of Abel to the murder of Zechariah, who was killed between the altar and the holy place [Luke 11:50-51].) To show, therefore, that the prophet was not in the wrong, the Father resurrected him.

For Matthew, in other words, the resurrection was a vindication of the messenger of the Kingdom. Though people perceived him to be a liar, God had a different way of looking at him—he was obviously in the right. Which is why, in Matthew, Jesus was not only exalted by God; on the contrary, he was even given a commissioning role that is usually ascribed to God in the Jewish tradition. Thus, the Gospel today describes Jesus as giving the great commission: “When they saw him, they worshipped him, even though some of them doubted. Jesus drew near and said to them, “I have been given all authority in heaven and on earth. Go, then, to all peoples everywhere and make them my disciples; baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and teach them to obey everything I have commanded you. And I will be with you always to the end of the age” (Matt 28:17-30). In other words, the rising of Jesus from the dead signifies the continuation of his cause: The Kingdom of God, which summarizes everything that Jesus taught, must be preached to all the nations.

But not only that. Just as Jesus embodied the Kingdom, so those who received the message must live it. A people that embodies it must be born. This is the reason why the command to baptize is appended to it is that baptism initiates one to a community that lives the Kingdom and its values. This is why the birth of the Church is often associated with the resurrection of Jesus, for it is the Church, as a community, that lives the Kingdom. Jesus did not say that it lives anywhere else. This means that the resurrection implies a giving of the mission to the Church. Its mission is to embody the Kingdom in her community life. Now we understand the mission given by Jesus to his disciples at the Sermon on the Mount: “You are the light for the whole world… Your light must shine before people, so that they will see the good things you do and praise your Father in heaven” (Matt 5:14a.16). The Church evangelizes not only by preaching the Kingdom to those who have not heard about it, but also—and this is important—by simply living its values in her very life.

That is why the Church must fulfill its mission, even if the world does not accept it. She cannot sack it. The Kingdom of God must be preached and lived even in situations that reject her mission. That it is not accepted does not prove that it is wrong. The Church has God’s assurance that her mission is not a lie, for he resurrected Jesus from the dead. On the contrary, she has to preach even if people do not listen to her’ she may even have to undergo various forms of dying and martyrdom. This meaning of the resurrection is well captured by a disciple of Paul: “I solemnly urge you to preach the message, to insist upon proclaiming it (whether the time is right or not), to convince, reproach and encourage, as you teach with all patience. The time will come when people will not listen to sound doctrine, but will follow their own desires and will collect for themselves more and more teachers who will teach them what they are itching to hear. They will turn away from listening to the truth and gave their attention to legends. But you must keep control of yourself in all circumstances, endure suffering, do the work of a preacher of the Good News, and perform your whole duty as a servant of God” (2 Tim 4:3-5).*

A CRITICAL LOOK AT FILIPINO HOLY WEEK RITUALS

2011-04-22T08:28:00.002+08:00

by Lope Coles Robredillo, SThD

ALONGSIDE THE LITURGICAL celebrations that the Church observes during the Holy Week are practices which, in the Philippines, have long been linked with it. Among them are the siete palabras, the way of the cross, procession of images, salubong, pabasa, cenaculo, and penitencia. For most Catholics, they not only add color to the week-long celebrations, but are, in fact, so associated with the Holy Week that it could not be conceived without them. It is not seldom that devotees--if only for these folk rituals—would spend the Holy Week in Sta. Cruz (Marinduque), Palo (Leyte), Grotto (Novaliches), or in some remote town in Bicol or Pangasinan, rather than in their own parishes. Some, for example, may decline to attend the Good Friday liturgy, but they will certainly make an effort to witness penitentes reenact the crucifixion on that day. Indeed, it happens that these activities attract more people than the liturgical celebrations themselves. But since these practices belong to the extra-liturgical spiritual life of the Church, the question is often raised: how do you look at them a critical point of view?

For the nonce, it may be well to focus on the pabasa, cenaculo, and penitencia, and, to start with, give a short description of these practices. Usually held at home, the pabasa is the singing of the life of Jesus in poetic form, called pasyon. Accompanied by a musical instrument, with the book placed between the two lighted candles, singers chant verses, oftentimes in alternation, before a crucifix. It is not uncommon for the host to serve drinks and finger foods during a pabasa. The cenaculo is the dramatization of the passion story, which normally begins with the scene of the agony in the garden, and ends with the crucifixion. It may take the form of simple passion play or a grand one similar to that of Oberammergau in Bavaria, where practically the whole village is involved in holding it once every ten years. Unlike the way of the cross which is aimed at meditating on the journey to Calvary, the penitencia seeks to dramatize the physical sufferings of Jesus bodily, either by physical flagellation, the carrying of a heavy cross, being crucified on it, or their combination. All of them are, objectively viewed, forms of participation in the suffering of Jesus: oral (pabasa), dramatic (cenaculo) and bodily (penitencia).

Expressions of Affective Faith

It is instructive that whereas in the siete palabras, procession, salubong and the way of the cross, the priest ordinarily accompanies the participants, especially in the provinces, he is conspicuously absent in pabasa, cenaculo and penitencia. Of importance, however, is that these three rituals are basically meant for the edification of lay people. And they are held without having to be joined with the liturgical celebrations going on in the church. The priest has no role in them. They belong to the popular tradition. But they are originally aimed at participation in the celebrations of the mysteries of redemption. If these observations have anything to tell us, it is that these rituals are expressions of the people’s affective faith, which scarcely finds place in the official worship in the Church. In effect, it may be said that these popular practices are expressions of the lay people’s affective dimension of faith and at the same time are catered to it. They enhance religious affections and feelings. In the chanting of the pasyon, it sometimes happens that singers, swept by their emotion as they sing the poetic lines, shed tears; in the cenaculo, the participants become emotionally involved as they dramatize the events surrounding Jesus’ death; and in the penitencia, they are able to empathize with him in his pain. On the other hand, Roman liturgy is sober and reticent, and such emotion experience has scarcely any place for expression in it.

At the same time, however, they also externalize the people’s understanding of the faith. Of course, the lay people did not compose the pasyon; priests did. Most likely too, they did not, at the beginning, write the script of the cenaculo; but they make the oral and dramatic expressions, and obviously, having been written for them, these influence their ways of thinking and acting. For this reason, it is not surprising, indeed, that in most cases, their knowledge of who Jesus is and his salvific work shows a familiarity more with the pasyon and the drama than with the gospels or the official Christology and soteriology of the Church. Moreover, today, the script of the cenaculo is being written by laymen and, although priests are consulted, the over-all outcome mirrors the understanding of lay people. But this is especially true of penitencia. Though its roots may be traced to the practice of doing penance during Lent, it expresses the lay people’s faith in what participation in the suffering of Jesus must consist of. The rituals, in the other words, are a vehicle which expresses the faith experiences of the participants, but at the same time serving to call that faith to mind, and to catechize their audience in that faith.

Reason for Attractiveness

That these rituals (particularly the cenaculo and the penitencia) attract more people than the liturgical celebrations has at least four significations. First, this indicates their success, at least in catering to the affective dimension of their faith, and the understanding of that faith. In other words, they are able to speak to the needs of the lay people. Unhampered by liturgical discipline, they undergo changes and additions as they develop and flourish in response to those needs. For this reason, they are meaningful to them. The second implication is simply the reverse of the first. These rituals may also be interpreted as an expression of their disaffection from the official Church liturgy. For lay people, it is difficult to appropriate the meaning of the prayers and the action of the official liturgy. Hence, they feel the need for a ritual in order to plug in to the reticent liturgical celebration. A case in point is the holding of hands during singing of the Lord’s Prayer. Although it is against liturgical norms to do so, people in Manila make that gesture because, as someone said, it feels good. More should be said of this, but the point is, there is wisdom in the proposition that liturgy should not be foreign to the affective dimension of the people’s faith.

Moreover, the lay people have been estranged from the official liturgy because, before the Second Vatican Council, they had a little chance--save for cantoras--to take an active part in the liturgy. They were simply spectators, who could not understand the meaning of the words and gesture in the liturgy. Third, in these folk rituals, the lay people are, on the contrary, the subject of the expressions of faith experiences, not merely the recipients or onlookers of the celebrations. And the medium of expression is the language they speak and are at home with. On the other hand, that of the liturgy before, which was Latin, was opaque to their understanding. Hence, they could never comprehend nor feel for themselves the meaning of the celebrations. And fourth, on account of all this, the rituals provide them identity.

Environment of Poverty

The aspect of disenfranchisement brings the discussion to the social location which these religious practices presuppose: an environment of poverty. In general, those who take part in pabasa, who are involved in the cenaculo, and who engage in bodily flagellation do not came from the middle class or above it. They belong to the lower classes–those often alienated from the official liturgy. Even today, they are, in many areas, still disenfranchised, because they are not given opportunities to take an active part and express their faith in parish celebrations to a degree which these rituals allow. (Eucharistic celebrations in which members of charismatic communities are able to express themselves emotionally are an exception rather than the rule.) Quite apart from the gulf created between the language of the liturgy and that of the poor people, the common values which these practices represent are the pain and the suffering which Jesus endured until death, and people who are poor easily understand and identify themselves with these values. Hence, solidarity in values also accounts for the popularity of these rituals in an environment of poverty. The crucifixion for them is God’s empathy from which they can derive strength and inspiration. Clearly then, these rituals speak something of the part of society or the environment in which they thrive.

Encounter between Faith and Culture

Their practitioners to some extend cut off from the official Church, and coming from the grass roots, these rituals--it is the whole understandable--reflect an understanding which is the outcome of the encounter between the Christian faith, which they received with much limitations, and the culture in which they were brought up. They presuppose an environment removed from the centers of religion and politics. Before the coming of the Spanish missionaries, our forefathers believed in animism. Here, it was taught that the forces of nature were controlled by spirits who, by magical rituals, could be rendered beneficent or harmful. These were performed by the diwatahan, tambalan or baylana. If Holy Week folk rituals have anything to tell us, it is the animism has not been completely erased from the Filipino psyche. If one makes a survey on those who join in the cenaculo, for example, he will discover that the motive for participation is not simply to share the suffering of Christ, if at all; some likely answers are: fulfillment of a promise, thanksgiving for a favor granted, or reparation for sins.

In a study made on the penitentes of Palo, Leyte, it emerged that fear of punishment was among the motives for submitting oneself to penitencia. The fear of punishment for doing something wrong the year round motivates a person to placate an angry God. By experiencing pain, one assures himself of forgiveness, escape from punishment, and peace of mind. Nonetheless, this is actually an animist theology, though one cannot blame the devotees .They probably have never been thought correct theology, or have correctly understood it, in the first place. On the other hand, the environment of poverty prevents them from having access to opportunities to learning orthodoxy. Hence, the theology of these rituals does not perfectly cohere with the official teaching of the Church. On the contrary, it represents the result of the people’s appropriation of the gospel message vis-à-vis their pre-Hispanic culture and their situation of poverty.

Which brings us to other shadows of these rituals. Alienated from the centers of Catholic authority and life, they are in danger, among others, of being engaged in for utilitarian purposes. That one participates in self flagellation to obtain God’s forgiveness values the ritual for what the subject can obtain from it. This borders on superstitions, which nurtures the belief that as long as one engages in the ritual, he will be safe, for example, from calamities. This is true of other expressions of popular piety which are celebrated in connection with liturgy. For instance, although a procession is designed as a public witness to the faith, this is not how lay people take it. In many cases, they do not participate in it for that end. That one takes part in it so his illness will be cured, or so his son will reform his life–motives like these are very common. It fact during fiestas in rural areas, many residents will complain if the conduct of the procession excludes their houses from its ambit, convinced as they are that this will also bar them from receiving the graces that are obtained through the intercession of their patron saint.

Subjectivism and Lack of Ecclesial Sense

Related to this is the risk that these rituals are anchored on subjectivism. As already noted, one reason for the popularity of a Holy Week ritual is that it caters to the people’s affective needs. Because it is in touch with their feelings, it makes them satisfied. But there is a danger in thinking that what satisfies is good. That is subjectivism. In official liturgy, of course, this is not supposed to happen, because liturgical signs have their own meaning. That is why the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of Sacraments, for example, forbids the raising of hands during the Lord’s Prayer because this gesture symbolizes communion. At any rate, lay people continue the practice because they feel good doing it. But it is precisely the role of liturgy to educate us in such a way we are able to express the meaning of liturgical gestures as our own, and so enter into the mystery of God and our own as a community. This frees liturgy from the danger of subjectivism. On other hand, since lay people engage in Holy Week folk rituals because they make them feel good and satisfy their affective needs, they do not lead to a real participation in the saving mystery.

In addition, these rituals hardly promote a sense of belonging to the Church. Because they focus on answering the effective needs of the participants, they, in general, are individualistic in orientation. If one were to ask the motivations of Black Nazarene devotees in Quiapo for joining the January procession or for wiping their handkerchiefs on the image, the responses would hardly differ from the ones that would be given for joining the cenaculo or the penitencia: personal favors, either material or spiritual. There is scarcely any sense of being community or of belonging to one. (Which reminds us the pre-Vatican II eucharistic celebrations where each member of the congregation acted as if he or she were not related to the other worshippers in the church.)They lack social direction. Understandably, the theory of salvation or soteriology they embody is likewise individualistic: it is the individual who is saved from material and spiritual evils. Hardly ever clear is the concept of salvation of the community, still less the teaching that we are saved through the community. Consequently, the idea of building up the kingdom as part of their mission is far removed from them. On the contrary, the understanding is oriented toward the maintenance of the status quo. It is not farfetched to say that these rituals are burdened with the pre-Vatican II theology. And since they tend to develop apart from the hierarchical structure of the Church, it is not surprising that, in some cases, they are celebrated without any harmony with the liturgical time and meaning of the Holy Week. And their lack of ecclesial sense of belonging opens itself to abuse. It does happen that these rituals are held either for the personal advantage of their patrons, or for tourism purposes, or both.

More Important than Liturgy?

As is true of other popular devotions, these Holy Week popular rituals–to many lay people–are regarded as more important than the liturgy itself for reason already noted. As a young priest assigned to the seminary, I used to say Mass in far-flung barangays. For lack of priest, only one Mass was celebrated in each of them once a month. One day, in one barangay, the old ladies asked me a favor after the mass: "Father, since you come here only once a month, may we suggest that instead of coming every first Sunday, you rather say Mass for us every first Friday?” Similar views can be encountered when it comes to the Holy Week rituals. For many, it is more fitting to act as Pilate in the cenaculo than to attend the Holy Thursday liturgy. It is more meaningful to undergo self-flagellation than to participate in the Good Friday liturgy, for, in the penitencia, one really experiences than the pain which Jesus himself experienced. And so on.

The problem, of course, is that this only reinforces the development of wrong values in the sense that these are at variance with those held by the Catholic Church. And precisely because many consider these rituals more important than the liturgy, there lurks the danger that they might think that all that is needed to be in the right before God is to take an active part in these folk practices. They might believe these are the ways of approaching God. That many ritual enthusiasts do not go to Church on Sunday, that they do not receive the sacraments, that they are more familiar with their practices than with the Bible--these reflect their lack of belonging to the Church and the importance they ascribe to these rituals. That the most important in being Christian is to follow Jesus daily in discipleship within the community, not in the yearly act of self-flagellation--this, it would seem, is still lost to the devotees.

Incomplete View of the Passion

Finally, the primary importance attached by the participants in the cenaculo, pabasa and penitencia to the death of Jesus results in the formation of values which have grave consequences for their faith and life. (Of course, such significance is not limited to the practitioners of these rituals. As may be observed during the Holy Week celebrations all the country over, it is only during Good Friday that people feel obliged to go to church; hence, pews are occupied to the full. But Easter and its Vigil, which are the culmination of the three-day celebrations, does not, except in parishes where small communities are flourishing, command as much crowd.) The value placed on the death of Jesus has serious implications for a theology of salvation, because this overlooks the life and ministry which led his death, and the vindication of him by God through the resurrection. In such a theology, Jesus came only to die. Which, of course, is a gross oversimplification. Seen in this light, suffering almost becomes valuable in itself, or at least part and parcel of being human which nothing can be done about. But then, this would almost associate Christianity with masochism! Suffering, however, is evil, even in Christianity. In systematics, God is always viewed as a pure positivity. In the Bible, Jesus never enjoyed suffering; if he suffered, it was a consequence of the life he led. He was murdered; he never sought pain and suffering. To say therefore that all that is important is to participate in the suffering of Jesus by simply undergoing self-flagellation or by joining the cenaculo is to oversimplify the meaning of Jesus’ suffering and death. Such a theological understanding would encourage the acceptance of injustice, oppression and domination, and could be used to justify them.

Aberrations?

But despite these observations, there is no reason to dismiss these rituals as aberrations. On the positive side, what the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (PCP II) says of popular piety readily applies to them: “These religious practices are rich in values. They manifest a thirst for God and enable people to be generous and sacrificing in witnessing to their faith. These practices show a deep awareness of the attributes of God: fatherhood, providence, loving and constant presence. They engender attitudes of patience, the sense of the Cross in daily life, detachment, openness to others, devotion’’ (PCP II, Acts and Decrees, 172). In their Third General Conference at Puebla, the Latin American Bishops describe the lights of popular piety, which may be said of any of our Holy Week popular rituals: it “presents such positive aspects as a sense of the sacred and the transcendent; openness of the Word of God; Marian devotion; an aptitude for the prayer; a sense of friendship, charity, and family unity; an ability to suffer and to atone; Christian resignation in irremediable situations; and detachment from the material world” (GCLAB, Puebla, 913).

But then, what is to be done?

Potential for Social Transformation

Despite their weaknesses, they should not be suppressed. Our attitude should be “one of critical respect, encouragement of renewal” (PCP II, Acts and Decrees,175). For one thing, these Holy Week rituals are engaged in by numerous but poor Catholic all over the Philippines. And being part of the Church, they are subject of the Church’s care. This even gains prominence today since the Church in the Philippines has declared its intention to become a Church of the Poor where, among others, its “members and leaders have special love for poor.” The Church must therefore value their faith expression, however distorted or superficial, found in these rituals. For this reason, we must help the devotees in such a way that these practices can contribute to the maturing of our faith. And, probably, this could be done in two ways. First, we can identify their values and motivations and purify them in the lights of Christian faith. Then we can transform them by imbuing them with Christian values. In the process, we can show how these rituals are connected, for example, with the entire life of the Christian, and with the life of others. The purpose here is primary their coherence with right beliefs and right living (orthodoxy and orthopraxis).

Second, in helping deepen their faith, we can explore the potential of these rituals for social transformation. At present, they are observed yearly, but do not have--it would seem--any visible impact on the communities they are held in. Probably for most, they are simply rituals, religious externals--period. But it is instructive that during the Spanish period, from the 18th century onward, the Tagalogs found in the passion story a motivation for revolt against oppression. (A Filipino theology of liberation must take into account the theology of the Filipino peasant religious movements.) We are still in the process of liberation, and as the Philippine bishops noted their Pastoral Exhortation on the Philippines Centennial Celebration, “today, our liberty is eroded as much by foreign invaders, as by internal enemies as the poverty of the many and the concentration of wealth among the few, inequality and lack of participation, injustice and exploitation, deficient culture values and mind-set, destruction of the ecosystem and deterioration of peace and order, to mention a few. True freedom demands that we, especially the poor and the disadvantaged, are liberated from this evils (cf. Gal 3:25-28). It requires profound changes in socio-economics and political structures, revolution of the heart (cf. Jas 4:1) and, most important, liberation from sin (2 Chr 7:14 Rom 6 18; 1 Tim 1:5). It dictates that we ourselves shape our history.” Of course, we should not utilize these rituals to incite revolt—that is unchristian. But surely we can ask: what values could be appropriated from these rituals which could serve as vehicles, in a very Christian way, and how they could contribute to the process of transforming society, which the PCP II speaks of (cf. PCP II, Acts and Decrees #97)? How can “they serve the cause of full human development, justice, peace and the integrity of creation” (PCP II, Acts and Decrees,175)?* (Note: The author wrote this essay in 1998].

The Fugitive--Abandoned by Men and God!

2011-04-15T15:12:00.003+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion, Year A, Matthew 26:14-27:66
April 17, 2011

Probably few people are as fortunate as former President Joseph Ejercito Estrada. It may be recalled that during his Impeachment Trial, it was denied by the defense that he signed a PCI Bank document as Jose Velarde; but Clarissa Ocampo, former Equitable PCI Bank vice-president, testified in court that she was one foot away when Estrada did so in Malacañang on 4 February 2000. According to Prosecutors, an account of his with the Equitable PCI bank at one point contained P3.2 billion, when his declared not worth was only P35 million. But on 25 February 2002, he admitted on television that he had signed bank documents as Jose Velarde, bolstering credibility of the star witness Ocampo. Of course, by the looks of it, Estrada’s confession during an interview aired by ANC News Channel strengthened the plunder case, and that blunder in an ordinary mortal would have sent supporters away from him. But not so with Estrada. In fact, later, Jesus Remulla, spokesman of Partido ng Masang Filipino claimed, for example, that it was Ocampo who made Estrada sign documents using a false name. The Union of Masses for Democracy and Justice (UMDJ) spoke against the Impeachment Trial, calling it the “kangaroo trial of the century.” When finally, he ran once more for President against Manuel Villar and Noynoy Aquino, a good number, even millions, of Filipinos supported his candidacy, and the election results placed him not far removed from President Aquino.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is clearly not as fortunate as Estrada, even though, unlike him, he did not commit any blunder. Like other synoptic writers, Matthew portrays Jesus as the bringer of the Kingdom of God. By Kingdom of God he does not mean a religio-political theocracy in which God is represented by the high priest, or a community in which only the good and perfect people form part. By Kingdom he means God’s rule in a community in which the poor are not discriminated against, sinners are accepted, and the humble, the suffering and the oppressed come into their own. It is a community in which people experience acceptance, forgiveness, reconciliation, unity and love. In other words, it is the fulfillment of God’s promise to the prophets that he will live among his people. As a bringer of the Kingdom, he actualized it in his dealings with the people, especially the poor and the disadvantaged. In particular, his parables and miracles were meant to indicate God’s forgiving and healing word and action are now touching the very lives of his people. His fellowship with sinners was a living parable of salvation and forgiveness. In Jesus God was sharing his very life with Israel.

This was not the way Jesus’ contemporaries saw him, however. The Jewish leaders refused to see him as God’s eschatological messenger. Judging him on the basis of their understanding of the Law, the Jewish leaders, according to the Gospels, regarded him as one who claimed authority that was more than human. For example, he set his interpretation of the Law against the prevailing one in the community; he is portrayed as violating the Sabbath, and he even challenged the tradition of the Jewish Elders. In the Jewish perspective of the Law, Jesus was seen as a false prophet, and in cahoots with the prince of demons. And when he said something about the Temple that was unacceptable to the leaders of the nation, they viewed his action not as something linked with the Kingdom of God, which it was, but as an assault on their authority. But those who were against him were not only the Jewish leaders and their cronies. The leaders themselves found allies among the political leaders. In particular, they had the Governor on their side, and considering that they themselves had no power to put someone to death, they found in Pilate a perfect partner.

Since the Jewish leaders could not accuse Jesus of being a false prophet before Pilate, since this would not make sense to him, they denounced him as a pretender to the throne. Which explains the charge that was written on the cross and the capital punishment. The charge, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews,” was something a Roman governor could understand, and the fact that Jesus was crucified clearly indicates that Pilate considered him a rebel, crucifixion being a Roman punishment for insurgents. One can see, therefore, that the religious and the political leaders saw him as dangerous, and therefore had to be eliminated. It is not surprising that in some gospel passages, it can be noticed that Jesus recognized how precarious his life was. Clearly, he had no one powerful enough either in the government or in the state religion to support him. He could not even walk openly. And one could just imagine the psychological effect these had on Jesus. To bring home the point, one may just make a mental picture of himself being hunted down not only by the executive department with the military, but also by the judiciary and the institutional religion—where could one go to? He could only live the life of a fugitive, and that is note easy. Of course, a fugitive from the law can still hide, if he has supporters to shelter him. But even this was denied him. On the contrary, one from his own group betrayed him. And even those who promised to die for him eventually ran when the authorities caught up with him. Jesus, in other words, was abandoned not only by those who represented his own people, but even by those who were supposed to protect him. No life could be more painful than this. Men abandoned him.

Of course, the abandonment of him by his own men and the institutions of the country, not to say the scourging, the carrying of the cross and the crucifixion, could still be borne if he had someone to cling to. After all, we are often told that when one knows someone understands him, loves him, clings to him and accepts him for what he is and without condition, he can bear almost any kind of pain. That this is true—this is easily verified when we hear the stories of people who have been imprisoned, or tortured, or who are separated from their wives either as sailors or as contract workers abroad. The certainty, the assurance that someone loves us is sufficient ground to survive and bear all the difficulties. In the life of Jesus, one easily identifies his ground of existence with his Father. People may not have understood him, but he was certain that his Father did. After all, in the gospels he claims that no one knows the Father except the Son and no one knows the Son except the Father, and those he has chosen to reveal him. In the end, however, he was unsupported in his sufferings, the Father never freed him from it. This is probably the meaning of his scream at death, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt 27:46). That kind of suffering is obviously unspeakable. At any rate, that is how Matthew’s passion narrative portrays the death of Jesus—he dies as an abandoned Son of God, the Crucified Messiah.*

To Be a Christian Is To Be a Man for Others

2011-04-08T14:38:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fifth Sunday of Lent, Year A, John 11:1-45, April 10, 2011

When some major TV networks featured an Abu Sayaf footage a few years ago, there was much outrage and furor—as well as approval. The TV footage showed machete-wielding Abu Sayaf rebels interrogating captured soldiers before chopping off their heads in an undetermined location at the Basilan jungles. There was much criticism on Malacañang’s decision to release the tapes to the TV networks. People were terribly upset, calling Malacañang insensitive and manipulative in gathering support to the holding of the Balikatan 02-1. Others, however, favored the airing of the footage, saying that it embodies the truth about the Abu Sayaf atrocities. Former President Arroyo herself, defending the decision to release to gory footage, declared that the people have the right to know. But amid the mounting outrage as well as increasing support, a person who called himself “Jun” claimed that the machete-wielding man seen on TV was not an Abu, but he himself who was forced to do it, because if he did not, the Abu Sayafs would have beheaded him instead. He killed others so that he might live.

Today’s Gospel is about Jesus who is the exact opposite of “Jun”—Jesus died so that others may live. But that is going ahead of the point of the narrative. At first blush, it would seem that the story is about Lazarus. But as one reads the story, he gradually notices that it leaves much to be desired. For example, after Jesus raised him from the dead, did Lazarus live a normal life? Did he die again? Why is it that we do not hear about him in the subsequent events in the Gospel? Truth is, these questions are irrelevant, because the story is not about Lazarus, but about Jesus. In the previous Sundays, we noticed that Jesus performed signs—he performed acts of power that brings the reader who has faith to spiritual realities. The water of Jacob’s well was a sign of the water of life, and the cure of the blind man was a sign of Jesus as giver of light. In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus once again performs a sign—the seventh—to bring the mind and faith of the believer to another spiritual reality: Jesus is the giver of life.

But what is life, in the first place? Does it simply mean a power that animates something or someone? It may be noticed that the word “life” occurs 36 times in the Gospel of John, 13 in the Johannine Letters, and 17 in Revelation. Since it is found 107 times in the Johannine writings and 135 times in the entire New Testament, the concept is therefore relatively important. But what does the term signify? Of course, there are various meanings of the word. Metaphorically speaking, for example, one might say that Jennifer is his life, or money in his life, or teaching is his life. In the Johannine usage, however, life is what God himself and Jesus possess: “Indeed, just as the Father possesses life in himself, so has he granted it to his Son to have life in himself” (John 5:26). Jesus has it from the Father: “Just as the Father who has life sent me, and I have life because of the Father…” (John 6:57). Life is therefore the fellowship of the Father and the Son, and this fellowship cannot be destroyed: “Whoever believes in me, though he should die, will come to life, and whoever is alive and believes in me will never die” (John 11:26). If we may attempt at a short description, we say that life is the experience of God in our lives, and this life is one of wholeness that is shared with others. In this life there is integrity of body and soul, and there is fullness of joy. In the letters of Paul, this seems to be akin to the indwelling of the Spirit: “You are not in the flesh, you are in the spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you” (Rom 8:9).

In today’s Gospel, Jesus says that anyone who believes in him will live (John 11:26). This means that a person, even here on earth, can already share or possess this life of fellowship with God if he puts his faith in Jesus (1 John 1:3). And the seventh sign—the story of Lazarus—is meant to illustrate this teaching. If Lazarus is Jesus’ close friend, he represents the Christian who believes in Jesus and, like Lazarus and his sisters, is loved by him. But who does Jesus love? According to John, he who keeps the commandments of love: “He who obeys the commandments he has from me is the man who loves me; and he who loves me will be loved by my Father. I, too, will love him and reveal himself to him” (John 14:21). John categorically states that Jesus loves Lazarus (John 11:3), and therefore one can assume that Lazarus, while he was living, obeyed the commandments of love. For this reason, Jesus gives him life. Because life has not been taken away from him, though he died, Lazarus’ death is only a form of sleeping (John 11:43-44). In this narrative, therefore, the physical death of Lazarus is simply meant to signify a spiritual reality. It is a sign of who Jesus is—he is a giver of life. At the same time, it is a sign of what he can do to those who believe in him—one does not die if he possesses the life of Jesus.

The story of Lazarus is narrated to challenge the hearer to believe in Jesus (John 11:26), and to believe in him is to love, for it is in love that faith is shown: “His commandment is this: that we are to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and we are to love one another as he commanded us” (1 John 3:23). By believing in him and loving him in the community of believers, the believer receives life from him. But if he rejects Jesus and even hates him, one dies. But if one receives life because he believes and loves, he is no longer in the realm of death, but even here on earth, he receives divine life: “That we have passed from death to life we know, because we love the brothers” (1 John 3:14b). For John, this is the only kind of life that endures—others perish with death. Life of wealth will go bankrupt, life of beauty will fade, life of popularity and fame wanes. If there is anything that persists even after death has occurred, this is our fellowship with God. And because this assumes that one loves his brothers, one cannot follow the example of a certain “Jun” who, if his story is true, blindly obeyed the Abu Sayaf to chop off the head of the soldiers, in order to have life. Such life would end soon in death. If Christ is able to give life because he died, so is a Christian: he must offer his life for others so that others may live, and in that way, he will surely receive a hundredfold life.

The Christian Community as a People That Walks in the Light

2011-04-02T04:10:00.002+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the 4th Sunday of Lent, Year A, John 9:1-41, April 3

During the presidency of Arroyo, a power outage hit the entire Luzon amid loud blasts, fueling rumors of coup d’etat. But National Power Corporation (Napocor) officials were quick to explain that the blackout was due to a short circuit that occurred when an overhead groundwire in a Tayabas substation snapped. According to Jo Maglina, Napocor corporate communication manager, when the groundwire fell, it hit the conductors connecting the 230 kilovolt Tayabas-Kalayaan line with the 500-kv Tayabas-Dasmariñas line, both of which bring power from generation plants in southern Luzon to the rest of the island. The general blackout not only resurrected fears for destabilization plots that the military immediately sought to allay. It also put businesses to a standstill and paralyzed the operation of many plants. Life in Luzon almost came to a halt. At night, people lived in darkness, and some could only move because improvised light guided them. Many might have felt they were living the life of the blind--scared, threatened, immobile or almost, and removed from the joys of normal living.

We recall this power outage because today’s Gospel is a story about a man born blind whose physical impairment Jesus cured (John 9:1-41). If this narrative occurred in the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke), this would have been treated as a miracle story, and the wondrous cure by Jesus would have been considered an evidence of the coming of the Kingdom of God. But far from taking it as a miracle, John simply calls this particular act of power as sign, and in the entire Gospel, this is the sixth of the seven signs. As a sign, it points to a greater and deeper reality. It gives the recipient, and those who witness the wondrous deed an anticipation and foretaste of what Jesus can give when his hour, that is, the hour of his passion, death and resurrection, comes to pass. From a material sign, one is led to a spiritual reality. In last Sunday’s Gospel, for example, the water from the well of Jacob is a sign of the supernatural water, God’s wisdom that Jesus, after his resurrection, gives to those who believe in him. In today’s Gospel, the physical blindness of the man is meant to teach us about our spiritual blindness, and the sign of the healing of the man born blind is intended to lead us to spiritual light that shines in darkness.

In the Old Testament, the light that shines on in darkness is none other than the word of God inscribed in the Law. The Law regulates a form of life that a Jew must live if he is to attain salvation. Hence, the Psalmist sings: “A lamp to my feet is your word, a light to my path” (Ps 119:105). In the New Testament, however, the light that shines on in darkness is none other than the Word made flesh. That is why, if John tells us about the story of the healing of the man born blind, it is his way of asserting that the true light is not the law but Jesus himself. Says Jesus: “I am the light of the world” (John 9:5b); and John claims that Jesus is the light that gives light (John 1:4). But if he is the light of the world, this implies that people who live apart from him dwell in darkness. And in John’s theology, darkness represents the kingdom of wickedness and evil; it is the realm of sin, and one who lives in darkness lives in sin and wickedness. “Men love darkness rather than light because their deeds were wicked. Everyone who practices evil hates the light; he does not come near it for fear his deeds will be exposed” (John 3:19b-20). Hence, if one lives outside the Christian environment, he is like the physically blind who lives in darkness; he lives a life of sin and wickedness. Just like Manila when it experienced the Luzon-wide power outage, people like him are blind, scared, unable to move for lack of a guiding light. They are removed from the joys of living with electricity; that is to say, they do not live authentic life. They simply exist, but they do not have real life.

This raises the question: how does one acquire real or authentic life? In the present narrative, the blind man was given sight because Jesus smeared mud on his eyes and commanded him to wash at the pool of Siloam (John 9:6-7). In John’s symbolism, this curing of the blind man by washing and the use of spittle is a symbol of baptism. In other words, for John, true light, which is the real or authentic life, is communicated to the believer through Christian baptism. Notice that we say “believer”—for the story assumes that the blind man has an initial faith in Jesus. Strictly speaking, John asserts that one who lives in sin wickedness receives the light of life through faith and baptism. In Christian theology, one who is baptized belongs to Christ; he no longer lives in sin that makes it impossible for him to be saved, but receives the light of grace that saves him.

The reception of true light, however, implies a moral imperative—once one receives light, he no longer walks in darkness. Despite the attempt of the Pharisees to persuade the cured man to renounce his belief in Jesus, he stood his ground. Though he experienced excommunication and suffered rejection in the hands of authorities, he demonstrated his courage in defending his gradual understanding of Jesus—he is a man called Jesus, a prophet, one from God and finally the Son of Man. It is in this sense that we can understand when Jesus says: “I have come to the world as its light to keep anyone who believes in me from remaining in the dark” (John 12:46), or when he declares: “He who acts in truth comes into the light to make clear that his deeds are done in God” (Jon 3:21). This teaching recurs in other New Testament writings. In a letter attributed to Paul, for example, we are told: “Now you are in the light of the Lord. Then, live as children of light. Light produces every kind of goodness and justice and truth” (Eph 5:8-9). Matthew expresses it differently: “Your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father” (Matt 5:16). This simply means that a Christian is to identify himself with the blind man who, having been cured, gives witness to Christ against the hostility and bullying of powerful authorities, even if this implies abandonment of one’s friends, family and the society to which he belongs.

The Christian Community as a People Living on the Wisdom of God in Jesus

2011-03-26T04:46:00.003+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Third Sunday of Lent, Year A, John 4:5-42, March 27, 2011

A few years back, a group of Marinduqueños wanted to see the then President Arroyo (but were not able to) to appeal for her help, bringing with them a postcard with a photo of children posing along the “dead” Mogpog river, three bottles of bluish water from the rivers with the label “Marcopper Water: Toxic” to remind her of the sorry plight of the islanders. According to a report by the Philippine Daily Inquirer, since l996 when the Marcopper Mining Co. spilled up to 300 million gallons of mine tailings into the Boac River and Calancay Bay in Marinduque, the people have been suffering from fish kills, skin and health diseases, and the degradation of their flora and fauna. The President was reported to have been pursuing a Canadian firm, the Placer Dome, which owned 40 percent of the mining company, for the compensation of the affected Marinduqueños, and it is claimed that Placer Dome could be made to pay up to $13 million to bring back the river and bay to life. But as Msgr Senen Mapalad argued, their demand was not simply about compensation; it was about justice: “What about the deteriorating health of the victims, the rehabilitation of our rivers and the continuing environmental degradation caused by the disaster?”

This mining disaster underscores how important water is to life. Without clean water, people and animal will die. We recall this tragedy because today’s Gospel is about water, more particularly, about living water. This term “living” water (John 4:10), which is the subject of Jesus’ conversation with a Samaritan woman at the well of Jacob, is a common expression for spring or flowing water to distinguish it from the still water, like the one found in cisterns, which is less desirable. A remarkable dialogue began when Jesus asked water from her. Assured that he could give her water that banishes thirst forever, the Samaritan woman eagerly asked for some of it so she would not be thirsty or have to keep coming to the well of Jacob to draw water (John 4:15). Of course, she misunderstood what Jesus was referring to, when he talked of the water that, once drunk, will not make the drinker thirsty again, and that becomes in the recipient a spring of water welling up to eternal life (John 4:14). What she thought was that Jesus would provide her flowing water that is much tastier than the stagnant one. In John’s literary technique, her misunderstanding serves as a springboard for Jesus to explain, and for the reader to understand, that Jesus was simply using a symbolic language, a metaphor. If Jesus spoke of living water, it was meant to bring the Samaritan—and the reader of this story—to the real or supernatural water.

What water was Jesus referring to? In Jewish tradition, water can signify the purifying of God’s Spirit in the community. Among the Qumran sectaries, for example, we find the belief that “God will cleanse by his truth all the works of every man, and will purify for himself the (bodily) fabric of every man, to banish all Spirit of perversity from his members, and purify him of all wicked deeds by the Spirit of holiness; and he will cause the Spirit of Truth to gush forth upon him like lustral water” (1QS 6:21). Most likely, however, it refers to God’s wisdom. In the Old Testament, the role of God’s wisdom is cast in water metaphor: “He who eats of me will hunger still, he who drinks of me will thirst for more; he who obeys me will not be put to shame; he who serves me will never fail” (Sir 24:20-21). And for the Jews, that wisdom is none other than the Law: “All this is true of the book of the Most High’s covenant, the law which Moses commanded us as an inheritance for the community of Jacob” (Sir 24:22). A similar identification is found among the Qumran monks: “He opened (this) before them, and they dug a well of abundant waters” (CD 3:16); “The well which the princes dug, which the nobles of the people delved with a rod. The well is the Law” (CD 6:4-5). In Isaiah, God invited his people to hear his wisdom so they might live: “All you who are thirsty, come to the water!… Come to me heedfully, listen, that you may have life” (Isa 55:3).

In the conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman, the wisdom that Jesus speaks of, however, is not the Law, but he himself, together with his teaching, for he is the one who gives the water that, when drunk, will not make the drinker thirsty again (John 4:14a). As well as his teaching, he himself is wisdom, and the giver of wisdom. Paul likewise makes this identification: “Christ is… the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:24). “What we utter is God’s wisdom: a mysterious, a hidden wisdom. God planned it before all ages for our glory. None of the rulers knew the mystery: if they had known it, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory.” And this wisdom is far superior to the Law of Moses because it gives eternal life to the recipient: “The water I give shall become a fountain within him, leaping up to provide eternal life” (John 4:14c). The teaching that Jesus as wisdom gives eternal life is supported by the first reading (Exod 17:3-7). At the time of the Exodus, when the Israelites journeyed through the desert and became unfaithful to the Lord, they experienced water crisis and almost died, but God saved them by providing them water from the rock. This event highlights God’s care for his people, and in crisis, the Israelites, long after the event, hankered for the time when God would once again draw water from the rock to save his people. That hope finds fulfillment in Jesus.

For John, if the Christian community wishes to achieve wholeness in its life, it must therefore draw water from Christ, the wisdom of God. Apart from Christ, the community cannot experience integrity and happiness. It would be like the Samaritan woman who, in her search for happiness, married five times (John 4:18), for she drank only from the water of Jacob’s well. However well educated and intelligent we are, we cannot be sufficient unto ourselves; hence, we cannot simply depend on our own wisdom and our own resources. It is just ironic that, according to Jeremiah, we prefer to drink water from our own cistern (Jer 2:13). We think, for example, that our own wealth and power can assure us happiness. But soon we realize that these, like sex, drugs, and honor, are fleeting. Moreover, they do not satisfy; once we have them, we never have enough. We crave for more money, more power, more sex, more drugs, and there is no end to that.

The Christian Community as a Living Word of God

2011-03-17T07:17:00.003+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Second Sunday of Lent, Year A, Matthew 17:1-9, March 20, 2011

Transformed was how his mother described Fathur Rohman Al-Ghozi when she visited her at a Islamic boarding school in east Java. According to Simon Elegant (in his article, “Untangling the Web” in Time magazine), when she brought her his favorite food, her son told her that he was fasting, even though it was not a fasting month. Feeling proud that her son chose to live piously, she cried. The school where Fathur got his piety and brand of religion was founded by Abubakar Ba’asyer, a Islamic cleric believed to be a leader of a network of terrorist cells called Jemaah Islamiah, a Southeast Asian version of al-Queda, with possible links to Osama bin Laden. Fathur is believed to be responsible for a bombing spree in Manila that killed 22 people and injured 80. Comments Time: “Fathur absorbed enough of Abubakar’s ideology to choose a path that would eventually lead him to the prison cell in Manila army headquarters where he now resides awaiting trial, a sentence of death hanging over him.” A somewhat similar transformation occurred to John Lindh, a 20-year old American who sought himself and by June last year “had become so passionate about radical Islam that he went to Afghanistan to join the Taliban.” Calling himself Abdul Hamid, he was training at a camp run by al-Queda. If the Hindus could say that “you are what you eat,” both Fathur and Lindh confirm the theory that “you are what you listen to.” In a sense, one can always attribute what they became to the word they absorbed from those who had it.

In a way, the people of Israel could be described in that manner. If they were constituted as God’s people, it is because they listened to his word, and that call began with Abraham: “The Lord said to Abram: ‘Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and from your father’s house to a land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you…’ Abram went as the Lord directed him.” (Gen 12:1-4, First Reading). It was because Abraham listened to Yahweh that God was able to create in him a great nation. And the future of Israel as a nation was defined by its ability to hearken to him: “Therefore, if you hearken to my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my special possession, dearer to me than all other people, though all the earth is mine. You shall be to me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation. This is what you must tell the Israelites” (Exod 19:5-6). Of course, God has no mouth; so, if they were to become what they ought to be, they must listen to Moses, through whom God has spoken. Of course, Moses was not always with them; but what God has spoken through him became the Law, which for the Jews was God’s expression of his very will. That is why for them the Law held a central place in their life as a people, for it defined their way of life, and therefore they must listen to it if they wished to see the fulfillment of God’s promises: “You (must) carry every word of this law. For this is no trivial matter for you; rather, it means your very life, since it is by this means that you are to enjoy long life on the land…” (Deut 32:46c-47a).

But who should the Christian community listen to? In today’s Gospel, Matthew gives us an account of the transfiguration of the Lord (Matt 17:1-7). This event, in which Jesus changed his appearance, his face as dazzling as the sun, his clothes as radiant as white, is really an epiphany story—Jesus unveiled to his chosen three disciples his glory shining through his human body, transforming even his clothes! Jesus was beheld as he truly was. Matthew utilized this story to confirm Peter’s confession of Jesus’ messiahship, linking the suffering Son of Man with the glorious Son of God. But what is of relevance for our purpose is the appearance of Moses and Elijah. In the Old Testament, both Moses and Elijah received word or revelation from God. Moreover, God promised to raise someone like Moses (Deut 18:15) and to send Elijah (Mal 2:23) in the last days. Since the Scriptures note that the present constitutes the last days, the appearance of these two men signifies that Jesus is the promised prophet-like Moses and the Elijah who returned. This easily fits well with the claim that Jesus fulfills the Law and the Prophets (Matt 5:17). In other words, all this means that God today speaks to us through Jesus. Thus, “in times past God spoke in fragmentary and various ways to our fathers through the prophets; in this the final age, he has spoken to us through his Son” (Heb 1:1). No wonder that in today’s epiphany of Jesus, God informs us who Christians should listen to: “This is my beloved Son on whom my favor rests. Listen to him” (Matt 7:5b). It does not mean, of course, that the Christian community no longer listens to Moses; but it means, though, that it finds the completion and fulfillment of Moses’ word in Jesus, and understands Moses in relation to Jesus, not apart from him.

The Christian community, then, is a community because it received word from Jesus; it is his word that formed it, and continues to inform it. The Christian community is therefore a people of the word. This means not only that it lends it an attentive ear, but also opens its heart to it and puts it into practice: “Anyone who hears my words and puts them into practice is like the wise man who built his house on rock” (Matt 7:24). Precisely because it is a people of the word, it is obedient to that word, and it is this obedience to the word, which Paul calls obedience of faith (Rom 1:5; 10:14-16), that transfigures the community. By word, Matthew of course means not only what Jesus has spoken, but also what he did, and especially what he preached (Matt 5-7). By putting the word in its life and practice, the community is changed into the likeness of Jesus in such a way that it really becomes of body of Christ, sharing his life and destiny. If the teaching of Abubakar can be seen in the action of Fathur, the word of Christ shines through in the community that transforms it into his very word. The community itself becomes a living word of Jesus. It would be unfortunate if a Christian community determines its life by what it reads even from well-known authors of books or from politicians and social or political commentators, for it will be judged on the basis of that word: “If anyone in this faithless and corrupt age is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes with the holy angels in his Father’s glory” (Mark 8:38).

The Temptations of Setting Aside the Mission, Enlarging One's Image and Misusing Power

2011-03-11T20:24:00.006+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the First Sunday of Lent, Year A, Matthew 4:1-11, March 13, 2011

Not so long ago, in a proposed bill at the Philippine Congress, Quezon province Representative Danilo Suarez wanted to increase the pork barrel of congressmen by P30 M, and that of the senators by P50M, to be taken from the Motor Vehicle User’s Charge (MVUC). It may be recalled that under present practice, congressmen received P70 M pork barrel, otherwise known as Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF), while Senators have P200 M. Reacting to the proposal, Butuan bishop Juan de Dios Pueblos asserted that instead of giving an increase, the pork barrel should be abolished, and the fund be given directly to the concerned local and national agencies “Who will be in favor if you are in a good mind and in a good sense? Our country is in need actually and many of our poor people are languishing in poverty,” said the good Bishop. “It’s sad that only politicians are getting richer while millions of people are getting poorer,” he noted. According to the Bishop, there is no assurance that the hefty sum would be used properly, because it is one big source of corruptible funds. Of course, greed is not easy to moderate. As Oscar Wilde puts it, “I can resist everything except temptation.”

In today’s Gospel, Matthew brings us to the subject of temptation that is encountered in the Christian community, and he provides us with three typical examples: (1) The Tempter says: “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to turn into bread” (Matt 4:3b). In the first example in which Jesus is asked to turn the stones into bread, the Christian community seems to be faced with the temptation of using the powers given by Jesus to satisfy human need. Of course, at first blush, there seems to be nothing wrong with using power to satisfy hunger. Jesus himself multiplied the five loaves and two fish to feed the hungry crowd that has been following him (Matt 14:13-21). This is the reason why the Church does something about the problem; it sets up social action centers here and there because social charity or social involvement is not foreign to its mission. Still, this can be a temptation in a Christian community because, even though it is a good thing, it is not the proper mission of the Church. Its proper mission is to bring the Good News to men, and social involvement is meaningful only if it is not divorced from the proclamation of the Word. That is why, in response to the Tempter, Jesus says: “Not on bread alone is man to live, but on every utterance that comes from the mouth of God” (Matt 4:4b). Social involvement that does not proceed from the Word of God is no different from the social involvement of a communist; it is pure humanism. If the Church serves the poor and gives food to the hungry, it is because service to them is a Gospel imperative. But before its serves the hungry, the Christian community must first of all be fed with the bread of life, the Word of God.

(2) “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down,” this is what the Tempter says to Jesus while they are at the parapet of the Temple (Matt 4:5-6). This temptation has to do with the community’s power and work to attract attention. Of course, we know that with the coming of mass media of social communications, we now live in a culture in which image building is of paramount importance. People often feel the need to parade their personal achievements, and prefer to splash on the front page of the newspapers their works or contributions to charities. They would even employ public relations agents and image-makers to enhance the people’s perception of their appearance. But from a Christian point of view, success in image-building is not evidence that the community is faithful to its mission. The ability to draw huge crowds is not an evidence of the effectiveness of the community’s ministry, even if many people would like to believe it is—that is why they envy tele-evangelists who have thousands of viewers. Before God, achievements count nothing. What is of importance is the community’s faithfulness to God in doing its specific mission, even if it does not win the admiration of men or attract big numbers of admirers. It must simply trust in God’s word, even if doing so is not recognized. For this reason, it might even go against the world and its values (cf Rom 12:2); but certainly it does not need to justify itself before the judgment seat of men, for what the world holds is abominable before God (Luke 16:15).

(3) Pointing to the kingdoms of the world and their magnificence, the Tempter says: “All these I will bestow on you if you prostrate yourself in homage before me” (Matt 4:9). This third temptation is about power. Of course, politicians crave for it—and some even become addicted to it, because it gives them the power to control and dominate. Political power enables the politician to conquer territories, subjugate peoples, convert them en masse, establish a personal kingdom and, because political power is convertible to economic power, to get rich. In a secular world where a secular culture prevails, political power is a great temptation. No wonder every President makes his or her own enemies, because the logic of power entails it. Still, political power has no place in the Christian community. It does not and will never advance the cause of Jesus Christ; there is no evidence that the Kingdom of God will spread throughout the world because of political power; if it will, Christ should have said so, but he never did. On the contrary, there seems to be something demonic about it. That is why in today’s Gospel, Jesus rejects it: “You shall do homage to the Lord your God, and him alone shall you serve” (Matt 4:10). Political power cannot be exercised in the Christian community, and if at all one should speak of power there, it is the power to serve: “Anyone among you who aspires to greatness must serve the rest, and whoever wants to rank first among you must serve the needs of all” (Matt 20:26). Indeed, Jesus does not mince words in his criticism of political power, for its exercise results in violence and oppression (Luke 22:25).

This account of the triple temptations of Jesus was preserved to teach the Christian community. As Wilde notes, temptations are difficult to resist; but the Christian community has a model to imitate: like the community, Jesus was tempted, but he did not succumb, and therefore in imitation of the Lord, the community must resist it. The community must not copy the old Israel that did not overcome temptation. To make that point, Matthew so framed the story of the temptation of Jesus as God’s Son (Matt 4:1-11) as to make a comparison between Jesus and Israel. Both Jesus and Israel are sons of God (Matt 4:3; Matt 2:15 and Hos 11:1); the number 40 is significant in the life of Jesus (40 days of fasting in the desert, Matt 4:2) and in the life of Israel (40 years of sojourn in the desert, Deut 8:2). But they are different: whereas the community of Israel failed in the temptation in the desert (Exod 17:1-7), Jesus conquered it (Matt 4:1-11). At the same time, this story of the triple temptation of Jesus provides us with a picture of what the Christian community should be: it is a community that lives by the word of God, goes against the values that the world holds dearly, and serves its members even to the point of dying.

Of Bogus Heroes and Bogus Christians

2011-03-04T02:50:00.004+08:00

An Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the 9th Sunday of Year A, Matthew 7:21-27, March 6, 2011

Not so long after Angelo Reyes committed suicide, some quarters began trumpeting him as a hero, even comparing him to the Samurai of Japan, in the wake of the investigation of his involvement in the mind-boggling corruption in the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP). Of course, if flight is an indication of guilt, what could be more indicative of guilt than a permanent one to the cemetery? No wonder, even if he was buried in Libingan ng mga Bayani (Heroes’ Cemetery), many critics were not convinced of the propriety of interring him there; according to them, he was not a hero, and there is nothing heroic in self-slaughtering for one’s self. One such critic is Ninez Cacho-Olivares: “Why then are the Filipinos being lulled into believing that suicide is not only a heroic act of Reyes, but an honorable and courageous act of saving the nation? Have Filipinos become so amoral that they no longer know what is right from wrong? “

Continues Cacho-Olivares in his article, “Spin”: “But all this spin on the suicide of Reyes that plays on the Filipino culture calling for respect for the dead is a big spin to save the corrupt in government and for the ugly truth never to surface. They in the military have even gone to the extent of portraying a suicide of a former chief of staff as heroic, and he is now being treated as a hero, with even the Philippine president, who claims to campaign against corruption honoring the suicide. If such is the way things go today in this country, why former military comptroller retired Gen. Jacinto Ligot, who refuses to talk and claims he remembers nothing, or at times, invokes his right against self-incrimination, should take the “heroic” soldiers’ way out: Suicide. The same should go for the other chiefs of staff who have been linked to the corruption in the military. After all, as the claim goes, suicide makes one a hero, which translates to the idea that one who refuses to help in baring the truth and hides the truth is a hero and his suicide a heroic act; a courageous act and he is “saving the country, its institutions and the Filipino people by his death.”

If Cacho-Olivares is vigorous in her assertion about who is a hero and who is not, so, in today’s Gospel, Matthew was no less spirited in his expose on what is bogus Christianity and what is authentic. He launched his attack on two fronts. [1] On the one hand, he tried to show that the brand of Christianity which the charismatics of his day claimed was not authentic. In the saying, “Not everyone who calls me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 7:21), he had in mind false prophets and false charismatics who believed that their good external actions, seen in their prophetic utterances, the acclamation they made in their congregation, singing the title “Lord” to Jesus, and their miracles of healing were enough proofs of the authenticity of their discipleship. The truth is, they are even described as “lawless”, which could mean that they have probably neglected the commandment to love their neighbor, which is the fulfillment of the law. One is reminded of the question that Jesus posed in Luke, “Why do you call me,’Lord, Lord,” and do not do what I tell you?” (Luke 6:46). In the mind of Matthew, charismatics, enthusiasts and prophets might be good preachers and good lecturers, or good singers and prayer leaders at the liturgy, but their brand of discipleship remained deceptive since they were unmindful of their obligation to lift the poor from misery. They appeared holy, but their inwardness teemed with selfishness, if not greed. That is why, they were “ravenous wolves in sheep’s clothing” (Matt 7:15).

[2] On the other, he directed his attacks also against the Pharisees, who at the time he wrote the Gospel, were consolidating their theology in the light of the fall of Jerusalem, and who advocated strict Jewish orthodoxy. It is possible that they were Christians who--in contrast to the charismatics who thought that, with their claim that they had the Holy Spirit, there was no need to follow the law-- advocated strict adherence to the Pharisaical piety; probably, for them, Christianity was being a good Jew with one added element: belief in Jesus as the Messiah. Which is why, early on in the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew portrays Jesus already speaking of a higher righteousness for his followers: “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 5:20). For Matthew, as for Jesus, Christianity is not about a more strict observance of the law, it is not about being concerned that none of the commandments of Moses are broken. Such brand of Christianity is bogus, anymore than the Christianity propagated by charismatics that does not go beyond acclamation of Jesus’ Lordship. Understandably, of course, the former could win a good number of adherents because they tended to disregard the commandments. (Who, indeed, would reject a religion that is too easy to observe, and yet gives assurance that one can reap eternal rewards?) On the other hand, people flocked to the Pharisees because many valued good behavior. And yet, Matthew (and Jesus, of course) looked at both brands of Christianity as bogus.

In view of this, what then is authentic Christianity? If neither strict adherence to the law nor being a pseudo-charismatic brings one to the kingdom of heaven, what will? According to Matthew, the sure foundation lies in hearing the words of Jesus and doing them:”Every one who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock” (Matthew 7:24). There are two points to be noted here: [1] First of all, the contrast is not between saying and doing, not between theory and practice, not between faith and works which is adverted to, for instance, in James: “What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds?... Faith, by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead” (James 2:14.17). Rather, Christianity is, before anything else, adherence to the person of Jesus. It begins with the belief that in the very person of Jesus God has revealed his redemptive plan, and the fruits of what Jesus did are appropriated by Christians by means of doing his teachings. It surely does not start with anything we do, no matter how good, moral or miraculous it may be.

[2] Which brings us to the second point. The words referred to are not the laws of the Old Testament but, as Matthew would have it, the teaching of Jesus, primarily his Sermon on the Mount. What are truly distinctive of being Christian can be discovered in that sermon, because they mirror the ultimate revelation of God’s will for humanity in Jesus. It is unfortunate that are many Christians, even Catholics, who believe that they are good Christians or Catholics because they have followed all the Ten Commandments. That is certainly wrong. Even Muslims and Jews follow them, and yet we do not call them Christians. Merely to base one’s being Christian on the Ten Commandments is to espouse a fake Christianity. One may not steal, one may not commit adultery, one may go to Church not only on Sundays but even every day, but these do make one an authentic Christian. As authentic heroism must be predicated on truth and unselfish dedication to the country, so real Christianity is based on the person of Jesus, his words heard and incarnated in practice. Consequently, one’s discipleship has a firm foundation when one not only follows the moral commandments, but also does so from inwardness, when one is able not to resist the evil doer, when one forgives seventy-times seven times, when one does not worry about the future because he knows God would take care of it, when one does not look at the speck in his brother’s eyes, when one does not lay up treasure on earth, when one is merciful, pure in heart, and poor in spirit. When one does all this—he is a real follower of Jesus, his brand of Christianity is authentic.*

Who Would Reject a "Pabaon" (Send-Off Gift) of P50 Million?

2011-02-24T18:00:00.003+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the 8th Sunday of Year A, Matt 6:24-34, February 27, 2011

Filipinos got the shock of their lives when, early this year, they got confirmation about the corruption of the mightiest institution of their country—the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP). One revelation that made headlines was the mind-boggling amount, to the tune of P50M ($1.1311M), given to a retiring chief of staff as a send-off gift, in addition to a monthly gift of P5M ($113,122) during his tenure as chief. In the testimony that former military budget officer George Rabusa rolled out, the successors at the AFP helm got even heftier amount, one received P80M ($1.809M), another P160M ($3.16M). (Long before this, of course, an ex-military comptroller with a rank of two-star general, was accused of accumulating more than P300M in assets.) But who would reject such “pabaon”? With the prospect of retirement, one knows that the usual perks and rewards, not to mention the salary, that go with the office will come to an end, and probably unsure of how to maintain his lifestyle, we might not be surprised that one will consider it more logical to accept the gift. A secure future is surely better than its opposite.

To be assured about one’s future—well, that is certainly everybody’s concern, especially when one grows older. The young can always squander their money, but the old surely know better. Security is a great value. Which is why the business of insurance proliferates and prospers—health insurance, death and burial insurance, education insurance, fire insurance, accident insurance, etc. The insurance business answers many of our worries in life. Understandably enough, when the Israelites were brought by Moses from Egypt, and started their desert journey, they complained, because even their daily life was not secure. “If only we died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death” (Exod 16:3). And yet, today’s gospel, Jesus told his disciples, “Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, what you will wear” (Matt 6:25)!

Does this mean that a Christian should not subscribe to PhilHealth, have deposit in the bank, or pay life insurance? Of course, not. In no way does the Gospel recommend indolence. What is condemned here is the obsession to be sure that all the future is well provided for, that one survives into the future without hitches or problems. Which is why, Jesus gave us two illustrations: “Look at the birds of the air. They do not sow or reap or store away in barns… See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin” (Matt 6:26a.28). In adverting to birds and lilies, Jesus was being poetic; strictly speaking, birds do work and they do get hungry. Many lilies die for lack of water. Rather, God who created them does not abandon them, and if man is higher than both birds and lilies, will he ever forget them? Hence, of birds, he said, “Your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” (Matt 6:26b); of the lilies, he pointed out,”I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of them. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you?” (v 30). Therefore, there is no reason to be obsessed with providing for a future without worry; one must leave room for God.

Here, Jesus attacked two human temptations. On the one hand, obsession for a secure future forces a person to limit his vision to himself, and not be concerned what this implies to other people, especially with regard to their rights. In the issue of corruption in the AFP, for instance, it is plain to all that the public funds that ended up in the pockets of high officials could be used to fund the AFP program of modernization, upgrade the condition of the ordinary soldiers especially in battle and enhance its capacity to fight insurgency. People suffer from substandard infrastructural projects because a large part of the money goes to the bank accounts of the corrupt. Mining is relentless pursued even if it has been shown that it is detrimental to the health of people and destroys environment because its vigorous proponents make money out of it. All this in the name of assuring one’s self of a future, in which honey and milk do not cease to flow. Corruption is engaged in, and almost everything is done to shield the corrupt, though it impoverishes the nation. The temptation to create a worriless future intensifies greed. And yet, how are they able to sleep well on the pillow of stolen wealth?

On the other hand, this reveals how little one’s trust in God is. Accumulation of unexplained wealth is obviously an indication not only that one has little faith in God’s ability to provide, even if Jesus said that “your heavenly Father knows that you need them” (Matt 6:32), but also that he has an almost complete disregard for morality, God’s guide to how life should be lived. No doubt about it, he has learned not to fear God. Outwardly, he is against corruption, but inwardly, he is indifferent to receiving kickbacks and “pabaon’ of scandalous proportion. Quite the contrary, it blinds him to the workings of God in the world, his providential care for humanity. Since he has no respect for the signs of God’s providence, he in the process destroys them—just look at how greed cannibalized the environment! Because of this blindness, the greedy does not see that his fellowmen are of higher value than food and bird and lilies; for the sake of his future, he can use his fellowmen, and so he has no qualms about using people in prostitution, making others his partners in pursuit of his immoderate greed, and about raising himself over the broken bones of the poor. The lesser one trusts God, the higher he trusts in himself. Which is why, Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters… You cannot serve both God and money” (Matt 6:24).

What, then, is to be done? “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matt 6:33). Obviously, this does not mean that one has to neglect ordinary household tasks; but this means that one has to give up acquisitiveness, greed and self-centeredness. In giving them up, he realizes that life is really more than the material possessions he has acquired; there is more to life than accumulation of wealth. There are values higher than wealth—fraternity, compassion, forgiveness, love, sharing, surrender, which can be found only in a community, in an embodiment of the kingdom of God, which does not have wealth as the overarching value. It does not mean, of course, that in a community in which these spiritual values prevail, life would not be without suffering. St Paul himself, who lived that life, testified that he has suffered so much (read 2 Cor 11:23-29), but there can never be any substitute for a life where the strength comes from God. That is why he can say, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every occasion, whether well fed or hungry, whether being in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (2 Cor 4:12-13). There is, therefore, no need for a “pabaon”; life is more than our earthly life, more than the sum total of one’s accumulated wealth. God is more than enough. Solo Dios basta.

How To Deal With Those Who Injured Us--Sow the Wind, Reap the Whirlwind?

2011-02-17T08:49:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the 7th Sunday of Year A, Matt 5:38-48, February 20, 2011

“War is hell,” Gen William Tecumseh Sherman correctly noted, and its hellish character is exemplified in what has been called “the Balangiga Massacre”. As part of the pacification of the Visayas, Company C of the 9th Infantry of the US Army was sent to Balangiga in the island of Samar, Philippines, to garrison the town. In a few days, what started as a friendly relation between the natives and the soldiers turned sourish. On September 28, 1901, while all the 54 soldiers were having their breakfast, the local revolutionaries made a surprise attack, killing 47 of them, wounding the rest. Still, the “Americanos” were able to fight back, killing about 14 to 25[0] natives. In a few days, however, the payback time came. Gen Jake Smith ordered his men “to kill and burn”, shooting anyone capable of bearing arms, including boys above 10 years old. Hundreds of houses were burned, farm animals slaughtered, and, according to one writer, about 2,500 Samareños, mainly of southern part of the island, were killed. The revolutionaries sowed the wind, they reaped the whirlwind (Hosea 8:7).

Is this the way for Christians to respond to those who do them violence—almost unlimited vendetta? One is reminded of what Lamech said to his wives, “if Cain is avenged seven times, then Lamech seventy-seven times” (Gen 4:24). Some scholars say that this song of Lamech is probably the origin of the tribal sevenfold vengeance to obtain justice for killing a powerful leader (see 2 Sam 21:1-9). And it is against this background that one has to understanding the law of revenge that the Gospel adverts to: “Eye for eye, tooth for tooth” (Matt 5:38). This law, known as lex talionis, tit for tat, was part of the commandments given at Mt Sinai: “If there is serious injury, you are to take life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise” (Exod 21:23-25). Although that law may appear savage to modern ears, yet in intent it was the beginning of mercy, as it limited revenge. In other words, it was meant to regulate boundless vendetta.

But for Jesus, even limited reprisal has no place in a Christian community. Which is why with authority he replaced the law of talion with another law—the law of non-resistance: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, ‘Do not resist an evil person” (Matt 5:39). In Jewish law, retaliation was a right, but for Jesus even this right has to be renounced. The force of this saying can be well appreciated if one recalls that during the time of Jesus, there were already various groups and movements that sought to dislodge the hegemony of Rome, and it is not impossible that some in Jesus’ audience were being recruited to the cause of uprising against the Emperor, a movement that in fact culminated in the First Jewish Revolt Against Rome in 66-70 AD. Here was an empire that used violence against its subjects; and would it be right—the question was certainly raised--for a Christian to ground his action on lex talionis? The law of Moses grants a Jew a right to make revenge, but Jesus would ask his followers to renounce it and offer no armed resistance.

In the Gospel, Jesus gave three examples of applying this principle: [1] The first concerns suffering physical violence: “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also” (v 39). [2] The second prohibits meeting a legal action with another legal action: “And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well” (v 40). [3] And the third is about accepting force labor with cheerfulness: “If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles” (v 41). If Jesus urged non-retaliation, the motive, as noted in the Gospel last Sunday, is none other love. He wanted to perfect this love by perfecting respect for any person, even those who do violence. Love is shown by ending retaliation and resentment, and by offering no resistance to injury. If it would seem that justice has little place, it is probably because justice, without love, may just be a cloak for one’s vindictiveness. Love is shown in suffering (cf 1 Cor 13:4-7).

Of course, Jesus walked his talk. When one of his companions reached for his sword, drew it out and struck the servant of the High Priest, he said to him, “Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw their sword will die by the sword” (Matt 26:52). Notice that it was in his power to take revenge, but he did not use it to destroy his enemies: “Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?” (v 53-54). But he came to bring God’s love for men, even for those in power who wanted to murder him. Indeed, it was to fulfill this plan of God that he came: “But how then the Scriptures be fulfilled that say, it must happen in this way?” (v 54). Thus, Jesus was clearly determined to follow the path of non-retaliation, a path which God himself has outlined for his Son. This principle of non-resistance is echoed by St Paul: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom 12:21).

Thus, we see a powerful Jesus not using his power to destroy those out to kill him, but allowing himself to be liquidated instead. To suffer indignity and humiliation, instead of retaliating—this is the challenge. When a committee of congressmen conceived the idea of transferring some troops in the east to the west, and some in the west to the east, Abraham Lincoln agreed and told the committee to see Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War. Hearing that the President was agreed to the plan, Stanton told the congressmen that Lincoln “was a d-d fool.” When this was related to the President, Lincoln commented, “He [Stanton] must be correct, as I have yet to know of Stanton being wrong.” True, one might say that the principle is applicable at the personal level, but can this be applied in other situations, like the relationship between nations? But, why not? Would it be Christian to destroy Basilan or Jolo on account of the evils that the Abu Sayaf fighters have been engaged in? Would it be right to obliterate a country because the followers of a Saddam Hussein continue to upset the work of peace? Of course, the logic of power would dictate that that would be right approach, but one wonders whether it can claim to be Christian.

Can We Build a Community Merely on the Basis of Law?

2011-02-10T12:48:00.002+08:00

Exegetical reflection on the Gospel of the 6th Sunday of Year A, Matt 5:17-37, February 13, 2011

Why did Jesus become incarnate? Some people seem to think that Jesus came to teach us about God, and how to love one another. Others are convinced that he came to be crucified, in order to free us from sin. But if we really see his whole earthly life and examine its purpose, the answer would be different. For instance, he did not come in order to die. Rather, in coming to the world, Jesus wished to establish on earth a new community, the initial embodiment of the kingdom of God. Which is why, he started to call his disciples who would become the germ of his community. Being a new community, it offers its members an entirely different way of life. Consequently, it has a distinctive standard of righteousness. According to Matthew, this righteousness, which disciples must attain, is far above that of the Pharisees (Matt 5:20). This is not to say that the latter’s was bad; or were the Pharisees as a whole a bunch of hypocrites, though that is how they are sometimes seen or perceived. In their action, their motive was to fulfill the stipulations of the people’s covenant with God. If they fulfilled what the law of Moses requires, it is because the will of God is enshrined in the law. Their righteousness is seen in their moral action which is in accord with the law.

For all that, however, Jesus claimed that his disciples must aspire for a new righteousness, which is far above that of the Pharisees. The establishment of that kingdom in the community of disciples requires it. Such righteousness does not take the form of a more strict observance of the law in its minute details, although it is thus sometimes understood. On the contrary, it goes beyond the legal requirement. Its motive is not simply the fulfillment of God’s will as found in the law. It is rather the fulfillment of his will as it is embodied in the life of Jesus himself which, if summarized, is a life of love. Of course, Jesus did not abolish he law; as he himself said, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law and the Prophets” (Matt 5:17). But because the focus has shifted from the law to the person of Jesus, it is not surprising that we are given a new way of understanding the law, in particular, the commandments. In this new righteousness, the commandment is to be seen as part of one’s response to God’s offer in Jesus, and that response in love begins with thought and ends with its execution.

In the Gospel reading, Matthew gives us three examples. [1] The first is murder (Matt 5:21-26; Exod 20:13; Deut 5:17). Under the new righteousness, murder is not to be identified with the taking of life. The taking of life is simply the external display of a crime that really starts with anger. Anger, the source of violent crime, is part of murder and is as detestable, as it is opposed to love. We can murder a person by calling him names, by destroying his reputation. Thus, a Christian must remove anger in his heart by being constantly reconciled with other members of the community. [2] The same may be said of adultery (Matt 5:27-30; Exod 20:14; Deut 5:18). It is not enough that a Christian should avoid having sex with a person other than his marriage partner. A woman’s dignity can be violated by a man not simply by sexual intercourse. The very source of adultery, lust, is opposed to love, and adultery is simply the execution of a brewing lust in the mind of the adulterer. Hence, Jesus could say, “Anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery in his heart” (Matt 5:28). [3] The last concerns the taking of oaths (Matt 5:33-37; Num 30:2). To call God a witness is not only to violate the majesty of God; it really reflects distrust in one’s neighbor. And distrust has no place in a relationship of love. For Jesus there is no need to take an oath. A word is sufficient guarantee of one’s truthfulness and fidelity.

The point is that, we cannot build a society which embodies the kingdom of God, if it is based merely on strict obedience to prohibitions. I may not murder, but I can hate, or refuse to forgive and talk with my brother in the community. In other words, it is possible that a community can violate the law internally, without having to execute the violation in external behavior. A community may follow all the Ten Commandments, yet it remains unable to exhibit the values of the kingdom in its life, if the members are not one in heart and mind (Acts 4:22). Which is why, law, whether in the Church or outside, is not sufficient for well being, and even for salvation. On the contrary, it can create hypocrites—people who may appear holy, but in really greedy, rapacious, and oppressive. In the new righteousness, one’s action is like spring water. If one gets clean water from the spring, it is because the source of the spring is clean. If the water is dirty, it is because the source itself has dirt. A sinful action is really a matter of inward thought and external action. We may not have sex with another person, but to seriously want it, to lustfully desire it, is no less heinous. And this destroys fraternal relationship. No community will ever externalize the kingdom of God unless its members love one another from the heart and in action. This is not to deny that law can organize a community, but it would be a community of corpses.

How Do We Change Our Country and the World--By Force, Naked Power, Violence and Uprising?

2011-02-02T17:49:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fifth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 5:13-15, February 8, 2011

Before the collapse of Communism in 1990, many idealists from the world over, recognizing the evils of capitalism, thought that communism, with its program of violent revolution, would establish heaven on earth--the classless society. Thus, the Constitution and By-Laws of the Hukbong Magpapalaya ng Bayan (HMB, 1950) in the country declares in its preamble: “In the face of these national crimes and treachery we have no other recourse but to act. We… consider it our duty… to band together and resort to our inherent right and only remaining means to save our country and our nationhood—armed uprising or revolution.” But after a communist revolution, heaven does not really come down. As Alexander Solzehnitsyn writes: “Communism was condemned the day it was born… Inside the Soviet Union it held on for seventy years only thanks to repression and blood violence—don’t forget that it killed up to 60 million people. Abroad it was able to hold sway thanks to demagogy and lies. It fascinated the West, because it was like a sickly blossoming of humanism. Didn’t the intellectuals of the 1930s believe that it had brought us paradise on earth?” There is really much truth to the maxim attributed to John Galbraith: “Under capitalism, man exploits man. And under communism, it is the exact opposite.”

What does the Church have to say to men and women who aspire to alter the present order of injustice and violence and replace it will a new one, just and more humane? The Church is, of course, not insensitive to the existence of serious injustices that build a network of domination, oppression and abuses, and to the new awareness that shakes people of out fatalistic resignation and spurs them on to liberate themselves and be responsible for their own destiny (cf Synod of Bishops, Convenientes ex universo). After all, it is the bearer of the Gospel, which is precisely the Good News of salvation; and, as such, represents God’s will to change this world of sin, division and injustice, since God himself wishes all men to be saved (1 Tim 2:4). But the Church is not equivocal about changing the world by means of armed revolution; it outrightly rejects it, because it is not consistent with the teaching and life of Jesus. What the Church sanctions finds answer in this Sunday’s Gospel.

The Sunday reading is part of the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5-7) in which Matthew outlines what is distinctively Christian in the life of the community of believers. For Matthew, the Christian community does not isolate itself from the world of sin and injustice, but has a role to play in the transformation of that world. That function he describes as being a city set on a hill: “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden” (Matt 3:14). Here Jesus was speaking to his disciples about their function in the world. This imagery is undoubtedly taken this text in Isaiah: “In the days to come, the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest mountain, and raised above the hills. All nations shall stream toward it; many peoples shall come and say: Come, let us climb the Lord’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths” (Isa 2:2-3a). In this passage, the mountain represents the people of God who do his will, who are faithful to his covenant. By appropriating this imagery and applying it to his disciples, Jesus wanted to emphasize that the world of sin and injustice cannot be changed through violent revolution, but through his community of disciples who fulfill their role as a city set on a hill that gives light to the world. Which is why in Matthew, before Jesus delivered the Sermon on the Mount, he first called some men to constitute the community of disciples (Matt 4:18-22), and it is this community that he describes as a city set on a hill.

As the light of the world, this community that Jesus had in mind holds values that contradict the values of this world. If the present world values power, wealth, honor and domination, the community of disciples will value their exact opposite: weakness, poverty, and slavery. That is why, in sharp contrast with the world, the disciples are to become poor, sorrowing, thirsty, hungry and weak (Matt 5:3-112). As such, they have nothing to boast before the world. Instead of being a community held captive by power, money and influence, the disciples are a community that is characterized by freedom from these. Thus, in Luke’s account of the early Church, we are told that the community of believers was poor, but the members were one in heart and mind (Acts 4:32). In John, the disciples are recognized as Christ’s community in their love for one another (John 13:35). The same qualities are emphasized in Paul’s description of the community: “I plead with you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received, with perfect humility, meekness, and patience, bearing one another lovingly. Make every effort to preserve the unity which has the Spirit as its origin and peace as its binding force. There is but one body and one Spirit, just as there is but one hope give all of you by your call” (Eph 4:1-4).

It is by living this kind of life that the community of disciples functions like a city set on a hill that gives light to the world. Hence, Jesus described the community as “the light of the world” (Matt 3:14). With such kind of life, the disciples lead a life that is in contrast with the world. But Jesus was convinced that if the community is faithful to its call, it will have an influence on the nations. Like a city set on a hill that cannot be hidden, the quality of life that the community leads will not be hidden; nations will take notice of it and ask: why do these people live that kind of life? Jesus must have thought that because of the quality of life lived by the community members, it would earn the admiration and envy of men. As Isaiah points out, when the community becomes an example of a people who, because of their love, release those bound unjustly, who free the oppressed and break every yoke, sharing the bread with the hungry, and sheltering the homeless, their light will break forth (Isa 58:6-8a, First Reading). Thus, it truly reflects the presence of God for other nations to see. Since in their manner of life and action the glory of God is manifested, other nations will stream toward it (Isa 49:6), and learn from its ways. Thus, evil nations will be transformed even without violence.

Violence begets violence. Revolution always engulfs its sons and daughters. Theologically considered, violence is a contradiction of faith in God, the creator of man, who cares for man and loves him (Pope’s Message for the World Day of Peace). That is why a Christian, qua Christian, cannot espouse violence. Of course, it is often said that what is needed is a change of heart. This is needed, it is true, but this approach is too individualistic, and fails to take into consideration that man is conditioned by society and culture. A change of heart would not be workable without a community or environment that makes the change possible. That is why the present Gospel text actually provides a third alternative to social change: not by violent revolution, not simply by a change of heart, but through a community that exhibits the new life in Jesus. By its way of life, by being a contrast-society, the Christian community can renew the world of sin and injustice. Of course, for people who think they are “wise” in the ways of the world, this might appear impractical, even quixotic. This is precisely the reason why hardly any world leaders listen to this teaching but rather resort to their own wisdom which they think is practical and effective—kill those who they think are evil! But what the world considers a wise decision is folly before God, whose wisdom defies the wisdom of men. The Christian community, on the other hand, rests not on the wisdom of men but on the power of God (1 Cor 2:5, Second Reading).

Does God Care for the Poor, the Voiceless and the Powerless?

2011-01-27T09:42:00.003+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Fourth Sunday of Year A, Matthew 5:1-12
January 30, 2010

Reacting to an article “The Free Market for Hope” in Newsweek, Indranil Chaudhuri of Culcutta, India concurred with George Soros that it is poverty and a sense of desperation that lie at the root of terrorist carnage. “The problem is that this simple truth has been overlooked for decades by affluent nations. Though there has been much oohing and aahing regarding the profit-maximization achievements of financial markets the world over, there has never been an adequate trickle-down effect from the miraculous growth of the free-market economies of the ‘core’ nations to the ‘periphery’ nations. Instead, the gap between the haves and the have-nots has widened more than ever. Unless this anomaly is given utmost consideration, the menace of terrorism can never be wiped out.” It seem, of course, that the rich nations do not care for the poor ones. As Maharaj Muthoo of Rome, Italy, complains in his letter to the editor of Newsweek, “who,” for instance, “talks about the millions of people living on less than a dollar a day in forest-dependent communities? They are voiceless and powerless.” In a dog-eat-doing society like ours, it may be difficult to find a rich country truly altruistic, generous enough to care for the needs of the poor ones. But for a Christian, there is a more fundamental question to ask: does God care for the poor?

One of the points that the readings—all the readings—make is that God cares for the poor. But which poor, to begin with? Are they the descamisados (shirtness ones)? Does the word refer to the hungry who are mesmerized by the beauty of an Evita? Can they be identified with the mobs who marched in the Edsa III, now known as the rebellion of the dispossessed, and who remain the constituents of populist politicians? In the Bible, the poor are the needy, without power, and abused by those with power; they are lowly because their “power wavers” (Lev 25:35); they do not have the capacity for provide for themselves the essentials of life. Behind such poverty lies economic conflict (Eccles 4:1), the intensity of which is reflected in the prevalence of slavery (Neh 7:66-67), since this is the lot of those who lose in the economic struggle (Amos 2:6-7) (C. Mott, “Poor” Harper-Collins Bible Dictionary). But the meaning of the word, as used in Matthew, is not solely related to the economically disadvantaged; by adding the word “in spirit,” the evangelist emphasizes the moral dimension: economically poor, but humble. This is what the Hebrew word anawim or amhaarets means. The poor understood sociologically is not synonymous with the poor understood theologically. However, the former would seem to be the precondition of the latter. The poor people mentioned in the introduction are therefore the most fitting candidates for becoming the anawim—all they need is their humility and their dependence on God; they must become a humble and lowly people (Zeph 3:12, First Reading).

To these people who are poor—no matter if society looks at them as wretched, starving, lost, useless, defenseless, worthless—yet humble, God has a good news for them. They are blessed or fortunate, because God is establishing a kingdom for them: “How blest are the poor in spirit; the reign of God is theirs” (Matt 5:3). What is this reign of God? If we take the meaning from the Old Testament images, God’s kingdom is one where the sound of weeping shall no longer be heard, where people shall not build houses for others to live in or plant for others to it; it is where the wolf and the lamb shall graze alike (Isa 65:17-25). According to the New Testament, it is where God dwells with men, where he wipes away the people’s tears, and removed death and mourning (Rev 21:1.3-4). In other words, the Kingdom of God answers the longings of the poor; it is where they will find integrity and meaning of their lives, which the present society denies them. With the promise of the Kingdom, God in effect is liberating them from their misery, and is giving them a new life; he will bring about a new era of salvation. This is what the beatitudes mean. If the poor only humble themselves, God will bring about a new order, for he will bring an end to their suffering.

In pronouncing these blessings, Jesus makes it known that God is a “God of the lowly, the helper of the oppressed, the supporter of the weak, the protector of the forsaken, the savior of those without hope” (Judith 9:11; see also Deug 26:5-9; Ps 68:5-6). He loves the poor, not because they are morally better than the rich, but because God himself is good: “God chose the world’s lowborn and despised, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who were something” (1 Cor 1:28). It is for this reason that to mock to poor is to insult God, their maker (Prov 17:5). As their defender, God will punish those who oppress them (Amos 4:1-3). Hence, their situation of poverty calls for justice. Indeed, their poverty is not God’s will, but an evil (Deut 1:11) that needs correction. Which is why God opts to take up their cause. It is only from the vantage point that we can understand why God, in taking the human flesh, lived in poverty. Jesus could have been born to the aristocratic families of priestly or Sadducean lineage—there is no theological difficulty in that—but he did not. To the contrary, he even took on the life of a slave, being born in the likeness of men (Phil 2:6-7). He did not merely preach to them; he feed them, healed them, and took on their condition. He opted for them in terms of orientation, life, word and deed.

If the Church is the sacrament of Christ, the Church must be a Church of the Poor. The Church in the Philippines realizes this. At the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (1991), it declared that “in order credibly to witness to the love of God in Christ Jesus, we need to become the Church of the Poor.” And 10 years after PCP II, at the National Pastoral Consultation on Church Renewal (NPCCR), among the pastoral priorities identified is the “Active Presence and Participation of the Poor in the Church.” Says the CBCP President Orlando Quevedo in his final message: “In order to make authentic our commitment to becoming a Church of the Poor, we must be evangelically poor. Therefore, we shall seek to liberate ourselves from mentalities, values, behavior and lifestyles that discriminate against the materially poor. We shall listen to them and with them create conditions in which they are heard and can enjoy the blessings of God’s creation. As poor among the poor, with the poor, we shall understand, live, celebrate, and share our common faith in Jesus Christ crucified and risen.”

It is not difficult to see how relevant it is to our society for the Church to become a Church of the Poor. Ours is a world divided into the majority who are poor and the minority who are rich, and by becoming a Church of the Poor, we will show that such division is utterly wrong. Of course, this is not to make judgment on the rich, but simply a recognition that as Christians we are striving toward a community where the poor are not exploited, abused, taken advantage of, or oppressed. We are trying to establish the beginning of the kingdom where the rich do not dictate the life of the poor (Jas 2:1.5-7), We are looking forward to a society in which there is a sharing of resources (Acts 4:32-54), since a community without it is a scandalous community (1 Cor 11:22). Perhaps, if the Church becomes truly a Church of the Poor, it will become a credible witness not only to the presence of God in his love for the poor, but also to the whole world that the form of this world is passing away and that, ultimately, material riches do not count.

Dissention and Division in the Church

2011-01-20T23:56:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Third Sunday of Year A, Matthew 4:12-23

January 23, 2011

It is not easy to unite a fractious nation such as Afghanistan that experienced more than two decades of bloodletting, where various ethnic groups vie for power, and the military has a well-entrenched control over the people, surrounded by foreign powers that seek to influence its internal affairs. But what the UN special envoy, Lakhdar Brahimi did almost decade ago, after the American and British forces virtually flushed out the Taliban government from the rugged country, was probably the best one can expect in an emergency situation. Picked up to head the interim government was Hamid Karzai, a respected tribal leader from the Pashtuns, an ethnic group that regarded itself the traditional leaders of the country. Former King Mohammed Zahir Shah was given a role, if symbolic, in presiding over the grand assembly of elders. Representatives from the ethnic Tajiks are members of the cabinet, to which a Shiite Muslim was also appointed. Other groups were also represented: the Northern Alliance, the loyalists from the ex-king, the Pakistan-backed Peshawar group, the ethnic Hazaras and the ethnic Uzbeks. Afghanistan became whole again.

If a nation cannot survive if it remains fractious and divided, neither can a Christian community be faithful to its call if fracas and division are characteristic of its life. No wonder, when Paul received in Ephesus messengers from Chloe that some groups were creating factions in the Church at Corinth, each claiming that its own leader was superior to the rest, he was quick to act (1 Cor 1:10-13.17, First Reading). Although there is no indication that the factions that torn the community originated in doctrinal differences, Paul considered the problem so serious to warrant a letter. Indeed, that a community is divided into several cliques, each claiming the patronage of a great leader in the Church (“I belong to Paul”; “I belong to Apollos”; “Cephas has my allegiance”; “I belong to Christ” [ 1 Cor 1:12]), this is a great scandal. A situation of division is also envisaged in the Gospel according to Matthew. Many scholars think that the Matthean community in the city of Antioch was a mixed group, though most of the members were Jewish Christians; and in a mixed community, tensions cannot be avoided. It seems that some were of the belief that membership in the Church was not open to all; the Gentiles were to be excluded from the community. That a mission to the Gentiles was rejected is reflected in some texts. One recalls, for instance, the prohibition to engage in mission to a pagan territory: “Do not visit a pagan territory and do not enter a Samaritan town. God instead after the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matt 10:5b-6).

It is relevant to be reminded of what happened in the early Church because today the Church is seeing the rise of various communities and groups within itself. In the Philippines, for example, quite apart from what were traditionally called “mandated” organizations, one can point to the phenomenal growth of the El Shaddai, the Couples for Christ and other Charismatic communities, the Neo-Catechumenate and the Basic Ecclesial Communities. Given this phenomenon of the existence of various communities and movements, there is a danger that one, for example, might think that to be really a Christian, one has to be a member of a certain charismatic group; otherwise, he does not belong to the true Church. Such thinking will result in the formation of independent groupings in the Church, each claiming to represent the true expression of being Church, the others being mere phonies. Or worse, it could degenerate into a Church merely of a dominant group, barring others from its membership. Does not one in the parish hear of complaints, accusing one community of being worse than the other?

Given the existence of various communities in the Church, what does Scripture say? In directly confronting each of the factional groups in Corinth, Paul reminded the Christians of their basic unity in Christ: “I beg you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to agree in what you say. Let there be no factions among you; rather, be united in mind and judgment.” (1 Cor 1:10). The theological basis of this unity is well explained by Paul or probably his disciple: “Make every effort to preserve the unity which has the Spirit as its origin and peace as its binding force. There is but one body and one Spirit, just as there is but one hope given all of you by your call. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of us all, who is over all and works through all and is in all” (Eph 4:3-4). In the Gospel, Matthew says that the Church cannot be an exclusive group merely of Jewish Christians; the Gentiles cannot be barred from the ecclesial community. He demonstrates that the inclusion of the Gentiles is a thrust in the ministry of Jesus. For one, our Lord preached in Capernaum, in Galilee, which was predominantly populated by Gentiles (Matt 4:13).

That these people cannot be excluded from the Church is, Matthew means to tell us, is not simply the evangelist’s own idea; rather, it is a fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah (Isa 9:1, First Reading), and therefore a divine decree. In quoting the Isaian text on Zebulun and Nephtali, the Galilee of the Gentiles, and in placing the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry in that place, Matthew underscores the universal mission of the Church; it cannot just be a Church of the Jews. To stress this point, he reworked the quotation from Isaiah for this theological purpose. For example, in the Isaiah oracle, the sea refers to the Miditerranean; in Matthew, to the sea of Galilee. In that oracle, “Galilee of the Gentiles” designates the foreigners who conquered the area and deported the population; in Matthew, the same phrase has become an official name for the district. And to fit the Isaian quotation, Matthew added “Zebulun” in v 13, even though Capernaum was in the territory of Nephtali. Thus, Matthew shows that the Gentiles are related to the public ministry of Jesus, and at the end of the Gospel, he presents Jesus as commanding that the Gospel be preached to all the Gentiles (Matt 28:19).

This has a great lesson for us. Given the diversity in the Church, no one really has the right to say that his community represents the true Church, and that others have to be excluded from it, or that an individual is a true Christian to the extent that he does not join some other movement or body. We ought to work for the unity of all, as Paul reminds us in the first reading. For one thing, there is no single body in the Church that fully expresses the reality of being Church. The Basic Ecclesial Communities (BECs), for instance, do not exhaust the Church and its possibilities. That is why their proponents are humble enough to claim that it is only “a way of being Church.” The Charismatic communities, however much they approximate the life of the early Church, cannot be identified with the real Church. We are still moving toward the goal of its perfection. For another, every movement or body in the Church has something good to offer and each of them has a value to the Church. In face of these realities, the best thing is to accept the value of diversity in the Christian community. Says the Second Vatican Council in its Constitution on the Church: “If everyone in the Church does not proceed by the same path… if by the will of Christ some are made teachers, dispensers of mysteries, and shepherds on behalf of others, yet all share in a true equality with regard to the dignity and to the activity common to all the faithful for the building up of the Body of Christ” (Lumen gentium, 22).

The Humiliated God in the Image of Santo Nino

2011-01-12T08:20:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Feast of Santo Niño, Year A, Matthew 18:1-5.10, January 16, 2011.

In a section on the life of Brother Juniper, one of the original companions of St Francis of Assisi, the book The Little Flower of St Francis relates that one day, when Brother Juniper saw many pilgrims going to a solemn celebration taking place in Assisi, the spirit of self-contempt came over him. He stripped himself stark naked without his breeches, and went through Spello and two other villages, and passed through the center of Assisi and all the crowd, and came to the friars’ Place. Very much shocked and scandalized, the friars rebuked him, calling him a lunatic, a fool, and a disgrace to the order of St Francis, and declaring him to be put in chains as a madman. The General, who was staying at the Place, gave Brother Juniper a harsh and severe scolding in the presence of the community of friars. Then he said: “Your fault is so great and serious that I don’t know what penance I should give you.” And the Brother replied: “I’ll tell you Father, that I came here naked, so as penance I should go back naked along the same road to the place from which I came to this festival.”

This anecdote enables us to peer through the life of some of the original companions of St Francis, a life characterized by a blatant disregard for social status. Of course, only a fool, or one who considers himself equal to one, would walk naked through the city streets, and fools, like the scum of the earth, are the expendables of society, whose presence hardly anyone gives a hoot about, and whose death hardly anyone mourns. We recall this biographical incident in the life of Brother Juniper because it goes against what people in our “normal” society strive after—social status. To be candid about it, most people probably want to be important before the eyes of society, and to feel important. They want to be number one. That is why some become sad when others, for example, surpass their level importance in the estimate of society. No wonder the rich exploit the poor, the intelligent take advantage of the simple, men lord it over women, the white oppress the black. It is most likely that this culture has seeped in through Matthew’s community. In the Gospel of Mark, we are told that upon returning to Capernaum, the disciples were arguing “who was the most important among them” (Mark 9:33-34). In Matthew’s Gospel, however, we are not told of the setting; he simply relates that the disciples came up to Jesus to ask the question: “Who is of greatest importance in the Kingdom of God” (Matt 18:1).

That such question is raised merely indicates that the Christian community has not been immune to this disease called striving after prominence. That is why Matthew preserved for us this episode in order to warn us of its dangers. For one thing, when it has members who want to get ahead of the rest and be recognized as number one, the community suffers and is divided, with the result, for example, that there arises a stiff competition among them. Relationships are, of course, affected. Some would refuse to talk with those they compete with. Snobbery passes for virtue. The community in the end imitates people in the secular world who are caught up in a social order that values only the rich, the powerful, and the prestigious. Because such a culture harms the Christian community, Jesus offers an alternative social order where man is respected not because of what he has—prestige, money, power—but because of what he is. His alternative, which is God’s will for our society and community, is the Kingdom of God. Under the rule of God, a new set of values is provided. And Jesus does this by setting the child as the greatest in the Kingdom: “Whoever makes himself lowly, becoming like a child, is of greatest importance in that heavenly reign” (Matt 18:4).

But why a child? The reason for this is that a child in the Jewish culture of Jesus’ time was a social nobody. In practice, he has no legal rights. His words do not count. This implies that in the social order that Jesus anticipates, which is the Kingdom of God, one no longer thinks in terms of social hierarchy or status. What matters is not one’s credentials or what he has, but what he simply is—a child of God. St Paul puts it this way: “There does not exist among you Jew or Greek, slave or freeman, male or female” (Gal 3:28). What Vatican II says is of relevance: “There remains a true equality with regard to dignity and the activity which is common to all the faithful in the building up of the Body of Christ” (Lumen gentium, 32). We know of course that in the secular society, the bond of the community suffers precisely because members vie for the most prominent place; others even destroy each other just in order to be in that place of prominence. Moreover, if Jesus chooses a child as model for the society of the future, it is because he envisages a reversal of outlook: “Unless you change and become like little children, you will not enter the Kingdom of God” (Matt 18:3). Changing and becoming little children mean the same thing here: both refer to an abandonment of the standards and values of the secular world and acceptance of God’s values. In other words, the saying involves a change of values and a reversal in the direction of our lives. This means, for example, that greatness lies in one’s being unimportant. And what the world holds as valuable has no importance at all before the judgment seat of God.

In practical Christian living, this means that instead of aspiring for one’s prominent place in the Christian community, a Christian ought to think in terms of what he can contribute to it. As we saw, the community of believers is one body, members of one another (Eph 4:25b). Such being the case, one’s behavior always affects the whole community. If the head, for instance, gets all the food, and some parts do not function, the whole body will suffer. There are two important implications of this interconnectedness. First, because one must think not in terms of one’s individual concern but of the whole body, to be a child means to serve others, rather than one’s self: “Anyone among you who aspires to greatness must serve the rest, and whoever wants to ranks first among you must serve the needs of all” (Matt 20:26-27). It is through serving one another that we express our equality, and our being children in one family of God. Second, since one ceases to think of himself, to be a child means self-effacement. One is able to assume the lowest rank before the eyes of the secular society, and accept one’s nothingness. This is what Jesus precisely did: “Though he was in the form of God… he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. He was known to be of human estate, and it was thus that he humbled himself, obediently accepting even death, death on the cross!” (Phil 2:7-8). In Jesus we see the humiliation of God, not so much unlike Brother Juniper who received insults for walking naked!

Earlier, we noted that in the face of our society that values being number one, Jesus offers an alternative society. In this community, there is equality of all the members, as they are all children of God, and there is unity, as they are all members of one another. But what make this possible are the service of one another and the humiliation of each member. Since they go together, these two are inseparable—there is no real service without humiliation of self, and humiliation is meaningless unless it is accompanied by service.

Being Fools for Christ--To Be Killed Rather Than To Kill For The Lord

2011-01-05T12:41:00.006+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel on the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, Year A, Matthew 3:13-17

January, 9, 2010

By a newspaper account, kidnap gangs in Mindanao and Sulu (Philippines), including the Abu Sayaf, have increasingly targeted priests and sisters working in missionary areas since 1986. Killed among the priest-captives were Rev Roel Gallardo, Rev Benjamin Inocencio, and Rev Rufus Halley. Because of the kidnapping and abduction cases, the Catholic bishops of Mindanao at one time were reported to have “called on all priests, especially those assigned in areas of conflict, to resist any abduction attempts—at all costs. Some priests have interpreted the call as tantamount to ordering them to arm and defend themselves from kidnappers.” However, the same report said that the Vatican’s ambassador to the Philippines at that time, Abp Antonio Franco, “frowned upon suggestions that priests assigned in areas of conflict in Mindanao should be armed.” Ferdinand Zualosa, in his article “Arming of Priests Rejected” quoted the Nuncio as saying that “arming our priests is a crazy idea.” Must priests, and any Christians for that matter, armed themselves in their mission?

Today’s Gospel (Matt 3:13-17), which is about the baptism of Jesus, can help shed light on this problem. Matthew’s account of the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist exhibits an editorial reworking of his Markan source principally in the insertion of a dialogue between John and Jesus. It seems that by the time Matthew wrote his Gospel, Christians were already wrestling with a problem: If Jesus, who is God’s Son, is sinless, how come he submitted himself to John the Baptist’s baptism of repentance? Does his submission to John’s baptism imply an acknowledgment of John’s superiority, as John’s disciples seem to have claimed? By inserting the dialogue between these two characters, Matthew makes two points. First, John is made to recognize the superior of Jesus: “I should be baptized by you, yet you come to me” (Matt 3:14). Secondly, though superior to John, Jesus submitted himself to John’s baptism not because he needed repentance--which is what baptism of repentance implies—since he was sinless, but “in order to fulfill all righteousness” (Matt 3:15b). It may be noted that in Matthew, “to fulfill” does not simply mean “to obey” or “to do”; it usually means to fulfill a prophecy, and while “righteousness” can mean moral conduct in keeping with God’s will (cf Matt 5:10), in the present context it seems to mean the saving activity of God, as in Matthew 6:33 (“Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides”). The crucial text therefore means that Jesus allowed himself to be baptized by John the Baptist in order to fulfill the prophecies and thereby fulfill God’s work of salvation. If Jesus came, in other words, it was to fulfill God’s purpose in salvation history, and his baptism by John was part of God’s saving plan that Jesus had to do. But what did God demand in the prophecies for the salvation of the human race?

One of the prophets who spoke of the work of God’s anointed was Isaiah. In the 1st Reading today (Isa 42:1-4.6-7), he describes the Messiah’s person and mission: “Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased, upon whom I have put my spirit; he shall bring forth justice to the nations, not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street; a bruised reed he shall not break, and a smoldering wick he shall not quench, until he establishes justice on the earth; the coastlands will wait for his teaching” (Isa 42:1-4). It is this Servant that Matthew has in mind when in his account of the baptism of Jesus the heavenly voice confirms Jesus as the Son of God whom God delights in (Matt 3:17; Isa 42:1). In other words, for Matthew this Isaianic prophecy finds fulfillment in Jesus. According to Isaiah, in fulfilling the mission God gave him, the Messiah assumes the role of the Servant of Yahweh; it is he of whom God said, “I have called you for the victory of justice” (Isa 46:6). For this reason, he receives the Spirit of God (Isa 42:1b; Matt 12:18), takes up our infirmities and endures our sufferings (Isa 53:4; Matt 8:17), and gives his life as a ransom for all (Isa 53:6-12; Matt 20:28). As such, he is the paradigm of a righteous sufferer, on account of which he accepts the good portion, the portion of the chastised; he takes sides with the poor and the powerless, even as he is being delivered into the hands of the mighty and the powerful. His mission is not only to bring Israel to righteousness, but also the deliver justice to the nations. This is what it means to be God’s beloved Son (Isa 42:1; Matt 3:17). For Matthew, it appears that the baptism of Jesus by John is no less than an epiphany—it proclaims the identity of Jesus as the Servant of Yahweh.

Since in Christian theology it is by baptism that we share in the mission of Jesus which the Father gave him, today’s message is a big challenge to all of us. In our time, much has been said about changing the world, about bringing justice and peace to it. In fact, many of us take up good causes to make this world a better place to live in; we protest against suppression of human rights, environmental destruction, dictatorial regimes, lopsided economy and many other issues. As the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines puts it, we exercise our share in the kingly mission of Christ whenever “we make the world a place more worthy of the children of God, whenever by our work we improve the world and permeate it with the values of Christ, whenever we are able to overcome sin in ourselves and in the environment and allow the grace of God to break through into the world.” But often enough, we are scared of the toll, the cost of giving ourselves to these causes. Some of us do not want to suffer. We are afraid of ridicule, of dismissal for refusing to compromise higher values. Indeed, many of us do not want to die for the mission. We are simply scared of dying.

Of course, it is not easy to die for the mission; but still, the Nuncio is correct when he says that arming the priests is a crazy idea. For a priest to arm himself with a gun, or think that power comes out of the barrel of a gun, is inconsistent with his calling to share in the kingly mission of Jesus. If the vocation to become servants of Yahweh has anything to tell us, it is that we have to prefer being killed to bearing arms and that we can effect change in the world only if we are willing to stick out our necks, to suffer for others. This is God’s offer of salvation. It is always good to recall that in the old Russia, there were people known as “fools for Christ.” In some part of that empire, we are told that those who commit murder, rape and other crimes received severe beatings. But these “fools for Christ” volunteered to be whipped in place of these thieves, murderers and rapists. We might think it is a crazy idea, but listen to their logic: When these criminals are punished, they utter invectives, shout out hate, and the atmosphere is filled with hatred and enmity. Men breathe insults, hatred and despair. But when the fools received the beatings, they do not shout; they keep silent, not uttering any words of complaint, because they are not conscious of any guilt, and their silence fills the world with love. And it is this atmosphere of love, when it envelops the whole world, that will save it from sin, suffering and death. Consequently, even though bearing arms may be logical to our normal society, as baptized Christians we must be Christ’s fools, preferring suffering to bearing arms, even though it would appear, in the eyes of our secular society, foolish to do so.

Christian Lifestyle as an Epiphany of God

2010-12-31T06:23:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Feast of Epiphany, Year A, Matthew 2:1-12, January 2, 2011

In his biography of the Italian saint entitled St Francis of Assisi, G. K. Chesterton writes of the reaction of the Bishop of Assisi to the poverty of St Francis who abandoned his family home and patrimony, making his home with the lepers: “The good bishop of Assisi expressed sort of horror at the hard life which the Little Brothers lived at the Portiuncula, without comforts, without possessions, eating anything they could get and sleeping anyhow on the ground.” Horrific though his poverty, his simple life, that attracted friends and enthusiasts; one by one, they attached themselves to him “because they shared his own passion for simplicity.” The first to be attracted to his lifestyle were a wealthy citizen named Bernard of Quintavalle and Peter, a canon from a neighboring church. Bernard gave up the comforts of the world and Peter a chair of spiritual authority. From then one, Francis attracted men from all over the known world, and his order changed the face of the Church. Writes Chesterton: Francis “was not only discovering the general lesson that his glory was not to be in overthrowing men in battle but in building up the positive and creative monuments of peace. He was truly building up something else, or beginning to build it up; something that has often enough fallen into ruin but has never been past rebuilding; a church that could always be built anew though it had rotted away to its first foundation-stone, against which the gates of hell shall not prevail.”

This glimpse from the life of St Francis of Assisi points out to us one way by which the Church can evangelize and change the world, even as the saint evangelized and transformed the Church. That style of evangelizing is the theme of the 1st Reading (Isa 60:1-6) and the Gospel (Matt 2:1-12) today. To begin with, we are, of course, accustomed to the idea of evangelization in which missionaries as sent to non-Christian lands to preach the Gospel in obedience to the Great Commission (Matt 28:18-20). But the Gospel of Matthew knows a different strand of tradition that speaks of a different way of evangelizing the non-Christian world. And to appreciate this method, it may be helpful to recall the Gospel reading on Christmas Day (John 1:1-18), which, examined closely, teaches us about our calling. According to John, God took on the human flesh, dwelling with us so that we could become sharers of his life and love: “Any who did accept him he empowered to become children of God… Of his fullness we have all had a share—love following upon love” (John 1:12.16). For John, Christians who have become God’s adopted children or his sons form a community in which a new kind of relationship among the members regulates the community life. Having been chosen by God to be his children, they must make real in their community life the experience of his forgiving love poured on them at baptism. Love, which is the bond that binds all the members, creates wholeness and integrity within the individual believer and within the Christian community. All the members surrender themselves to Christ’s rule (Col 3:12-17). This is the kind of community that God calls Christians to form and the terminus of its evangelizing efforts; it is a community that shares the life and love of God.

But that calling is not limited to Christians. As St Paul could attest, all are called to be sharers of that kind of life: “God wants all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4). “In Christ Jesus the Gentiles are now co-heirs with the Jews, members of the same body, and sharers of the promise” Eph 3:6). For Paul, this is the mystery that God has revealed to his apostles and prophets through the Holy Spirit (Eph 3:5). But if others are co-heirs with Christians and Jews, then how are those outside Christianity to share in God’s promise? How can Christians make those who do not believe in Christ members of the community that now experiences a new form of relationship? Of course, Paul’s answer is through the preaching of the Gospel (Eph 3:6b). In other words, Christians must be sent to the non-Christian world and there engaged in evangelization. But the 1st Reading (Isa 60:1-6), together with the Gospel reading, provides us a different strand of tradition on the way by which others can come to the knowledge of the truth. For Isaiah, evangelization is not just about bringing the word of God to those who have not heard of it; it could also mean preaching by means of the life people lead as a community. For, according to Isaiah, the glory of the Lord must shine in the community; that experience of unity and love which the new people of Zion have with God and with the members of the community must be recognized by those outside: “Rise up in splendor! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shine upon you” (Isa 60:1).

In other words, non-Christians will eventually form part of the Christian community if this community reflects the glory and love of God; that is to say, if they recognize in it the experience of unity and love among Christians. In the 1st Reading, it is related that the dromedaries from Midian and Ephah and from Sheba stream toward Zion because of the light that shines (Isa 60:6). Here, the prophet envisions the eschatological pilgrimage of the Gentiles to Jerusalem following upon the rebuilding of the city. But in today’s liturgy, Christians who read Isaiah take Zion to mean the Christian community, which is the new Jerusalem. And non-Christian nations and people will stream toward it and be converted if this city gives out a light—which is the experience of unity and love displayed by its members. This is precisely the point of the Gospel reading. In the Gospel, Matthew speaks of a star. A Christian reading the text will readily associate the star with Balaam’s prophecy: “A star shall come forth out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel” (Num 24:17) which was a Messianic text. But as Matthew narrates the story, it obviously refers to a heavenly phenomenon. If the Magi, who represent the Gentiles, were able to find Jesus, it was because they were attracted to the bright star; it guided them to the manger where Jesus lay. In other words, for the Gospel writer, non-Christians will find Jesus if they are first of all attracted to the light and life that the Christian community gives.

The Church then can even more effectively evangelize non-Christians if the community members will display in her life the unity and love she shares with God. This is not, of course, to play down the importance of sending missionaries abroad, but this has to be complemented with life witnessing. The role of the Christian community is to give light so people of various beliefs and persuasions will be attracted to it, even as the magi found Jesus because they were attracted to the star of Bethlehem. The effectiveness of this way of evangelization has been shown in history by the lives of many Christian communities, and it was clearly shown in the life of St Francis. As we noted above, the first to be attracted to the lifestyle of the saints were Bernard and Peter, and from that moment, the Franciscan movement continued to grow rapidly. With his lifestyle that would have been mistaken for that of a maniac, Francis had no need to ask people to join the movement. what happened was that people were flocking to him, because the lifestyle of the saint was no less an epiphany of God.

Being a Christian as a Collective Vocation

2010-12-25T13:31:00.002+08:00

Exegetical Reflection on the Gospel of the Feast of the Holy Family, Year A, Matt 2:13-15. 19-23

We are now living in a time of globalization, and for all its advantages and disadvantages, its benefits and evils, it is likely to prevail in the coming decades. As James Wolfensohn, president of World Bank, claims in an interview with Reuters and Reuters Television, globalization cannot be turned back; it needs to be better managed, however, so its benefits are felt around the world. Indeed, globalization demonstrates that the world is really one global city; what happens on one side of the globe is now being felt on the other. The economic repercussions of the suicidal attack on the twin-towers in Manhattan, for example, were felt around the world; no country is an island; each one is part of the main. No wonder the thrust now is to go global. Even terrorists know this. Dr Ayman al-Zawahiri, considered to be Osama bin Laden’s mentor, confidant and chief accomplice, is said to be convinced, for example, that to establish Islamic rule throughout the Arab world, a worldwide jihad against infidels is necessary.

The awareness that the world is one family is a welcome development. It is ironic, though, that in the face of this realization, there are still many Christians who refuse to acknowledge that in religion, we are also one family of God. It is not uncommon for many Christians, even Catholics, to think that being Christian is an individual call, believing that faith is simply a matter between God and him. The question---favorite among born-again and fundamentalist Christians--“Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and personal Savior?” is popular enough, and accepted with hardly any objection, indicating that many are not bothered by the mere individualistic approach to Christian faith. The result, of course, is far reaching. For example, we find families whose members belong to different Christian denominations. There are other families, the father of which prefers to go to the cockpit on Sundays, whereas the mother is almost crazy about her charismatic experiences, while the daughter feels at home with her fundamentalist peers. We have Catholics for whom it is enough to pray to God in the privacy of their homes, but who never bother about being one with their co-parishioners at the Sunday Eucharist and on action in behalf of justice and peace.

That all of us, believers, form one global family of God is the theme of today’s Gospel (Matt 2:13-15. 19-23). At first blush, it would seem that the account is simply about the flight of the holy family—Joseph, Mary and Jesus—to the land of Egypt to escape from the persecution of Herod the Great. It will be recalled that, according to Matthew, the Idumean king felt he was deceived by the Magi about the new-born king, and to make sure that he had no rival to the throne, he ordered the massacre of all boys two years old and under in Bethlehem and its environs (Matt 2:16). Anticipating the king’s decision, an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream, and commanded him to bring the child to Egypt. So, the family stayed there until the death of Herod, and Matthew appended the quotation from Hosea (Hos 11:1) to say that this happened in fulfillment of the prophecy “Out of Egypt I called my son” (Matt 2:15b). But what does this citation mean to us Christians? In Hosea, God speaks of himself as a father, and considers Israel his son. God loved Israel from the beginning, and at a time when he was helpless (Ezek 16:4-14), his love for Israel moved him to care for him. He rescued him from the Pharaoh of Egypt, who oppressed him. In quoting from Hosea, however, Matthew probably had in mind the Christian community. For just as in the Old Testament, God called the Israelites from Egypt, led by Moses, so in the New Testament, God called Jesus, the new Moses, to redeem us from the Egypt of sin and slavery to it, and establish a new people, the renewed Israel, the Church.

To create a new people that eventually became the Church—this is the reason for Jesus’ coming. He became incarnate to make us a new family of God, distinguished for its unity in Christ and love for one another in the manner of Jesus (John 13:34-35). This dimension of the meaning of incarnation should not be missed. Of course, there is the sacrificial aspect of his coming; he saved us by offering his whole life, but especially by his passion, death and resurrection. But it is equally important to underscore the vision Jesus himself had in mind—the establishment of a community of brothers and sisters who hear and act on the will of God in Jesus, a community that arose from the side of his death and resurrection. In Christian theology, one becomes a member of this family through the baptismal bath. In this new community, each member, according to Paul, clothes himself with Christ, taking up his manner of life and death. Since all are sons of God in Christ, there is no more Greek or Jews, slave or free, male or female. All are one in Christ Jesus (Gal 3:26-28) in this family of God.

This is the family to which all are called. One is not a Christian apart from this family. Hence, there cannot be individual Christians. Since Christians can be found anywhere in the world, Christian believers therefore form a global family. Indeed, we have been global even without our realization, and long before businessmen spoke of globalization. This global family of God has a distinctive way of life, which one cannot experience if he remains an individual Christian: “Because you are God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with heartfelt mercy, with kindness, humility, meekness and patience. Bear with one another, forgive whatever grievances you have against one another. Forgive as the Lord has forgiven you. Over all these virtues put on love, which binds the rest together and makes them perfect. Christ’s peace must reign in your hearts, since as members of one body you have been called to that peace. Dedicate yourselves to thankfulness. Let the word of God, rich as it is, dwell in you. In wisdom made perfect, instruct and admonish each other. Sing gratefully to God from your hearts in psalms, hymns and inspired songs. Whatever you do, whether in speech or in action, do it in the name of the Lord Jesus” (Col 3:12-17, 2nd Reading). This rather long quote is part of a catechesis of what it means to belong to the family of God. Being part of this renewed Israel demands a new form of relationship within the community that reflects that status.

As we celebrate the holy family today, it is worth emphasizing that what we find in the global family of God—its goal, its purpose, its lifestyle, etc.—must be reflected in our human families, because the family after all is the smallest unit of the family of God. That is why in today’s 2nd Reading, Paul draws some implications of living in the family of God for Christian families: “You who are wives, be submissive to your husbands; this is your duty in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives. Avoid any bitterness toward them. You children, obey your parents in everything as the acceptable way of the Lord. And fathers, do not nag your children lest they lose heart (Col 3:18-21). Since the family must exhibit the lifestyle of the global family of God, it is clear that as a member of a family, one cannot exercise Christian life in a solitary manner. To walk “in the Lord” is always to walk with the family members, that is to say, in a collective manner. This is a way of saying that an individualistic Christianity is a contradiction in terms.