Homily on the 28th Sunday of Year
(Luke 17:11-19)
October 10, 2010
When the two commercial jets that terrorists had hijacked brought down the historic World Trade Center in New York, leaving in its wake thousands of casualties and tons of debris, bringing havoc to the American psyche, a number of people went to the nearby St Patrick’s Cathedral to thank the Lord for having been absent in the vicinity of the twin-tower when the tragedy struck. They attended Mass in gratitude to God who saved them from the disastrous attack. But events of course are not always as mind-boggling as the assault on the World Trade Center. And what is or has become ordinary does not normally make a dint. Understandably enough, when one becomes accustomed to an event, however momentous it may be, it becomes so normal that he misses to see even its significance, still less perceive the meaning that has yet to be uncovered in the long run. A sacristan, for example, may tend to regard the change of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ to be just an ordinary part of the rite, no different from the making of the sign of the cross at the beginning of the mass. Indeed, sometimes it takes the inquisitive mind of a little boy, who wishes to have his first communion, to make us realize the profound significance of the ritual. At other times, it requires the touch of God’s finger to make us aware that what is happening is far from ordinary, as in the miracle of the Eucharist in Lanciano, Italy. And only then are we conscious that the hand of God is behind what is happening before our very eyes.
Today’s Gospel about the healing of the ten lepers (Luke 17:11-19) provides us an example of that experience. At the outset, it may be noted that leprosy was a general term in the ancient world to cover a variety of skin anomalies. from rashes, acne, boils to actual Hansen’s disease (Lev 13). In instances of actual Hansen’s disease, the afflicted were ostracized from villages, although they lived near enough on the outskirts to receive alms. Their isolation, which was regulated by Lev 13:45-46 (see also Num 12:15; 2 Kings 7:3-4), was bridged by warning the people of their approach by shouting “Unclean! Unclean!”. Whether the ten lepers in the present story had Hansen’s disease or not, the data do not enable us to determine. At any rate, the episode seems to be a miracle story, in which the lepers called out for pity and mercy, and Jesus answered their plea by healing them while they were on the way to the priests to present themselves for examination (Lev 13:49). One gets the impression that here Luke shows Jesus as a healer who meets the needs of those who cry for help. He is portrayed as a liberator who frees the afflicted from the slavery to evil condition and restores them to the community of Israel.
It seems, however, that—as Luke narrates it—this is not the main point of the Gospel story. For one thing, the narrative ends with a pronouncement: “Your faith has been your salvation” (Luke 17:19). Secondly, the Samaritan’s faith is praised, obviously in contrast with that of the nine other lepers, and the gratitude of the former is starkly set over against the ingratitude of the latter. One is tempted to say, therefore, that Luke’s point revolves around the act of salvation that Jesus performed. Let us uncover what this means. To be sure, the healing of leprosy was not distinctive of Jesus. There were many miracle workers in the Near East at that time, and the Greeks called them theios aner, divine men. Which is why one can assume that although the nine Jewish lepers showed faith in Jesus, as evidenced by their shouts for help, yet they must have viewed their restoration to health as no different from the various healings that miracle workers performed in Israel. Their mindset was completely that of an Israelite who lived under the law of Moses. It was for this reason that they were content with fulfilling the prescription of the Law, which stipulates that those cleaned of their leprosy must show themselves to the priests so they could be restored to the community of Israel (Lev 13:49).
But for Luke, the healing was not ordinary. Although the nine lepers were blind to the salvific act involved in the healing, it took a Samaritan—a social outcast and religious heretic in the eyes of the Jews—to recognize that what happened to all of them was more than a miracle of healing and restoration to the community. For the Samaritan, the healing was over and above all a miracle of coming to faith in Jesus, and an experience of the salvation that comes from him. The nine Jewish lepers were completely blind to this. In the theology of Luke, Jesus is the bringer of the messianic salvation; he proclaims the Kingdom of God, makes it present in the salvific acts he performs, and invites men to experience the blessings of salvation. But to experience and participate in the messianic blessings, one must come to faith in him. That precisely happened to the Samaritan. It is for this reason that Jesus said to him, “your faith has been your salvation” (Luke 17:19). In other words, in contrast with the nine Jewish lepers, the Samaritan was more than healed; he was saved.
Consequently, in contrast to the comportment of nine Jewish leprous who did not show gratitude to Jesus because of their blindness, the reaction of the Samaritan to his experience of the messianic blessings from him, made possible by the eyes of faith, was one of thanksgiving. He recognized that Jesus was God’s agent who not only healed but brought or shared the experience of salvation. Hence, he came back to thank him, and glorified God through him. In contrast, the nine Jewish lepers did not recognize this; it was, therefore, understandable that they were content with simply carrying out the command of Jesus to show themselves to the priests. For lack of the perception of faith, they were simply healed, but never saved. They were never converted to Jesus; they remained under the Law. Hence, they did not feel the urge to thank him. They were unlike Naaman, an army commander from the Arameans in the 1st Reading (1 Kgs 5:14-17) who-- despite his being a pagan and, like the Samaritan, despised by the Jews—having been cured of his leprosy, recognized the superior power of the God of Israel at work in the prophet Elisha, and returned to give thanks, again like the Samaritan. Thus, the story anticipates the gradual blindness of Israel to God’s work of salvation in Jesus, and the growing acceptance of it by the Gentiles, whom the Samaritan represents. For Luke, this Samaritan exhibits the basic element of discipleship: faith in Jesus.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Putting Everything in the Hands of God!
Homily on the 27th Sunday of Year C
(Luke 17:5-10)
October 3, 2010
In the United States, the World Trade Center, a 110-floor twin towers in lower Manhattan, New York, was symbolic of America’s economic prosperity, while the Pentagon in Washington stands to remind us of her military might. Last September 11, 2001, no sooner had people warmed their seats than two commercial planes, hijacked by terrorists, brought down the twin towers without warning, and another wrecked havoc on the Pentagon. The damage, in terms of lives, not to mention property and their impact on the American psyche, was so enormous that the death toll was, in the words of New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, “more than we can bear.” A political analyst may look at these horrific attacks in terms of imperialism and hegemony, but for a man of religion, they raise questions about God’s power and his government of the world. Why does he permit such acts of senseless terrorism? Why does he let injustice and violence run their course?
The first reading (Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4) raises almost the same questions. At the time of Habakkuk, the Chaldeans have replaced the Assyrians as the masters of the ancient Near East in the early 6th century BC. There was turmoil in both the international scene and in the land Judah which was rife with confusion, disorder, intrigues and idolatry. Seeing the violation of human rights in the anarchic regime, while God seemed to be unmoved by the disorder, the prophet questioned the ways of God, complaining why he, who was supposed to save his people, tolerated the injustices against the innocent: “How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen! I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’, but you do not intervene” (Hab 1:2). One is, of course, reminded of the questions of the skeptic on the problem of evil in theodicy: Why does God not prevent evil in the world? Is he not capable of it? If he is and he does not, can he still be a holy and just God? Is he not malevolent? If he is not able to prevent it and will not, is he powerless and resentful? But if he is and he will, why does he let terrorism and injustice have their way?
Though such questions may make sense in philosophical gymnastics, they are foreign to the Scriptures. If anything, it would seem that the problem does not lie with God. On the contrary, it seems to be a question of man’s attitude toward God in the face of the mystery of evil, and its concrete manifestations in history---as in the assault on the American nation. For a man of religion, one’s attitude toward God in the face of negative experiences in the world is one of faith. This is the message of both the 1st Reading and the Gospel, although the meaning of the word is not identical in both instances. In the 1st Reading (Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4), in his response to the questions that the prophet raised, God said that even in the perilous and confusing times, one must trust and hope in him, confident the future belongs to him. And he who is just, because of his faith, shall live (Hab 2:4). Here faith means fidelity and steadfastness. In the Gospel (Luke 17:5-10), the saying about faith is placed in two contexts that have to do with discipleship. On the one hand, there is the larger context which is the journey to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51), which would have been difficult for the disciples to comprehend, for a crucified Messiah would have been opaque to their understanding. Consequently, if in today’s Gospel they asked Jesus to increase their faith (Luke 17:5), it could signify the lack of commitment on their part to follow the Lord in his journey to the cross.
On the other hand, there is the immediate context, namely, scandals and wrongdoings that inevitably arise in the community (Luke 17:1). In Luke’s theology, the community that Jesus intended to establish is one that loves, cares and forgives. Experience shows, however, that in the Church and in our faith communities, there are people who scandalize, are unrepentant and unforgiving. There are some who serve as stumbling blocks to others (Luke 17:1-4). Considering the havoc they create in the community even to the point of engendering factions and divisions, one wonders why God allows such problems and people to be part of his very own community. If Jesus came to defeat the powers of Satan and to establish the reign in the community, why does he not remove those community members who stifle the growth of the Kingdom? Does he not care about what happens to the communities and movements of faith that are, for example, placed in the hands of leaders who set bad examples to others, scandalizing even the most innocent members? Why does he not place millstone around their necks (cf Luke 17:2)?
But it is precisely in the face of such realities within the community that faith is necessary so that Jesus’ followers can grasp the divine wisdom. Faith is the disciples’ response to God’s call to belong to the community of love. In this context, faith means an act of abandonment and trust in God. It means putting everything in the hands of God, knowing that, despite what appears to be human foolishness, the wisdom of God will prevail. If the disciples have this kind of faith—authentic faith—not matter how small, they can certainly achieve great things, and transform the community into one that cares for the spiritual and material needs of its members. It is in this sense that Jesus used the exaggerated image of the power of faith so his teaching can sink well into the mind of his listeners: such faith can uproot the mulberry tree! In other words, many miracles can happen in a community whose members have that kind of trust in what God can accomplish. If human wisdom were left to itself, many people would probably think and suggest that those who are unforgiving, those who are trouble makers and those who are scandal-causing members of the Church should be excommunicated and written off! But human wisdom is folly before God. The wisdom of God dictates that forgiveness, tolerance and sufferings are necessary for the transformation of the community. And to believe in that wisdom obviously requires much faith. Hence the petition of the disciples: “Increase our faith” (Luke 17:5).
With this in mind, a disciple cannot therefore claim that when, for instance, a tragedy strikes the community, as in the despicable assault of the twin towers in Manhattan and the Pentagon in Washington, God has abandoned his people or does not care about them. One cannot question the ways of God. What happens to the community may not make sense to human wisdom, and human wisdom may even appear to present better solutions to solve the problems that the community encounters. But as a hearer of the Word, the disciple remains faithful to God and to his Word, even when the Word does appear not to make sense at all. Hence the response to the 1st Reading: “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.” Whatever evil may befall on the community, one’s faith in Jesus assures the disciple that God’s Word will ultimately emerge triumphant, because he knows that God is faithful to those who believe in him, and he cannot be deceived nor can deceive. All that he needs when the going gets tough is to ask the Lord to increase his faith so it could accomplish miracles!
(Luke 17:5-10)
October 3, 2010
In the United States, the World Trade Center, a 110-floor twin towers in lower Manhattan, New York, was symbolic of America’s economic prosperity, while the Pentagon in Washington stands to remind us of her military might. Last September 11, 2001, no sooner had people warmed their seats than two commercial planes, hijacked by terrorists, brought down the twin towers without warning, and another wrecked havoc on the Pentagon. The damage, in terms of lives, not to mention property and their impact on the American psyche, was so enormous that the death toll was, in the words of New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, “more than we can bear.” A political analyst may look at these horrific attacks in terms of imperialism and hegemony, but for a man of religion, they raise questions about God’s power and his government of the world. Why does he permit such acts of senseless terrorism? Why does he let injustice and violence run their course?
The first reading (Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4) raises almost the same questions. At the time of Habakkuk, the Chaldeans have replaced the Assyrians as the masters of the ancient Near East in the early 6th century BC. There was turmoil in both the international scene and in the land Judah which was rife with confusion, disorder, intrigues and idolatry. Seeing the violation of human rights in the anarchic regime, while God seemed to be unmoved by the disorder, the prophet questioned the ways of God, complaining why he, who was supposed to save his people, tolerated the injustices against the innocent: “How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen! I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’, but you do not intervene” (Hab 1:2). One is, of course, reminded of the questions of the skeptic on the problem of evil in theodicy: Why does God not prevent evil in the world? Is he not capable of it? If he is and he does not, can he still be a holy and just God? Is he not malevolent? If he is not able to prevent it and will not, is he powerless and resentful? But if he is and he will, why does he let terrorism and injustice have their way?
Though such questions may make sense in philosophical gymnastics, they are foreign to the Scriptures. If anything, it would seem that the problem does not lie with God. On the contrary, it seems to be a question of man’s attitude toward God in the face of the mystery of evil, and its concrete manifestations in history---as in the assault on the American nation. For a man of religion, one’s attitude toward God in the face of negative experiences in the world is one of faith. This is the message of both the 1st Reading and the Gospel, although the meaning of the word is not identical in both instances. In the 1st Reading (Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4), in his response to the questions that the prophet raised, God said that even in the perilous and confusing times, one must trust and hope in him, confident the future belongs to him. And he who is just, because of his faith, shall live (Hab 2:4). Here faith means fidelity and steadfastness. In the Gospel (Luke 17:5-10), the saying about faith is placed in two contexts that have to do with discipleship. On the one hand, there is the larger context which is the journey to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51), which would have been difficult for the disciples to comprehend, for a crucified Messiah would have been opaque to their understanding. Consequently, if in today’s Gospel they asked Jesus to increase their faith (Luke 17:5), it could signify the lack of commitment on their part to follow the Lord in his journey to the cross.
On the other hand, there is the immediate context, namely, scandals and wrongdoings that inevitably arise in the community (Luke 17:1). In Luke’s theology, the community that Jesus intended to establish is one that loves, cares and forgives. Experience shows, however, that in the Church and in our faith communities, there are people who scandalize, are unrepentant and unforgiving. There are some who serve as stumbling blocks to others (Luke 17:1-4). Considering the havoc they create in the community even to the point of engendering factions and divisions, one wonders why God allows such problems and people to be part of his very own community. If Jesus came to defeat the powers of Satan and to establish the reign in the community, why does he not remove those community members who stifle the growth of the Kingdom? Does he not care about what happens to the communities and movements of faith that are, for example, placed in the hands of leaders who set bad examples to others, scandalizing even the most innocent members? Why does he not place millstone around their necks (cf Luke 17:2)?
But it is precisely in the face of such realities within the community that faith is necessary so that Jesus’ followers can grasp the divine wisdom. Faith is the disciples’ response to God’s call to belong to the community of love. In this context, faith means an act of abandonment and trust in God. It means putting everything in the hands of God, knowing that, despite what appears to be human foolishness, the wisdom of God will prevail. If the disciples have this kind of faith—authentic faith—not matter how small, they can certainly achieve great things, and transform the community into one that cares for the spiritual and material needs of its members. It is in this sense that Jesus used the exaggerated image of the power of faith so his teaching can sink well into the mind of his listeners: such faith can uproot the mulberry tree! In other words, many miracles can happen in a community whose members have that kind of trust in what God can accomplish. If human wisdom were left to itself, many people would probably think and suggest that those who are unforgiving, those who are trouble makers and those who are scandal-causing members of the Church should be excommunicated and written off! But human wisdom is folly before God. The wisdom of God dictates that forgiveness, tolerance and sufferings are necessary for the transformation of the community. And to believe in that wisdom obviously requires much faith. Hence the petition of the disciples: “Increase our faith” (Luke 17:5).
With this in mind, a disciple cannot therefore claim that when, for instance, a tragedy strikes the community, as in the despicable assault of the twin towers in Manhattan and the Pentagon in Washington, God has abandoned his people or does not care about them. One cannot question the ways of God. What happens to the community may not make sense to human wisdom, and human wisdom may even appear to present better solutions to solve the problems that the community encounters. But as a hearer of the Word, the disciple remains faithful to God and to his Word, even when the Word does appear not to make sense at all. Hence the response to the 1st Reading: “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.” Whatever evil may befall on the community, one’s faith in Jesus assures the disciple that God’s Word will ultimately emerge triumphant, because he knows that God is faithful to those who believe in him, and he cannot be deceived nor can deceive. All that he needs when the going gets tough is to ask the Lord to increase his faith so it could accomplish miracles!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Wealth and Poverty in the Life of Our Christian Community
Homily on the 26th Sunday of Year
(Luke 16:19-31)
September 26, 2010
A few years ago, the problems of praying in the classroom or at graduations and of placing Christmas trees in government offices were brought to some US Courts. Protesters against such religious practices complained that these violated the principle of separation between Church and State. Hearing the oral arguments in courts, one could not help making a mental note that such questions would not have been raised had the protesters viewed religion as embracing social attitude and behavior. But if the issues tell us anything, it is that they tend to imply that for those against the exercise of religious practices in schools and offices, religion is merely a private affair, something that transpires only between God and the private individual. And we will not be surprised if, out of consistency in their outlook and position, the same protesters go to court to ask for the removal of the words “In God We Trust” in the American dollar.
But to confine religion to the privacy of the individual is to make a caricature out of it. As this Sunday’s readings indicate, our faith in God is intimately linked with matters affecting the society. And one of these matters concerns the question of wealth and poverty. In an unprecedented statement about the situation in the world, the l97l Synod of Bishops questioned “the serious injustices that are building around the world of men a network of domination, oppression and abuses which stifle freedom and which keep the greater part of humanity from sharing the building up and enjoyment of a more just and more fraternal world.” That millions, for example, starve in Somalia and other eastern African countries while those in the West have more than enough of almost everything is simply not morally right. It is unjust. So is the situation in the Philippines in which, in the words of the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (PCP-II), “the poverty and destitution of the great mass of our people are only too evident, contrasting sharply with the wealth and luxury of the relatively few families, the elite top of our social pyramid.”
It is against this background that today’s Gospel on the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31) must be viewed. The story, probably based on an Egyptian tale, adapted in Judaism, and retold by Jesus, concerns two characters: a rich man (erroneously named Dives in some translations) who indulged in a very luxurious life fit for kings and princes, and a poor man called Lazarus was so poor that he could only hope that he could eat his fill of the scraps from the rich man’s table, and so weak that he could not even defend himself from the dogs that licked his sores. But the reversal of fate after the two died is utterly shocking: the rich man went to Hades, while Lazarus rested on Abraham’s bosom—a fortune which would be difficult to accept in a culture that sees God’s blessing in wealth, and his curse in poverty.
But why the reversal of fortunes in the next world? Though it is tempting to assume that the rich man must have lived a sinful life, whereas Lazarus was virtuous, the parable does not make even the slight suggestion about it. Most likely, it is simply that the rich man wallowed in wealth, whereas Lazarus was in misery, and that the stark inequality in their living conditions was utterly wrong. This could only mean that to enjoy the luxuries of life while millions starve in scandalous poverty is not morally right. Which is why it is not difficult to understand when we hear in the 1st Reading Amos the prophet upbraiding the rich, viewing their extravagance as morally intolerable: “Lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches, they eat lambs taken from the flock, and calves from the stall, improvising music of the harp, like David, they devise their own accompaniment. They drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils; yet they are not made ill by the collapse of Joseph!” (Amos 6:4-6).
The Bishops of the Philippines, in their Pastoral Exhortation on the Philippine Economy, bring home the point raised by Jesus’ parable and Amos’ woes. After enunciating the principles of the universal purpose of the created goods and private property, equitable distribution, the use of productive property for the common good, the duty to preserve the environment and responsibly use the natural resources (nn 47-48), they declared: “In our Philippine situation such principles would certainly reject situations like the continuing concentration of economic power in the hands of a few; particularly oligopolies; the pervading presence of absolute poverty; the flight of financial capital especially in times of national crisis; and legislation that sacrifices the good of the many in order to preserve the vested interests of the few. The same principles would mandate the ethical directions that businesses and investments should take: Create jobs in the local market, open to the public ownership of corporations, especially those related to our natural resources; and invest in the rural and poor areas for the sake of the poor, even when profits are less.”
It is difficult to see how a sharp contrast between wealth and poverty can be reconciled with a community that calls itself Christian. Of course, from a human point of view, it does not befit humanity. As Helder Camara noted, “poverty makes a person subhuman, excess of wealth makes a person inhuman.” But from a Christian point of view, two reasons may be advanced why such stark inequality is morally wrong. First, according to Paul, we form one body (1 Cor 10:17; 12:12), and it is scandalous to celebrate one Eucharist, one bread and one cup, while the contrast between superfluous wealth and grinding poverty remains unchanged in our situation (1 Cor 11:18-22). It is contempt for the Church of God. As Edward Schillebeeckx puts it, “the great scandal is the intercommunion of rich Christians who remain rich and poor Christians who remain poor while celebrating the same Eucharist, taking no notice of the Christian model of sharing possession.” Second, we cannot continue to speak of love if we, as a community, remain divided into the rich who are few and the many who are poor (1 John 3:17). In fact, our faith is without life if we close ourselves and be blind to that division (Jas 2:15-27). We must share because, according to the Second Vatican Council, God destined the earth and all it contains for all humanity and all peoples so that all created things would be shared fairly by all humankind under the guidance of justice, and tempered by charity (Gaudium et spes, 69).
(Luke 16:19-31)
September 26, 2010
A few years ago, the problems of praying in the classroom or at graduations and of placing Christmas trees in government offices were brought to some US Courts. Protesters against such religious practices complained that these violated the principle of separation between Church and State. Hearing the oral arguments in courts, one could not help making a mental note that such questions would not have been raised had the protesters viewed religion as embracing social attitude and behavior. But if the issues tell us anything, it is that they tend to imply that for those against the exercise of religious practices in schools and offices, religion is merely a private affair, something that transpires only between God and the private individual. And we will not be surprised if, out of consistency in their outlook and position, the same protesters go to court to ask for the removal of the words “In God We Trust” in the American dollar.
But to confine religion to the privacy of the individual is to make a caricature out of it. As this Sunday’s readings indicate, our faith in God is intimately linked with matters affecting the society. And one of these matters concerns the question of wealth and poverty. In an unprecedented statement about the situation in the world, the l97l Synod of Bishops questioned “the serious injustices that are building around the world of men a network of domination, oppression and abuses which stifle freedom and which keep the greater part of humanity from sharing the building up and enjoyment of a more just and more fraternal world.” That millions, for example, starve in Somalia and other eastern African countries while those in the West have more than enough of almost everything is simply not morally right. It is unjust. So is the situation in the Philippines in which, in the words of the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (PCP-II), “the poverty and destitution of the great mass of our people are only too evident, contrasting sharply with the wealth and luxury of the relatively few families, the elite top of our social pyramid.”
It is against this background that today’s Gospel on the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31) must be viewed. The story, probably based on an Egyptian tale, adapted in Judaism, and retold by Jesus, concerns two characters: a rich man (erroneously named Dives in some translations) who indulged in a very luxurious life fit for kings and princes, and a poor man called Lazarus was so poor that he could only hope that he could eat his fill of the scraps from the rich man’s table, and so weak that he could not even defend himself from the dogs that licked his sores. But the reversal of fate after the two died is utterly shocking: the rich man went to Hades, while Lazarus rested on Abraham’s bosom—a fortune which would be difficult to accept in a culture that sees God’s blessing in wealth, and his curse in poverty.
But why the reversal of fortunes in the next world? Though it is tempting to assume that the rich man must have lived a sinful life, whereas Lazarus was virtuous, the parable does not make even the slight suggestion about it. Most likely, it is simply that the rich man wallowed in wealth, whereas Lazarus was in misery, and that the stark inequality in their living conditions was utterly wrong. This could only mean that to enjoy the luxuries of life while millions starve in scandalous poverty is not morally right. Which is why it is not difficult to understand when we hear in the 1st Reading Amos the prophet upbraiding the rich, viewing their extravagance as morally intolerable: “Lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches, they eat lambs taken from the flock, and calves from the stall, improvising music of the harp, like David, they devise their own accompaniment. They drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils; yet they are not made ill by the collapse of Joseph!” (Amos 6:4-6).
The Bishops of the Philippines, in their Pastoral Exhortation on the Philippine Economy, bring home the point raised by Jesus’ parable and Amos’ woes. After enunciating the principles of the universal purpose of the created goods and private property, equitable distribution, the use of productive property for the common good, the duty to preserve the environment and responsibly use the natural resources (nn 47-48), they declared: “In our Philippine situation such principles would certainly reject situations like the continuing concentration of economic power in the hands of a few; particularly oligopolies; the pervading presence of absolute poverty; the flight of financial capital especially in times of national crisis; and legislation that sacrifices the good of the many in order to preserve the vested interests of the few. The same principles would mandate the ethical directions that businesses and investments should take: Create jobs in the local market, open to the public ownership of corporations, especially those related to our natural resources; and invest in the rural and poor areas for the sake of the poor, even when profits are less.”
It is difficult to see how a sharp contrast between wealth and poverty can be reconciled with a community that calls itself Christian. Of course, from a human point of view, it does not befit humanity. As Helder Camara noted, “poverty makes a person subhuman, excess of wealth makes a person inhuman.” But from a Christian point of view, two reasons may be advanced why such stark inequality is morally wrong. First, according to Paul, we form one body (1 Cor 10:17; 12:12), and it is scandalous to celebrate one Eucharist, one bread and one cup, while the contrast between superfluous wealth and grinding poverty remains unchanged in our situation (1 Cor 11:18-22). It is contempt for the Church of God. As Edward Schillebeeckx puts it, “the great scandal is the intercommunion of rich Christians who remain rich and poor Christians who remain poor while celebrating the same Eucharist, taking no notice of the Christian model of sharing possession.” Second, we cannot continue to speak of love if we, as a community, remain divided into the rich who are few and the many who are poor (1 John 3:17). In fact, our faith is without life if we close ourselves and be blind to that division (Jas 2:15-27). We must share because, according to the Second Vatican Council, God destined the earth and all it contains for all humanity and all peoples so that all created things would be shared fairly by all humankind under the guidance of justice, and tempered by charity (Gaudium et spes, 69).
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