Friday, June 10, 2011

"Shaking up" - Reflection on the Solemnity of Pentecost


An eighty-five-year-old window went on a blind date with a ninety-year-old man. When she returned to her daughter’s house later that night, she seemed upset.
 “What happened, Mother?” the daughter asked.
“I had to slap his face three times.”
“You mean he got fresh?”
“No,” she answered, “I thought he was dead!”
An odd choice of story for the introduction to a reflection on the Feast of Pentecost, is it not? Well, if we have not seen the connection between the story and what we are celebrating, at least I hope the story provided a good laugh.
Today, on the Feast of Pentecost, we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles. Too often, in artistic depictions, the great moment of the descending of the Holy Spirit was seemingly romanticized. The artists would portray the apostles and the Blessed Mother posed in serene and prayerful positions as the tongues of fire descended upon them. As beautiful and inspiring as these depictions are, they fail to capture the moment which ought to be absolutely terrifying.
The book of the Acts of the Apostles recounted,
“When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all in one place together. And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each one of them.”
The coming of the Holy Spirit, as we just read, was far from serene. It seems, on the contrary, rather “violence.” The apostles, I imagined, would have been scared out of their living day as the “strong driving wind” filled the room in which they were. Then, a bunch of tongues of fire started resting upon their heads. Who in the right mind would not be scared? The experience of the Pentecost, therefore, ought to be that of a great “shaking up.”
I found the term “shaking up” captured the message of today’s celebration eloquently.
The Holy Spirit, upon his coming, shook up the apostles from their slumber. He shook them out of their grief of no longer having their Master Jesus. He shook them out of their fear of being persecuted by the Jews. He shook them so that they might be reminded that they had a mission entrusted by Jesus. And he, the Advocate, had come to enable them to carry out this mission with necessary graces.
The role of the Holy Spirit has not changed. He continues to be the strong driving wind which continually shakes the Church out from her slumber. In the process of doing so, he holds the Church together and keeps her true to her identity as the Living Body of Christ.
When the Church was endangered from forgetting who she was, when her leaders, instead of being models of virtues, were sunk in sins and shameful conducts, the Holy Spirit raised up those people like Francis of Assisi, Dominic of Guzman, and Catherine of Sienna whose examples of virtues challenged the Church to re-examine herself.
The Holy Spirit’s role is the same in the life of each of us today. He is the voice which challenges us when the voices of the world seem to delude us from the Truth of Jesus Christ. He is the shaking up which every one of us need to wake up from the slumber of mediocrity and lukewarmness which are the deadliest state of spiritual and apostolic life.
The Holy Spirit, for the lack of an eloquent way of expression, is the slap that we need so as to remain true to our calling as Christ’s followers. It is no coincidence when the bishop, as he ministers the Sacrament of Confirmation, would lightly slap the cheek of the confirmandee as a symbol of the waking up call from the Holy Spirit.
Let us then not allow this “shaking up” to be forgotten.
Let us then not allow this “fire” to be extinguished in our lives.
For if we do allow that to happen, we eventually will drift into a deadly sleep which leads us through life as living deads.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

"Where It begins" - Reflection on the Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord


Puccini was one of the greatest Italian writers who authored such classic operas as “Madame Butterfly” and “La Boheme.” At a fairly young age, Puccini contracted cancer. He knew he was dying. So, he decided to spend his last days writing the final masterpiece, The Turnadot.
Seeing that Puccini was weakening by day, his friends and disciples would tell him, “You are ill; take it easy and rest.” And he would always respond, “I am going to do as much as I can on my great masterwork and it’s up to you, my friends, to finish it if I don’t.”
Puccini died before the opera was completed.
Now his friends had a choice. They could forever mourn their friend and return to life as usual – or they could build on his melody and complete what he started. They chose the latter. And so, in 1926, at the famous La Scala Opera House in Milan, Italy, Puccini’s opera was played for the first time, conducted by the famed conductor Arturo Toscanini.
When it came to the part in the opera where the master had stopped writing because he died, Toscanini stopped everything, turned around with eyes welling up with tears, and said to the large audience, “This is where the master ends.” And he wept. But then, after a few moments, he lifted up his head, smiled broadly, and said, “And this is where his friends began.” Then he finished conducting the opera.
Perhaps, this story is more suited for a funeral reflection. Nevertheless, there is a remarkable resemblance between the story above and what we are celebrating at this Feast of the Ascension.
Jesus spent three years working and preaching the Good News. He died, rose from the dead, and finally he returned to the Father.
His returning to the Father marked the end of Jesus’ mission on earth. He no longer physically preached the Kingdom. He no longer touched and healed the sick with his own hands. The Feast of Ascension indeed marks “where the Master ends.”
But, just like Puccini, he left this earth entrusting his friends with a mission, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.”
The group of the Eleven who stood there, where moment ago their Master was standing, also faced a choice. They could either keep gazing up to heaven and moaned their Master’s leaving, or they could go and continue the work Jesus started. They chose the latter. And those who succeeded them chose the same. Thus, the Apostolic Tradition was formed.
Now the choice comes down to each and every one of us.
As Christ’s followers, we all are entrusted with the task of becoming witnesses to the Gospel of Hope and Love. Each Sunday, we come to participate in the Liturgy of the Word and to part take in the Holy Sacrifice of the Eucharist. Our lives, hence, are blended in that of Jesus’. His mission becomes our mission. Will we, after having shared the Table of the Lord, return to life as usual, or will we carry on the work that the Lord started. That is the choice that we each ought to make.
Evidently, most of us will not have to go off to distant lands to be missionaries. Most of us will not have to endure horrible martyrdoms like the Apostles and many martyrs of history.
Nevertheless, the way we live our life and the way we conduct our actions speak loudly of the message we wish to convey. As it was beautifully said, “There are five Gospels: Mark, Matthew, Luke, John, and Yourself. The last perhaps will be the only one people ever read.”
St. Teresa of Avila wrote a wonderful poem which serves well as our conclusion,
Christ has
No body on earth but yours;
No hands but yours;
No feet but yours;
Yours are the eyes
Through which he is to look out
Christ’s compassion to the world;
Yours are the feet
With which he is to go about
Doing good;
Yours the hands
With which he is to bless now.

The Solemnity of the Ascension marks where the Master ends his earthly mission. Hopefully, it also marks where his friends, you and I, begin.