"Worth It all" Reflection on the Gospel of 5th Sunday of Lent - Year A

Horror gripped the heart of the World War I soldier, as he saw his life-long friend fall in battle. Caught in a trench with continuous gunfire whizzing over his head, the soldier asked his lieutenant if he might go out into the "No Man's Land" between the trenches to bring his fallen comrade back.

"You can go," said the lieutenant, "but I don't think it will be worth it. Your friend is probably dead and you may throw your own life away."

The lieutenant's words didn't matter, and the soldier went anyway. Miraculously he managed to reach his friend, hoist him onto his shoulder, and bring him back to their company's trench. As the two of them tumbled in together to the bottom of the trench, the officer checked the wounded soldier, then looked kindly at his friend.

"I told you it wouldn't be worth it," he said. "Your friend is dead, and you are mortally wounded."

"It was worth it, though, sir," the soldier said.

"How do you mean, 'worth it'?" responded the lieutenant. "Your friend is dead!"

"Yes sir," the private answered. "But it was worth it because when I got to him, he was still alive, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him say, 'Jim, I knew you'd come.'"

What a beautiful story of authentic friendship!

Today’s Gospel, just like last week, is very rich in meaning. We could spend a lot of time reflecting on themes which it presents such as Martha’s profession of faith, or the nature of death, the resurrection, and so on. However, I wish to direct our focus on one theme which I find to be just as important as those topics mentioned.

Today, I wish to reflect on the friendship between Jesus and Lazarus, and this friendship is just as beautiful, if not to say a lot more than, the friendship between the two soldiers in the story stated above.

Knowing that his friend, Lazarus, whom he loved, had fallen ill, Jesus decided to go back to Judea. This decision certainly proved to be shocking to his disciples. They told him: “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?”

Indeed, in Judea, Jesus gained as many enemies as he gained many friends. The Jews there had started plotting to have him killed. Just like the introductory story, Jesus returning to Bethany seemed to be a suicidal mission. The disciples tried their best to talk him out of it.

However, Jesus would have none of that. His friend was ill and he was not going to let the danger prevent him from coming to see Lazarus.

Just like the soldier in our story, despite the fact that those around kept telling him that it would not be worth the danger, Jesus came for his friend anyway.

Poor Thomas, I imagine, rolled his eyes and muttered to the other disciples: “Let us also go to die with him.” –this could translate: O Jeez, we’re all gonna die!

When they arrived at Martha’s and Mary’s place, they found out that Lazarus had been dead for four days. Upon hearing the news and witnessing the grief of Martha and Mary, Jesus wept for his friends. He must have cried a lot, because those around him muttered “See how he loved him.”

Can we see the beauty of Jesus’ friendship for Lazarus?

For his friend, Christ was willing to risk his life. For his friend, Christ was willing to dive into danger while others kept insisting that it was not worth it. For his friend, Christ was willing to reach beyond death to bring him back.

This is the friendship of God-made-man. And this friendship, he willingly offers to us all.

One of the most beautiful titles that are attributed to God is Philanthropos – Friend of humanity. Friendship with the human race seems to be to God more important than anything.

Because of this friendship, He was willing to strip off all his glory and take upon himself human nature. He did so in order to be closer to his friends. He did so in order to be one among his friends.

Because of this friendship, he worked tirelessly for three years preaching the Kingdom, healing the sick, helping the blind see, and opening the tongue of the mute.

And ultimately, upon the hill of Calvary, he laid down his life willingly for all his friends.

It really does not seem to worth it. Humanity does not seem to appreciate his friendship. For all the good works he did, they wanted him to be crucified. Those who were close to him abandoned him to the hands of sinners. Upon the cross, Jesus Christ was completely alone. He was showing humanity the depth of his love, and they turned their face, they ridiculed him, humiliated him, and mercilessly pierced his Sacred Heart.

No, no, it is not worth it at all in the eyes of the world.

But God’s love and friendship is not as the world’s. His love “does not reason, does not measure, does not create barriers, does not calculate, does not remember offenses, and does not impose conditions.”[1] It “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.” (1 Cor. 13: 7)

Very soon, we will once again celebrate The Triduum. We will, once more, recall the sacrifice of “one who lays down his life for his friends.” We will, once more, recall the depth of God’s love for humanity and the extent that he would go to show it.

The suffering of the cross was despicable. But for Jesus Christ, the Philanthropos, because of his friends, it was worth it all.

---

[1] Francis Xavier Nguyễn Văn Thuận, Testimony of Hope, (Boston: Pauline Books&Media), 2000, 18.

"Blindness" - Reflection of the Gospel of the 4th Sunday of Lent (Year A)

What an exciting Gospel Account!

Everything was moving with such an incredibly fast pace. So many things happened in that one day. However, we can all agree on one thing. Everything started with the healing of a blind man. Therefore, I think it is fair to pick “blindness” as the topic for our reflection.

The man in the Gospel today was born blind. This physical defect, as well as many others, is understood among the Jews as God’s punishment for those who were sinful. That was why the Disciples asked Jesus, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

In our life, it is not uncommon to think, whenever we encounter sufferings such as misfortunes or serious illnesses, that we are punished by God for our sins. It is almost like God was getting back at us for not being perfect. It is certainly not the case as Jesus pointed out, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

To put it in a different way, whenever we suffer, or whenever we are most vulnerable, that is when we truly realize that we need God. Suffering is a part of life. It is an unfortunate consequence of Original Sin. However, God does allow suffering to occur, so that his children will not get too big headed, so that we can realize that we are always in need of the Savior.

Jesus, as the Savior, healed the blind man today. I purposefully use the word “heal” because I want to make a distinction between healing and curing. Curing is just taking away the illness. Healing has a deeper meaning than that. Healing takes place in the interior of one’s being. Curing restore the person back to the way they were. But healing transforms him/her to become better.

The Gospel account does not tell us only the story of Jesus curing the blind man. He healed him. He did not only take away the physical blindness which imprisoned the man in darkness. Jesus took away the darkness of his soul as well. He brought to the man light – light of hope and of courage. He brought to him the true light of the world – the knowledge of knowing him – the Eternal Word made flesh and God-among-men.

And at the end of the Gospel account, the true encounter with Christ happened. The man filled with faith uttered, “‘I do believe, Lord,’ and he worshiped him.”

The man wasn’t only cured. He was healed.

There is, nonetheless, a second message which I wish to draw out from this Gospel reading.

The Gospel presented another form of blindness. The following story demonstrates it well:

Once, there was a man who dreamed of nothing but gold. He was obsessed with it. One day, he got up from his desk and ran to the marketplace.  He ran through the crowd of people to come upon the table where the man was selling gold. He swept them all into his bag and ran away. A police was standing right next to the table and he nabbed him.

He was taken to the police station where he was questioned, “I can’t understand it.” The police said. “There you are, me right next to the merchant’s table and at least one hundred witnesses, and you steal something right in front of us all!”

The man replied, “I never saw any one. I only saw gold.”

That is the second form of blindness in the Gospel today. And sadly, many of us suffer from it.

It might not be the gold or greed that makes us blind, though we can’t deny that it is the most common cause – too common. There are other factors which can cause us to be blinded. They could be ambition for high ranks and prestige. They could be hunger for power or lust. Whatever the case is, this form of blindness allows us to walk about in life without seeing a single thing. We can see where things are alright. But we are just blinded to the beauty of love and of compassion. We are just blinded from seeing others as others. We only see ourselves.

These things become our gods. We worship them. We become lost forever in the dark prison of our own blindness.  

But see, it’s not only the bad people who can be blind. Good Christians who practice religious laws can also be stuck in this form of blindness. And just like the rest of them, we often don’t realize it. We suffer from what can be called “Pharisee-itis.” After all, the Pharisees were good Jews. They practiced their faith. They observed the Sabbath. Alas, they were pitifully blinded.

They were blinded in their rigidity, in their judgmental attitude and their prejudice. This blindness caused them not to see an amazing thing happen to a poor man who was blind since birth. They only saw one thing – Jesus broke the observance of the Sabbath. They could not see the compassion of the Messiah being in their midst. They saw only a rebel who broke the law.

Don’t we, sometimes, also make the same mistake? We allow our rigidity, our prejudice, and our own narrow-minded religious understanding to blind us from seeing the beauty of God’s compassion. We choke the love of God out of those in need with our harshness. In the process, we choke ourselves too. We become the most condemning people in the world. We become anything but Christians.

We observe all the laws and the commandments. Sadly, we only overlook one, the one which matters most – the Law of love. 

"Do You Love me?" - Reflection on the Journey At John Vianney College Seminary - Part 3

“Domine, tu scis omnia, tu scis quia amo te”

– “Lord, you know everything, you know that I love you.”

This perhaps is my favorite verse from the Scriptures. I often pray with it, and I often find myself uttering it to the Lord in prayers as well. I love it because it was spoken in humility and sincerity from Peter - a man who fell from grace, betrayed his word, and denied the Lord whom he vowed never to abandon.

By the sea where Peter and his companions went to fish, the Lord came to meet them. He prepared breakfast for them. He called them over to share a meal with him.

By the charcoal fire which probably very much reminded Peter of the fire by which he uttered the denial of knowing Christ, Jesus ate with Peter. He neither asked for the reason why Peter denied him, nor did he speak of his failure at all. Christ eating breakfast with Peter demonstrated a simple fact: he had forgiven him.

After they had finished eating, Christ turned to Peter and asked, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” And Peter responded, “Lord, you know that I love you.”

Notice that Christ did not address him as “Peter,” the name that he gave him after Peter became his disciple. Christ called Peter by his birth name, Simon, and not only that, he also referred to Peter’s ancestry – son of John. For me, this fact is quite intriguing.

Jesus spoke to the very essential identity of Peter and asked from the core of his being the question which matters most to all of us, “Do you love me?”

The Greek term used for the word “love” in this verse is “philo” – the love between friends. “Philo” in this context is understood as the highest form of all relationships, deeper than that of husband and wife, of parents and children. It is the love in the friendship between God and humanity. Christ invites Peter to be in such a friendship, and he does so to all of us as well.

Throughout the course of my journey, I have heard Christ asking me the same question. “Martinô Hòang, con có mến Thầy không?” (Translate – Martin Hoang, do you love me?)

 I must admit, at first, I felt uncomfortable answering him. For in oriental culture, the term “love” is not used casually. When someone says, “I love you,” it means something quite serious. For that reason, I was afraid to answer Christ, “I do love you.” I was afraid to enter into a deeper relationship with Christ.

But as my friendship with the Lord Jesus deepens, I feel more and more comfortable and sincere to say, “Lord, you know that I love you.”

Such response however was not said once, but it is and should be repeated every single day of my life. Because as I expressed my love for Christ, what I ought to do is quite clear – “Feed and tend my sheep.” Love for Christ ought to lead me to the life of service of my brothers and sisters. This task is not always easy; hence the need to repeat such conviction of loving him over and over again.

Just like Peter who uttered his confession of love for Christ in the midst of his own imperfections, I feel myself speak these words to Christ, “Domine, tu scis omnia, tu scis quia amo te.” I say them not with boastful attitude or pride. I find myself whispering them with all sincerity and humility from a person who is well aware of his own sinfulness and limitations. I say them in the hope that Christ would use my love for him, however limited it is, to enable me to be a humble tool in his hand for the service of others – hopefully in the priesthood.

Christ’s love places no conditions or demands. However, if we are to respond to his invitation to be in friendship with him, the path which we have to undergo is quite evident – Service. Will we love him enough to accept such an invitation?

My Lord Jesus Christ,

Here I am, your most unworthy servant.

Of all my brothers, I am the least.

This, by no means, is false humility.

I know of my past;

I know what I have done;

I know how unworthy I am to be here.

And yet, by your grace, I am.

Lord, before you, my heart is exposed.

I am yet a poor sinner,

            Weak in faith

                        And wavering in determination.

All the honors the world places on me are as nothing.

Lord, I am nothing, absolutely nothing.

However of this I am sure:

            Despite my weaknesses

            I love your people.

            I love the new born child, as well as the rebellious teenager.

            I love the youngsters, as well as the aged.

            I love the healthy, as well as the sick.

Lord, I love them all, and I want to serve them.

I know I do not have much, what I do has been given to me.

I am willing to give it all for your people.

Lord, I am yet a poor sinner.

I feel like I don’t deserve to ask you anything.

I have not loved you nearly as much as I should.

Lord Jesus, I realize that I am empty, completely empty

So, fill me with what I lack.

Come!

Overtake me!

Use me as your least useful tool.

I desire to be used in your hands.

Of you I ask only one thing

“Da mihi animas, cetera tolle –

Give me souls, O Lord, the rest, take away!”

Amen.

Love Story - Reflection on the Journey at St. John Vianney Seminary - part 2

I was going through some old letters that I received since freshman year when I came across this note from Sister Dorothy Sayers, a nun from my parish. In her note for me, she wrote, “Dear Martin, may your first day in the seminary be the beginning of a love story with Jesus Christ.”

I could not have put it better to summarize what my journey at St. John Vianney was all about. It has been indeed a love story – a story of learning to love the Lord, and more importantly, learning to be loved by him. Learning to be loved by God seems to me almost as hard as learning to love him, if not to say a lot harder.

Often, it seems so easy for us to believe and tell other people that God loves them despite of their own weaknesses and sinfulness. But how hard it is for us to believe that God, too, loves us in the midst of our own imperfections. Truly it seems much easier to point at someone and say: “God loves you,” than to look in the mirror and tell ourselves that, “God loves me too.” We are our worst judge because in many ways we are aware of our sins and our less-than-perfect self, and as a result we tend to think that we do not deserve God’s love. Without knowing it, we place conditions and barriers on God’s unconditional love.

Recognizing and accepting his love is one of the lessons I strive to grasp for the last four years.

A story came to my mind, a story of a young couple who was sitting on a bench looking at the sunset. The lady turned to her boyfriend and asked, “Why do you love me? Was it because of my beauty?” The boyfriend stayed silent for a while, then said, “I cannot give you the answer now. But one day, I will show you.” The lady was rather disappointed but she said nothing. Not long after their conversation, she got into a terrible accident which left her with many scars on her face. Her, once so beautiful, appearance now troubled anyone who looked at her. She was depressed thinking that her boyfriend would abandon her.

To her surprise, he did not leave her. He was always by her side day and night. His love for her seemed stronger than ever. Could not hold her curiosity any longer, one day, she confessed, “After my accident, I thought I would lose you.” Smiling at her, the boyfriend said, “Remember a while ago you asked me why I loved you? If I said I love you just because of who you are, not your appearance, I was sure you would not believe me. But now I can prove it to you. I love you, just because of who you are.”

The love story between the Lord and me is the same.

“In finem dilexit eos” – “He loves them to the end.”

A simple and concise verse, but eloquently portrays the beauty of God’s unconditional love.

This verse was taken from the Gospel of St. John during the Last Supper. Let us picture for a moment the scene of this meal.

There Jesus sat among his friends with a heavy heart knowing that he was to enter into tremendous sufferings. He who is the model of perfection sat there to have a meal with some major characters of imperfections:

  Peter, Andrew, James and John – the first four whom he called – were hardcore fishermen who most likely were masters in the art of foul language. Peter (O, I just love him) was as impulsive as possible with a quick mouth that went much faster that his reason. James and John were extremely hot-headed and rather ambitious.

Thomas was doubtful. Philip was pretty dim witted. Simon was a rebel who probably got himself into several heated “debates” with Matthew, a tax-collector. 

There Jesus sat knowing that soon Judas would betray him, Peter would deny him three times, and the rest of his friends would abandon him. There he sat – the perfect among the imperfects. Yet “he loves them to the end.”

In each of us exist that Peter, Andrew, James, John, Thomas, Philip, Simon and Judas. In each of us exist those flaws which those disciples had within themselves.

Each of us has at least once let our anger, ambitions, ignorance, impulsiveness, and fears overtake our heart, a place which should be reserved only for Christ. Just like the disciples, we have let lesser things have a more important place than Christ himself.

 But Christ did love the disciples in their own sinfulness and imperfections, so does he love us in our own sinfulness as well.

A holy priest from the Missionaries of Charity Fathers wrote these beautiful words in his reflection I Thirst for You, “You don’t need to change to believe in My love, for it will be your belief in My love that will change you.”

It is indeed so. Christ’s love knows no boundaries. Christ’s love looks beyond the ugliness of sins and defects. Christ’s love only seeks the face of the beloved – ours. And it is in this awesome love that my formation has taken place. It is in this awesome love that I am being changed into the person He wants me to be.

What a beautiful love story of a God who looks beyond my human imperfections!

What a beautiful love story of a God who loves me, not because of anything I have accomplished, but, merely because of who I am!

“Just as the Father has loved me, so have I loved you” (Jn 15:9)

Forgetfulness

A husband and wife in their 80s were both becoming extremely forgetful. He would forget where he put his eyeglasses. Then as he went from room to room searching for them, he would forget what he was looking for. She would announce that she was going to the store for butter, but when she got there she would forget what she was shopping for.

One evening, as they watched TV, the husband stood up and the following dialogue took place:

She: Where are you going?

He: To get snacks, it’s my turn.

She: I want a hot fudge sundae. Write it down!

He: I don’t have to write it down.

She: And put nuts on it. Write it down!

He: I don’t have to write it down.

She: And whipped cream on top. Write it down!

He: I don’t have to write it down.

The husband left and, when he returned, he presented his wife with a plate of bacon and eggs.

She: Where’s the toast?

A funny story for a serious message.

From the beginning of time, one of the sins which humanity commits quite often is the sin of forgetfulness.

Yes, we can easily become forgetful of what matters most in our life. We can easily become forgetful of the love of a God who, for our sake, endured sufferings and death.

Lent is the season of remembrance. We are called to remember. Remember what?

Remember what truly matters.

“Take care and be earnestly on your guard not to forget the things which your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your memory as long as you live, but teach them to your children and to your children’s children” (Dt. 4:9).