"Joining Hands" - Reflection for the 21st Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A

My thoughts and prayers have been with the pilgrims of the World Youth Day for the last few weeks. While the Youth of the world gathered around the Holy Father in Madrid, we were having our 5 day silent retreat. All forms of communications were not permitted, and we were all in complete silence for five days. So, a bit regretfully, I was not able to follow this awesome event as I had done so with the 2 previous ones.

Ever since I found out about this great occasion called World Youth Day in 2005 (that late, I know!), I have always been amazed by the powerful impact it has on our generation of young Catholics. I was greatly moved seeing thousands upon thousands of young people gathered around our Holy Father adoring our Blessed Lord. Such incredible witness of the liveliness of the Church! All because of Him – Jesus Christ – who brings us all together.

Placing this in the context of the Gospel of this Sunday, we witnessed the beautiful and historical event in which Christ gave Peter the mission of becoming the rock upon which he would build his Church. Peter, as we are all aware, was just like us – a very flawed individual with his own sinfulness and limitations. But, in the midst of all that, Peter had great love for the Lord, and with this love, he professed his faith in Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God.

Christ called Peter, this imperfect man, to become the foundation of the Church. Moreover, he called him to carry out this mission by becoming witness to the Gospel. It is, by no means, an easy mission. To carry out this mission entrusted to him, Peter had to endure many persecutions and hardships. And like his Master, Peter, too, gave his very life for this Gospel that he was asked to proclaim.

We all are called to be witnesses to Christ and his Gospel to the world today. In our own limitations, we are called by Christ. This, as it has always been, is not without a cost. In taking upon ourselves the task of becoming disciples of Jesus Christ, we will have to pay a price.

In his fifty-six years on the planet, Adolf Hitler did incredible harm and was responsible for millions of terrible deaths. Yet in all the horror that he unleashed, there are pinpoints of light and nobility. And a German soldier, Private Joseph Schultz, was one of these pinpoints.

He was sent to Yugoslavia shortly after the invasion. Schultz was a loyal, young German soldier on patrol. One day the sergeant called out eight names, his among them. They thought they were going on a routine patrol. As they hitched up their rifles, they came over a hill, still not knowing what their mission was. There were eight Yugoslavians there, standing on the brow of the hill, five men and three women. It was only when they got about fifty feet away from them, when any marksman could shoot out an eye of a pheasant, that the soldiers realized what their mission was.

Eight soldiers were lined up. The sergeant barked out, “Ready!” and they lifted up their rifles. “Aim,” and they got their sighs. And suddenly in the silence that prevailed, there was a thud of a rifle butt against the ground. The sergeant, the seven other soldiers and those eight Yugoslavians stopped and looked. Private Joseph Schultz walked toward the Yugoslavians. His sergeant called after him and ordered him to come back, but he pretended not to hear him.

Instead he walked the fifty feet to the mound of the hill, and he joined hands with the eight Yugoslavians. There was a moment of silence, then the sergeant yelled, “Fire!” And Private Joseph Schultz died, mingling his blood with that of those innocent men and women. Found on his body was an excerpt from St. Paul: “Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It ways protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.”

Hopefully, we would never have to face such a situation. But for sure, Jesus Christ will ask us to join our hands with his. He will ask us to stand and to defend the right and the dignity of human persons from the moment of conception to natural death. He will ask us to side with the poor and the oppressed to protect and defend human equality and values. He will ask us to proclaim peace, love, and forgiveness.

This invitation will cost us. It will earn us alienations, disdain, humiliations, and even persecutions. It will cost us friendships, family, positions in society, our own security, and perhaps our own life.

But think! Shouldn’t we all have something – or rather Someone – worth fighting and standing up for?

Robert Mansfield was a white man in South Africa and the headmaster of an all white school who took his students to play cricket and hockey against the black schools. That is, until the department of education forbade him to do it anymore. So he resigned in protest. Shortly after, Emmanuel Nene, a leader in the black community, came to meet him. He said, “I’ve come to see a man who resigns his job because he doesn’t wish to obey an order that will prevent children from playing with one another.”

“I resigned because I think it is time to go out and fight everything that separates people from one another. Do I look like a knight in shining armor?”

“Yes, you look like a knight in shining armor, but you are going to get wounded. Do you know that?”

“I expect that may happen,” Mansfield replied.

“Well,” Nene said, “you expect correctly. People don’t like what you are doing, but I am thinking of joining with you in the battle.”

“You’re going to wear the shining armor, too?” Mansfield asked.

“Yes, and I’m going to get wounded, too. Not only by the government, but also by my own people as well.”

“Aren’t you worried about the wounds?”

“I don’t worry about the wounds. When I go up there, which is my intention, the Big Judge will say to me, ‘Where are your wounds?’ and if I say, ‘I haven’t any,’ he will say, ‘Was there nothing to fight for?’ I couldn’t face that question.”

“You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church.”

Each of us is a rock placed upon the Rock of Peter. What Christ asked Peter to do on that day was far beyond what he could ever imagine. What Christ asks us to do perhaps will also be far beyond what we could ever imagine.

 But, Peter loved Christ and he gave Him his best.

Should we not try to do the same?

"In whom I am well Pleased" - Reflection on God's Fatherhood Part 1

One day, I walked into a fellow seminarian’s room to find a beautiful quote posted on the door of his closet. The quote was from Dr. Seuss which said, "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." There is a ring of truth to this quote. It also speaks of the reality that we, human beings, indeed, are so often dependent on what other people say and think about us.

What is thought of and said about us are so powerful and highly influential in today’s society. We see ourselves trying to “fit in” by acting, wearing, and being in certain ways so as to meet up with expectations and avoid negative comments and judgments. At times, in trying so hard to be accepted, we turn against who we really are, and most importantly we go against who we were created to be. Many lives have been destroyed just because we don’t feel accepted. Many lives have been destroyed just because we cannot fit in.

It is sad because in trying to have the world accept us, we forget that we never have to try to do that in the first place, for we are precious in the eyes of God who is our Father, who has created us, and who has loved us from eternity. He loves us the way we are – yes, just the way we are, in our own imperfections and sinfulness.

Ah, this is so easy to say, but hard to experience for we seem to be conditioned to think that we can never to be good enough to be loved. Moreover, the concept of God as our Father is hard to comprehend, to accept, and to experience because of our own experiences of human fatherhood which are often flawed and damaged, even, at times, painful.

It is hard to experience God’s fatherhood in our broken society where the father figure, from time to time, is associated with many memories of verbal, physical, emotional, and even sexual abuses. It is hard to do so when those who are fathers have not acted like fathers, rather like an angry and demanding or completely absent figures. It is hard to see God as a father when the fathers in our lives were not the fathers that they should have been.

Hence, in our own woundedness, God remains to be an angry and harsh father whom we hope to please by striving to be good. He remains so far away, and his voice calling us his beloved becomes hard to be heard. We chase after the hope of being accepted, while there is that one who has always loved us “with an everlasting love” (Jer. 31:3).

“You are my son in whom I am well pleased” (Mark 1:11). These are the words which God the Father spoke to Jesus after his baptism. They are the words that God spoke to each of us as well, for, by virtue of our baptism, we have become ourselves “children of God” (Roman 8:16). We are, therefore, first and foremost, beloved sons and daughters of God in whom he is well pleased. And this is something that he constantly wishes us to remember – we are his beloved sons and daughters and he loves us, not as who we could have been, but as who we are. We bear in ourselves the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:27). In Christ, we have become God’s flesh and blood. We therefore are his beloved.

The challenge remaining is to accept such an unconditional love. Yes, the challenge is to let ourselves be loved by God. We must accept that we need not to be someone else other than ourselves in order to be loved, we need not to try to make others love us and accept us when we have someone - or rather, we have the One, who truly matters, love us and accept us for all eternity.

A seminary professor was vacationing with his wife in Gatlinburg, TN. One morning, they were eating breakfast at a little restaurant, hoping to enjoy a quiet, family meal. While they were waiting for their food, they noticed a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table, visiting with the guests. The professor leaned over and whispered to his wife, 'I hope he doesn't come over here.' But sure enough, the man did come over to their table.
 'Where are you folks from?' he asked in a friendly voice '
 Oklahoma,' they answered.
 'Great to have you here in Tennessee,' the stranger said. 'What do you do for a living?' 'I teach at a seminary, I replied.
 'Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I've got a really great story for you.' And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with the couple.

 The professor groaned and thought to himself, 'Great .. Just what I need .....another preacher story!'

 The man started, 'See that mountain over there? (pointing out the restaurant window). Not far from the base of that mountain, there was a boy born to an unwed mother. He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was always asked the same question, 'Hey boy, Who's your daddy?' Whether he was at school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same question, 'Who's your daddy?'

 He would hide at recess and lunch time from other students. He would avoid going in to stores because that question hurt him so bad. "When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church. He would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the question, 'Who's your daddy?' But one day, the new preacher said the benediction so fast that he got caught and had to walk out with the crowd. Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, 'Son, who's your daddy?'

 The whole church got deathly quiet. He could feel every eye in the church looking at him. Now everyone would finally know the answer to the question, 'Who's your daddy?'

'This new preacher, though, sensed the situation around him and using discernment that only the Holy Spirit could give, said the following to that scared little boy... 'Wait a minute! I know who you are! I see the family resemblance now, You are a child of God.' With that he patted the boy on his shoulder and said, 'Boy, you've got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.'

 'With that, the boy smiled for the first time in a long time and walked out the door a changed person. He was never the same again. Whenever anybody asked him, 'Who's your Daddy?' he'd just tell them, 'I'm a Child of God..''

 The distinguished gentleman got up from the table and said, 'Isn't that a great story?' The professor responded that it really was a great story!

 As the man turned to leave, he said, 'You know, if that new preacher hadn't told me that I was one of God's children, I probably never would have amounted to anything!' And he walked away.

 The seminary professor and his wife were stunned He called the waitress over & asked her, 'Do you know who that man was -- the one who just left that was sitting at our table?'

 The waitress grinned and said, 'Of course. Everybody here knows him. That's Ben Hooper. He's the governor of Tennessee.'

“No one is an orphan on earth, for God is our Father, and we are his children.” – Don Calosso

“You are my son in whom I am well pleased” (Mk 1:11)

"Hanging on" - Reflection for the 20th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A

My dear spiritual director used to tell me, “God always answers your prayers; sometimes his response is ‘yes,’ sometimes ‘no,’ and sometimes ‘wait.’” What he did not tell me is that our prayers might be met by silence, coldness, and even harshness as the Gospel tells us today.

It is rather difficult to explain Jesus’ attitude towards the poor Canaanite woman. She came to him asking for help for her little daughter who was tormented by a demon. She, a pagan woman, out of desperation, had abandoned everything to come to Jesus, a Jew, to beg for help. Yet, despite her plea, Jesus was distant and cold. The more she asked, the colder he seemed to become, even to the point of uttering such harsh words, “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” 

Jesus Christ, the Son of God – the merciful and compassionate One – and yet, he treated a woman in need with such disdain.

Such a shocking action! A hard one for us to swallow!

Ought he to have a good reason behind it?

As curious and shocking as Jesus’ antagonistic action was, it did serve well in highlighting the faith, the humility, and the perseverance of the Canaanite woman. He ignored her, she kept sticking to him as if to say, “You ain’t getting rid of me.” He said he was only sent to “the lost sheep of Israel,” she kept insisting and calling, “Lord, help me.” He compared her to dogs; she would still humbly insist, “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” Such an incredible faith she had! So profound was her humility!

 St. Augustine once said, “Faith is to believe in what you do not see, and the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.” The woman though did not seem to see Christ’s compassion, she believed in it. As the result, she received her reward of seeing that compassion healed her troubled child – “Woman, great is your faith, let it done for you as you wish.”

Today’s Gospel also reminds me of the story of Jacob wrestling with God from the Old Testament. All night until dawn he wrestled with God. As tired as he was and as painful as the blow to his hip felt, Jacob would not let go of God until He agreed to bless him. Jacob then was given a new name, Israel, which means “struggled with God” (Cf. Genesis 32:25-29).

In our journey of faith, at times it seems like our pleas to God are countered with coldness and distance. God’s silence seems to suffocate us and makes us feel like he does not care. In some instances, like the Canaanite woman, God seems to reject us and push us away.

However, like this faith-filled woman, and like Jacob of the story of old, we must not let go of God. Our perseverance and our humility will not be passed by unnoticed because, “Not for vengeance did the Lord put them in the crucible to try their hearts, nor has he done so with us. It is by way of admonition that he chastises those who are close to him” (Judith 8:27).

In being tested and challenged, as gold tried by fire, our faith and our perseverance will reach maturity and growth. And, those who put their trust in the Lord “shall never be put to shame” 

Once upon a time two grandparents were in a little shop, looking for something to give their granddaughter on her birthday. Suddenly, the grandmother saw a precious teacup. “Look at this lovely teacup, Harry. Just the thing!” Granddad picked it up, looked at it, and said, “you are right. It’s one of the nicest teacups I’ve ever seen. We must get it.” At this point the teacup startled the grandparents by saying, “Well, thank you for the compliment, but, you know, I wasn’t always so beautiful.”

The grandparents, still surprised, said, “What do you mean you weren’t always so beautiful?” “It’s true,” said the teacup. “Once I was just an ugly, soggy lump of clay. But one day a man with dirty and wet hands threw me on a wheel and started turning me around and around till I got so dizzy that I cried, ‘Stop! Stop!’ But the man with the wet hands said, ‘not yet.’ Then he started to poke me and punch me until I hurt all over. ‘Stop! Stop!’ I cried, but he said, ‘not yet.’ Finally he did stop, but then he did something worse. He put me in a furnace, and I got hotter and hotter until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I cried, ‘stop! Stop!’ But the man said, ‘not yet.’

“Finally, when I thought I was going to be burned up, the man took me out of the furnace. Then, some short lady began to paint me, and the fumes were so bad that they made me sick to my stomach. I cried, ‘Stop! Stop!’ But the lady said, ‘Not yet.” Finally she did stop and gave me back to the man again, and he put me back in that awful furnace. I cried out, ‘Stop! Stop!’ but he only said, ‘not yet.’ Finally he took me out and let me cool. And when I was cool, a very pretty lady put me on a shelf, right next to the mirror. When I looked into the mirror, I was amazed! I could not believe what I saw. I was no longer ugly, soggy, and dirty. I was beautiful and firm and clean. And I cried for joy!”

 “Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go” (William Feather). Hence, in the same manner of speaking, achieving the maturity of faith seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go.

"Tossing and Sinking" - Reflection for the 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A

The inspiration for this reflection came as I knelt in Bishop Dorsey’s private chapel praying night prayer in the midst of a violent storm outside. The weather itself seemed to reflect the sentiment of my heart. In less than two weeks, I will once more leave home for the major seminary. Yet, there is much which is weighing down my mind and burdening my heart.

Just like many people throughout the country, my family too is struggling to make it through. We labor much but still do not make enough to meet the means of life. At times, walking by my mother’s bedroom, I poked my head inside to see her tossing and turning to catch a difficult sleep while worrying about the work tomorrow. My heart was throbbed with the pain and the desire to be able to do something to help…

Listening to the thunders and the strong wind hitting on the glass windows, my mind is cast back to the night upon the sea which is the Gospel of this Sunday. It was also a stormy night. Jesus had sent his disciples to precede him to the other side as he went off to the mountain to pray. The disciples’ boat was tossed about by the strong waves and the wind was against it. Their safety was at risk, and they, too, struggle to survive.

Amid all this, Jesus came to them walking on the water. It is needless to say how terrified they must have felt seeing someone strolling on the surface of the water in the middle of a violent sea storm. The only reasonable explanation, of course, is that it was a ghost they were seeing.

But at once, Jesus attempted to calm their nerves saying, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Now the story got interesting as Peter, the master of compulsiveness, called out, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” And, the Lord allowed him to come.

Yet, as he saw how strong the wind and the waves were, Peter, who had been walking on the water toward Jesus, became overwhelmed with fear. He began to sink. Desperate and terrified, he cried, “Lord, save me!”

“Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter,” the Scriptures told us, and then came the punch line, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

The story of today’s Scriptures reflects well the stories of our life.

How often do we feel like our “boats” are being tossed about?

How often do we, like Peter, find ourselves sinking because of the demands of life, because of the struggles for survival, because of unwanted illnesses, loss of a job or an opportunity, financial crisis, family problems, personal problems, betrayals, disappointments, addictions, etc.

How often do we find ourselves desperately crying out, “Lord, save me!”

Even so, the problems just don’t seem to go away!

A week ago, I and a permanent deacon from my parish were having a conversation in the sacristy a few minutes before mass. He began by asking me a rather interesting question,

-          So how is your journey of faith?

Given it some thought, I answered,

-          Trying everyday to be a better friend for Jesus.

My answer on the surface seemed to have nothing to do with the question, but it was indeed my very honest answer, for what is the journey of faith but striving to be closer to our Lord Jesus and developing a relationship with him as a person – in my case, as a friend.

Befriending Jesus means accepting his invitation to abandon “the boat” – the only means of security – to come to him despite the raging storm. Thus, it goes without saying that befriending him also means learning to place confidence and trust in him. This task is, by no means, easy to carry out, because, just like Peter, we often let ourselves be overwhelmed with fears and anxiety as we see the strong winds. Just like Peter, we took our gaze of the Lord and began to sink.

The philosopher Blasé Pascal famously said, “The heart has its reason that reason knows not.” Trusting in the Lord and completely abandoning ourselves to his care with confidence seemingly require us to close our eyes to the perception of impossibilities by our reasoning, and listen to the voice of our hearts telling us, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10) and that “nothing is impossible for God” (Luke 1:42).

Our journey of faith, in the midst of the difficulties of life, is indeed a battle against the tossing of the winds. Moreover, our journey of faith is, in fact, a strive to listen to the voice of God speaking in the depth of our hearts – an invitation to place complete confidence in Him – not as a mere concept, but as a person, a good friend, a loving and caring God.

For once he steps into our boats, the winds will die down and the storm will eventually be subsided.

Perhaps, this little prayer should serve well as the ending of our reflection today,

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.

Amen.

 --Reinhold Niebuhr

"Little that We have" Reflection on the 18th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Lately, I have witnessed much sadness as those around me struggle to get by. Meanwhile, I remain there feeling so helpless. It is truly a feeling that you can never get used to.

In the midst of all this, St. Paul’s words echo as a timely reminder to all of us,

Brothers and sisters:
What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly
through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Moreover, the beautiful words of the Prophet Isaiah present themselves as God’s loving invitation to us who are burdened with the struggles of life,

All you who are thirsty, come to the water! You who have no money, come, receive grain and eat; Come, without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk!

He is inviting us to come to him; come to him and receive from him his consoling love. He is inviting us to allow him to wipe away our tears of sorrows. Come to him for his love is unconditional and this love will revive us. He is inviting us to come and allow him to embrace us and call us once more his beloved.

How about us? What role could we play?

The Gospel seems to offer a great answer. It is the story of the feeding of the five thousands. Now notice that Jesus would not have been able to multiply the food to feed such a large crowd had the little boy not offered the five loaves and two fish that he had. It was all that he had; he could have kept it for himself, but he offered the Lord anyway. Because of such kindness, the Blessed Lord brought about a miracle.

The Gospel reminded me of a great story a good friend of mine just sent me. It is rather long, but it is beautiful, so I decided to use it at once for the reflection of this weekend:

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father

of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.

After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning..'
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt.. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.

As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!'
Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.

By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home..

All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay' Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!' As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

Those boys at the baseball game did not have to let Shay play. The opposite team did not have to let Shay win. But they chose to do so out of kindness. They offered him a little that they had, and a miracle was brought about. They filled the heart of a young boy, who was much less fortunate, with incredible joy.

We all know of someone around us who are struggling, who are sad and burdened. So often, there is little that we could do to help. But, like the boy who offered Jesus the little that he had, or like those boys in the story told above who offered Shay a chance to be with them, we can always give something: a phone call, a visit, a conversation, a shoulder lent to cry on, a hug, and some other gestures to show that we care. These do not seem much, and, maybe, they are the only things we have to offer. But, the Lord truly could make use of them for the world hungry for love. The Lord could bring about miracles....

"What Truly Matters" Reflection on the 17th Sunday of Ordinary Time

In his book Raising Your Child to Be a Messiah, Neil Kurshan tells about the medical student who went to see a counselor about whether she should complete medical school or drop out to raise a family. The counselor suggested that she could do both with a little outside help. The student explained that she had vowed never entrust her children to a housekeeper. The counselor asked why, and the young woman explained that when she was a young child, her wealthy parents would vacation in Europe each summer and leave her with a nanny.

One year, when the girl was eleven, the housekeeper suddenly quit shortly before the parents were to leave for Europe. The parents were upset that their vacation was jeopardized, but a few days before their intended departure, they found a replacement. When the daughter noticed her mother wrapping up all the family silverware and jewels, she asked why, since it had never been done before. Her mother explained that she could not trust the new maid with the family valuables. That insensitive remark stabbed the little girl in the heart. Was she not a “family valuable” of more worth than knives and forks?

A rather challenging story for some of us to hear!

Today’s Gospel speaks of value. It speaks of a man who found a pearl of great price and was willing to sell everything that he had in order to buy it. It speaks of the fishing net that caught all kinds of fish from the sea; the fish, in turn, were sorted – the good ones were kept and the bad ones were thrown away.

On the surface, obviously the Gospel speaks of the important of one’s faith – the treasure of the Kingdom and the price of striving to possess it. However, I wish to stretch it further for I believe that it also speaks of finding the treasure, the valuable, and the essential of our life.

What then is truly important to us?

It is sad to say but we, people of today’s world, seemingly have lost the sense of knowing the value of things. We fail to realize what is truly important. And I must confess that, at times, I am, too, guilty of this.

We so very often focus all our energy and resources into pursuing things that are not that important and, thus, in turn, neglect the essential.

The world’s scale of success focuses on how much money one has, how big the house one lives in, what type of expensive car one drives, etc. Hence, who we are depends on what we have. The measure of our value depends on the amount of property we own.

Therefore, without realizing it, we joined the searchers of these false valuables.

There is nothing wrong with seeking success and wealth. We all want to be successful and a bit well-to-do. But, when our goal of becoming successful and rich turns out to be more important than our family, our loved ones, and our transcendental values, then it becomes problematic.

When property becomes more important than people, when spending time working becomes more important than spending time with our family, especially our children, when we no longer have time for God, then we have become enslaved in searching the wrong valuables.

The Gospel presents to us today a challenge. It challenges us to look into our life and to question ourselves to see how much energy we spend on that which possesses less value, instead of focusing on things and, more importantly, people that are much more important in our life.

A missionary told a story of an American family who spent years doing mission works in China. The family consisted of a mother, father and two children. When the communist took over, they were all under house arrest. One day, a soldier came in and said, “You can all return to America. But you may take only two hundred pounds with you, no more, no less.”

They had been there for years and yet only two hundred pounds to leave with? So they got the scales, and the family arguments started with the husband, wife and the two children. “Must have this vase. Must have this typewriter; it’s almost brand new. Must have these books. Must have this, must have that.” And so they weighed everything and took it off the scale. Weighed it and took it off, until, finally, right on the dot, they got to two hundred pounds.

The soldier came the next day and asked, “Ready to go?” They said yes. He said, “Did you weigh everything? They said yes. “Did you weigh your children?” “No, we didn’t.” “Weigh your children,” he said. And in the moment, off went the typewriter, off went the books, off went the vase into the trash.

The time has come to put things in perspective.

What really matters?