"Promise" - A Reflection for the First Sunday of Advent, Year C

If we call the Season of Christmas a joyful celebration, then, it is most appropriate to refer to Advent as a season of hopeful anticipation. What are we anticipating? Friends, we anticipate the fulfillment of a promise. And, today’s Scriptures readings, on the very first Sunday of Advent, the Church’s New Year, reflect just that – A promise.

Listen to the first reading from the Prophet Jeremiah,

The days are coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and Judah…I will raise up for David a just shoot ; he shall do what is right and just in the land.(Jer. 33-14-15)

We do find a similar promise in the Book of Isaiah where the prophet predicted, “A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse” (Is. 11:1) – A messianic promise.

This promise God made to the Israelites has indeed been fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ who was born of the house of David and whose public ministry was accomplished, “right and just in the land.”

With the first promise fulfilled, in the Gospel, our Lord made another promise. He promised that he would return once more,

And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. But when these signs begin to happen,stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand.(Luke 21:27-28)

That is what this season is all about. While we are eager to celebration the birth of our Savior who deigned to take the form of a fragile child, born in utter poverty for our sake, we are looking forward to the return of our Lord in glory. It’s been a while since that promise was made, but, in hope, we are anticipating with certainty that Christ will fulfill his word.

Now, that’s his part, what about ours? What are we to do as we await his coming?

Christ himself warns us,

Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap.

            Indeed, friends, we ought not to let ourselves become complacent or let the troubles of life make us lose sight of this wonderful hope on which this Season of Advent is calling us to focus. Most importantly, we ought not to let our hearts become drowsy.

            Perhaps this wonderful story from the Cherokees will serve well as an illustration:

            When the plants are trees were first made, the Great Mystery gave a gift to each species. But first he set up a contest to determine which gift would be most useful to whom.

            “I want you to stay awake and keep watch over the earth for seven nights,” he told them. The young trees and plants were so excited to be entrusted with such an important job that the first night they did not find it difficult to stay awake. However, the second night was not so easy, and just before dawn a few fell asleep. One the third night the trees and plants whispered among themselves in the wind, trying to keep from dropping off, but it was too much work for some of them. Even more fell asleep on the fourth night.

            By the time the seventh night came, the one tree and plants still awake were the cedar, the pine, the spruce, the fir, the holly and the laurel. “What wonderful endurance you have,” exclaimed the Great Mystery. “You shall be given the gift of remaining green forever. You will be the guardians of the forest. Even in the seeming dead of winter, your brothers and sisters creatures will find life protected in your branches.” Ever since then all the other trees and plants lose their leaves and sleep all winter while the evergreen stay awake.

So, there it is, our message for the beginning of this Liturgical Year: Jesus Christ has left us on this earth with a promise that he would return. But, we are not here without a purpose, not without a mission. Don’t just sit in the corner of the house and await the Lord. No, we ought not to be passive because as Cardinal Newman reminds us,

God has created me to do him some definite service.

He has committed some work to me.

Which he has not committed to another.

I have my mission….

I am a link in a chain,

A bond of connection between persons.

He has not created me for naught;

I shall do good – I shall do his work;

I shall be an angel of peace,

A preacher of truth in my own place.

Friends, go out there.

Make his name known and his love felt.

Be an angel of peace and a preacher of truth.

Let the people around you know that God indeed is Emmanuel; God indeed is always with us.

Happy New Year!

"Present Moment" - A Reflection on the 33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year B

“The world is coming to an end!”

As December 21^st is rapidly approaching, we are surely going to here more of this phrase from all the prophets of doom. Some of us certainly wish to maintain that a “healthy” dose of panic is just what we need to add to all the tragedies already happening around the world. Don’t we just love it?

A bit of sarcasm certainly confirms what my stand is on this whole “the world ends on December 21^st.” Why? I have the Lord Jesus to back me up as He himself reminds us once more in the Gospel today,

"But of that day or hour, no one knows,
neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father."

Any other claim is nothing but out right presumptuous.

However, as the liturgical year of the Church is closing and we await the Season of Advent, the Church allows us to hear from Scriptures, especially in the Gospel readings, passages regarding the end of time when Christ will return to judge the living and the dead. If you have paid attention to the readings at Mass for the last two weeks or so, you would understand what I mean. And, of course, a clear example is today’s Gospel: the Lord presents quite a scene regarding his returning, echoing what the prophet Daniel wrote about the Son of Man in the Old Testament. If you want to know what it looks like, look up the image of the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo.

We might want to ask: what is the purpose behind such an intentional choice from the Church?

Is it to frighten us?

Most certainly not.

In revisiting these passages, Mother Church wishes to remind her children that there is more to this earthly life; that while living this life, we ought to keep our gaze fixed on what is to come; that our true destination is eternal happiness with God in heaven; and most importantly, how we live our calling as children of God does have an impact on the day we stand before our Lord to give him an account of our life.

All of these teachings are so countercultural. The majority of people today prefer to live as if there is no tomorrow. Many would argue that they alone get to decide how they want to live their lives and no one has the right to say otherwise. Well, in a certain aspect, it is true. Human freedom given to us is a gift so great that even God himself would not violate. God himself will not impose on us how we choose to live our lives. He never did and will never do.

We, as the people of faith, nevertheless, must keep in mind a simple fact that, although our existence is a gift from God and he will not dictate how we are supposed to live, He has made us and has entrusted us with many gifts and talents, and at the end of the day, he truly does have the right to ask what we have done with these gifts and talents.

With all of that in mind, what is the message for us as we reflect on the Scriptures reading this Sunday?

Here it is: waste not your breath trying to figure out when the world is going to end. The day will come when God sees fit.

Now, it doesn’t mean that we become complacent and unconcerned. Quite the contrary. It is because we do not know the day and the time when our Judge will come, we do have the present moment to live and, as God would wish, to make it most meaningful by filling it with love.

You have heard that at the last judgment, Christ will not ask how much you have done and accomplished; he will ask you how much you’ve loved. I am firmly convinced of this truth. What truly matters will be how much we have loved.

And, friends, we have the present moment to do just that. There are hungry people to feed, sad people to console, needy people to help, prisoners to visit, and sick people for whom to care. There is much too do. The world is so hungered for love. Live the present moment to its fullest. Make it beautiful by bringing God to those who need him. Don’t waste time worrying if the world is going to end tomorrow, a week from now, or December 21. Worry, instead, that you and I wouldn’t know what to say to the Lord when He asks us, “How much have you loved?”

"Come to Serve" - A Reflection for the 29th Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year B

Although I try to stay clear of the scholarly approach, my reflections, however, are often "homily oriented." Today, for this beautiful Gospel from St. Mark, I wish to share a much more personal reflection of one who seeks the vocation to life of service in Christ Jesus.

 “For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

To the Blessed Mother,

Mother of All the Poor and the Oppressed

To My Mother

Who from My Early Childhood

Has Infused Me with Love for the Poor

And, to All My Brothers and Sisters

Who Have No Voice,

I Will Be Your Voice.

After all,

“For You I Study, For you I Work,

 For You I live,

For You I Am Willing to Give My Life.”

St. John Bosco

These are the words of dedication that I put in my under-grad thesis at St. John Vianney College Seminary. They reflect my deepest desire to give myself to serve the Lord in the poor, the destitute, the outcast, and the vulnerable. However, just as it took James and John a long journey that ended up in many trials and suffering to learn what it meant to drink the cup that Christ drank, so it did me to recognize the meaning of my “yes” to the Lord…

As a teenager, briefly after my returning to the Church, I became very interested in the priesthood. The intention wasn’t as noble as one would expect it to be. The truth was I had been watching videos of Pope John Paul II making Cardinals. Seeing how awe-striking and impressive those Cardinals were, so, the 15 year-old Martin proudly said, “I, too, want to be a Cardinal.”

No matter how silly and ignorant that statement was, it was the start of a wonderful lesson of service the Lord had prepared for me.

I entered the seminary as the youngest in the house. Admittedly, I wasn’t the most humble seminarian there was. Not that I was obnoxiously proud. However, I enjoyed attention and sought to impress both my superiors and my peers. After all, I was only 17 and was quite still immature.

As I continue journeying on this path of Vocation, I was privileged to encounter many people from different states and statuses of life. I was assigned to several different works. It was then that I slowly found myself increasingly becoming more and more attracted towards those who were underprivileged, who were oppressed, who were poor, and most especially, those who were vulnerable and were with disabilities.

What changed?

I cannot be sure.

Perhaps, the many trials and difficulties that God has allowed me to go through was a great contributing factor. But, there ought to be more than that, it is a grace – a seed planted by the Divine in my heart.

Whatever the case is, I feel so much more connected with these folks and serving them brings me more joy than any compliments or praises I have ever received. I am most content when I am among those whom society often overlooks and neglects.

For the first time, I came to understand what St. Paul meant when he said, “I have become all things for all people, so that I may at least save some” (1 Cor. 9:22). To the homeless, I have become like one among them (as once, one of my seminarian brothers pointed out that I smelled like a homeless person after I returned from my pastoral work). To the deaf, I have become like a deaf person in seeking to learn their language and emerge into their culture. To the mentally handicapped, I have played with them and joked with them as one of them (so much so that one of them actually thought I belonged to the institution itself – is that a good thing?). To the children, I have become like a kid (ask any of my friends who have seen me working with kids).

My point here isn’t to brag.

I want to show the beauty of the life of servitude in the Name of the Lord. It wasn’t I who minister, but Jesus Christ who works through me. I wasn’t I who have done anything or made any difference in these folks’ lives. Somehow, I always feel like I received much more than I could give. There has been as much sorrow and pain as there has been joy. But, somehow, in the midst of all, it’s worth it.

It’s worth it to see the mentally handicapped residents laughed heartily after chasing me around the courtyard, calling me “silly” and “crazy.” It’s worth it to see how touched an old deaf lady was, seeing a young seminarian took the effort the sign and to reach out to her. It’s worth it to sit in the rain with some homeless folks laughing and cracking jokes.

I do receive more than I can give.

People often think so highly of seminarians. No, we are far from being perfect. Not all of us have the right intention following the Lord. Don’t be shock to find out quite a few, just like James and John, seek to glory and honor rather than learning the life of service.

But, time and again, the Lord would always find his way to remind us, as he did me, that “Those who are recognized as rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all.”

This vocation is to never a stepping-stone for career ladder, nor should it be a way to gain prestige. It has always been and will always be about service, and only in service do we find contentment.

As a 15 year-old, I was an ambitious brat for wanting to be a Cardinal. As a 23 year-old seminarian, I ought to be what the world would undoubtedly define as “lacking of ambition in every aspect of life,” for I want nothing but to remain unnoticed among the forgotten of society. Is it a bad thing? To quite a few, maybe yes. It doesn’t quite matter to me. In the end, what I and all of us who are following the Lord should keep in mind is that which He himself has said today:

“The Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

"Do something about it" Reflection for the 25th Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year B

Reading today’s Gospel carefully, we can’t help but feel quite sad for the Lord. 

Take a minute and imagine ourselves in his place. 

There he was, hoping to tell his disciples, his friends, that very shortly he would be handed over, be betrayed, would suffer, and be killed. 

And, what was his friends’ response?

Nothing.

They didn’t understand and didn’t even bother to ask what he meant. Then, just as to prove their ability to be so insensitive, they got into a debate of who would be the greatest among themselves.

Have you ever been in a somewhat similar situation where you wanted to share something so important, and yet your friends just did not seem to care?

I have to admit I so admire the Lord’s patience. If it were me who was in his shoes, trust me, I would not be nearly that gentle, no matter how good of friends they were to me. 

But, see; these guys weren’t bad people. If they were, they wouldn’t bother accompanying a guy who, in his own words, had “no place to rest his head.” No, these were very good folks; the only problem was they were so caught up within their own agenda that they missed the obvious. They missed the Lord’s reaching-out to them and his invitation for them to enter more deeply in his Father’s plan. 

Let’s not be so quick to judge them, however. Because, dear friends, we, people of this twenty first century, are doing the same thing, and are making the same mistake. 

At times in our lives, we find ourselves so caught up with our own plans that we miss Christ suffering all around us. We overlook the 925 million hungry people in our world. We overlook the five millions children died every year because of the lack of food. We overlook the countless men and women, jobless and homeless, many of whom were victims of deprivation and extortion from greedy employers. We overlook, even in our own homes, elderly parents who long for some companionship. We overlook children who are desperate to be acknowledged, loved, and cared for.

These agendas, such as that of an endless striving on the career ladders, of obtaining wealth, of ambitions, of wanting for success, are becoming the driving force of our lives. They, although in themselves, aren’t necessarily evil, without them society cannot progress, however can easily disable us from seeing what truly is happening around us.

 And so, out of sight, out of mind. 

That is until it hits us right in the face with a cosmic impact. For the disciples, it was the horrid passion Christ underwent. For us, what would it be? The loss of the loved ones we’ve inadvertently neglected? Or, the children whom we loved so much fall into crimes, drugs, or alcoholism, because we just haven’t gotten time to care? Or, God forbids, we contract some sever illness ourselves and understand for the first time what it means to be truly in pain? Or, maybe we encounter an experience like that of Kevin Carter, a South African photojournalist, in this story which I wish to share:

In 1993, Kevin Carter began snapping photos of famine victims at an UN feeding center in drought-stricken Sudan. Then, one day, seeking relief from the sight of such misery, he wandered into an open bush. There he heard a soft, high-pitched whimpering and found a tiny, frail little girl crouched, head bowed, struggling to make it to the feeding center. 

 

Carter instantly got camera ready, for here was powerful picture. He started to photograph her when dramatically, a well-fed vulture, taller by far than the child, landed a few feet behind her waiting to claim her when she died. This was a picture of a life time! Careful not to disturb the bird, Carter repositioned himself for the best picture possible. He waited for about twenty minutes for the vulture to do something like spread its wings for even a more dramatic image. I didn’t. So, after Carter took his photo, he chased the vulture away and watched as the little resume her struggle alone. 

Later in the day, when he finally got a chance to sit down and think about it all, he sat under a tree, chain-smoking, talking to God, and … crying. He thought of his small daughter Meghan and longed to hug her. The picture that Carter took appeared in the New York Times in March 1993. It proved controversial. Carter was criticized for being so absorbed in his craft that he didn’t reach out to help the little girl. In 1994, his photograph won the Pulitzer Prize.

Two months later Carter committed suicide.

Carter was not a bad, neither are we. We are merely humans who, sadly, are slaves to blind-sightedness. We fail to his Christ speaking to us of his sufferings in his lowly ones in the world today. It is not because we do not want to; we are just so much caught up in the “me” plans. For Kevin Carter a great photo shot of a life time. What about us? Well, that’s for me and you to name.

Now, from a different angle, we may be tempted to think that God will certainly provide for the poor and the oppressed. After all, they, too, are his children. And we are right. God will provide. God has provided for them, as a matter of fact; God has made you and me. 

Friends, the bottom-line message of this reflection is narrowed down to just this: notice Christ. Listen to his cry of pains and suffering in our world today. And then, to the best of our ability, do something about it.