The Pact of the Catacombs

Shortly before the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council, 40 bishops met on the night of 16 November 1965 in the Domitilla Catacombs outside Rome.  In that holy place of Christian dead they celebrated the Eucharist and signed a document that expressed their personal commitments to the ideals of the Council under the suggestive title of the "Pact of the Catacombs". It also goes by the title "Pact of the Servant and Poor Church". Among the bishops gathered was Dom Helder Camara, Archbishop of Recife, Brazil and icon of justice and freedom in Latin America. The statements' counter-cultural ideals and latent radicalism however might have limited its impact to only a dedicated few. Yet in the ensuing years, the little pact of minority bishops gradually caught fire, inspiring the rise of liberation theology, the orthodoxy of the Church of the poor, and the praxis of building basic ecclesial communities as agents of Gospel-based change in individuals and society in many parts of the world and beyond Catholic circles.

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We, bishops assembled in the Second Vatican Council, are conscious of the deficiencies of our lifestyle in terms of evangelical poverty. Motivated by one another in an initiative in which each of us has tried avoid ambition and presumption, we unite with all our brothers in the episcopacy and rely above all on the grace and strength of Our Lord Jesus Christ and on the prayer of the faithful and the priests in our respective dioceses. Placing ourselves in thought and in prayer before the Trinity, the Church of Christ, and all the priests and faithful of our dioceses, with humility and awareness of our weakness, but also with all the determination and all the strength that God desires to grant us by his grace, we commit ourselves to the following:

1.      We will try to live according to the ordinary manner of our people in all that concerns housing, food, means of transport, and related matters. See Matthew 5,3; 6,33ff; 8,20.

2.      We renounce forever the appearance and the substance of wealth, especially in clothing (rich vestments, loud colors) and symbols made of precious metals (these signs should certainly be evangelical). See Mark 6,9; Matthew 10,9-10; Acts 3.6 (Neither silver nor gold).

3.      We will not possess in our own names any properties or other goods, nor will we have bank accounts or the like. If it is necessary to possess something, we will place everything in the name of the diocese or of social or charitable works. See Matthew 6,19-21; Luke 12,33-34.

4.      As far as possible we will entrust the financial and material running of our diocese to a commission of competent lay persons who are aware of their apostolic role, so that we can be less administrators and more pastors and apostles. See Matthew 10,8; Acts 6,1-7.

5.      We do not want to be addressed verbally or in writing with names and titles that express prominence and power (such as Eminence, Excellency, Lordship). We prefer to be called by the evangelical name of "Father." See Matthew 20,25-28; 23,6-11; John 13,12-15).

6.      In our communications and social relations we will avoid everything that may appear as a concession of privilege, prominence, or even preference to the wealthy and the powerful (for example, in religious services or by way of banquet invitations offered or accepted). See Luke 13,12-14; 1 Corinthians 9,14-19.

7.      Likewise we will avoid favoring or fostering the vanity of anyone at the moment of seeking or acknowledging aid or for any other reason. We will invite our faithful to consider their donations as a normal way of participating in worship, in the apostolate, and in social action. See Matthew 6,2-4; Luke 15,9-13; 2 Corinthians 12,4.

8.      We will give whatever is needed in terms of our time, our reflection, our heart, our means, etc., to the apostolic and pastoral service of workers and labor groups and to those who are economically weak and disadvantaged, without allowing that to detract from the welfare of other persons or groups of the diocese. We will support lay people, religious, deacons, and priests whom the Lord calls to evangelize the poor and the workers by sharing their lives and their labors. See Luke 4,18-19; Mark 6,4; Matthew 11,4-5; Acts 18,3-4; 20,33-35; 1 Corinthians 4,12; 9,1-27.

9.      Conscious of the requirements of justice and charity and of their mutual relatedness, we will seek to transform our works of welfare into social works based on charity and justice, so that they take all persons into account, as a humble service to the responsible public agencies. See Matthew 25,31-46; Luke 13,12-14; 13,33-34.

10.  We will do everything possible so that those responsible for our governments and our public services establish and enforce the laws, social structures, and institutions that are necessary for justice, equality, and the integral, harmonious development of the whole person and of all persons, and thus for the advent of a new social order, worthy of the children of God. See Acts 2,44-45; 4;32-35; 5,4; 2 Corinthians 8 and 9; 1 Timothy 5,16.

11.  Since the collegiality of the bishops finds its supreme evangelical realization in jointly serving the two-thirds of humanity who live in physical, cultural, and moral misery, we commit ourselves: a) to support as far as possible the most urgent projects of the episcopacies of the poor nations; and b) to request jointly, at the level of international organisms, the adoption of economic and cultural structures which, instead of producing poor nations in an ever richer world, make it possible for the poor majorities to free themselves from their wretchedness. We will do all this even as we bear witness to the gospel, after the example of Pope Paul VI at the United Nations.

12.  We commit ourselves to sharing our lives in pastoral charity with our brothers and sisters in Christ, priests, religious, and laity, so that our ministry constitutes a true service. Accordingly, we will make an effort to "review our lives" with them; we will seek collaborators in ministry so that we can be animators according to the Spirit rather than dominators according to the world; we will try be make ourselves as humanly present and welcoming as possible; and we will show ourselves to be open to all, no matter what their beliefs. See Mark 8,34-35; Acts 6,1-7; 1 Timothy 3,8-10.

13.  When we return to our dioceses, we will make these resolutions known to our diocesan priests and ask them to assist us with their comprehension, their collaboration, and their prayers.

May God help us to be faithful.

 

The last shall be first

This much I know – the last shall be first,

the angry ones need love the most,

and the bigot, to be heard and understood

Share joy with the joyful,

be there for the sorrowful,

and sometimes just let the lost be

The helper first needs to learn

the poor already want to help themselves,

and victims wish they could but couldn’t

That there is no single rule,

no silver bullet, no theory of everything;

only one way, certain and narrow

A Tale of Two Feasts

Homily for the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God

1 January, New Year's Day

There are actually two feasts that we celebrate today: one is secular – New Year’s Day, and the other, sacred – the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God. As our thoughts and wishes turn towards better prospects for the new year, the liturgy turns our prayer and reflection towards the humble figure of the young mother Mary.

Media organizations usher in the new year with a recap of the previous year’s big events and predictions for the new one. Individuals write resolutions to start doing better things and stop doing bad ones. For most people there is more to January 1 than just being a human construct that tracks the passing of time. It is by most accounts a milestone, the start of yet another period laden with possibilities – of reforms to undertake, giants to slay, and life-altering decisions to make. And then the Church wants us to start the year with Mary.

Far from being yet another face-off in the culture wars between the sacred and the secular, the melding of these two feasts may actually be providential, a "happy concurrence" according to Pope Paul VI in his exhortation Marialis Cultus in 1974. This particular Marian feast springs from the affirmation that Jesus Christ is both true God and true man. Thus, it is only logical that Mary be called Theotokos (literally “God bearer”) in Greek, and Dei genetrix (“she who gave birth to God”) in Latin. In her womb, the mystery of the Incarnation first happened – God intervening in human affairs in the most dumbfounding way: by becoming one like us in all things but sin. The Incarnation is the ultimate melding of the sacred and the secular.

As we sit down for our annual ritual of making plans and writing down resolutions, we remember that God Himself set-out to accomplish a big plan which sought no less than the salvation of humanity. To accomplish such an enormous undertaking, His preparation spanned centuries and enlisted the help of prophets and priests, judges and kings. But at the final hour when everything was about to be brought to completion, He turned not to the high and mighty of the time but to a young girl in an obscure village in the outskirts of a sprawling empire, and made her decision to accept His offer a turning point in world history.

It was not at all far-fetched that the Chosen People would expect a Messiah who would come with political savvy and military might, conquering their known enemies and restoring their exalted place among the nations. After all they have been taught for generations that their savior would descend from the proud lineage of King David. Yet in choosing to save the world, God did not choose the way of the wise, the rich, and the mighty. Instead, He chose poor and simple folks to bear His Son, the most squalid condition for His birthplace, and one of the most dangerous times for His birth date.

This lesson is also found in the best modern-day allegory of the Good News. I am referring to the Lord of the Rings novels by J.R.R. Tolkien, including the recently concluded film trilogy, the Hobbit. Among the major characters in the series were the wizards Gandalf the Grey and Saruman the White. 

Wizards in Tolkien’s novels were not really humans who know how to conjure magic tricks, they were more like angels sent to set things right for the inhabitants of Middle-Earth and to protect them from evil. Both of them started with wanting to protect Middle-Earth from the evil Sauron but they differed in their ways. Saruman wanted to use whatever force there is, including the very tools of the enemy, to fight against evil. Gandalf, on the other hand, believed less in confronting brute force with brute force, and more in building peoples’ capacity for goodness, even among those perceived to be the weakest among them.

Along the way, Saruman would be corrupted by power, co-opted by Sauron, and eventually destroyed. Gandalf followed a more tortuous yet victorious route, rallying the forces of good amidst their respective self-doubts and petty concerns into great feats of heroism and self-sacrifice. In the end, the combined forces of men, elves, and dwarves won not because they have the bigger army or the more fearsome soldiers but because of the self-giving and determination of two simple hobbits: Frodo and Sam.

In one memorable line from the Hobbit movie, Gandalf said: “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found.  It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay.  Small acts of kindness and love.”

And so today, the first day of the year, we turn our thoughts towards Mary and remember how simple acts of kindness and love can be transformed by God into events that change the face of the earth. Our poverty and limit experiences were never meant to stop us from succeeding in life or, more importantly, from spreading goodness, mercy and compassion. Rather, as the Gospel story and our own life stories would attest, God sometimes makes use of our poverty and limit experiences as enablers to growth in wisdom and grace.  

This bit of sacred insight is meant to kickstart our secular year so that we can let God turn our human affairs – from the loftiest to the most mundane – into rays of light that dispel the darkness in our lives and in those of the people we meet.

May the inspiration of the Blessed Mary Mother of God lead us to living a blessed new year and building a brighter future for all.

Prophets of a Future Not Our Own

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.

No prayer fully expresses our faith.

No confession brings perfection.

No pastoral visit brings wholeness.

No program accomplishes the Church's mission.

No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.

We plant the seeds that one day will grow.

We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.

We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.

The Archbishop Oscar Romero Prayer: A Step Along the Way

by Bishop Ken Untener of Saginaw 

This prayer was composed by Bishop Ken Untener of Saginaw, drafted for a homily by Card. John Dearden in Nov. 1979 for a celebration of departed priests. As a reflection on the anniversary of the martyrdom of Bishop Romero, Bishop Untener included in a reflection book a passage titled "The mystery of the Romero Prayer." The mystery is that the words of the prayer are attributed to Oscar Romero, but they were never spoken by him.

In All Things Give Thanks

HOMILY

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time - C

Readings: 2 Kgs 5:14-17; Ps 98:1,2-3,3-4; 2 Tim 2:8-13; Lk 17:11-19

The Gospel passage this Sunday is about Jesus healing ten lepers and how only one went back to Him to give thanks. This prompted Jesus to observe: "Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?" 

It has parallels with another healing-from-leprosy story in the First Reading. The Syrian general Naaman sought Elisha the prophet, and upon the latter's instruction, he plunged into the Jordan River seven times and was healed.

If faith is two-fold - God's gift and man's response - then the stories from the First and Gospel Readings imply that gratitude is the first step we take in our faith response. What is this virtue about, and what role does it play in our relationship with God? To answer these questions, I would like to propose that we look at gratitude on three levels.

First, there is a polite gratitude. It is the kind expected by convention and taught by parents to their children. It is borne out of an appreciation for a kindness done, a small gesture of acknowledgment for a good deed. Many of us say "thank you" out of habit, whether it be for those who have done us a favor, or delivered a service paid for. People who tend to forget to say their thank yous are thought of as snobs.

Gratitude in this level functions as a positive reinforcement to encourage good behavior. This may be one of those values that makes interaction within society smoother, a starting point for the habit of being concerned for others. But this is not yet the spirit of gratitude prescribed by the Gospel.

Then there is a humble gratitude, a deeper level of thanksgiving whereby our reflection of a kindness done leads to a realization of the limits of our capacities and merits. We can neither survive nor attain success by ourselves alone. We need others to help us. Indeed our life so far has been sustained by the kindness of family, friends, and even strangers. And we are humbled by this insight even as we are led to see something more.

The humility of Naaman the Syrian and the one Samaritan out of the ten healed lepers helped them see the hand of God moving in their lives. In contrast, the Israelites, perhaps out of a sense of exclusive entitlement to God's grace, failed to recognize the great presence of God happening right before their eyes, both in the times of Elisha and of Jesus.

The poet John Milton writes: "Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world." Ever so humbly, just before Communion, we utter the words: "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and I shall be healed".

Finally, there is an inspired gratitude. Just like faith that cannot remain merely as an enlightened mind or a trustful heart, gratitude at its deepest level cannot but express itself in generosity and seek to bear fruit. It is inspired in the sense that our recognition of a "debt of gratitude" breathes into us a spirit that seeks to repay the debt, or better yet, pay it forward. Thus, kindness begets kindness, love begets love.

It is the kind of gratitude that makes St. Paul testify as in the Second Reading: "Therefore, I bear with everything for the sake of those who are chosen, so that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus" (2 Tim 2:10). That he has been loved, forgiven, and chosen, made St. Paul all the more inspired to preach the Good News of salvation even in the midst of difficulties and persecution.

This is what being grateful does to us: it enables us to see God's grace working in our life, helps us acquire a more balanced and grounded view of ourselves, and moves us to play our part in God's greater scheme of things.

St. Paul teaches us: “In all things give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thess 5:18). Thus, we pray that we be able to see clearly the things we need to thank God for.  And in doing so, let us not just utter polite appreciation, but approach Him in humble worship, and seek to love others just as He has loved us.

A Lesson in Humility

HOMILY

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time – C – 1 September 2013

Readings: Sir 3,17-18,20,28-29; Ps 68,4-5,6-7,10-11; Heb 12,18-19,22-24a; Mt 11,29ab

Our First Reading this Sunday from the Book of Sirach begins with these words: “My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.” In the Gospel reading, Jesus used the occasion of a banquet and the way guests were behaving, choosing for themselves places of honor at the table, to drive home a lesson in humility.

What does it mean to be humble, and how important is this virtue in Christian life?

1. To be humble means to keep ourselves grounded.

The root of the word comes from the Latin humus, which means soil. What the virtue of humility develops in us is how to keep our feet firmly on the ground, that is how to be secure in our self-identity and authentic in our self-expressions. 

My professor in moral theology, Fr. James Keenan, SJ, in his book "Virtues for Ordinary Christians", defines it this way: “Humility acknowledges the truth about oneself; it is not about lying or denial, but rather about the ability to determine whether what others say about oneself is true or not. As a matter of virtue, humility is the mean between two vices. Humility is found between pride, where one thinks oneself greater than one really is, and self-pity, where one thinks oneself worse.”

When Jesus cautioned his audience about reserving for themselves places of honor at the banquet table, he was not merely taking about table etiquette. He was talking about staying grounded, keeping it real, not thinking too highly about oneself. C.S. Lewis famously stated: “True humility is not thinking less of yourself, it is thinking of yourself less.”

Today, we may think most of us have already come to accept this practical advice. Some have even mastered the practice. Public figures, especially, would want to show that they are in solidarity with the masses. Coming from humble origins and rising from the ranks has become a badge of honor. People reward with approval those who visit and support orphanages and homes for the aged, those who are respectful and humble in their use of words, and appreciate those who use self-depreciating humor.

However, we also have to be wary about mistaking mere political correctness or good PR for true humility. For even now, society has its own “places of honor”: the discreet yet distinctive power table at parties, VIP rooms, and exclusive enclaves. These may also manifest even in our choice of conversations or company that excludes certain people in our workplaces, schools, and communities.

2. To be humble is the first step in walking with God.

Micah 6:8 reminds us what the Lord requires of us: to do justice, to love goodness, and to walk humbly with God. Before we can talk about committing to righteousness and justice, the first disposition a disciple needs to learn is humility – which means accepting first the truth of ourselves: our giftedness and weakness, our strengths and inadequacies.

The great Greek philosopher Socrates would usually initiate his new students into his teaching style by asking them to define something, and then keep asking them more probing questions until they finally say they really don’t know at all. Then he would say, now we can begin learning for “true wisdom is in knowing that you don’t know.”

In Mt 9,13, Jesus says: “I did not come to call the righteous but sinners”. Who are the righteous? They are the ones who feel self-satisfied with their moral and spiritual state, and feel no more need for conversion. Now, who are the sinners? They are the ones who recognize their faults and failures, and acknowledge their sinfulness. In the same verse, Jesus also says: “It is mercy I desire and not sacrifice.” Between the two, who is most receptive to the grace that Jesus offers? The humble sinner recognizes his need for God’s mercy, while the self-righteous feels secure in the merits of his own sacrifice.

3. To be humble is to be exalted.

Jesus teaches us in the Gospel reading today that “every one who exalts himself will be humbled,
but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” The First Reading also has this to say: “Humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God.”

To understand these statements, it may be helpful to look at an example of how to fall from God’s favor. But first I have to ask: “What do you think was the first sin committed in all of creation?” The answer: it is not the sin of Adam and Eve, rather it is that of their tempter – the sin of pride. Satan, the deceiver, started as an angel, and one of the more favored ones too. His name, Lucifer, means “bearer of light”. But he became so full of himself, and too proud to serve humanity in God’s behalf, that when given a choice he decided to choose himself over God’s will. And so he has fallen from grace, and has made it his mission since then to lure humanity into thinking they have no need of God’s grace as well.

That is why, when Jesus came to save us, He chose the way that is most opposite to pride: humility. The Letter to the Philippians (2,6-9) sums up profoundly this way of heroic humility: “Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him.”

Why do we need to practice humility? Because as Christians, we follow the way of Christ, and His way begins with first possessing humility. To love and serve humbly is to be exalted by God, for by doing so, we reflect the light of Christ to others, we become witnesses to the kind of life God has prepared for His people – authentic and free, and meaningfully happy. To be exalted is to be able to let others see God’s love and joy through us.

Pork and the Narrow Gate

HOMILY
21st Sunday in Ordinary Time – C – 25 August 2013

Readings: Is 66:18-21; Ps. 117:1, 2; Heb 12:5-7.11-13; Lk 13:22-30

What does our faith tell us about pork? We are not referring to the meat, but to what’s hot right now in Philippine politics, which is the pork barrel scam. Not much, at least directly. However, our readings this Sunday speak precisely against the kind of corruption exhibited by the pork barrel as an institution and the outrageous lengths that it has been abused.

Ostensibly, the fund is supposed to promote development: deliver services to the poor, construct and maintain needed infrastructure, support education and healthcare, etc. That is why in its present form it is called PDAF (Priority Development Assistance Fund). However, it is designed from the start to promote the politics of patronage. The president decides which lawmakers get the fund and how much, and lawmakers influence how projects are implemented and which contractors get projects, all the while using taxpayers' money in order to maintain a flawed system of political dependency and loyalty. And then comes evidence of ghost projects which are non-existent projects funded by the pork barrel of senators and congress representatives. Where do the funds go? Where else but to lawmakers who allowed their PDAF to be used that way, to professional swindlers, and other parties involved in the whole operation.

In a recent press conference, Cardinal Chito was moved to tears when referring to the scam. He lamented that it was supposed to be money spent for the poor, but stolen from them by people who have lost the sense of the poor’s suffering.

As we work for genuine progress and development in this country, we are reminded that the path (daang matuwid) leading to it must pass through the narrow gate. What is this narrow gate?

This refers to Lk 13,24 which says: “"Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.” Now, what does it mean to enter through the narrow gate? I would like to propose two senses.

1. We remember that following God means following His Way, not our way.

We don't ask God to conform to us, it is us who have to conform to God. We need to recognize that following God’s will is following His best-laid plan for us as individuals and as a people. When we turn away from it, we set ourselves on a road to destruction. 

In 1996, the Rev. Joe Wright led this opening prayer at the Kansas House of Congress: “Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done.

We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem.
We have abused power and called it politics.
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment...”

His opening prayer made a stir in Congress that day. One legislator walked out, and some criticized the pastor. But when the media aired the story, the response from the public, including those from other countries, was overwhelmingly supportive of Reverend Wright.

Entering through the narrow gate means it is our values that need to adjust, not the reality of what is truly right and just. It means divesting ourselves of our burdens of personal convenience, self-interest, and prejudices, since they hold us back from passing through the gate. After all, it is God’s will that we seek, not our will; it is God’s way that we strive to follow, not our way.

2. We relearn the values of discipline and commitment.

Heb 12,11 says: "At the time, all discipline seems a cause not for joy but for pain, yet later it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it."

Can you imagine parents not teaching their kids discipline and expect them to succeed later in life? Can you imagine a teacher advising students that in order to graduate all they have to do is just browse through their books and attend classes only when they feel like it? Can you imagine a music teacher telling his young ward that the surefire way to becoming a great concert artist is simply to love music and practice only when he is in the mood? Can you imagine a coach devising a plan to win championships that does not involve his players' commitment to regular practice sessions and taking care of their health? They are hard to imagine and simply ridiculous.

Can you imagine being elected as a public servant and not exercising the disciplines of integrity and putting the people’s interest first before that of the self, one’s family, and party? Unfortunately, we can, and the pork barrel scam tells us it has been happening for decades.

Now can you imagine yourself as a citizen, and being party as well to this web of corruption? Unfortunately, we also can, either by resigned acceptance of corruption as a way of life, or by actual collusion. Even as we decry the pork barrel itself and its abuses, let us also discern how we too, as individuals and as a Church, may have enabled the culture of corruption and patronage politics. In a way, a Church protesting against the pork barrel is like holding a mirror to ourselves and asking if we too in the Church could pass the test of integrity using current standards of transparency and accountability. It is also a call to action for reforms in this regard within the Church as an institution.

If discipline is important in parenting, education, arts, and sports, why not in citizenship, and why not in our life of faith as well? Yet today we hear of so many people resisting the discipline of faith, interpreting Scriptures according to their needs, and following only Church teachings that best fit their lifestyle. And then they’ll say: “Why be so hard on yourself? After all, God is love.”

Remember Heb 12,6: "for whom the Lord loves, he disciplines". And then Mt 7,21 says: "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” Not everyone who invokes “God is love” will be able to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Our Gospel this Sunday is a timely reminder of just what we need to do to enter the Kingdom, and help build It on earth through inclusive growth and genuine development for our people. Passing through the narrow gate is the test that determines whether our personal, ecclesial, and national striving are truly in the right path (daang matuwid). The choice before us may not be simple, but it is clear: pass through the narrow gate, or wait until we find ourselves forever barred from entering it.

My Public Narrative

"I will give you shepherds after my own heart" (Jer 3,15).

The Story of I.  The calling to the priesthood came to me, I think, already during childhood. I practically grew up breathing Catholic – my parents taught me the basic prayers, we went to Church on Sundays as a family, I went to Catholic schools from kindergarten to graduate school. We were not rich or even lower middle-class, my father just had a high regard for Catholic education, and he struggled to send all of his four children to Catholic schools.

My initial motivations then were the high regard our large extended family accorded to priests and the way he commanded attention from everyone at Mass on Sundays. A wizened spiritual director in later years would tell us, we all start with impure motivations – the important thing is how we let grace purify our hearts in the end.

It came as no surprise to almost everybody who knew me then when I entered the seminary at the age of 12, a series of institutions that would be my home for the next 13 years, excluding two years off after college. To tell the story of those years would take much time, and so I would gloss over the adventures and experiences, the lessons learned and friendships bonded, by describing seminary formation as integral, that is, it is focused on developing well-rounded persons (or at least, our formators tried to do so). To put it simply, it is designed to make us first connect with our true selves, so we can have a meaningful relationship with God as a person, and also with the realities of society and the Church. To put it with even greater simplicity, formation was about getting us fall in love.

The Jesuit Pedro Arrupe said it most succinctly: “Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love and it will decide everything.”

The Story of Us. As celibates, it is most important that we don’t lose our romanticism. And so I fell in love with God and His people, this “living, pulsing, sinning people of God”. Why? To use the words of another Jesuit, Walter Burghardt, because: “For all the Catholic hate, I experience here a community of love. For all the institutional idiocy, I find here a tradition of reason. For all the individual repressions, I breathe here an air of freedom. For all the fear of sex, I discover here the redemption of my body.  In an age so inhuman, I touch here the tears of compassion. In a world so grim and humorless, I share here rich joy and laughter. In the midst of death I hear here an incomparable stress on life. For all the apparent absence of God, I sense here the real presence of Christ."

I was doing my studies in theology while the clergy sexual abuse crisis in the West raged on. Like many people, my generation of seminarians asked how those Church leaders involved were able to live with themselves knowing that they let those abuses happen, and chose to protect the Church as an institution first before the little ones who consider the Church a home. In this country at that time, we were dismayed by the way some of our bishops allowed themselves to be co-opted and corrupted by a widely mistrusted political leadership.

Yet when we went to our apostolate areas, to the slums of the city where the urban poor lived, we saw the faces of the great Body of Christ and experienced how relevant the faith and the faith-community meant to them. When I got back to my provincial diocese, I was struck by the dedication and humble service of so many fellow priests and lay leaders, kindred spirits – many of them committed, hardworking, and palpably holy.

I am not saying these things as a way to differentiate the good and the bad within the Church, much less to set myself apart. For even in the most well-intentioned priest or lay faithful among us, the seeds of hypocrisy and clericalism can grow, the corruption of pride and entitlement can happen. I feel a close affinity to Pope Francis' description of himself as "a sinner on whom the Lord has turned His gaze".

The Story of Now. Today, under the pastoral leadership and witness of this same Pope, I sense the Spirit of hope breathing much needed change throughout the Church. Yet there is much work to be done. And it is not about redeeming an institution or making faith more relevant. These are not our unique value propositions. It is about doing our perennial mission, the one given to the Church as a gift, which is also a task: preaching the Good News of salvation. It is communicating to the world the powerful message that there is a God who loves them, and that this love is especially directed to the last, the least, and the lost. And the manner of delivery is two-fold, best summed-up by a master communicator during his time, St. Francis of Assisi: “At all times preach the Gospel, sometimes with words.”

It is for this purpose that I came to AIM, to study Development Management in order to learn new tools of the trade and apply them to ministry. I like to think of what I'm doing as getting involved in the great and noble project of developing further the technology of evangelization. A priest-friend once told me sagely, “When you introduce something new, your community may either see you as an innovator or an anomaly. If you are seen as an innovator, it means they accept the change that you bring; if you are regarded as an anomaly, brace yourself for some challenging times ahead.”

I’m not sure whether I would like to be branded as an innovator, much less an anomaly. I don’t want to be tagged as a reformer or a technocrat either. Like most priests, I just want to witness to a life of faithful service. It may just happen that sometimes such a witnessing may take the form of introducing technology and innovation, or advocating for greater lay participation in Church leadership, more transparency in finances, and a stronger sense of accountability.

Another wise and holy man of this age, Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI, in his book, Secularity and the Gospel, wrote about what the Church (and the world) needs today: “We are not lacking for solid ideas. What we are lacking however, is fire, romance, aesthetics, as these pertain to our faith and ecclesial lives. What needs to be inflamed today inside religion is its romantic imagination. Solid ideas and solid programs alone are not enough. We need someone to re-inflame the romantic imagination of Christianity, a new Francis, a new Clare, a new Augustine, a new Thomas More, a new Ignatius, a new Therese of Lisieux.”

I’m not talking about me now. This call is about you. In fact, this is about everyone of us. Maybe some of you are being called to the priesthood, or to the religious life. Maybe some of you are called to the great vocation of parenthood, which is about reflecting God’s love to your children. Maybe you are called to bring Christ’s presence to your office or place of business, Christ’s wisdom to your boardroom or classroom, Christ’s care to the ER or to the grassroots. Maybe you are called to win the marketplace for Christ. Whatever calling you feel will bring a deeper meaning and profound joy to your life – will you let the Spirit inflame you with His romantic imagination, so through you and each one of us, the world may also catch the fire of God’s love?

...

This is originally written as a requirement for the Bridging Leadership class for the Master in Development Management 2013 course at Asian Institute of Management - Center for Development Management (AIM-CDM), Makati City. I may also use this as a testimony in the context of a small faith community or for an audience of seekers, discerning whether they are called to the priesthood, the religious life, or lay ministry within the Church.

The Worldly Christian

HOMILY
18th Sunday in Ordinary Time – C – 4 August 2013

Readings: Ecc 1:2, 2:21-23; Ps 90:3-4,5-6,12-13,14,17; Col 3:1-5.9-11; Lk12:13-21


The Gospel reading this Sunday opens with a man from the crowd asking Jesus to mediate between him and his brother on the sharing of family property. It was customary for rabbis to be called upon to mediate disputes, but Jesus used the request to drive home a lesson on dealing with worldly riches.  It is also the theme of the other two readings this Sunday. I would like to sum up their message in three points:

1. We should not make riches our master.

This seems straightforward and sensible enough. St. Ignatius of Loyola in his Spiritual Exercises speaks of a choice we need to make: whether to follow the standard of Christ or the standard of Satan. And he cautions against taking the lure of Satan lightly for that is what makes him all the more effective. After all, the word Satan means the “deceiver”.

A few weeks ago, Pope Francis said that it saddens him to see priests and religious use expensive cars and the latest gadgets, when the money could have been used for better purposes such as helping the poor. Many people – within and without the Church – resonated with the Pope’s call to simplicity, and prompted a good amount of discernment on many of us priests.

Worse, when we let ourselves be deceived, we cause harm to others. Cardinal Chito Tagle, in his speech during the International Congress on the Eucharist in Quebec, Canada, in 2008, says that people who have exchanged the true God for idols like profit, prestige, pleasure, and control, also dedicate their lives to them – and sacrifice others to sustain the worship of their false gods. He asks: “How many factory workers are being denied the right wages for the god of profit? How many women are being sacrificed to the god of domination? How many children are being sacrificed to the god of lust? How many trees, rivers, hills are being sacrificed to the god of ‘progress’? How many poor people are being sacrificed to the god of greed? How many defenseless people are being sacrificed to the god of national security?”

Qoheleth the wise (in the First Reading) says: “Vanity of vanities!” All our toil is pointless. When our lives are mainly centered on working or gaining profit, ironically our toil is reduced to pointless vanity. This is not how God meant us to live.

2. We do not view riches as inherently evil either.


The readings this Sunday don’t say that it is wrong to acquire material possessions or dream of improving our lot. But haven’t we heard it said many times that money is the root of all evil? The text comes from 1 Tim 6,10, which actually says: “The love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains.”

It is not riches in themselves that bring people to ruin. It is the inordinate attachment to them. How do we make the distinction between a healthy regard for riches and an inordinate attachment to them? St. Ignatius has a helpful phrase we can remember: “tantum quantum”. A simple translation would be “whatever helps”. He says our purpose in life is to worship and serve God and by doing so find our salvation. All other things in the world are created and made available to us in order to achieve this purpose. Thus, concerning material wealth and such other things as knowledge or good health, for as long as they bring us closer to God, we use them. If they don’t, then their usage becomes obstacles to achieving our true purpose.

3. Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.

The point comes from Christ’s reminder in Mt. 6,19: "store up treasures in heavens, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal".  The message is related to this Sunday’s parable about the rich man who thinks he can simply hoard all his harvest in a bigger barn and live the life he wanted (eat, drink, and be merry), and why Jesus calls him a fool.

The Fathers of the Church have generally interpreted this parable to mean our social obligation not to abandon the poor and the needy. Their position is well summed up by Venerable Bede: “The reason the Lord reproved the man who tore down his barns in order to build bigger ones was not that he cultivated the earth and collected its fruits into his barns, but that he did not divide with the poor what went beyond his needs–in which case he wouldn’t need larger barns–but instead built larger barns in which to keep them for himself.”

And don’t think the message is only for the materially rich. One can be poor and be inordinately attached to money. Another extreme that a Christian needs to avoid is romanticizing poverty. Renowned lay preacher Bo Sanchez narrates his conversion from this particular point of view in his book “8 Secrets of the Truly Rich”. He said an incident has become chiseled in his memory, and he was never the same again after it happened.

After one prayer meeting, a woman with her small daughter approached him and asked, “Bo, can you pray over me?” “Of course”, he smiled, “what can I pray for?” “Tomorrow is the last day for my daughter’s enrollment and I have no money…” She quietly sobbed, clutching her daughter to her waist. She explained that she’s been praying to God but it seems as though nothing was happening. “Bo, please pray over me that God will increase my faith.”

He became curious. “How much money do you need exactly?”, he asked. “P700”, she said. “P700? P700 only?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “It’s a monthly instalment thing”, she explained. At that precise moment, he wanted to pull out his wallet and give her the 700 bucks. He wanted to say, “Look sister, I don’t have to pray over you. Here’s the money and go home!” But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to. Because as he stood there in front of her, he knew that he only had P20 in his wallet. P20!

So what did he do? He prayed over her. After he laid his hands over her, she thanked him and bid farewell. He said: “Believe me, I’ve done a lot of difficult things in my life. But one of the most difficult was watching this lady and her daughter walk out of the room empty-handed.”

When they disappeared through the door, he sat down on a chair and felt a deep pain inside. A prayer formed in his heart: “Lord I don’t want his to ever happen again. Oh, to have money to help others! Help me help them.”


Fast forward a few years later. Bo Sanchez now earns enough to send a few children to school. And he says the feeling is incredible. 

Material wealth, physical beauty, good health – all these things pass away, some even before we reach the grave. The beauty about storing treasures in heaven is that it doesn’t just prepare us for the life hereafter, it also paves the way for a meaningfully happy way of life even now.


...
Adapted from my homily on the same theme and readings three years ago.

From Guilt to Grace

HOMILY
11th Sunday in Ordinary Time – C – 16 June 2013

Readings: 2 Sam 12:7-10, 13; Ps 32:1-2, 5, 7,11; Gal 2:16, 19-21; Lk 7:36-8:3


Do you remember the last time you felt guilty over some wrongdoing? I doubt if anyone of us enjoys feeling guilty over something. It is an unpleasant feeling to say the least. Guilt prevents us from living life fully, and taken to extremes, it can make some people dysfunctional and immoblized.

That is why it is understandable that most of us try to avoid the feeling of guilt or shame. We devise coping mechanisms to get around it: denial, passing the blame, outright lie. In pathological cases, there are therapies devised just to handle and overcome guilt.

In our haste to eliminate uncomfortable guilt, some of us are led to think that when we rid ourselves of it, we can move on and lead happy lives. Not so fast. Guilt is also a natural human response. And there is such a thing as legitimate guilt.

The Jewish philosopher Martin Buber calls it “existential guilt”, which “occurs when someone injures an order of the human world whose foundations he or she knows and recognizes as those of his or her own existence and of all common human existence”.

When hurt is done or wrongdoing is committed, whether by malice or insensitivity, the one wronged feels his or her world is damaged, and so the victim becomes more cautious in making similar choices, less trusting with people, less optimistic about life. It is not only the wronged party who gets affected, but the wrongdoer as well. Something also becomes off in his or her world, and this manifests in guilt.

The prophet Nathan, in the First reading, was sent on a mission to show King David his existential guilt. He committed adultery with Bathsheba and sent her husband, a loyal general, to die in the battlefield to cover up their sin. David might have thought he got away with it. Nathan was sent so he won't get the wrong idea.

Guilt is our conscience tugging at us, an indicator that something is amiss in our moral compass. In the Gospel Reading, Jesus showed Simon the Pharisee how much his moral compass was amiss. He failed to see how he was rather dismissive of his guest, and scornful of the sinful woman. Jesus taught him that between his scorn for the sinful woman and the woman’s bizarre behaviour, it was the woman who has her priorities right.

1. Guilt is present not to make us feel miserable, but to help us seek forgiveness.

Once again from Martin Buber: “Humans are those beings who are capable of becoming guilty and are capable of illuminating their guilt.”

David, upon hearing Nathan’s indictment, felt remorse and said: ““I have sinned against the Lord.” As if to echo David’s remorse, the response to the Psalm this Sunday says: “Lord, forgive the wrong I have done.”

We Catholics are blessed to have the Sacrament of Reconciliation to satisfy our need for forgiveness. When was the last time you went to confession and beg God to forgive your sins? How regularly do you go to confession? Do you even consider the Sacrament important at all or it is just one of those quaint family traditions that you have to go through during Holy Week?

When we don’t satisfy our longing for forgiveness, our guilt will gnaw and nag at us. But it is not the worst thing that could happen. Worse is when our guilt disappears. When it happens, it means we have become desensitized to the sin we have done, and most likely, are still doing. And when the sense of guilt is gone, the next to go is the sense of God.

2. The point of forgiveness is not to assuage our guilt but to lead us to order our life for the better.

There is an oft-quoted prayer made by a young and newly-converted St. Augustine, at that time still recovering from the old habits of his former sinful lifestyle: "Lord, give me chastity, but not yet."

Sometimes we find it rather easy to ask for forgiveness but are not quite ready to put proper order in our lives just yet. There are also those who treat the Sacrament of Reconciliation as if it were some sort of spiritual washing machine.

God’s forgiveness – especially through the Sacrament of Reconciliation – is never about tolerating wrongdoing, nor is it a mere washing of dirty linens, or whitewashing old sins. Rather it helps us to rediscover the true purpose and meaning of our lives. In the Gospel accounts, when Jesus tells the sick and the sinners, "your sins are forgiven", He is giving them a new lease on life, or more precisely, He is leading them to a new life.

3. A decision to order our life for the better means welcoming God’s grace to enter our life and transform us.

Mahatma Gandhi tells this personal story: “When I was 15 years-old, I stole something. Because I was in debt, I stole a golden bracelet that belonged to my father. But I could not stand the burden of my guilt. So I went to him. But as I stood there, I was so ashamed that I could not open my mouth. So I wrote my confession down on a piece of paper. And while I was handling it to him, my whole body trembled. My father read the note, closed his eyes and then tore it to pieces. All he said was: ‘Think nothing of it.’ Then he took me in his arms, and from that moment on I began to love my father more than I had ever done before.”

Similarly, God forgives not so much because we are deserving or that we have done something good, but because it is in His nature to love us no matter what.

The sinful woman in the Gospel passage came to Jesus, weeping, anointing his feet with fragrant ointment, showing prodigious amount of love because even before Jesus articulated her being forgiven, she knew and felt that she was welcomed, accepted and loved by Him. This is the sense by which St. Paul proclaims in Gal 2,16: “we know that a person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ.”

Ultimately what is being revealed here is an image of God: ready to forgive and reconcile with us, poised to give us His grace, intending to share with us His very life. What are we to do with a God like this?

One last story…

A missionary once observed a Sunday Mass in Bolivia. His curiosity was piqued by the offertory procession of four teenage boys. Aside from the offering of candle, bread and cruets (water and wine), one of them held a rather large stone in his hands. When they reached the foot of the altar, they turned around and lifted up the offertory gifts for all to see. Only one of them speaks: the youth holding the stone. He prays:

“Father in heaven, this stone is also a gift from us. It represents us and our hearts. Enkindle in us a warmth for one another and never allow us to become or remain hard like this stone. On the contrary, may we continue to spread light and life. As we lay it on the altar, may our hearts be transformed just as the bread and wine will be. Amen.”

My suggestion for a fitting response to a God like this: follow Heb 3,7-8: “If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts”.