“Acláranos la parábola”

(Reflexión sobre las lecturas de hoy, Martes, 28 julio 2009)
Ex 33, 7-11; 34, 5b-9. 28; Mt 13, 36-43)

Jesús se fue a la casa y allí sus discípulos se le acercaron para pedirle un favor: “Señor, acláranos la parábola de la cizaña en el campo.”

En primer lugar, podemos ver la cercanía que los discípulos gozan con el Señor. No sabemos de quien fue esa casa, pero la escena de una casa con Jesús y sus discípulos evoca una cierta sensación de intimidad. Encontrarse uno en la casa del Señor – más bien, estar en la casa con el Señor – es tener una relación íntima con Él.

Esta intimidad, en segundo lugar, que los discípulos (el Evangelio no dice “apóstoles”, que es un grupo aun más íntimo) tienen con el Señor se hace más patente en el hecho de que ellos pudieran acercarse a Él, sin titubeos, y pedirle un favor: “Señor, acláranos la parábola”.

A veces, la vida nos resulta llena de enigmas y dudas que nos quitan la paz. A veces no entendemos bien las cosas que nos pasan y la solución de nuestros problemas parecen nula. Necesitamos hablar con alguien para desahogar un poco y el primer interrogante que nos sale es: ¿por qué me pasa esto? ¡Cuánto nos gustaría decirle al Señor: “Señor, por qué permites que me pase esto?”!

Es una manera de pedirle un favor: “Señor, acláranos la parábola”.

Pero, ¿a dónde irémos para pedirle ese favor? A la casa del Señor! En los tiempos de Moisés, esa casa se llama “Tienda del Encuentro” donde él “tenía que visitar al Señor” y sólo él podía hablar con Dios “cara a cara, como habla un hombre con un amigo”. El pueblo se quedaba en la entrada de sus tiendas en el campamento. Los israelitas que veían la columna de nube a la puerta de la “Tienda del Encuentro” se levantaban y se prosternaban mientras Moisés hablaba con Dios.

La “Tienda del Encuentro” es una figura de la realidad de esa otra “tienda” en la que encontramos al Señor y podemos hablar con Él “cara a cara, como habla un hombre con un amigo”. En el Sagrario, todos y cada uno de nosotros – no sólo el sacerdote – ya tenemos acceso al Dios-hecho-hombre para entablar una relación íntima con Él, pedirle cualquier favor y hablar con Él sobre cualquier cosa que nos pasa.

Al entrar en una iglesia, podemos observar muchas personas que se quedan de pie delante de las imágenes de los santos, moviendo los labios, dirigiéndose a las imágenes de piedra o madera. Sabemos que estas imágenes simplemente nos recuerdan a los santos a los cuales mantenemos una piadosa devoción. En el Sagrario, lo que encontramos no es una imágen que nos recuerda al Señor: es Jesús mismo, en su Persona – en su Cuerpo, Sangre, Alma y Divinidad – que se hace presente bajo la apariencia del pan. Los santos no se hacen presentes bajo la apariencia de las imágenes de piedra o madera. ¿Por qué no hablemos con Jesús cuya presencia es real y sacramental en el Sagrario? Sólo Él nos puede ayudar a dar sentido verdadero a la parábola que es nuestra vida.

A priest’s testimony

“Llegas muy temprano”, (You’re too early!”) was the sacristan’s greeting as I closed the door upon entering the Assumption church here in Carcaixent, Valencia. It was 7:20 PM and the weekly mass is at 8:00 PM. I purposedly came earlier for I intended to make the usual 30-minute afternoon meditation there before the mass.

“José, why is there no electric fan in the chapel?”, I casually asked him, as I was heading towards the Blessed Sacrament chapel, with my backpack full of groceries (I bought some provisions earlier). Outside the church, the temperature reached up to 38 degrees Celcius and I was sweating like a pig.

“Es que tampoco no hay nadie que viene a estar allí” (Because nobody comes and stays there) was José’s less apologizing but poignant reply. What follows was his comment that left me pensive since then until the writing of this reflection:

“Casi no hay nadie ya que entienda lo que hay allí. Piensan que es un cajón, un ‘armario’ donde se guardan las ‘hostiacillas’ para la comunión. La gente reza delante de las imágenes y no delante del Sagrario porque ya no entiende qué es aquello” (Almost nobody understands what is inside there. They think that it is just a box, a kind of “container” of the hosts for communion. People pray before images (of a saint or Jesus) but not before the Tabernacle because they don’t understand anymore what is it).

* * *

It is very sad to think that people do not understand nor believe anymore that inside that “box” we call Tabernacle is Jesus Himself, in His Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. It is Jesus Christ in Person, under the especie of bread. Jesus Christ – the same Lord and God that the angels, saints and all heavenly powers adore – is sacramentally present in the Tabernacle. He, Whom no angel would dare to look at directly without absolute reverence, is there inside the Tabernacle, ignored by people.

When we say sacramental presence, it simply means Jesus is really present, but under the mode of presence (appearance) of the bread. The “bread” is not anymore bread in its essence but only in its appearance. Its essence (its “whatness”) is the Body of Christ. But neither it is a symbol of Christ’s presence, like some Protestants claim: it is Christ Himself present, alive. He looks at us; He listens to us.

We may not perceive Him with our physical eyes (like we see the person next to us), but His presence there in the Blessed Sacrament does not depend upon our perceiving Him. “Blessed is he who believes even without seeing.” Our incapacity to perceive His presence physically does not negate such presence. Only he who has the “eyes of faith” can perceive Christ’s Real Presence in the Tabernacle. “For what is essential is invisible to the eye” (The Little Prince).

* * *

We, priests, should be the first to give testimony to this truth – not so much in words as in deeds. To give witness to Christ’s Real and Sacramental Presence in the Tabernacle, no argument is more convincing than the living testimony of the parish priest who visits frequently the Blessed Sacrament Adoration Chapel. Once again, St. John Mary Vianney is exemplar in this respect.

I can’t understand why a parish priest would construct an Adoration Chapel, adorn it marvelously and yet, is seldom seen praying inside it. Frequent visits to the Blessed Sacrament during the day is not only a pious practice strongly recommended by the Church, but something that the priest should feel the need to do if he aspires for an efficient and meaningful priestly ministry.

I think, every pastoral activity – seminars, constructions, visitations, social care, etc. – should take its go-signal after various consultations with the Lord in the Adoration Chapel. After all, every parish project or activity does not – if we come to think of it – belong to the parish priest. It is the Lord’s initiative, don’t you think?

* * *

Of course, I am not insinuating that, perhaps, we are not praying for the success of our parish activities. What I am trying to say is that the order we are following is a mistake. Most of the time, we proceed with the activity; then, we pray for it. We should reverse the order: we consult first the Lord in prayer; we even offer sacrifices to ask for the His enlightenment; then, we proceed with the activity or project. (Prayer, sacrifices, action).

I’m sure, for whatever parish project or activity, the Parish Council is consulted. Why not consult the Lord also in the Adoration Chapel a talk to Him personally? An activity or a certain parish project alone already entails frequent visits to the Adoration Chapel. If we want parishioners to believe in Christ’s Real Presence, we, priests, should be the first to give testimony to this truth and show our conviction through our action.

* * *

José’s last comment struck me like a lightning: “Es que tampoco los sacerdotes aquí vienen para estar allí. Nadie da testimonio. Por eso, la gente no sabe con quien pueden identificarse” (Because our priests here neither come to stay there. No one gives testimony; so people can’t find an example to emulate).

Sembraré mientras es tiempo

“Disculpa, lo que dijiste ayer en la homilía que ‘el que camina en la mano de Dios, cuando se cae, se cae en la mano de Dios’, fue muy bonito” (Excuse me, what you said in the homily yesterday that “He who walks in the hands of God, if he stumbles, he stumbles in the hands of God” was very touching).

The one speaking was an old woman who sat beside me at the Blessed Sacrament chapel, while I was doing my 30-minute afternoon meditation, just before saying the Mass. Oblivious of the possible disturbance she might have caused in other persons present, the woman proceeded with a comment that encouraged me more to do what is not customarily done in weekday Masses here: give a short homily.

She said: “Ya soy vieja, pero así aprendo poco a poco cada día más” (I am already old, but, in this way, I learn a little more each day). I said to myself, if we, priests, would cease to give even a very short but substantial exposition of the Gospel reading, then, old women like her, would be deprived of learning ‘a little more each day’.

* * *

However, a short but substantial homily is easier said than done. Especially if the presider is not well-prepared, though he has fervent desire to shed light upon the readings of the day, he could just be ‘roaming around the bush’. As a result, instead of learning ‘a little more each day’, old women would grew more confused.

I remember the recommendation my professor in Pastoral Theology gave us regarding homily preparation. He said, if we are to deliver a 30-minute homily, we should prepare it for three days; a 15-minute homily, one week; a 5-minute homily, two weeks.

Exaggerating a little, his point was clear: the shorter (and, of course, substantial) is the homily, the more time is necessary for its preparation. The reason is quite easy to comprehend: to impart substantial truths needs painstaking preparation. Metaphorically, it’s like the case of a young suitor (who is truly in love), who takes a great deal of time searching for the exact words to express his affection, and even rehearsing it many times in front of the mirror.

* * *

But the real time for preparation is not the days or weeks allotted when the priest’s turn to preach comes. The preparation starts in the seminary when the candidate to the priesthood begins to immerse himself in the meditation of and living the Word of God. We cannot give what we don’t have. What we preach in the homily is (should be) truths that – at least – we, priests, are struggling to live by.

That is why more often I preach to myself. Or at least, I am reminding myself of some truths that, if silenced, would be neglected. As I listen to myself preaching, (I hope priests reading this understand what I mean), the Gospel presents itself to me in a new light. Better said, I begin to see anew my life and my priesthood – a new vision or perspective – in the light of the Gospel.

In this sense, the practice of giving short but substantial homily during weekday Masses is beneficial not only to daily Mass-goers (here, a dozen of sexagenarian and some octagenarian women), but also to us, young preachers. I, for my part, am also learning ‘a little more each day’.

* * *

Taking advantage of the fact that during funeral masses, the church is almost full, I begin to prepare a 3-minute homily, planning carefully what to say, considering the occasion, but always trying to slot in – like the prophets of old – the call to conversion, expressed in modern language. Most of the time, I have the sensation that my words simply fell on deaf ears and I am like a ‘voice in the wilderness’. But the Lord knows how to cheer me up discreetly. Sometimes, He would use an unsolicited comment of an old woman as an instrument.

Nevertheless, with or without results (usually we don’t see the results of our efforts so as to keep us from getting proud), I resolved to keep on sowing few seeds as I walk along this field or that vineyard. One day, I got inspired by a line of a Spanish hymn that we usually pray in the Liturgy of the Hours, which goes: “Sembraré, mientras es tiempo, aunque me cueste fatigas” (I shall sow, while it is still time, although it would cost me weariness).

Proclaim the Gospel of Life

Jesús and Amparo, a Spanish couple from Alicante, were like our parents during our seminary days in BIDASOA. When we were still deacons in 2005, Fr. Eugene Hechanova and I stayed in their house for three days, before going back to the Philippines. It was a gesture of deep gratitude towards this generous couple for the support – not only economic but especially spiritual – that they have extended – not only to us both, but to the entire BIDASOA International Seminary – even until the present.

Just recently, they attended the ordination of 14 new deacons (only one from the Philippines) of BIDASOA last April 25. During their stay in Pamplona, Fr. Eugene and I had the opportunity to accompany them and relive the old times together. Both are pharmacists, who used to own and manage a pharmacy in Alicante.

We’ve learned that a few years ago, they have decided to close the pharmacy. The motive? Every year, they receive complaints from clients and suffer a lot from court battles. The reason? Quite easy to understand: the clients complain simply because the pharmacy does not sell contraceptives (like condoms, “morning-after” pills, etc.). And the law requires that pharmacies should include these products in their list.

As good Catholics, trying to live coherently their faith, Jesús and Amparo decided to follow their conscience, a clear echo of what St. Peter said to the Sanhedrin: “It is better for us to follow God than to obey men.” And in doing so, they simply fulfill Jesus’ exhortation in this Sunday’s Gospel: “Go to the whole world and proclaim the Gospel.” In other words, they become living witnesses of the Gospel of life.

* * *

How many Jesuses and Amparos could we find in our neighborhood right now? In our parish, in our archdiocese, in our beloved City of Davao, can we still find Christians and Catholics who would prefer to have their pharmacies closed rather than help propagate an anti-life mentality by selling anti-life products? (Effectively, “contraception” is a contraction of two words: “contra” – against – and “conception” – engender life; hence, against life).

Speaking of anti-life mentality, one day, a Spanish friend of mine, nicknamed “K-sus” (real name is Jesús), asked me candidly why the natural method of family planning that involves doing the marital act during infertile periods if the couple does not want to have a baby, could not be considered an anti-life mentality. Simple, I said.

It cannot involve an anti-life mentality, although the couple does not want a baby, because, in the first place, it’s the natural law itself (as expressed in the fertility cycle of the woman) that does not grant the possibility of engendering life. Since God’s will is made manifest in the natural law, we can say that during infertile periods, it is God’s will that no life yet could bloom. And the couple’s desire not to have a baby is only secondary to God’s will. They simply cooperate in God’s design, so to speak.

* * *

In the use of contraceptives, this cooperation in the will of God cannot be found. Why? Because there’s no decisive consideration of the natural law (the woman’s fertility cycle). What is decisive, instead, is not reason but the sexual appetite that tends to dominate the couple, robbing them of the opportunity to exercise their will through self-control. In the use of natural method, a person exercises his reason and will. In doing so, he becomes truly human and rises above and has dominion over his animal instincts. In the use of artificial method, a person is dominated by his lower appetites; thus, is more likened to animals than to humans. What makes man truly human is the exercise of his higher faculties (reason and will).

It does not mean suppression of the lower faculties (like sexual appetites) but dominion over them, thereby integrating them into the person’s own good. The irrational exercise of man’s sexual appetites, for instance, contributes to his dehumanisation. When I say “irrational exercise”, I mean, the use of sexual faculties for mere pleasure, without considering its two inseparable objectives – expression of love (unitive) and procreation (procreative), and its fundamental context: marriage. All sexual acts done outside these parameters are simply “irrational exercise” of one’s sexual faculties, hence, degrading to the person.

* * *

My friend, K-sus, once again insisted with his question: “Are we not separating the unitive and procreative dimensions, in the case of a couple who does not want a baby yet, and performs the marital act during infertile periods?” Of course not, for a very simple reason: they don’t have an anti-life mentality.

As we can see, what the Catholic Church teaches is not simply a set of prohibitions – a list of DO’s and DON’T’s – but a pro-life mentality. I cannot understand why some people – especially those who promote contraception to curb the population, those who support the RH bill and even those who want to establish RH clinics in Davao – would prefer an anti-life to pro-life mentality. I cannot understand WHY THESE PEOPLE PREFER DEATH TO LIFE.

“Choose life and not death”, Moses said to the Israelites before they set out to the promise land. The Church is now exhorting us in the same manner: She is proclaiming the Gospel of salvation, promoting a “culture of life”, and condemning an “anti-life mentality”. She does this to fulfill the command of Jesus: “Go to the whole world and proclaim the Gospel.” Catholics and non-Catholics alike – if we prefer life to death – why not join Her voice?

Alone but not lonely

“Get used to it for it is just a foretaste”, was my priest-friend’s short but substantial advice as I shared to him my situation during the coming two-month vacation here in Carcaixent, Valencia, Spain. For the months of July and August, I am staying in San Antonio de Padua Parish, one of the three parishes that constitute the town of Carcaixent. Together with another two valenciano priests, my pastoral assignment consists simply in celebrating the Holy Eucharist in three churches and the Confession.

With the word “foretaste”, my friend, Fr. Carlos, a Peruvian priest (who is going back to Perú this month as he has finished his licentiate in Philosophy already), was referring to the fact that I am residing alone in the parish. I have to do my own laundry, cook my own food, do a few household chores and follow my own schedule.

As a visiting priest, I am not given pastoral responsibility like Catechism, etc. Besides, activities in the parish here are reduced during summer due to various reasons: less people come to the Church (as many are on vacations in other places), the scourging summer heat (one day it reaches up to 40 degrees celcius), etc.

* * *

“Most of the time you will be alone. This is our life,” Fr. Carlos added. And I agree. A priest’s life, although it is a public life (which means, it is a life directed towards others, a life for the service of the community), is basically a life of solitude. And by solitude, I am referring to the practical existence of living alone. The deeper this truth is understood, the better it is embraced and lived.

In the first place, solitude is not synonymous to loneliness. Hence, the famous saying “Alone but not lonely”. Why? Because solitude here is simply physical and apparent. Being alone here simply refers to the fact that physically, I have no other human being to interact with.

But I can always evoke the presence of God in my aloneness. I can always talk to Him and, although I can hardly feel physically His presence, by faith, I am sure He is with me (as He promised He would). Therefore, never I am all alone. My solitude is simply apparent.

* * *

Besides, loneliness is a matter of choice, in the same way that one is happy is he chooses to. Loneliness does not spring necessarily from being alone. There are people who enjoy being alone that with others. Moreover, there are lonely people who are surrounded by lots of company.

I’d say loneliness is a temptation, and as such, it is an opportunity. When one experiences a heavy heart upon realizing that he or she is alone, or upon reminiscing some joyful experiences in the past, he or she is given two options: (a) let oneself be weighed down by such sadness, or (b) employ such affection as a means to do something good.

In my experience, I have learned to employ the feeling of loneliness and melancholy (that sometimes haunt us without desiring it) as an “alarm clock”. For instance, the melancholic feeling of missing my friends could be a reminder for me to pray for these persons. One “Our Father” for that friend, or a “Hail Mary” for this fellow, not only would help me ease the loneliness, but also gave me the joy of having prayed for them.

I call it human industry, not just a defense mechanism. The feeling of loneliness and melancholy is simply temporary and does not actually linger for a long time. Hence, we can make good use of them as our “alarm clock”. Whenever they occur to us, we are given the opportunity – we are reminded – to evoke the presence of God, to pray for the people for whom we want to pray, and to realize that, in fact, we may alone but never lonely.

Love for priests

“¿Nunca te pasó esto en Filipinas?” (Never did it happen to you in the Philippines?) There was a tone of surprise in my Peruvian priest-friend’s voice. “No, nunca. Gracias a Dios,” I said. (No, never, thanks be to God.)

He was referring to what happened just a few minutes before he made such query. The two of us were walking towards the Polideportivo (gym) of the University of Navarre, to greet some friends who attended the Eucharistic celebration on the Solemnity of Saint Josemaria Escriva, the founder of the said university, last June 26.

As we approached the underpass, we heard a loud scream coming from the approaching car opposite to our direction. Four young men howling at us with foul words like “Hola, curicas, hijos de p…” (Hey, priests, sons of a b…!).

At first, we did not pay them attention. But not yet contented with the first, they made a U-turn and came near to us uttering more four-letter words. We could only sigh in pain at the thought that here in Spain, some young people have reached the point of even insulting priests that they see on the streets. On what grounds? We never know!

* * *

But what we know is that something seriously wrong is going on in this country. And as I was sharing to this companion of mine, in the Philippines, I’ve never heard (yet) of similar case. (Although, of course, I’ve heard of a politician insulting a priest on TV. But of a priest being insulted without apparent motive on the streets is, to me, something new and very unfortunate.)

Yet to us priests, insults and experiences like this should never catch us in surprise. Why not? If Jesus Himself was not even spared, why would we, His priests suppose that we’d be exempted from such affront?

I remember one priest-professor of mine in the university who was about to deliver a speech during an academic gathering. After an impressive introduction, he immediately commented: “I don’t know what I have done to deserve this ‘mistreatment’ (he was referring to the excellent compliment) because if our Lord and Master had been criticized and condemned, why would I – His unworthy disciple – deserve such a brilliant presentation?”

* * *

Little by little, modern society loses the admiration of the grandeur of Christ’s priesthood. It is a logical consequence, parallel to the “loss of the sense of sin” that years ago, Pope Pius XII denounced as “the greatest sin of this generation”. Once the society loses the sense of sin, it loses the sense of God. It does not need Christ and His salvation anymore. It does not need priests. That explains the devilish delight of those who like to insult priests, whether on the streets, on TV or any other arena.

I think, the loss of the sense of sin is a consequence of the loss of the sense of love – true love. Sin is nothing else but failure to love. Not just any kind of love, but the love that we – creatures – should have towards God – our Creator.

When God created us, He has willed that we live in eternal communion with Him. But such communion requires that we “know and love” Him freely. To know and love God means to do what pleases Him and to avoid what keeps us apart from His will. If we really love someone, we are more than willing to do whatever pleases that person and avoid whatever causes him or her pain, or whatever separates us from him or her. It is the same thing with God.

* * *

Pope Benedict XVI, in his Letter to the Priests, emphasized that "the priesthood is the love of the Heart of Jesus". Pointing out the relationship between priesthood and love, the Pope – I believe – suggests that at the core of our priestly ministry we find love as the motor and the guiding principle of every activity.

In his Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation, Pastores dabo vobis, the Church’s document on the formation of priests, Pope John Paul II says: “By virtue of this consecration brought about by the outpouring of the Spirit in the sacrament of holy orders, the spiritual life of the priest is marked, molded and characterized by the way of thinking and acting proper to Jesus Christ, head and shepherd of the Church, and which are summed up in his pastoral charity” (PDV, 21).

I think, this Year for Priests is an opportunity for all of us to renew our “love for priesthood” – that is nothing else but our love for the Heart of Jesus. It is an opportunity for us, priests, to rekindle once more our pastoral charity, and for all members of the Church to revive once again that love for the grandeur of priesthood – that love for priests – that our society today is found wanting.