Month: December 2007

“WHAT WOULD YOU SEND ME?”  (Lk 1:39-47):  12 December 2007 (The Virgin of Guadalupe, Wednesday)

Reading:  www.nccbuscc.org/nab/121207.shtml

We don’t always notice it, but the gospels often depict Mary as being “on the move.”  Today’s reading tells us that immediately after the Annunciation, Mary “set out and traveled to the hill country of Judah” to visit her cousin Elizabeth.  As we know, for the birth of Christ, she traveled with her husband Joseph to Bethlehem.  Almost immediately after that, they escaped to Egypt before returning to Nazareth.  According to Luke’s gospel, when Jesus was twelve, the entire family went to Jerusalem for a pilgrimage to the temple.  Finally, the gospel according to John reports that she traveled down to Jerusalem to be with her son in his final moments.

“WOULD YOU REALLY FOR ME?”  (Mt 18:12-14):  11 December 2007 (Tuesday)

Reading:  www.nccbuscc.org/nab/121107.shtml

Whatever you do, don’t fall for this trick.  In today’s gospel, the Lord pulls a fast one on his disciples. He asks them:  “What is your opinion? If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search of the stray?”  

“CAN YOU TAKE YOUR EYES OFF US?” (Lk 5:17-26):  10 December 2007 (Monday)

Reading:  www.nccbuscc.org/nab/121007.shtml

One interesting film I saw months ago is “Closer,” a realistic and sometimes painful portrayal of what happens in people’s relationships.  But what has lingered long after the credits all these months is not so much the story or the characters, but this unfamiliar but hauntingly beautiful song called “The Blower’s Daughter” by Damien Rice (shown in photo).  The refrain is just really simple; it goes, “I can’t take my eyes off you,” but the line is repeated over and over and over again. Hearing it, one can’t help but be moved by the singer’s  obsessive, desperate need.

For some reason, I thought of this song when I read the gospel story today:  Jesus is busy teaching in someone’s house, and a slight commotion distracts him.  Before he knows it, a paralytic is lowered from the roof for him to heal.  The crippled man’s face catches his eye, and he can’t take his eyes off him.  If I were making a film, here is where the song begins to play.

Of course songwriter Damien Rice didn’t have this in mind  at all when he wrote the song.  There’s been a lot of interest in the meaning of this song in the internet because after all, who can guess what the ‘blower’s daughter’ means?  So far I’ve found the best answer in a blog that says it refers to the daughter of Damien’s clarinet teacher (Ah!).

But for our purposes, I think we can depart from the author’s intention.  There’s a principle in literary interpretation that says that after the text is written, “the poet is dead”–i.e., aside from the author’s intended meaning, there is also “text meaning,” which is an equally legitimate interpretation as long as it can be justified by the text.

Here’s my take on the song:  For me, the song may well apply to the Lord since it expresses how he feels about the world and about us.  Think about it:  He becomes human and as the first lines of the song, he tells his Father, “And so it is / just like you said it would be. / Life goes easy on me / most of the time.”

It’s an almost ordinary life he leads, but when he gazes upon his Father’s world–the sky, the oceans, the universe–and especially when he sees us, his Father’s sons and daughters, with all our hopes and dreams mixed with all our fears and pains, he is smitten.  He is helpless. He gets weak in the knees and can’t take his eyes off us.  He pretends to look away, and the song has a great phrase for it:  “The pupil in denial.”  He wants nothing more than to gather us in his arms and take away all our fears and pains and turn them into joy.

So today we ask him, “Can you take your eyes off us?”  And we know the question is rhetorical because the answer is obvious:  He can’t.  His love won’t permit him to.  Even as he hung on the cross, his eyes remained fixed on us.  But then, we have to do our part to let him love us.   Like the paralytic whose friends had to climb a roof just to bring him to the Lord, we too have to find ways of getting to the Lord.  If we do, we can be sure that he will not turn away from us.  He can’t.  His love won’t let him.

Note:  I’ve uploaded the song.  If you’re up to it, take a listen and imagine the Lord singing it–first to God, then to you.  The “blower’s daughter” can refer to God’s creation, most especially ourselves, whom the Lord has been calling on to turn around and return to the Father.  Some people don’t like the way the song ends because it says, “I can’t take my mind off you…`till I find somebody new.”  But it applies to the Lord when you think about it since he has to keep his eye on so many of us.

I’m also posting the lyrics below for your reference.  If you wish, you can watch the music video, too.  It doesn’t hurt too that I think Damien resembles our usual images of Christ.

“The Blowers Daughter”
(from azlyrics.com)

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky

I can’t take my eyes off of you
I can’t take my eyes off you
I can’t take my eyes off of you
I can’t take my eyes off you
I can’t take my eyes off you
I can’t take my eyes…

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We’ll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower’s daughter
The pupil in denial

I can’t take my eyes off of you
I can’t take my eyes off you
I can’t take my eyes off of you
I can’t take my eyes off you
I can’t take my eyes off you
I can’t take my eyes…

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to
Leave it all behind?

I can’t take my mind off of you
I can’t take my mind off you
I can’t take my mind off of you
I can’t take my mind off you
I can’t take my mind off you
I can’t take my mind…
My mind…my mind…
‘Til I find somebody new

(image:  weblogs.newsday.com)

“MUST YOU SPOIL THE PARTY?” (Mt 3:1-12):  09 December 2007 (Second Sunday of Advent)

Reading:  www.nccbuscc.org/nab/120907.shtml

If  a poll were conducted today about saints and biblical characters, my guess is that John the Baptist would get one of the lowest approval ratings.

Let’s face it:  Whenever he shows up in the gospel, as he does today, he’s usually bad news, reminding us of sins that we have committed but would rather forget.  That camel-hair ensemble won’t exactly land him on a “Best Dressed” list either, not to mention his strange eating habits.  In other words, the Baptist just isn’t the kind of person you’d invite to your party because he’s bound to be a party pooper.

So this Second Sunday of Advent, I’d like to turn to him and ask him a couple of questions:  “Must you spoil the party?  Must you talk about fire and brimstone instead of heaven and angels?  Why not be charming instead of resorting to all those scare tactics?”

Actually, he hasn’t always been like this.  The first time we meet him, he’s–of all things!–dancing!  Hearing the sound of Mary’s voice and recognizing the presence of the One, he leaps in his mother’s womb and for all we know, does a mean boogie as the Mother of the Lord sings her Magnificat.   When he is born, his name is all his father Zechariah needs to speak and sing again.  So what happened?  When did he turn into such a party pooper?

Maybe it happened in the desert, that lonely, scary place where God sometimes chooses to meet us–a place as much out there as in ourselves.  There, deep in his own desert, John the Baptist must have once again heard the music that once made him dance, a music so enchanting that he longed so much to share it with the rest of the world.  But soon he must have realized, much to his dismay, that the world couldn’t hear the music because its sins have rendered it–all of us–deaf.  Instead of dancing to God’s song, we’ve ended up listening to noise that we’ve been mistaking for music.  We think we’re having a ball, but we’re only limping to noise.

So you see, if John the Baptist is such a party pooper, I think it’s only because he knows we’re missing out on the real party.  After all, his job is to “prepare the way of the Lord and make straight his paths.”  He took his job so seriously, in fact, that he ended up having his head served on a plate at a dance that he till the end refused to join.

So if we want to be ready for the Lord, we’d better check if we’ve been attending the right party or dancing to the wrong music.  Otherwise, why not invite John the Baptist into our life this Advent to listen to what he has to say?  Maybe we will hear a little of the music he heard and–who knows?–one day dance and party with the Baptist.

(image:  details from Caravaggio’s “St. John the Baptist in the Wilderness”)

“HOW LONG DO WE WAIT?” (Mt 9:27-37):  07 December 2007 (Memorial of St. Ambrose, Friday)

Reading: www.nccbuscc.org/nab/120707.shtml

In the gospel story today, Jesus heals two blind men and they happily recover their sight.  But what strikes me most about the reading is that the healing doesn’t happen immediately; it is performed only after Jesus enters a house and the two blind men finally catch up with him.  Before that, we’re told that they follow him around for God knows how long, crying out to him, “Have pity on us!”

How long did they have to do that? I wonder.  How long did they have to wait?

All I can say is:  Been there, done that–haven’t we?  There have been times in our lives when we needed God’s help, and we prayed and begged, hounding him all day and all night with our pleas.  We had to wait.

Recently, I watched a film I didn’t want to watch. It’s called “A Mighty Heart” featuring Angelina Jolie.  I was reluctant to watch it because I knew watching the film would break my heart.  It’s the story of American journalist Daniel Pearl, who was kidnapped in Karachi, Pakistan, and eventually beheaded on video in 2002.  It’s a movie about waiting.  The film focuses on his pregnant wife, Mariane, as she waited and hoped against hope while the authorities tried to track the kidnapers and rescue Daniel.  But one who knows the story watches the film like a Greek tragedy, his heart just waiting to sink because of the inevitable end hanging over his head.

The strange thing about watching the film is that I found myself waiting and hoping with Mariane Pearl even if I already knew even before watching the movie that she–and I–would merely wait and hope in vain.  Daniel would never be found.  He would eventually end up dead and beheaded anyway.  But I waited and hoped still, like some desperate person who had no choice but to wait and hope.  Like Mariane Pearl.

Yes, been there, done that.  How many times have I felt similarly hopeless and desperate?  All those times I have felt that I had no choice but to wait and hope.

And so today I ask the Lord:  “How long do we wait and hope, Lord?”  Given the law of entropy, the world seems headed for inevitable ruin. Yet we wait and hope and pray because we must.  Perhaps one day you will turn around after we follow you crying for your pity. Perhaps one day you will heal our wound and ease our pain for good–and bring all our waiting to an end.

Or will we, like Mariane, simply end up waiting in vain?  But we never really just wait in vain, do we?  Doesn’t the waiting–even if in vain–bring some hidden grace?  Mariane’s waiting must have somehow gathered for her the strength she needed to face Daniel’s death, as well as the courage to raise their child alone after his death.  This Advent, let us pray that we learn to wait and hope, even if our pleas and prayers will not be answered in the exact way we expect or desire.  Sometimes the answer to the prayer is given in our very waiting.

(image:  http://media.canada.com)