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QUESTIONS

“WHOSE ARE WE?” (Jn 10:1-10): 13 April 2008 (Fourth Sunday of Easter, Good Shepherd Sunday)

“WHOSE ARE WE?” (Jn 10:1-10):  13 April 2008 (Fourth Sunday of Easter, Good Shepherd Sunday)

Today’s Readings

Bernini has a beautiful and somewhat controversial marble sculpture in the Cornaro Chapel of Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome.  The sculpture is called “St. Teresa in Ecstasy” and portrays a religious experience of St. Teresa of Avila as she describes it in her autobiography:  She sees a vision of a young angel who pierces her heart and her entrails with a spear, causing her to moan out of pain and ecstasy.

Some people have been scandalized by such an unconventional account of a mystical experience.  Religious experience described like that sounds much too sexual for comfort.  Bernini’s Teresa has been criticized as someone not so much in the throes of mysticism, but–believe it or not–“in veiled orgasm!”

In truth, however, many mystics have compared spiritual intimacy to the physical and even the sexual.  So St. Teresa’s somewhat controversial religious experience as depicted by Bernini’s equally controversial scultpture only expresses the depth and the intensity of the intimacy that the saint enjoyed with the Lord.  It is small wonder that she has been known not only as “Teresa of Avila,” but also as “Teresa of Jesus”–naming not only who she was, but also whose she was.

When you think about it, there are two important questions that we need to answer in our lives.  The first question confronts us almost the moment we are born:  “Who am I?”   As we grow, we grapple to discover our identity and our gifts–what makes each of us unique–or as someone put it, “what makes me me.” But as we do so, we also at the same time shape our selves and our character, making decisions and taking actions that define who we are.

There is another, equally important question that every person also needs to answer–a question that is usually forgotten.  We need to answer this second question as much as the first if we want to find the meaning of our lives. This second question is:  “Whose are you?”  In other words, to whom do we belong?  The answer to this question covers not only the self-defining friendships we keep, but also to the life-shaping commitments we make.  And just like the first, we go about answering this question not so much through our words but through our actions, not so much with our lips but with our lives.

If you’re wondering what all the talk in today’s gospel about sheep, shepherds, and sheep gates are, the Lord is really speaking of whose we are.  We are his.  Or, at least he wants us to be his.  First, he describes himself as a shepherd who calls his sheep by name and whose voice his sheep recognize.  He lays his claim on us as his.  But still not content with that, he mixes metaphors and describes himself as the very gate through which we his sheep enter the fold.

Much can be said about the Lord as a shepherd or even as a sheep gate, but what struck me in today’s reading is that on these occasions when he calls us his, he also defines himself as ours.  We are his sheep, but he makes himself our shepherd.  He even makes himself our gate!

And that, for me, is the greatest wonder of all:  Not only does our relationship define us as his, but the Lord loves us so much that he does the unthinkable:  He also allows our relationship to define him!  By claiming us as his, he makes himself ours.

St. Teresa of Avila tells another one of her religious experiences, this time involving not an angel but the Christ Child himself.  According to the story, one day at the convent she meets a mysterious child coming down the stairs. The child stops in his tracks and asks her who she is.

“Teresa of Jesus,” she replies before asking, “And who are you?”

The child looks at her and says, “I am Jesus–of Teresa.”

Here’s a Quick Question for you: “Do you recall a moment in your life when for some reason, you felt–more than usual–that you belonged to the Lord, that you werehis?”  Think about it, and feel free to share a thought, a feeling, or a question.

(image:  detail from Bernini’s St. Teresa in Ecstasy)

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QUESTIONS

“CHANGED FOR GOOD” (Lk 24:13-35): 06 April 2008 (Third Sunday of Easter)

“CHANGED FOR GOOD” (Lk 24:13-35):  06 April 2008 (Third Sunday of Easter)

Today’s Readings

Reading the story of Emmaus reminds me of a song from the hit Broadway musical “Wicked,”  a refreshingly new take on “The Wizard of Oz.”  The song is called “For Good” and is sung by—of all people—two witches!   In the musical, Glinda and Elphaba (better known as the “Good Witch” and the “Wicked Witch of the West,” respectively) are the best of friends who have to part ways.  Together they sing this song of goodbye and talk about how their friendship has made a difference in their lives.  

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HOMILIES

“SHOWING OFF MY WOUNDS” (Jn 20:19-31): 30 March 2008 (Second Sunday of Easter, Divine Mercy Sunday)

“SHOWING OFF MY WOUNDS” (Jn 20:19-31):  30 March 2008 (Second Sunday of Easter, Divine Mercy Sunday)

Today’s Readings

According to statistics, 11.5 million cosmetic procedures were done in 2006 in the United States alone.  Over 3 million received Botox treatments.  Almost 1.5 million underwent laser hair removal.  And  there were approximately 400,000 patients for liposuction and another 400,000 for breast augmentation.

Thanks to today’s advanced medical technology and an outrageously beauty-conscious culture, more and more men and women are going for cosmetic procedures.  An ad for the metrosexual lifestyle may as well go:  “Got a problem with a body part? Just fix it!”

That’s why there’s something very wrong with today’s Gospel scene. When most of us would prefer to hide our smallest blemish, the Risen Lord shows off his wounds!  And it gets worse when you realize that the Lord’s resurrection actually gives him a once-in-a-lifetime chance to exchange his old body for a brand new one, but what does he do?  He chooses to keep his wounds!

I don’t know about you, but doesn’t that’s really crazy, isn’t it?  If I were going to rise from the dead and get a brand new body in the process, why keep the wounds?  Some of us here can’t even wait for our resurrection to fix our faces and bodies.  The slightest scar, the slightest mark, the slightest pimple–all this has to go asap, never mind how much.

But mind you, when we talk about the Risen Lord, we aren’t even just talking about scars or marks, much less pimples.  Remember what Thomas said:  “I will never believe (that he has risen) without putting my finger in the nailmarks and my hand into his side.”  It’s even more graphic in Filipino:  “…hangga’t hindi ko isinusuot ang mga daliri ko sa kanyang mga sugat…”  Putting the finger and hand into the wounds?

Looks like these aren’t just scars that we’re talking about—we’re talking about open, gaping wounds here.  For some strange mysterious and mystifying reason, the Risen Lord, even after transforming his earthly body into a risen body, has chosen to retain the wounds he got from the cross—and to keep them fresh and open.  In fact, to this day, the Risen Christ continues to bear these open gaping wounds in his body.

So the question is:  “Why?”  Why keep the wounds if you can have a totally brand new risen body?

I think we can get a clue from soldiers who have had their share of battles and bear scars from battles in their bodies.  It is not a rare practice for these soldiers to show their scars to friends and to people, if only to prove their heroism and love of country.

Perhaps in the same way, our Lord considers his wounds as marks of his heroism and great love for us, the love that made him end up on the cross.  Maybe every time we think of him, he wants us never to forget his love for us.

Also, soldiers sometimes examine their wounds themselves to remember their experiences and to remind themselves of what they have been through.  Some soldiers have several wounds received from several battles, and they almost have names for every single wound in their body.

Maybe our Lord is also like that.  When he examines the wounds that he continues to bear in his risen body, maybe he is also reading the names of the people for whom he suffered those wounds.  He reads our names, yours and mine, in every wound that he has received in his suffering and death.

When we think about it, we aren’t too different from the Lord when we love.  When we love, we make ourselves vulnerable and often get wounded in the process.  There seems to be no way of getting around that, at least not in this imperfect world of ours.  Interestingly, the Chinese term for “love”—in Hokkien “tia” and in Mandarin “teng”—sounds like “pain,” and that doesn’t seem to be any accident.  When we love, we almost always have to suffer too.  And the reason for this is that when we love, we allow ourselves to be affected by the person we love.   If something not-so-good happens to a dear friend, if our child has a problem, we get hurt and we suffer because we love them.  Or, if the person we love happens to be a klutz—or worse, a bastard—expect your heart to be broken and battered.

But the important thing is to love even if we get hurt.  Now don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that we should become masochists and let people we love step all over us.  That’s a totally different story.  I’m not talking about the neurotic codependencies that some of us are sometimes suffer from, where we claim that we’re suffering out of love when in fact we’re only doing it out of a neurotic need.

I’m talking about loving in the real sense—wanting and working for what’s best and what’s right for the person we love—and accepting the pain that goes with that.  And often this might mean being tough even if we prefer to give in, saying “no” to the person we love even if he or she would be more pleased with us if we said “yes.”  Sometimes this is more difficult, isn’t it?  And the wounds we get when we do this are deeper and more painful.

That’s the kind of loving that Christ did:  He didn’t insist on giving in to his enemies just to get their love.  He stood his ground because he loved the people so much all he wanted for them was what was right.  That’s why he ended up with wounds, on the cross.

At the end of our lives, our Lord will ask us only one question:  “How have you loved?”  And we will answer not through words but only in silence.  In silence we shall open our hearts full of wounds, and each wound will have a name.

(image:  Caravaggio)

Categories
HOMILIES

EASTER 1998 (Jn 20:1-9): 23 March 2008 (Easter Sunday, The Resurrection of the Lord)

EASTER 1998 (Jn 20:1-9):  23 March 2008 (Easter Sunday, The Resurrection of the Lord)

Today’s Readings

When you think about it, there are many things that aren’t quite right with the Gospel story we just read.  First of all, the tomb wasn’t supposed to be empty:  Just three days ago, on the eve of the Sabbath, the corpse of a man, executed like a common criminal, was hurriedly buried there.  And precisely to prevent the body from being stolen, the authorities had installed guards to stand by the heavy stone that sealed the tomb.  

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QUESTIONS

“DO I ROLL AWAY THE STONE YET?”: 22 March 2008 (Black Saturday)

“DO I ROLL AWAY THE STONE YET?”:  22 March 2008 (Black Saturday)

Note:  The prescribed readings for today are already for the Easter Vigil tonight.  I’d like to share some thoughts about Black Saturday.

This painting–one of my favorites–shows John and Peter running towards the Lord’s tomb. They’ve just received word from the women who report that the Lord’s tomb is empty. We read in their faces a mixture of excitement and fear:  Has the body been taken away?  Or could it be…?