Sunday, December 31, 2017

MOTHERS AND PROPHETS

Almost all our favorite characters in the Bible are prophets: from Miriam, to Moses; from Elijah to John the Baptist; from Huldah to Anna. God gave us these prophets. God also gave us their mothers.

Bible scholars argue that the Bible was probably written by men for men and most of its central characters are men. Women characters who take center-stage in the biblical narratives are quite rare. Rarer still are mothers who are both named and who get to speak.

Let me offer two.

Let’s start with Hannah. She was loved but she was barren and in a society where barrenness was considered a curse, she cried and prayed and pleaded to Yahweh to remember her and Yahweh did. She gave birth to a son and named him Samuel, which meant, “I have asked him of Yahweh.”

And in her prayer in 1 Samuel 2, comparable to the power and the passion of Mary’s Magnificat in Luke 1. 46-55, we encounter a mother’s faith, a faith I’m sure she taught her son, a faith that continues to challenge us today… Let me read some of her prayer’s most powerful affirmations… The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength, God kills and brings to life, God brings down to Sheol and raises up, God raises up the poor from the dust, God lifts the needy from the ash heap.

However you read Hannah’s Prayer the message is clear—God will make things right. And most important, God is on the side of the poor, of the oppressed, of the hungry, of those whose only hope is God. This was the faith of Hannah, the same faith her prophet son, Samuel, had. Most of us probably remember the son more than his mother. The message has not changed. Hannah and Samuel’s faith remain. We worship and serve a God who actually takes sides.

If we read our Bibles then we know that the God we serve and worship has always been on the side of the poor.

From Genesis to Revelation, we read about our covenant relationship with Yahweh that requires us to take care of the widows, orphans, strangers and foreigners, yes, illegal immigrants, refugees, internally displaced communities, the Rohingya among us. From Genesis to Revelation, we are enjoined to feed the hungry, offer drink to the thirsty, welcome the sick and the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and the imprisoned.

We know whose side God is on but are we on the right side? Those of us who take pride in calling ourselves Christian, are we on God’s side?

Do we let poor widows, orphans, and strangers give everything they have, even the little money left to buy food, so that we can build our temples and our buildings as monuments to our messianic complexes and imperial theologies?

Mary of Nazareth believed in a God who brings down rulers from their thrones but lifts up the humble. She believed in a God who fills the hungry with good things but sends the rich away empty. And this faith, we know she taught her Son, the One we call Lord and Savior. Hannah and Mary knew what God required of us. It is not burnt offerings or ten thousand rivers of oil or mighty buildings. Then and now, God requires of us to do justice and to love kindness and to take sides…

And the message will never, ever, change. We worship and serve a God who takes sides. A God who takes the preferential option for the poor. A God who brings down kings and kingdoms. A God who weeps with those who weep and who cries with those who cry. We worship and serve a God who, in the fullness of time, in the life and ministry of one Jesus, son of Mary from Nazareth, did the greatest act of taking sides—God became one of us. God left heaven to be with us. And God continues to take sides—as we encounter God among the least of the least, among the hungry and the thirsty, among the prisoners, the strangers, and the sick, among the homeless and the naked, among those devastated by nature’s wrath and by humanity’s greed, among those whose only hope is God.

Let me share with you a story told by John Dominic Crossan, probably the most read Historical Jesus researcher today: He imagines a conversation with Jesus. He asks Jesus what he can say about Crossan’s research. Jesus says he has done great work, his research is excellent, and his reconstruction of Jesus is the closest to the real person. Crossan is ecstatic about Jesus’ praise, until Jesus adds: “One thing you lack.” And Crossan, asks: “What is it, Lord?” And the reply: “Sell everything you have, including all the royalties you’ve received from the books you’ve written about me; give the proceeds to the poor, and follow me.” Crossan says, “I cannot, Lord.”

Yes, my dear sisters and brothers, the final test. Those of us who take pride in calling ourselves Christian, worship and serve a God who takes sides; but most importantly, the Christ we worship and serve wants us to sell everything we have, give all the proceeds to the poor and follow him.

Hannah and Mary gave the very best they could offer to God: their children. And their children did so, as well. They offered the very best. They gave their lives for others.

As we welcome 2018, are we ready to do so? Did our mothers teach us to do so?  I  believe they did. I know they did.

Amen.


Thursday, December 28, 2017

NEVER AGAIN!


It is time we took another road. Over and over again we take the same road. We never learn. We imagine that doing the same thing will change the outcome. It never has. It never will.

The Empire strikes back. Always. In the case of the Magi, innocent children were massacred. And innocent children will continue to die as long as we try to save Baby Jesus from Herod. We should stop. He is not a baby anymore. He also does not need saving. The Magi did that already.

The Empire always strikes back. There are more Herods today. They are purveyors of war. Last year alone 1.7 trillion dollars were spent on the arms industry. Over half a trillion in the illegal drug trade. The War on Terror and the War on Drugs have left a trail of suffering and death on the innocent.

Thus, you and I need to be wiser. We need to be Magi-er. We need to be more sensitive to the warnings in our shared dreams. We need to know when to beat swords into plowshares. And when not to. We need to take other roads.

And we need to do all these to make sure that the massacre of innocent children does not happen again. Anywhere. Ever.


["Scene of the Massacre of the Innocents," Leon Cogniet, 1824]

Sunday, December 24, 2017

TRANSGRESSING BORDERS

Going outside boxes is hard. Leaving our comfort zones? Equally hard. The Magi’s quest took over two years transgressing borders. In search of a child. A complete stranger. A stranger they believed would liberate his people from oppression.

Crossing boundaries, discarding prejudices, tearing down walls: very, very hard. And very, very scary! And taking another road back is hard and scary, as well. The Magi went against the orders of Herod the King and innocent children were massacred. More often than not, then and now, when the powerful are threatened the most powerless get hurt.

Who among us have flown on airplanes? Who among us have looked out the windows of those airplanes and seen the land masses below? What did you see? Did you see the lines, the borders that separated one nation from another? Did you see the markers that identified each country's territory apart from another? Like in our color-coded maps? The boxes we make, our comfort zones, our prejudices, our bigotry, our racism, the thick and high walls around our homes and even our churches, that Apartheid Wall in Israel, and Trump’s White Walls, the borders that separate us are all man-made.

We put them up, which means we can tear them down! 

In the verses that most of us have been reflecting on this holiday season, from the first chapters of Matthew and of Luke, one element is crystal clear. Except for Mary and Joseph, all the characters who come together to celebrate the birth of the Messiah are strangers. Complete strangers.

Empires and Kingdoms create systems, structures, and lifestyles that create strangers, that divide, that alienate, that pit one against the other, whether the division is based on class, race, creed, gender, religion.

The birth of the Messiah, the fulfilment of the promise of Immanuel, the coming of Yeshua—which means Yahweh Liberates—brings complete strangers together. It births community! The birth of the Messiah, my dear friends, can tear down walls.

And as the Messiah showed us, feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, visiting the sick and the imprisoned, clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger, proclaiming good news to the poor, all these tear down walls as well.  One word.  Immanuel.

But let us not forget. The best way to experience Immanuel, God’s presence in our lives, is to be Immanuel to someone else.  The key is not to wait for Immanuel but to be Immanuel to those who need God the most, to those whose only hope is God!

Today, as so many people struggle for life, for safe spaces, for dignity, each of us is invited to be active participants in the quest for a just and lasting peace, to be agents of love and faith and hope in the healing of our world, to tear down walls that divide, that disempower, that marginalize, that dehumanize, that kill.

Scary? Yes. Hard? Yes. Dangerous? Yes. But this is what the incarnation is all about. No one deserves to be alone, so God took the first step. God transgressed borders. God left heaven to be with us. God chose to be one of us. God took sides. And God took the side of the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized.

And we, those who confess to follow God, should do the same. My friends, as we celebrate the Birth of the Messiah, I invite us all to cross borders like the Magi, to tear down walls that divide, to be God’s presence in others’ lives, to change our ways and take another road.

And like the Magi, by taking another road, the road less traveled, and even the road-less travel, let us participate in the healing of our world and in our own healing.

Immanuel.


Wednesday, December 20, 2017

NO ROOM

 No Room

This is the reality of our world today.  There is no room.

No room for refugees. No room for Lumads. No room for the Rohingya. No room for Palestinians. No room for PLHA. No room for LGBTQi. No room for the Other. Sadly, nothing has changed.

The first Christmas. We combine Matthew’s and Luke’s narratives. We re-enact it almost every December in our school plays and in our church pageants. St. Francis started the tradition in the 1200s. In our re-enactments, Joseph and a very pregnant Mary find no room in any inn. No one is ready and willing to welcome the couple. Eventually, they find shelter among animals, in a manger, where Jesus is born. Soon, visitors arrive: angels, shepherds, even the Little Drummer Boy in some of our plays, and then the magi bringing gifts. Incidentally, in one TV spot I saw abroad, one of the magi brings the Baby Jesus the newest Android Smartphone.

In artwork going around in our social networks, the Wise Men are blocked by Israel’s Apartheid Wall. Mary and Joseph experience an IDF checkpoint. No room for the Magi. No room for the Holy Family. Not even in Bethlehem.

We think our Christmas Plays end on a happy note because we either end it with everyone singing carols or with a rendition of Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus, sang by the choir or blasted through our sound systems.

We forget that the play ended the way it began: there was no room in the inn.

In rare occasions we do find people going against the script. Sometimes, someone from the audience, someone from our congregations would volunteer to welcome Joseph, Mary, and Joseph to their homes. Sometimes, we hear someone crying out: “There is a place for them in our home.”

Today is one of those times when we are challenged to affirm that “there is a place in our homes, in our churches, in our schools, in our communities.” Today, more than ever, we need to go against the script. We cannot afford to close our doors. We cannot afford to put up walls. Trump is wrong. Israel is wrong. Duterte is wrong.

We cannot afford to be inhospitable. We cannot afford to spend Christmas without opening our homes to the Christ who confronts us through the least among the least: the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the prisoners, the unclothed, the complete stranger, the orphan, the widow... the thousands left homeless and devastated by the Marawi Siege; the tens of thousands victimized by years of unabated mining, logging, militarization, and the culture of impunity; the countless others, human beings like you and me, who have been sacrificed in the War on Terror and the War on Drugs.  

The cycles of violence, of dehumanization, of exploitation, of disenfranchisement, of victimization have to stop. All these are man-made which means we can unmake them. Things need to change. Now.

There should always be room.  If there is none, you and I have to make sure there is. This is what Jesus did.  He gave his life creating room for the least, the lost, and the last.

This is what we must do.



[images from cifwatch.com and desertpeace.wordpress.com]

Friday, December 15, 2017

Mina, Romana, and Americana

The mina was 1/60 of a talent. If a talent was worth 15 years' wages, the mina was 3 months' wages.

This Lukan parable resonates with the one about the talents in Matthew. That one celebrated 100% profit. This one celebrates
1,000% and 500% returns on investment.

But there's more. It also promises death to anyone who opposes the current dispensation.

Empire has been not changed. Its idea of peace has always been peace based on victory in war. Peace based on silencing dissent. Then it was Pax Romana. Today, it is Pax Americana.

Most of Jesus's audience would have known the history behind the parable. Herod Archelaus, Herod the Great's Son, went to Rome to get Caesar's blessing. His enemies went there as well to raise their opposition. Archelaus gets the Empire's blessing and promptly has his enemies killed. Just like the nobleman who became king in the parable.

Jesus was a child when all these happened. His exposure to the evils of greed, lust for power, and systemic violence began early. The same applies to the children in Marawi, in Palestine, in many parts of our world where so many are treated as sub-human, as commodity, as illegals, or as animals.

When Jesus said, God's reign is for children, he envisioned a world that was the complete opposite of Empire.





Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Patches, wine, and change

One does not use new cloth to patch up a tear in an old garment. Nor does one pour new wine into old wineskins. Does not work. Never did. Never will.

Self explanatory.

But did Jesus mean something else? The parable is possibly an answer to the question about fasting. The Pharisees and John the Baptist and their followers fasted. Jesus and his group did not. Old ways, new ways. One way, another way. Forcing the new into the old does not work. Never did. Never will.

The old will eventually give way to the new.

Again, this is about good and good. There are people who fast. There are people who don't. It's also about change. And about waiting.

We love our old garments. We also love aged wine. Change is hard. For most of us. But it is inevitable. Eventually, we get new garments. And we finish our favorite wine.

The old will eventually give way to the new. Clothes. Wine. Every. Thing.

Many interpretations of this passage pitted the Pharisees, John's group, and Jesus's against each other. And, usually, the Christian way is always the right way. The only way.

But we have to remember, in the first quarter of the First Century, all three were Jewish liberation movements against Roman Occupation. All three were movements for genuine change.

All believed that change was inevitable. It might be protracted but it will come.






Friday, December 08, 2017

Two House Builders

Many of Jesus's parables involved two characters. Two sons, two men praying, two sets of flock (sheep and goats), two groups of five girls, two look-alike plants (wheat and bastard wheat), two debtors...

Often, when we are presented with two choices, two options, two paths, we assume that the choice is between good and bad so we automatically choose the good. But, in reality, many of the choices we make are not really that clear-cut. Usually it's between good and better. Or, for the majority, between bad and worse.

As I have done in the past, I will not offer a reading based on Matthew's appropriation of Jesus's parable (that the house builders represent the doers and the non-doers of Jesus's teachings) but on how the story may have resonated with its original hearers.

How many people do you think had the resources to build houses on rock during Jesus's time? How many people do you think had the resources to even build houses--any type of shelter or dwelling--at all?

Why to you think Jesus challenged everyone to feed the hungry, offer drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the sick and the imprisoned, and welcome the stranger? Because during his time, for most of the people, homes built on rock was an impossible dream, homes on sand was a long shot, homelessness was the stark reality.

Why do you think Jesus said, "Foxes have dens and birds of the air have nests, but humans have no place even to lay their heads"?

Sunday, December 03, 2017

The Bad Samaritan

Yes, we love the parable. It is one of the two favorites among Christians. The other being the Prodigal Son.

We identify with the Samaritan. We name our institutions after him. But before we continue patting each other's backs and celebrating, let us remember what Samaritan meant during Jesus’s time.

There were at least three groups of people that were most hated and despised during Jesus’s time. Centurions, tax collectors, and Samaritans. These were the bad guys. Jesus's enemies pejoratively call him a Samaritan.

Priests and Levites were the good guys. The models of society in word and deed. They were expected to help the wounded. They did not.

The bad guy did. Ironically, to this day, the bad guys still do. Help the wounded, rescue the dying, save the half-dead. But we don't call them Samaritans anymore. We call ourselves that now. We even added a qualifier, Good Samaritan.

But, tragically, we still do not stop and help. We have even come up with the best excuses for our inaction, apathy, and indifference. Especially if the wounded is Black, Palestinian, Rohingya, LGBT, or PLHA.

The bad guys do not care about labels. They just continue helping the wounded along the world's bloody ways. And they actually have help. Innkeepers.

Saturday, December 02, 2017

Josephine Anne and Mustard Seeds

A pint-sized woman with a big heart for the country. This is how friends and family have described Josephine Anne Lapira. Her description reminds me of the mustard seed in Jesus’s parables. It is the smallest of seeds which becomes the greatest of all shrubs, putting forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.

Pliny the Elder, in his Natural History, wrote that “mustard grows entirely wild, and when it is sown, it is scarcely possible to get the place free of it, as the seed when it falls germinates at once.”

John Dominic Crossan tells us that the mustard in the parable was a wild weed shrub that grew to about five feet. Even in their domesticated form they were a lot to handle. Mustard in a well-kept garden not only spread beyond expectations but also attracted birds of all forms thus disturbing the made-up balance of a well-manicured garden, with the birds’ unpredictable feeding habits, and worse, their droppings.

Gardeners, of course, did not want weeds in their gardens. They did not want wild mustard at all cost. They spend time creating the perfect balance in their gardens: putting in the best, throwing out the worst. A well-manicured garden has no room for wild mustard, so they cut mustard young and at the roots. The mustard weed though have a way of coming back.

They always do.

Jesus likens the reign of God to a weed. It grows where it is not wanted and eventually takes over the place. All wild mustard have to be cut down lest they disturb the domesticity of the gardens tended by the rich, the powerful, and the religious elite.

But wild weeds have a way of coming back. When you least expect them. Ask any gardener. You can never completely eradicate wild weeds like mustard. They have a way of sprouting in places where they disturb, disrupt, and dismantle well-manicured gardens.

They always do!

What gardeners never understand is this: for every mustard they cut down.  Ten will take its place. For every ten, one hundred. For every hundred, a thousand.

Josephine Anne and everyone like her will rise again. They always do.



Wednesday, November 29, 2017

When Does the Healing Start?

WHEN DOES THE HEALING START?

The Leper, Jesus, and US
(A Responsive Meditation Based on Mark 1. 40-43)

Leader:
A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. (NRSV)

Millions of people today experience the plight of the leper in the Markan passage every single day. We call them People Living with HIV and AIDS. The healthy stays away from them. The healthy have stopped talking with them. The healthy have stopped interacting with them. They do not touch them anymore. They stand from afar and watch them die.

People:
What is the difference between illness and disease? Disease is physical. Illness is social. We, the un-sick, create and name the illnesses that keep us safely distanced from the sick. We, the un-sick, create the borders that keep the sick away from us. We, the un-sick, have access to the funds and the medicines that can help the sick live longer lives. We, the un-sick, decide who is ill and who is not.

All:
Many times, we, the un-sick, create the rules, the fences, the sanctions, the systems that make the sick sicker, the weak weaker, and the dying dead.

Leader:
In the Markan passage, we find the story of a leper. A person very much like a person with HIV or AIDS. He is considered unclean. People are told to keep away from him. People are told not to speak to him. People are told not to touch him. Though alive, society considers him dead.

People:
What is life without companionship? What is life without conversation? What is life without the warmth of a human touch?

All:
God did not create people to be alone. In life, in death, in life beyond death, we are not supposed to be alone.

Leader:
To celebrate Immanuel is to celebrate God-with-us. We are not alone. We shall never, ever, be alone. No one deserves to be alone. Yet, many among us, the leper of ages gone, the person with HIV or AIDS today, are alone.

People:
To celebrate Immanuel is to follow Jesus, Love Incarnate.

All:
In the Markan passage, we find the story of a leper. A person very much like a person with HIV or AIDS. He is considered unclean. People are told to keep away from him. People are told not to speak to him. People are told not to touch him. Though alive, society considers him dead.

Leader:
Yet Jesus, Love Incarnate, came near him, spoke to him, and touched him. Jesus did what society told him not to do. In the companionship, in the conversation, in the warmth of a human touch, the walls the un-sick created to separate and to isolate the sick were torn down.

People:
When does the healing start? Does it start with medicines or with technology? Does it start in hospitals or in churches? Does it start with prayer or with the much-needed deposit or all-important HMO card? When does the healing start?

All:
Or do all healings start when we realize that we are each other's keepers, that we are all God's children and thus sister and brother to each other, and that one's pain is everybody's pain, and that one's struggle is everybody's struggle, and that one’s sickness is everybody’s sickness, and that one's healing is everybody's healing, and that one's resurrection is everybody's resurrection.

HOMILY:

Leader: Going outside boxes is hard. Leaving our comfort zones; likewise. The magi took over two years, border-crossing, in search of a child, a complete stranger; a stranger they believed would liberate his people from oppression.  The Ancient Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty years in their collective quest for land and liberty.


Crossing boundaries, discarding prejudices, tearing down walls, very, very hard. And very, very scary...

Who among us have ridden airplanes? Who among us have looked out the windows of those airplanes and seen the land masses below? What did you see? Did you see the lines, the borders that separated one nation from another? Did you see the markers that identified each country's territory apart from another? Did you see the colors that differentiated one area from another, like in our maps?

The boxes we make, our comfort zones, our prejudices, the thick and high walls around us, our accurate maps, even that Apartheid Wall in Palestine, and the borders that separate us are all man-made. We put them up, which means we can tear them down!

In Mark 1, a leper and Jesus meet, the sick and the un-sick, the impure and the pure, the dead and the living, the un-Jew and the Jew. Society, culture, ideology, and religion put up three invisible walls that separated them: no one is supposed to go near lepers, no one is supposed to talk with them, more importantly, no one is supposed to touch them.

It is a sin to approach lepers. It is a sin to talk with them. More importantly, it is a grave sin to touch a leper.

In three short verses, Jesus and the leper defy those rules. Together, they sin big.

Complete strangers they come near. They talk. They touch. Complete strangers, they break down three walls of separation and create three circles of contact. And the healing of both begins.

And we are invited to do likewise, to be active participants in the quest for a just and lasting peace, to be agents of love and faith and hope in the healing of our world.

Most of us have much to be thankful for. Many just celebrated Thanksgiving.  God has been good to us through the communities that welcomes and cares for us. But thanksgiving unless shared and celebrated with those whose only hope is God is not really thanksgiving, it's investing, waiting for returns.

To be thankful is to share, to take risks, to cross borders, to tear down walls and thus encounter the stranger. Scary? Yes. Hard? Yes. Dangerous? Yes.

But this is what the incarnation is all about. God crossing borders. God leaving heaven to be with us. God choosing to be one of us. God taking sides...

Thus, we are never, ever, alone. No one deserves to be alone.  NO ONE.  My friends, every moment of our lives we are challenged to cross borders, to tear down walls...one brick at a time... And beyond the walls...like the leper and Jesus, creating and nurturing circles that provide safe spaces where we can come together, where we can talk, where we can touch. Let us participate in the healing of the world and in our own healing. Let us, together, create circles of care.

People:
When does our healing start? Does it start with medicines or with technology? Does it start in hospitals or in churches? Does it start with prayer or with the much-needed deposit or all-important HMO card? When does our healing start?

All:
Our healing starts when we realize that we are each other's keepers, that we are all God's children and thus sister and brother to each other, and that each one's pain is everybody's pain, and that each one's struggle is everybody's struggle, and that each one’s sickness is everybody’s sickness, that each one's healing is everybody's healing, and that each one's resurrection is everybody's resurrection.


Women:
Like the leper and Jesus, today with People Living with HIV and AIDS, we are challenged to cross borders, to tear down walls, one brick at a time.

Men:
And beyond the walls, with People Living with HIV and AIDS we are called to create and nurture safe spaces where we can come together, where we can talk, where we can touch.

All:
With open arms, open hearts, open minds, open doors—in our homes, in our places of worship, in our institutions, whenever and wherever—let us participate in the healing of the world and in our own healing. Let us, like the leper and Jesus, create circles of care.

AMEN




Friday, November 24, 2017

Master and Slave

Every day over 6,000 Filipinos leave the country to work overseas. Every day 10 come back in a box. Millions are domestic helpers. Millions more are caregivers. Countless survive in sub-human conditions. People are most Third World nations' biggest exports. If we think that slavery in its most dehumanizing forms does not exist in the 21st century society, then we are deluding ourselves.

Slaves, in Jesus's parable in Luke 17. 7-10, should never expect to rest from their labors. Slaves should never expect thanks. Slaves should know their place, should stay there, should accept that they are worthless, and should never, ever, expect otherwise.

My friends, God did not create masters. God did not create slaves. God did not create the Trans Atlantic Slave Trade. God did not create any of the systems and structures that commodify, degrade, and emasculate people.

We did all these. Which means we can undo them all. And we must.

Now.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Binding the Strong Man

If parables can get one dead, then this parable is one of Jesus's most subversive.

If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first binding the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.

One word.Insurrection. Scholars say the kingdom refers to the State. More specifically, Rome and its puppet government in Palestine. The house refers to the Temple. More specifically, the religious elite beholden to empire. Satan, of course, refers to Rome. As a side note: Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor of Judea, and Joseph Caiphas, the High Priest, the two people directly responsible for Jesus's execution, were close friends. Both were removed from power in 36 CE.

Historians agree that the "cleansing of the temple" was Jesus and his followers' attempt to "bind the strong man and plunder his house."

Lest we forget, Jesus was crucified as an enemy of the State, as an insurrectionist. The charge, "King of the Jews," supports that. He was crucified with two other insurrectionists or rebels, not thieves or robbers.

We do not like this Jesus.

This Jesus is so unlike the one we grew up with; so unlike the one our colonial masters taught us to obey without question; so unlike the one whose portraits and paintings, usually blond and blue-eyed, adorn our places of worship.

Monday, November 20, 2017

The Rich Fool

I read somewhere that Rockefeller was asked how much money would satisfy him. His answer? More. In the part of the Philippines where I reside, there are vast tracts of land, thousands of hectares, owned by one family. In the past three years, according to Ibon Foundation, the net worth of the richest Filipinos almost doubled.

Historians tell us that in First Century Palestine practically all the land was either owned or controlled by the ruling elite. And, yes, this group included the religious leaders.

In the parable, the rich man had a problem. His harvest was so plentiful his barns were not enough to contain them. The solution? Bring down his old barns and build bigger ones. Half of the population then was slowly starving to death. Sharing? Never crossed his mind.

He died that night.

Scientists tell us that 666 billion dollars can address the world's biggest problems: poverty, hunger, illiteracy, health and sanitation... But the world's richest actually spends more and more and more each year on weapons of mass destruction. Last year, 1.7 trillion dollars!

Sharing? Tragically, like yesterday and tomorrow, 25,000 children from the poorest countries, aged 5 and younger, would be dead from starvation tonight.













Sunday, November 19, 2017

The Fig Tree

For three years the owner of the Fig tree has waited. For three years he was patient. For three years he longed for one thing, fruit from his tree. Three years pass and there were none. So he orders his gardener to chop it down. Waste of good soil. His gardener pleads, "Give it another year. I will dig around it and put manure." Give it another year.

We call them people with "green thumbs." People who love plants. People who sing and talk to them like they were people. People like the gardener who pleads, "Give it another year." People who celebrate the inter-connectedness of all life. People who believe in second chances for everyone.

Then there are people who treat everything as property. As commodity. As disposable. And a handful of them just acquired over 600,000 square kilometers of prime agricultural land. For development. For profit.

And I am sure, they will chop down not just Fig trees.


Saturday, November 18, 2017

The Two Sons

The Gospel of Matthew used this Jesus parable to address the hypocrisy of the religious leaders of his time (about 60 years after Jesus's ministry). For Matthew's Jesus the tax collectors and the prostitutes were the older son. The religious elite was the younger.

Tatay had two sons, my older brother and I. I have two sons. Thus, the parable of the two sons is quite a personal one for me.

The father asks both his sons to help out in the vineyard. The older said no but afterward changed his mind and went. The younger said yes but afterward changed his mind and did not go.

During Jesus’s time,  the family, the basic unit of Roman society, was run and owned by the father. Augustus, Roman Emperor, was Father of All Fathers. Fathers had the power of life and death over everyone in his family. Everyone was the father's property.

The two sons in the parable both disobey their father. The older by word. The younger by deed. We know that fathers then killed children who disobeyed them. Tragically, there are still fathers today who kill their children for disobeying them. Fathers who treat their children as property.

But not the father in the parable. No one is thrown into places where there is darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth. No one is banished. No one is punished.

The father is probably like Joseph, Jesus's father.  Like Tatay. Like your father. I don't remember the number of times Kuya and I have disobeyed Tatay. Growing up, I'm sure Jesus and his siblings did too. I don't remember how many times my two sons have disobeyed me and their mother.

And I think that's the point of the parable. Parents do not remember their children's disobedience because they do not count them. Children are people, not property. And people change. I'm sure there were more times the sons disobeyed their father if we continued the story. But I want to believe that eventually they got to the point where they did not have to be told what to do.









Friday, November 17, 2017

The Parable of the Seed

Most of us had to do this science project early in grade school. Bring soil in see-through pots or containers. And some seeds. In many cases in the Philippines, we brought mongo beans. We called this project, the life cycle of a plant.

Many times our next science project was the life cycle of a frog. But this is topic for another time.

Back to the mongo beans. We waited patiently for the seeds to change. For six-year olds, waiting for hours takes forever. Then we see the surprise. Slowly but surely the tiny seeds become plants. And we watch in awe and wonder.

People whose hearts beat with the heart beat of Mother Earth know this parable. Not as a story but as the reality of life. Life begets life. Each seed bears a promise.

Many times we forget that God's creation helps God create. The waters bring forth fish of all kinds. The earth brings forth plants and animals. Many times we forget that we, you and I, are latecomers to the cycles and dances of life.

Maybe it's time we just step back and watch in awe and wonder. Like we did when we were six years old.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

The Great "I am not!"

We love to play God, forgetting that we are not God.  Our greatest sin is god-playing. We forget that we are people. We are human beings, you and I, and we are created to bear witness to God and God's liberating acts.

In the same vein, there are a lot of people who think they are the Messiah. Many of them are pastors and priests.  These are those who are legends in their own minds. Those who believe that they are God's gift to the institutions and organizations they serve. Those who think they are indispensable, irreplaceable, and think that without them, all hell will break loose. 

I am pretty sure we all know people who have major messianic complexes.  Yet, our true calling is to bear witness to God's messiah and his liberating work. Just like John the Baptist.

If Jesus is the Great "I am" then John is the Great "I am not."

The religious leaders from Jerusalem ask John, "Who are you?" He responds: I am not the Messiah… I am not Elijah… I am not the prophet… I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness…"

Yes, like John we are not the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet.

We are called to bear witness to the messiah. And like John we are to do our witnessing in the wilderness. Not in the comfort and security of our own Jerusalems. Nor inside the four walls of our magnificent temples and imposing church buildings. Nor while we are seated in our air-conditioned offices with the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

Wilderness conjures up a lot of ambivalent images for us who study Scripture. God appeared to a hard-headed Moses through the burning bush in the wilderness. The Ancient Israelites wandered almost aimlessly in the wilderness for forty long years. Many of them died there, including Moses. Like John, the wilderness played a key role in Jesus's ministry.  In Mark, the Spirit had to force Jesus into the wilderness after his baptism. There, Jesus had to deal with Satan.

The wilderness is not a very hospitable place.

Yet, we are called to bear witness in the wilderness: in places we do not want to go; to those desolate areas we fear, and among communities—poor, odorized, and otherized—whom many call "God-forsaken."  To proclaim the good news of the incarnation--that God has not forsaken; that God is not in heaven anymore; that God is here with us; that God is One among us as we struggle for life, for dignity, for justice, for peace.

John prepared the way for Jesus. He was alone. And he was executed. This time around, we are more fortunate. John gave his life to prepare the way. And Jesus is already out there-in the wilderness--be it the slums of Tinajeros and Payatas, among the internal refugees of Mindoro, or with our displaced and dispossessed Lumad sisters and brothers in Mindanao, or our kin up in the Sierra Madre mountains...

So let us take every opportunity to be the best what we can be, to be ready.  Always ready.

Whatever and wherever our wilderness is, we need not be afraid. We are not alone. We are legion.  And Jesus is already out there waiting for us…. 

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

The Parable of the Stone Soup

This parable is not from Jesus but I have heard several versions of it from different countries.

A long time ago in a barrio far away came a very old woman. She was probably just passing by because she took the dusty road that bordered the small community. Because it was almost dark, she stopped by the roadside and began to build a fire. She took out an earthen pot from the bag she lugged around and, after filling it with water, set it over the fire. Out of the same bag she brought out a small river stone and a pinch of rock salt and put these in the pot. 

An old woman alone by the road is hard to miss. Soon children were upon her. “Lola (Grandma),” they asked, “what are you doing?” “I’m cooking soup,” she answered, “why don’t you join me?” They sure did and after a while there was a huge circle of children gathered around the fire as the old lady narrated stories about elves and fairies and dragons. It was late. It was dark and the children were still out so their parents began looking for them. They eventually found them with the old lady. “Lola,” they asked, “what are you doing?” “I’m cooking soup,” she answered, “why don’t you join me?” They sure did and after a while there was a huge circle of children with their parents gathered around the fire as the old lady continued telling stories of elves and fairies and dragons. 

“Lola, “ a mother volunteered, “I still have leftover meat at home. We can put it in the pot.” “We have vegetables we can add to the pot too!” another remarked. And so everyone brought back what they could and put these in the pot. Eventually, the whole community shared not just stories but a hot pot of soup that began with a cold river stone and a pinch of rock salt.

The world needs soup. But, the world does not need pre-cooked or instant noodle soup. The soup that can meet the world’s hunger, as Mother Mary John Mananzan puts it, is the soup we cook together. Each one contributing what each can. Because we are each other’s keepers. That soup could mean food for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, just wages for workers, homes for the homeless, justice for the oppressed, care for the sick and dying, land for the landless, liberation for those in bondage and captivity, solidarity with those whose only hope is God. 

Those of us who call ourselves Christian do not have the monopoly on soup. 

Cain was wrong, Jacob was wrong. We are each other’s keepers. We are—all of us—brothers and sisters. Kapatid, igsoon, kabsat. Kapatid is from Patid ng Bituka. We are all parts of one gut. We, all of us—Christians, Moslems, Jews, Buddhists, and those who are so unlike us—are family. God’s oikos.

Joan Baez’s song was right. It has always been right. No one is an island. No one stands alone. Each one’s joy is joy to me. Each one’s grief is my own. We need one another so I will defend. Each one is my sibling. Each one is my friend. 

Monday, November 13, 2017

The Shrewd Manager

There are so many ways this parable from Luke 16 has been interpreted.

Some work. Some do not. Especially those that insist that the rich master is a metaphor for God. The rich master is a rich master. Charges are brought against his manager or steward for dishonesty. Apparently, other managers want him out of the picture, thus the charges.

The manager, finding his position in jeopardy and knowing he cannot do manual labor and is ashamed to beg, does what anyone would do in his situation. Damage control. Find a way to make sure that he does not end up on the streets. He cuts his losses by literally cutting his commission.

What he does gets him his job back. His rich master commends him. And those in debt, less indebted.

This is the way things actually work. Then and now. That is why the rich are still rich. This is the way of empire. This is the complete opposite of the Kingdom of God.


Sunday, November 12, 2017

The Parable of the Five Loaves and Two Fish

There are so many people who imagine this story, which we find in all four canonical gospels, as an actual event in Jesus's ministry. There are those who argue that it is a parable. All the parables we have looked at so far are stories that Jesus told.

This one is different. It's a parable from the early church. Jesus is a character in the parable.

He sees the multitude hungry and, following the teachings of the Law and the Prophets, he tells his disciples to feed them. His disciples make up excuses. Send the crowd away. Let them feed themselves. We don't have enough funds to address the situation. The excuses then sound so much like our excuses today.

Then a young child, possibly 12 years old or younger, offers what he has. Five barley loaves and two fish. And the miracle of feeding of the 5000 begins.

Do not forget this. Ever. The bread and the fish that led to the feeding of the HUNGRY multitudes were offered by a HUNGRY child. Many times, God's liberating acts begin when one, just one we usually do not expect, takes that step forward, that leap of faith, that offering of bread and fish.

Friday, November 10, 2017

The Rich Man and Lazarus

Scholars tell us of two ancient stories that resonate with this parable of Jesus. One is Egyptian. The other rabbinical. The former is about the reversal of fortunes in the afterlife. The latter was about Abraham's servant Eleazar (Lazarus in Greek) who walked the earth in disguise to check on Abraham's children's observance of God's command to care for orphans, widows, strangers, and the poor.

In Jesus's parable Lazarus wasn't in disguise. He was so poor, sick, and starving that his plight was described by Abraham as evil. He was in such misery and dehumanizing state that his company was wild street dogs. He died and was not buried. Being buried is the last act of human decency that societies have practiced for millenia. Lazarus died and no one was around to bury him.

The rich man feasted every day. He died. He was buried. I'm sure in grand fashion. With scores of professional crying ladies.

Today, many people find dogs better company than their fellow human beings. Unfortunately, thousands still starve to death every single day. And one nation, which prides itself Christian, has enough resources to feed 40 billion people. That's 6 times the population of the world.



Thursday, November 09, 2017

The Two Debtors

Most of us know what debts and mounting debts do to people. Whether we are  talking about those who need to borrow their most basic needs, like rice and dried fish, from the village sari-sari store or the millions in our country whose livelihood depends on the 5-6 lending system, debts impoverish and dehumanize people.

And empire thrives on debt. Then and now. Thus it should not surprise us when the Jubilee (Leviticus 25) and Jesus's Prayer (Matthew 6 and Luke 11) both demand debt cancellation.

The Parable of the Two Debtors paints another picture of the situation of the majority in first century Palestine. The denarius represented subsistence wage. The amount enough for one person to survive for one day. One owed 500 denarii. That's bread barely enough to last a year and a half. Longer if one bought barley. The other owed 50, bread barely enough to last two months.

Both debts were cancelled. This is good news to the poor!

For people who live from one day to the next, then and now, the prayer has not changed: "give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts."




Monday, November 06, 2017

The Pharisee and the Tax Collector

Pharisees loved God and country, were very religious, highly trained, upright, (remember that Paul was a Pharisee), and totally against Roman Occupation.

In the parable, he was telling the truth. Everything he said in his prayer was true.

Tax collectors were probably the most hated people during Jesus’s time. They worked for Rome and were considered collaborators and traitors.

In the parable, everything he said in his prayer was also true.

Both men were truthful. What's the difference?

The tax collector judged himself and found himself needing God's mercy. The pharisee judged the tax collector and found the tax collector needing God's mercy.

Then and now, we all need God's mercy.



Sunday, November 05, 2017

The Parable of the Net

Farmers and fisher-folk made up the majority of the poor during Jesus’s time. Nothing has changed.

When Jesus called his first disciples, who were all fisher-folk, they were mending their nets.

Why? Because life was tough for regular fisher-folk under Roman Occupation. There were taxes on nets, taxes on boats, taxes on almost everything. Common folk had to shell out up to 55 percent of their income on taxes and tithes. And there were the huge trawlers. Nothing has really changed.

Fisher-folk know what drag nets do. You bring in everything the net catches to the shore. And you separate the catch. What can be eaten, what can be sold, what needs to be thrown back into the sea.

With practically no fish to catch, Jesus challenged them to be fishers of people. Fisher-folk know how to separate the catch. We have much to learn from them.

The Laborers in the Vineyard

Why do we always identify the rich landowner with God? Why do we call his actions acts of benevolence and grace? Why do we always take the side of the rich and the powerful?

And worse, why do we demonize the grumbling day laborers?

A denarius was subsistence wage. It could buy a measure of wheat. One day's worth for one person. Or three measures of barley, enough for three people for one day. Just bread. Nothing else.

During Jesus’s time, half of the population was slowly starving to death. During Jesus’s time 15% of the population were day laborers. They survived from one day to the next.

The Parable is not about God or God's grace. It's about the rich's greed. It's about divide and conquer. It's about taking advantage of those whose only hope is God. It's about the Consunjis, Cojuangcos, Sys, Tans, Gokongweis, and Ayalas of Jesus's time.

It's about the Gospel of the Rich.

Saturday, November 04, 2017

The Yeast

When we were very young, my siblings, cousins, and I enjoyed going to the bakery. (Actually I still do.) We would go very early in the mornings to watch the bakers do their thing. The smell of freshly baked bread is wonderful. We would be fascinated by how the dough rose as if by magic. I can imagine young Jesus and his friends doing the same thing. Fascinated by the rising dough as the bread was baked fresh in the village's shared oven.

Eventually we all learned it was not magic. It was yeast.

Archeologist have discovered bread with yeast that's over 4000 years old. Moreover, yeast is a living organism, breathing in oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide.

Just the tiniest amount is needed to bake bread. Like the tiniest amount of salt is needed to add flavor to food or to preserve it. Like the tiniest mustard seed grows big to offer shade and a home for birds.

Like what tiny tax collector Zacchaeus did. Giving half of his possessions to the poor and paying back four times everyone he cheated.



The Pearl and the Hidden Treasure

Most of you know these parables. Scholars call it twin parables. Wealthy men find things of immense value that "they sell everything they have" to possess the pearl for one, a hidden treasure for the other.

Pearls were most valued in Antiquity. Actually until the 19th century when diamonds replaced them.

The key to understanding the parables are the words inside the quotation marks. If you read your Bible, then you know those are the words Jesus says to the rich man who wanted to follow him. Sell everything you have, give the proceeds to the poor....

The rich man goes away sad. The rich men in the twin parables, after selling everything they had, go away joyful!

Jesus's challenge to the rich has not changed.

Friday, November 03, 2017

The Unforgiving Servant

Again, the king in the parable is not God. And the story is really not about forgiveness but imperial occupation. We often forget that Palestine was under Roman Occupation during Jesus's time. Before the Romans were the Greeks, the Persians, the Babylonians, the Assyrians... After the Romans came the Byzantines, the Early Muslim Dynasties, the Crusaders, the Later Muslim Dynasties, the Ottomans, the British, and now the Israelis.

For me the key to making sense of the parable is the ten thousand talents. That's about 30 billion pesos! When Rome conquered Palestine in 63 BCE, the taxes the empire required from its colony was ten thousand talents.

By the time of Jesus, Palestine has been under Roman Occupation for almost a hundred years. Exploitation was rampant and tax collectors were among the most hated in the land. And Rome executed up to 500 people daily to remind everyone that defiance was unacceptable behavior.

So the king cancels a huge debt which was not really owed. Then and now the powerful has records, books, and documents that show how much the powerless owe. And payment always requires more than what is owed.

And the servant who's supposed debt was canceled? He does exactly what the exploitative system has shaped him to do, be the face of the colonizer to the colonized. More often than not, the colonized never see the face of the colonizer. Only his agents who come from among the colonized.

Then and now the colonizer remains benevolent. Then and now America remains such to several generations of Filipinos. Then and now millions of Filipinos believe that the American occupation was a gift from God.

Read the parable again. The King comes out smelling like a baby's behind. The colonized are portrayed as seeking the king's favor. Classic divide and conquer technique.





Thursday, November 02, 2017

The Friend at Midnight

This parable, like the one about the widow and the judge, is also not about prayer.

It is midnight. Everyone, humans and animals, are indoors and asleep. A neighbor, a friend, gets a surprise visitor on a journey. Since everyone in the peasant village shared an outdoor oven, your friend knows you still have fresh barley loaves. He bangs on your door. Everyone in your house wakes up. Humans and animals. Probably everyone else in the village as well. He asks for bread. The bread you saved for your family. He imposes on your friendship in order to feed his visitor. A complete stranger to you. He shamelessly takes advantage of your friendship in order to fulfill everyone's obligation to welcome strangers. With a simple meal.

You respond. Giving him the three loaves he asked for and, actually, more than he asked for. And you don't do it because of your friendship. You do it because you would have done the same thing.

This is not a parable about prayer. It is the story behind a simple meal prepared to welcome a stranger in a peasant village. To this day, each and every meal that is offered to welcome a stranger in villages, in barrios, in far-flung sitios has a story to tell.





The Ten Girls

Your Bible will have a note saying  that some ancient manuscripts show the ten bridesmaids were waiting for the bride and the bridegroom.

Many times people read this parable like it were a wake. Like someone died. Like it's the end of the age. It's a wedding! And for communities then and now, it's about new beginnings. Moving forward.

The groom is not Jesus. The bride is not the church. The groom is the groom and the bride is the bride. And both were very late for their wedding. It happens.

The bridesmaids, all ten of them fall asleep waiting. Five were wise. Five were naive. Not foolish. The Greek supports the reading. And all ten girls were, yes, girls. About 12 years old.

Five were mature for their age and prepared. Five acted their age and did not. Those who prepared were not prepared to share. Those who did not prepare were afraid of the dark.

The bride and the groom were so used to locking doors at night. Force of habit. Remember, the banquet began way past midnight. They forgot it was their wedding, all are welcome, so doors need not be shut.

Everyone in the parable made mistakes. A wedding is a celebration of life. It's about new beginnings and moving forward.  There's no reason to be afraid of the dark. There's no reason not to share the little we have. And there's no reason to shut anybody out.

Wednesday, November 01, 2017

The Widow and the Judge

The parable is not about prayer. Most of the time we hear sermons that tell us that if we persist, like the widow, in prayer, pleading to God, then God, like the judge, will relent.

Stop imagining that the judge in the parable is God. He is not. He is a judge. An unjust judge actually. Like many in our country today.

And then there's the widow. One of the three most dispossessed people in Bible times (along with orphans and foreigners). Pleading for justice. Like so many in our country today. The thousands of widows caused by Duterte's War on Drugs. Tens of thousands of widows brought about by militarization, by large-scale mining, by human trafficking, by the US-led War on Terror, by powers and principalities fueled by greed and hate. All crying out, all relentless, all persistent in their quest for justice.

And the unjust judge relents. Not because he had a change of heart. The situation changed because the widow never gave up. Morning, noon, and night. Rain or shine. She was in his face. Standing her ground. She never lost hope. She fought for justice and justice prevails at the end.

Justice always prevails.

#RiseUpForLifeAndForRights
#JusticeIsOurPrayer
#StopTheKillings

The Lost Coin

A few months after Nanay was laid to rest we went through her things. It was very hard. We choked up when we found the bills she kept. A 50 here. A 100 there. Inside a book. Tucked in a blouse pocket hanging in her closet. Inside an old letter's envelope. In a bottle in the kitchen cupboard.

Like many Filipinos we lived from payday to payday and Nanay's "backup system," which so many use, helped keep us afloat.

This is why I love the Parable of the Lost Coin. The woman had ten coins. Each can buy a measure of wheat enough to feed one person. But only the rich ate wheat. Each can buy three measures of barley enough for three. Her ten coins were barely enough for her family to last ten days on barley. Just cheap bread.

And she misplaces one coin!  So she searches for it like her family's life depended on it. Because it did. And when she finds the coin, she celebrates with friends and neighbors.

Many among us forget that for so many people, then and now, shalom is actually one coin. Just enough to buy cheap NFA rice for one day.

Just enough to survive for one more day!

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

The Wedding Banquet

Why do we identify the King in the parable with God?

The King is a King. He is on top of an intricate system of honor and shame, patronage, property, and privilege. He is rich. He is powerful. He is benevolent. He hosts a banquet. His invitation is turned down. He is shamed. He gets back at those who shamed him.

He has them killed and burns down their city.

Then he gathers the dregs of society to his banquet. He finds one of the dregs not wearing the wedding robe which the King obviously provided (where do you expect the dregs of society to get clothes for a royal wedding?).  The King is a King. He is rich. He is powerful. He is benevolent but he has been shamed again! He has his minions bind the man, hand and foot, and thrown out to where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

We should stop identifying kings in the parables of Jesus with God.

The Wheat and the Tares

I’m sure most of us have heard a sermon about this parable. I’m pretty sure most of us heard a metaphorical or allegorical interpretation. I’m also pretty sure that most of us heard an interpretation of this parable that challenged us to be a good wheat.

Incidentally, only the rich could afford wheat bread in Ancient Palestine. The poor ate barley.

I want to focus on the weeds. Masamang damo! Or more appropriately, weeds or tares that look so much like wheat that Palestinians to this day call it “bastard wheat.” You can actually call this narrative the parable of the wheat and the bastard wheat!

The parable is akin to the one about sheep and goats. It's about judgment. God’s judgment. Not ours. There will be time to separate the wheat from the bastard wheat. In God’s time.

Why God? Because wheat and bastard wheat are actually sisters and brothers! God created both. So, God will judge. God will separate. Definitely no one else. Only God.

And since God is a God of surprises, God’s judgment will probably surprise both those who self-righteously think they are the good wheat and those whom the good wheat label as bastard wheat.

Tomorrow

Our youngest turns 21 tomorrow!

I was away when Ian was born. For the first six months of his life I was the voice in the micro cassette recorder his Nanay Gracie kept by his bed, the person on the pictures she posted on the wall by his head, the man who wrote the letters she read to him and his Kuya Lukas everyday.

The first time we met I was so nervous. I was afraid he'd think I was a stranger. I was wrong. When Gracie put him in my arms I sang him the lullaby he's heard me sing on tape. He fell asleep right away.

I will forever be thankful to Gracie, and to Lukas, as well, for making sure Ian knew me before we met each other face to face.

And we've been close ever since. When he was two, he fell in love with "Lay's" potato chips. When he was three he asked me why I hadn't written a song for him. I did one for Lukas when he was a baby. So, I wrote "This Song is about you, O Ian." When he was four, we started watching "To Kill a Mockingbird" almost every day. Like Lukas, Ian learned to read by reading the Bible. And he started writing his own Bible verses! His Lolo Mel used to share these verses at the Church Among the Palms when he was pastor there.

When he started kindergarten, Ian and I started walking to school together every morning. We did this almost daily until he finished high school. 11 years!  Ian calculated that we walked over 400 kilometers!

Lukas left the nest in 2010 when he started teaching at Diliman. He was 20. Gracie worked in South Korea in 2011, then taught in Indonesia from 2012 to 2015. Today, she's the National Coordinator of the UCCP's Christian Education Program and is based in Quezon City.

Ian moved to UP Los Baños in 2013. He's tried very hard to come home every weekend these past few years. And he texts me every single day. Thank you, son! You don't know how much I appreciate what you do.

November 1 is a holiday. It's All Saints Day. Families and clans will be together. Remembering their dearly departed.

Our family will also be together. Gracie is home. And so is Lukas. And, of course, Ian. We'll all be home. Rare these days. Happiness!

But tomorrow is extra special for us. Yes, it's All Saints Day but we'll be celebrating a birthday.

Our youngest turns 21 tomorrow!









Monday, October 30, 2017

The Lost Sheep

Shepherds are very important characters in the Hebrew Bible. Abel was a shepherd. So was Zipporah and her sisters. Moses and David as well. The Prophet Amos. There are more.

Unfortunately in Palestine during the Roman Occupation shepherds were despised and were in the lowest rungs of the social order with dung sweepers. Most of them day laborers, even the Gospel of John portrays them as unworthy hired helpers. The Gospel of Luke, on the other hand, tells us that shepherds were the first who received the good news about the birth of the Messiah. Matthew and Luke have the Parable of the Lost Sheep.

The parable talks about a shepherd. A hired help. The scum of society. He was given the responsibility to care for 100 sheep. And he does take care of each one of them. He searches for one who is lost. He celebrates with friends and neighbors when the lost is found.

He may be poor. He may not be hired tomorrow. But today he was given responsibility for 100 sheep. And 99 do not make 100.

Sunday, October 29, 2017

The Parable of the Great Surprise

Sheep and goats is a collective term. Most people cannot tell them apart. Especially sheep and goats in Asia and Africa. But shepherds know.

Blessed and cursed is a collective term. People, especially those who are so sure they are blessed, claim they know how to tell them apart. And they have Bible verses to prove it! Especially the blessed and the cursed in a world where 25000 children starve to death every day; where close to 6 billion people survive on 2 dollars a day; and where some people have 7 Mercedes Benzes because "God loves them so much God does not want them to experience vehicle coding."

But the Shepherd in the parable knows. Who are the real blessed ones and who are not. Not me. Nor you. Only the Shepherd knows how to separate them.

Those who were blessed did not expect to be blessed. And those who were not did not expect to be cursed. Their Bible verses did not help.

Every. One. Was. Surprised!

Don't forget this. Ever. God is a God of surprises!




Wednesday, October 25, 2017

The Parable of the Sower

The parable is not about soil. Nor is it a multiple choice question. Have you seen soil deciding to be either soil along the path, rocky, thorny or good soil?

The parable is about a sower. Then, like now, farmers were among the poorest of the poor. They had no land to call their own. Life was so hard half of the population was slowly starving to death. Life was so hard the average life expectancy was 28!

So they had to sow where it would take a miracle for the seed to actually grow. Along the path, among rocks, among thorns. And the seed that fall on good soil? The good soil owned by the rich, the powerful, and the privileged. They all grow, bringing a yield of thirty, sixty, a hundred fold. A bountiful harvest indeed. For the rich, the powerful, and the privileged.

Do not forget this. Ever. Parables are subversive speech. Parables got Jesus executed.


Monday, October 23, 2017

The Master’s House

Most of us know it by heart. Using the master's tools to dismantle the master’s house. That's why we learn the ways of the empire. That why we we are experts in imperial mimicry. That's why our institutions, systems, and structures seem to mirror the establishment's.

But we also know that the master's tools will never dismantle the master’s house; that many of his tools force a single truth upon a plural world; and that most of his tools are swords and spears which bring about peace. Peace based on victory in war.

This is why we turn his tools into our tools, beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks; why we tell both parables and myths; why we try to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves; why we preach good news to the poor and not to the rich; why we continue to drink from our own wells; and why we struggle with the masses to bring about peace. Peace based on justice.

If the only tool we use is a hammer, everything will look like a nail. This is why we sing, if I had a hammer, if I had a bell, if I had a song...

Difference is our strength. Diversity is our gift. It takes a village to raise a child. It also takes a village to tear down the master’s house.

Sunday, October 22, 2017

The Parable of the "Wicked" Tenants

Once upon a time there was an absentee landlord who planted a vineyard. He leased it to tenants and left for another country. When harvest came he sent slaves to collect his share of the produce. The tenants beat one, stoned one, and killed another. The landlord sends more slaves. The tenants treat them the same way as they did the first wave. Finally, the landlord sends his son. The tenants, seeing the son, said to themselves, “This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” So they seized the son and killed him.
Now, when the absentee landlord comes, what will he do to the tenants? He will put those wretches to a miserable death and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at harvest time.
The rich absentee landlord had every right to do what he did. He owned the land. He probably had the titles to prove that. He had a valid contract with the tenants. They broke the terms of the contract. And worse, killed his heir. The rich landlord had every right to kill each and every one who had a hand in his heir’s death. Everyone! At the end of the parable, the landlord was still rich. He still has slaves. He has new tenants. He has lost a son. But he has avenged his heir by destroying all the “wicked” tenants who had actually tried to seize his land for their own.
The rich, absentee, landlord is not God. The heir is not Jesus. The rich, absentee, landlord is a rich, absentee, landlord. Like the Cojuancos. The Consunjis. The Enriles. The heir is a landlord in training. He will eventually get the land. Then after him, his heir. Anyone who tries to seize the landlord’s property will be eliminated. 
Dispossessed farmers, peasants, tenants beware: if you collectively try to seize lands that belong to the rich, you and your kin will have a miserable death.

Render unto Caesar

Render unto Caesar what he owns. What bears his image. His property.
But never, ever, render unto Caesar what he does not own. People. Each one bears God's image. People are not property.

Saturday, October 21, 2017

JEEPNEYS AND REVOLUTIONS


Jeepneys, according to the Philippine Daily Inquirer, best represent the Filipinos’ on-the-spot survival instincts conditioned by centuries of desperate situations. Lest we forget, the “people” in People Power are the millions who face the violence of hunger every day, those who barely get the minimum wage. They are the “bakya” crowd, the “masa,” the “ochlos” in the Gospel of Mark. The late Luis Beltran, popular radio political commentator, called them “bubwit.” These are the millions who are underpaid, who are overworked, and who will never get a bank loan approved for a small house, a second-hand car, and yes, a 1.6 million electric jeepney!

These are the masses who patronize the 600,000+ drivers who drive over 200,000 jeepneys throughout the country every single day. Yet, these are the masses who overthrew Marcos and “Erap.” According to Teodoro Agoncillo, Renato Constantino, and Reynaldo Ileto, the “Revolt of the Masses” that overthrew Spain was exactly that—a revolt of the masses!

“No uprising fails. Each one is a step in the right direction.” Ileto memorializes this famous saying of peasant leader Salud Algabre in his Pasyon and Revolution. Algabre was one of the leaders of the anti-American Sakdal uprising in 1935. For me, what Salud Algabre ultimately does with that short yet profound statement is memorialize all those unnamed legions of freedom fighters that have been victimized by the violence of institutionalized forgetting. These include the indigenous communities of Igorots and Lumads, forcibly driven out of their ancestral domain, in the name of development, that now find themselves displaced in their own homeland. These include rural “messiahs,” like Hermano Pule and Macario Sakay, who led anti-colonial movements against Spain and America yet are marked as bandits and thieves in Filipino and American history books. (Incidentally, if you know your Greek, the “lestes”—rebels or freedom fighters—crucified with Jesus are called bandits and thieves in the English translations.)

And these would include jeepney riders—farmers, fisher-folk, students, women, those whose only hope is God—collectively struggling to dismantle structures of exploitation, marginalization, powerlessness, cultural imperialism, and systemic violence in all its forms.

Since the late 40s, jeepneys have been integral to the lives of many Filipinos who are not full participants in the economic system. Albert Ravenholt’s case study notes that jeepneys “relate so intimately to the daily life of Filipinos throughout the archipelago” yet government and financial institutions do not provide support of any kind to their manufacture and/or sale. Jeepneys are the masses’ response to the ravages of war.  They are the most concrete expressions of a people's capacity to beat swords into plowshares. Unfortunately, the Philippine Government has basically left public mass transportation systems in the hands of the private sector. Jeepneys, tricycles, pedicabs are the masses’ response to the government’s impotence and indifference.

Why is it that there’s practically no traffic in Metro Manila during Holy Week? Because public roads are free of private vehicles that cause all the traffic in the Metropolis. Heck, 80-90% of public roads are used by private vehicles, most of which have one passenger. Why was there heavy traffic during the October 16-17 Nationwide Strike against the jeepney phaseout? Again, because jeepneys do not cause traffic. Private vehicles do. And everyone in the LTO, DOTC, and LTFRB know this as true.

Raveholt continues, without establishment support, manufacturers, which are usually family operations, work on the kumpadre/kumadre system and seal deals with a handshake and palabra de honor. Young people who learn how to drive on jeepneys see jeepney driving as the best option for livelihood, given their very limited opportunities to find work elsewhere. With no credit schemes available from banks, these young Filipinos have no choice but to approach private money lenders who eventually, because of exorbitant interest rates, get to own the jeepneys themselves. Many work as OFWs and, after saving enough, come home to get their own jeepneys.

Ravenholt notes: “Jeepney drivers are so influential as molders of public opinion that successive attempts seeking to bar them from Manila’s main streets have been thwarted…In the twenty years or so that I have been involved in social activism in the Philippines, I have observed that the only thing that can paralyze the country’s business and government infrastructure, literally bringing everything to a halt is a jeepney strike.” 

No. Actually, there are two: a jeepney strike and a “People Power” uprising from the masses that ride jeepneys.

No other public vehicle is better equipped to navigate the Philippines’ narrow and dimly lit streets at night. No other person is better equipped to drive a jeepney at night than a Filipino. The people’s revolt that overthrew the US-supported Marcos dictatorship in 1986 began and ended at night. I was there, with about two million other folks, most of whom ride jeepneys.  Clifford Geertz reminds us: “Some of the greatest revolutions occur in the dark.”

#NoToJeepneyPhaseout


THE GOOD SHEPHERD

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