Mothers and Prophets

MOTHERS AND PROPHETS Oxnard United Church of Christ, 13 May 2012 Every time a child is conceived, God begins creating two miracles. Two: a new life and a mother. 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 gave us their mothers. I am here this morning to talk about two of these mothers… Let’s start with Hannah. Most of us here probably remember her story. 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 Chapter 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 here 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 and pray everyday, which I hope everyone in Oxnard does, then we will grow, grow, grow in the knowledge 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, 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 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? 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, I 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. Are we ready to do so? Did our mothers teach us to do so? For most of us, our mothers taught us how to care and how to share. They showed us how to live in love, how to pray. Our mothers taught us how to live through life’s pains. They showed us how to give our lives for our friends. Our mothers taught us how not to be afraid. Their love showed us that, whatever happens, we will never, ever, be alone. For many people, IMMANUEL, God-with-us, is actually spelled M O T H E R. Again, I ask: are we ready to offer our very best? Did our mothers teach us to do so? I believe they did. I know they did. Amen.

LAST WORDS...

LAST WORDS Last words are important to many of us. Famous last words include Rizal’s “Mi Ultimo Adios” and Antonio Luna’s “P___ -Ina!” The thousands among us who watched the coverage of FPJ's wake several years ago will remember the variety of remembrances of people who talked about his last words to them. My late mother's last words to me--when we were in the very cold Emergency Room of the Philippine Heart Center--were: "Anak mainit, paypayan mo ako." And, of course, the most famous last words ever memorialized would be Jesus’s Seven as found in the gospels: Mark and Matthew have one; Luke has three; and John has three. Many Christians do not read the Bible. We read books about the Bible and parts of the Bible. If the Gospels were movies, the way most of us “read” is akin to watching only parts of a movie, not the whole show. Now, who among us only watch parts of a movie or telenovela--5 minutes of Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows or 10 minutes of Amaya? The Gospels are complete narratives. I propose studying Jesus’s Last Words based on that fundamental assumption. In other words, if Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John were movies or telenovelas, then Jesus’s dying words play important roles in how the stories play out. Last Words-- Matthew If one reads Mark and Matthew from beginning to end, one will discover that both narratives privilege Galilee as locus of God’s activity. Most of Jesus’s healing, teaching, and preaching ministry happen in Galilee. In the Matthean and Markan narrative Jerusalem is bad news. Jesus is betrayed in Jerusalem. Jesus is arrested, tortured, and executed in the Holy City. Jesus dies in Jerusalem. One can even argue that God forsakes Jesus in Jerusalem, thus at the point of death he cries, “Eli, Eli lama sabacthani?” or “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Many of us who grew up in church and in Sunday school remember the countless number of Bible verses we memorized. Many of us hated the ritual. I know I did when I was growing up. We thought those verses were useless until something happened in our lives and then the verses suddenly took on a life all their own. The Jesus of Matthew was rooted in the Hebrew Scripture. At the lowest point in his life, near death, Jesus was not blaming God. He was quoting Scripture. Psalm 22 to be exact. I have witnessed people pass from this life to the life beyond and quite a few were quoting scripture. Remember that Matthew does not end with Jesus dying on the cross. The gospel ends with God raising Jesus from the dead. Psalm 22 begins with despair but ends with triumph and an affirmation of faith in a God who saves; a God who liberates. Especially the least among the least. Go and read it. Jesus’ last words in Matthew celebrate the promise of Immanuel. In life, in death, in life beyond death, we are not alone. God is with us. Always. Last Words—Mark In Mark, Jesus cries, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani” and dies. Unlike Matthew, the risen Jesus does not appear in the ending. Check your Bibles. The gospel ends in 16:8, where we find women silent and afraid. What we have in the story is a young man who tells the women that Jesus is going ahead of them to Galilee and will be waiting for them there. Jesus is not in the tomb. He is not in Jerusalem. He is not where we want him to be. He is back in Galilee where his ministry began and he is waiting for us there. And we are afraid. Why? Because we know that this path will eventually lead to the cross. We know that following Jesus will lead to suffering and, yes, death. Unlike Matthew, Luke, and John where we find beautiful stories of the resurrection—Jesus appears to Magdalene, to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, by the beach and eats breakfast with his followers, Mark offers a young man with a confirmation of a promise – Jesus is risen just as he told you. We do not see Jesus. We are told to believe he is risen. And it is only in going back to Galilee, in places we do not want to go, in ministering among the poorest and the most oppressed, that we will eventually find him. The last words of Jesus in Mark are dying words. The gospel does not end with Jesus’ triumphant words as a risen Lord but with a young man’s affirmation of God’s resurrection power: that hope is stronger than despair, that faith is greater than fear, that love is more powerful than indifference, and that life will always, always conquer death. Last Words—Luke Many Filipinos love the Gospel according to Luke. I read somewhere that our favorite parables are The Prodigal Son and The Good Samaritan. Both come from Luke. A lot of the scriptural support for the Roman Catholic Church’s theology of preferential option for the poor is based on Luke. God is definitely pro-poor in Luke. Jesus’s birth is announced to poor shepherds. Jesus's first sermon--which almost gets him killed--is a proclamation of good news to the poor. And this God who loves the poor so much is most often described as a loving parent. From Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, to Mary, the mother of Jesus, to the Father of the Prodigal Son who waited patiently for his son’s return, to Father Abraham who takes poor Lazarus into his bossom… the Gospel of Luke reminds us, offers us metaphors of God’s unconditional love as parent. At the cross, two of Jesus’s last three words in Luke are addressed to his father. Jesus says, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” If God is our parent and we are all God’s children, then we should ACT as brothers and sisters. This means not behaving like the older brother in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, or like the Rich Man in the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus. This means acting like the Good Samaritan who did not consider the wounded Jew as an enemy but as a brother. Jesus in Luke challenges his followers to love their enemies and to do good to those who hate them. Jesus set the example. We call ourselves Jesus followers but do we really follow? If Jesus is our "Kuya" then our words and our deeds should remind others of our "kuya." Bombing Afghanistan, invading Iraq, trampling on Philippine sovereignty in the guise of "visiting rights"-- are Jesus's brothers and sisters supposed to do these things? Jesus says to one of the criminals crucified with him, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” Filipinos are social creatures. The worst punishment for Filipinos is solitary confinement. Many Filipinos turn on radios and televisions when they are alone, not to listen or watch, but simply to create a semblance of community. God’s salvation is a community project. No one can be a Christian alone. When God saves, God saves communities and peoples. To celebrate the incarnation is to celebrate that God has left heaven to be with us. So no one lives and dies alone. God is with us. In the midst of death on the cross, Jesus reminds his fellow victim that he is not alone. Hindi siya nag-iisa. Then Jesus says, “Father, into they hands I commit my spirit.” Luke follows Mark and Matthew’s lead here. Jesus also quotes an Old Testament Psalm. In this case Psalm 31. It is also like Psalm 22, a Psalm of deliverance. Jesus believed in a God who will never forsake. And God does not forsake Jesus. Many of us pray Jesus's prayer before we sleep at night. We commit everything to God, yet we stay up all night thinking of so many things only God has control over. Let us follow Jesus. Even in death, he knew that he was safe in God’s hands. We are never alone. We will never be alone. Last Words—John If one reads the Gospel of John from start to finish one will discover that the story celebrates the discipleship of the unnamed. In other words, the most effective followers of Jesus in the story have no names. The Samaritan woman by Jacob’s well, who runs to her people to share her experience with Jesus, is unnamed. The young boy who offers the five loaves and two fish so that Jesus can feed over five thousand people is also unnamed. The beloved disciple who plays a role bigger than Peter’s in the story is also unnamed. But most important of all, the only disciple who we find at the beginning and at the end of Jesus’s life is also unnamed: Jesus’s mother. We find the two—Jesus’s mother and the beloved disciple—at the foot of the cross. Jesus says to them, “Woman behold your son; behold your mother.” Jesus asks that his two faithful disciples take care of each other. Love is the key theme of the Gospel of John. God became human because of love. The world is supposed to be blessed by our love for each other. Jesus in John leaves his followers only one commandment—for us to love one another as Jesus loved us. Mothers behold your sons; sons behold your mothers; parents behold your children; children behold your parents. We are members of the family of God and our primary task is to live in love for each other, like a family: each one willing to offer one’s life for the other. Then Jesus says, “I thirst.” Again, in the Johannine story, particularly in his conversation with the Samaritan woman, Jesus is the Living Water. Thus, many people find it puzzling that the one who says he is Living Water is suddenly thirsty. And he is given vinegar by his executioners. Like Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s quotations, John’s “I thirst” represents a quote from the Old Testament--Psalm 69. Faith draws strength from the past. Like Daniel’s three friends who faced death, yet believed in a God who will deliver them as God has delivered in the past, Jesus affirms the same unwavering faith in a deliverer God. And God did deliver Daniel’s three friends. And God delivered David (who wrote the Psalm). And Jesus believed God will deliver him, as well. Then Jesus says, “It is finished.” The End. Jesus is dead. Remember the only commandment Jesus left his followers in the Gospel of John—greater love hath no one than this, that one offers one’s life for another? Jesus does exactly that. His life was an offering. And we are challenged to do the same. At the beach Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Jesus… We are asked the same thing. Can we love as Jesus loved? Jesus was not alone when he faced the cross. And his last words on the cross affirmed his faith in God, in people, in the transforming power of love and life, and empowered him to face death. Psalm 22 which Jesus quotes in Matthew and Mark, Psalm 69 which he quotes in John, and Psalm 31 which he quotes in Luke celebrate a God who delivers, a God who liberates, a God who will always take the side of the poor and the oppressed, a God who will not forsake us. And God did not forsake Jesus. And God will never forsake us. (Preached at the Binan UCCP, Good Friday, 21 March 2008. Updated.)

Women and the Empty Tomb: Making Sense of Mark's Ending

Imagine you are part of the original audience of the Gospel of Mark. Christianity is about 40 or so years old. You are a second-generation believer. You believe, like many in your community, that Jesus has been raised from the dead. You believe, like many in your community, that he appeared to Peter, and then to many others, and then to Paul. Then, this short gospel comes along. It is disturbing. It does not have any stories of the risen Christ appearing to his disciples. Moreover, it ends with women at the empty tomb silent and afraid. You do not even shake the hands of the one who read the gospel. No one did in the whole congregation. Actually, even today, most people don't care about the Gospel of Mark. They would rather read Matthew, Luke, and John. These gospels end right--like Walt Disney movies. Matthew ends with the Great Commission and the Risen Christ's promise of Immanuel. John has the "Do you love me" cycle, and a beach scene to boot. Luke has special effects, Jesus ascending to the heavens. Mark's ending sucks! It is worse than the ending of Fernando Poe Jr.'s Sigaw ng Digmaan. He dies. FPJ is not supposed to die in any of his movies. If he does, he's supposed to resurrect (like in Panday III), or be shot after the credits (like in Sierra Madre), or have a twin brother somewhere (like in Probinsiyano). Some fans reportedly almost tear down a moviehouse where Sigaw... was showing. Mark's ending: women at the empty tomb, silent and afraid...Crap! Take a single verse in the Bible, say John 11:35 (“Jesus wept”). Take five biblical scholars using the same method for interpreting scripture, say redaction criticism. And what do you have? Five different readings. There is no such thing as a disinterested reading or reader. Interpretation is always perspectival and particular. Interpretation always involves choices. Take a popular character in serials, say Darna. Take five faithful followers of the show, including my youngest son, and ask them why nobody in the narrative recognizes Narda as Darna, and vice-versa. And what do you have? Five different reasons. Take Mark’s ending, 16:8 which reads, “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Check out your Bible. Most have a footnote on verse 8 that says ancient manuscripts end on this verse. Verses 9 to 20 are later additions—attempts of ancient communities to make sense of Mark’s ending. If you subscribe to the argument in synoptics studies that Mark was written first and both Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source document, then Matthew and Luke also provide endings that try to make sense of Mark’s. You find in your Bible then at least four or five different attempts at making sense of Mark 16:8. Two of the more popular attempts at making sense of Mark’s ending come from feminist interpreters. The first one, a historical-reconstructionist perspective, argues that the women did not remain silent and afraid. How could the gospel ever spread if the first witnesses remained fearful and quiet? The second one comes from the literary perspective. Jesus’s followers drop the ball. The men drop it first. And then the women. The Markan Jesus tells his disciples God will raise him up several times in the narrative. The men don’t believe him. The women came to the tomb to anoint a dead body, to celebrate a fallen comrade’s life by anointing him in death. They did not go there to welcome a Risen Lord. How about us—the text’s present readers—will we also drop the ball? If Mark were a movie, it definitely does not end like a Walt Disney movie. It’s open-ended, much like the book of Jonah. The narrative ends at 16:8 with women silent and afraid. I propose the following readings that try to make sense of that ending. “Watch” the “movie” we call Mark. One can argue that its major theme is suffering-- vicarious suffering to be exact. Its lead character inaugurates a mass movement that begins in Galilee. When the movement eventually reaches the power center of Jerusalem, its leader is executed. Then the young man at the tomb tells the woman that their leader has been raised, and is waiting for them in Galilee, where everything started. And the cycle begins again. His followers are to follow the same path as their leader—the path of vicarious suffering. Wouldn’t you be afraid and silent? “Watch” the movie we call Mark again. If one focuses on its major characters, one discovers quite fast that most of them are men. Jesus’s disciples are all men until you get to the crucifixion scene, almost at the end, where, like an afterthought, the narrator tells the audience that Jesus had women disciples. Listen to the young man’s pronouncement at the empty tomb—it’s for the men. The risen Christ is supposed to meet the men in Galilee. The women has had enough of this “all men program.” Tama na. Sobra na. Palitan na. Wouldn’t you be afraid and silent when you realize the repercussions of saying “enough” to patriarchy and androcentrism? If one puts “the vicarious suffering cycle” reading with the “all-men-program” reading together, you’ll have women—by their collective act of disobeying the young man at the tomb-- saying “enough” to the cycles of violence that ultimately always victimize women and children. Now, wouldn’t you be afraid and silent? A reading of Mark focused on the disciples would soon show that, more often than not, they cannot understand what Jesus does and what he says. Over and over Jesus has to explain his words and his acts. In chapters 8, 9, and 10, Jesus tells them about his suffering and his resurrection, and they misunderstand him. The narrative ends with women coming to the tomb to anoint a dead body. No one among Jesus’s named disciples believed that he will rise again. But one woman in the whole narrative does believe. Read Mark 14. There an unnamed woman gate-crashes a party for Jesus and anoints him with expensive oil. And Jesus says that what she has done will be told in remembrance of her. What did she do? She did an act of faith. She believed Jesus. She anointed Jesus’s body for burial because there would be no body to anoint later. There would only be an empty tomb—as the named women disciples discover when they came with their anointing oils. Only one person in the entire gospel believed that Jesus will be raised up. One unnamed woman believed in the power of the resurrection. To believe in the resurrection is to believe that goodness will always triumph over evil; that hope is stronger than despair; that faith will drive away all fear; that love is greater than indifference; and that life will always conquer death. Now, if you are one of the many who did not believe Jesus and suddenly the one you thought was dead has been raised and is waiting for you in Galilee, wouldn’t you be afraid and silent? (updated 8 March 2012)

NO ROOM?

The first Christmas: we re-enact it almost every December. In our school plays and our church pageants. 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, shepherd, even the Little Drummer Boy in some of our plays, and then the magi bringing gifts. Incidentally, in one TV spot, one of the magi brings the Baby Jesus the newest Android Smartphone. In a painting going around in our social networks, the magi cannot visit Jesus because an apartheid wall blocks their path. Our plays usually 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. And 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.” 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. 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 stranger, the orphan, the widow… the thousands left homeless and devastated in the Visayas and Mindanao by the tragedy we call Sendong; the thousands victimized by years of unabated mining, logging, and deforestation. Today, we are called to have open hearts, open homes, open doors…

Sunday Homily... An Invitation

An Invitation from Galilee Most of us love stories with surprises. The women in Mark 16: 1-8 were in for a few surprises themselves. They went to the tomb that early Sunday morning bringing spices to anoint Jesus’ body worrying about the stone blocking the tomb. Unlike the many doors in our homes and churches and buildings—with its specific locks and, even, numeric codes—the women had no key to unlock the door. The women expected a locked tomb, they expected a dead body inside, and they expected to use the spices they brought to anoint that dead body. But, and we all know this already, when they got there the stone had already been rolled away, the tomb was empty, there was no dead body to anoint—Jesus was not where they expected him to be. Like the women at the tomb, we want Jesus in a box, with a lock, where we could do whatever we want to do with him. Moreover, like the women we expect Jesus to be in Jerusalem. Jerusalem, in Mark, is supposed to be a holy place. It is where God is supposed to be. It is a monument to faith and the faithful. Do not forget this—the women went to the tomb expecting a dead Jesus. Over and over in the Markan story, especially in chapters 8, 9 and 10, Jesus told his followers that he will rise to life. Jesus’ followers did not believe him. They went to the tomb to visit a dead person. Dead people have no power over us. Sure we visit their graves once or twice a year. For many Christians, churches have become tombs—where they visit Jesus an hour or two once a week. A dead Jesus has no power over us; he cannot make demands on our lives, on our work, on our time, our talents, our treasures, our plans and commitments. A dead Jesus is a safe Jesus. But alas, Jesus is not dead and he is not where we want him to be. He is risen. And he is not in heaven nor is he in Jerusalem nor in the exclusive elitist clubs we call churches. He is back in Galilee—where we don’t want him to be, among the sick, the poor, the demon-possessed, the marginalized. He is back in Galilee along the path that ultimately led to his crucifixion, along the path that ultimately led to the offering of his life. And he is already there waiting for us. Waiting for us to walk the same path and offer the same offering. Do we have the faith and the heart to go and meet Jesus in Galilee? Do we?

The International Day of the Disappeared and the Empty Tomb

We, who call ourselves Christian, should not forget that the One we call Lord and Liberator was an Executed God. He was abducted in the dead of night, unjustly tried, beaten, tortured, and executed between two rebels. Then his body was thrown into a borrowed grave. In the Gospel of Mark, at dawn on Sunday three of his disciples, all women, visit the grave to anoint his dead body. They find the grave empty. There was no body. Jesus had disappeared.

The Gospel of Mark ends with the women described as silent and afraid. Jesus had disappeared.

Today, August 30 is the International Day of the Disappeared. We are invited to stand in solidarity with friends & families of the missing who continue to seek justice, and in remembrance of the thousands of desaparecidos in the Philippines, in many Third World countries, and around the world.

Like the women at the tomb, many of us are silent and afraid. Like the women in the tomb, we want to find The Disappeared. We want to find them alive. Or if they are dead, we want to find their bodies. We want to anoint them with fragrant oils. Maybe build a monument or set up a memorial for them. We want closure.

But the message of the young man in the empty tomb is as real today as it was thousands of years ago… Jesus is not in the tomb. He is risen. He is in Galilee… Waiting for you.

We believe in the resurrection. We believe that good will always triumph over evil; that faith is stronger than fear; that love is greater than indifference; and that life will always, always conquer death… We also believe that The Disappeared will rise again in tens, in hundreds, in thousands who fight and struggle for justice, for peace, for liberation. The Disappeared are not here. Like Jesus, they are risen. They are in Galilee where the good news is preached to the poor, where the hungry are given food, where liberation is proclaimed to the captives…

The Disappeared are waiting for us.

The Pais, Onesimus, and a Canaanite Mother

In the Gospels of Matthew and Luke we find a story about a rich military officer, a centurion, who came to Jesus seeking healing for his sick slave. Jesus gave him his wish. Restore things back to where they were before. A sick slave is worthless to his master. A sick slave, so sick he is paralyzed, has no use to his owner. Almost every time this story is preached Jesus or the centurion gets to be the hero. We do not hear the voice of the sick slave. We do not even know his name. We do not know why he was sick or why he was paralyzed. We only know what his owner, what his master said.

Then and now, nothing has changed. The voices we hear are those of the owners, the masters, the rich, and those in power. Nothing has changed. They tell us that their slaves are indolent; that they are weak and sickly; that they are not trustworthy; that they are thieves; that they ran away; that they have no sense of indebtedness or gratitude; and, when their slaves die, owners, masters, the rich, and the powerful tell the world that they committed suicide.

The slave, pais in Greek, in the Gospels was a child, possibly twelve years old. Many of us do not know that he was a child slave. Then and now, it is possible that the reason why he was sick, the cause of his paralysis was his master. It is possible that he was beaten, maltreated, abused, and even raped.[1] But we do not hear his voice or his cries. We do hear Jesus’ and the centurion’s.

In St. Paul’s letter to Philemon there is another slave. Onesimus. We also do not hear him speak. He was a runaway. Countless interpreters of this story tell us that Onesimus, more than a runaway, was a thief. He was useless. He had no sense of gratitude. Almost every time this story is preached Paul or Philemon gets to be the hero. No one, ever, takes Onesimus’ side.

If we read the story, and read centuries’ worth of stories about this story, Onesimus is described as a tool, a commodity, an object. According to Paul, Onesimus was once useless; now, that he had become a Christian, he was useful. Profitable. Before he was just a slave; now he was a Christian; now he was a super slave. Hyper doulon in Greek.

Millions of people worldwide treat Filipinos as super slaves; because we are Christian. As such we can bear more pain. We can endure. Because we know English we can be cursed, belittled, humiliated, and treated like dogs in a language we understand.

The education system in our country is imperial. This began over a century ago when, during the American occupation of the islands, the first General Superintendent of Education commented that, “The Filipino people, taken as a body, are children and childlike, do not know what is best for them… by the very fact of our superiority of civilization and our greater capacity for industrial activity we are bound to exercise over them a profound social influence.”[2] Every day, in our schools, we prepare our children to become tools; we equip them to remain children and childlike and thus become slaves to the world.

Who benefits from all these? Who defines who are “useful” and who are “useless”? Why are the lives of the oppressed and marginalized getting worse? Why are the poor getting poorer? Every single day, over four thousand of our fellow Filipinos go abroad to look for work: work that barely pays the minimum wage. Why? Onesimus is alive. The pais is alive. Millions are like them; struggling to survive in foreign lands. And their numbers grow every day. Many of them are sick. Many are so sick they cannot walk. Many have run away to escape inhuman treatment and harrowing conditions. Many will never see the Philippines again.

President Aquino is not the answer to our cries for justice. Not his administration. Not the masters. Not the rich. Not the powerful.

In the Gospels of Matthew and Mark we find a story about a mother, a foreigner, a Canaanite who came to Jesus. Her daughter was sick. She was probably twelve years old too: like the pais, like the centurion’s slave. She begged Jesus for help. She was initially ignored. She was a foreigner. She was even treated like a dog. Yet she persevered. And she persisted. And because she persevered, because she persisted, she got what she came for: her child was healed. Even if she was humiliated, even if she was not taken seriously, even if she had to beg, even if she was treated as second-class, she got what she came for: a healing for her child. And she was the “little bitch” who she taught Jesus a lesson.

Like the mother who persisted and persevered, we are the answer to our prayers. We are the families split apart when loved ones leave for abroad. We are the families who have to bear the loneliness and the pain of separation. We are the parents whose children are buried in foreign lands. We are the children whose parents are taken away from us. We are the poor, the marginalized, those treated like dogs, those whose voices are never, ever, heard. We are the mothers who will do anything and everything for our children’s welfare. We are the fathers who will storm the gates of hell to get our children back home safe. We are the children whose outrage will break the silence of heaven. We will make sure that God hears our mourning, our anger, and our collective cries for justice.

Let us come together. Let us struggle as one: for justice, for dignity, for life, for liberation. We are the answer to our prayers.

[1] Like Rosario Baluyot.

[2] Atkinson quoted in Daniel B. Schirmer, “The Conception and Gestation of a Neocolony,” The Journal of Contemporary Asia, Vol 5. No. 1, 1975, 43-44.

Dancing, Women, and Prophets

The oldest Christian tradition, quite possibly formulated within the first decade from Jesus’ crucifixion, is the Christological hymn that Paul quotes in Philippians 2: 5-11. Hebrew Bible scholars agree that the oldest tradition from Ancient Israel, quite possibly already circulating a generation or two from the Exodus event, is found in the book of Exodus. Chapter 15: 20-21 to be exact. Let me read it in its entirety….
Then Miriam the prophet, Aaron’s sister, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women followed her, with timbrels and dancing. 21 Miriam sang to them:
“Sing to the LORD,
for God is highly exalted.
Both horse and driver
God has hurled into the sea
This passage, over three thousand years old, challenges many of our most cherished practices and traditions. First, the main characters in this oldest poem are women. Not men. Second, their faith expression is dancing, not preaching. Third, their leader is a prophet, not a priest; a woman, not a man; Miriam, not Moses.
Let me say it again: In this most ancient Old Testament account, we have women, we have dancing, and we have a prophet, Miriam. Dancing is one of the oldest forms of worship. Dance is a language of faith. Melinda Grace Aoanan once said: “To sing to to pray twice. To dance, on the other hand, is to pray three times!” To dance is to celebrate the cycles and circles of life. To dance is to offer thanksgiving for babies born and loved ones departed, for bountiful harvests and sweet-smelling rice, for dreams realized and abundant life for all. To dance, in Miriam and the women’s case, was to celebrate God’s liberating acts. DANCE IS A LANGUAGE OF FAITH.
Remember this, my friends. A people enslaved for centuries find themselves free. Yahweh had delivered them. God had heard their cries. God had come down to liberate them. God had accomplished what God had promised. And what is the first thing they do to celebrate their deliverance? THEY DANCE.
God continues to deliver people from bondage. God continues to liberate those who are imprisoned. God continues to hear the cries of the poor and of those whose only hope is God. And what are we supposed to do to celebrate God’s continuing liberating acts?
WE DANCE.

For the Student Christian Movement at 50...(December 11, 2010 at UP CRL)

If we read our Bibles and pray everyday, we will grow, grow, and grow in the knowledge that there are two kinds of sermons in the New Testament that can get one killed. Both we find in Luke’s work. In Acts, Paul preaching goes on and on and on that eventually Eutychus, a young person sitting by the window, falls asleep and falls to his death. In Luke, Jesus preaches a “gospel for the poor and liberation for the captives” in Nazareth, before his town mates, and almost gets killed for doing so.

As you celebrate your 50th birthday as a progressive movement of Christian students, let me remind you of the SCM’s favorite bible passage.

Jeremiah 1:7-10
1:7 The LORD said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ But go to whomever I send you and say whatever I tell you. 1:8 Do not be afraid of those to whom I send you, for I will be with you to protect you,” says the LORD.1:9 Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, “I will most assuredly give you the words you are to speak for me. 1:10 Know for certain that I hereby give you the authority to announce to nations and kingdoms that they will be uprooted and torn down, destroyed and demolished, rebuilt and firmly planted.” This is the kind of message, then and now, that can get the messenger killed.

So, Jeremiah’s reaction to God’s call was natural. When he said, “I am too young,” he meant more than his age. He was afraid. Jeremiah’s mission was to proclaim judgment and redemption. He was to announce to nations and kingdoms that they will be uprooted and torn down, destroyed and demolished, rebuilt and firmly planted. Do not forget, Jesus was almost killed when he preached his first sermon. It was natural to be afraid. Even Moses was afraid when God called him to deliver God’s people from bondage. Jeremiah’s message to nations and kingdoms still stand. Moses’ call to liberation is as important as it was 3 thousand years ago. And Jesus’ message of good news to the poor, the one that eventually led to his arrest, torture, and public execution, is as vital and as relevant as the first time it was preached.

Sixty-two years and one day ago, in a rare moment of grace, humanity came together and proclaimed that the inherent dignity and the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family serve as the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world; that it is essential, if humans are not to be compelled to have recourse, as a last a resort, to rebellion against tyranny and oppression, that human rights should be protected by the rule of law; that all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights; and that they are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood/sisterhood. We pledged our collective commitment to these declarations.

Moreover, sixty-two years and one day ago we proclaimed that no one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment and that no one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile. Sixty-two years ago, humanity pledged “never again” to the injustices wrought on the poor, the marginalized, the oppressed, and their children, and we declared “enough!” to the inhumanities effected by emperors, kings, and their ilk.

Unfortunately, sixty-two years and one day later, there are still emperors, and kings, and rulers who wield power over life and death. There are still sons and daughters whom these kings order to be tortured and killed. There are still countless and nameless sons, daughters, husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers who are abducted, never to be seen again. Everyday, in our country, in Palestine, in so many parts of our world, daughters and sons, many not even 12 years old, are violently taken away from their loved ones: snatched, imprisoned, and violated.

Sixty-two years and one day later, there are still young children who are arrested in the dead of night for throwing stones at tanks and armored personnel carriers. There are still rural health workers who are illegally detained and branded as communist bomb-makers for working among the poorest of the poor in the most far-flung barrios. And there are still bishops, pastors, deaconesses, and youth leaders whose bodies are impaled for opening their homes, their hearts, and their lives to those whose only hope is God.

Today, December 11, 2010, is exactly sixty-two years and one day later. The emperors and kings are still alive. Their empires and kingdoms still stand. But so is Jeremiah. So is Moses. And Miriam. And Deborah. And Jesus. They were alone in the biblical text. Right now, today, in our context, they are not. They are legion. They are alive in the Student Christian Movement. As they have been for the past fifty years.

Emperors and kings have the power to kill. But God's power is greater than death. The empire can kill Bishop Alberto Ramento but God can raise up ten more to take his place. Kings and rulers can kill Edison Lapuz and Eden Marcellana but God can raise up one hundred to take their place. For every prophet whose blood is spilled for love of country, for serving the people, for ministering to those whose only hope is God, God will raise up a thousand more...

Give Us This Day our Daily Bread...

The different religious groups in Palestine in the first century, like many groups today, were known by the prayers they offered. Jesus’ disciples wanted the same thing so Jesus obliged. If we read our Bibles then we know that Luke’s Jesus prayed a lot. But Jesus’ prayers, and the prayer he taught his disciples, were not individualistic, pietistic supplications. They were community prayers; prayers on actualizing God’s reign on earth. In the Gospel of Luke and its sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, the test of one’s relationship with God was proven by one’s relationship with people, especially the poor, the orphans, and the widows; those whose only was God. The test of one’s love for God is proven by one’s love for one’s neighbor.

When Luke’s Jesus prays, “Give us this day our daily bread,” he was lifting up a peasant’s petition for today’s food, echoing the farmer’s prayer for daily sustenance in the book of Proverbs; he was mouthing the hope of the dispossessed farmers for land and the dream of the daily wage earners for justice; he was also declaring explicitly whose side God was on.

When Luke’s Jesus prays, “Give us this day our daily bread,” he does not expect the powerful landlords of his time to distribute the lands they have amassed; he does not expect the Roman or Jewish courts to pass laws that protect the poor and the dispossessed; he does not expect the rich to sell everything they have, give the proceeds to the poor, and follow him…

When Luke’s Jesus prays, “Give us this day our daily bread,” he celebrates the peasants’ sharing of the little they had, even rising at midnight to give three loaves of bread to a persistent friend in need; he affirms poor communities’ capacity to share meals and all things in common, selling their meager possessions, and distributing the proceeds to all, as they had need; he believes that God’s reign has come and God has chosen to reveal it among shepherds, among the poor, the imprisoned, and the oppressed…

We, those who take pride in calling ourselves Christian, do not have the monopoly on bread. The bread that can meet the world’s hunger is the bread we cook together. Each one contributing what each can. Because we—Christian or not—are each other’s keepers.

God’s shalom is food for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, just wages for teachers and laborers, decent homes for the homeless, justice for the oppressed, care for the elderly, the sick and the dying, land for the tenants of Hacienda Luisita and millions of other dispossessed farmers, freedom for the Morong 43 and other political prisoners, solidarity with those whose only hope is God.

Last Monday, July 26, many of us were given the privilege to join those whom God has chosen to side with: the farmers, the fisherfolk, the laborers, indigenous peoples, the masses… outside congress for the People’s SONA. They taught us a lot. We still have much to learn from them. They will teach us how to cook bread for the world, together. They will teach us how to struggle for life, for justice, for liberty, and for land.

More importantly, they are the only ones who can really show us what it means to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.”

FOR PNOY: FREE THE 43; FREE IN 43

Among the Priest, the Levite, and the Samaritan who chanced upon the wounded Jew on the road connecting Jerusalem and Jericho (in Luke 10: 30-37), the Samaritan was the one who showed mercy, the one who was neighbor to the person who was left half-dead, the one who stopped and helped a brother in need. That is why we call the Samaritan Good. He did what God’s Law required. He did what Jesus commanded. But more importantly, he did what sisters and brothers do for one another.
Like the Morong 43. We call health workers Good Samaritans. We even have Good Samaritan Hospitals to celebrate what they do for the sick, for the wounded, for the ill, for those whose only hope is God. Community-based health workers, most especially, minister to the “least among Jesus’ sisters and brothers.”
Thus, the Morong 43’s illegal arrest last February, their imprisonment, the torture many of them have experienced, the harassment they have endured, the lies that the military spun about them during the last months of the Arroyo regime, and their continuing illegal detention under the Aquino administration have driven countless people to exclaim, “Only in the Philippines are Good Samaritans demonized and victimized!”
This madness should stop now. This gross violation of human rights must end now. Senator Ninoy Aquino Jr. was illegally detained by the Marcos dictatorship for several years. Vowing to end political repression, President Cory Aquino, released all political prisoners during the early days of her term.
We call on President Noynoy Aquino, in honor of his late parents, Ninoy and Cory, to order the release of the Morong 43 and all political prisoners. We call on PNoy to order their release as part of his First State of the Nation Address on July 26, 2010.
If he does not order their release on Monday, we call on people of faith everywhere to begin a 43-day prayer chain to start the same day. We will pray for each of one of the Morong 43 in each of those 43 days. We will pray and hope and demand that they be set free on July 27. If they are not, we will pray for their freedom on July 28, and on July 29, and the next day… On each of those 43 days, we will pray that God give PNoy the wisdom, the humility, and the courage to do what is just and what is right. And on the 43rd day, on September 6, 2010, we will hold thanksgiving rites to celebrate the release of the Morong 43 and the release of all political prisoners.
43 days of prayer:
for each of the Morong 43;
for freedom for the Morong 43;
for PNoy to do what is just and what is right.
Again, we call on President Noynoy Aquino to honor the memory of his late parents.
Free the Morong 43. Free all political prisoners.

Bad News for Good Samaritans

If we read our Bibles and pray every day, we will grow, grow, and grow in the knowledge that serving God and serving our neighbor is actually one commandment. This is explicit in Luke 10. If God is our parent, as Jesus taught us, then we are family—Kapamilya at Kapuso—we are sisters and brothers. God’s question to Cain, found in Genesis, remains the same—“Where is your brother? Where is your sister?”

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow—our primary task, no, our primary responsibility as a child of God is to be each other’s keepers. The only way to serve God our Parent is to serve God’s children, is to love our brothers and sisters. This is the surprise of the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats in Matthew 25. This is the message of the Johannine gospel and epistles. This is the heart of the Letter of James. This is the gist of the Law according to Paul as found in Romans 13:9 and Galatians 5:14.

This is the point of the Parable of the Samaritan. Among the Priest, the Levite, and the Samaritan who chanced upon the wounded Jew on the road connecting Jerusalem and Jericho, the Samaritan was the one who showed mercy, the one who was neighbor to the person who was left half-dead, the one who stopped and helped a brother in need.

That is why we call the Samaritan Good. He did what the Law required. He did what Jesus commanded. But more importantly, he did what sisters and brothers do for one another. Like the Morong 43. We call health workers Good Samaritans. We even have Good Samaritan Hospitals to celebrate what they do for the sick, for the wounded, for the ill, for those whose only hope is God.

Community-based health workers, most especially, minister to the “least among Jesus’ sisters and brothers.”

Thus, the Morong 43’s illegal arrest, their continuing illegal detention, the torture many of them have experienced, the harassment they endure, and the lies that the military has spun about them have driven a shocked world to ask, “Has the Arroyo administration gone mad?” Only in the Philippines, under this morally bankrupt administration, are Good Samaritans demonized and victimized.

This madness should stop now. If there is a hell, then Arroyo and her minions do not deserve to go there. They deserve worse.

The World Needs Soup

Poverty: Bane or Blessing of Ecumenical Relations
Maryhill Mission Lectures, 25 May 2009

"...When Jacob had cooked soup, Esau came in from the field and he was famished; and Esau said to Jacob, 'Please let me have a swallow of that red stuff there, for I am famished.' Therefore his name was called Edom. But Jacob said, 'First sell me your birthright.' Esau said, 'Behold, I am about to die; so of what use then is the birthright to me?' And Jacob said, 'First swear to me"; so he swore to him, and sold his birthright to Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil soup; and he ate and drank, and rose and went on his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright." (Genesis 25: 29-34)

The World Needs Soup

The world needs soup. Unfortunately, millions of people cannot even have or afford a decent cup of hot soup. Many in this country are so poor they gargle water for breakfast, take hot water for lunch, and force themselves to sleep at night in place of supper. Mas emphatic sa Tagalog: Marami tayong kababayan na mumog ang agahan, nilagang tubig ang tanghalian, at tulog ang hapunan.

Kailangan ng mundo ang sopas. When Esau, in the Genesis text above, came to his brother, he was close to death. And he asked for soup. For billions of dispossessed people today who struggle against death forces everyday, John 10:10’s ”abundant life” is soup. When our sisters and brothers’ homes and livelihood are destroyed by flash floods, our relief operations bring soup. When we offer feeding programs to our malnourished grade school children, we bring them soup. When our churches and church-related institutions welcome the homeless and street-children into our “soup kitchens,” guess what we offer them?

But as Matthew 25: 31-46 and Luke 4: 18-19 remind and challenge us, soup is more than food for the hungry and drink for the thirsty. It is also just wages for workers, homes for the homeless, justice for the oppressed, care for the sick and dying, welcome to the stranger, land for the landless, liberation for those in bondage and captivity, solidarity with those whose only hope is God.

The United States of America has resources to feed 40 billion people. That figure is six times the current population of the world, yet, according to UNICEF 25,000 children—5 years old or younger—die each day due to poverty. UNICEF estimates that it will only take 6 billion dollars annually to make sure that every one on earth receives basic education. It will take 9 billion dollars each year to make sure that everyone gets safe water and sanitation. 12 billion dollars a year would ensure that all women will receive reproductive health services, while 13 billion will ensure that each human being will receive basic health care. Yet, we know that three out of every four people in the world survive on 1 dollar or less than 50 pesos a day. The world—especially that larger part of the world that calls itself Christian—apparently does not prioritize or find important to allocate funds, services or resources to provide the “soup” for food, education, and basic health care.

Consider these figures: The United States spends 8 billion dollars each year on cosmetics. Europe spends 11 billion a year on ice cream. The US and Europe spend 12 billion annually on perfume and 17 billion a year on pet food. Japan spends 35 billion annually on business entertainment. Europeans spend 50 billion a year on cigarettes and 105 billion on alcoholic drinks. And, most unfortunate of all, the world spends 780 billion each year on weapons of mass destruction, on the most effective and efficient implements to kill people.1

And to bring these figures closer to home: Filipinos spend 7 billion pesos a year on whitening soap. Pitong bilyong piso taon-taon ang ginagastos natin para sa sabong pampaputi.

What Ecumenism?!
Over half a century ago, in Prapat, the very first regional ecumenical organization, the East Asia Christian Conference, was organized. At that time many in the West seemed against the conference that brought together ecumenical leaders from Asia and Africa who were united against colonialism and Western hegemony. Prapat become a landmark in Asia’s ecumenical history as it set out to overcome the West’s domination of the ecumenical journey. Prapat made clear the direction that the Asian churches intended to take: to become the subjects, not objects, of ecumenical history. The united declaration was “working together for our common task.”
Unfortunately, the Congress of Asian Theologians’ meeting in Chiangmai in 2004 noted that Asia, almost 50 years after Prapat, remains “dependent on financial support from mother churches in Europe or America, and that the present state of ecumenism and the churches in Asia reflect the fragmentation of these churches and their limited, exclusive theologies. It is ecumenism tending towards stagnation and the protection of the status quo of churches in the Pax Americana. D. T. Niles’ “Christianity as a potted plant” in Asia is, today, actually more of a transplanted forest! Ecumenism in Asia has become an “us” and “them” affair.2

Laura Donaldson, a Cherokee, writing in Semeia 75 convicts us when she asked, “What civilization invented the most brutal system of conquest and exploitation the world has ever known? Christian. Who made slavery the basis for capitalist expansion? Christians. What religion has been the most responsible for the genocide of aboriginal peoples? Christianity. In my view, the Christian church has a much more substantial record of pure evil than any final good.”

The first one thousand years of Christianity was one millennium of war and destruction in the name of Jesus Christ. And those “civilizing missions” have not stopped. Even today, the most oppressive and dehumanizing societies are led by “Christian” centurions who have no qualms maiming and destroying those who are not “one of them.” And we know at least two of these Christian “centurions.” One was in the White House for two terms. The other is still in Malacanang.

The July 2006 Manila Declaration3 of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches says:

Western Christianity has been closely related to empire since Roman days. Since then it has spread throughout the world, and now it is being used to provide ideological legitimization for today’s empire. Globalized Christendom and the ‘crusades’ it embarks upon today are symbiotically intertwined with global capital and the power of the global empire. In its triumphalistic pursuits, it discounts if not condemns all other religious faiths and cultures. The indigenous religions of many communities are destroyed and Islam is vilified.

The convergence of Christian religion with Western modernity has destroyed the religious and cultural life of peoples and their communities throughout the world. The powers and principalities of the global market and empire are being baptized by these theological distortions of ‘Christianity’, which promote religious conflicts and bigotry globally.

The Christian religion of empire treats others as ‘gentiles’ to be conquered, as the ‘evil empire’ to be destroyed, or as the ‘axis of evil’ to be eradicated from the earth. The empire claims that the ‘goodness’ of the empire must overcome these ‘evils’. Its false messianic spirit is imbued with the demonic.

These false claims destroy the integrity of faiths, and radically erode the identity of Christian faith in Jesus Christ. As the spirit of empire penetrates souls, the power of global empire possesses the bodies of all living beings. Lord of its domain, it builds temples for the global market to serve Profit (Mammon).

The empire uses ‘democracy’ as an umbrella term for the kind of political regime that it would like to see installed all over the world. Bringing democracy to countries that do not yet have it is claimed as the defining purpose of US foreign policy. For the US, democracies abroad are regimes that support or follow its dictates.

IS POVERTY A BLESSING TO ECUMENICAL RELATIONS? NO. IS IT A BANE OR A CURSE? NO. POVERTY IS OUR FAULT. MANY OF US, WHO TAKE PRIDE IN BEING CALLED CHRISTIAN, HAVE EITHER COLLABORATED WITH EMPIRE OR HAVE PRETENDED IT IS NOT OUR RESPONSIBILITY OR HAVE SIMPLY DID NOT CARE.

In the Feeding of the 5000, found in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, Jesus seeing the hungry multitudes, tells his disciples, tells us—who love to call ourselves his disciples—to give them something to eat. And what do the disciples do? They tell Jesus, “Send the crowd away” and “Are we going to spend our own money to feed them?” and “Six months wages worth of bread would not be enough to feed them.” It has been 2000 years. We are still coming up with excuses. In the story, a young child offers what he had, five loaves and two fish, in response to Jesus’ challenge.

Today, the multitudes are still hungry and we are still making up excuses.

Which Jesus

Close your eyes for a moment. Imagine Jesus, the one many of us call our Personal Lord and Savior. If the Jesus we imagine looks like an American or European movie star, white, blond, and with blue eyes, then we’re following the wrong Jesus. If the Jesus we imagine is the same Jesus who told McKinley to take possession of the Philippines, and told Bush to bomb Afghanistan and Iraq, then we’re following the wrong Jesus. If we imagine the same Jesus that Gloria Arroyo prays to before she gives the orders to General Jovito Palparan abduct and harass our priests, nuns, pastors, church workers, and militant grassroots organizers then we’re following the wrong Jesus. If the Jesus we imagine tells us to build huge buildings and air-conditioned chapels in his honor instead of reaching out to the poor and the marginalized among us, then we are following the wrong Jesus. If the Jesus we imagine has prepared a mansion in heaven for us, and wants us to spend eternity with him in an other-worldly place, and has no problems when his followers kill people and cultures in his name, then, definitely, we are following the wrong Jesus.

If the Jesus we imagine has no problem with poverty, does not care to address its root causes and its eradication, and believes that being poor is either God’s will or is a result of indolence or is a test of faith, then we are following the wrong Jesus.

Millions of people worship this Jesus, what the World Alliance of Reformed Churches calls the Constantinian Jesus. Patron. Emperor. King of Kings. Lord of Lords. Master of the Universe. Millions follow this Imperial Jesus. Millions have been killed and massacred in the name of this Jesus.

We are so used to that word "Gospel," that it has lost its original meaning. But in antiquity, when the Roman empire went off and conquered another land in the name of their god Caesar, and killed all the men, raped all the women, and destroyed all the homes, the soldiers would come back parading throughout the land announcing "the Gospel according to Caesar," the Good News of the latest victory of Caesar, that another land has been conquered for their god Caesar, and that Caesar's enemies have been killed.4

When the Gospel of Mark announces the “beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” he actually announces the most radical, subversive proclamation during that time—Jesus is Lord, and not Caesar; God’s reign has come, and Rome’s has come to an end. Put in another way, in Greek the empire was called basileia; the emperor, basileus. For almost everyone in the empire, Rome was basileia; Caesar was basileus. I said, almost, because for Christians, God’s reign was basileia; Jesus was basileus.

In Jesus’ alternative or counter-empire, there was only one commandment: love for neighbor, especially the least. In Luke 10:28, Jesus tells a lawyer that love for God and love for neighbor is one commandment. He tells the parable of the Samaritan to make his point.

Paul summarizes all the commandments in Romans 13:9 as love for neighbor. James is more explicit in 2:15-17 when he wrote, “If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, Go in peace… and yet do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?” The message of the Johannine letters is straight-forward: if you say you love God, whom you do not see, but not your brothers and sisters, whom you see, then you are a liar. In Mark 17: 21, Jesus tells a rich young man, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor… then come follow me.”

Now, if the Jesus we imagine is the Jesus of the Gospels, the compassionate Jesus whose insides were crushed at the sight of injustice, the Jesus who gave food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, who visited the sick and the imprisoned, who welcomed strangers, and clothed the naked, who proclaimed liberty to the captives, and who gave his life so that others may live, the one who told the rich to sell everything they have and give all the proceeds to the poor, then, my dear friends, we are following the right Jesus.

The WARC calls this Jesus the Galilean One. The One who left heaven to be with us. The One who is not in Jerusalem where we expect him to be. The One who is in Galilee where we don’t want him to be, among the poor and the marginalized are. The One who left his followers only a single commandment: “Love your neighbor.” The One whom the Empire eventually executed.

And those who follow this “Executed God” are persecuted, harassed, and, yes, like him, murdered. And many of his followers in the Philippines are called communists or, worse, terrorists!

The world does not need pre-cooked or instant noodle soup. This is the recipe of the Constantinian Jesus and his followers. Dole-outs. Always with strings attached.

More importantly, the world does not need people like Jacob who used soup to take advantage of his famished brother.

God’s Oikos: We are Family—All of US

More often than not, we define ecumenism as about “us” and “them.” Insiders and outsiders. Saved and unsaved. Christian and not. Now, if God is our parent, as Jesus taught us, then all of us are brothers and sisters. All of us.

Contrary to what Cain said, we are each others’ keepers.

God’s household is God’s project. Who are members of God’s oikos depends on whom God chooses to be part of it. It is, and never will be, our choice. Let us look at four episodes from the biblical narratives that are quite familiar to most of us:

1. 1 Samuel 16 : Jesse and his seven oldest sons under-estimated David. No one, not his father, nor his brothers, not even David, thought that David was worthy to be king. But God chose the least of Jesse’s sons. God’s oikos include family members who are in the margins.
2. The Story of Jonah : Jonah disobeys God because he wanted God to destroy the “evil” empire. But God saves Nineveh. God saves whomever God wants to save. God’s oikos include those we hate and despise.
3. Luke 10: 25-37 : Samaritans were bastards, demon-possessed, and worshipped the wrong God. It is the Samaritan who serves as keeper of his wounded brother. God’s oikos include those we think don’t deserve to be God’s people.
4. Matthew 25: 31-46 : Both blessed and cursed were judged with one standard—being each other’s keepers. God’s oikos include those who do not expect to be part of it yet do exactly what brothers and sisters should do for each other.

The blessed were not blessed because they did what they did for God’s sake. They were blessed because they did what they did for people’s sake. A parent’s greatest joy is for his/her children to care for each other, not to outdo each other in gaining the parent’s favor.

The Jeepney has been described as a Filipino home on wheels.5 There is always space for the unexpected visitor, the complete stranger around our dining tables. There is always space for the unexpected passenger in a jeepney. “Ang siyaman nagiging sampuan.” God’s oikos has space for the most unexpected, even the most unwelcome member because, let me reiterate, God’s oikos is God’s project, not ours.

If God is our parent, then we are brothers and sisters. We are family. Sa pamilya ng Dios, walang anak sa loob at anak sa labas. Lahat anak. We are each other’s keepers. We were during the time of Cain, during the time of Jacob. We are now.

Every moment of our lives, God, our parent, is asking us—where is your sister, where is your brother?

ECUMENICAL RELATIONS IS FUNDAMENTALLY ABOUT BEING EACH OTHER’S KEEPERS.


The Parable of the Stone Soup

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.6

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 Mananzan7 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 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 brother, each one is my sister.8 Each one is my friend. Kapatid, igsoon, kabsat.

THERE IS MUCH TO DO.

COME, IT IS TIME FOR US, SISTERS AND BROTHERS, TO COOK…


Revelation Enriquez Velunta
Union Theological Seminary, Philippines






NO MAN IS AN ISLAND (Joan Baez)

No man is an island,
No man stands alone,
Each man's joy is joy to me,
Each man's grief is my own.

We need one another,
So I will defend,
Each man as my brother,
Each man as my friend.

I saw the people gather,
I heard the music start,
The song that they were singing,
Is ringing in my heart.

No man is an island,
Way out in the blue,
We all look to the one above,
For our strength to renew.


When I help my brother,
Then I know that I,
Plant the seed of friendship,
That will never die.

NOTES
1 Statistics available from Anup Shah, Poverty Facts and Stats, GlobalIssues.org, Last updated: Sunday, March 22, 2009
2 From discussions and presentations at the Hong Kong Consultations of the Rerouting Ecumenism in Asia Project of the Christian Conference of Asia, 9-12 November 2006.
3 Presented by Kim Yong Bock at Philippine Christian University, 21 July 2006. The document is available online at http://www.peaceforlife.org/resources/faithresist/2006/06-0715-ecumenical.html.
4 Available at http://www.fatherjohndear.org/sermons_homilies/repent_believe.html)
5 For more on decolonizing readings of the Bible and Jeepney Hermeneutics, please check out the Union Seminary Bulletin, Volumes 1, 3, and 4 (UTS, 2002, 2007), The National Council of Churches in the Philipppines’ journal Tugon Volume 14, Nos. 1 and 2, or visit http://jeepney.blogspot.com.
6 From Anumang Hiram Kung Hindi Masikip ay Maluwang: Iba’t-Ibang Anyo ng Teolohiyang Pumipiglas, Revelation Velunta, Ed. (Union Theological Seminary, 2006), pp. 4-5.
7 Aside from Mother Mary John Mananzan’s ideas, many arguments in this brief essay resonate with insights from John Dominic Crossan and the members of the Jesus Seminar, Mark Kline Taylor, Ched Myers, Daniel Patte, Elizabeth Schussler-Fiorenza, Renate Rose, William Herzog, Laura Donaldson, Elizabeth Dominguez, Melinda Grace Aoanan, and Fr. Carlos Abesamis.
8 Full lyrics at the end of the essay.