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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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…. 

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.