"God will provide"

It’s not uncommon for many of us who had been privileged to exercise the demanding role of parenthood to view with admiration and delight those little new additions to our own families. As we cuddle and sing them lullabies, our minds often wonder how they will turn out when they grow up. Some even wondered which offspring might follow a similar career path.

As we watch our children grow up, we would usually envision them as teeming with success; as lavishing and enjoying the tokens of blessings which we, as parents, may not have had the chance to enjoy during our younger years. And quite often we would raise our heads, close our eyes and gently acknowledge the very source of our precious gifts. It would be in one of those poignant moments when our mind would be drawn to God and thank this great Giver of Life who has gifted us, again and again, with such wondrous company in life.

All of these scenarios have one common thread and that is that we value these precious gifts of life and we would never, ever wish them any harm, physical or otherwise. The parent in us would go to all extreme in order to protect them from any pain, peril or danger. We just could not imagine our children going through the difficulties in life, let alone intentionally putting them in harm’s way ourselves.

Having said that, I would not be surprised if some of you could hardly believe what you heard from our Old Testament Reading for today.

Our First Reading, taken from the Book of Genesis 22:1-14, talks about the test of Abraham’s faith involving the offering of his son Isaac as a burnt offering to God. It is mind boggling for us, especially when viewed from our modern regard of the value of life and in our sense of obedience to God as shown in our discipleship.

Earlier, I drew your attention to one scenario when we establish that connection with the God of Creation as we stare at our children and envision the future in store for them. Those visions were the best we could ever imagine and we’re not going to settle for anything less. We’d hoped for their best and would be totally discomforted if they don’t get we believe they deserve.

In a similar parental mode, we could relate to the “caving in” of Abraham’s “roof” when he was ordered to sacrifice his son by the very God who gave this very son as living proof of the fulfillment of His promise that Abraham’s descendants will be as unnumbered as the stars in the heavens.

We ourselves would wonder how our God can do this. How can the God we believe to be the Fountain of Life and the Very Source of our Well-being even think of this? How can we reconcile such a direct contradiction between the giving of the precious gift of life, on the one hand, with its willful taking away, on the other; more so if this spiteful demand is executed at your expense?

If these are the questions that crop up your mind, then you’re not alone in your repugnant stance on it.  You see, when viewed from the perspective of a time and age when human rights are high on the list of priorities for civilized countries, this story is an example of horrific child abuse; perhaps along the line of the much publicized case of Casey and Caylee Anthony.

In its original context, however, Abraham’s would-be sacrificial act does not come under the purview of rights and abuse. In that cultural ethos, child sacrifice was normative and this story of faith was not any different from other biblical stories involving the taking away of lives with divine permission.

Our present Christian understanding of sacrifice to God has gone a long way from the early beginnings of our Judeo-Christian heritage. It no longer entails the offering of lives in the literal sense. In fact, our idea of sacrifice is now tied up to Christ’s death on the cross, as the greatest and final sacrifice, offered by no less than the only begotten Son of God for the redemption of all mankind. Hence, we should look at Abraham’s Story from a different perspective, one which might help us establish its relevance to our current faith and practice.

With that in mind, it would be fair to claim that our text from Genesis today is not so much a graphic example of child abuse as an experience that points us to a spiritual process which can be applied to our own discipleship. 

In this regard, we now look at Abraham and Isaac’s Story as an illustration of what our relationship with God might entail, namely, the need to listen, to trust and obey and, on God’s part, His continued providence for our all our needs.

First, on our need to listen. When God calls, Abraham listens. “God tested Abraham. He said to him, "Abraham!" And he said, "Here I am.” (NRSV Gen. 22:1)   

Quite a number of times, we have trouble listening. We might be able to hear words and phrases that others say to us but if you have some hearing problem, you might, just like me, keep on saying “Huh?” “What did you say?”

We need the ability to listen, not just to hear, especially when we talk about our relationship with God. God might have initiated a holy conversation with us and yet we don’t act or respond, simply because we fail to realize this divine intrusion in the ordinariness of our lives. We need to be listening so we can carry on with I call “genuine attraction” with Him. We need to hone our skill of picking out “voices” the response to which would bring us much closer to God; voices that suggest, for example, relieving others of their distresses or soothing their afflictions or restoring peace to their troubled minds.

Just as Abraham lived his life in light of his relationship with God so we should be doing the same in light of our relationship with God which is what discipleship is all about.

In the faith journey that we and all of the baptized continue to pursue, we are confronted every so often with all sorts of “voices” which may even appear to be coming from God. Some appear appealing especially to our affections and passions. Faced with such predicament, what needs to happen is for us to learn to have temperance that will restrain us from an indulgence on those “voices” that seek to feed our appetites. What needs to happen is to listen very carefully so that we do not wallow on our overindulgence and for them not to turn into fatal attractions that will ultimately lead us further away from God.

The next thing we can learn from Abraham’s story is our need to trust and obey.

There is this hymn that is entitled, "Trust and Obey."  It may sound too Protestant but I’m glad that it’s listed in the Lift Every Voice and Sing (LEVAS 205).  I like particularly the second stanza which says: “Not a shadow can rise, Not a cloud in the skies, But His smile quickly drives it away; Not a doubt nor a fear, Not a sigh nor a tear, Can abide while we trust and obey”. And the refrain goes: “Trust and obey; for there’s no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”

These are simple words that encourage us to trust and obey even when things appear to be making no sense like when Abraham heard the voice of God asking him to do something unthinkable: to give up his son.  It made no sense, absolutely; and yet Abraham obeyed. 

Similarly, somewhere in our respective journeys of discipleship, there will come before us “choices” which we have to make. At times, what is presented before us may not make any sense; it may even appear impossible. But these are conclusions prompted by our human standards.

God works in strange and mysterious ways. He provides what we need as we continue living our lives. God is the Great Provider. When the ram caught in the bushes had been offered to God, Abraham called the place "Jehovah-Jireh" which literally means, "The Lord will provide."

In the course of our interactions with those in our various circles of love, we find ourselves engaged in some questioning moments of needing to find concrete answers to what we are asking God for. These were the times when you are almost about to give up; when there seems to be no answer to your ever compounding problems. These are times when you’re on the verge of throwing the proverbial “white towel”, claiming defeat. But then that which you hope and pray for are answered, when, for some unexplainable reasons, something or someone appears before your troubled life and things begin to change for the better.

Often, we rightly acknowledge this shift to be coming from God. As illustrated in the story of Abraham and Isaac, God provided the ram that was caught in the thicket and He sends out more of them in our different stations in life and we somehow miss them.

But while we may fail to recognize them, sometimes what we seriously need to do is to listen carefully and find out where these “rams” are bleating. We need seriously to trust and obey the God who provides us with our respective “rams caught in the thicket”.

Take it from me, amidst our perceived abandonment, “Jehovah-Jireh”. God will provide.

“Veni, Sancte, Spiritus”

Today we celebrate the Feast of Pentecost and I suppose many of you are already well acquainted with its beginnings. But for those who are not, I propose that we revisit its origins and hopefully broaden your understanding of what others refer to as a classic Christian Festival. And for those who think they already know its background, well, maybe you’ll pick up some things you thought you alreadyknew but actually don’t.

I suppose a good place to start is to be acquainted with the reason behind the need to revisit its beginnings.  The need, I think, comes out of the often erroneous understanding that when Christians celebrate events connected to their identity and their journey as a faith community, they also have that assumed certainty that what they do are particular to Christianity, meaning, the things they do and observe are truly intrinsic part of the faith and practice of the Church in general and of their church denomination in particular.

So for example, just because we have the story of the Virgin Birth of Jesus as it relates to the Mystery of the Incarnation or that we have the Cross as the true icon for our understanding of the Salvation History or that we have Easter Lilies and Easter Eggs connected with our celebration of the Day of Resurrection, that we automatically claim them as our own stories and no one else’s. It is no wonder then that when we hear others tell similar stories but not about Jesus, we find them quite annoying, to say the least.

Another example is what we celebrate today. Today, Christians throughout the world are in concert with their celebration of the Day of Pentecost. Their ways may vary as in the kinds of hymns they sing or of other external reminders like our “red-ding” of the church.

The thread that binds all this is that we all think it’s our story alone. The Feast of Pentecost is one of the holy days observed by the entire Christian Church and we’re right in making that claim. What we often fail to acknowledge, however, is that it has its origins traceable to the Jewish part of our Judeo-Christian heritage. Pentecost was not originally a Christian Festival. It was a Jewish Festival, a harvest festival, but it became an important holy day for us, Christians, because of what happened on that particular Pentecost.

It was when the Holy Spirit came down upon the disciples; in a manner best described by Luke, believed to be the author of the Book of Acts. In his account, we read about images of what happened on that particular Pentecost; images such as the rush of a violent wind and the tongues of fire; images which have now become identified with the Christian holy day of the Day of Pentecost. What transpired on that particular Pentecost, along with the other account of the giving of the same Holy Spirit by the Resurrected Christ on what is now referred to as Easter Day, have helped in the shaping of the celebration we now call Pentecost Sunday.

Of the several powerful imageries related to Pentecost, what often appeals to me most is the association of Fire with the Holy Spirit.

"Fire" and "Holy Spirit"; these, to me, are powerful images of destruction and rebirth. By its very nature, fire is destructive; it destroys and consumes everything it touches; reduces everything to a state of nothingness.

The devastation that fire creates is not totally unknown to many of us and some may have a more direct experience than others. Few days ago, fire claimed the lives of two San Francisco firefighters in their line of duty. Down south and east of us, the raging fire in the Arizona-New Mexico border has already claimed more than 430,000 acres and has crossed the state border and continues to burn.

There is no doubt that as illustrated by this and other similar stories, fire is destructive. And yet, the same act of destroying old and decaying trees also promises new, healthy and vigorous ones to grow in their stead, when time comes. Fire destroys but it also cleanses.

And so it is with the Holy Spirit, I think. The Holy Spirit is like a cleansing fire when we let it dwell in our lives. It will burn and destroy the old and rotten part in us and replenish it, in due time, with new life. It will devour, like fire, the rotting trees of selfishness within us; the dying and sickened trees of pride and envy that lurk deep in us; it will raze down the wild bushes of anger, doubt and mistrust that have become too thick in us.

They are images of destruction but not for long. In due time, by nature’s way of replenishing its terrain of new life, soon, there will be the symbols of new life sprouting from the ground. New and healthier plants will bud and bloom and the once seared ground will flourish with new reflections of the grand design of the Great Artificer of the Universe.

So will we be, my dear Friends in Christ, after we allow the raging and destroying fire of the Holy Spirit do their work.  Our new life will flourish with beautiful flowers of kindness and gratefulness; there will be the sweet smell of the fragrance from our tender plants of love, mercy and forgiveness and the growing trees of our fortified faith. Yes, this will be the new landscape supplanting the once sinful and dying terrain of our old self.

And we have proof of this transformation in the lives so many people. We know of so many saints whose new, productive and godly lives were the result of their willingness to let the raging fire of the Holy Spirit burn down their old sinful ways. They often claim that they have been “born again” by the power of the Holy Spirit and they are right in their claim.

The Holy Spirit, whose coming we celebrate, continues to come our way and sends out its sparks from its burning flints, hoping that our lives will catch it and we’ll be “set on fire”.  Quite often, though, we are just too quick to put this kind of fire out. We are just too scared to really get our lives reworked by the Spirit. Perhaps, we should be bold enough to let it do what it needs to do, that is, transforming us into a new being, reflecting the beautiful creation we are meant to be.

And so I hope that the next time we sing the hymn “Come, Holy Spirit”, that we should really mean it to come down upon us and that we are allowing the same Spirit to start “firing” us up. Let the “burning” begin in our lives so that we may rise into newness of life, bud and bloom as reflections of God’s splendor and become worthy children of God.

“Veni, Sancte, Spiritus”

“... until then, dear Brother, until then, farewell.”

There’s a good chance that among the readership of this blog, there are a few who could readily relate the title of this post in its particular context. They are the Freemasons and, perhaps, their relatives, who would have recognized these words as the last words spoken by the Master at the conclusion of a Masonic Funeral Service. 

"... until then, dear Brother, until then, farewell".

These words are addressed to the departed Brother and it is his assurance that his separation from his brethren is temporary and that ultimately, they all shall be gathered to the “celestial lodge above, that house, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens”.

This bidding to the departed Brother induces us to reflect on an often overlooked awareness that death is not the end of life; that while it marks the end of our earthly toil, it also is the occasion when we will be translated from this imperfect to that all perfect, glorious and eternal habitation and precisely for this reason, this form of leave taking ought not be a painful goodbye.

The reality, however, is that “goodbyes” often lead to an almost instantaneous collapse of whatever binds the two “persona” prior to the disconnect, hence, goodbyes are often painful.

Indeed, we do experience quite a number of painful goodbyes; ranging from an emotionally wrenching occasion such as the demise of our loved ones to a simple and uncomplicated ones like what a two-year old grandchild feels when she gets “separated” from her grandma after having been baby-sat by her.  And while she could not articulate yet what sadness is all about, the child hearing “Bye” changes her mood to a definitely sad one. 

Another example of the display of the relatively sad character of “goodbyes” happens between a mother and her son on the latter’s first day of school. Leaving home and only away a few yards, the child turns around and in teary eyes; gently says in an almost inaudible tone of voice: “”Bye”. And Mom does the same. “Go on, Honey. You’ll be all right. Mom will always be here. See you later.” Goodbyes could be painful.

I’m sure most of you have other similar leave-taking experiences in your different circles of love; of the many times when someone you love has to go away, or you have to go away. There are many times when, for whatever reason, someone has to move on, thereby irrevocably altering a relationship. In most cases, they were painful, leaving you feeling empty, and suddenly, your world seemed to have collapsed and it would seem that there’s no more reason to continue living after severing a relationship you’ve hoped will last.

Today is the 7^th Sunday of Easter but the Propers we are using are those of Ascension Day.  The reason for the change in lessons is quite obvious. Our parish, The Episcopal Church of the Ascension, is named in honor of the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ and it is but fitting that we celebrate that feast today, moving it from its original date, Thursday last.

A similar story of what could have been a painful separation forms the basis of what we are celebrating today and by that I mean something heart-warming suddenly turned out to be quite the opposite.

To put this in context, remember that the last chapter of the Gospel of Luke talks about what happened on “the first day of the week”, the Day of the Resurrection, when Jesus was raised from the dead. It also talks about the delight of the two disciples who were on their way to Emmaus when the Resurrected Christ showed himself again, very much alive. It was there that the Resurrected Christ broke bread with them. The story thus far is all full of mixed feeling of fear and disbelief and gladness, although the latter seems to overcome the former, especially that part when the two disciples returned to Jerusalem and broke the news to the other disciples that “The Lord has risen indeed”.

I would like to believe that what filled the disciples was utter gladness as in their having regained something back which they hoped would last and never lose again. But to their disbelief, just as when they were keeping their hopes high, the Resurrected Christ tells them something else.

Jesus says: ‘Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” (NRSV Luke 24:44-49)

Just hearing the words “so stay here”, you know already something’s coming up; something which most likely will not involve you or something you were not ready to hear. And indeed it happened.

Luke describes it this way. “Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven” (NRSV Luke 24: 50-51)

The Resurrected Christ ascended to the Father up into heaven and he lifted up his hands, blessed them and vanished from their sight

With those imageries of separation alluded to earlier, I know that many of you would readily say:  “You know what? They were not as bad as I thought they’d be.” Most of you would agree that while goodbyes could be seriously painful, it isn’t the end of the story. After the extreme angst and the throbbing heartache of a painful goodbye have worn off, you experience your loved one’s absence in a different way.

These past days and on to the next, there’d be a proliferation of school graduations and today we celebrate our own graduates. I’m sure that in their respective Commencement Exercises, there’d be a lot of biddings of farewell. While some maybe “painful” as in their not seeing anymore their BFFs; and while that parting will leave others really feeling empty, after a while, well, they’ll discover that the world did not end after all.

And so it was with the disciples who were left by the Ascended Christ. I’m sure they felt lost and abandoned and we could see this in the account we read in the Book of Acts.

“While he was going and they were gazing up towards heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, ‘Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up towards heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” (NRSV Acts 1: 10-11)

I’m sure that their “gazing up towards heaven” also included gaping of jaws and their sad look of disbelief. But then we know that it didn’t last forever. They were in fact eagerly waiting for the Spirit that has been promised them. Yes, there were smiles on their cheeks as they waited for the descent of the Holy Spirit (referred to as “Holy Prodder” in my last blog).

The Feast of Ascension reminds us not only about the ascending of Jesus to the Father but more importantly about His having been set free in order to continue the work he has begun. This is where the joy and gladness come in, knowing that Christ’s ascension was not a total “leaving” but an assurance that indeed he will be with them, and with us and we all are to be witnesses “from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth”

The beauty of today’s celebration is the turning of the pain of goodbye into the assurance of a better tomorrow. It’s about the mystery of saying goodbye, when goodbye isn’t really goodbye at all, but only love’s way of taking on a different form so that it can be present in a way that’s much deeper and more lasting.

That too is the mystery of the Ascension. Yes, it is about Christ’s going away so that we all could fully receive the gift of the Spirit.  Next Sunday is Pentecost Sunday and faith communities will be celebrating the fulfillment of the promise of the Holy Spirit.

In the meantime, be comforted that Christ’s ascension was not a total departure nor was it a mark of the end of our Lord’s ministry but a sign for us to carry it on since it has now been entrusted to our care by virtue of our baptism and our willful decision to follow him.

Having said this, I now say: “until then, my good friends, until my next post, farewell”.

The Holy Prodder

Our Staff Meetings here in my parish would begin by a short prayer followed by a time for sharing. Most of those sharing are spin-offs of the theme of the diocesan program called Grateful, Glad and Giving. At our last Staff Meeting this past Thursday morning, I invited those in attendance to share about their “abilities”. As it had been the case before, there was again an honest sharing, as each began to “open their window” and let others take a peek of their least and their best ability.

Confidentiality is strictly observed, of course, unless one makes his or her own individual sharing public. Should an individual decide to make that option, he or she will be at liberty to do just that, provided whatever shared by others are not compromised. Today, I will exercise that option.

What I’m not good at and what I have difficulty with is my ability to sustain something that I have started. I know, it’s a bit awkward to admit this in public, especially since there is no need to make such possibly demeaning confession. But then I’m sure that there are others out there who are equally burdened by the same “ability” I consider not my best. Realizing that, it is then comforting to know how prevalent the need for some “prodding” is, one which could sustain that which has been started but somehow in danger of being left on the wayside.

“Prodding”, as you already know, simply means “to rouse or incite as if by poking; or to nag or to goad”. I think I know why some of the ladies are now smiling. Prodding seems to be in their turf.

Pushing this imagery a little bit more leads me to imagine that the “prodder”, meaning the one who “prods”, is that entity or that “persona” whose task is to make sure that the individual he or she is supposed to “prod” continues to do that which he or she has started. It means also that the “prodder” is the one who enables someone’s inability to sustain get transformed into the ability to carry on and bring to fruition all the potential of that which has been initiated.

I’d like to imagine that there is that “Holy Prodder” who was once promised to the disciples and continues to be offered to all those who follow Christ Jesus. This “Holy Prodder” that I’m referring to is none other than the “Holy Spirit”, the Third Person of the Holy Trinity who every so often prods or pokes and even nags us to move on and fulfill all those which we, at our baptism, said we would do but might now have been laid in the wayside.

While the Holy Spirit being referred to as the “Holy Prodder” may be a bit distasteful for others, I was hoping that my use of the term could bring a bit of contemporariness into what could have been a strange verbiage such as when the Holy Spirit is referred to as “The Paraclete”.  The what? Some of you might wonder. See, what I mean? It’s the “Holy Prodder” the Holy Spirit and our Gospel for this Sixth Sunday of Easter talks a bit along that line.

“Jesus said to his disciples, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.” (NRSV John 14:15-16)

Listening to that portion of the Gospel for today reminds us of Jesus promising his disciples the sending of the Advocate, the Holy Spirit or as in my version, the “Holy Prodder”, who will be with them forever and therefore, in effect, also with us, who have decided to follow Jesus as the Way, the Truth and the Life.

During his earthly ministry, Jesus was the one who “prodded” them to be closer to God. Jesus did this through his teachings about God’s unconditional love and of God’s mercy and forgiveness through his healing miracles. But now that Jesus approaches his death; now that he is in the verge of his departing time and especially now that the disciples will be on their own without him, that task is to be handed over to the Holy Spirit.

The primary task, then, of the Holy Spirit, is to remind, not only those disciples of old but also us, who are now part of the Body of Christ, of the Good News of Salvation, of God’s Unconditional Love and to “prod” us about all of God’s commandments lest we take them so casually.

As in the intent of plain “prodding” wherein we are “poked” or “goaded” in order to move on, so are we being reached out by the Holy Spirit, the “Holy Prodder” who now abides in us.  This “Holy Prodder” is to be our constant companion in good times and bad; in situations when we offer praise and thanksgiving for the blessings received and also in times when convenience supplants the noble desire of fulfilling our duties which should be reflective of the sincerity of our claim as Christians.

It may surprise us to think of the Holy Spirit in this way, as someone who helps us convert our “least ability” into what might be the “best ability” we could ever have; that is, the ability to be obedient and loving children of God.  

Quite often, the Holy Spirit is advertised in more fancy terms. For example, that the Holy Spirit gives ecstasy or that the Holy Spirit evokes speaking in unknown tongues or that the Holy Spirit prompts dramatic and miraculous healings.

I’m not saying that these are not good descriptions of what the Holy Spirit does. Indeed, the Holy Spirit, the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity, does perform such deeds, but then, these are only reflections of the one, primary activity of the Spirit which is to “prod” God’s children about not forgetting everything that Jesus taught and commanded.

Lest I forget that today is in fact a National Holiday, let me attempt to relate to it the theme of “prodding”.  Living in this beloved country of ours means enjoying the benefits of freedom and liberty which those in the Armed Forces and other related agencies have secured with their lives; their greatest sacrifice. We celebrate “Memorial Day Weekend”, an opportunity to pay homage to those who have perished during times of conflict.

That ought to be what should loom in the consciousness of this country and her people. Sad to say, that seems to be going to the way side. Asked what the significance of the weekend is, many would say it’s nothing but a long weekend, a holiday. Thankfully, there are those who are forthright in sharing their admiration for those who fought for their country and have died. There are also those who continue to admire and congratulate our veterans who have survived the rigors of war.

But for the many who may have forgotten its primary function of lifting up courage and patriotism, perhaps some “prodding” might not be a bad idea. In fact, I think just as we have a “Holy Prodder” who ensures our transformation in living out that which we believe, and enabling us to move on as living witnesses of God’s love, mercy and forgiveness, so should there be a “prodding” for those of us living here in the United States of America to never forget the great sacrifice this nation’s heroes have done, that we may live in peace and safe from foreign oppression.

Our celebration of “Memorial Day” could very well be that “prodding” we so badly need. I hope that this celebration may become for us an occasion to remember not just the triumphs and victories we have achieved thus far but, more importantly, as a time to re-establish our connections with those who have pursued the lofty dreams of our Founding Fathers in establishing a republic, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

It is also my hope that we continue to ponder on that other “prodding” which we, as citizens of the Church Militant, also badly need, in order to foster a world framed in justice and peace.  

The Holy Spirit, the “Holy Prodder” was promised to us; has come and will be with us for ever. Let us allow the same Spirit to work in us through his or her “prodding” so that you and I may flourish even more as creatures formed in God’s image.

You see, some prodding could be of divine nature.

On our becoming the perfect ashlar…

For us who inhabit modern places of abode and who labor in contemporary edifices, buildings made of stones seem to be no longer a common sight. What we have become familiar with are structures fortified by cement, steel, hard plastics, strong rubber and even glass. Stones, as natural source of strength, have been replaced by a combination of other elements proven to be less cumbersome; materials that are more easily available and exceed building code requirements.

While buildings made of stones may now be a rare sight, nonetheless, they are still around in other places; in ruins of ancient structures, for example. Stones are also very much an essential components of structures like cathedrals and palaces but the more common picture of the contemporary usefulness of stones for the purpose of architecture and the erection of superstructures is now undoubtedly coming to an end. They’re almost non-existent.

But then, again, maybe not. Buildings made of stones are still a common sight in the Middle East. Everywhere you go, from the hot banks of the Dead Sea to the summits of holy mountains, stones are everywhere. From the ruins of Jericho to the walls of Jerusalem, stones still abound. People who had been to the Holy Land are so privileged in that they are able to see centuries of history as they view ruins of edifices made of stones.

Having said this, I’d like to draw your attention to the Second Reading appointed for the Fifth Sunday of Easter; taken from the First Letter of Peter, as this lesson contains the imagery of stones, especially of “living stones” which both apply to the very cornerstone upon which our spiritual edifice is built and of the very purpose of our connectedness with God in and through Christ Jesus.

In that cited passage of Holy Scriptures, Peter says: "Come to him, to that living stone, rejected by men but in God's sight chosen and precious; and like living stones be yourselves built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ," (RSV 1 Peter 2:4-5). 

Just as Peter summoned his listeners then so does he now tell us to look to that “Living Stone” and in the very act of doing it, be ourselves transformed into “living stones”, fit to become the finest material needed by the Great Architect in building not only that celestial lodge, that spiritual building, not made by hands, eternal in the heavens but also as the finest materials that faith communities or the whole people of God are ought to be made of.

To better appreciate the process of transitioning into living stone, I propose that we familiarize ourselves with a few basic things in operative masonry.

Stones are generally hewn from quarries and in their crude form are referred to as “rough ashlars”. They are called rough since they contain a good number of superfluous characters and so to make them fit for the builders’ use, the superfluous parts are removed by means of an instrument called a common gavel.

Once the unwanted parts are removed, they’re then called “perfect ashlars” and are now fit for use in the erection of an edifice. One of these refined ashlars is then chosen to be the first stone, usually laid in the northeast corner and is considered as the cornerstone. After this cornerstone has been laid down, the rest of the ashlars are laid out, stone after stone, and ultimately, patterned after the design drawn in the builder’s Trestleboard, a stately edifice is erected, standing strong and intended to endure the rigors of nature.

This process in operative masonry was so common in olden days and authors of some books of the Holy Scriptures used this imagery of stone building to reflect the relationship and connectivity which God has intended for His creation.

The Apostle Peter, very much aware that his intended listeners were already familiar with how magnificent edifices are built, used this imagery as well and thus summoned them to regard the importance of Christ Jesus in their lives, in a manner they can relate to.  He implored his listeners to look into Christ Jesus as that “living stone”, the very cornerstone of the spiritual edifice that God the Father desired to have. Peter also invited his readers to be like “living stones” as well, and as such, be built into the spiritual building, be a holy priesthood and lastly to be able to offer spiritual sacrifices to God through Jesus Christ.

To turn from being rough ashlars into becoming perfect ones, fit for the builders’ use, is both a privilege and a responsibility. We are so privileged to become “living stones” by the grace and mercy of God Almighty, the Great Artificer of the Universe.  It is also through God’s grace that we become “living stones and cornerstones” whose responsibility is to assure the strength and integrity of a God-fearing community; that it will be a sure foundation able to withstand the rigors of delusional concepts.

Being living stones means being alive in Christ. It’s about discipleship, following Christ's declaration that his followers will be his "witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8). It means living with the confidence in the power of the Holy Spirit that dwells in the hearts and minds of all who call upon the Lord.

It also means being missional, always in mission with God and being a witness of God's good news for all people. We are called to be witnesses to all people. We are called into this holistic mission and to witness not just about a narrowly defined talk of Christ or just about the Church. It is about living the reality of Christ's presence with one another and with the world. The world cries out with so many demands: demands for justice and peace; for food and shelter; for healing and comfort.  In the face of such overwhelming challenges, we often are silenced by a tragic sense of helplessness or even apathy. We are silenced by those who want to muzzle God’s message of hope and liberation and transformation, proclaimed through the church.

Becoming living stones means, therefore, that we don’t succumb to those pressures; that we withstand that temptation by the strength of the Holy Spirit that empowers us amidst all these trials. We pray that our witness can always reflect this holiness lest we cease to become the living stones that God hopes us to be.

And so, as we continue to celebrate the season of Easter, always rejoicing with the entire faith communities the mystery of Resurrection, let us also continue in beseeching God to afford us the privilege of becoming living stones, fit for the use of that Great Artificer of the Universe. Let us allow God to cleanse and rid us of our superfluous characters and let us supplicate the Holy Spirit to empower us in the pursuit of that which is holy and that which is just and merciful.

It will always be a challenge to get engaged in this transition but as any mason will tell you, the perfect ashlar stands out among others. Would you not rather be one?

He is risen, indeed …

What a joy it is to be with you today and what a privilege it is to be among the company of so many good people of faith celebrating the greatest of all mysteries, the Paschal Mystery, Jesus’ triumph over death itself; the Day of Resurrection!

In the many years that I had the privilege of presiding worship in a faith community such as what is gathered here today, Easter Sundays often prove to be difficult. And I don’t mean because church attendance would all of a sudden increase quite considerably and so there’s that possible challenge of winning back more souls to the fold, although I know that there’s a petty chance of them coming back to church. 

While that may be a part of the Easter Sunday scenario, the more challenging on those Easter Sunday worship services, including the one we’re celebrating now, had always been how to present the message of Easter to such a diverse group; diverse in the sense of being a conglomeration of people having different levels of understanding about the reality of the Paschal Mystery.

And what, you might ask, is difficult with that setting?

Well, within that diverse group, there’ll be those who would look at Easter from a purely cerebral point of view and would be preoccupied with some strenuous analytical exercises such as how can a man, having been dead for three days, come back to life. So while the Gospel is being proclaimed, some of them would begin asking questions, probing deeper on the theological implications but in the act, would miss out on what is being proclaimed.

There are also those who would look at Easter with some antiquated religious sentimentality and might begin to act with some element of smugness when they find among those present others who don’t fit in their self contrived picture of who should be at attendance.

There will also be those who are there only because it is the hype thing to do. A college girl coming home might say: “Hey. It’s Easter. It’s time to go to church! Which one? Let’s try the one we went to when we were back in Sunday School. They might still be hiding Easter Eggs. Oh, how I miss those years!”

           

Aware of this broad spectrum of interests from among those in attendance, what I find really challenging is how to create for them a renewed interest on this joyful celebration we call “Easter” and perhaps, generate enough interest so they can begin to reconsider taking a second look on their own faith journey that might have somehow faltered.

So having acknowledged these different aspects about how Easter could be viewed, let me offer one which I hope will turn out to be of some interest for such a diverse faith community that you are today.

In its very simple, elementary sense, Easter is about the rising from the dead of a man named Jesus of Nazareth. It means that his corpse which had ceased from actively functioning had been infused with all things necessary for its vital organs to  function as they used to and be considered as living once again; breathing and pulsating and getting real hungry for some real food,

It also means that this rising from the dead was a real and authentic fact of history, as avowed by those who were witnesses to it. It also means that Easter has nothing to do with bunnies and plastic eggs filled with chocolates, waiting to be found by young children who are often coached by their parents.

But then, Easter could also be seen from another perspective; one that endorses the shift from death to life as parallel to the shift from darkness to light, from loss to gain and from defeat to victory. Easter is about the rising from the dead; with death not just as the absence of life but also as a condition of darkness and hopelessness and as representative of a shattered dream or a vanishing grip from life and vitality or even from reality.

           

I often use as an illustration of Easter’s meaning that which lies behind the redeemed life of “someone” who has wandered into a different path in life while escaping the hard facts that “weigh” him down but has been rehabilitated and transformed to an even healthier state of being, mainly because he has not been abandoned by those who really care for him. That “someone” who has been in such a redeemed path has now realized that however horrible he had become to those who loved him, their love, however, did not falter in any way. His worst has not destroyed their love for him.

           

My friends in Christ, this is what Easter might look like for believers like us. Easter is about God's undefeated love for all His Creation. Because of the rising to life we call Easter, we now have been made aware that our worst cannot destroy the love of God revealed in His only begotten Son Jesus Christ.

This unmoved love for an imperfect world is what we constantly put to the test through our rebellion and our distancing from God and from the rest of God’s creation. Good Friday represents that rebellion against that gift of love. But while such utter disobedience might look so discouraging, the love of God for an undeserving world remains unperturbed.

There’s this phrase I love to cite in this regard. “For every Good Friday, there is always an Easter.” Good Friday was viewed by those who witnessed the crucifixion as the worst that could happen to their vision of being with Jesus when God’s Kingdom on earth is ushered in. It also signified the shattered dreams of the disciples and of those who decided to become followers of Jesus.

Good Friday, however, was not the end and it had no power to make even a dent on God’s unconditional love for His people. Yes, Good Friday may have represented the worst that humanity can do but Easter, on the other hand, points out the truth that even that worst thing can not destroy God's offering of love.

The Easter Story will not be complete without the account of the finding of an empty tomb. John’s gospel alludes to this when he describes what Mary Magdalene saw on the morning of the third day. The Resurrected Christ was not in the tomb any longer.

Easter means that whatever that tomb meant to keep, it failed in that regard. It didn’t do a good job. Easter means that whatever was held in captivity in that tomb has now been freed from its clutches.  Easter, indeed, is the passing from loss to gain and from defeat to victory.

Easter’s message then is that of hope; of rising above and beyond the grip of the talons of death. We find this message of hope able to propel us to a greater height; to life, if you may, and infuse on whatever we regard as dead in our being the breath of life that will transform us as a renewed creation.

In a short while we will baptize Aidan and thereafter, he will be counted among those who have passed from the virtual death of sin into the virtual life of the redeemed.  How appropriate that as we celebrate Easter being a shift from death to life, we administer to Aidan the Sacrament of Holy Baptism, propelling him into a new and different life. We have, by virtue of our baptism, joined with all of the baptized in their mission of spreading forth the message of hope; the same message which brings about reconciliation and unity.

May this Easter then become for all of you gathered here, an inspiration to revisit your respective faith journeys and for some, perhaps, move on from wherever you got stalled. And if, by chance, you need someone to be with you as you walk your faith journey, remember those who have not given up their love for you. They can become an engaged partner in your quest to freshen up the faith that, through the years, may have waivered and now in need of some spiritual nourishment.

           

Again, Happy Easter to y’all.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. He is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

Will you carry it?

Faith communities throughout the world have just begun a week-long celebration called Holy Week. Most mainline religious denominations encourage their membership to participate in rituals and religious services intended to bring to remembrance the passion, death and resurrection of Christ Jesus.

While that event took place in distant past, its consequence shaped history and the very world we live in. It was also responsible for the emergence of a distinct faith community that budded and bloomed and had been spawned throughout the world.

Most Christian congregations usher it in with what is known as Palm Sunday, where, with a little pageantry of waving palm leaves and a virtual procession, they call to remembrance Jesus’ Entry to Jerusalem, that time when he was showered with accolade and the words: “ ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’

During the main service, they either listen to the reading of the Passion Narrative

or its dramatization and relive  the story of the Passion of Christ, his brutal suffering as impressed upon him by the Roman government at the instigation of the Jewish religious leadership of the time. By calling to remembrance the graphic account of his passion, this Sunday is also referred to as Passion Sunday.

While the story remains as a rendition of the passion, death and resurrection of the Son of God, it is also viewed as an expression of God’s unconditional love for His creation. To those who want to revisit that story, get a copy of the Holy Bible and read Matthew 26:14 – 27:54 or its parallels in the other gospels.

Having read, or as in our case here at church, heard the story, your mind must have been somewhere, perhaps in your world of imagination and wondered  how that day must have been; how the narrow streets were teeming with people and how the magnificent Temple at Jerusalem was heaving with activity. There was also that possibility of you wondering how the Garden at Gethsemane must have looked like and what attracted Jesus to it as his place for prayer.

On top of those scenes, there must have been also images of the personalities named in the story. As you switch between scenes and images of personalities, I suppose you found yourselves confronted by a daunting question like “Why did it have to happen to Jesus? How can an all-loving God allow His only begotten Son to suffer and die for the sake of a sinful creation?”

And there must have been other equally troubling questions that you dared not ask. And yet, today is that opportune time when all of us could get engaged in an additional probing of similar questions.

With a growing number of equally important, though conflicting, agenda affecting our ability to live up to our Christian expectations, some questions that might cross our mind could include: ‘What is this Passion Story telling me? Where do I see myself in the Passion Story or with which character in the story could I relate myself?” 

There are many possibilities. Perhaps, you saw yourself as among the chosen companions, the Twelve, who faithfully followed Jesus believing in the coming of the Kingdom of God but now are so confused by the turn of events. Or perhaps you saw yourself among those who were merely on the sidelines, just looking at how things were happening. I doubt that you identified yourself with Judas who betrayed a friend or even in Peter, who denied him three times? So who was it?

One of the characters in Matthew’s Passion Story who might be of interest to you is this individual named Simon of Cyrene.  As Cyrene was believed to have been in Africa, perhaps Simon was an African Jew and that would explain why he was there in Jerusalem that time.  

I could relate to Simon of Cyrene in that I could easily picture myself in him as he was mingling with the crowd, basking on the sights and sounds on the narrow streets of Jerusalem, perhaps admiring the magnificent Temple.

I also could picture myself in him as he must have wondered why he was chosen to bear Jesus’ cross. I would also have asked: "Why does it have to be me? Why not any of those people? I share in his bitterness, in his resentment. “Why me, Lord, Why did this have to happen to me? I'm here for the Passover and this could be my last. Why ruin it? I don't deserve this!!”  

Those must have been some of Simon’s thoughts as he helped Jesus moved on with the procession on to Golgotha. Little did he know that this very act will go down in history as an exemplary act, worthy of all emulation.

Thoughts of resentment are not unique to Simon or the Psalmist. We heard them uttered again on the cross: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" In my assumed affinity with Simon, I could relate to such resentment as when my agenda in life don't turn out as I’ve hoped for; when I get so overwhelmed with emotions when similar events put me in the lowest ebbs of my life. Then I scream within me: “Why me? Why now? I don't deserve this! Why have you forsaken me?”

This Holy Week, this Palm Sunday, this Sunday of the Passion might be a good opportunity for us to look inside us and revisit those moments when our frustrations have enveloped us and pushed us to resentment. Let us walk with Simon and listen to the murmurings of our hearts that as we continue our holy journey in Lent we may learn to pick up Jesus’ cross, our own crosses, with the great assurance that we have not been forsaken at all.

The great Paschal Mystery will proclaim this truth come Eastertide.