The Gospel today is on the visit of Jesus to Bethany. His friends Lazarus, Marta and Mary lived in Bethany which is not far from Jerusalem. Here Mary pours expensive perfume on Jesus who claimed that the gesture was, as it were, in preparation for burial. Judas who was the "treasurer" of the group commented that the perfume could have been sold and the proceeds given to the poor. Jesus replied that the poor you will always have but I will not be with you much longer, implying His approaching death.
The Gospel account brought my thoughts back to Bethany in October 1999 when my sister Beth and I were on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. We talked more about the miracle of the death and life of Lazarus. Why? Because the celebrated story of Lazarus' death, the tears of Jesus shed for a friend and the bringing back to life of someone who had been dead for four days resonate with unparalled sensationalism no Bible scholar or reader can ignore.
"I can hardly believe I am here!" Beth exclaimed. The sparkle which shown in her beautiful eyes gave her excitement away. Who woulddn't be?
"We are truly blessed. Praise the Lord!" I remarked. She nodded her head in accord. Then we moved in silence to let the realization seep through the recesses of our hearts and also make room for our own hymns of praise and thanksgiving.
As in the days when Jesus and his apostles walked through the town, it has preserved its simple, unassuming ambiance. No structure of some grandiose scale marred its languid feeling of oneness. The people went about their activities unperturbed by the gawking pilgrims on their way to and from the church and the famous burial site. A few souvenir stores line the narrow dirt road leading to the spot where Scriptures record the time when Jesus looked up to heaven, gave thanks to God the Father and called Lazarus out. I looked around trying to figure out where Jesus stood then. I took a few steps to the left, moved to the right and then walked further back to a place exactly facing the opening of the cave. Believing that I was geographically right, I stood erect and in my mind rehearsed Jesus' words, "Lazarus, come out."
Suddenly, I felt Beth's hand prodding me towards the queue of those who would like to go down to the tomb of Lazarus. In my previous visits to the Holy Land in 1977, 1994 and 1995, I was able to visit Bethany only to peer down the dark elliptical steps leading to the tomb of Lazarus. I doubted my strength and agility to navigate the rugged stones that form the staircase. Having Beth as a strong and determined companion encouraged me to align myself among the brave 'conquerors' of the dark unknown. The cave was dark despite the few strategically located lights of peculiarly low voltage. The stone wall was moist as I let my hand breeze through the tiny crevices. My nose detected an undefinable scent. I held the rail tightly. Thousands of people who have gone down those steps many centuries ago must have left their imprints on the rocky steps. The middle part of each stepping stone had been hollowed and smoothened by the constant beating of shoes or footwear as diverse as the peoples of the world who had visited there. The configuration of the stones coupled by the very dim atmoshere stirred staccato ripples in my heart. The steps which could easily be more than two storeys high came to a stop in a small flat area. A funnel was hewn out of the rocks that gradually sloped down to a small hole. The hole was the opening of a deeper encasement - the tomb! It was made for one "mummified" body to go through. I immediately envisioned Lazarus all wrapped up with bandage and linen so well-defined in the Jewish tradition at that time, being lowered in the funnel and finally given a big push into its resting place!
Suddenly, a thought grazed my mind. What's the big idea of entering Lazarus' tomb? Why did I go through all the trouble of going down to this place anyway? I struggled for an answer. I found none.
"Come, Grace, it's our turn," Beth called as she nonchalantly lay her body down on the funnel with arms firmly close to her sides. Then with a little push, she slid through the opening in an instant! With unflinching resolve, I readily lay down, closed my eyes, tucked my arms and zapped into the tomb. I was in a tomb! It was eerie! The hair on my arms and the back of my neck went electric. It seemed my bladder was going to burst. I slowly took a 360-degree look and noted that the dimension of the tomb was meant for at least four persons. It could have been reserved for a family. It was well kept because the rock-filled walls seemed to be polished and unbelievably devoid of raw jagged edges. I ran my fingers against it. The ceiling was at most 2 or 3 inches above my head as I stood.
"Grace, take my picture," said Beth handing me her camera. She artfully leaned against the wall flashing a smile of conquest and joy that could put to shame many a debutante's pose. Who would think it was taken inside a tomb! I did not need a second invitation to a "I- was -there- picture."
I was taking a last sweeping look inside the tomb when I heard Beth say, "Wait, let's record our visit. I have a permanent marker here." Hastily, she produced a marker from her purse. She quickly scribbled her name and the date of our visit on the wall near the opening. She handed me the pen. Unmistakably reeling in the cloud of fantasy and lore of the I-was-there-syndrome, I immediately followed suit. We were beaming with smiles as we viewed our accomplished conspiracy. We were foolishly elated at the thought that no one before us had ever done so. So completely shrouded with self-centeredness, we failed to realize that what we did was graffiti. We desecrated a hallowed place.
Later, with contrite hearts we sought clemency from above. Our remorse was tremendous1
Every time the story of Lazarus is recounted in the Gospel, I remember the graffiti in Bethany and ask once more for God's mercy and forgiveness. Also, I marvel at the way Lazarus who was bound like an Egyptian mummy came out of the tomb. Did he walk, skip, or hop up more than two flights of steps to come out of the cave at Jesus' call? Do you remember that when Lazarus stood by the entrance of the cave, Jesus said. "Untie him." Hmm...hmm.. a suspension of natural law. A miracle! Now, I know why I had to go down into the tomb of Lazarus : to acknowledge that the journey of his encased remains from tomb to cave entrance was by itself, a miracle.
But would wiping out graffiti in Bethany require a miracle?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Birthday Anniversary Thoughts
Birthday anniversaries are opportune times to reflect on one's life - what has been and what is yet to come. Some people say that it is not good to indulge in the past. But I feel that it is an important phase in one's life to consider if one is to channel energies toward a brighter future. This is especially necessary for the young who are endowed with a wide field of action and more time to achieve goals. I still hold on to the idea that even those who are in their "twilight years" benefit from such reflections every time a birthday page is torn off the calendar.
So, on the eve of my 79th birthday anniversary, I decided to scribble some reflections on my life.....
In Retrospect
A long journey starts with the first step, so they say
Beneath those words lie an unmistakable tone
That the initial step is the hardest one to take
It needs courage to leave the comfort zone.
On the eve of my seventy-ninth year of birth
My thoughts flashed back to my San Francisco hearth
When on the seventh month, 22nd day in 1979
I came to settle down in my second homeland fine.
Full of excitement and high hopes of a future bright
The tomorrow would bring to my children's sight
My life hurdled heartaches which caused so much pain
Yet bubbled with glee at the thousand joys regained.
The years have taught me precious lessons to impart
To my children and my children's children smart
First and foremost is to stay close to Jesus and Mary
To keep your faith ever vibrant, persevering and holy.
Knowing Jesus is imperative to keep your faith strong
His Word you should read, meditate on and believe
Then your being a Christian unfolds in the way you live
That every aspect of life the Bible guides all along.
Another gem I learned from an ancient mind
Is that the secret of the universe is within you
Because what you give to the world comes back in kind
Seek love, give love and you will reap affection, too.
One's "word of honor" is something to be treasured
Which makes up your identity as "the" person
Be careful of what you promise to do or not to measure
Because your word is a covenant you have to honor with pleasure.
My mother personified love and generosity
It was her second name friends teased incessantly
I learned much wisdom from the example she wrought
Than from the lessons her lovely lips taught.
Nightly devotion to the Family Rosary
Was as constant as the Angelus prayer key
"Padre Nuestro" and "Dios te Salve" I learned first
Before the Our Father, Hail Mary in English verse.
She reminded us all since we were very small
To practice the Golden Rule with every living soul
To live a life of granite-like integrity
So as to look at anyone in the eye with sincerity.
Her advice about marriage is something you should know
The fifty-fifty proposition is much too low
Marital bliss requires you give 70 percent no less
To enjoy happy golden years of togetherness.
So I have tried to follow my mother's footsteps firm
To be a pulsating example of what I preach
I do hope that by this time my loved ones affirm
The values I hold sacred, hope you'll follow and teach.
I have no regrets for all I have done
Have accomplished much, much more than I have planned
My good Lord has decreed that I relish the thought
That what I have achieved, with His help, are the things I've sought.
Now, on bended knee I pray
"Thank you, Lord, for your guidance every day
Thank you for being in control of my life
Without which I would have succumbed to the strife."
So, on the eve of my 79th birthday anniversary, I decided to scribble some reflections on my life.....
In Retrospect
A long journey starts with the first step, so they say
Beneath those words lie an unmistakable tone
That the initial step is the hardest one to take
It needs courage to leave the comfort zone.
On the eve of my seventy-ninth year of birth
My thoughts flashed back to my San Francisco hearth
When on the seventh month, 22nd day in 1979
I came to settle down in my second homeland fine.
Full of excitement and high hopes of a future bright
The tomorrow would bring to my children's sight
My life hurdled heartaches which caused so much pain
Yet bubbled with glee at the thousand joys regained.
The years have taught me precious lessons to impart
To my children and my children's children smart
First and foremost is to stay close to Jesus and Mary
To keep your faith ever vibrant, persevering and holy.
Knowing Jesus is imperative to keep your faith strong
His Word you should read, meditate on and believe
Then your being a Christian unfolds in the way you live
That every aspect of life the Bible guides all along.
Another gem I learned from an ancient mind
Is that the secret of the universe is within you
Because what you give to the world comes back in kind
Seek love, give love and you will reap affection, too.
One's "word of honor" is something to be treasured
Which makes up your identity as "the" person
Be careful of what you promise to do or not to measure
Because your word is a covenant you have to honor with pleasure.
My mother personified love and generosity
It was her second name friends teased incessantly
I learned much wisdom from the example she wrought
Than from the lessons her lovely lips taught.
Nightly devotion to the Family Rosary
Was as constant as the Angelus prayer key
"Padre Nuestro" and "Dios te Salve" I learned first
Before the Our Father, Hail Mary in English verse.
She reminded us all since we were very small
To practice the Golden Rule with every living soul
To live a life of granite-like integrity
So as to look at anyone in the eye with sincerity.
Her advice about marriage is something you should know
The fifty-fifty proposition is much too low
Marital bliss requires you give 70 percent no less
To enjoy happy golden years of togetherness.
So I have tried to follow my mother's footsteps firm
To be a pulsating example of what I preach
I do hope that by this time my loved ones affirm
The values I hold sacred, hope you'll follow and teach.
I have no regrets for all I have done
Have accomplished much, much more than I have planned
My good Lord has decreed that I relish the thought
That what I have achieved, with His help, are the things I've sought.
Now, on bended knee I pray
"Thank you, Lord, for your guidance every day
Thank you for being in control of my life
Without which I would have succumbed to the strife."
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Second Sunday of Lent - Transfiguration of Jesus
The Gospel account today is on the magnificent Transfiguration of Jesus on
Mount Tabor. As the deacon read, I closed my eyes and recalled the wonderful privilege of being at the place where it all happened.
October 16, 1994... "Today, we shall go to Mt. Tabor," Benji Shavit, our tour guide announced. I was excited! It would be my first time to set foot on the mountain where a momentous event in Jesus' life is immortalized in the Bible. From a distance I saw Mt. Tabor, majestic and serene, distinctly alone, apart from the rolling, rocky hills that abound in the place. I felt the bus start its ascent. It went through a maze of winding roads until it reached an area where around seven or eight buses were parked.
"From this point, we shall take cars to reach the top," Benji said. Don't worry, you will use a Mercedes Benz, four persons to a car," he added with an unmistakable glint in his eyes and a queer smirk on his face.
"Wow," Gloria Reyes, Vangie Chaves and I chorused. Just then several cars stopped before our group. Yep! They were Mercedes Benzes, all right, presumably Circa 1950 or 1960, all in awful need of body shop upgrading. It was worst inside! The floor was covered with scraps of linoleum and flaking shreds of wall covering swayed relentlessly. For years of use, the seat cushion was barely three inches thick so that the coils disturbed (to put it mildly) our behind. Can you imagine the 'sacrifice' we experienced as the car went through the narrow road interspersed with many elliptical curves leading to the summit? The speed with which the car ran was nothing short of fast that kept us gasping for breath with an intoned, "Hesus, Maria, Hosep" at each curve. We held on to whatever solid part of the car was available or to each other's knees or arms for support every time we made a swing.
However, two things won our admiration, the efficiency of the engine of the car and the remarkable skill of the driver. Whatever the vehicle lacked in aesthetics was amazingly redeemed by the output of the machinery manned by the dexterity of seasoned drivers. The penultimate test of expert maneuvers was when an incoming car on its way down sidles a few inches away from an ascending one. By virtue of the "Keep Right" law of the road, our car had to be nearer the cliff which was not at all protected by any enbankment of any kind. Can you imagine the picture of four bewildered faces open-mouthed with anticipation what the next moment would bring? So it was with a deep, deep sigh of relief that we exclaimed, "Thank God" when we finally reached the top of Mt. Tabor with the Basilica of the Transfiguration.
You wil recall that the Bible starts the account with, "After six days..." yes after several days because they had to walk. Mt.Tabor is so high and forested and without any defined road then. It would really take days to reach the top on foot. Peter experienced something there he wanted to last forever. He wanted to hold on to the moment of profound peace and mystery. He wanted to gaze and feel the radiance of Jesus transformed before him - the Glory of God! And Peter said, "Lord, it is good to be here!" It really is good to be with Jesus! It was a "mountaintop experience for Peter.
By the way, it would be good for us to be with Jesus especially during this Lenten Season. How do we do this? By spending more time with Him in prayer and meditation. Our own transforming moments in prayer at home, in church, at work or while watching the splendor of a sunset or the breaking of dawn or by walking by the seashore or through the woods on a crisp autumn morn are all "mountaintop experiences" whether or not we have scaled a mountain. So are the moments we spend alone with Jesus in our so-called "desert" be it on an easy chair in our room or backyard, park bench or just anywhere when we can simply keep still and through the sound of silence let God be God!
We all know that Jesus is God the Son, the Second Person in the Holy Trinity. Yet, Jesus has two natures- Human and Divine. Mt. Tabor is a place so sacred because the Transfiguration was a manifestation of His Divinity just as the Garden of Gethsemane where He sweat blood and accepted "the Cup" manifested His Humanity.
Like Peter, I said, "Lord, it is good to be here. Thank you for bringing me here." All at once, I thought of my family, my loved ones. I wanted them to enjoy the moment with me! I wanted them to set foot on Mt. Tabor, on the mountaintop and feel God's embrace. I looked at the royal blue waters of the Sea of Galilee. I remembered St. Peter's fish, our own "tilapia" and the abundant life forms in the lake because of the generous, giving quality of its nature. The Sea of Galilee funnels out some water to its environs and thus remains fresh and vibrant. Unlike its generous counterpart, however, the Dead Sea is just that- dead to the world, the lowest spot on earth where nothing lives. It keeps every drop of water it receives from the River Jordan which is also the source of water of the Sea of Galilee. How these "seas" (they are actually lakes) dramatize the generous open hands or miserly closed fists of the different peoples of this earth!
The song of St. Francis reverberated in my ears, "Make me a channel of your peace...where there is hatred, let me bring love...it is in giving that we receive..." In retrospect, I asked myself, "Am I giving enough? Is stewardship a priority in my life?" I remembered, too, the proverb about some men grow richer by giving much away while those who are so cautious in extending help to those in need find themselves deprived by some means or other. I resolved to look into the matter of my own stewardship more thoroughly.
I took several deep long breaths of fresh air. I looked at the azure sky and meandering clouds and felt the soft caress of the soft breeze. As I glanced in every direction catching glimpses of greenery and hilly slopes against the quiet waters of the Sea of Galilee, I felt His Presence like never before. I "floated" in the all-embracing love of God! Again, I bowed my head in prayer, "Thank you, Lord, thank you." After a while, I opened my eyes and savored the scenery of verdant valleys below. What a stark contrast to the "valleys" of the city - the careening cars in busy streets, the homeless dotting the sidewalks, the hurried steps of busy housewives and office workers and many more which make up the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
Slowly, I straightened my back, pulled my shoulders back and held high my chin. I stood tall with the assurance and confidence of my own humble " transfiguration", so to speak. I walked away ready to face everything buoyed by the memory of the Glory and Radiance of G O D !
Mount Tabor. As the deacon read, I closed my eyes and recalled the wonderful privilege of being at the place where it all happened.
October 16, 1994... "Today, we shall go to Mt. Tabor," Benji Shavit, our tour guide announced. I was excited! It would be my first time to set foot on the mountain where a momentous event in Jesus' life is immortalized in the Bible. From a distance I saw Mt. Tabor, majestic and serene, distinctly alone, apart from the rolling, rocky hills that abound in the place. I felt the bus start its ascent. It went through a maze of winding roads until it reached an area where around seven or eight buses were parked.
"From this point, we shall take cars to reach the top," Benji said. Don't worry, you will use a Mercedes Benz, four persons to a car," he added with an unmistakable glint in his eyes and a queer smirk on his face.
"Wow," Gloria Reyes, Vangie Chaves and I chorused. Just then several cars stopped before our group. Yep! They were Mercedes Benzes, all right, presumably Circa 1950 or 1960, all in awful need of body shop upgrading. It was worst inside! The floor was covered with scraps of linoleum and flaking shreds of wall covering swayed relentlessly. For years of use, the seat cushion was barely three inches thick so that the coils disturbed (to put it mildly) our behind. Can you imagine the 'sacrifice' we experienced as the car went through the narrow road interspersed with many elliptical curves leading to the summit? The speed with which the car ran was nothing short of fast that kept us gasping for breath with an intoned, "Hesus, Maria, Hosep" at each curve. We held on to whatever solid part of the car was available or to each other's knees or arms for support every time we made a swing.
However, two things won our admiration, the efficiency of the engine of the car and the remarkable skill of the driver. Whatever the vehicle lacked in aesthetics was amazingly redeemed by the output of the machinery manned by the dexterity of seasoned drivers. The penultimate test of expert maneuvers was when an incoming car on its way down sidles a few inches away from an ascending one. By virtue of the "Keep Right" law of the road, our car had to be nearer the cliff which was not at all protected by any enbankment of any kind. Can you imagine the picture of four bewildered faces open-mouthed with anticipation what the next moment would bring? So it was with a deep, deep sigh of relief that we exclaimed, "Thank God" when we finally reached the top of Mt. Tabor with the Basilica of the Transfiguration.
You wil recall that the Bible starts the account with, "After six days..." yes after several days because they had to walk. Mt.Tabor is so high and forested and without any defined road then. It would really take days to reach the top on foot. Peter experienced something there he wanted to last forever. He wanted to hold on to the moment of profound peace and mystery. He wanted to gaze and feel the radiance of Jesus transformed before him - the Glory of God! And Peter said, "Lord, it is good to be here!" It really is good to be with Jesus! It was a "mountaintop experience for Peter.
By the way, it would be good for us to be with Jesus especially during this Lenten Season. How do we do this? By spending more time with Him in prayer and meditation. Our own transforming moments in prayer at home, in church, at work or while watching the splendor of a sunset or the breaking of dawn or by walking by the seashore or through the woods on a crisp autumn morn are all "mountaintop experiences" whether or not we have scaled a mountain. So are the moments we spend alone with Jesus in our so-called "desert" be it on an easy chair in our room or backyard, park bench or just anywhere when we can simply keep still and through the sound of silence let God be God!
We all know that Jesus is God the Son, the Second Person in the Holy Trinity. Yet, Jesus has two natures- Human and Divine. Mt. Tabor is a place so sacred because the Transfiguration was a manifestation of His Divinity just as the Garden of Gethsemane where He sweat blood and accepted "the Cup" manifested His Humanity.
Like Peter, I said, "Lord, it is good to be here. Thank you for bringing me here." All at once, I thought of my family, my loved ones. I wanted them to enjoy the moment with me! I wanted them to set foot on Mt. Tabor, on the mountaintop and feel God's embrace. I looked at the royal blue waters of the Sea of Galilee. I remembered St. Peter's fish, our own "tilapia" and the abundant life forms in the lake because of the generous, giving quality of its nature. The Sea of Galilee funnels out some water to its environs and thus remains fresh and vibrant. Unlike its generous counterpart, however, the Dead Sea is just that- dead to the world, the lowest spot on earth where nothing lives. It keeps every drop of water it receives from the River Jordan which is also the source of water of the Sea of Galilee. How these "seas" (they are actually lakes) dramatize the generous open hands or miserly closed fists of the different peoples of this earth!
The song of St. Francis reverberated in my ears, "Make me a channel of your peace...where there is hatred, let me bring love...it is in giving that we receive..." In retrospect, I asked myself, "Am I giving enough? Is stewardship a priority in my life?" I remembered, too, the proverb about some men grow richer by giving much away while those who are so cautious in extending help to those in need find themselves deprived by some means or other. I resolved to look into the matter of my own stewardship more thoroughly.
I took several deep long breaths of fresh air. I looked at the azure sky and meandering clouds and felt the soft caress of the soft breeze. As I glanced in every direction catching glimpses of greenery and hilly slopes against the quiet waters of the Sea of Galilee, I felt His Presence like never before. I "floated" in the all-embracing love of God! Again, I bowed my head in prayer, "Thank you, Lord, thank you." After a while, I opened my eyes and savored the scenery of verdant valleys below. What a stark contrast to the "valleys" of the city - the careening cars in busy streets, the homeless dotting the sidewalks, the hurried steps of busy housewives and office workers and many more which make up the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
Slowly, I straightened my back, pulled my shoulders back and held high my chin. I stood tall with the assurance and confidence of my own humble " transfiguration", so to speak. I walked away ready to face everything buoyed by the memory of the Glory and Radiance of G O D !
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