Today marks the Beatification of the late Pope John Paul II at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. It has been reported that more than 800,000 people gathered at the square infront of the largest Christian church in the world to witness the ceremony. He was the first non-Italian Pontiff to occupy the Chair of Peter since 400 hundred years ago. He was Polish. His Papacy lasted for more than twenty years, one of the longest in the history of the Catholic world. To say that this holy, brilliant, "charming" man was intrinsically admired and benevolently loved by millions, Catholic and non-Catholics alike would be an understatement. The memory of Pope John Paul II will be unforgettable to me because of two personal experience in my life : my shaking hands with him and my visit to his birthplace, Wadowice, Poland.
My friends, Gloria Reyes (may she rest in peace) and Vangie Chaves and I joined a pilgrimage to Rome in 1998. The glory that was Rome during the era of the mighty Roman Empire still permeates the Eternal City so that the prospect of visiting it again and again with family or with bosom buddies has been a magnetic force I eagerly welcome. Todate, I have thrown a coin over my left shoulder at the Fountain of Trevi for eight times. There must be some truth to the saying that the coin-throwing rite at the fabled man-made waterfall assures one of a return trip!
My journal entitled, "Handshake in Rome" tells of this experience in great detail but suffice it to say that I was afforded the privilege of "holding hands" with the late Pope John Paul II as a result of my assistance to two members of our tour group. I helped them navigate through the cobbled streets of the city to the Papal Secretariat which handles the Pope's multifarious activites. I learned that it usually takes five to six months to finalize everything regarding an audience with him. In the journal, I related how I got the privilege of participating in the extraordinary affair even managing the inclusion of Glory and Vangie.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
April , 2011 EASTER & MEDJUGORJE
Happy and joyous Easter is celebrated today. Easter commemorates the triumphant Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. It represents new life and new beginnings, the ultimate realization of hope during the 40-day period of Lent. Once again, we are reminded to focus our attention and energies to hope which is the mark of every Christian.
Amidst the ringing of church bells, lovely potted white lilies adorning main altars and the hugs and kisses of family, relations and friends today, my memory trails back to my visit to Medjugore in 1997. Why? Because I associate an unforgettable experience there with Easter.
Having read and heard so much about the apparition of our Blessed Mother in Medjugore, Gloria Reyes (may she rest in peace), a former co-teacher and I went on a pilgrimage there. At that time, 1997, a war was waging in Yugoslavia among the different states that comprised the country. Croatia was a principal protagonist in the dispute. The strong-willed woman that I was and still am, I went on with the trip with someone whose temperament matched mine. I guess the similarity of our attitude towards life made our friendshhip last for so long. True to newspaper reports, we could hear distant war sounds of boom-boom-boom from all sorts of weapons even as we landed in the airport. I was unnerved. I felt secure in the thought that our Lord and Blessed Mother will always take care of us.
Medjugorje is a village surrounded by mountains and hills. A huge white cross stands majestic on top of a mountain. I learned that the Cross was placed there through the painstaking work fo villagers way back in the 1930's. They did not know then that what they did would play an important role in the relatively recent apparitions of the Blessed Virgin to some youth.
Amidst the ringing of church bells, lovely potted white lilies adorning main altars and the hugs and kisses of family, relations and friends today, my memory trails back to my visit to Medjugore in 1997. Why? Because I associate an unforgettable experience there with Easter.
Having read and heard so much about the apparition of our Blessed Mother in Medjugore, Gloria Reyes (may she rest in peace), a former co-teacher and I went on a pilgrimage there. At that time, 1997, a war was waging in Yugoslavia among the different states that comprised the country. Croatia was a principal protagonist in the dispute. The strong-willed woman that I was and still am, I went on with the trip with someone whose temperament matched mine. I guess the similarity of our attitude towards life made our friendshhip last for so long. True to newspaper reports, we could hear distant war sounds of boom-boom-boom from all sorts of weapons even as we landed in the airport. I was unnerved. I felt secure in the thought that our Lord and Blessed Mother will always take care of us.
Medjugorje is a village surrounded by mountains and hills. A huge white cross stands majestic on top of a mountain. I learned that the Cross was placed there through the painstaking work fo villagers way back in the 1930's. They did not know then that what they did would play an important role in the relatively recent apparitions of the Blessed Virgin to some youth.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
APRIL 23.2011 - OLIVE LEAVES - GETHSEMANE
It is the wee hours of Holy Saturday, 4:23 AM. The activities and TV shows about Good Friday kept me tossing in bed. Sleep stayed away. Among other things, Cielo and I watched the classic film, "The Passion of the Christ" produced by Mel Gibson. Though I had seen it a few times before, I was still so moved by the exceptionally dramatic portrayal of Jesus' last hours. Slowly, the Holy Land sites pertinent to the Passion and Death of Christ unfolded in my mind. I was there! Thank God for the privilege of having walked on the very ground where Jesus walked, seen the scenery which displayed before His eyes on a day-to-day basis and touched some objects whereupon His hands had lain! Praise the Lord!
I remembered having walked the Bethpage route which Jesus took when He entered Jerusalem. Under the noonday sun, our group followed the way in silence minus the joyous cries of "Hossana, Hossana! Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!" Without palm branches, too. I prayed and felt sad remembering that the same crowd that hailed Jesus then was the same one who condemmed Him to be crucified. How fickle-minded can man be? How shallow can man's conviction be? How strong can the force of evil be on man's readiness to compromise? I shook my head in sadness....and in disgust.
The Church of All Nations could be seen as the tour bus climbed up Mount Olives. It was built on the place where Jesus communed with His Father during His agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. The significance of the suffering of Christ is so poignantly made more alive and felt by the darkness that pervaded inside the church. The pale stained-glass windows permitted only a slight glow of the bright sun outside. I believed it was done on purpose. The main altar table was supported by a central structure shaped like a cup since the agony of Jesus is known to be the "Cup of Suffering" for the redemption of mankind. This truth is part of our Christian heritage. Right before the altar lay a large section of rocks bordered by a low (about 10 inches tall) of iron fence of thorns. This was the place where Jesus prayed and sweat blood. The flow of tears by many pilgrims was natural. I spent sometime in the Adoration Chapel which was located on the left side of the church parallel to the main altar. Some thousnd-year-old olive trees could be seen in the courtyard but were protected by flat iron sheets so that it was impossible for any pilgrim to even reach out to pick a leaf.
I espressed my earnest desire to have olive leaves right from the Garden of Gethsemane to Benji Shavit, our guide who actually owned the travel agency in Jerusalem. He said that he knew the "caretaker" and would talk to him about the matter. He added that maybe a small reward would facilitate the request. Without hesitation, I handed a sizeable reward. Within minutes, a smiling bearded middle-aged man came out with Benji. After the usual introductions, he took me across the street from the All Nations Church area and opened a wide huge iron gate with chains larger than the size of my wrists. Lo and behold! Before me lay a large tract of land covered with olive trees whose gnarled roots sprawled above ground. My heart was pounding with excitement! He called a teen-aged boy before we entered. As we walked along the grove, he explained in very good English that most of the trees were more than a thousand years old. He asked the boy to climb up. I watched him break some tiny branches and twigs profuse with olive leaves. I was almost mesmerized with the thought that I was inside the Garden of Gethsemane and that I was witnessing the gathering of olive leaves right from the aged gigantic olive trees! My heart was panting in prayer, "Thank you, God. You are so good to me!"
I shared the olive leaves with the other pilgrims, my family, relations and friends. Do you know something? The olive leaves I have kept since 1994, my first visit to the Garden of Gethsemane are still GREEN up to this date - May 23, 2011. In my succeeding visits to Israel in 1995 and 1999, I was able to get olive leaves through the help of the caretaker. Praise the Lord! But during my first visit to the Holy Land in 1977, I was not able to go to the Garden of Gethsemane. Neither was I able to go to Gethsemane in 2005 when I joined a pilgrimage because of a happening which I will relate in a separate blog.
I remembered having walked the Bethpage route which Jesus took when He entered Jerusalem. Under the noonday sun, our group followed the way in silence minus the joyous cries of "Hossana, Hossana! Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!" Without palm branches, too. I prayed and felt sad remembering that the same crowd that hailed Jesus then was the same one who condemmed Him to be crucified. How fickle-minded can man be? How shallow can man's conviction be? How strong can the force of evil be on man's readiness to compromise? I shook my head in sadness....and in disgust.
The Church of All Nations could be seen as the tour bus climbed up Mount Olives. It was built on the place where Jesus communed with His Father during His agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. The significance of the suffering of Christ is so poignantly made more alive and felt by the darkness that pervaded inside the church. The pale stained-glass windows permitted only a slight glow of the bright sun outside. I believed it was done on purpose. The main altar table was supported by a central structure shaped like a cup since the agony of Jesus is known to be the "Cup of Suffering" for the redemption of mankind. This truth is part of our Christian heritage. Right before the altar lay a large section of rocks bordered by a low (about 10 inches tall) of iron fence of thorns. This was the place where Jesus prayed and sweat blood. The flow of tears by many pilgrims was natural. I spent sometime in the Adoration Chapel which was located on the left side of the church parallel to the main altar. Some thousnd-year-old olive trees could be seen in the courtyard but were protected by flat iron sheets so that it was impossible for any pilgrim to even reach out to pick a leaf.
I espressed my earnest desire to have olive leaves right from the Garden of Gethsemane to Benji Shavit, our guide who actually owned the travel agency in Jerusalem. He said that he knew the "caretaker" and would talk to him about the matter. He added that maybe a small reward would facilitate the request. Without hesitation, I handed a sizeable reward. Within minutes, a smiling bearded middle-aged man came out with Benji. After the usual introductions, he took me across the street from the All Nations Church area and opened a wide huge iron gate with chains larger than the size of my wrists. Lo and behold! Before me lay a large tract of land covered with olive trees whose gnarled roots sprawled above ground. My heart was pounding with excitement! He called a teen-aged boy before we entered. As we walked along the grove, he explained in very good English that most of the trees were more than a thousand years old. He asked the boy to climb up. I watched him break some tiny branches and twigs profuse with olive leaves. I was almost mesmerized with the thought that I was inside the Garden of Gethsemane and that I was witnessing the gathering of olive leaves right from the aged gigantic olive trees! My heart was panting in prayer, "Thank you, God. You are so good to me!"
I shared the olive leaves with the other pilgrims, my family, relations and friends. Do you know something? The olive leaves I have kept since 1994, my first visit to the Garden of Gethsemane are still GREEN up to this date - May 23, 2011. In my succeeding visits to Israel in 1995 and 1999, I was able to get olive leaves through the help of the caretaker. Praise the Lord! But during my first visit to the Holy Land in 1977, I was not able to go to the Garden of Gethsemane. Neither was I able to go to Gethsemane in 2005 when I joined a pilgrimage because of a happening which I will relate in a separate blog.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
APRIL 21, 2011 - HOLY THURSDAY
Today is Holy Thursday, the start of the Tridium of Lent. Through the wonderful medium of the Eternal Word Television Network, the Catholic TV founded by Mother Angelica, I was able to attend via satellite the Holy Mass of the Lord's Supper officiated by Pope Benedict XVI at St. Peter's Square in Rome. It was wonderful! For more than two hours, I felt myself at the place again witnessing a most important ceremony which involved the enactment of Jesus' washing the apostles' feet.
The Catholic Church commemorates on Holy Thursday Jesus' Last Supper and the institution of the Holy Eucharist through the sharing of His Body and Blood. Also, He gave the apostles, in fact the whole mankind, a new commandment, "To love one another as I have loved you." Jesus, Lord and Master, washing the apostles' feet was a manifestation of the version of His love.
The celebration of Holy Week has been an important part of my life since childhood. As far as I can remember, I have kept the observance of the Tridium of Lent yearly through the years even to the extent of purposely being off from work during those days. But one unforgettable year stands out, 1997, when I was on a pilgrimage with my "balae," Lily and Bing to Caracas, Venezuela. We even had to fly from Caracas to Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico on Good Friday. While we attended Mass, I missed the usual activities, Stations of the Cross, Visita Iglesia (visiting of churches)and Seven Last Words Service. This unprecedented experience caused me so much guilty feelings that took a long time to wear off.
Today's Readings dealt on Jesus' instructions regarding the place where they would eat the Passover meal. In Church history, we call it, "The Upper Room." Every pilgrimage to the Holy Land always include a visit to the Upper Room because of its tremendous significance to Christianity.
I recall that during my first visit to the Holy Land in 1977, my time constraints prevented my friends, Ruth and Israel Beit-Halachmi, from taking me to the Upper Room. They were my seatmates in an Air France flight to Geneva, Switzerland in 1977. It was remarkable that they were professed Jews but were so knowledgeable about Jesus and the places associated with Him. In fact, though they resided in Tel-Aviv, they visited Bethlehem three times during Christmas because the Catholics, Greek and Armenian churches celebrate the feastday at different dates based on their own calendar. They took me to their classy boutique of hand-painted glazed glass souvenirs and other artifacts right in Jerusalem. It was the outlet for the goods they themselves manufactured. Was I surprised! Through correspondence, phone calls and my visits to Israel (five times todate) our friendship has withstood time.
During my second visit to the Holy Land in 1994, Regina Tours had the Upper Room in the itinerary. After following the Bethpage route of Jesus and the visit to the Chapel of Dominus Flevit where Jesus wept, our group went to Mount Zion. The Upper Room was located in a building with several entryways. At one door was a man who handed each pilgrim a cap similar to the ones Jewish men used and asked for a dollar. It seemed a requirement before one entered the place of the supposed tomb of David. Dutifully, we paid our dues. Much to my chagrin, the room was so small and narrow just enough for a supposed coffin covered with silk purple cloth. We passed through the room following the length of the box with barely 12 inches away from touching it. A few brass items laid nearby, I wondered whether it was a room or really a tomb. But why was it being used as a passageway to the Upper Room? I knew that David was one of the revered and best loved among the kings of Israel and could not believe that he would be honored in such a manner by the Jewish nation even if the tomb was real or otherwise. I harbored misgivings about it knowing that some unscrupolous minds do operate in different countries and in various ways. It also bothered me that the supposed room of the Tomb of David was immediately situated right below the stairs leading to the Upper Room.
Being in the room where Jesus Christ had His last meal and where He instituted the Holy Eucharist enveloped me with goose flesh. The unbelievable reality that I was there coupled with the tremendous significance of the happenings in the place caused a douwnnpour of tears of sadness and joy altogether. I looked around slowly wanting to take note of every detail on the walls, columns, ceiling and floor. I noted the niche on one wall which could have been the place for the Koran when ithe room became a mosque for sometime. I ran my fingers on the three columns which fomed like a divider in the room , even tried to put my arms around one. I tried to figure out where the low supper table would have been located and where Jesus must have reclined. Didn't they used to recline while partaking meals? My mental image of the apostles seated at table tried to pinpoint Judas' place. He must have sat somewhere near the Master since Jesus handed him a morsel of bread. I remembered that the Jewish custom of individuals dipping food together in the same dish meant a friendship sealed. But Jesus' act of offering Judas a dipped morsel meant that He was giving the traitor another chance to come back into His fold- to soften Judas' hardened heart. That was the extent of the love of Jesus which was later mannifested again in His washing of the spoatles' feet. Then I remembered that our Blessed Mother, apostles and seventy-two other disciples were in the same room during Penticost when the Holy Spirit came to empower them. Where was Mary sitting? I wondered. I clasped my arms close to my heart and mystically felt the heat through my whole being. Praise the Lord!
Then I saw a door on one side of the room, open at that time of our visit. Immediately, I walked towards it and found that it faced a street. I recalled that after the visit of the Holy Spirit, Peter went out of the room and boldly evangelized to the people in the street. I took several deep breaths since the whole scenery attested to what is clearly described in the Book of Acts. It was really the Upper Room because one has to ascend stairs to reach it but was also a room on a street level on one side. I thanked the Lord for the revelation. It was great to be in the Upper Room !!!
The Catholic Church commemorates on Holy Thursday Jesus' Last Supper and the institution of the Holy Eucharist through the sharing of His Body and Blood. Also, He gave the apostles, in fact the whole mankind, a new commandment, "To love one another as I have loved you." Jesus, Lord and Master, washing the apostles' feet was a manifestation of the version of His love.
The celebration of Holy Week has been an important part of my life since childhood. As far as I can remember, I have kept the observance of the Tridium of Lent yearly through the years even to the extent of purposely being off from work during those days. But one unforgettable year stands out, 1997, when I was on a pilgrimage with my "balae," Lily and Bing to Caracas, Venezuela. We even had to fly from Caracas to Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico on Good Friday. While we attended Mass, I missed the usual activities, Stations of the Cross, Visita Iglesia (visiting of churches)and Seven Last Words Service. This unprecedented experience caused me so much guilty feelings that took a long time to wear off.
Today's Readings dealt on Jesus' instructions regarding the place where they would eat the Passover meal. In Church history, we call it, "The Upper Room." Every pilgrimage to the Holy Land always include a visit to the Upper Room because of its tremendous significance to Christianity.
I recall that during my first visit to the Holy Land in 1977, my time constraints prevented my friends, Ruth and Israel Beit-Halachmi, from taking me to the Upper Room. They were my seatmates in an Air France flight to Geneva, Switzerland in 1977. It was remarkable that they were professed Jews but were so knowledgeable about Jesus and the places associated with Him. In fact, though they resided in Tel-Aviv, they visited Bethlehem three times during Christmas because the Catholics, Greek and Armenian churches celebrate the feastday at different dates based on their own calendar. They took me to their classy boutique of hand-painted glazed glass souvenirs and other artifacts right in Jerusalem. It was the outlet for the goods they themselves manufactured. Was I surprised! Through correspondence, phone calls and my visits to Israel (five times todate) our friendship has withstood time.
During my second visit to the Holy Land in 1994, Regina Tours had the Upper Room in the itinerary. After following the Bethpage route of Jesus and the visit to the Chapel of Dominus Flevit where Jesus wept, our group went to Mount Zion. The Upper Room was located in a building with several entryways. At one door was a man who handed each pilgrim a cap similar to the ones Jewish men used and asked for a dollar. It seemed a requirement before one entered the place of the supposed tomb of David. Dutifully, we paid our dues. Much to my chagrin, the room was so small and narrow just enough for a supposed coffin covered with silk purple cloth. We passed through the room following the length of the box with barely 12 inches away from touching it. A few brass items laid nearby, I wondered whether it was a room or really a tomb. But why was it being used as a passageway to the Upper Room? I knew that David was one of the revered and best loved among the kings of Israel and could not believe that he would be honored in such a manner by the Jewish nation even if the tomb was real or otherwise. I harbored misgivings about it knowing that some unscrupolous minds do operate in different countries and in various ways. It also bothered me that the supposed room of the Tomb of David was immediately situated right below the stairs leading to the Upper Room.
Being in the room where Jesus Christ had His last meal and where He instituted the Holy Eucharist enveloped me with goose flesh. The unbelievable reality that I was there coupled with the tremendous significance of the happenings in the place caused a douwnnpour of tears of sadness and joy altogether. I looked around slowly wanting to take note of every detail on the walls, columns, ceiling and floor. I noted the niche on one wall which could have been the place for the Koran when ithe room became a mosque for sometime. I ran my fingers on the three columns which fomed like a divider in the room , even tried to put my arms around one. I tried to figure out where the low supper table would have been located and where Jesus must have reclined. Didn't they used to recline while partaking meals? My mental image of the apostles seated at table tried to pinpoint Judas' place. He must have sat somewhere near the Master since Jesus handed him a morsel of bread. I remembered that the Jewish custom of individuals dipping food together in the same dish meant a friendship sealed. But Jesus' act of offering Judas a dipped morsel meant that He was giving the traitor another chance to come back into His fold- to soften Judas' hardened heart. That was the extent of the love of Jesus which was later mannifested again in His washing of the spoatles' feet. Then I remembered that our Blessed Mother, apostles and seventy-two other disciples were in the same room during Penticost when the Holy Spirit came to empower them. Where was Mary sitting? I wondered. I clasped my arms close to my heart and mystically felt the heat through my whole being. Praise the Lord!
Then I saw a door on one side of the room, open at that time of our visit. Immediately, I walked towards it and found that it faced a street. I recalled that after the visit of the Holy Spirit, Peter went out of the room and boldly evangelized to the people in the street. I took several deep breaths since the whole scenery attested to what is clearly described in the Book of Acts. It was really the Upper Room because one has to ascend stairs to reach it but was also a room on a street level on one side. I thanked the Lord for the revelation. It was great to be in the Upper Room !!!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
MARY SAYS, "HAVE A SEAT "
I remember my first visit to Europe in 1973 to attend a United Nations Commision on Shipping Meeting hosted by UNCTAD in Geneva, Switzerland. Like everyone else who is about to see another part of the world, I was excited and to add to the excitement was the almost unbelievable honor of sitting in a world forum on behalf of my country of birth. But the surge of extreme joy and anticipation was the thought of visiting the Grotto of Lourdes, France, where our Blessed Mother appeared to St. Bernadette. It was a dream I have had through all the years since I first heard the story from my own mother's lips as a child. My mother had a special devotion to our Blessed Lady. both from her readings and oral tradition, she knew many stories about Mary, the Mother of Jesus. She told us about Nuestra Senora dela Porteria ( Our Lady of the Gate) the patron saint of her church in Daraga, Albay of the Bicol Region in the Philippines. She related interesting things about, Our Lady of the Abandoned, the patron saint of Sta. Ana, Manila where I was born and our place of residence for a long time. Having known that the venerated image came from Spain, I was eager to get a replica during my four visits there but to no avail. I think Mother Mary wants me to see Spain again!
Immediately after the conference, I was off from Geneva to Paris and on to the airport in Pau of Southern France. It was a rainy afternoon when I took a shuttle bus to Lourdes with only an Irish gentleman as co-passenger. In the flurry of preparations for the meeting, I failed to consider booking a hotel in Lourdes. Friends have assured me that it would not be a problem since there would hardly be any visitor at Lourdes by late November.
Immediately after the conference, I was off from Geneva to Paris and on to the airport in Pau of Southern France. It was a rainy afternoon when I took a shuttle bus to Lourdes with only an Irish gentleman as co-passenger. In the flurry of preparations for the meeting, I failed to consider booking a hotel in Lourdes. Friends have assured me that it would not be a problem since there would hardly be any visitor at Lourdes by late November.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
March 9, 2011 - ASH WEDNESDAY
Today is Ash Wednesday which marks the beginning of the forty-day Lenten Season. It has been celebrated since the 8th Century. Ashes has traditionally been a sign of repentance and mourning. The imposition of ashes is celebrated by the Roman Catholic Church as well as the Lutherans, Methodists and other Protestant denominations. As we hear the words, "Dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return," we reflect on our own mortality. We humbly acknowledge that we are only transients in this world and that heaven is our true home. As such, our material possessions which we may exceedingly cherish and boast of, will all be left behind. We leave behind all the trappings of our earthly existence when our mortal lives assume immortal dimensions. Naked we came into this world, naked we would leave it! Pope Benedict XVI in his Ash Wednesday homily today at the St. Sabina Church, a 5th Century Church in Rome, said, "Through the personal encounter with the Redeemer and through fasting, almsgiving and prayer, the journey of conversion towards Easter leads us to rediscover our Baptism. We are moved to free our hearts from the burden of material things, from a self-centered relationship with the "world" which impoverishes us and prevents us to be open to God and our neighbors." On this day, we focus on our own sinfulness and resolve to cleanse ourselves from all forms of sin. It brings forth the end of our "unrighteousness." With prayer, fasting and almsgiving highlighting Lent, we renew our relationship with God. We become more acutely aware of His Presence. We confess our many ways we have failed Him, our sins of commission and omissions. We converse with Him the way we do with our close friend, a confidante to whom we can pour out what is in our hearts without fear of rebuke. We can be our true selves without the "mask," the fascade we carry along with us in our everyday lives as we deal with our office mates or others. Lent brings us a greater awareness of God's Presence and also of what He wants of us. We begin to take extra note of the immediate world around us and of its needs. We are jolted into the reality of the need for identifying ourselves and working towards the call for being the "voice of the voiceless and the power for the powerless." Then we think about it, ponder on it some more and finally consider to do small concrete ways to become "God's hands and feet" in this fractured world.
As an addendum to this reflection, may I share with you my experience today? I attended the 6:30 PM Ash Wednesday Mass at the Divine Mercy Catholic Church in Sacramento, California today with my daughter Cielo and grandson, Joshua. The crowd which filled the church spilled over to the narthex, a big welcome area outside the sanctuary proper and to the outer porch. I inched my way inside the church up to the first row of standing worshippers. Immediately, I saw a vacant seat right at the edge of a pew only a few meters away. I was surprised why it had remained unoccupied despite its "prominence" and the milling crowd around. I looked at the people on my right, turned my head to the left and audibly said,"There's a seat," as I pointed with my left thumb. I believed they were entitled to it since they must have been there for some time. They looked at me, but nobody moved. So, I hastened to take the seat. I immediately gazed at the image of our Blessed Mother on the left side of the main altar and said, "Thank you!" Do you wonder why I expressed my gratitude to our Blessed Lady?
As an addendum to this reflection, may I share with you my experience today? I attended the 6:30 PM Ash Wednesday Mass at the Divine Mercy Catholic Church in Sacramento, California today with my daughter Cielo and grandson, Joshua. The crowd which filled the church spilled over to the narthex, a big welcome area outside the sanctuary proper and to the outer porch. I inched my way inside the church up to the first row of standing worshippers. Immediately, I saw a vacant seat right at the edge of a pew only a few meters away. I was surprised why it had remained unoccupied despite its "prominence" and the milling crowd around. I looked at the people on my right, turned my head to the left and audibly said,"There's a seat," as I pointed with my left thumb. I believed they were entitled to it since they must have been there for some time. They looked at me, but nobody moved. So, I hastened to take the seat. I immediately gazed at the image of our Blessed Mother on the left side of the main altar and said, "Thank you!" Do you wonder why I expressed my gratitude to our Blessed Lady?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Jan. 23, 2011 SEA OF GALILEE
The Gospel today is on Jesus's stay in Capharnaum along the shores of the Sea of Galilee and the choice of His apostles.
Many of the pilgrims who visit the Holy Land during summer will long remember the beauty of the calm blue waters of the lake against a background of lush vegetation complimented by the caress of the soft cool breeze. Most of them will understand when the Gospel speaks of Jesus' leaving Nazareth to start His public ministry in and around Galilee. Who can resist the beauty of Galilee?
Have you ever wondered why Jesus chose fishermen to be His close associates - his apostles? When Jesus started His ministry he was already thirty years old. During His growing up years, He must have helped St. Joseph in their own carpentry shop and even have done work in other places along the same work. Accounts of a booming industrial area, Sepphoris, which provided construction jobs to many workers including carpenters during Jesus' time had been historically authenticated. Since it was only a few hours walk from Nazareth, it must have been possible for Jesus and His foster father to have worked there. He must have been exposed to different kinds of work performed by various men of intellect and prowess. Though small and seemingly insignificant, Nazareth must have all the attributes of an organized town in civil, police, medical and judicial affairs. Hence, during His lifetime, Jesus had seen many kinds of human endeavor. So, why did He choose mostly fishermen to be His apostles?
Let us try to find some meaning into Jesus' choice:
1. He chose fishermen because they have the spirit of adventure.
Fishermen venture out into the dark night at sea ready to face whatever comes their way. The sea can be so calm at one moment and in the very next cause untold anxiety by the mighty waves and strong winds. To explore the unknown and be steadfast in their commitment would certainly be a desired quality of an apostle.
2. He chose fishermen because they have the willingness to work as a group.
Teamwork is essential in any undertaking since the efficient sharing of work and rewards, of give and take spells success. A common ideal which binds men of different nature and circumstance makes possible the maximum cooperation among them.
3. He chose fishermen because of their patience.
Waiting for a catch requires patience of a special kind. The ticking of time which can last for hours and in some instances as in the Gospel account when Peter and his companions did not catch a fish for one whole night can be a penultimate test of patience. In the preaching of Jesus' Way to all sorts of people who have never heard of it would definitely be a challenge. It would require a big chunk of patience.
4. He chose fishermen because they were simple men.
Peter and the rest of his men were simple, unschooled, down-to-earth men. They were raw and rugged ready to be molded and polished so that their luster can reflect the light of Jesus, their Master. In His choice of the simple fishermen who have not been marred by the sophistication of the world, Jesus proved His declaration that He does not call the qualified but He qualifies the called. The lives of these men who became Jesus' apostles were totally transformed to become the pillars of our faith.
In my visits to the Holy Land, I particularly enjoyed Capharnaum and the Mount of Beatitudes because the Sea of Galilee is an integral part of their scenery. I have, therefore, attempted to write a few lines about :
GALILEE
How beautiful you are, Oh, Galilee
The serene waves that abound in Thee
St. Peter's fish swim with their young in tow
Amidst the swaying plants so green below.
How I love to be in charming Galilee
In the place where our Lord, Jesus walked with glee
Teaching His apostles - also Peter, James and John
To love everyone with the love He has sown.
The trees and boulders that line your rugged shores
Heard the tales Jesus told with such awesome force
That He will lay down His life to save the world
From sins of the flesh, corruption and the sword.
That to know Him means to study His Word
Reflect on Jesus' parables we won't get bored
Instill in our minds and hearts the way of life
Willing to serve others always with rife.
Eager to help those who knock at our door
For food, for shelter, for counsel and much more.
We can never fathom the power of prayer
Each time we seek God for someone else's welfare.
Oh, Galilee, how you marvelously display
Mother Nature in kaleidoscopic array
The changing colors as the seasons roll by
Complement the fragrance of the breeze coming nigh.
A chosen place you are, Oh, Galilee
From time immemorial to eternity
Oh, Lord, in your mercy and love, let me be
In the bosom of your heart, your own Galilee!
P. S. The cold and cough I had after Christmas led to Bronchitis and finally to Pneumonia so that I was confined for a few days at the Mercy General Hosopital in Sacramento. Hence, I was not able to attend to my Blog. Hopefully, after a complete recovery, I will be able to relate to all of you through Grace's Blog!
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