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Fourth Sunday of Lent

March 31, 2019

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

The Parable of the Prodigal Son is one of the most moving stories of Jesus and has been regarded as the all-time favorite. Why? I guess one of the reasons is the story of the Prodigal Son is also our story.

Let us look at some details of the parable especially the father and the younger son. The son demands his inheritance while his father is still alive and well. That’s a no-no! It simply means the son wishes his father’s death, and wills that he is no longer part of the family [see Sir 33:20-24]. The offended father has the authority to discipline the ungrateful son, but he does not! Because of his tremendous love for the son, he allows the son to get what he wants. Like the son, we often offend the Lord, wishing to be away from Him. We choose “the inheritance”, the good things God created like wealth, power, and pleasure above and over Him. We keep abusing His love and kindness, knowing that He is a Good Father.

However, the younger son’s action has a terrible consequence. The farther he is away from his father, the more pitiful his life becomes. The inheritance without the true owner is nothing but a passing shadow. The Jewish young man loses everything, and even becomes the caretaker of pigs, the very animal Jews hate! He becomes so low to the point of eating what the pigs eat. Like the younger son, without God, we become miserable. Yes, we may become richer, more powerful and famous, but we have lost our souls. We never become truly happy because these pleasurable things without God are mere addiction.

The son comes to his sense when he remembers his father and his life with him. Even the father is far away, it does not mean he is idle. He is drawing his lost son through good memories they share. No matter far we are from God, He is constantly pulling us back to Him through His mysterious ways. Yet, it remains our choice to heed the voice of our conscience but ignore it and plunge ourselves further into sin.

The parable also speaks about the father who is patiently waiting, looking forward to the day that his son returns home. The moment he sees his son from distance, without a second thought, he runs toward his son and embraces him and kisses him. The son never thinks that he deserves to be his son once more, and just wants to be treated like a servant. But, mercy precisely is to receive something we do not deserve. The father receives back his young man as his child.

Allow me to close this simple reflection with a story. In 1988, a terrible earthquake hit Armenia. In just four minutes, buildings crumbled, and thousands died. A man immediately ran to a school where his son studied. He had promised to his son that he would be there to fetch him. He saw that the school was now piles of rubbles. He rushed to the site where the class used to be. He started digging barehandedly. Some people tried to help him but stopped afterward. Some people discouraged him, saying, “It is useless. They are dead!” He refused to give up, and continue digging for hours. Then after more than 30 hours of searching, he heard a small voice from the rubble. He shouted, “Arman!” and he heard a response, “Father!” His boy was still alive, and together with him were other pupils. That day, the man had saved 14 children who got trapped. Arman told his friends, “I told you, my father will come no matter what!”

The parable of the Prodigal Son is so beautiful because it does not only reflect who we are but also reveals who our God is. He is a merciful Father who refuses to give up hope on us, however desperate we have become.

Deacon Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Third Sunday of Lent

March 24, 2019

Luke 13:1-9

“Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future (Luk 13:8).”

It normally takes around three years for a fig tree to reach its maturity and fruition. If it does not produce fruit by that time, it is not likely to bear fruit at all. The owner has a reasonable right to cut the tree, but through the effort of the gardener, it is given another chance. Like the fig tree, through the effort of our Chief Gardener, the new Adam of eternal Eden, Jesus Christ, we are given another chance to change and be fruitful.

However, it is always easier said than done. In daily reality, it is not simply a matter of instantly erasing errors on the whiteboard, of flash and clear-cut change from bad guy to good guy, from villains to heroes. Some of us are merely entrapped in the evil structures or systems that promote sin in us and through us, and we simply do not know how to get out of it. Some of us are victims of vicious cycles of sin in our families or our societies that sooner or later turn us to be the perpetrators, and we are merely powerless to find the way out.

One time, I visited a place for the youth who conflicted with the Law. I met this teenager, Joseph, not his real name. He was arrested for stealing small amount of money, or petty theft. He shared to me his story that he was without parents, and he lived together with a band of snatchers. His elders in the group taught him how to steal and snatch, and after several practices and actual deeds, he developed the habit, not only to take the money, but also to desire for an easy money. He has been in the facility for several times, and every time he was released, he promised himself not to go back to that way of life. Yet, because he no longer knew what to do and where to go outside the facility, he once again stole something for him to fill his hungry stomach. Then, again he was caught.

Then, what does it mean to repent, to change? Is there any point we observe Lenten season every year, yet no apparent change seems to take place? We miss the point if we just think that Lenten season is only about instant change.

It is a story of a struggling fig tree to be fruitful and yet find itself facing desperate end, the story of struggling humanity. It is a story of a gardener who refuses to give up on his tree, a story of God who never loses hope in humanity. The Lenten season means that despite of all our imperfection and disfigured life, we refuse to succumb to despair. It means we take courage to fight hopelessness even when no actual fruit of change seems visible in our lives. It means we always hope in the Lord who never loses hope in us.

Deacon Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno

2nd Sunday of Lent

March 17, 2019

Luke 9:28-36

One time, during a Bible class I facilitated, one of the participants asked me, “how was Peter able to recognize that it was Moses who stood beside Jesus during the Transfiguration?” It was a valid question, and yet I personally never thought of it. I thought of with several possible answers. Perhaps, Moses appeared bringing two stone tables of the Law. Perhaps, as Jesus was conversing with Moses and Elijah, Peter was able to pick up the names. Perhaps, the divine inspiration enlightened Peter’s mind on the identity of Moses. Eventually, I have to answer, “When you go to heaven, don’t forget to ask both Peter and Moses.”

The event of transfiguration is an important moment in the life of Jesus and His disciples. From here, Jesus begins his Passion toward Jerusalem and the cross. The transfiguration takes place to strengthen the faith of the disciples who will witness the gruesome events to be inflicted to their Teacher. However, the transfiguration is not only important for Jesus and His disciples, but surprisingly it is also the moment that Moses has awaited. Why so?

Moses was one of the greatest figures of the Old Testament. To him, the personal name of God was revealed (Exo 3:16). He challenged the great Pharaoh. He led the Hebrew people from the slavery of Egypt into the Promised Land, even passing through the Red Sea. He mediated the covenant between God and the Israel at Mount Sinai (Exo 20). For forty years, he patiently guided and educated the Israel in the desert. Through his hands, many miracles were performed. However, something happened in the desert. At Meribah, Israel complained and asked for water. Moses was instructed by God to command the rock to flow with water, but instead of saying the word, Moses struck his staff on the rock twice. The water indeed flowed but it displeased the Lord. God then said that Moses will not enter the Promised Land (Num 20:1-14). Indeed, Moses finally passed away at Mount Nebo, just before crossing the Jordan river.

It was a heartbreaking story. After faithfully following the Lord, leading the people through thick and thin of life, and bearing a lot of troubles that Israel created, a single mistake made him unable to taste the Promised Land. Both Jewish and Christian Biblical scholars have been puzzled by this difficult text. Indeed, we may keep questioning God for His unfair treatment. Fortunately, the story does not end there. Moses will surely enter the Promised Land, but he has to wait for someone: Jesus and His transfiguration. Truly, Moses does not only enter the Promised Land, but he also once again witnesses the Lord who appeared to him in the burning bush.

Reading the life of Moses without the transfiguration, we may bump into an image of God who is just but heartless, who judged Moses unworthy of entering the Promised Land because of a small error. Yet, with the transfiguration, God ties a loose end in the life of Moses. Like Moses, we may find some events in our lives, that are beyond our understanding, and violate our image of God who is love and mercy. Yet, God allows us to be puzzled and be at loss, in order that we may see how amazing God is going to tie the loose ends in our lives.

Deacon Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

8th Sunday in Ordinary Time

March 3, 2019

Luke 6:39-45

These past three Sundays, we have been listening on the series of Jesus’ teachings given at the Plain [Luk 6:20-49]. Two Sundays ago, we read about the Beatitudes. This is the set of conditions that leads us to true happiness and blessedness. Last Sunday we discover some practical steps to achieve this Beatitude, like we shall love our enemies. And this Sunday, we find the heart of Jesus’ teachings: it is the formation of the heart.

In our contemporary world, the heart generally symbolizes the source of affection, passion and love. Filipinos love basketball, and they give their best support every time their national team compete in international tournaments. Their battle cry is “Laban! Puso!” literally translated as “Fight! Heart!” Surely, the heart here refers to the burning passion to overcome enormous challenges during the ball game.

When a lady is not sure whether to accept or not a man to be her boyfriend, we often advise her to follow her “heart”. When she has a new boyfriend and is in love, she calls him as her “sweetheart”. But, when she suddenly loses her boyfriend because of unexpected betrayal, she suffers an immense “broken heart”. Because of this traumatic experience, she refuses to love anymore, and she now possesses “the heart of stone.” Surely, a lot of hearts!

However, the word “Heart” in Bible has a slightly different meaning from our common understandings. Heart in the Bible is not just the source of our emotional life, but the center of the human life, vitality and personality. It is also the seat of human intellect, judgment and conscience. Thus, when Jesus says “A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good…” it does not simply mean that person has the emotions that support him in doing good. It means a person has a fundamental judgement, stable attitude and permanent character to choose and do good, despite the contrary feelings he has. Good-hearted person can do good even person he hates. For Jesus, heart is not only affection, but it is also action.

In the context, the formation of the heart means the formation of the entire human person. Jesus understands that unless we possess the characters of a good man or woman, we are just staging a play, and become hypocrites [meaning actors] before other people.

How are we going to form our hearts? Jesus gives us a hint as He says, “from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.” The question then is: what fills our hearts? It is evil and wicked things, or good and holy things?

I am currently assigned in General Santos City, Mindanao, Philippines, and one of the highlights of my stay is when I visit and celebrate mass with the female inmates in the city jail. At first, I was hesitant and afraid to interact with them as I perceived them as being “criminals”. These are women with “wicked hearts”. But, I was totally wrong. When I prayed with them, I witnessed women prayed earnestly and deeply in faith. I met this woman, just call her Mary, and I listened to her story. She has been in the prison for five years, and due to ineffective justice system, her trial is still on going. She is a single mother with five children. She was caught using drugs, and she admitted it to escape from the reality of harsh life. She was crying as she narrated her story. And, I asked her what made endure her terrible situation. She simply answered, “I have God in my heart.”

We are living in much better condition than Mary, but do we have God in our heart? What fills our heart? Do we fill our hearts with Godly things? Do we allow God to reign in our hearts?

Deacon Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP