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Solemnity of the Pentecost

May 20, 2018

Jn 20:19-23

 

“We hear them speaking in our own tongues of the mighty acts of God (Acts 2:11)”

 

Just a week ago, three churches in Surabaya, Indonesia were attacked by suicide bombers.  Fear immediately seized me knowing the bombing sites were not far from our Indonesian Dominican community. Some of my good friends were from Surabaya, and they might have been harmed by the senseless explosions. I was somehow able to breathe upon knowing that they were safe, but part of my heart remained deeply hurt because many people, Christians and Moslems, police officers, ordinary citizen, and even children, died and were wounded. These were people with their hopes and dreams, their stories and faith, with family and friends. Yet, the brutal attacks instantly destroyed all. As we are now celebrating the Pentecost, we may ask ourselves: What does it mean to celebrate the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in a world chocked by fear and violence? How do we call ourselves the hopeful Pentecost People in the midst of persecution and death?

On the day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit does appear in the form of the tongues of fire and rests on each apostle and disciple. They are filled with the Holy Spirit and begin to speak different languages and to proclaim the mighty acts of God to people coming from many nations. From the story, we discover that people from different languages and nations are able to understand, and begin to be one community as they listen to the mighty acts of God. Thus, the mission of the Holy Spirit is to become the principle of connection and unity among people separated by many walls and divisions.

We are coming from different languages, culture, and nations, having diverse upbringings, characters, and value system. We possess different convictions, beliefs, and faith. It is the work of the devil to sow the seed of fear and lies, and with so much fear and misconceptions of the others, it is easier to build higher fences and dig deeper trenches. These are the roots of fundamentalism and radicalism that kills rather than heals.

The Holy Spirit pushes us to go out from ourselves and reach to the others. If we are created in the image of the Holy Trinity, and if the Trinity is three unique divine persons living in the unity of love, we are designed to be unique individuals and yet we are also made as a person with others and for others. The Holy Spirit is like a mother eagle that when the right time comes, will throw its young brood from the cliff and let them learn how to fly gracefully like a mature eagles.

Hours after the bombing, people also flooded the hospitals where the terror victims were treated and offered themselves to be blood donors for the victims. One remarks that blood knows no ethnicity, religion or nation; it only knows type O, A, B or AB! The Holy Spirit works against the work of the devil, the father of lies. Thus, the Holy Spirit empowers us to proclaim the truth and the mighty acts of God. Minutes after the bombing, the social media was flooded by a graphic picture of people killed as to spread fear, but then the Indonesian netizens refused to share further the fear and began to place in their social media accounts hashtag #wearenotafraid.

The heroic stories also emerge. There is Aloysius Bayu, a parish volunteer, who died in the explosion. Had he not stopped the terrorists who tried to enter the church premises, countless people could have died that day. His death does not only end his life but also scatters the life of a woman who expects his husband to come home and a little baby who needs her father. Yet, it is not without hope. It succumbs to fear or anger, Bayu’s friends see his death as a sacrifice that leads to a new hope. One of his friends remarks, “We must not stop going to the Church because of fear. If we stop, Bayu would have died for nothing.” The Holy Spirit does not blind us to the harsh and ugly world we have, but the Holy Spirit empowers us to be brave and work for better future of this world.

 

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

photo by Harry Setianto SJ

(for +Fr. Mark Anthony Ventura)

 

Sixth Sunday of Easter

May 6, 2018

John 15:9-17

 

We are living in the part of the world that violence and death have become our daily consumption. Every day, people’s lives are forcibly snatched away for unbelievably trivial reasons. Parents kill their babies. Brothers murder their brothers. Friends manipulate and sell their friends. Some of us used to go down on the street and cry for justice. Yet, many of us are just busy with daily pressing concerns like works, study and chores. We become numb or blind to the soil that has been painted red by the blood of our brothers and sisters. The life, precious in the eyes of God, turns out to be cheap at the hands of men.

However, few days ago, I was deeply troubled by the news of a young priest brutally murdered. His name is Fr. Mark Ventura, and he was just 37 years old when he was merciless gunned down. His life was taken moments after he celebrated his morning mass in Cagayan, Philippines. He was still inside the small chapel, had given his blessing to children and suddenly, an unidentified man shot him. His advocacy for justice and peace in his place may be the reason why he lived so short.

His death is less dramatic than of Archbishop Oscar Romero of San Salvador. The holy bishop was killed right after consecration of the body and blood of Christ, and he fell to the ground, his blood was mingled with the blood of Christ. Another bishop, a Dominican Bishop Pierre Claverie, OP of Oran, Algeria suffered the same fate. The terrorists planted a bomb in his car, and its explosion did not only kill Bishop Pierre, but also his young Muslim friend and driver. In a bloody scene, his flesh was mixed with the flesh of his Muslim friend. Yet, that is beside the point. Witnessing Fr. Mark’s body laying soulless on the ground and soaked with blood, is not only deeply disturbing, but is also deeply hurtful. It is enormously disturbing because it gives us the chilling effect that if these evil men could mercilessly kill a priest, the herald of forgiveness and mercy, now they may kill anyone who stands on their way. Yet, his death is also painful because his death is also our death as the People of God. His white soutane soiled and colored by blood, is our white garment we wore during our baptism. His lifeless hands used to bless the people and consecrate the holy hosts and wine, are also our hands that raise our children and build our society. His silenced mouth used to proclaim the Good News, to forgive sins, and to denounce evil, are also our mouth that receive the Holy Communion and teach wisdom to our children. The murder of Fr. Mark is a murder of a priest, and symbolically it is the killing of all of us, Christians.

The way of the priesthood is what some of us choose, the way that often provides us with earthly comforts, and unexpected bonuses; the way that catapults us from a rug to a rich kid; and the way that showers us with fame, success, and glory. Yet, it is the same way that confronts us with the face of evil; the way that challenges us to be at the side of the victims and to denounce injustice; and the way that gets us persecuted, mocked and killed. The choice is ours. To end my humble reflection, let me quote Archbishop Oscar Romero, “A church that doesn’t provoke any crises, a gospel that doesn’t unsettle, a word of God that doesn’t get under anyone’s skin, a word of God that doesn’t touch the real sin of the society in which it is being proclaimed — what gospel is that?”

 

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

 

Fifth Sunday of Easter

April 29, 2018

John 15:1-8

 

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. (John 15:1)”

 

If Jesus is a carpenter, why does He speak about the vine in today’s Gospel? Does He have the competency to draw wisdom from a field that is not His expertise? We recall that Jesus grows and lives in Galilee, and in this northern region of Israel, the land is relatively fertile and agricultural industry is thriving. Some archeological findings suggest that in Nazareth, despite being a small village, the community members are engaged in small time farming, grapes press, and winemaking. A young Jesus must have been involved with this farming activities and perhaps even helped in a nearby vineyard. Thus, Jesus does not hesitate to teach wisdom using the imageries coming from the agricultural settings, like parables related to the vineyard (Mat 20:1-16), planting seeds (Mat 13:1-9), wheat and weed (Mat 13:24-30), and harvest (Mat 9:35).

 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells His disciples that He is the true vine and His Father is the vine grower. Like Jesus, the disciples are certainly familiar with grapes plantations and wine production. In fact, for the Jews, drinking wine is not mere merriment, but also an essential part of their ritual Passover meal in which they relive the experience of liberation from Egypt. Thus, the images of the vine, vine grower and vine branches are not only familiar to the disciples, but turn out to be potent means to deliver Jesus’ teaching.

 

The context of this teaching is Jesus’ Last Supper, and we imagine that as Jesus teaches this truth, the disciples are enjoying their meal and cup of wine. As they are drinking the wine, it is at the back of the disciples’ mind that the high-quality wine comes from superior-quality grapes, and these grapes are produced by the best vineyard with its healthy vine and hardworking vine growers. From the taste of the wine, one can assess not only the value of the wine but also the entire production, from the vineyard (viticulture) to the winemaking (vinification). Through this imagery, Jesus has assured His disciples that He and His Father have done their share in making the branches fruitful, and now it is the free choice of the disciples to bear the fruits. As branches, the only way to produce fruits is to remain united with the true vine.

 

The instruction of Jesus to remain in Him seems not difficult to follow. But, just hours after the Last Supper, Jesus will be arrested, and the disciples immediately forget everything that Jesus says. Judas betrays Him, Peter denies Him, and the rest run away and hide. Only a few disciples remain with Him, some women disciples, the Beloved Disciple, and His mother. The point is clear now. It is easy to remain with Jesus when things are easy and convenient, but when the things get tough, the disciples are facing an existential question whether to remain in Jesus or to abandon Him.

 

The question is now given to us. When our lives become desert-like and do not yield expected fruits, are we going to remain in Jesus? A friend told me how he was initially excited to serve the Church by joining an organization. Yet, after some time, he got frustrated by scandalizing attitudes of some members. He realized that the group was no different with other organizations that were plagued by gossips, intrigues, and factionalism. Naturally, I advised him to leave the group and look for a better group, like the Dominicans! Yet, he chose to remain and said to me that this difficult group provides him an opportunity to love Jesus more. Then, I realize that the mere fact that he stays, he has unexpectedly borne much fruits: patience, mercy, and understanding.

 

The same question now is addressed to us. Shall we remain in Christ in challenging times? Do we stay even when we do not feel the fruits? Do we remain faithful till the end?

 

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Photo by Harry Setianto, SJ