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Freedom From Fear
By: Rev. Ruben M. Tanseco, S.J.
First published in The Philippine Star, April 12, 2009.
Here is a challenging description of the Resurrection that we are missioned to live by, here and now, and not after we die.
"Clearly, on that Easter morning, something happened to Jesus. But something happened to his disciples, too. They went hiding after the crucifixion. But after the news of Mary Magdalene, Mary and Salome, and the resurrection appearances (of Jesus), they walked back into the world. They became braver and stronger; they visited strangers; they healed the sick. It's not only what they saw when they saw Jesus, or how the saw it, but what was set free in them.
"What if the life after death (that) Jesus reveals is not a life exclusively for the dead? What if it's a life available to us all, something that we, the living, can participate in, too? What if the resurrection is not about the appearances of Jesus alone but also about what those appearances pointed to, what the Risen Jesus asked?
"The resurrection of Jesus is a resurrection within us, now, in this time and place. A new pattern of events is set free around us, a new way of looking at one another and our world is opened up. It is what we do with this new freedom that matters.
"We have to practice resurrection." (From Connections, April 2009)
You and I are missioned by the Lord to be aware, experience, and practice resurrection in the here and now, from day to day, month to month, year to year, until we move on to an even greater and eternal resurrection. And this involves and absolute freedom from fear. A total attachment to the Risen Lord as the only absolute in life. Everything else is relative. Everything. My life, my relationships, talents and treasures. They come and go, in God's own time. Wealth, power, fame, everything. God is the only absolute. So that when I attach myself totally to God, I am liberated from all my human fears--fears of my own pains, losses, crosses and failures. All this and more is a way of life, a spirituality all its own, and we are invited by the Risen Lord to experience it in our lives, here and now.
This family-loving Filipino was 40 years old, when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Six months later, at his death bed and surrounded by his wife and four, growing children, he expressed between sobs his last goodbye: "I never thought I would go this early. It was for all of you that I lived my life. Very soon I must go. But God is with you, and He will never go. He will take care of you much better that I ever did. So do not be afraid. I know you will miss me terribly, as I will miss you, too. But do not be afraid, for God is always with you..." He closed his eyes, and after a little while, he breathed no more. The family mourned for many, many months but at the same time lived their resurrection with the Lord. They became even closer to one another than ever before.
Side by side with our resurrection in our personal and family lives, is our resurrection in our national life. National elections are coming in 2010, and in my deepest faith, I trust that in God's own providence, we are experiencing a national dying as well as a national resurrection.
Time and again, I have emphasized in this column our national mission from God as POLITICAL SPIRITUALITY. We must not separate our affairs of state from the sovereignty of Almighty God. We must not separate the secular from the sacred. All our efforts for the common good of our people, and motivated by love and justice, is no less than political spirituality. Interfaith. Inter-religious. This must be activated both from below and from above. It is in this context that our choice for the next president of our beloved country is crucial and must be God-inspired.
This is where our leaders from the different religious denominations must collaborate in the moral and spiritual politicization of our people. Many of our voters need a lot of maturing and guidance. Voting out of God-inspired moral principles and not out of personality cultism. This is our mission from the Lord.
Some qualities in the person of our next President must be clearly and consistently present. A marked competence in political leadership and governance, undisputed moral integrity, a deep love for our country and our people, especially the poor and underprivileged, and most of all, a God-centered life. And by God-centered, we do not mean a political leader, who religiously goes to church services on Sundays or the Sabbath, but (who) is actually a trapo politician for the rest of the week.
The way we will choose our next president is no less than a practice of the resurrection. The Risen Lord is with us and will always be with us, for as long as we surrender ourselves to Him as the Only Absolute in life. Amen.
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Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Good Friday and Holy Saturday
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A Meditation
By: Caryll Houselander
From the publication, Magnificat, Holy Week 2009
At Christ's death as at his birth, the circumstances of Christianity were the same as they are today.
In all this, there is some truth. Where Christ is, Judas is. There always has been, and there always will be, a bloody hand to take the thirty pieces of silver. But it is curious that Christ is doubted because he is consistent, and does not change, but remains true in every detail to his passion and its circumstances.
On the night of the first Good Friday, Christianity looked like a failure--it was a post-Christian world, Jerusalem moaned in her sleep, uneasy, threatened by war that might destroy her. The Apostles had fled. Judas hung from a tree. Christ was dead. All that was left in the world to show that he had lived was the empty cross on which he had died.
The poor huddled together, frightened and miserable, in the slums of the city; the lepers cowered in their caves in despair; sinners trembled, flung back into the hands of men. What now of the dreams that the prophet-poet had imposed upon them? "Blessed are the poor?" What now of the pure of heart who should see God? They had seen the man who said that he was God nailed up like vermin, bruised, disfigured, flogged, his face covered in filth and blood and the spitting of the crowd. They had heard his voice, the same voice that had cried out so lyrically on the mountainside that not even a sparrow falls without the Father's knowledge, crying out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
Christ rested in the tomb. He had done all that he could do and had given all that he had. He had trusted his Father and slept, darkness in his eyes, silence in his ears, peace in his heart.
Once he had slept in a boat that was tossed by storm. He slept now while a storm of evil tossed the world: the evil that flings itself in hatred against whatever is good, whatever is pure, the evil that seeks to kill God.
Christ slept. He had overcome the world; its storm could not touch the serenity of his consummated love. The hours moved slowly onwards through the terror and despair of that dark night, reaching out longingly to the moment of resurrection, the secret moment of ineffable love: the moment of the first heartbeat of the risen Christ.
In that first beat of the heart of the man who had died, the resurrection of the whole world would be contained.
Editor's note: Caryll Houselander (+1954) was a British mystic, poet and spiritual teacher.
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What do you think of Caryll's meditation? Click on the word "comments" just below. Do you have your own testimony of distress and redemption? Submit it here on ePinoy Talk. Ask questions. Click on Magtanong sa Doktor or Magtanong sa Psychologist. Share your thoughts, feelings and experiences. Stay in touch!
Click here to set an appointment with the psychologists and doctors on our website.
Click to return to website: www.ofwparasapamilya.com
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A Meditation
By: Caryll Houselander
From the publication, Magnificat, Holy Week 2009
At Christ's death as at his birth, the circumstances of Christianity were the same as they are today.
In all this, there is some truth. Where Christ is, Judas is. There always has been, and there always will be, a bloody hand to take the thirty pieces of silver. But it is curious that Christ is doubted because he is consistent, and does not change, but remains true in every detail to his passion and its circumstances.
On the night of the first Good Friday, Christianity looked like a failure--it was a post-Christian world, Jerusalem moaned in her sleep, uneasy, threatened by war that might destroy her. The Apostles had fled. Judas hung from a tree. Christ was dead. All that was left in the world to show that he had lived was the empty cross on which he had died.
The poor huddled together, frightened and miserable, in the slums of the city; the lepers cowered in their caves in despair; sinners trembled, flung back into the hands of men. What now of the dreams that the prophet-poet had imposed upon them? "Blessed are the poor?" What now of the pure of heart who should see God? They had seen the man who said that he was God nailed up like vermin, bruised, disfigured, flogged, his face covered in filth and blood and the spitting of the crowd. They had heard his voice, the same voice that had cried out so lyrically on the mountainside that not even a sparrow falls without the Father's knowledge, crying out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
Christ rested in the tomb. He had done all that he could do and had given all that he had. He had trusted his Father and slept, darkness in his eyes, silence in his ears, peace in his heart.
Once he had slept in a boat that was tossed by storm. He slept now while a storm of evil tossed the world: the evil that flings itself in hatred against whatever is good, whatever is pure, the evil that seeks to kill God.
Christ slept. He had overcome the world; its storm could not touch the serenity of his consummated love. The hours moved slowly onwards through the terror and despair of that dark night, reaching out longingly to the moment of resurrection, the secret moment of ineffable love: the moment of the first heartbeat of the risen Christ.
In that first beat of the heart of the man who had died, the resurrection of the whole world would be contained.
Editor's note: Caryll Houselander (+1954) was a British mystic, poet and spiritual teacher.
---------------
What do you think of Caryll's meditation? Click on the word "comments" just below. Do you have your own testimony of distress and redemption? Submit it here on ePinoy Talk. Ask questions. Click on Magtanong sa Doktor or Magtanong sa Psychologist. Share your thoughts, feelings and experiences. Stay in touch!
Click here to set an appointment with the psychologists and doctors on our website.
Click to return to website: www.ofwparasapamilya.com
---------------
Sunday, April 5, 2009
A Story of One's Hour of Distress and Redemption
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“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
A Testimony of the Saints
By: Kanaria 2448 (Canada)
I truly did not understand what this Beatitude meant until one summer’s day in June when my family and I went to the town of Assisi, the birthplace of St. Francis and St. Clare. I learned about saints from school and church but I did not believe that they could really help. Miracles, especially their miracles, I thought, are only reserved for people who had faith.
My Mom’s entire family – 7 siblings, their spouses, and their children -spent the whole of June 1994 in Italy to celebrate the 50th golden wedding anniversary of my grandparents. What was supposed to be a wonderful occasion was very sad for my own immediate family. Just as my grandparents celebrated 50 years together, my Mom and Dad ended their marriage of 22 years.
Even though my relatives were celebrating, my heart was shattered into a thousand pieces that no one, not even the Lord, I thought, could fix.
For that whole month I dreaded to think of being part of a statistic of broken families; I dared not think going home to a house without a father. I envied my friends. Their parents were still together. And others, they had a great relationship with their fathers, but I did not.
With my parents’ separation, I feared my relationship with my father would create an even greater divide between us. I was afraid my parents were going to ask me to choose where I was going to live or admit to who I loved more. How could I?
Chaos churned inside of me but I kept silent. Choosing to live and love Mom more than Dad or vice versa, they can’t possibly ask me? Could they? I was hungry for love, for understanding. I ached to know, “Why?”
Empty and lost, I was the ship swallowed whole by swollen waves, left to drown in a black hole, a void. I could not see the way out. I wanted to die.
What better place to die than in a town called Assisi?
I told my Mom I loved her and that I was going to explore the town, alone. For the last time, my eyes traced the curve of her lips, every line and wrinkle on her face, so all of it will be etched in my memory forever. At 16, I was going to walk out on life to end my pain, my suffering.
Through the alleys of Assisi, I half ran and walked in search for the place to end it all. But every time I found the place, thoughts ran through my head, “Not yet. Don’t,” a male voice whispered.
I barked back, “Why? WHY? Can’t you see I’m in pain?” I moved on past tourists, monks, place of businesses, and nuns.
The next place didn’t seem to be good enough either because the male voice repeated, “Not yet. Don’t.” This internal battle continued for a good 45 minutes until I found myself on the last place on earth I should be – on the steps of the church of St. Francis.
I froze. How could I be in a place of holiness and worship when all I wanted to do was end my life, my pain, my suffering?
I wanted to turn back and continue my search but I found myself going into the church and sitting on a pew, instead. There, I could not help but look up at several hundred year old paintings that showed different scenes in the Bible. I was in awe of its beauty.
Then I had a childhood flashback to when Mom used to read Bible stories to my brother and me at bedtime. Gradually, my pain began to recede. Slowly, the pinprick of light widened to a wingspan. Little by little my sorrow was transformed to joy, then to love. “No. Not yet. Don’t. Love. Life,” the male voice said. A good half hour must have passed as I sat alone on the pew, lost in my memories.
As I left the church, I knew I had made a decision. The months and years ahead were going to be tough but I felt I was going to be all right.
“Love. Life.” The gentle breeze whispered, bathing me in peace.
“Love. Life,” that fateful June day in 1994, the Lord - with the help of St. Francis of Assisi, who I believe was the male voice who continuously whispered to me - was there to comfort and help in my darkest hour.
Was it a miracle? Perhaps.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
“Love. Life.” If I ended my life then, all I know is what a world I would have missed.
“Love. Life.” I come before you today to testify that when you and I are faced with a situation when we feel most vulnerable and alone, know and realize that you are being embraced in the arms of Jesus’ love. For in His arms of love, there lies comfort, refuge, and peace.
Amen.
---------------
What do you think of Kanaria's personal story? Click on the word "comments" just below. Do you have your own testimony of distress and redemption? Submit it here on ePinoy Talk. Ask questions. Click on Magtanong sa Doktor or Magtanong sa Psychologist. Share your thoughts, feelings and experiences. Stay in touch!
Click here to set an appointment with the psychologists and doctors on our website.
Click to return to website: www.ofwparasapamilya.com
---------------
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
A Testimony of the Saints
By: Kanaria 2448 (Canada)
I truly did not understand what this Beatitude meant until one summer’s day in June when my family and I went to the town of Assisi, the birthplace of St. Francis and St. Clare. I learned about saints from school and church but I did not believe that they could really help. Miracles, especially their miracles, I thought, are only reserved for people who had faith.
My Mom’s entire family – 7 siblings, their spouses, and their children -spent the whole of June 1994 in Italy to celebrate the 50th golden wedding anniversary of my grandparents. What was supposed to be a wonderful occasion was very sad for my own immediate family. Just as my grandparents celebrated 50 years together, my Mom and Dad ended their marriage of 22 years.
Even though my relatives were celebrating, my heart was shattered into a thousand pieces that no one, not even the Lord, I thought, could fix.
For that whole month I dreaded to think of being part of a statistic of broken families; I dared not think going home to a house without a father. I envied my friends. Their parents were still together. And others, they had a great relationship with their fathers, but I did not.
With my parents’ separation, I feared my relationship with my father would create an even greater divide between us. I was afraid my parents were going to ask me to choose where I was going to live or admit to who I loved more. How could I?
Chaos churned inside of me but I kept silent. Choosing to live and love Mom more than Dad or vice versa, they can’t possibly ask me? Could they? I was hungry for love, for understanding. I ached to know, “Why?”
Empty and lost, I was the ship swallowed whole by swollen waves, left to drown in a black hole, a void. I could not see the way out. I wanted to die.
What better place to die than in a town called Assisi?
I told my Mom I loved her and that I was going to explore the town, alone. For the last time, my eyes traced the curve of her lips, every line and wrinkle on her face, so all of it will be etched in my memory forever. At 16, I was going to walk out on life to end my pain, my suffering.
Through the alleys of Assisi, I half ran and walked in search for the place to end it all. But every time I found the place, thoughts ran through my head, “Not yet. Don’t,” a male voice whispered.
I barked back, “Why? WHY? Can’t you see I’m in pain?” I moved on past tourists, monks, place of businesses, and nuns.
The next place didn’t seem to be good enough either because the male voice repeated, “Not yet. Don’t.” This internal battle continued for a good 45 minutes until I found myself on the last place on earth I should be – on the steps of the church of St. Francis.
I froze. How could I be in a place of holiness and worship when all I wanted to do was end my life, my pain, my suffering?
I wanted to turn back and continue my search but I found myself going into the church and sitting on a pew, instead. There, I could not help but look up at several hundred year old paintings that showed different scenes in the Bible. I was in awe of its beauty.
Then I had a childhood flashback to when Mom used to read Bible stories to my brother and me at bedtime. Gradually, my pain began to recede. Slowly, the pinprick of light widened to a wingspan. Little by little my sorrow was transformed to joy, then to love. “No. Not yet. Don’t. Love. Life,” the male voice said. A good half hour must have passed as I sat alone on the pew, lost in my memories.
As I left the church, I knew I had made a decision. The months and years ahead were going to be tough but I felt I was going to be all right.
“Love. Life.” The gentle breeze whispered, bathing me in peace.
“Love. Life,” that fateful June day in 1994, the Lord - with the help of St. Francis of Assisi, who I believe was the male voice who continuously whispered to me - was there to comfort and help in my darkest hour.
Was it a miracle? Perhaps.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
“Love. Life.” If I ended my life then, all I know is what a world I would have missed.
“Love. Life.” I come before you today to testify that when you and I are faced with a situation when we feel most vulnerable and alone, know and realize that you are being embraced in the arms of Jesus’ love. For in His arms of love, there lies comfort, refuge, and peace.
Amen.
---------------
What do you think of Kanaria's personal story? Click on the word "comments" just below. Do you have your own testimony of distress and redemption? Submit it here on ePinoy Talk. Ask questions. Click on Magtanong sa Doktor or Magtanong sa Psychologist. Share your thoughts, feelings and experiences. Stay in touch!
Click here to set an appointment with the psychologists and doctors on our website.
Click to return to website: www.ofwparasapamilya.com
---------------
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