The Tale of Two Mothers

Fourth Sunday of Advent [December 23, 2018] Luke 1: 46-56

“Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”  (Lk. 1:45)

5236277111_0c2ebf8133_bToday’s Gospel is truly beautiful. We have two protagonists. They are women, and they are both pregnant. Who are they? Mary and Elizabeth. Yet, why is the story beautiful? It is just natural for women to get pregnant. Unless we need to go closer to the stories and place ourselves in the shoes of Mary and Elisabeth, we can never see the true beauty of their story.

First, Mary, she is young, and at the same time, she is pregnant with no husband. St. Joseph is indeed the husband of Mary, but he is not the father of the baby. Perhaps, in our time, if a woman gets pregnant and yet without a husband, this is an unfortunate event, but life goes on for both the woman and child. however, if we go back to the time of Mary, way back two thousand years ago, that woman would be a great disgrace her family and community. She would be expelled from the community, and sometimes, they would be also stoned to death. Mary understands that when she accepts the will of God, to be the mother of Jesus, she faces death. Indeed, death is the future of Mary.

Second, Elizabeth. Elizabeth has a husband, so nobody will stone her, but her situation is also difficult. She is too old to get pregnant. Once I asked my medical doctor-friends, why is it risky to get pregnant if you are old? One said that as we grow old, so does our body and our muscles. With weaker muscles, a mother will have a difficult time during the process of giving birth, and this can be very dangerous to the baby and the mother.  I said further, why not caesarian? They said that it is also difficult if not deadly. As we grow old, our hearts weaken. If we place ourselves under the knife, with weaker hearts, there is a big possibility that we will not wake up. Like Mary, death may be the future of Elizabeth.

If Mary and Elizabeth know that it is dangerous and even deadly to be pregnant, why are they still following the will of the Lord?

The answer is at the very name of Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. Zachariah is from the Hebrew word “Zakar”, meaning to remember. Meanwhile, Elizabeth is formed two Hebrew words, Eli and Sabbath, meaning God’s oath or promise. So if we combine the two names, Zachariah-Elizabeth, they mean “God remembers His promise” or “God fulfills His promise.”

Elizabeth knows it is deadly to have John in her womb, but she still follows the will of God, because she is aware the baby was a fulfillment of God’s promise. Mary from Nazareth, the north part of Israel, travels to Judea, the south of Israel, in haste. But, why in haste? Mary is excited, and she wishes to witness how God fulfills His promise to Elizabeth. The moment Mary sees Elizabeth; she knows that the baby inside her womb is also a fulfillment of God’s promise.

Every child, indeed every on us is the fulfillment of God’s promise. Mary and Elizabeth never see the babies in their wombs as mere inconveniences in their lives or unplanned garbage that can be disposed of. Yet, to accept these babies as gifts of God, Mary and Elizabeth have to be courageous because they are going to sacrifice a lot including their own lives. Elizabeth and Mary are brave women and mothers.

The questions are for us: Who among us is not coming from a woman’s womb? We are all here because of a mother. Indeed, not all mothers are perfect. Some of them are not rich, some are having attitude problems, some are not good examples. Yet, the mere fact we are here now, one woman in our life, against all odds, has decided to courageously accept us as a gift, as the fulfillment of God’s promise. To all mothers, thank you very much.

Deacon Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Broken Enough

Third Sunday of Advent [December 16, 2018] Luke 3:10-18

kneelingThe second question that Archbishop Socrates Villegas of Lingayen-Dagupan asked us during our ordination was, “Are you broken enough?” Once again his question raised eyebrows and was, indeed, counter-intuitive. We want to be flawless, whole and perfect. We desire to achieve more in life, to be wealthy, healthy and pretty. We wish to be socially accepted, respected and gain certain prominence. We want to become somebody, and not nobody. We like others to call us as the famous doctors, the creative entrepreneurs, or successful lawyers. Or for us, people in the Church, we like people to consider us well-sought preachers, generous and builder-priests, or skillful and well-educated sisters.

However, we often forget that the people we serve are broken people. They are broken in many aspects of life. Some are broken financially, some are struggling with health problems, and many are crushed by traumatic experiences in the families. Some are dealing with anger and emotional instability, and some are confronting depression and despair. Some are hurt, and some other are forced to hurt. Many fall victims to injustice and violations of human rights. And all of us are broken by sin. We are serving broken people, and unless we are broken enough like them, our ministry is nothing but superficial and even hypocritical.

Therefore, as the ministers of the Church, we ask ourselves: are we disciplined enough in our study and allow the demands of academic life to push us hard to kiss the ground and continually beg the Truth to enlighten us? Are we patient enough in our life in the community and allow different personalities and conflicts in the seminary, convent or community to shape us up, to make us realize that life is much bigger than ourselves, and to enrich us? Are we resilient enough in our ministry and allow different people in our ministries to challenge our small world, to confront us with failures, and to face a reality that it is not them being served, but us? Are we humble enough in our prayer and allow God to take control of our lives?

In the center of our Eucharistic liturgy are the Word and the Body being broken. The Word of God in the scriptures is read, and the preacher ‘stretches’ and ‘breaks’ it into more relevant and meaningful words for the people of God. The Body of Christ in the consecrated hosts is literally broken, and so this may be enough for everyone. These Word and Body of Christ are broken for the broken people of God. Jesus saves and makes us holy by being one with us, by being broken for us. He is a broken Lord for His broken brothers and sisters.

We the ministers of God are like Jesus Christ, and thus, the questions are: Are we willing to recognize and accept our own imperfections? Are we strong enough to admit that we are weak? Are broken enough that we may share our total selves to our brothers and sisters? Are we like Christ who is broken for others to live?

Deacon Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Weak Enough

Second Sunday of Advent [December 9, 2018] Luke 3:1-6

prayingDuring my ordination, Archbishop Socrates Villegas of Lingayen-Dagupan asked this question to us who would receive the sacred order, “Are you weak enough?” The question was mind-blogging and unexpected because often we have strength, power, and talents as our favorite subjects, and even obsession. We like to show to the world that we are achievers and conquerors. We parade our good education, high-earning job, or a beautiful face. The ‘superior’ mentality does not only affect the lay people traversing in the ordinary world, but also people dressed in white walking through the corridors of the Church. The clergy, as well as religious men and women, are not immune to this hunger for approval and sense of worthiness.

I have to admit also that our formation in the religious life is colored with this kind of ‘spirit.’ The study is important in our Dominican tradition, and we are struggling to meet the academic demands of philosophy and theology. Those who are excelling are honored, but those who are falling, are facing expulsion. Prayer and community life are basic in our spirituality, and we are living to meet the expectations in the seminary or convent, like regular prayers and various community activities. Those who meet the standards may pass the evaluation for ordination or religious profession, but those who are often late or absent, are deemed to have no vocation. Preaching is our name, and we give our all in our ministries. Those who are successful in their apostolate are exemplary, but those who are not able to deliver a good speech may wonder whether they are in the Order or ‘out of order.’

The ordination is for the worthy ones, meaning for those who ace all the requirements. However, the good archbishop reminds us that relying too much on our strength and goodness, we may hamper the work of God in us. When we become too handsome, the people begin focusing on us, rather than the beauty of the liturgy. When we preach too brilliantly, the people start admiring us rather than the Truth of the Word. When we teach too brightly, we outshine the Wisdom made flesh. We forget that all power and talents we have, belong to God, not ours. What we have, are weaknesses.

However, it is only in our weakness that God’s strength is shining brightly. He called Moses who was a murderer and a fugitive, to liberate Israel from the slavery. He called Jonah, a reluctant prophet, to save Nineveh. He chose Simon Peter, who betrayed Jesus, to be the leader of His Church. He appointed Paul, the Pharisee and the persecutor of Christians, to be the greatest apostle. He elected Mary, a poor and insignificant young woman, to be the mother of God.

Are we weak enough to allow God’s strength working in us? Are we enough to allow God’s beauty shining through us? Are we weak enough to let other people see God’s wisdom in us? Are we strong enough to admit that we are weak?

Deacon Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

The Gift of Ordination

First Sunday of Advent [December 2, 2018] Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

ordinationI have been in the Dominican formation for more than 12 years, and if I add four years of my minor seminary formation in Indonesia, it stretches to 16 years! It is insanely long that it occupies a more than half of my life. If we believe that everything has a purpose, I can ask myself, “what is the point of this extremely lengthy formation?” Why should I stay through thick and thin of formation life, through hours of assiduous study, through various programs, through daily rigor of prayer life?

The answer is surprisingly not difficult to see. It is because I want to become a priest and not any priest, it is a Dominican priest, and not only any Dominican priest, but it is a holy, faithful and holistically mature Dominican priest. It looks a simple answer, but every word in that answer carries certain enormous understanding and consequences. Having this so noble aim perhaps explains why the formation is incredibly extensive and long.

However, after passing through literally more than 5 thousand days in the formation, battling many tough examinations, attending countless prayers and spiritual exercise, involving myself in community activities, I am now standing before the threshold of the being-transforming rite what we call the ordination. Looking back, I am aware that I have reached that unprecedented improvements and growth. However, it is also true that I have come short in many aspects. I have committed untold stupidities, things that 14-year-old Bayu would not dare to contemplate. Thank God, that despite these shortcomings, I am still alive!

Honestly evaluating these things, I realize that I am not worthy of this ordination. I could boast some of my achievements, both in academic and non-academic fields. I could show myself as a brother who lives a religious life with certain regularity. I could boast the numbers of talks and lectures I prepared and gave. I could boast the Latin honor I received in every graduation. However, these things are just a bunch of straws!

However, why does this ordination remain within my reach despite my unworthiness? I realize that the vocation to the diaconate is a gift. In Philosophy expounded by St. Thomas Aquinas, I learn my essence is not my existence, meaning to exist is not even my right. Yet, the mere fact, I exist, means God, who is the source of all existence, has willed that I should live. Fundamentally my life is not right or a must, but a gift. My existence is an utter gift of God and so also my ordination. It is not a gift based on a merit system, otherwise, it is called a reward. It is not a gift I could demand because it is my right. It is neither a gift coming from my inheritance nor a gift that I could purchase in the Church. It is a free, absolutely free. God in the mystery of His infinite mercy and wisdom, has decided to grant me this beautiful gift. As I receive this gift despite my unworthiness, I cannot be forever grateful.

The gift does not only speak of me, the recipient. Ultimately it points to the giver. The gift represents how the giver values the recipient. The more valuable the gift is, the more precious the recipient to the giver. The ordinary gift may symbolize the goodwill of the giver, but the gift that hurts the giver is certainly extraordinary because it bears the sacrificial love of the giver. The gift of ordination reveals who my God is. He is God who sees beyond my weakness and flaws, who considers me as His precious own, who dares to share His own life and mission with me. Thus, I am forever grateful.

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

The Tale of Two Kings

The solemnity of Christ the King [November 25, 2018] John 18:33-37

“You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice (John 18:37).”

Our Liturgical Year ends with a drama of two kings: Pilate and Jesus. Pilate was representing the superpower nation in those times, the Roman Empire. So massive in its military domination and so ruthless in its conquests are Rome with her mighty legions. Kingdoms bent their knees in homage to Cesar, the king of kings. Pilate embodied this culture of intimidation and violence. He was a notoriously brutal leader, who stole from his subjects and executed people even without a trial. Surely, he thought of himself as the powerful ‘king’ of Jerusalem and anyone who stoodon his way, would be destroyed. 

We are constantly tempted to belong to this kingdom. A husband refuses to listen to his wife and forces his wills in the family through his physical superiority. Insecure with themselves, bigger and tougher guys bully the smaller and weaker kids in a school. Sadly, it takes place not only in school but almost everywhere: family, workplace, society and even cyberspace. The boss intimidates his employees. The government leaders violently suppress any critical voices no matter correct they may be. In the height of his dictatorship, Joseph Stalin bullied the Church saying, “How many division of tank does the Pope have?” Machiavelli, an Italian philosopher, evenonce concluded that the orderly society is built upon fear and violence

However, we have Jesus, the King. But, what kind of king he is? If He is a king, why does he never put on any royal crown, exceptthe crown of thorns forcefully embeddedon his head (Mat 27:29)? If He is a king, why does he have no imperial throneexcept the germ-plagued manger of Bethlehem and the ghastly wood of the cross(Luk 2:7 and Mark 15:30)? If He is a king, why does he control no formidablearmy, except the disbanded group of naïve followers: one of them sold him for30 pieces of silver, a price of a slave,another denied Him for three times and the rest ran for their lives? Is Jesus really a king? 

Reading our today’s Gospel closely, Jesus says that His kingdom is not of this world. This means that His kingdom does not conform to the standards of this world. It is not built upon military power, forceful domination, or bloody war. Thus, He is king with no golden crown, and his kingdom has no single army. Jesus further reveals that He comes to testify to the truth (John 18:37), and indeed, He is the TruthHimself (John 14:6). He is the king that rules the kingdom of truth, and his subjects are those listen and witness to the truth. His is the Kingdom that turns upside down the values of the earthly kingdom. It is not built upon deceit, coercion, or clever political maneuvers,but upon mercy, justice and honesty. It embodies the genuine love for others even the enemies, service to everyone especially to the poor, and true worshipof God.

At the end of the liturgical year, it is providential that the Church chooses this reading for us to contemplate. From the entire liturgical year, we come to the Churchand listen to the scriptural readings especially the Gospel. We listen to JesusHimself, and we are confronted with various aspects of this one Truth. Now, itis time for us to decide whether we become part of the kingdom of Pilate, or welisten to the Truth and follow Jesus.

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

The Little Apocalypse

Reflection on the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [November 18, 2018] Mark 13:24-32

…they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in the clouds’ with great power and glory… (Mk. 13:26)

The last book of the Bible is called the Book of Apocalypse. The Greek word “ apokalopsis ” means unveiling or revelation.  Thus, the 27th book of the New Testament is also known as the Book of Revelation. It is recognized as an “apocalypse” literature because the book unveils the future events, and usually, these are dramatic happenings at the end of the world. Our Gospel this Sunday is taken from Mark chapter 13, and this chapter is also known as the little “Apocalypse.”

Mark 13 speaks about the coming of the Son of Man. But, reading closely, we discover some distressing and even horrifying events that precede this glorious coming. The Temple of Jerusalem will be demolished, Jesus’ followers will endure severe persecution, and the sun, the moon, and other celestial bodies begin crumbling. This generation will be a terrible time to live.

For modern readers like us, our Gospel today does not sound optimistic at all. In fact, we may question whether it is a Good News of salvation or a nightmarish story that scares little children? For many of us who attend the Sunday mass faithfully, we listen to this little apocalypse at the end of every Church’s liturgical year. Thus, as we have heard it year after year, the story has lost its teeth, and we no longer pay attention to its details. After all, we are still alive and kicking.

However, the apocalypse literature has a different impact and meaning for the first Christians, the original readers of the Gospel of Mark. For the early Church, the apocalypse does not mean to be a horror story, but rather a message of hope.  The early Christians were a tiny minority in the vast Roman empire. Because they were firm in their conviction to worship one God, and refuse to worship Caesars and the Roman gods, they were continually subjects of harassment, persecution and even martyrdom. One of the most brutal persecutions of Christians was under the order of Emperor Nero. He blamed Christians for the fire that consumed parts of the City of Rome. He ordered Christians to be arrested and tortured. Some were fed to the wild beasts. Some were eaten by the hungry dogs. Others were burned at stick to light up the City at night.  In this time of desperation, Mark chapter 13 gave them the Gospel of hope. No matter what happened to Christians, whether it is discrimination, persecution, disaster, or even the end of the world, we are assured that it is God who is in control; He has the final word.

The mere fact we can read this reflection means that we are living in a much better time compared to the persecuted Christians. However, the message of the apocalyptic literature remains true to us and all Jesus’ followers through the ages. Facing daily challenges and toils, unexpected and unfortunate events, and various problems and complexities, we tend to shrink to ourselves, to be frustrated, and lose hope. More and more young people easily get depressed, and some, unfortunately, decide to end their lives. This happens, I believe, because we no longer know how to hope. In his book, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, St. John Paul II was asked whether the holy pope ever doubted his relationship with God, especially in these periods of trouble and difficulty. As a man of hope, his answer was simple yet powerful, “Be not afraid!” The Church should be the school that teaches her children to dare to hope, even hope against all hope, because in the end, God has the final word, and we should not be afraid.

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

The Scribes

Reflection on the 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time [November 11, 2018] Mark 12: 38-44

[the Scribes] devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext, recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very severe condemnation. (Mk. 12:40)

kissing the groundIn Jesus’ time, the scribes are the well-educated Jewish men who are expert in the Law of Moses. Some of them come from the wealthy families, and others hail from the priestly clan. Being able to teach and interpret the Law, they receive the respect and honor from the ancient Jewish society. Thus, ordinary Jews will greet them and prepare them the seats of honor in the synagogues and the banquets. Surely, there is no problem with receiving greetings and sitting as honor guests. Jesus Himself is often greeted as “Teacher” or “Rabbi”, and He attends the banquets as guest of honor (see Mar 14:3). The problem comes when some of the scribes possesses “narcissistic desire” and intentionally look for these privileges.

However, not only Jesus criticizes them for this narcissistic attitude, He gravely condemns also their acts of injustice, particularly “devouring the houses of widows.” In Jesus’ time, widows (Hebrew “almanah”) is considered to be one of the poorest and weakest. They are women who do not only lose their husband, but also fall into deeper poverty because they no longer have anybody to support them. They are lucky if their family and relatives take care of them, but in difficult times, they are left to their own. The Law of Moses provides that the widows, together with the orphans and strangers should be protected (see Deu 10:18).

Since the scribes are the respected and wealthy members of the society, it is a logical choice to entrust the care of Jewish widows to them. Unfortunately, instead helping and defending the widows, some of the scribes oppress and steal from the little the widows have. To steal is evil, but to rob the poor people who place their trust in us is far greater evil. Yet, it is not yet worst. After perfectly hiding their acts of injustice, some of the scribes continue going to the Temple and reciting lengthy prayer, as if there is nothing happens. This is hypocrisy, a double-life attitude at its finest!

As my ordination day to the diaconate is drawing closer, some of my brothers in the community and friends began to call me with title of honor like “reverend” or simply, “rev”. Admittedly, I am not comfortable with it. I wish that the people remain calling me brother. However, it has become the common practice in the Catholic Church to honor her ordained ministers. It is my prayer and my sincere wish I will not be like some of the Scribes who become “narcissistic” and “covets” the people’s adulation and all the privileges it brings. George Weigel, an American Catholic author, in his recent article, traces the root of Catholic anger against the clergy in the US. He writes that while it is true that many clergymen are good and holy, it is the clerical narcissism that builds anger of the Catholic lay.

Learning from the scribes, the narcissism is the seed. The vice grows into hidden acts of injustice. And from evil of injustice, the men in white garment are turning worse as they live in hypocrisy. It is my earnest hope that we continue praying, supporting and even correcting our brothers who are ordained to become the servants of God and His people. Without God’s grace, the right dose of humility and lay people’ prayer and help, our deacons, priests and bishops may become like the scribes who earn Jesus’ condemnation.

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Deacon

Reflection on the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time [November 4, 2018]

Mark 12:28-31

“You shall love the Lord your God… The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” (Mk. 12:30-31)

Seven Deacons (Monochrome)I am currently preparing for my ordination to the diaconate. It is a transitional stage before I become a priest of Jesus Christ. Despite the fact of being transitional, a deacon in itself is an important state in the life of the Church. Bishop Virgilio David, DD of Kalookan reminded the 15 newly-ordained Jesuit deacons in his homily last October that we shall not see a deacon as a mere stepping step toward higher states, like priests and bishops. It is the very core in the layers of concentric circles that make up the ordained ministries of the Church. The diaconate is not a lower rank but the core, without which both the offices of presbyters and bishops collapse. It is the foundation on which we build leadership in the Church. Yet, why do the deacons have to be placed at the core, and become the foundation?

Pope Benedict in his apostolic letter “Omnium in Mentem” clarified further the basic identity of a deacon. He wrote, “deacons are empowered to serve the People of God in the ministries of the liturgy, the word, and charity.” The deacons are the heart of both the ordained and non-ordained ministers of the Church because they perform and remind the most basic duties of every Church’s servants: to serve and love God and His people. The very word deacon is coming from the Greek word, “ diakoneo ” meaning to serve, and therefore, a deacon is someone who serves, a servant. Yet, it is not any service. If we go back to the first chapter of the Gospel of Mark, the first person who serves Jesus, the God-man, is Peter’s mother-in-law (Mar 1:31). She serves Jesus because He has restored her to health. It is not a service done out of fear, but gratitude and love. Thus, to serve and to love are at the very essence of being deacon.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus faces the scribe who asks Him on the first of all the commandments. In the Law of Moses, aside from the famous Ten Commandments, they have hundreds of more commandments. Jesus answers, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” Jesus quotes part of the Shema or the basic Jewish Creed that every devout Jews would recite every day (see Deu 6:4-5). Yet, Jesus does not stop there. He completes the first and the greatest law with another one, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” It also comes from the Old Testament (see Lev 19:18). To the delight of the scribe, Jesus’ answer is an orthodox one, but there is something novel as well.

The connection between first and second turns to be a watershed. For Jesus, true love for God has to be manifested in love for others, and genuine love for others has to be oriented toward God. Thus, it is unthinkable for Jesus to order His disciples to kill for the love of God. Or, Jesus will not be pleased if His followers are busy with performing rituals, but blind to the injustices that plague their communities.

With these Jesus’ first commandments in mind, we can now see why the role of the deacons is fundamental in the Church. The deacons are those who are called and empowered to fulfill Jesus’ commandment of love. The deacons are to serve and love God and His people, both in the context of Christian worship and real life. While it is true that deacons are one of the ordained ministers in the Church, every Christian is also called to become a “deacon” in our lives, to serve God and His people out of love.  Without the heart of a deacon, who is the very core of Church’s ministry, every Christian, whether they are lay or cleric, will lose their identity and fail to accomplish the most fundamental law of Christ.

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Lord, Have Mercy

Reflection on the 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time [October 28, 2018] Mark 10:46-52

“Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.” (Mk. 10:47)

bartimaeusI made my religious vow more than eight years ago with 12 other Dominican brothers. One of the most touching moments within this rite of the religious profession was when Fr. Provincial asked us, “What do you seek?” and we all prostrated, kiss the ground, and declared, “God’s mercy and yours!” After a brief moment, Fr. Provincial asked us to stand, and we began professing our vows before him.  As I recall this defining moment in my life, I am pondering in my heart, “Why it has to be mercy?” Why do we not choose other Christian virtues? Why not fortitude, one of the cardinal virtues in the Christian tradition? Why not love, the greatest of all virtues?

However, religious profession is not an isolated case. If we observe our celebration of the Holy Eucharist, the rite is filled with our pleading for mercy. At the beginning of the Mass, after recalling our sins, we say, “Lord, have mercy” three times. In the Eucharistic prayer, we once again beg mercy that we may be coheirs of eternal life. And, before we receive the Holy Communion, we pray to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, that He may have mercy on us. Not only in the Eucharist, but an appeal for mercy is also found in the other sacraments and devotions. In the sacrament of confession, the formula of absolution begins with addressing God as the Father of Mercy. In every litany to the saints, it always commences with the plead of mercy to the Holy Trinity. Again, the question is why does it have to be mercy?

We may see the glimpse of the answer in our Gospel today. Jesus is leaving Jericho and making his final journey to Jerusalem. Then, suddenly Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, shouts to the top of his lungs, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” He was so persistent that after being rebuked by others, he shouts even louder. Upon hearing the plea of mercy, Jesus who has set his sight on Jerusalem decides to stop. Jesus simply cannot be deaf to Bartimaeus’ appeal. He cannot just ignore mercy. Yet, this is not the only episode where Jesus changes His initial plans and listens to the request for mercy. He cleanses a leper because of mercy (Mrk 1:41). Moved by mercy, He feeds the five thousand and more people (Mrk 6:30). If there is anything that can change the mind and heart of Jesus, the mind and heart of God, it is mercy.

Pope Francis echoes his predecessors, St. Pope John Paul II, and Pope Benedict XVI, saying that the first and essential attribute of God is mercy. Indeed, God as being merciful is discovered in many places in the Bible (see Exo 34:6,7; Dt 4:31; Ps 62:12, etc.). That is why the name of God is mercy. It is our faith that proclaims that God cannot but be merciful. He is God who goes as far as to become human and die on the cross to embrace the wretched sinners like us.

However, what makes Bartimaeus unique is that he was the first in the Gospel of Mark to verbalize the plead for mercy to Jesus. Following the example of Bartimaeus, the Church has continued to become the beggar of God’s mercy. Like Bartimaeus, we verbalize our need for God’s mercy in our worship, our prayers, and our life. We ask mercy when life become tough and unforgiving. We cry “Mercy!” when we are tempted, we fail to please God, or so much harm has been done to ourselves and other people.  Every night before I close my eyes, I recite “Lord, have mercy!” several times, hoping that this will be a habit and my last words when I meet my Creator. We plead for mercy when knowing that we are not worthy of God, we are confident that God will change “His mind” and embrace us once again.

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

True Power

29th Sunday in the Ordinary Time [October 21, 2018] Mark 10:35-45

Whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. (Mk. 10:44)

washing feet“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” This familiar adage comes from an English noble, Lord Acton in his letter to Bishop Mandell Creighton in 1887. Lord Acton observed that people who possessed absolute control over other persons were inclined to abuse their power and exploit their subjects. This happens throughout human history. Jesus and His disciples themselves witnessed these corrupt powerful leaders during their time and eventually, became victims of this corruption.

We recall how Herod the Great commissioned his army to slaughter all the babies under two years old in Bethlehem. He was having a paranoia that a baby born in this town of David would overthrow him from power someday. Herod Antipas, a son of Herod the Great, ordered the beheading of John the Baptist. This was done just to pacify the anger of his whimsical yet anti-critic wife. A Jewish historian, Josephus, narrated how Pilate, the Roman procurator, ruled Judea with iron and bloody hand. He commanded the crucifixion more than two thousand Jews during his brief stint in Jerusalem. With absolute power in their hands, human lives become so cheap. The only thing that matters is how they remain in power.

Ironically, despite witnessing those horrible events, James and John, as well as the rest of the disciples remain obsessed with power. James and John wish that they sit at the right and left hands of Jesus when His kingdom comes. The throne is the symbol of power. We are familiar with box-office hit “Game of Thrones.” This TV series is about people who are struggling to sit on the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdom. And just any game, the different characters use various strategies, including deceit and deceptions to capture this throne. Friends and foes are the ones and the same. Enemies turn to be friends, and allies kill each other. If they cannot be on that throne, at least, they can be next to that seat of power.

Why do we want power so much?  It is because, with power, we are in control. When we are in charge, we have this sense of independence and pride. When autonomy is within our grasp, we cannot but feel good about ourselves. The opposite is also true. When we lose control, we feel terrible. Powerlessness is just awful. Thus, the more power we have, the better we feel. However, this is a mere illusion. No matter how powerful we are, we cannot control everything. The mere fact that we are not able to control the desire to possess power is proof how powerless we are.

Knowing well the irony of power, Jesus gives us a solution: be the servant and slave of all. A slave is a person who is under control of somebody else. In a normal situation, to be slaves are dreadful. Yet, when we have power, our decision to be slaves for others can be liberating. Jesus understands that power is not to be acquired, but to be shared. Power is to empower and not to be hoarded. Yet, it is not the same with yielding to fate, powerlessness, and desperation. Pretty the opposite, to serve and empowering others, we need to exercise our power actively. Think of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She was just a little religious sister who did nothing but dedicated her life for the poor, the abandoned and the dying. She was far from the image of a strong and powerful leader. Yet, because she became the slave of all, she was considered to be one of the most influential and admired persons in the twentieth century. Echoing the words of Her Lord, “God has not called me to be successful. He has called me to be faithful.”

Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP