HOMILY
Wednesday, 7 January 2010
Most Rev. Patricio A. Buzon, SDB,D.D.
Bishop of Kabankalan
In our work of vocation promotion, the question we usually ask our young applicants is, “why do you wish to enter the seminary?” To which their usual reply is, ‘To become priest.” We would then press them with a follow up question, “Why do you want to become a priest?” And their answer would be something like, “to offer my life to God…to serve him…to serve the church…” Or some other expressions to the same effect.
I used to smile at the naiveté of such answers. Often I couldn’t help but wonder if these young applicants really knew the full implication of what they aspired for. But for all their simplicity and innocence I knew that many of them were sincere. When I was tasked to give the homily for this mass, the organizers of the of the congress asked me to focus our reflection on the theme of the day, which is oblation, “ our personal offering of self, as well as the corporate body of priests to God, the Father, in accordance to his holy will.”
The scenario I mentioned earlier could well be our own story. We too gave similar answers when we applied for the seminary. we were then young and idealistic, ready to give our life in total service to God. Indeed, that was one shining moment in our life-a moment of pure and generous oblation.
What happened since then? How come that through the years, we gradually took back the give of self we had liberally offered in the beginning? How did our young and generous heart turn into a hesitant and calculating compromiser? Could it be that we really did not understand what we were entering into when we joined the seminary? That we did not know the full implication of our vocational response?
In Philippine society, the figure of the priest is both important and attractive. He is seen as one who represents the people and a little below God. The people readily lavish him with respect and favor. Moreover, in our culture, the priest’s ascendancy over the people is more pervasive and goes beyond his religious function. Rightly or wrongly, he represents his people not only in front of God but also in front of men. Thus the priesthood is a position of privilege and power. In public gatherings, the priest stands side by side with the mayor and the local officials (as we can also find the bishop side by side with the national officials or even with the president). This is the side of our priesthood that we are familiar with, and feel comfortable with.
There is however another dimension of our priesthood which we often forget. Christ, the Priest, is also Christ, the Victim. Our call to configure to Christ is a call to identify with the whole Christ – Priest and Victim.” But when Christ came as High Priest of the good things that have come to be, passing through the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made by hands, that is, not belonging to his creation, he entered once and for all into the sanctuary, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal salvation.” (Hb 9:11-12)
Thus, Christ not only perfected the priesthood of the Old Testament, but also rendered all other types of priesthood ineffective. Being God and man, he is the perfect priest who alone can worthily represent man before the father and intercede for him. Submitting himself as victim, he offers perfect sacrifice of himself which alone pleasing to God. Thus, Christ stands in front of God as the one and only true priest.
Our priesthood is a participation in the one priesthood of Christ. Our primary task and commitment then is to configure ourselves to Christ, the whole Christ, Priest and Victim. By our ordination we are called to offer the sacrifice with Christ as priest, well as to offer ourselves with him as victim.
Is the priesthood we live according to the mold of Christ? or is still according to the mold of the old Testament or of some other type? Contrary to other types of priesthood, Christ’s priesthood is not about position, power or prestige.” His state was divine, yet he did not cling to his equality with God emptied himself to assume the condition of slave, and became as men; and being as all men are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross.” (Phil 2:6-8)
In the Old Testament, the priest was a man of great power and influence. The high priest in the time of the Maccabees exercised both religious and political authority. In Christ own time, the priests and religious leaders were key players in the social and political arena.
We have a similar picture in other religions. Through the caste system, the priestly class succeeded in entrenching themselves above the social ladder. Today we witness the repudiation of theocracy in some slamic states as sheer clerical dominance.
In his book,”Jesus of Nazareth,” Pope Benedict XVI tell us that the temptations of Jesus in the desert were actually three forms of but one single temptation – the temptation to power. At very instance, Jesus vehemently rejected the temptation, for he believed that his mission can be accomplished only by the greater power of love, his humble and self sacrificing love. The devil left Jesus in the desert only to return again. Since then he has kept on returning and tempting the church. We know from history that time and again. The church has succumbed to the temptation. And we also know that when the church was most powerful, she was most vulnerable.
In our country the temptation is present and real. There is a general perception that the church in the Philippines is powerful. As the days of the election are approaching, political candidates seek the blessing or anointing from the bishops and priests. While we easily condemn the brand of patronage in Philippine politics, we can also run our parish like a personal fieldom; and we can be despotic, too. It is not uncommon to hear out our own people referring to us more as hari, than pari. The letter to the Hebrews teaches us that our priesthood is not about power or prestige but humility and divine intimacy – in s word, holiness.
The other dimension of Christ’s priesthood is his victimhood. Our vocation calls us to conform ourselves to Christ the victim, “the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” Typified by the escape goat of the Old Testament, Jesus takes upon himself the sin of humanity. He is the redeemer who bought us back with his own blood, who ransomed us with his own life. To explain the mystery of our salvation to ordinary people, I would simply ask them to look at the crucifix and say to themselves, “they got the wrong man. He shouldn’t be there. He is innocent. the cross is for the sinner and the damned. I should be there. I am the one who sinned and merit condemnation. But Jesus, knowing I cannot bear the sentence, took my place.”
Our victimhood is call to compassion. We are called not only to be one of our people in their suffering, but also to be ready to take on their suffering. “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church.” (Col 1:24) it is said that the cure of Ars would give light penances to his penitents while he would take on himself the heavier burden of atoning for their sins.
Like Jesus we are called to be ready to redeem our people that they may live. We may have not the opportunity to literally offer ourselves as ransom for them, like St. Raymond Nonnatus and Mercedarians in the days of the crusade. But each day offers countless occasions to suffer for our people. To attend to their pastoral needs often requires of us to forget ourselves and to die to our comfort and convenience. As one of our old missionaries used to say, “much to suffer, much to offer; little to suffer, little to offer; nothing to suffer, nothing to offer.”
Indeed, the call to be a priest-victim is daunting! It is already difficult to pay the wages for our own sins, how much more to take on those of our people! How can we have our courage to live such a vocation?
I remember the days following my appointment as bishop of Kabankalan. Totally disoriented, I decided to take an Ignatian retreat at the Jesuit retreat house in Banawa, Cebu, if only to regains my bearings. One of the meditations my director gave me was on the good shepherd. When I came to the verse where Jesus said, “I lay down my life for my sheep,” I was deeply disturbed. I wrestled and agonized with the words. Deep in my heart I knew I could not own them. I have been called to shepherd God’s flock in Kabankalan, and like the Good Shepherd I too should be ready and willing to lay down my life for my sheep. But in all sincerity I knew I was not ready nor willing to do so. It was my saddest realization. I have always bee afraid of pain, even more so, of death. Hence, I could not honestly tell the Lord, “I lay down my life for my sheep.”
Since it was a Friday, I made the Way of the Cross at the park behind the retreat house that afternoon. As I walked from one station to another and retraced the steps of Jesus to Calvary, it slowly dawned on me that Jesus went through every pain and suffering for me, to save me. Then I began to realize how much I am loved. I have never felt so much loved, so infinitely loved. By the time I reached the twelfth station, I could hardly see the crucified Lord; my eyes were welling with tears. I told Jesus hanging on the Cross, “Lord, now I’m ready to die for you.” After a few seconds, I seemed to hear from the depths of my heart the Lord answering, “No, don’t die for me. Live for my people.
“Do you love me? Feed my lambs, feed my sheep,” we shall have the generosity and the joy of feeding the Lord’s flock, even with our own body and blood as He did, if we love him. But we can only love to the point of giving up our life if we personally experience Christ’s own victimal love for us. This was the clear realization I had on the hills of Banawa that Friday afternoon. “This is love: not that we love God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”(1Jn 4:10)
I always believe that for us humans love can only be response. I can love only if I have experienced being loved. And my capacity to love is proportional to the intensity of the experience..
Dear brother priests, allow me to end with a fraternal invitation. “Remain in my love,” (Jn15:9) the Lord tells us. Let us heed his call and remain in his love by keeping ever afresh in our heart and mind his self giving love. This is made concretely possible through the holy hour. It is an hour we set aside each day to keep alive in our awareness the Lord’s personal and unique love for us.. It is nothing else than entering into his presence and basking in his love. As our good preacher told us on the first day of our retreat, what happens on the Eucharistic adoration is the meeting of two glances, ours and the Lord’s. What is important is that we allow the glance of the Lord to penetrate us, that look of love which is far more tender and intense than our own.
Love is basically a relationship. The one necessary investment for any relationship to develop is time. To be tamed, the fox asked the little prince to meet him each day at a definite place and a specific hour. In the end, it was the heart of the little prince that was tamed, and from that experience, he learned the great secret that only in being ready to waste time with the beloved can we grow in relationship.
We are priest for the Eucharist. “Do this in memory of me.”(1Cor 11:24). But we are also the victim in the Eucharist we offer. To celebrate the rite of the Eucharist is the easy part of our priesthood. All twelve apostles, except one, were present in the first Eucharist at the Lord Supper. to live the Eucharist is the more difficult part. All twelve apostles, except one, were absent at the offering of the Supreme Sacrifice on the Cross. We are called not only to perform the rite of the Eucharist but also to fulfill it in our own life. How did the Lord pass from celebrating the Eucharist at the upper room to accomplishing it on Calvary? The gospel tells us that after supper Jesus spent the night in prayer before submitting himself into the hands of his captors. In that hour of prayer he clearly saw the full implication of the Passover meal he had partaken. The bread that he broke with his disciples was to be realized in the breaking of his own body. He shuddered in fear at the prospect to the point of sweating blood. He pleaded and bargained with his father. In the end, he surrendered completely to the will of him whose love was the only certainty that served as light in his darkest hour.
Christ’s definitive act of oblation was made in that hour of prayer. The journey that led him to sacrifice on Calvary was merely the unfolding of the total surrender he had made in the garden of Gethsemane.
Finally, it is important for us to note that the holy hour is the one personal request Jesus makes to those whom he considers his closest friends. “Wait here and stay awake with me…” (Mt26:38) Sadly, his first invitation was not heeded. “So you had not the strength to stay awake with me for an hour?’ (Mt 26:40) May we not disappoint the Lord as he offers to us the same invitation and privilege.
Our mass today is offered in honor of Mary, the first and perfect disciple. “Do whatever He tells you,” is her message to us, priest gathered in this congress. Let us ask her to teach us the ways of her Son so that the greater miracle may be realized in us, a miracle greater than the transformation of water into wine – our own transformation and configuration to Christ, the High Priest-Victim.
O Mary, Mother of Priest, pray for us. Amen
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