(The following is my column in this week's issue of the CBCP Monitor) News
coverage these days may not be as impartial and respectable as I would want it
to be, but sometimes it is valuable for its power to send me down to my
knees. Absorbing the news from all
media lengthens my to-pray-for list.
For instance, I’ve recently added Senator Bong and Senator Jinggoy to
that list. For all the Masses
offered and prayers said on their behalf, on top of the loyalty of their
followers, and their occasional expressions of faith in God, they are still
finding it extremely difficult to accept their lot in this politicking world—to
put up with suffocating heat in their quarters that are also rat-and-roach
infested. Of course, they are
merely accused, so why subject them to such punishment? Correct. But, as believers in God that they claim to be, can they not
rely on their faith to see their situation from a loftier point of view?
Guilty or
innocent they have much to be grateful for: IF indeed they are plunderers, they
deserve even worse—why should they be given anything the other prisoners are
being deprived of? They should be
thankful that life is now offering them a chance to be actually in solidarity
with the poorest of the poor—no aircon, no TV, no cell phone, no gadgets, et
al. They should be thankful they
have food at all, sanitary toilets, and living quarters big enough for five
poor families. Perhaps after this
experience they would feel more for the poor they have deprived of their
rightful conveniences. But IF they
are innocent of the charges leveled against them, then, won’t even the memory
of all the communion hosts they have taken stir in them an ineffable sense of
gratitude for the undeserved persecution and deprivation because it means they
are being granted the privilege to participate in our Lord Jesus’
suffering. Wasn’t Jesus innocent
when He was sent to die on the cross?
The
communion queues at our churches are unbelievably long. I wonder how this helps us as a nation
to transcend our mediocrity. Our
thoughts are shallow, our ambitions selfish, our level of contentment
incredibly cheap and low; and we cannot seem to be that concerned about affairs
outside of our puny fences. China
and the United States are deploying submarines in our waters and yet we care
more about what happens to the teleserye
characters. A considerable
percentage of our rural
areas have no clean drinking water and adequate
electricity and yet our technocrats are aiming to send our own satellite in
outer space. We are supposedly
looked up to as a faithful Catholic Christian nation in this part of the world
and yet… (finish the sentence).
At the risk
of sounding simplistic, I dare say that there is something amiss about the way
we regard the Body and Blood of Christ that we ingest at least weekly.
I have a confession to make. As a writer and occasional speaker I
find this “thing” about “eating my flesh and drinking my blood” as one of the
hardest truths to convey to people. When it comes to this beautiful and profound truth of the
Body and Blood of Christ, people hunger in silence for explanations. Many of
those I meet at retreats or seminars admit that while they may be taking
communion regularly, and do believe that they are taking no less than the Body
and Blood of Christ itself in the form of a wafer, they still want to put a
handle to their beliefs, to have something solid to say, especially as
non-believers chide them about Jesus making of them cannibals in a sense.
A question
on an article of faith is not something that can be answered like 2 + 2 = 4,
but being virtually puzzled, they wish for answers that the mind can
endorse. They are not satisfied
being reminded of the eminent Thomas Aquinas’ words—“For those
with faith, no explanation is necessary. For those without, no explanation is
possible”—particularly now when young people want absolute certainty and are
battered from all sides by conflicting doctrines, individualism, and godless
ideologies.
People commonly associate faith with
miracles such as instant healing or desperate prayers granted, hardly aware
that the most effective faith is trusting God so much each day that it makes us
welcome our every problem as His way of showing us how He operates in our life.
Faith comes when an external
fact pierces our heart of hearts and seizes us there; as the work of the Spirit
it cannot be rushed, and so we pray to be patient toward the holy puzzles
dwelling in our being, while we try to quietly love our doubts and questions
themselves.
If we only believed what faith in the Body
and Blood of Christ can do in us and in our lives—we would crave that “little
white host” each day, before we are consumed by anxieties over earning a living
or living in style. The Eucharist
is not just us receiving His Body and Blood—it is also Him offering Himself to
us. If those half-hearted about
the truth of Christ’s Body and Blood would just
stay long enough in the silence
of their hunger, they will find the answers they are seeking.
I’m not sure I’m making sense—or if my
favorite Theology professor Fr. Jesus Merino would turn in his grave over my
volubility—but it’s my truth I tell, and I tell it not to convince nonbelievers
but to affirm those who do know what Christ’s Body and Blood is. And that’s the truth.



