Chapter 4
The Homily
“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung round his neck and he were thrown into the sea. And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than with two feet to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it off; it is better for you to enter the Kingdom of God
“Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ,” responded the mammoth church goers collectively after Driarco kissed the Oxford Annotated Bible Revised Standard Version reading the gospel of St. Mark Chapter 9:42-50. Dropping it back gently on the rostrum, he cleared his throat uttering in silence of his heart ‘Lord give me Thine voice to speak Thine ear to listen and Thine mind to grasp your mystery’. Bracing himself to an exciting and didactic homily he probed:
“What’s your take on the gospel just read?”
Fr. Driarco asked setting the tone of his homily his right fingers bashing
repeatedly the rostrum like playing piano. The silence was deafening the church
goers this time caught on the receivers’
end waiting words of wisdom from the homilist to live by.
“Astounded gripped by terror catching you
in fear and trembling! Not gospel at all. Where’s the good news there anyway if
we’re as good as living dead worms feasting while being roasted by unquenchable
fire there in hell,” if I may ventured saying breaking their deafening silence.
“Most likely, disoriented too realizing the
horrifying graphics St. Mark in his gospel is showing to us.”
“How is that again– you thrown into the sea
with great millstone in your neck. . . hands and foot cut off, eyes plucked out from
their sockets, worm feasting dead bodies before thrown into the hell roasted by unquenchable fire!”
he narrated back to drive home his message.
“Atrocious. Better live than dead,” you
might say.
“And you must be, of course. But hold on.
That as far as our little general understanding we have about death is
concerned,” he said raising his left hand.
“Truth of the matter to tell like my dear
father now in casket whom we are paying our last respect, we too would follow
him dead anyway when our time comes. It’s just a matter of time. Any of us in a
hurry here? Not for now maybe your plea and rightly so. Maybe because of your own
unfinished business you still have to accomplish whatever that means.”
“But what if Grim Reaper would make you
part of his harvest right here, right now?” he said his voice gradually becoming resonant.
“Again no problem, well taken.”
“Rightly so because we are all God’s
children that we long to be with Him living in perfect bliss and contentment
forever. Why not?”
“Temporal or physical death. Yes, why not.
And in fact we don’t have any business living in this world if we are afraid to
die. It’s because just like the military,
death their bridesmaid, we would also pass away. We are all travelers in this
world. The bottom line is time,” he paused for the moment allowing his message sink deeper into the consciousness of listeners.
“Yes sure, it’s just the question of time.
Fine coming naturally and bad when out of the blue shrouded yet in mystery!” he
emphasized.
“Spiritual death – that’s a no-no to us
professing Christian. St. Paul says it all: death where is your sting and death
where is your victory? That’s precisely how our early apostles thought of
death. Ergo, my dear faithful sojourners beware that which may kill
compromising your soul. Never mind our mortal body. It is heavy baggage pulling
us back. Let it stay degenerate as fertilizers of mother earth from whose bosom
we were taken. Christ already died for
us and raise us up when He resurrected. And what is this far dangerous second
death? St. John
“Now the crucial question is – are you
listed in the book of life?” Another silence.
“Okay let’s open different pages of our
life back right now and ask: What’s up and where are you now. Is your name listed in the book
of life? Hello there?” he re-echoed again wanting to have his message
ringing a bell capturing the interest of
his listeners.
“You personally can answer that but of
course with the imprimatur of God because He’s all-knowing. If not then . . .
.”
“Don’t fret, you still have time. Look yourself
in the mirror and know who you really are.
But that is subjective. So scrape off the silver lining at the back of that
mirror and let people saw you through who really you are. If you’re not what
they think you are. Who you think you are then? It’s time for reality check as
God through St. Mark might have already reserve a place for you to that lake of fire. . . !”
“But sorry we are not that old to die Father,
you might bargain,” he said slowly emphasizing each words.
“Yes of course. But please be informed that
death like a thief in the night strike when we least expect his visit. No
problem dying our natural death. What a comforting development dying naturally.
But not in a blue? Right” he begged the question repeating what has been
delivered earlier never mind as long the people got the point.
Holding on catching his breath, he
proceeded.
”The reverse really holds true. No way when
death comes out of the blue. One that is suspect shrouded in mystery yet! One given
to you by circumstance snuffing out that lights out from you through force whatever beyond human
comprehension,” he said carried by the effect of his discovery but holding back
to keep its confidentiality from the mourning public.
“Reveal too soon and crusade for peace
would also be dead,” his subconscious took him back.
“Too early pricking their conscience yet,”
he cautioned.
“To
succeed one thing is only needed – that is, allowing whatever action you have concocted
stay only in your own mind. No one can bug that conspiracy in there, the result will be even
carried all the way to your grave,” the reflection recovering his consciousness
and focusing back where he earlier left off.
“I’m sorry, it seems I’ve gone too far my
take on the second implication,” he rectified himself avoiding any suspicion.
“Now I wonder if you have your own epithet,
words of wisdom your life is identified with you might later embossed in your tombstone, ”
he uttered switching back to non combative stance.
“I think some of you do have and nice to
know if it reflects all there is bout you.”
“But as Christian and travelling in this
one journey called life, I think we could relate to this epithet in gravestone
in Indiana Cemetery , America
“Stop
stranger when you pass me by. As you are now so once was I. As I am now so you
will be. So prepare to die and follow me.”
The placard in five languages in a crypt of
the three skeletons furth
“But who cares when we would all experience
that crossover in our lives anyway.”
“Where we go therefore is what counts. How
a jogger edited that epithet is obviously the answer and in order here.”
“To
follow you I’ll never be content until I know which way you went!” the
homilist revealed.
“Hello
there! Again what’s your take on the
epithet just read. Normal and unperturbed, you’ll probably say. No question
about this as we’re all passing mortal. Just hanging on,” you might add.
“We are practicing Christian, I hope so.
Death therefore is welcome development to each one of us. That what truly
separates us from the rest. We all know of course that only one person was
given that license conquering and living again after death, Christ our Master
no less,” the homilist emphasized his
index finger pointing upward.
“Buddhist
on the other hand goes beyond the concept death what with soul travelling up
there in Upper Chamber. They believe
that an old self merely takes a new form of body through reincarnation. Cows
and even earthworm in the case of Dalai Lama’s preaching could be their
ancestors; hence, sacred. “
“Science of many decades too stirred and
fanned controversy when a laboratory in US opened for business guaranteeing at
least another century of immortality for human body. But the catch is, it’s only your head that
could have semblance of life as it is planted to an entirely different new
younger body. Michael Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor, were among the early birds
clients. But science playing God? No way.
In movie yes but not in real life.
Wandering soul guarding its frozen head science caused us to believe century after is sick joke
bordering on stupidity.
“This free will proves again to be the most
powerful gift God gives us. It’s either you live a Christian life keeping all
the way the faith practicing it for good until the race is won or you may opt
living as you wish enjoying life to the fullest as read in this dictum among
materialists: “Life is but once. Enjoy it while it lasts!”
“That
I think depends on where you stand and
what institution you’re representing because if you do you are entirely missing
the mark. The truth of the matter is life is a continuum. We have to die to
live again to earn the promise of
eternal life God gives us. You’re right, happiness is right here. But you’re
dead wrong because that happiness is temporal, passing contentment which doesn’t
last. True happiness is up there, one that is forever outlasting all bliss you get
and enjoying here.”
“Songs too among romantics lusting for life
provide exciting nuances of death. “Dust
in the wind. Everything is dust in the wind. Same old song, nothing last
forever but earth, sky and endless sea.
All we do tumble to the ground though we refuse to see. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in
wind. All we are is dust in the wind,” well said by this song. “There’s also an
old Elton John’s “Daniel” leaving that night on a plane heading towards Spain waving
him goodbye but through grief actually mere cloud in the sky’ or of Acosta’s
“Don’t Fade Away” telling story of a father who just passed away considered a
friend so dear. “Oh My Papa” everybody’s all-time favorite. How would you not miss him when you were left
without a trace back then when you’re barely gullible two years old boy. Victim of cold-blooded murder when his close
friend yet pumped him nine bullets felling his body. No question asked until
today save for that opportunity when time comes seeing and meeting him face to
face or soul to soul to what could be the grandest reunion of all time up
there.”
“Nothing in this world is really permanent,
nothing except death and taxes And of
course for the uninitiated and those who have not yet been party
to this kind of experience – family still intact - a little bit reserved and restless. It’s both
scary and ugly when we relate it to different images we witnessed, seen and heard.
Who would not feel sick. The sight alone of
casket and different faces inside send shiver down our spine. Add the
incense emitting perfumed vapor, burning candles, offensive odor of thawed
flowers and all that provide not only an eerie environment but also an
extremely appalling and sometimes
griping feeling of deep fear and trembling.
My nine years stay in the Seminary bringing me to as far as Taipei to Kaohsiung in Taiwan
“So any takers? Resounding ‘No!’ and ‘Not for now’ is
definitely your categorical reply.
Naturally so as you are probably still held captive by the fear of
death. Denial, argued by eschatologist is actually just one stage of psychology
of death. Bargaining and later, acceptance follow. In both cases, we’re given time to think,
rethink and prepare. Those who wait for the11th hour dies at 10:30, familiar
sticker reminds. Life has no spare, live
it with prayer, advises another dictum. Ergo, death is not only real, it is
also didactic imbuing us greater sense of understanding the immediacy of time,
giving us benefits of doubts on how to manage and use time. When it would
finally an opportunity to go, would secure us from the anxiety accompanying the
realization of impending death.
Calvinists before Industrial Revolution just exactly did that. Associating acquisitiveness as requirement in
entering heaven, members pooled together their resources which soon led to
Capitalism. Martin Weber had graphic account on that phenomenon in his historic
“Protestant Ethics and the Rise of Capitalism.”
“Actually,
we can’t just philosophize death theologians would say. Why?
Life is a continuum as indicated. We are all experiencing death
everyday as little part of our life is
taken from us. We get sick, grow old and soon would perish. That time when we
cease to breath is simply a cessation of breath, that life goes on with death as special
growth taking place. Unless the grain of wheat shall fall on the ground and
dies, it shall remain a single wheat and not give life,” the wisdom of a Jesuit
song ‘Behold The Wood of the Cross’ reminds
us.
“Well said and explainable. And similarly
for those whose death were forcibly handed
unto them – accidents, calamity and all that – simply amazing you might
exclaimed. It might be scary alright. But that’s all in life.”
“But it is also beautiful once it happens in its natural way
not that one taken away
unceremoniously and mercilessly out of the blue snuffing away dear life given
by God the likes of cold blooded murder, massacre, terrorism and inhuman barbaric acts defying
description.”
“Perceptions of death undoubtedly vary.
Among Atheists and skeptics, death is nothing other than immaterial and
irrelevant. The more and the longer you
qualify its reality, the faster you explain the issue away. More than the doubting Thomas, they don’t
give damn come what may. Worst, terrorists’ neurotic claim as far as they are
concerned are infallibly correct, they
become martyr and enter nirvana and have eternal bliss later is suspect and
stranger than fiction.”
“Romanticists and Apologetics have so far
the most sublime explanation they have on death. Poets, musicians, storyteller,
theologians and eschatologists have all exploited to the tilt the true nature
of death beyond its usual medical occurrence.
The most common is its inevitability.”
“Bible tells us, it strikes like a thief in
the night without any warning yet coming when you least expect it. Surprise and very swift attack, you might
say.”
And as written “In the sweat of your face
you shall eat bread till you return to the ground for out of it you were taken;
you are dust and to dust you shall return,” explains further by an Oxford
Annotated Bible in Gen. 3:19 showing man‘s struggle after The Fall to eke out
his living from the same soil he was taken to which he will also return.
“That last bated breath in fact a dying reserves
holding on as his last he could muster before he gives in the old testament sense is the same breath
Yahweh made unto us coming alive from that dust in which the dying is returning
back. What a respect returning back the compliment to God who breath unto us
life.”
“Thus far, death was already there from the
dawn of creation. Like Yin-Yang theory,
death is inseparable from life. Nothing
in this world is sure than death and taxes, goes again from an earlier
reminder. Encarta in its entry about the
nature, debate and psychology of death is even more emphatic providing some
classic examples.. There’s the ”Death of
a Merchant” and the story of Achilles’ tragic end from an arrow Paris unleashed
mortally wounded his heel resulting his
death.”
“As inevitable, it is also great leveler
striking all excluding none regardless of race, color, creed and
persuasion. It’s one institution if I
may; whose relevance far outweighs all the rest there is including human life
itself. The fact remains that life is
only best appreciated when related to death. Celebration of life in the real
sense of the word is what actually death is.
Like a door, it closes upon its maturity but
opening the other as fulfillment of entirely new life. Living, dying and living again – these are
life’s inseparable whole gamut of human existence.”
“Explainable. The crucial question is: Quo Vadis
my soul? Would it end in Upper super de lux chamber where there is perfect
bliss and happiness living alongside all other blessed equally sharing all
there is in life with contentment. Or will it end in the Lower Orchestra where
Satan and his fallen angels would have their day full welcoming you to their
fold with open heart – your most coveted prize for having successfully
separated from God. If not, then don’t fret yet. There is still balcony available for as long as you first suffer until
purified. Check out then where you stand
now. Have you ever keep the faith and
hold on to your covenant when you say proudly ’I Do’ to your wife back then? Are you not suffering identity and messiah
complex?”
“Hearing this good news might by your last
otherwise Welcome aboard! No matter how
great your sins are practically peanuts compare to the love of God. Come follow Him, the Bible reminds us. Or as far
as you can make it, make yourself living gospel yourself.”
. . . . . . . . . .
Undoubtedly, it was such a beautiful
treatise on the subject, reason that probably many are bracing for more. That
as Driarco observed with all the mourners have their eyes focused on him.
“By
now, it should be clear in us that death is actually a celebration of life,” he
cleared pricking the conscience of the suspects and their accomplices who might be around showing their sympathy.
“So did everybody get the message of St.
Mark’s right?”he asked postulating anew
his application and clincher of the gospel.
If you do, I believe you are left
dumbfounded stunned wondering what in the world our good friend St. Mark
implies with his didactic message for today specifically, the warnings of
hell,” Fr. Driarco intoned in a
vibrant baritone voice anew staring in a
spur of a moment to the Mayor and his men occupying front pew.
“If your hearing is still functioning John
Mark, Peter’s disciple according to tradition, explains in a rather hurting
description the suffering one gets in hell, - worms feasting on our dead bodies
giving us great favor making our day through Jesus’ extended commandment and
simile. It’s indeed hurting alright. Even just by hearing it is already biting
and incisive. Think of being roasted alive in hell! Common, who do you think
You are? Seems You are not the God I used to know. The God of love who has been
there providing the necessary lift for me, you might ask. Am I disoriented?”
he’s provocative probing on the good news just read.
“But first thing first. Let’s put his message in its proper perspective,” the
young priest cleared.
“The annotations below the book says it all
the ‘little ones’ referring to His followers and ‘have salt in yourselves and
be at peace with one another’ in the end implies peaceful maintenance of your
own distinct character and service. Now guess and I’ll beat if you get what he
means ‘whoever’,” he emphasized pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts.
“That’s crucial. It’s you and me everybody
else in this church in this municipality specially those causing His little
ones to sin. Reflect, thank God and St. Mark. He might be addressing this
message to you,” Fr. Driarco emphasized pointing his fingers gradually down lowering the tone of his voice staring
eye to eye some to his parishioners pausing longer on the Mayor’s.
“My
golly this priest might be thinking that he could soften my heart with his
sermon,” the Mayor might have uttered thinking for the first time of staging a
walkout from the church. But it seems, he felt helpless as he was in a fix. No
other alternative but just to sit in there enjoying pretending listening.
“Admit it. We’re all His followers each one
would rightly claim. Good grief. As already articulated, I would rather advise
yourself to check who you are in the
mirror. You’re right, you’re you as far as the reflection of the mirror is
concerned. You might even claim you’re above yourself probably a king, a
demigod because you’ve got His image and likeness and goodness in you. But
wait. Let’s have reality check here. Try scrapping off the silver lining behind
the mirror and allow the people, ‘the little ones’, see us through. If they see
you what you were earlier before, good; but if they see you completely a
reverse of your own reflection earlier then bingo! It’s the time to refute St.
Mark’s gospel you being thrown into the depth of the sea with great millstone
yet hanging by your neck, hands and foot cut off and worst, an eyeball plucked
out from their sockets. It’s better, he said to enter into life or His Kingdom,
if you wish, incomplete without such vital organs than be whole and only salted
by unquenchable fire in hell. Again, St. Mark is addressing his message to
us. He was by the way one of the gospel
writer who wrote what he witnessed Jesus from his own perspective. In fact, St.
Matthew and Luke along with collection of Jesus and several other special
sources based their Gospels from St. Mark. But you might not still be satisfied
asking. Where’s the good tidings there in Mark’s shared by St. Paul in his
twenty one letters; acts of the apostles, records of Church’s history written
roughly thirty years or so after the death and resurrection of Jesus and last;
God’s disclosure of his will for the future in the book of Revelation in a
nutshell forming the entire New testament. Yes. You’re absolutely right. St.
Mark happens to be dishing out halfway his message. The other dimension is the
simile read in the end.”
‘Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace
with one another. In layman’s term, be a peacemaker. How could you be one? By
being a crusader of peace yourself. In fact, we don’t have to be religious to
do the job. Just be yourself and let peace start within. We need not to be like
Scribes and Pharisees bragging around showing their belief instead living and practicing
it ourselves or we suffer identify crisis. Let us not use religion in other
words as crutch to use when times comes but by becoming living gospel
ourselves.”
“This time I hope we didn’t get our good
friend St. Mark wrong. Remember, no matter how great your sins are could be
mere peanuts compare to the greatness of God’s love. True, the hell is there
too frightening but the message of love St. Mark preaches and the rest of His
disciples later far outweigh its ugly heads. We should not allow closing our
guards then or complacency and devil
might overwhelm us,” he continues.
“That we should remember. I’m sure one or
two among you is advised by St. Mark. Acknowledge it, he is doing great favor
and as he said don’t allow the little ones to sin, the innocent people you exploited as an accomplices in
maintaining whatever business you’ve got as power broker in this world. Come to
think of it. You’ve still got the choice - heaven or hell. You’re opting the
first I’m sure. But show by being a peacemaker and crusader in this
municipality,” Fr. Driarco ended wondering whether the silence of the people
indicated that he received a passing mark for his homily.
“The mayor’s sensitivity should be pricked.
He might not complain today but time would come when he would run out of gas
and realizes that it’s payback time,” he quipped as he slightly glanced passing
the Mayor and his wife Nimfa on his side on the front pew.
The Mayor’s breathing become regular anew
after Fr. Driarco completed his message and left the rostrum vowing not to make
any slightest mistake occupying the
front pew again next time.
. . . . . . . . . .
“The poor priest’s sermon is making me
sick,” confided to Baldo, his sidekick
by his side.
“What unassuming good father he is,” he
said griping.
“How could I afford surrendering my
promising political career to them. That’s political suicide!” he grumbled whispering
Bobo’s ear.
“The hell of this priest. He’ll have his
day full few days from now,” Bobo heard
the Mayor impending threat. This he heard said while holy communion was in progress.
“The body of our Lord Jesus Christ” said
Fr. Driarco to communicants who received the sacred host one after the other.
When the Mayor’s turn came, Driarco immediately abandoned his previous plan of
depriving the Mayor of giving sacred host extending instead one to his palm as
if saying ‘you don’t deserve eating His body.’ You’re making hell out of
innocent people of this municipality. Forgive them for they don’t know what
they’re doing, the echo however at the
back of his mind seems to be reminding him. But they did know, his
subconscious complains creating two polarized idea pricking constantly his
brain. Lord make me a channel of your peace where there is hatred, let me sow
love; where there is injury, pardon Lord where there is doubt trust in you…,”
he whispered before sending away the mass goers with his final blessing.
“One day, peace will be yours Sta. Rita,”
he challenged himself finding solace
from his awakening the incident gave.
. . . . . . . . . .
“Just as how holy your name implies, peace
would eventually be yours Sta. Rita. When? Time can tell,” reminded Driarco as he rise up from
his usual visit of Tabernacle after the celebration of Holy
Eucharist.
The rest of Sundays were spent briefing newly
installed parish lay ministers of their
services securing that all the chapel in faraway villages are reached and
served. Vespers evening normally close
the activity of the day. Dropping to his bed after saying a prayer, he took his
needed rest. Unlike however the previous nights, he felt light that evening probably
having unloaded his thoughts and emotions receiving corresponding enlightenment
from his initiative and inquisitiveness.
Soon, he snored his thoughts carrying him back
away in time down the memory lane surprisingly priesthood striking as most
likely vocation to be pursued not knowing that his batch was top heavy of
vocations sending many of his classmates taking Theology in other Colleges and
Congregation. Amazing indeed that God works in many mysterious ways. But among
his batch mates, many receiving calling from the Lord’s vineyard.
. . . . . . . . . . .
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