Today is the Sunday of the 14th of the Ordinary Time of the Liturgical Calendar. The readings have been taken from prophet Zechariah, Psalm 145, an epistle from St. Paul to the Romans, and the Gospel from St. Matthew.
In the first reading, we find Zechariah prophesying the joyful return of the king to the city of David amidst sounds of celebration. In the reading, the prophet is looking to the future of an Israel still constructing itself from the pieces of having been conquered by Babylon. We have to note that Zechariah is one of the two prophets of this period who urged the building of the Second Temple in the time of Ezra. It is in this context that the prophet referred a picture of rejoicing as he envisioned the coming of the messianic kingdom. The building of the temple for the prophet is the coming of the promised One, where the House of Yahweh is the living presence of His Person. That the culmination of the building of Israel is the erection of the temple on Zion. It is here that it is not by chance that the Gospel shows us Jesus the gentle one that our rejoicing rests. Just as the temple on the Mount of Zion symbolizes the stability of the promise of Yahweh and the comfort of the whole People of God, it is also by Jesus that we find the fulfillment of the one that we seek and to rest in thee of His meekness and gentleness.
The 147th Psalm tells of the psalmist effusively extoling his praise to the Almighty One. It continues along the vein prepared by Zechariah in the first reading when Israel rejoices in the coming of Her King. In this song, it extols not only a King but God and Lord at the same time. Who then is this Lord and God, to whom praises have been given in abundance? Who then is this Lord gracious and merciful and slow to anger and of great kindness? In Deuteronomy, we find these words spoken by the lips of Yahweh, the sovereign God of Israel, whose commands, precepts, and laws are conditions imposed upon the community of Israel to follow before entering into the promised land. Here, the clear majesty of the arrival of the King within the midst of Israel is depicted in His transcendence and is posed in connection with the humility of Christ. It is that the benevolent character of the God of Israel in the Old Testament has found its truest expressions and passes without doubt to the person of Christ. This could only be intelligible only in the Gospel, where the Second Person of the Trinity communed with the created order.
The Apostle to the Gentiles, whose jubilee has been recently opened by Pope Benedict XVI to mark the 2000th year of his birth, has taught the early Christians in Rome the duality of a life rooted in the Spirit of Christ and the reality of the equal demands of the flesh. The apostle has reminded the faithful of Rome that they belonged to the same Spirit of God, the Spirit who indwelled the Lord Jesus and raised Him up. He is quick to point out that belonging to this Spirit is to forsake the works of the flesh, that we have to show the fruits of the Spirit in us. Thereby, we are saved.
The Gospel speaks of the equality between the Father and the Son in their essence. In this way, the Father is revealed in the Son as He was seen going about his Father's business at the midst of Israel. This is the reason that the invitation towards the gentleness of Christ is our journey towards the gentleness of the Father because He showed the true nature of God, though in the nature of man. This is the gentleness that Matthew the tax-collector sought in following Him, Him whom they had pierced on the Cross. From being under the control of the fleshly desire of enriching oneself of the material things to a life following Jesus devoid of any oppressive snares of the world. To that of a life immersed in the kindness and mercy of God.
In the Clerus, which is the reference given by the Congregation of the Clergy, the homily for this specific reading of cycle A says that the texts from the Holy Scripture reveal the paradoxes of Christianity: the paradox of the Messiah, the paradox of love, and the paradox of grace. Beginning with with the prophecy of Zephaniah, the projected idea of Lord and God is his otherness and royalty, that it draws awe. However, "He is a Messiah-king, but who reigns – what a mystery! – from the throne of the cross in the midst of the most atrocious suffering". In the Gospel, "the paradox is that of the Lord and Master who, in his simplicity and humility of heart, places the burden and the yoke on his shoulders, so that we, his servants oppressed by the weight, might find the burden lighter and we, his disciples worn out by laws and precepts, might find the yoke easier". From these two paradoxes usher us into the paradox of Grace, which demands a conversion of hearts in men and women of every age: "In Christian life, the terms "to die – to live" are correlative, that is, one must die to live. It is by the death of the deeds of the flesh that the new man is raised, who lives by the Spirit. This is death in the ascetic sense, and, if God wills, also in the real sense to the point of martyrdom, so that Christ may live in us in a way that is not of this world. If this is truly imprinted on him, a Christian is not of this world, but he is in the world as leaven and as light".
It is here that the Neo-Catechumenate grounds its roots to follow in this complex post-modern and post-Christian age, in an age not totally foreign to the realities in the time of Paul of Tarsus. We are besieged of different pagan ideas that tend to mix with Christian faith, ending up relativizing our beliefs. As Pope Benedict XVI said in his homily prior to his election as the Successor St. Peter: "we are living in the dictatorship of relativism" - a relativism that does not give space for religion in the public square, that views Christian beliefs with suspect eyes and scorn. The communities of Neo-Catechumenal Way in our adult catechesis are important in the way we interpret and witness the gentleness and meekness of the Lord into the world that gives us no voice. We hold in us the Spe Salvi, the saving hope, and we cannot keep it to ourselves for our own salvation. We have to sow the mercy and kindness that Jesus had shown us personally to the outside world in need of a Savior. We hold in us the conviction of the paradoxes of Christianity and offer this to the world for it is the will of Jesus in First Timothy that all men maybe saved and come to the knowledge of His love.
P.S.
Today is the Sunday of the 14th of the Ordinary Time of the Liturgical Calendar. The readings have been taken from prophet Zechariah, Psalm 145, the epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, and the Gospel from St. Matthew.
The Day of the Lord invites us to reflect on the paradoxes of Christianity. Clerus, the official website for the Congregation of the Clergy, in its liturgical commentary for this Sunday mentioned three main paradoxes that we can learn on today's readings: The Paradox of the Messiah, the Paradox of Love, and the Paradox of Grace. We invite you brothers and sisters to listen to the Word and encounter the meaning of these paradoxes in our lives rooted in the charism of Neo-Catechumenal Way. These readings invite us closer to listening closely to these paradoxes that Christians should learn to hold in faith.
In the passage taken from the book of the Prophet Zechariah, the seer recounts a vision of the King of Peace coming to seize the city and the temple. He was one of the two prophets who was incessant in building the Second Temple of Jerusalem during the time of Ezra, which we know was razed to the ground when Babylon conquered the City. This was the temple of Zorobabel. This same prophet was the one who greatly encouraged the return of the exiles to Palestine, which seventeen years before, Cyrus the Great, a King of Persia, made possible.
The 145th song of the Psalmist has been described in the Clementine Vulgate as Lauda anima, which also corresponds to the first words of the Psalmody. Lauda anima in the Douay-Rheims version of the Bible says "Praise the Lord, O my soul". It is worth noticing that here the Lord has been described as "gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness."
St. Paul to the early Christians in the City of Rome in his epistle explains the duality of Christian reality: the life in the Spirit, who raised Jesus from the dead, and the flesh, which demands but brings death. In his commentary on this passage from Romans, St. John Crysostom explained that either a believer has to choose the one or the other: "Thus the soul and the flesh belong to things indifferent, since each may become either the one or the other. But the spirit belongs to things good, and at no time becometh any other thing. Again, the mind of the flesh, that is, ill-doing, belongs to things always bad." The Doctor of the Church taught that it is not the flesh itself which is the source of evil but the judgment, the power of our choice to choose our own ruin.
Matthew in the Gospel recounts Jesus' words first of his equality with the Father and the rest which all will find in Him in the second. It is saying that there is no rest but in Him because He is a God rich in mercy and kindness. St. Augustine of Hippo has an extensive commentary on this chapter in Matthew. He said that it is love which makes the difference how our burdens disappear in the Lord: "For love makes all, the hardest and most distressing things, altogether easy, and almost nothing." In our Christian faith, the word love is a Person, who has incarnated Himself to be with His beloved.
My dear brothers and sisters the Leitourgia invites us again to encounter this God of meekness and kindness as we live in this troubled and confusing times. The Lord does not wish us to hide from these realities but to give the world a common witness of Him who was crucified. Being in this community does not shelter us from the harsh living in the flesh, but we are constantly reminded to live in the hope that saves, the Spe Salvi of God. Let us then rise to meet the Lord at the table praying to send His abundant helps and grace.
Showing posts with label Liturgy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liturgy. Show all posts
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Triduum
The word evokes a trilogy, three days of commemoration of something that has been considered special in the subset of a population. This word comes to be associated with most of the cultural events: it can be a three-series boxing fight, it might be a three-part movie installments, and it can even be a three-course meal. Just anything of threes. The number three itself is odd, it is not paired. So, the upshot could mean conclusion of something began. It can be decisive in a sort of way. In the secular world, the number itself has great significance in card games, in some combination of drinks, or even in picture taking.
The holy scriptures is not immune to this sort of category. We had three persons appearing to Abraham one hot day, three ministries in Israel (priest, prophet, and king), three loaves, three disciples of Christ who seemed to be his favorites, the three crosses on the mount of Golgotha, the three magi with of course their three gifts, and so on. We could surmise that three represents balance and proportion, an equally complementary fact of realities that mirrors man's need to something that stabilizes and gives man an equilibrium. This equilibrium thing only mirrors in man what he is part of. When you look at the universe, it is suspended in a balancing of forces and energy.
The holy triduum that has been the unceasing feature of the Roman liturgy every year is a seamless, united events of the passion, death, and resurrection of the Lord. When it comes to mind, it speaks of solemnity, that gravity which comes to us from without and imposed upon us with usual urgency - an urgency that has its beginning in the past. The week of the pasch has been a usual staple for most Christians, that though it is celebrated each year, it has been part of the fabric of our seasons. It does not come as new and surprising for it is passively anticipated and accepted. Moreover, this kind of attitude has been fostered culturally and handed over from generations to generations; however, this may be trapped into the pitfall of constancy, that it would soon lose its meaning, where the origin of such event does not come as truly consequential to the ones who hold it in their community.
The Catholic Church as a community of believers has come to be viewed as imposing restrictions, the gird of oppression and ignorance. In this age, she is seen as a bringer of unhappiness and hampers ascent of being himself, of having the capacity of finding himself in himself. This summit of Christian liturgy focuses that decisive event that gives identity to the believers of the messiah of Israel. Hence, our eyes should deviate from the focus of ourselves but turn toward the one whom they have pierced, to the one who had been hanged on the cross for the sake of others. This does not appear as just as anything to Catholicism; it is the lifeblood of its own existing in the world grown hostile to the Gospel. It is but right that the perennial attitude should be that this is accepted as imposed upon to those who have Christ as their identity-giver. Though this becomes visible as something external and coercive, the commemoration invites, albeit constantly bid to enter into the mesh of its narrative, us to penetrate that mystery of our salvation.
It does not come as a surprise that after Vatican Council II, that though the council loosen some strictures of the practices that have been the usual tradition of Catholics, some have gone out of their way rationalizing in their subtle and measured ways how to go about celebrating cuaresma. In one of the discussions over at ANC, a show host asked her panelists how did they usually celebrate the passiontide, I was particularly drawn to a couple who were Catholics who answered in a tone reminiscent of how progressives thought the Church is. They talked so much of the signs of the times, and that in celebrating this special time of the liturgical year, it robs the essence of setting our eyes on the cause of this celebration. They said that it was usual for them to celebrate this with their family and, in the course, would have just any spontaneous call to prayer and reflection. They came close to saying that they had disowned Catholic tradition, though from their lips they said that tradition is good and noble. I came to a question of how such thing could happen, when we praise our tradition but not practice it. How could we say that such is we and we as such, when we relinquish our claims to it and left it to parch under the sun of trivialization and relativization?
There is this thing as holding the tension of opposites and contrarieties that exists within the folds of Catholicism. Yes, indeed, it is a common fact that in the Church there are given differences that lives within its boundaries. Yet, this differences do not undo and nixes the existence of the other one. These apparent dissimilarities develop and find its rightful place that give a logical and intelligibility to the whole picture of truth, which does not demand the non-existence of neither. The attitude is not of the aspersion of that great wealth of patrimony that becomes part of Catholic existence but to insert within the whole stream of our individual responses past and present to that same Gospel, eventually bringing out the full measure of our act of faith. It has been the constant character of the Church to give the widest latitude of our gifts that we can bring to the altar of the Lord. Though we confront the times we are facing in, but we must at all times be conscious of the things behind us without neglecting it definitely.
The narrative of our faith, which in some way is the Word itself, must find its place within the present reality to draw it from there and raise it to the One seated at the right hand of the father. The world amidst the darkness of the times should find redemption within. This only happens when within the majority is a minority of fervent populace that brings forth this gift that does not dwell at a still but always seeks others and returns to the one who sent it. The speech act of the Church is indiscriminate to whom it rests for it invites everyone to heed the Word. Therefore, she does not rest assured but always proclaims loudly to the world the saving grace of God, even to the point that it sounds hollow to whose ears grown dim by the snares and demands of the world. We do not shrink from the challenge of the world, but should we recede when God calls us to meet up His dare?
The Paschal Triduum is clearly manifested from the institution of the Holy Eucharist to the glory of Easter. It is evident in the way culturally, Filipinos have allocated this specific time to prayer and reflection. Businesses close and silence descends to all quarters. Sections of the city, which used to be the hub of shoppers, finds its rest even for a day. People's focus becomes religiously colored; congregations flock to the Church for the liturgical events. We have been accustomed to gatherings before the 14 Stations of the Cross, of the Pabasa of the Pasyon, of the processions, of the candles, of the water, and of the varied prayers of this season. In Catholic countries, we have foods suited for this time and practices of flagellating and crucifixion, which would draw numbers from all persuasions and walks of life. Some would keep things that would create sound, and others would keep from travelling in fear of meeting accidents. Some would go on a pilgrimage of out-of-the-way places, on the mountains, and places of worship.
The holy scriptures is not immune to this sort of category. We had three persons appearing to Abraham one hot day, three ministries in Israel (priest, prophet, and king), three loaves, three disciples of Christ who seemed to be his favorites, the three crosses on the mount of Golgotha, the three magi with of course their three gifts, and so on. We could surmise that three represents balance and proportion, an equally complementary fact of realities that mirrors man's need to something that stabilizes and gives man an equilibrium. This equilibrium thing only mirrors in man what he is part of. When you look at the universe, it is suspended in a balancing of forces and energy.
The holy triduum that has been the unceasing feature of the Roman liturgy every year is a seamless, united events of the passion, death, and resurrection of the Lord. When it comes to mind, it speaks of solemnity, that gravity which comes to us from without and imposed upon us with usual urgency - an urgency that has its beginning in the past. The week of the pasch has been a usual staple for most Christians, that though it is celebrated each year, it has been part of the fabric of our seasons. It does not come as new and surprising for it is passively anticipated and accepted. Moreover, this kind of attitude has been fostered culturally and handed over from generations to generations; however, this may be trapped into the pitfall of constancy, that it would soon lose its meaning, where the origin of such event does not come as truly consequential to the ones who hold it in their community.
The Catholic Church as a community of believers has come to be viewed as imposing restrictions, the gird of oppression and ignorance. In this age, she is seen as a bringer of unhappiness and hampers ascent of being himself, of having the capacity of finding himself in himself. This summit of Christian liturgy focuses that decisive event that gives identity to the believers of the messiah of Israel. Hence, our eyes should deviate from the focus of ourselves but turn toward the one whom they have pierced, to the one who had been hanged on the cross for the sake of others. This does not appear as just as anything to Catholicism; it is the lifeblood of its own existing in the world grown hostile to the Gospel. It is but right that the perennial attitude should be that this is accepted as imposed upon to those who have Christ as their identity-giver. Though this becomes visible as something external and coercive, the commemoration invites, albeit constantly bid to enter into the mesh of its narrative, us to penetrate that mystery of our salvation.
It does not come as a surprise that after Vatican Council II, that though the council loosen some strictures of the practices that have been the usual tradition of Catholics, some have gone out of their way rationalizing in their subtle and measured ways how to go about celebrating cuaresma. In one of the discussions over at ANC, a show host asked her panelists how did they usually celebrate the passiontide, I was particularly drawn to a couple who were Catholics who answered in a tone reminiscent of how progressives thought the Church is. They talked so much of the signs of the times, and that in celebrating this special time of the liturgical year, it robs the essence of setting our eyes on the cause of this celebration. They said that it was usual for them to celebrate this with their family and, in the course, would have just any spontaneous call to prayer and reflection. They came close to saying that they had disowned Catholic tradition, though from their lips they said that tradition is good and noble. I came to a question of how such thing could happen, when we praise our tradition but not practice it. How could we say that such is we and we as such, when we relinquish our claims to it and left it to parch under the sun of trivialization and relativization?
There is this thing as holding the tension of opposites and contrarieties that exists within the folds of Catholicism. Yes, indeed, it is a common fact that in the Church there are given differences that lives within its boundaries. Yet, this differences do not undo and nixes the existence of the other one. These apparent dissimilarities develop and find its rightful place that give a logical and intelligibility to the whole picture of truth, which does not demand the non-existence of neither. The attitude is not of the aspersion of that great wealth of patrimony that becomes part of Catholic existence but to insert within the whole stream of our individual responses past and present to that same Gospel, eventually bringing out the full measure of our act of faith. It has been the constant character of the Church to give the widest latitude of our gifts that we can bring to the altar of the Lord. Though we confront the times we are facing in, but we must at all times be conscious of the things behind us without neglecting it definitely.
The narrative of our faith, which in some way is the Word itself, must find its place within the present reality to draw it from there and raise it to the One seated at the right hand of the father. The world amidst the darkness of the times should find redemption within. This only happens when within the majority is a minority of fervent populace that brings forth this gift that does not dwell at a still but always seeks others and returns to the one who sent it. The speech act of the Church is indiscriminate to whom it rests for it invites everyone to heed the Word. Therefore, she does not rest assured but always proclaims loudly to the world the saving grace of God, even to the point that it sounds hollow to whose ears grown dim by the snares and demands of the world. We do not shrink from the challenge of the world, but should we recede when God calls us to meet up His dare?
The Paschal Triduum is clearly manifested from the institution of the Holy Eucharist to the glory of Easter. It is evident in the way culturally, Filipinos have allocated this specific time to prayer and reflection. Businesses close and silence descends to all quarters. Sections of the city, which used to be the hub of shoppers, finds its rest even for a day. People's focus becomes religiously colored; congregations flock to the Church for the liturgical events. We have been accustomed to gatherings before the 14 Stations of the Cross, of the Pabasa of the Pasyon, of the processions, of the candles, of the water, and of the varied prayers of this season. In Catholic countries, we have foods suited for this time and practices of flagellating and crucifixion, which would draw numbers from all persuasions and walks of life. Some would keep things that would create sound, and others would keep from travelling in fear of meeting accidents. Some would go on a pilgrimage of out-of-the-way places, on the mountains, and places of worship.
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Woman at the Well
The Sunday's gospel reading reminds us of a painting, where Jesus sat opposite the Samaritan woman, who was about to fetch water. One could see that there was an on-going conversation, a dramatic encounter locked on their faces. It was midday, the sun was scorching far above their heads but under the shadow of a tree, and Jesus would have been thirsty, when he got to the place. As part the background reflection, it is said that she has had five husbands; in a sense, it is sort of saying, she is muddled in the quamire of adultery. In this scene, it did not take the woman to introduce herself; Jesus himself had known her. It is quite remarkable that the Gospel writer knew what was beyond the obvious dynamics of the encounter: the woman in her particular sinful situation and the whole range of historical implication that this narrative has brought to and its effect it caused to the whole audience - the nation of Israel. The symbolic imagery becomes replete in the geographical environment, that it added to the force of the elements being used. The whole picture is rather hard and difficult both to Israel living in those days and to Christians two thousand years distant.
At a certain basic level, it appears Jesus a Jewish male communicates with female Samaritan. The unfamiliarity exists imposed by the demands of their culture and the difference brought by history itself, though the breach was opened with a question: "Give me a drink". Somehow, the approach was carried from the heavenly to the earthly; it is obviously incarnational naturally. The words that open a conversation did not arise from the woman's lips, but comes out from the mouth of the "one who is to come". The movement, as it were, descends to dwell not just to a fellow Jew but to a woman, consigned as despised by the faith of Israel.
The opening of an encounter came as a surprise to the woman. Here, she perfectly knows the great divide that exists between them, and she did not hesitate to acknowledge such insurmountable delineation: “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” Here we can glimpse how such passive discrimination exists as lifeblood oftentimes that sustains communities in those days. Not to mention that well within our days, we still have such kind of culturally-imposed boundaries. Her actuations are not foreign to Jesus, and in one other parable about the Good Samaritan, it is more than a casual knowledge because such contrast gives a formal existence of Israel itself, which has been passed from generation to generation. The difference is lived within the social network of the Jews as against those whom they do not share their faith. As such, it does not strike too detached for Israel because they shared history with Samaritans in the days long ago.
However, Jesus again breached the divide: "“If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,‘you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” We could almost perceive the aggravation that the woman would have felt at such gross misstep into the dialogue. It was gross because the imposition of clear division had been blurred, and the words for her did not sound just right - something was amiss. This is quite evident in her reply, since she did not follow the words of Jesus going to the abstract and higher as is obvious and take that as a point of departure to connect the conversation to the identity of the Christ, whom she is talking. It is as if Jesus initiated an opening to the portal of the divine, immateriality, and spirituality, albeit off set by the difficulty of the woman to catch where it was leading. Though her response was always a check to the focal point of the dialogue - the water in the well. It is as if to say, "are you referring to the water? and would you like to drink?", which such reply brings back to the temporality of the dimension of the story. More importantly, the woman went on to inject an important element of her response; she brought up the historicity of the place to the fore, thereby pointing an implication that would unlock the personality of the Christ, the messiah: "Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this cistern and drank from it himself with his children and his flocks?”
The character of the patriarch Jacob, which is situated well within the geographical context of the well, evokes scenes of the accounts in Genesis. This coming into the story has met the presence of the one who has been promised by the prophets themselves. Jacob when he met God was challenged in a duel. However, Jesus the promised one had a duel in the person of his descendant, and by extension, to humanity, parched for the water of life.
In one sense, we insert ourselves in the story through the lens of the woman, whose feeble mind tries to grasp the mystery before her. We found ourselves divided in thoughts as we grope to accept such affrontery - an affrontery that brings relief of our restlessly seeking mind. We hope in a conversation of the "I" whose heart is always pierced in seeking those whom he has come for. May we find ourselves in haste, returning to our lives and quickening our responses to His call of repentance and mercy. May we draw ourselves to Him who arrives at a most propitious time.
At a certain basic level, it appears Jesus a Jewish male communicates with female Samaritan. The unfamiliarity exists imposed by the demands of their culture and the difference brought by history itself, though the breach was opened with a question: "Give me a drink". Somehow, the approach was carried from the heavenly to the earthly; it is obviously incarnational naturally. The words that open a conversation did not arise from the woman's lips, but comes out from the mouth of the "one who is to come". The movement, as it were, descends to dwell not just to a fellow Jew but to a woman, consigned as despised by the faith of Israel.
The opening of an encounter came as a surprise to the woman. Here, she perfectly knows the great divide that exists between them, and she did not hesitate to acknowledge such insurmountable delineation: “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” Here we can glimpse how such passive discrimination exists as lifeblood oftentimes that sustains communities in those days. Not to mention that well within our days, we still have such kind of culturally-imposed boundaries. Her actuations are not foreign to Jesus, and in one other parable about the Good Samaritan, it is more than a casual knowledge because such contrast gives a formal existence of Israel itself, which has been passed from generation to generation. The difference is lived within the social network of the Jews as against those whom they do not share their faith. As such, it does not strike too detached for Israel because they shared history with Samaritans in the days long ago.
However, Jesus again breached the divide: "“If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,‘you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” We could almost perceive the aggravation that the woman would have felt at such gross misstep into the dialogue. It was gross because the imposition of clear division had been blurred, and the words for her did not sound just right - something was amiss. This is quite evident in her reply, since she did not follow the words of Jesus going to the abstract and higher as is obvious and take that as a point of departure to connect the conversation to the identity of the Christ, whom she is talking. It is as if Jesus initiated an opening to the portal of the divine, immateriality, and spirituality, albeit off set by the difficulty of the woman to catch where it was leading. Though her response was always a check to the focal point of the dialogue - the water in the well. It is as if to say, "are you referring to the water? and would you like to drink?", which such reply brings back to the temporality of the dimension of the story. More importantly, the woman went on to inject an important element of her response; she brought up the historicity of the place to the fore, thereby pointing an implication that would unlock the personality of the Christ, the messiah: "Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this cistern and drank from it himself with his children and his flocks?”
The character of the patriarch Jacob, which is situated well within the geographical context of the well, evokes scenes of the accounts in Genesis. This coming into the story has met the presence of the one who has been promised by the prophets themselves. Jacob when he met God was challenged in a duel. However, Jesus the promised one had a duel in the person of his descendant, and by extension, to humanity, parched for the water of life.
In one sense, we insert ourselves in the story through the lens of the woman, whose feeble mind tries to grasp the mystery before her. We found ourselves divided in thoughts as we grope to accept such affrontery - an affrontery that brings relief of our restlessly seeking mind. We hope in a conversation of the "I" whose heart is always pierced in seeking those whom he has come for. May we find ourselves in haste, returning to our lives and quickening our responses to His call of repentance and mercy. May we draw ourselves to Him who arrives at a most propitious time.
Friday, January 25, 2008
The Sunday Before The Ash
Christians joyfully celebrate this Sunday as the first before the solemn beginning of the quadragesima, "a season of preparation by fasting and prayer, to imitate the example of Christ (Matthew 4)" that starts with Wednesday of Ash to the celebration of Easter, which marks the end of the triduum, the commemoration of our Lord's passion, death, and resurrection.
Mater Ekklesia is preparing her children for conversion, for the preparation of our hearts in this holiest time of the Christian liturgical year. In the preface of Dom Gueranger's work on the Liturgical Year, it says "prayer is man's boon. It is his light, his nourishment, and his very life, for it brings him into communication with God, who is light, nourishment, and life." And, this prayer finds its exact form in the Eucharistic sacrifice, as the late John Paul the Great said in his encyclical Ekklesia de Eucharistia, "it is the summit of Christian life". However, the Church should not cease Her fervent prayer directed the Trinity because "though the divine mysteries whereby our Saviour wrought our redemption have been consummated, yet are we still sinners: and where there is sin, there must be expiation". We are constantly called to convert and be forgiven.
The Liturgy of the Word opens with the words from the prophet Zephaniah, a seer who is particularly known as the watchman of the Lord. He lived and began to preach in the second half of the seventh century before Christ. To give a little background, He descended from the tribe of Simeon and grew up in the land of Sarabatha. A contemporary of another great prophet Jeremias and King Josias, Zephanja (in Hebrew which means "God conceals", in a certain sense, also means God protects) prophesied the punishment that would come to Israel first and then to the gentiles, the coming of the Messiah, and the conversion of the pagans and the blindness of the chosen people, which in the end of time, they were to be converted.
The reading is taken from the second to the third chapters, which are an exhortation of repentance. Here we read Yahweh rendering "judgment of the Philistines, of the Moabites, of the Ammonites, of the Ethiopians and Assyrians", but with Israel he has given hope, though themselves have been swallowed by their own transgressions. In these verses, the Church underlines the importance of being humble before the Lord. It is even said that the meek and the just are His reasons of his judgment.
The 146th Psalm opens with the words of joy, a praise to the Almighty. He lifts the meek but brings the wicked down to their fall. In Latin, it is particularly obvious with the opening words: Laudate Dominum, quoniam bonus est psalmus, that the Psalmist offers his thanksgiving to the goodness of the Lord, which is made manifest more clearly to those who fear and hope in Him.
St. Paul of Tarsus wrote an epistle to the Corinthians in which the Apostle to the Gentiles reproved the dissensions about their teachers, that the world was to be saved by preaching of the cross, and not by human wisdom and eloquence. The indefatigable Apostle reminded the young Church in Corinth in his day and to us of today that the "But the foolish things of the world hath God chosen, that he may confound the wise: and the weak things of the world hath God chosen, that he may confound the strong".
The Matthean gospel takes us to a hill overlooking Lake Tiberias, as recounted in the fifth chapter. Here Jesus gathered the multitudes and taught what Christianity has come to know as The Eight Beatitudes or popularly known as The Sermon on the Mount. It is traditionally known that Jesus climbed the hill of Karn Hattin or Kurun Hattin, which is not far from His hometown Nazareth, from Capharnaum where much of his ministry was centered, from Cana where he showed his first miracle, and Mt. Tabor where He showed His glory to the three Apostles. The word Beatitudes is a term coined from the word beatitudo in Latin, which means happiness, but is more tranditionally translated into English as blessed. In Greek, it is μακαριος (makarios), which literally translated to English as "possessing an inward contentedness and joy that is not affected by the physical circumstances". There have been a number of differing opinions about the exact number of the Beatitudes. St. Augustine of Hippo said it is seven because of the significance of the number in scripture and Israel, and the contemporary scholars would say four: the poor, the mourner, the hungry, and those seeking after righteousness. It is said that the other four are just additionals and commentaries to the original four.
Some thinkers in the past had been critical to the Beatitudes. Friedrich Nietzsche saw it as picture of "slave morality of Christianity", while others, like James Joyce, William Blake, and Theodore Dreiser, "condemned it as advocating life without striving".
But for us Christians, let us heed the words of St. Augustine, who in his opening words on his commentary on the Sermon on the Mount said: "If any one will piously and soberly consider the sermon which our Lord Jesus Christ spoke on the mount ... he will find in it ... a perfect standard of the Christian life ... For the sermon itself is brought to a close in such a way, that it is clear there are in it all the precepts which go to mould the life." Brothers and sisters, Rise, let us go now. Let us go the Lord and behold the hour is at hand.
Mater Ekklesia is preparing her children for conversion, for the preparation of our hearts in this holiest time of the Christian liturgical year. In the preface of Dom Gueranger's work on the Liturgical Year, it says "prayer is man's boon. It is his light, his nourishment, and his very life, for it brings him into communication with God, who is light, nourishment, and life." And, this prayer finds its exact form in the Eucharistic sacrifice, as the late John Paul the Great said in his encyclical Ekklesia de Eucharistia, "it is the summit of Christian life". However, the Church should not cease Her fervent prayer directed the Trinity because "though the divine mysteries whereby our Saviour wrought our redemption have been consummated, yet are we still sinners: and where there is sin, there must be expiation". We are constantly called to convert and be forgiven.
The Liturgy of the Word opens with the words from the prophet Zephaniah, a seer who is particularly known as the watchman of the Lord. He lived and began to preach in the second half of the seventh century before Christ. To give a little background, He descended from the tribe of Simeon and grew up in the land of Sarabatha. A contemporary of another great prophet Jeremias and King Josias, Zephanja (in Hebrew which means "God conceals", in a certain sense, also means God protects) prophesied the punishment that would come to Israel first and then to the gentiles, the coming of the Messiah, and the conversion of the pagans and the blindness of the chosen people, which in the end of time, they were to be converted.
The reading is taken from the second to the third chapters, which are an exhortation of repentance. Here we read Yahweh rendering "judgment of the Philistines, of the Moabites, of the Ammonites, of the Ethiopians and Assyrians", but with Israel he has given hope, though themselves have been swallowed by their own transgressions. In these verses, the Church underlines the importance of being humble before the Lord. It is even said that the meek and the just are His reasons of his judgment.
The 146th Psalm opens with the words of joy, a praise to the Almighty. He lifts the meek but brings the wicked down to their fall. In Latin, it is particularly obvious with the opening words: Laudate Dominum, quoniam bonus est psalmus, that the Psalmist offers his thanksgiving to the goodness of the Lord, which is made manifest more clearly to those who fear and hope in Him.
St. Paul of Tarsus wrote an epistle to the Corinthians in which the Apostle to the Gentiles reproved the dissensions about their teachers, that the world was to be saved by preaching of the cross, and not by human wisdom and eloquence. The indefatigable Apostle reminded the young Church in Corinth in his day and to us of today that the "But the foolish things of the world hath God chosen, that he may confound the wise: and the weak things of the world hath God chosen, that he may confound the strong".
The Matthean gospel takes us to a hill overlooking Lake Tiberias, as recounted in the fifth chapter. Here Jesus gathered the multitudes and taught what Christianity has come to know as The Eight Beatitudes or popularly known as The Sermon on the Mount. It is traditionally known that Jesus climbed the hill of Karn Hattin or Kurun Hattin, which is not far from His hometown Nazareth, from Capharnaum where much of his ministry was centered, from Cana where he showed his first miracle, and Mt. Tabor where He showed His glory to the three Apostles. The word Beatitudes is a term coined from the word beatitudo in Latin, which means happiness, but is more tranditionally translated into English as blessed. In Greek, it is μακαριος (makarios), which literally translated to English as "possessing an inward contentedness and joy that is not affected by the physical circumstances". There have been a number of differing opinions about the exact number of the Beatitudes. St. Augustine of Hippo said it is seven because of the significance of the number in scripture and Israel, and the contemporary scholars would say four: the poor, the mourner, the hungry, and those seeking after righteousness. It is said that the other four are just additionals and commentaries to the original four.
Some thinkers in the past had been critical to the Beatitudes. Friedrich Nietzsche saw it as picture of "slave morality of Christianity", while others, like James Joyce, William Blake, and Theodore Dreiser, "condemned it as advocating life without striving".
But for us Christians, let us heed the words of St. Augustine, who in his opening words on his commentary on the Sermon on the Mount said: "If any one will piously and soberly consider the sermon which our Lord Jesus Christ spoke on the mount ... he will find in it ... a perfect standard of the Christian life ... For the sermon itself is brought to a close in such a way, that it is clear there are in it all the precepts which go to mould the life." Brothers and sisters, Rise, let us go now. Let us go the Lord and behold the hour is at hand.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
The Water, the Temple, and the Healer
I could not help but notice a common aspect of the first reading from the prophet Ezekiel and the gospel taken from St. John. The mention of water is quite significant because the parallelism of the abundance of life that sprung from the banks of the river that initially flowed from the south side of the temple going east and the healing of the paralyzed man at the pool of Bethzatha. In the two accounts, the water becomes a transfigured element that becomes a sign of grace working in the man.
Ezekiel in his prophetical experience of an encounter that would eventually point to the future that shall be definitive recounts the water that flows from the threshold of the temple. The temple through the history of covenant people had always been identified with the presence of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The sanctuary whose essence becomes the living source of fruitful opulence in the land where it flows. Indeed, the Law as being captured by the image of the temple flows through where it has always been found to be a source of life. The salt water as a "foul-smelling water" becomes the "that becomes wholesome. Wherever the river flows, swarms of creatures will live in it; fish will be plentiful and the sea water will become fresh". This is the image of the Church that shall nourish the ages and ages and becomes the "wholesome water" for everyone to sustain on and thrive in.
The Church as the vessel of God's grace is indispensable in the work of Christ's salvation on earth. Thus, to be fully incorporated into the body of Christ, one has to pass through the water of life that shall renew and transform him from his old self to a new person. Hence, the water from the temple shall become a means of transporting one to the riches of the presence of the Lord, just as the sacrament of Baptism has a grace of making us children of God and fully participate in the life of Christ. Baptism is as if passing through a door ushers us into the abundance of being redeemed by the blood of the Lord. Hence, this initiation is a threshold of the sacramental life of Christianity for without it we will not have the Spirit that calls out to the Father Abba.
It is not accidental in the dynamics of the relationship of the old to the new that the healing of the paralyzed man at the pool becomes a link of importance of baptism towards the fulfillment of the eschatological reality of the union of the creature and the Creator. Sin and physical sickness has a link indeed for the punishment of Adam did not only dwell in the spiritual realm but in both the material and immaterial constitution of man. Thus, the reality of freedom from the oppressive influence of sin becomes vivid and concrete pointing eventually to the transcendental fact that shall become a real state when the "coming the heavenly Jerusalem" is seen descending as like a bride in anticipation of her groom. This is truly the constant teaching of the Church of the Anointing of the Sick and the Sacrament of Reconciliation that sin has a temporal aspect that should always be acknowledged.
In these times of positivistic materialism in which health is not explained from the point of sinful humanity but indeed from organic causes, it is imperative for the Church to emphasize humanity's need of redemptive causes that only from the emancipation of the Cross it is given. The healing waters of the God who becomes man in Christ Jesus whose clear image is the temple shedding the waters from the Cross watering the longing of a humanity who is in constant need of the replenishing waters of salvation from all forms of subjection and tyranny. It is nevertheless no truer than living the sacraments of the Church as a constant food for the souls of those who have wandered far and wide and whose hearts have been restless in its seeking to quench the thirst for water. In this season of Lent, we may always be find that wellspring of our source.
Ezekiel in his prophetical experience of an encounter that would eventually point to the future that shall be definitive recounts the water that flows from the threshold of the temple. The temple through the history of covenant people had always been identified with the presence of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The sanctuary whose essence becomes the living source of fruitful opulence in the land where it flows. Indeed, the Law as being captured by the image of the temple flows through where it has always been found to be a source of life. The salt water as a "foul-smelling water" becomes the "that becomes wholesome. Wherever the river flows, swarms of creatures will live in it; fish will be plentiful and the sea water will become fresh". This is the image of the Church that shall nourish the ages and ages and becomes the "wholesome water" for everyone to sustain on and thrive in.
The Church as the vessel of God's grace is indispensable in the work of Christ's salvation on earth. Thus, to be fully incorporated into the body of Christ, one has to pass through the water of life that shall renew and transform him from his old self to a new person. Hence, the water from the temple shall become a means of transporting one to the riches of the presence of the Lord, just as the sacrament of Baptism has a grace of making us children of God and fully participate in the life of Christ. Baptism is as if passing through a door ushers us into the abundance of being redeemed by the blood of the Lord. Hence, this initiation is a threshold of the sacramental life of Christianity for without it we will not have the Spirit that calls out to the Father Abba.
It is not accidental in the dynamics of the relationship of the old to the new that the healing of the paralyzed man at the pool becomes a link of importance of baptism towards the fulfillment of the eschatological reality of the union of the creature and the Creator. Sin and physical sickness has a link indeed for the punishment of Adam did not only dwell in the spiritual realm but in both the material and immaterial constitution of man. Thus, the reality of freedom from the oppressive influence of sin becomes vivid and concrete pointing eventually to the transcendental fact that shall become a real state when the "coming the heavenly Jerusalem" is seen descending as like a bride in anticipation of her groom. This is truly the constant teaching of the Church of the Anointing of the Sick and the Sacrament of Reconciliation that sin has a temporal aspect that should always be acknowledged.
In these times of positivistic materialism in which health is not explained from the point of sinful humanity but indeed from organic causes, it is imperative for the Church to emphasize humanity's need of redemptive causes that only from the emancipation of the Cross it is given. The healing waters of the God who becomes man in Christ Jesus whose clear image is the temple shedding the waters from the Cross watering the longing of a humanity who is in constant need of the replenishing waters of salvation from all forms of subjection and tyranny. It is nevertheless no truer than living the sacraments of the Church as a constant food for the souls of those who have wandered far and wide and whose hearts have been restless in its seeking to quench the thirst for water. In this season of Lent, we may always be find that wellspring of our source.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Tridentine Mass
One of the glories that I would like to encounter is the Old Mass that we would call the Tridentine. It would be truly glorious because my grandmother had depicted it in vivid recollection how it was solemn. She even was disheartened when the Novus Ordo one came into existence in 1968. From my constant hearing of hers, she indeed wished that it was back for it was sublimely beautiful. I could even resonate what the beauty of it was when listening of her memories of those Lenten activities, Holy Week liturgies, the Christmas masses, the Corpus Christi celebrations, the disciplines, practices, and devotions of the Church, and others. I still could remember how alive they were in my mind. She mentioned about Hora Sancta, Cura Iglesia, the Animas, the Agoñas, and other prayers, which until now she could verbalize from memory. Though she did not finish even grade two, she has known her prayers by heart, even the latin ones. Even today, when we say our rosaries, she would once in a while inject some memorized prayers, which she could mouth from her heart. I often wonder what could have happened if the Church from the closing of the Second Vatican Council had retained the Tridentine Mass. The Council, of course, was indeed needed in the years after the First Vatican Ecumenical Council, since it had been aborted prematurely from the onslaught of Piedmontese army on Rome. The needed changes that hanged over the Church for nearly 100 years since its unfateful end would help it realized because new challenges had been opened to the Church. How should the Church stand amidst the new thoughts, the new ways the world is doing its own way, the issues surrounding life and family, the ideas in political governments and states, the voice of the Christian Church in medicine and bioethics, and plenty of others. A council was truly needed. Nonetheless, when the eagerness of some to accommodate the ways to open the Church into the world had been given the proper ways to enunciate these, it could have gone on with preserving what is fundamentally essential within the life of faith of the Church. I think one of the losses for the post-modern Catholicism is its loss of the Tridentine Mass, which had been totally reworked "on the desk" of Archbishop Bugnini and was later approved by Pope Paul VI. The rich legacy of the distinct Catholic liturgical cycle from the days of Pope Paul V had been basketed in favor for a more direct and "effective" liturgy. I think this has greatly mistaken its own notion. The Church should have become a sort of a restraining force to the unbridled surge of the cultural revolutions that happened in the previous century. I think in this way the people of today can behold the mystery of the Church in its commanding presence amidst the vicissitudes of ideologies in the history of the world. Indeed, in its intent of opening under the spirit of aggiornamento to the world to baptize it as it were, it opened a little just enough to a destructive intent from without and corrupt it if only for a little while.
In my constant visits in my place in one of the provinces here in the Philippines, I could not help the domineering influence of my faith as evidenced by my attitude toward the Church and my constant fidelity (though not without weakness) to Her teachings. Every time I visit my birth place, memories of an old town would usually flood me. There is this tradition of ringing of bells everyday. Wherever you are in the town, if at all possible that you are within its hearing distance, usually about 30 minutes before the Mass, the bells would be rung with a regularity that has always been known by those of us around. This is quite significant for me since this is not usual in other towns I have been to. The old tone of the old bells would cast each ring with a haunting memory of an old tradition. I remember hearing it the first time that I asked my grandaunt about it. It really invites those church-going populace about the importance of being reminded of a holy liturgy about to be celebrated. And, during the consecration of the hosts and wine, two rings from the belfry would be heard as a response. It would remind me of admonishing those who are about about the consecration where the wine and bread are changed into the living body and blood of the redeemer. Though these practices have long been gone in other parts of the country, this is one of those things which have its root from the old rite of the mass before 1970.
My lola would usually recount that during the way of the cross, her grandmother would almost like kiss the ground when they would respond "kay tungod sa santos nga cruz gitubos mo ang kalibutan, which means in English, "by this holy cross, thou hast redeemed the world." Usually, the via Crucis was done inside the church with all the acolytes, ceriales, incense, and candlesticks. Nobody would not be moved by this demonstration of piety from all walks of life.
But one morning, the townspeople just woke up that the church had been evidently changed. The pulpit which stood for sometime at the right side of the nave was suddenly gone, the people had to now face the priest, and the language suddenly had turned into their own tongue. This was completely evident because my grandmother, though she was illiterate, knew that something changed without even knowing what Vatican II was. She could only adumbrate some small recollections about the gathering of bishops because it was prayed in the liturgy, but the onslaught of changes that would never have occurred to her were more than simply uncommon. It felt like a massive overhaul for them.
It was more than evident because aside from Latin to vernacular, some forms of devotions had been curtailed and prayers which used to be heard had not been heard since. The altars had been reworked and the vestments of the priests had been made anew. The fasting regulations and the great feasts of the church had been made bare to the point that it robbed it of its majesty that used to edify it. My lola would usually recalled the elaborate liturgies during Christ the King and the Corpus Christi. There were indeed processions inside the church plaza in her days and that there were some small altar, which they would call altares, for the priest to stop as he would proceed from one corner to the next. Prayers and invocations would be said in each altar with incense and pious genuflections. However, I can only listen to her account. Today, no such grand procession has had ever been. It has been turned into just a usual divine liturgy and a procession without any usual decorations of some sort to mark this feast as something glorious.
The usual Tinieblas celebration during the Wednesday liturgy on Holy Weeks were gone. Only lately I had encountered this one in our cathedral church in the holy week of 2006. It was supposed to be celebrated as the sun was setting in the west on a wednesday. My mother at her young age would recall some small children crying as the priests would try to put off the seven candles one by one after the beautiful prayers said. The whines of the little ones would be heard even louder as the last candle was blown off and taken to the sacristy. Mothers would hush their children to silence as the liturgy wore on.
One of the most unusual blend of faith and folk practices in my town Loon in Bohol is the building of bamboo platforms that would run criss crossing across the collateral nave of our beautiful and old church just prior to the celebration of tinieblas (which is called tenembrae in Latin). I asked once about it from my grandmother and she told me that it was made by the townspeople to commemorate the capture of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane on the Wednesday early evening. After the Wednesday service, the fishermen would flock to the seas to catch fish which is believed to be in plenty after the church celebration. This is one of the powerful imageries where faith and culture blend and create an evocative pedagogy of faith working in the lives of simpletons and intellectuals. If you are a third person looking on these traditions, it would compel you to believe of a working power that makes sense of a world where nature is at once subdued by an overbearing presence of an almighty. The fishermen would just put out into the sea with confidence since they perfectly know that fishes would not be amiss. What a picture indeed it was looking on them from above as they walk in droves to the seashore!
In my constant visits in my place in one of the provinces here in the Philippines, I could not help the domineering influence of my faith as evidenced by my attitude toward the Church and my constant fidelity (though not without weakness) to Her teachings. Every time I visit my birth place, memories of an old town would usually flood me. There is this tradition of ringing of bells everyday. Wherever you are in the town, if at all possible that you are within its hearing distance, usually about 30 minutes before the Mass, the bells would be rung with a regularity that has always been known by those of us around. This is quite significant for me since this is not usual in other towns I have been to. The old tone of the old bells would cast each ring with a haunting memory of an old tradition. I remember hearing it the first time that I asked my grandaunt about it. It really invites those church-going populace about the importance of being reminded of a holy liturgy about to be celebrated. And, during the consecration of the hosts and wine, two rings from the belfry would be heard as a response. It would remind me of admonishing those who are about about the consecration where the wine and bread are changed into the living body and blood of the redeemer. Though these practices have long been gone in other parts of the country, this is one of those things which have its root from the old rite of the mass before 1970.
My lola would usually recount that during the way of the cross, her grandmother would almost like kiss the ground when they would respond "kay tungod sa santos nga cruz gitubos mo ang kalibutan, which means in English, "by this holy cross, thou hast redeemed the world." Usually, the via Crucis was done inside the church with all the acolytes, ceriales, incense, and candlesticks. Nobody would not be moved by this demonstration of piety from all walks of life.
But one morning, the townspeople just woke up that the church had been evidently changed. The pulpit which stood for sometime at the right side of the nave was suddenly gone, the people had to now face the priest, and the language suddenly had turned into their own tongue. This was completely evident because my grandmother, though she was illiterate, knew that something changed without even knowing what Vatican II was. She could only adumbrate some small recollections about the gathering of bishops because it was prayed in the liturgy, but the onslaught of changes that would never have occurred to her were more than simply uncommon. It felt like a massive overhaul for them.
It was more than evident because aside from Latin to vernacular, some forms of devotions had been curtailed and prayers which used to be heard had not been heard since. The altars had been reworked and the vestments of the priests had been made anew. The fasting regulations and the great feasts of the church had been made bare to the point that it robbed it of its majesty that used to edify it. My lola would usually recalled the elaborate liturgies during Christ the King and the Corpus Christi. There were indeed processions inside the church plaza in her days and that there were some small altar, which they would call altares, for the priest to stop as he would proceed from one corner to the next. Prayers and invocations would be said in each altar with incense and pious genuflections. However, I can only listen to her account. Today, no such grand procession has had ever been. It has been turned into just a usual divine liturgy and a procession without any usual decorations of some sort to mark this feast as something glorious.
The usual Tinieblas celebration during the Wednesday liturgy on Holy Weeks were gone. Only lately I had encountered this one in our cathedral church in the holy week of 2006. It was supposed to be celebrated as the sun was setting in the west on a wednesday. My mother at her young age would recall some small children crying as the priests would try to put off the seven candles one by one after the beautiful prayers said. The whines of the little ones would be heard even louder as the last candle was blown off and taken to the sacristy. Mothers would hush their children to silence as the liturgy wore on.
One of the most unusual blend of faith and folk practices in my town Loon in Bohol is the building of bamboo platforms that would run criss crossing across the collateral nave of our beautiful and old church just prior to the celebration of tinieblas (which is called tenembrae in Latin). I asked once about it from my grandmother and she told me that it was made by the townspeople to commemorate the capture of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane on the Wednesday early evening. After the Wednesday service, the fishermen would flock to the seas to catch fish which is believed to be in plenty after the church celebration. This is one of the powerful imageries where faith and culture blend and create an evocative pedagogy of faith working in the lives of simpletons and intellectuals. If you are a third person looking on these traditions, it would compel you to believe of a working power that makes sense of a world where nature is at once subdued by an overbearing presence of an almighty. The fishermen would just put out into the sea with confidence since they perfectly know that fishes would not be amiss. What a picture indeed it was looking on them from above as they walk in droves to the seashore!
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