Evil Is Real

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There is a tendency among religious people to minimize or even romanticize evil away.
I myself would sometimes see sin as being part of the human condition,
being weak or being incomplete or being imperfect.

But there is real evil in the world.
The evil that would intentionally destroy what is true and beautiful.
The evil that would deliberately kill and snuff out innocent lives.
The evil that would oppress and take advantage of the weak and the defenceless.

Think of the EJKs in the government’s current drug war or the killing spree in Negros. Think of the many genocidal wars being waged around the world.
Think of political leaders who have killed thousands, even millions of their own.
Think of the greed that would bring down the world’s financial system for their own gain.

And the sad thing is that a lot of these evil deeds are sometimes done invoking the name of God and religion.

Real evil can also take root in me if I allow it or am not care-full.
With all humility and faith, I pray
“Do not let us fall into temptation but deliver us from evil.”

“He who sows good seed is the Son of Man,
the field is the world, the good seed the children of the Kingdom.
The weeds are the children of the Evil One,
and the enemy who sows them is the Devil.”

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Being in Control

All these places had their moments

Today is the feast day of Martha, the typical OC person, the patron saint of people who love to be in control.

I have experienced what it is like to be in control, to be followed and obeyed, to be heeded and sought for counsel and advice. It makes one heady and it can be intoxicating. Much like the physical experience of being in the rarefied atmosphere of high places. It warps the mind and distorts one’s senses and perception.

Many saints and many achievers have the tendency to be obsessive-compulsive. They have this strong urge to put things into order, to correct what is wrong, to align what is amiss. And the best way to do that is to be in control. The saving grace of saints is their ability to realize that in the end God is in control. For all their OC-ness, they know and can discern when to leave and lift everything up to God. To withdraw and to withhold. To give up control. To be small and insignificant.

No one wants to be small and insignificant. Yet, there are valuable lessons to be learned by being small and insignificant. After the giddiness and elation of the peaks of the mountain, it can be restful and refreshing staying in the shades of the valley floor.

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What Should I Ask For?

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And I tell you, ask and you will receive;
seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you. 
For everyone who asks, receives;
and the one who seeks, finds;
and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” 

“Be careful what you ask for.” was a sage advice I learned from my late mother-in-law. I sometimes ask for something which I would regret later. Even worse, when I pray or ask God for something, there are times I feel like I am telling God what to do. The truth is things do not work out that way.

Often people would ask for physical comforts or material blessings. This world would be a lot better place if we asked where we can help and serve others.
We would often seek worldly success or even fleeting happiness. Our seeking would be more fruitful if we sought where and how we can help alleviate pain and suffering.
We knock on doors hoping to enter the door of success or fame. Our knocking would please God better if we would knock on doors that have never been visited or neglected.

We ask and pray for blessing like God owe them to us. Isn’t life blessing enough? And because we are alive, isn’t that all we need. Yes, because I am alive, I have everything I need. Is it wrong to ask for pain and suffering? Does it not make sense to pray for the cross? I ask instead for strength, courage, and character to be able to survive my pain and suffering or to help others in theirs.

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The Wheat and the Weeds

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The weeds among the wheat.
There seems to be a lot these days.
The sower did sow good seeds
And yet there those who’ve gone astray.

We pray the Lord of the Harvest
To still recreate these into good
To avoid being thrown into the fire
And instead still be served as food

But plants do not transform
From one kind into another
Once a weed always a weed
No changing whatsoever

People are not plants
That cannot change at all
With God’s help and grace
we can always rise up whenever we fall

“Let both of them grow together until the harvest;
and at harvest time I will tell the reapers,
‘Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned,
but gather the wheat into my barn.’ ” 

 

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The Reality of Ageing

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I have always loved the songs of Simon and Garfunkel.
They have the uncanny ability of capturing my thoughts and feelings
and beautifully expressing these in words and music.
They express in very personal terms what seem to be very universal experiences.
They capture in words and music “what oft is thought but ne’er so well expressed.”

Like, capturing the paradoxes of life in their song “The Sound of Silence:
people talking with out speaking, people hearing without listening.”
Like, it is a shame that mankind today has the resources
to wipe out poverty but we still haven’t.
Great strides have been made in poverty alleviation in recent years;
yet, many would solve this problem through population control, including abortion. Never has the world been so small and interconnected,
yet there is even more disconnectedness and loneliness among people.
Man has fathomed matter and found the smallest particle;
he has reached out to the stars and found ginormous black holes.
Yet, he still has to slake the thirst in his heart and the hunger in his soul.
I have tried to assuage this hunger and thirst through noise and activity.
I am learning that silence and prayer are more effective in quenching this disquietude.

The other day I got to reading the lyrics of “Bookends” again:

Time it was 
And what a time it was, it was 
A time of innocence 
A time of confidences

Long ago it must be 
I have a photograph 
Preserve your memories 
They’re all that’s left you.

The words were so poignant, they brought me to another place and time.
I felt I just had to listen to song one more time.
So I played it.
And I was shocked.
My hearing loss has been so great there were pitches and tones I could not catch anymore. the song did not sound as moving as I remembered it. It even sounded kinda out of tune in some parts.

I realized this was part of aging. Things I realized and loved are now but memories.

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A Wet Dream

There are places I remember

This is not about what most people would think. But I could not think a more appropriate title than this.

Early this morning, I had the weirdest of dreams.

Anabelle and I have a very dear friend whom we have not seen for a long while. Let’s call her Heart. She had been having serious health issues and we wanted to see her. The problem is she lived literally in the boondocks, far away from the city we slickers lived in. But we made the effort. Their place was at the foothills of the Sierra Madre mountains.

So, there we were waiting for Heart to come and join us in their beautiful and huge garden. It was a fine day for the outdoors. Soon, Heart was coming towards us, her face beaming, radiant, in the pink of health and in high spirits. Even from a distance, she already had her arms open for an embrace. And just like that we were in each others arms: laughing, giggling, just happy to be seeing each other again after a long, long time. Very soon, we were like dancing around their garden – recalling, remembering, reminiscing moments and memories. And as we were prancing around, I called out to her sisters who were also enjoying the morning in the garden, “Isn’t she lovely?” And with a mystified look on their faces, they said, “Who? You’re by yourself?”

When I fully realized the import of their reply, I just broke down into tears filled with a heartfelt joy and deep gratitude, fully aware of the blessing and gift that Heart has been to my life and that of our family. Through my tears, I told her, “Tears are the language of love when words are totally inadequate.”

When I woke up, my eyes were still moist.

 

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Life Will Not Be Denied

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Sometimes, I imagine would my life as a field
and I would see this patch of dried up and desolate dead flowers,
twigs and grass as I zoom in on what I am going through right now.
But if I expand my horizon and see things in a wider angle and perspective,
I see my life as a green and verdant meadow.
Fragrant wild flowers are abloom everywhere.
All sort of animals are feeding and romping in the grass.
Nearby, a brook silently flows, refreshing and enlivening everything it touches,
even as all sorts of fish jump in and out of the waters.
In the distance are huge trees, some pregnant with fruits
and others inviting with their restful shade.
The patch of brown is withered, yes.
But it is just getting ready to be reborn into some new growth
of still other flowers or trees.
Indeed, the wide-angle view of my life make me realize
how blessed I am and have been.
Is it all chance and serendipity?
Or, is it the Presence writing His words into my life?
He who calls out, He chooses and He consecrates.

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Vine and Branches

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A water faucet will give no water unless it is tapped into a water source.
An electric wire has no power unless plugged into a power source.
A branch bears no fruits unless if it is rooted into a vine.

There are times I feel so empty and barren
I wonder what my source is
or whether there is a vine I am attached to.
The feelings can sometimes be overpowering
that no amount of self-affirmation
or falling back on my faith can assuage the desolation.
These are moments when my faith seems nothing more than whistling in the dark
or grasping at straws.
I can only stay and abide and wait for the storm to blow over.
Still the doubts linger.
Is this all for real?

“I am the vine, you are the branches.
Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit,
because apart from me you can do nothing.”

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On a Wing and a Prayer

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Every morning, I make time and space for prayer.
Just before the rest of ‘my world’ wakes up, I come to prayer as a total person,
turning my attention to the Totally Other Person.
I have learned recently that that means coming to prayer
with my body and soul, my mind, my heart and my will.
My body is sometimes sleepy and my soul is often restless.
My mind and imagination often take flights of fancy
taking me to all sorts of times and places.
But I will my body to stay in the here and now.
My heart remains at rest in the Presence whose company I seek.
And I have made the decision to stay.
And the moments I spent in such position and disposition of peace and quiet
are times of peace and quiet, of grace and prayer.
Words become superfluous as I relish being ‘in the moment’.
And in that moment of grace and prayer, I often find myself
saying like Mary on that first Easter morn, “I have seen the Lord.”

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Live Life in Moments, Not Minutes

One can count time either in minutes or in moments.
Minutes are the ticking of the clock,
the inevitable passing away of events and opportunities.
Moments are the feeling of a heartbeat,
the happy unfolding of life with all its joys and sufferings.

Minutes have to do with finiteness of time,
a mere measure of getting from here to there, from now to then.
Moments have to do with the fullness of time,
an awareness of things becoming what they have been meant to be. 

Minutes are the reason we schedule and plan our lives.
Moments are the seasons around which we organize and celebrate our lives.

The Greeks called the former ‘chronos’ and the latter ‘kairos’.
We measure ‘chronos’ through the passage of the sun and moon across the sky.
We know ‘kairos’ through the movement of the stars in the heavens.

Mary lived her life in moments; she sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak.
Martha counted the minutes, anxious and worried about many things

Choose to live my life in moments rather than seconds.

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