An engineer supervising the construction of a farm-to-market road explained to one of the villagers the advantages that would come with the project. To illustrate his point, he asked this question: “How long does it take you to carry your produce to the market by push cart?” “Three days, sir,” was the answer. “With the new road,” said the engineer, “you will be able to take your produce to the market then go back home on the same day.” “Very good, sir, I’m elated to know that,” the villager agreed courteously. “But, sir, what shall I do with the two days?”

What do we do indeed with our “extra” days? How do we make use of our “spare” time? The road to God has already been paved for us. Unlike in the days of our ancestors before God became one of us, we now no longer have to do so many wanderings to discern our way to Him. By His Incarnation, God has come to us. And so what used to be a longer route to being with Him and knowing Him has become a short journey for us. The Sacraments have assured us of this. The written Book of Life is now an easy reach. The Church has been founded so, among other things, we could be one and be together in worship and service. All this saves us time. But saving time for what?

Kiswahili speakers in Kenya are fond of saying “Haraka, haraka haina baraka” (haste has no blessing). It is akin to the dictum “haste makes wastes.” Some would comment that it is a laid back approach to life, and has no significance in a rat-race and cut-throat society where time is money and money is everything. In the so-called modern lifestyle, there is no spare time, because every second counts. Depending on how much money a person wants to earn, time is used to generate the desired amount of wealth. Time has been monetized, and because life is basically about time, it too has been monetized.

How do we value our life? What premium do we attach to it? In some sectors of the society, life has been quantified based on a person’s profession, skills, age, and even gender. Thus, the financial compensation for killing a doctor, for example, is higher than that of, say, a farmer. When time is monetized, people are objectified, and life itself is trivialized.

We are now in the season of Advent, and, moving to another liturgical year, we are preparing for Christmas, which marks the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. This Sunday’s readings talk about watchfulness, because “you do not know when the Lord of the house is coming” (Mk 13:35). Of course, we do know, that is, if we refer to Christmas as the day of the Lord’s coming. But when by the Lord’s coming we mean the ‘end of time’ or, more personally, the end of our earthly life, then we do not know.

But many things in life are known. The arrival of Christmas season is already known. Events like anniversaries, graduations, and the likes are oftentimes known in advance. Hence, when there is an intention to mark or celebrate them, we make a plan to prepare for them. The unknowns, however, are plenty and potentially catastrophic when not prepared for.

A hospital visitor said to a friend: “Am I right in presuming that it was your passion for drinking that brought you here in the hospital?” The friend replied: “I don’t think you know this place. It’s the last place on earth I’d come to if I was looking for a drink.”

Our passion for things has taken us places. Our ambitions, too, have pushed us to work harder and for longer hours and days. Whatever we are preoccupied with, it has occupied us first. In the same vein, the manner with which we prepare for Christmas determines the kind of Christmas we get.

We all got 24 hours each day. How we make use of our time is really up to us. While some of us live longer than others, in essence, every day on earth is a singular day, and every second is an important part of life. Viewed this way, Advent becomes a special time if we spend it fruitfully and meaningfully with others and with God.

A young lady was once asked how she acquired such fine dancing skills without the benefit of a professional training. She replied by saying: “I grew up with five brothers. Those were moments of grace for me because with them I learned how to dance — that is, while waiting for my turn to use the toilet.”

We all know what it is like to wait—the anxiety, frustration, impatience, and all. Most of the time, waiting is an unpleasant experience, even when we find it necessary and unavoidable. Long queues, traffic jams, delayed plane departure, late visitors, deferred appointments, postponed events, all these are regular circumstances which make us wait.

It is said that the most profound source of anxiety in waiting is not knowing how long the wait will be. When we are given a timeframe of the doctor’s arrival in, say, thirty minutes, coupled with a definitive assurance that the wait will not be longer than that, the situation could get a positive spin, compared to when we are simply told that that he is already on his way. Anxiety builds on uncertainty, uncertainty feeds anxiety. It is a continuous loop, and the way out of it is to have a good reason for waiting or to be convinced that waiting is necessary for us in order to appreciate and value more whatever is being waited for.

Second Sunday of Advent and the wait is far from over. But waiting for what? When we are waiting, time becomes very precious. Nobody wants to be kept waiting because it takes away our time, or takes us away from our time. It does not matter what else we want to do with our time, let it just be known that it is ours and ours alone. Waiting shatters all that as it compromises our ownership of time.

Second Sunday of Advent and time is still on our side, but not for long. There will be occasions when we wait for things to come, not because we want them to come, but because their arrival has been ascertained as inevitable.

Here in the Philippines, when a typhoon is approaching and is predicted to make a landfall, people would be advised to make the necessary preparations and brace for the worst. At times, this could mean evacuation and stockpiling of provisions. For those whose houses are located along a typhoon’s path, dire warnings would be issued by the relevant agencies. The hope is that no lives would be lost and destruction of properties would be minimized, if not totally avoided. It has become a common narrative in a country like the Philippines. If familiarity breeds contempt, Filipinos’ frequent encounter with typhoons must have made them great enemies.

Yet, it is not always true that familiarity breeds contempt. In some situations, it is the familiar that makes us feel secure, assured, and at home. In some situations, too, unfamiliarity causes anxiety.

Second Sunday of Advent, and Christmas is fast approaching. Like our experience with weather disturbances, we have been in this situation before. Yet, unlike any catastrophic event, Advent is familiar to us in a way that should make us feel safe, comforted, and loved. Trouble is, we might have become too comfortable with it that we would not want to change our state of affairs anymore. Rocking the boat gives us nasty feelings, so we keep things the way they are.

A voice is crying out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight His path!” the gospel of today says. This is what Advent ought to be: Road construction and repair! It sounds strange, but really preparing the Lord’s way and straightening His path means ensuring that He is able to arrive and reach our place. By doing so, we might have to re-examine the familiar and explore the unfamiliar.

In a certain village, people are busy preparing for the arrival of a very important person. Without notice, the guest comes a day earlier than originally scheduled, catching everyone by surprise. Sensing the embarrassment felt by the simple village folks, the visitor folds up his sleeves and starts sweeping the floor. He then says: “Let me help you in preparing your place for my arrival tomorrow.”

Advent’s waiting cannot be a one-person affair. Our preparation for this season cannot be done on our own. We need each other and, more importantly, we need the Lord. In truth, we are not the ones waiting for the Lord to come, for He has neither gone away nor left us. It is rather the Lord who waits for our return and arrival into His presence. And so He is waiting for us.

A policeman was giving a group of elementary school pupils a lecture on safety and public discipline when he was interrupted by a six-year-old girl. She looked up and down at his uniform and asked, “Are you a policeman?” “Yes, I am,” the officer said. “My mother told me that if I ever needed help I should ask a policeman. Is that right?” the girl asked. “Yes it is,” said the policeman. The girl extended her foot to the policeman and said, “OK, then, would you tie my shoe?”

There would always be situations which call us to do something beyond or below our normal call of duty. Perhaps due to some social expectations or high regard of self, we would think that some tasks are too “low” and menial for us. In a way it could be weird to think of this because we have been told to reach for the stars and aim high. We work hard and burn the midnight candle so as to fulfil our dreams and aspirations. Yet once we have finally achieved something we can be proud of, or just when we are ready to take up a bigger challenge, we are asked to step down from the podium of grandeur and do something ordinary. This could be disappointing, to say the least.

And it is probably for this very same reason that the man who was given just one talent in today’s gospel did nothing to increase it or profit from it. He instead dug a hole in the ground and buried it there. He might have felt slighted over the fact that others received more than he did. He might have thought that he was not as trusted as the others were, for they were given more. Less trust was put on him because less was given to him. He was being undermined, he assumed, and he did not like it.

A talent  (‘talanton’ in Greek)  means sum or value.  For the Jews during the time of Jesus, a talent, which is equivalent to 3,000 Shekels, refers to a certain amount of money good enough for several months’ wages; hence, a significant amount. For the servant in the gospel to receive just one talent while his two colleagues got more could have made him feel bad. His explanation that his master was a demanding and cruel person, harvesting where he did not scatter could be just a lame and childish excuse. He must have thought that he deserved better. He wanted a bigger deal, a higher offer, a more prestigious responsibility, a more dignified and honorable position. This is how our society sometimes works. People are hierarchically categorized and labelled accordingly.

Flea trainers have observed that fleas when placed in a box with a lid would in time adopt a strange behavior. They will jump up and hit the box cover over and over again. But as they jump and hit the lid, they will eventually limit the height of their jump so as to not hurt themselves. So when the lid is taken off, the fleas will have conditioned themselves to jump just high enough that they cannot make it out of the box anymore.

We could be doing the same thing. We control our leap, restrict our kind deeds, scale down our charity, limit our gratitude that we are no longer able to overcome our lackluster way of living our faith.  We play it safe and take the road of mediocrity. True, one talent is less than two or five talents. But one talent is more than enough for anybody who is worth his/her salt.  

Two well-worn money bills—a fifty and a one dollar—arrived at the Central Bank for retirement. As they travelled down the conveyor belt, they struck up a conversation. The fifty reminisced about the interesting life it had, traveling all over the world. “I’ve been to the finest restaurants, hotels, movie houses, private clubs, and resorts,” it said. “I even went on a Caribbean cruise. Where have you been?” “Oh,” said the one-dollar bill, “I’ve been to churches and charity homes here and there.” “What is a church?” asked the fifty.

We sometimes tell tall tales and make incredible narratives of our accomplishments. But God alone knows the real story of how much He has given us and how much we have given back. Certainly, we can do more. Certainly, we can sacrifice more, love more, and serve more. What the little girl in our story above is asking the policeman to do is in many ways what it means to value the gifts and blessings which God has given us: Go beyond the call of duty and be extra helpful and generous. Talent is no talent until it is shared to benefit others. To be truly talented or gifted, what counts most is not what we receive but what we give.

Two people decided to go for a three-day camping. One went with luggage full of supplies and personal effects that could last for days; the other barely packed anything for a day’s provision. They hiked for hours and trekked a mountain until, exhausted, they decided to put down their gears, unpack, and settle for the night. The area they picked as camping site was ideal—a clearing, water source, and safe. Time to pitch the tent, therefore. The well provisioned one had everything from food and drinks to sophisticated gadget, but no tent. The other had a meager supply of bare necessities including a tent. The night went by with the first camper suffering in the cold and left exposed to the nocturnal elements; the other, although feeling concerned for his companion but helpless as his tent could only accommodate one person, had a comfortable sleep. Second day came, both campers decided to abort their journey and return to base.

How prepared are we for life’s adventure? We plan things out and pursue our aspiration step by step, phase by phase. We go to school, get a profession or a job, build a career, establish a family or choose a vocation, adopt a lifestyle. In our run-up to adulthood and eventually into the twilight of our years, we take detours here and there, occasionally stumble, suffer some pitfalls, but for as long as we have set our sight on some objectives and determined our course of action, our principles and convictions will guide us through the way. Still, having familiarized ourselves with the rugged and unpredictable nature of life, there is no telling how we respond to challenges when they come and survive a storm when it hits our shore.

Jesus’ gospel parable for today speaks of this. Ten virgins (perhaps bridesmaids or lamp bearers) were waiting in the house for the bridegroom. They were asleep when they heard the cry that the bridegroom was on his way. Five of them were running out of oil lamps but could not get some from the other five, for there would not be enough for all of them. They then decided to leave the place in order to get oil for their lamps. While away, the bridegroom arrived and the five who left were locked out.

To prepare wisely, it is important to keep the ‘we’. We cannot insist to mind our own business but this will have repercussion on our team, family or community. The five foolish virgins assumed that they could get oil from others. The other five had enough oil just for themselves, and nothing more to spare. They too assumed that they did not have to give out oil. They got into the wedding feast, but leaving behind their five companions. Their group was split, and their experience of the wedding also changed.

‘Investment’ is the next important thing to becoming wise. To get enough oil stock that will last longer requires foresight and efforts. One must invest time and some resources into it. Investment in this sense refers to our spiritual wealth which demands proper management. Prayer, worship, charity, and service are forms of spiritual investments. Yet, what about our spending habits?  How are we doing in the family, business transactions, work ethics, and social issues? Each time we fail in our moral duties and obligations, we are spending away our spiritual resources.

To be wise, sleep or rest is important. The Lord did not criticize the ten virgins for sleeping. But the five of them ran out of oil, not because they fell asleep, but because they failed to plan ahead and bring extra oil. Sleep is essential for our wellbeing, of course. Nevertheless, many of us are overworked and always busy, and are thus sleep-deprived. But even if we have enough time to hit the sack, sleep can be elusive if our minds and hearts are troubled. To be able to sleep soundly and sufficiently, therefore, we need to be more trusting in God’s providential care and truly believe that He is watching over us all the time, our present and our future.

Lastly, to be wise entails endurance. We cannot be living in the bed of roses all the time. We go through ups and downs, and often our mettle will be tested when we are at our lowest ebb. The ten virgins in today’s parable fell asleep waiting for the bridegroom who got delayed in coming. The five of them might be foolish for not bringing enough oil, but they never thought of quitting. They did not believe that the bridegroom was no longer coming. All the virgins waited until the five of them ran out of oil.

At some point, we all run out of oil. At some point, we all need to replenish or recharge. This we must do, but must do it wisely: keep the ‘we’, invest, sleep, and endure. Life is short, we say. But it will be a short, happy, and meaningful life if we are wise.

A post office worker opened a letter addressed to God, which read:  “Dear God, I am an 83-year old widow living on a very small pension. Yesterday someone stole my purse. It had a US$100 in it which was all the money I had until my next pension check. Next Sunday my last two friends are coming over for dinner. No family to turn to, that money was my sole recourse.” The postal worker was touched, and went around showing the letter to his colleagues, who all dug into their wallets. In total, US$96 was collected, which was then sent over to the widow. The rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of the nice thing they had done. A few days later, another letter from widow came. This time it read: “Dear God, thanks so much for your kindness. Because of you, I was able to fix a lovely dinner for my friends. By the way, there was 4 dollars missing. No doubt, those thieving bastards at the post office stole again.”

We could be honest-to-goodness workers, doing our bits of trying to make the world a better place. We recognize our littleness and the expendable character of our ‘crumbs and morsels’. We know so well that whatever we have done, someone else could have done it much better if they happened to be in the right place at the right time. Yet, despite our best intentions and efforts, some of our actions are bound to be seen in bad light. What to do then when this sort of thing happens? Magnanimity dictates that we abort not our good deeds, but continue instead serving up kindness even when misjudged. Can we handle it?

Today’s gospel talks about servanthood. “The greatest among you must be your servant,” the Lord says. Each time we underline service in our action, be it a personal initiative, a social development project or outreach program, people will normally get curios about our real motives. What is it really for us? How genuinely concerned are we in helping others, particularly the less fortunate ones? Last Sunday was Mission Sunday, and the gospel of that day talked about love of God and neighbor. In the barest of sense, mission is love, and love, authentically speaking, is to be expressed through service.

As human beings, topping others or gaining the upper hand runs almost second to our hard wired need to survive, succeed, and thrive. What this entails is that even the simple act of buying street stuff, for example, would have us bargain for discounts and ask for lowered price from impoverished vendors for whom a single penny means a lot to their hungry children. In a misplaced sense of frugality that is exploitative of and inconsiderate to the plight of hardworking hawkers, we undervalue their hours of dust, rain, heat in the sun or cold in winter snow by squeezing out as much money from them as possible. Christian justice is person-centered. It focuses on people, never on the material goods they sell or produce. Hence, it is unjust for someone who got his own bank account to haggle for a one-dollar gain at the expense of a vendor who can barely afford to send his children to school. The hardest part to take in this practice is when we brag to our friends each time we succeed in ripping off something from the desperate and vulnerable.

“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted,” Jesus concludes in the gospel today. In its most basic form, service is only possible through humility. In fact, it is redundant to say ‘humble service’, for service is essentially altruistic, thus humble. A proud service is not service at all, as it is self-promoting, egocentric, self-serving.

Many things are being done in the name of service. Companies and corporations do it, terming it ‘corporate responsibility’. Church and faith-based organizations call it ministry; non-governmental and social groups volunteer for it. Common the practice of ‘public service’ might be, it still has to be clarified so as not to merely mean serving the people publicly, that is, doing it for the public to see.

It is immaterial what our profession or line of work is. We could be postal or office workers, teachers, nurses, doctors, lawyers, bankers, drivers, technicians, etc. But the call to service is the same. It means doing our tasks diligently and humbly, or exalting the simple and disadvantaged ones, lighting up the loads of the overburdened, and lifting our fingers to ease the pain of the downtrodden.

If service is to mean something, it has to be done with utter conviction of its life-changing power, first towards the recipients, but secondly and most especially to the ones rendering it, the servants who are the agents of service.

Once upon a time two brothers, who lived on adjoining farms, fell into conflict. It was their first serious rift in 40 years of farming together. It began with a small misunderstanding, which exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence. One day, the older brother hired a carpenter to build a tall fence in the middle of a wide canal which was contracted  by his younger brother and was designed to split their farms. The carpenter nodded and started working. After some time, the older brother went to see the carpenter and the progress of his work. The farmer’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. There was no fence at all, but a footbridge. On the other side of it, there was the younger brother approaching, crossing the bridge. Eventually, the two brothers met in the middle of the bridge and hugged each other.

Conflicts and tensions are part of life. Be it at home, at work, within our social circles or even in church communities, they are almost always inevitable. How we deal with them is important because they could easily cause rift among us and break our communities and families apart. While conflicts could be unavoidable, what we do with them is really up to us. We can either make creeks or build bridges.

In today’s gospel, Jesus is giving us two important lessons: (1) “love the Lord with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind;” and (2) “love your neighbor as you love yourself.” At first glance, all would seem perfect with the two teachings, until we apply them in life, and we realize that they seem to be in conflict with each other. Love of God could be used as a justification for ignoring our neighbors and turning a blind eye to those in need. Love of neighbor, on the other hand, could be used as an argument to despise God, a ‘radical secularism’ or social activism which rejects the role of God.

Jesus is building a bridge for the two seemingly opposing forces to come together. By asserting that on the two commandments “depend all the law and the prophets,” He is really saying that we cannot separate the two directives. They are a bridge to each other, each one giving the other a ‘soul’, a ‘reason for being’, an understanding that one is made complete by the other. To put rift between the two or set them apart is to change the whole dynamics and meaning of ‘love of God’ and ‘love of neighbor’. Each one is important because of the other. We love God and so we love our neighbor; we love our neighbor because we love God.

A story is told of a mother named Karen who, upon finding out that another baby was on the way, did what she could to help her three-year-old son, Michael, to prepare for a new girl-sibling. Every night Michael sang to his sister in mommy’s tummy. He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her. Finally, it was time to deliver the baby, but with much difficulty. The doctor told Karen and her husband to prepare for the worst and contact a local cemetery for burial. Meanwhile, Michael was begging his parents to let him see his sister. “I want to sing to her,” he kept saying. Hesitant at first, Karen finally relented to her son. Looking at his sister now, Michael sang: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray.” Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulse rate began to calm down and became steady. “Keep on singing, Michael,” encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes. “You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.” The very next day, the little girl was well enough to go home.

Love is healing. It fixes us and makes us complete because God created us out of love and solely for love. But for love to be complete, it has to be two dimensional — love of God and neighbor.

Someone said that Christianity is the greatest intellectual system the human mind has ever dealt with. It teaches us to die to ourselves, serve others and live with God. It challenges us to care for the needy and help the vulnerable because God lives in them. There is a bridge to be crossed here. And where there is none, we need to build one so that the two commandments will always be together and become one: love.

A cat-hating husband decided to get rid of his wife’s feline pet by taking it 20 blocks away from his home. When he returned home, the cat was already walking up the driveway. The next day, he decided to drive 40 blocks away, dropped the cat in a corner and went back home. Entering his home, there was the cat again! He kept taking the cat farther and farther, but the cat would always beat him home. Finally, he decided to drive many miles away, took several turns, crossed a bridge, then some more turns, until he reached what he thought was a safe distance from his home and left the cat there. Hours later the man called his wife: “Jen, is the cat home?” he asked. “Yes”, the wife answered, “why do you ask?” “I’m lost,” says the man, “and I need the cat to guide me home.”

It is said that as travelers we are only as good as our ability to go back home. Regardless of how well we are able to reach a destination, heading back home is a critical aspect of our journey.

Home is an all-encompassing reality. We shall never fully leave it behind no matter how far we go away. And even if some of us go through life devoid of a place to call home, its absence could create longing in our hearts which only home can satisfy. The truth is, devoid of a home, our life would be lacking in context, meaning, and perspective.

In today’s gospel, Jesus was asked if it would be proper to pay taxes to the Roman emperor. The question was loaded with political overtones. Colonized by the Romans, the Jews paid tax to the foreign occupiers of their land and so surrendered their freedom and dignity. Perhaps anticipating the question, Jesus did not only address the political issue head on, He also expanded it and gave it a soul. Instead of simply saying yes or no to the question, He took an out-of-the-box approach by stating to render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.

Jesus’ answer changed the thinking behind the question. By affixing God to His reply, He led people’s attention back to God. Here’s the critical point: the ‘Caesar question’ must be addressed side by side with the ‘God question’. More importantly, however, the former must be viewed through the optics of the latter.

Today’s gospel is oftentimes used to discuss the religious-political divide, specifically the Church and State separation. While the gospel could shed light on the issue, it is more than that. It tells us to put God back into all of life’s agenda, projects, issues and problems. Implied in the Lord’s answer is that the ‘Caesar issue’ becomes problematic and will be lacking in depth if it is viewed within a pure political framework, divorced from the ‘God issue.’ The ‘God issue’ encompasses everything and is the prism through which we view everything else. Indeed, this is a concern more fundamental and relevant than politics.

We have many trepidations in life which we want God to endorse and support. We work hard and pray hard. We ensure that God is part of our plan. A sound approach, perhaps, but certainly not the best one. Instead, we need to start with God’s plan and concern. We endorse it, support it, and use our talents and material resources to accomplish His plan. How we operationalize our efforts to fulfill God’s plan is where our personal plan would come in.

A story is told of a navy captain who was alerted by his First Mate about a pirate ship approaching their ship. He commanded a sailor to get him his red shirt. Asked why, the captain replied, “So that when I bleed, you guys won’t notice it and you won’t get discouraged.” They eventually fought off the pirates. The very next day, the captain is alerted of 50 pirate ships heading their way. He yelled, “Get me my brown pants!”

Life is tough, we say. Yet, it will be tougher without God and way much tougher if God is not hailed as larger than life and bigger than Caesar. Whatever ‘Caesar’ we are dealing with now, whatever issue of power is “taxing” us at the moment, we need to make it part of the ‘God question’. Our concerns, be they political, economic, cultural or social, has their rightful place. But to find a place for them in life is one thing; to know that God is the place to be and the home of all our concerns is another.

A story is told of a father who was impressed by his son’s ability to draw a large crowd to his public lecture. He asked him how he did it and the son replied: “Oh it’s like this, father. Three groups comprised the audience.  First group was made up of my students who came to listen to my lecture as part of their course requirement. The second were those who showed up because they want to be with the students, and the third were security officers sent by the students’ parents.”

Being drawn to something is a common human experience. Depending on what attracts us and the intensity of our fascination, inconveniences are sometimes negotiated or accepted as part of the deal. On the other hand, loathing something can be hard to overcome without some enticements or some good reasons for doing so.

Today’s gospel talks about God’s attempt to draw us to Him, exemplified by Christ’s parable of a king who invited guests to a wedding feast. Nobody turned up at first, and so the king sent invitation to another group of people. The invitees came this time, but many of them were dressed inappropriately for the occasion. What the king did to the first group of invitees who refused to come and to those in the second group who showed up in an appearance that was unbecoming for a wedding guest is worthy of attention, for they essentially suffered similar fate. The king condemned them and ordered that they be killed.

It is a cruel proposition of course to liken God to the king in today’s parable — that a merciful God who invites us to come to Him would have us killed if we reject His invitation. We could question if God is indeed infinitely merciful or truly unconditional with His love for us. Today’s parable seems to suggest otherwise.

Before reaching such conclusion though, it would be helpful to understand the context. As stated in the parable, guests were invited to a wedding feast — a joyful, happy and blissful occasion which the king wants people to attend and be part of. A wedding signifies joy-filled celebration, a festivity, a gathering of friends and loved ones, a day (or days) of laughter and fun, of sumptuous meal and plentiful drinks. A wedding is a communion, a sealing of relationship and commitment. The parable could very well be speaking of our union with God to which we are invited to celebrate joyfully. In short, God is inviting us to a life of eternal happiness with Him.

The parable states that some invitees in the first group went about their usual daily chores of working in their farms or doing other business instead of coming to the wedding. Hard at work perhaps to support their families, they had no time to attend events like a wedding. This is a valid excuse, no doubt. Yet, to be working so hard for whatever reason and be no longer interested to accept invitations coming from a king could be interpreted in another way. And those who did not only refuse the invitation but also killed the ones who delivered the invitation to them could be motivated by something deeply personal and political. Similarly, attending the wedding but dressed inappropriately was taken as an insult and a contemptible behavior, which the king condemned.

God is inviting us to royal banquet to dine with Him. We could be preoccupied with so many things, but what we do with our time, resources and abilities will have a bearing on our relationship with the Lord. It is not that God will cruelly punish us or send fire and brimstone to consume us. Rather, missing a happy occasion of being with Him and being part of a divine plan to build His Kingdom here on earth would be a condemnation we  bring upon ourselves.

We all have standing invitation from God. In truth, however, we do not need to depend on such invitation anymore. To be truly drawn to the Lord, be attracted to His kindness, and enticed to His gracious presence would be enough for us to seek Him. If we are worth our salt as Christians, we cannot ask God to follow and accompany us always. Instead, being Christ’s followers and disciples, we are the ones who need to follow Him, invite Him and ensure that we remain close to Him.

A legend is told of a Christian community in Germany during the dark days of Jewish persecution. A priest, acting on Nazi orders, said to the congregation, “All of you who had Jewish fathers should leave and not return.” A few worshippers stood up and left. Then the priest said further, “Now all of you who had Jewish mothers must go and not come back.” Again a few worshippers rose and slipped out. Suddenly, those who remained turned pale, for the Figure on the crucifix above the altar had vanished.

It is easy to claim that we are Christians, by virtue of the Sacrament we received and our association with the Church. Yet when push comes to shove and when our lives are threatened or when better prospects of life are luring us, sticking to the ‘yes’ we have said to the Lord and staying committed to our faith can be compromised.

Today’s gospel takes us back to our ‘yes’ to God, our baptismal and faith-inspired assent. Two sons were tasked to work in the vineyard. The second son said ‘yes’, but did not do anything to fulfill it. The first son said ‘no’ but changed his mind later and did what was asked. The Lord’s point is direct and clear. Even if the first son could be admired for making a turn-around by eventually following the father’s command, why he said ‘no’ in the first place is something worth asking.

Jesus leaves the parable open for us to reflect on. When at the first instance we reject an invitation from God to do something for Him, but later on alter and rework our original position and then eventually take the Lord’s bidding, we wonder why we were unable to give him our assent right away. Prophet Jonah’s experience is a case in point. Sometimes we need something startling or disconcerting to jolt us out of our indifference, passivity, and doubts.

 But then there is also the second son who said ‘yes’ but did not keep it. Again, the gospel did not explain why and so we are left wondering. Perhaps this son was incapable of standing up to his father and too insecure a person to say ‘no’ to him right away. Not much of a character, his frivolity and weak-willed spirit caused the father’s disappointment.

The story of the two sons in Jesus’ parable today can be retold in various ways using our individual life-situations. In whichever way, one element remains constant: we have been invited to work in the Lord’s vineyard and our response is crucial.

Two women are arguing about which dog is smarter. The first woman said: “My dog is so smart that every morning he waits for the paper boy to come around and then takes the newspaper and brings it to me.” The second woman replied: “I know.” “How?” asked the first. “My dog told me,” explained the second woman.

What makes us smart or wise? If we say the right words at the right time, we can enthrall our friends, charm our loved ones, or mesmerize strangers. The second son knew this. By saying the magic word ‘yes’, he became adorable to the father, but only for a time, a borrowed time, because his fleeting and trivial reason for saying so was eventually exposed.

“Growing old is easy, growing up is tough,” a caption reads. Oh, that we would rather grow up than old. The fabled ‘Fountain of Youth’ has become a billion-dollar industry. Beauty products, diet fads, fashion illusions are all indicative of a culture that promotes skin-deep appearance over substance, youthfulness over wisdom, popularity over integrity. Here’s a swipe: While we do not look forward to reaching our second childhood, getting stuck in the first childhood will be more undesirable.

We might have accumulated a good number of years living our Christian faith since our baptism. In spite of that, Christian maturity is not guaranteed. Last Sunday’s gospel reminds us of this. There are those who got initiated into Christian faith and were baptized already as adults. Yet they have proven themselves very mature and seasoned already in terms of depth of spiritual understanding and moral bearing.

 It is said that God is a God of little things and big dreams. He appreciates the sincerity of our simple efforts. He values our little works done with heartfelt devotion because He has high hopes and heavenly wishes for us. He knows our limited capabilities, of course, yet He also treasures our infinite worth. He is a God who shapes things for us so that we, on our part, would shape our whole life for Him. He wants our nod, not just as an expression of fear or wanting to please him, but as a committed life-long struggle of knowing Him more and striving to serve Him better.

Three fellows who died at the same time were taken up to heaven and presented before the great throne of God. The first one, a carpenter, was asked by God: “Ted, what do you believe?” Ted replied, “I believe that if everyone on earth owns a house and has a bed to sleep at night, the world will be a happier place.” God pondered for a second then said, “Good idea. I’m delighted that you believe in that. Come, sit at my left.” God then asked the second person, a teacher: “Bert, what do you believe?” Bert answered, “I believe that if world leaders would all read the Book of Life and take to heart its lessons, there will be real progress and peace in the world.” Thrilled to hear the words of the educator, God invited him to sit at His right. Last up was a billionaire who owned a chain of stores worldwide. Asked about what he believed, the capitalist responded: “I believe you’re sitting in my chair!”

Ownership is a contentious issue and highly sought after. Owning something means controlling it, having authority over it, and then using it in whichever way the owner wants. As a form of empowerment, it enhances a person’s social status and improves his/her economic condition. Today’s parable talks of ownership — that is, the usurping of vineyard by the tenants from the landowner.

It goes like this: A landowner planted a vineyard, developed it, leased the whole property to tenants, and then left. Harvest time came, the owner sent servants to get his share of the produce. But the tenants killed all the servants. Ever an optimist and generous, the landowner sent his son, but he too was killed. The story ended with Jesus asking the listeners what they thought the landowner should do. “He will put those wretched men to a wretched death and lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times,” the audience replied.

Like the other gospel parables, this one is rich in symbolism and representation. Jesus was of course suggesting that the Jewish leaders during His time were the tenants to whom Yahweh the Owner had entrusted His vineyard, the people of Israel (cf. Is. 5: 7). God sent prophets as messengers but they were all killed. He finally sent his Son Jesus who suffered the same fate in the hands of the scribes and Pharisees. Historically, this is the association we could make of today’s parable. Personally, however, the lessons are very relevant.

We are mere tenants or stewards of God’s creation. We do not own what we possess. And so we are supposed to offer back to God all that we have. But this is extremely difficult to do for many of us. Life as we know it is bedeviled with uncertainty, fear, and deprivations. We often grab opportunities when they come, create them when they don’t. And when we do not like the opportunities we have, we alter them if we could to work in our favor.

In the parable, there was no shortage of produce from the vineyard, thanks to the hard work of the tenants, but also to the landowner who accommodated and hired the tenants. But the plentiful harvest and success might have gone to the tenants’ heads. Instead of expressing loyalty and gratitude to the owner, they wanted to take all from him. Obviously, they had darker ambitions.

Another story. Jim was walking to the parking lot after a poor game of golf when a policeman stopped him and asked, “Did you tee off on the sixteenth hole about twenty minutes ago?” “Yes,” the golfer responded. “Did you happen to hook your ball so that it went over the trees?” “Yes, I did.” “Well,” said the policeman very seriously, “Your ball flew out onto the highway and crashed through a driver’s windshield. The car went out of control and hit a fire truck. The fire truck couldn’t make it to the fire, and the building burned down. So, what are you going to do about it?” Jim thought it over and responded, “I think I’ll correct my posture a little bit, tighten my grip and lower my right thumb.”

A self-absorbed person is oftentimes unable to see things beyond self. Driven by personal interests, persons of this kind would not set limit to success and ambition. While this in itself could be commendable in some aspects, it could send us spiraling down to a life of radical individualism and greed. In the parable, the tenants wanted nothing less for themselves than the whole harvest, and they turned murderers to achieve this.

Stewardship is heart hard at work for God. Living on a borrowed life and mere caretakers of things we possess and have achieved, we God’s stewards rely on the Lord’s providential care to survive and thrive. We also work hard so as to become more generous to others and to have something more to share and give back to God.