CHAPTER 4 - THE HOMILY

Chapter 4

The Homily

(Source: Microsoft Bing. 07-01-2022)

"Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung around his neck and he was thrown into the sea. And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off; you should enter life maimed than with two hands to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off; you should enter life lame than with two feet to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it off; you should enter the Kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, where their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched. For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how will you season it; have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another."

"Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ," responded the mammoth churchgoers collectively after Driarco kissed the Oxford Annotated Bible Revised Standard Version reading the gospel of St. Mark Chapter 9:42-50. Dropping it back gently on the rostrum, he cleared his throat uttering in the silence of his heart 'Lord give me Thine voice to speak Thine ear to listen and Thine mind to grasp your mystery'. Bracing himself to an exciting and didactic homily he probed:

"What's your take on the gospel just read?" Fr. Driarco asked setting the tone of his homily his right fingers bashing repeatedly the rostrum like playing the piano. The silence was deafening the churchgoers this time caught on the receivers' end waiting for words of wisdom from the homilist to live by.

"Astounded gripped by terror catching you in fear and trembling! Not gospel at all. Where's the good news there anyway if we're as good as living dead worms feasting while being roasted by unquenchable fire there in hell," if I may venture to say

breaking their deafening silence.

"Most likely, disoriented too realizing the horrifying graphics St. Mark in his gospel is showing to us."

"How is that again– you thrown into the sea with great millstone in your neck. . .

hands and foot cut off, eyes plucked out from their sockets, worm feasting dead bodies before thrown into the hell roasted by unquenchable fire!" he narrated back to drive home his message.

"Atrocious. A better life than dead," you might say.

"And you must be, of course. But hold on. That as far as our little general understanding we have about death is concerned," he said raising his left hand.

"Truth of the matter to tell like my dear father now in casket whom we are paying our last respect, we too would follow him dead anyway when our time comes. It's just a matter of time. Are any of us in a hurry here? Not for now maybe your plea and rightly so. Maybe because of your own unfinished business you still have to accomplish whatever that means."

"But what if Grim Reaper would make you part of his harvest right here, right now?" he said his voice gradually becoming resonant. "Again, no problem, well taken."

"Rightly so because we are all God's children that we long to be with Him living in perfect bliss and contentment forever. Why not?"

"Temporal or physical death. Yes, why not. And we don't have any business living in this world if we are afraid to die. It's because just like the military, the bottom line is time," he paused for the moment allowing his message to sink deeper into the consciousness of listeners.

"Yes sure, it's just the question of time. Fine coming naturally and bad when out of the blue shrouded yet in mystery!" he emphasized.

"Spiritual death – that's a no-no to us professing Christian. St. Paul says it all: death where is your sting and death where is your victory? That's precisely how our early apostles thought of death. Ergo, my dear faithful sojourners beware that which may kill compromising your soul. Never mind our mortal body. It is heavy baggage pulling us back. Let it stay degenerate as fertilizers of mother earth from whose bosom we were taken. Christ already died for us and raise us when He resurrected us. And what is this far dangerous second death? St. John in his Revelation 2:11 identified this as the final condemnation of sinners to be thrown to the lake of fire."

"Now the crucial question is – are you listed in the book of life?" Another silence.

"Okay let's open different pages of our life back right now and ask: What's up and where are you now. Is your name listed in the book of life? Hello there?" he re-echoed again wanting to have his message ringing a bell and capturing the interest of his listeners.

"You can answer that but of course, with the imprimatur of God because He's all-knowing. If not then."

"Don't fret, you still have time. Look yourself in the mirror and know who you are. But that is subjective. Thus, scrape off the silver lining at the back of that mirror and let people see you through who you are. If you're not what they think you are. Who do you think you are then? It's time for a reality check as God through St. Mark might have already reserved a place for you to that lake of fire!"

"But sorry we are not that old to die, Father, you might bargain," he said slowly emphasizing each word.

"Yes of course. But please be informed that death is like a thief in the night striking when we least expect his visit. No problem dying our natural death. What a comforting development dying naturally. But not in a blue? Right," he begged the question repeating what has been delivered earlier never mind as long the people got the point.

Holding on to catch his breath, he proceeded.

" The reverse holds. No way when death comes out of the blue. One that is suspect shrouded in mystery yet! One given to you by circumstance snuffing out that lights out from you through force whatever beyond human comprehension," he said carried by the effect of his discovery but holding back to keep its confidentiality from the mourning public.

"Reveal too soon and crusade for peace would also be dead," his subconscious took him back.

"Too early pricking their conscience yet," he cautioned.

"To succeed one thing is only needed – that is, allowing whatever action you have concocted to stay only in your mind. No one can bug that conspiracy in there, the result will be even carried to your grave," the reflection recovering his consciousness and focusing back where he earlier left off.

"I'm sorry, it seems I've gone too far in my take on the second implication," he rectified himself avoiding any suspicion.

"Now I wonder if you have your epithet, words of wisdom your life is identified with you might later emboss in your tombstone," he uttered switching back to a non-combative stance.

"I think some of you do have and nice to know if it reflects all there is about you."

"But as Christian and traveling in this one journey called life, I think we could relate to this epithet on a gravestone in Indiana Cemetery, America."

"Stop stranger when you pass me by. As you are now so once was I. As I am now so you will be. Therefore, prepare to die and follow me."

The placard in five languages in a crypt of the three skeletons further tells it all: "What you are now, so once was I. And as I'm now so you will be. Prepare therefore to follow me!"

"But who cares when we would all experience that crossover in our lives anyway."

"Where we go therefore is what counts. How a jogger edited that epithet is the answer and in order here."

"To follow you I'll never be content until I know which way you went!" the homilist revealed.

"Hello there! Again, what's your take on the epithet just read. Normal and unperturbed, you'll probably say. No question about this as we're all passing mortal. Just hang on," you might add.

"We are practicing Christian, I hope so. Death, therefore, is a welcome development for each one of us. That is what truly separates us from the rest. We all know of course that only one person was given that license conquering and living again after death, Christ our Master no less," the homilist emphasized his index finger pointing upward.

"Buddhist on the other hand goes beyond the concept of death what with soul traveling up there in Upper Chamber. They believe that an old self merely takes a new form of body through reincarnation. Cows and even earthworm in the case of Dalai Lama's preaching could be their ancestors; hence, sacred. "

"Science of many decades too stirred and fanned controversy when a laboratory in the US opened for business guaranteeing at least another century of immortality for the human body. But the catch is, it's only your head that could have the semblance of life as it would only be planted to an entirely different new younger body. Michael Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor were among the early birds' clients. But science playing God? No way. In the movie yes but not in real life. Wandering soul guarding its frozen head science caused us to believe century after is a sick joke bordering on stupidity.

"This free will proves again to be the most powerful gift God gives us. It's either you live a Christian life keeping all the way the faith practicing it for good until the race is won or you may opt to live as you wish enjoying life to the fullest read in this dictum among materialists: "Life is but once. Enjoy it while it lasts!"

"That I think depends on where you stand and what institution you're representing because if you do you are entirely missing the mark. The truth of the matter is life is a continuum. We have to die to live again to earn the promise of eternal life God gives us. You're right, happiness is right here. But you're dead wrong because that happiness is temporal, passing contentment which doesn't last. True happiness is up there, one that is forever outlasting all bliss you get and enjoying here."

"Songs too among romantics lusting for life provide exciting nuances of death. "Dust in the wind. Everything is dust in the wind. Same old song, nothing last forever but earth, sky, and endless sea.

All we do tumble to the ground though we refuse to see. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in wind. All we are is dust in the wind," well said by this song.

"There's also an old Elton John's "Daniel" leaving that night on a plane heading towards Spain waving him goodbye but through grief, actually mere cloud in the sky or of Acosta's "Don't Fade Away" telling the story of a father who just passed away considered a friend so dear. "O My Papa" is everybody's all-time favorite. How would you not miss him when you were left without a trace back then when you were a barely gullible two years old boy. Victim of cold-blooded murder when his close friend yet pumped him nine bullets felling his body. No question asked until today save for that opportunity when the time comes seeing and meeting him face to face or soul to soul to what could be the grandest reunion of all time up there." This is where the song "Dance with Father Again" seems the fitting ditty for the occasion.

"There's also Tagalong song "Saan Darating ang Umaga" originally sang by Raymond Lauchengco. But it was Asia's Diva Lani Misalucha giving justice to that beautiful with her electric rendition her voice soaring to high heavens using whistle executed by few singers like Lani."

"Nothing in this world is permanent, nothing except death and taxes. And of course, for the uninitiated and those who have not yet been party to this kind of experience – family still intact - a little bit reserved and restless. It's both scary and ugly when we relate it to different images we witnessed, seen, and heard. Who would not feel sick? The sight alone of the casket and the different faces inside send a shiver down our spine. Add the incense emitting perfumed vapor, burning candles, the offensive odor of thawed flowers, and all that provides not only an eerie environment but also an extremely appalling and sometimes gripping feeling of deep fear and trembling. My nine years of stay in the Seminary bringing me as far as Taipei to Kaohsiung in Taiwan have shown it all just how authentic the reality of death has been. Yes Sirs, reality bites!"

"So, any takers? Resounding 'No!' and 'Not for now' is your categorical reply.

Naturally so as you are probably still held captive by the fear of death. Denial, argued by an eschatologist is just one stage of the psychology of death. Bargaining and later, acceptance follows. In both cases, we're given time to think, rethink and prepare. Those who wait for the 11th hour die at 10:30, a familiar sticker reminds us. Life has no spare, live it with prayer, advises another dictum. Ergo, death is not only real, it is also didactic imbuing our greater sense of understanding of the immediacy of time, giving us benefits of doubts on how to manage and use time. When it would be finally an opportunity to go, would secure us from anxiety accompanying the realization of impending death. Calvinists before Industrial Revolution just exactly did that.

Associating acquisitiveness as a requirement in entering heaven, members pooled together their resources which soon led to Capitalism. Martin Weber had a graphic account of that phenomenon in his historic "Protestant Ethics and the Rise of Capitalism."

"We can't just philosophize death theologians would say. Why? Life is a continuum as indicated. We are all experiencing death every day. A little part of our life is taken from us. We get sick, grow old, and soon would perish. That time when we cease to breathe is simply a cessation of breath, but life goes on with death as special growth takes place. Unless the grain of wheat shall fall on the ground and dies, it shall remain single wheat and not give life," the wisdom of the Jesuit song 'Behold the Wood of the Cross' again reminds us.

"Well said and explainable. And similarly, for those whose death was forcibly handed unto them – accidents, calamity and all that – simply amazing you might exclaim. It might be scary alright. But that's all-in life."

"But it is also beautiful once it happens in its natural way, not that one taken away unceremoniously and mercilessly out of the blue snuffing away dear life given by God the likes of cold-blooded murder, massacre, terrorism and inhuman barbaric acts defying description."

"Perceptions of death undoubtedly vary. Among Atheists and skeptics, death is nothing other than immaterial and irrelevant. The more and the longer you qualify its reality, the faster you explain the issue away. More than the doubting Thomas, they don't give a damn come what may. Worst, terrorists' neurotic claims as far as they are concerned are infallibly correct. Imagine becoming a martyr entering nirvana and having eternal bliss later is suspect and stranger than fiction."

"Romanticists and Apologetics have so far the most sublime explanation on death. Poets, musicians, storytellers, theologians, and eschatologists have all exploited to tilt the true nature of death beyond its usual medical occurrence. The most common is its inevitability."

"Bible tells us, it strikes like a thief in the night without any warning yet coming when you least expect it. Surprise and very swift attack, you might say."

And as written "In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground for out of it you were taken; you are dust and to dust you shall return," explains further by an Oxford Annotated Bible in Gen. 3:19 showing man's struggle after The Fall to eke out his living from the same soil he was taken to which he will also return.

"That last bated breath a dying person holds on before surrendering it dying from Old Testament is the same breath Yahweh would now take back. From there releasing our souls ensues. What respect returning the compliment to God who breathed us life earlier."

"Thus far, death was already there from the dawn of creation. Like Yin-Yang theory, death is inseparable from life. Nothing in this world is surer than death and taxes, goes again from an earlier reminder. Encarta in its entry about the nature, debate, and psychology of death is even more emphatic providing some classic examples. There's 'The Death of a Merchant' and the story of Achilles' tragic end from an arrow Paris unleashed mortally wounding his heel and resulting in his death."

"As inevitable, it is also great leveler striking all excluding none regardless of race, color, creed, and persuasion. It's one institution if I may; whose relevance far outweighs all the rest there is including human life itself. The fact remains that life is only best appreciated when related to death. Celebration of life in the real sense of the word is what death is. Like a door, it closes upon its maturity but opens the other as a fulfillment of an entirely new life. Living, dying, and living again – these are life's inseparable whole gamut of human existence."

"Explainable. The crucial question is: Quo Vadis my soul? Would it end in the Upper super de lux chamber where perfect bliss and happiness is living alongside all other blessed equally sharing all there is in life with contentment? Or will it end in the Lower Orchestra where Satan and his fallen angels would have their day full welcoming you to their fold with an open heart – your most coveted prize for having successfully separated from God? If not, then don't fret yet. There is still a balcony available for as long as you first suffer until purified. Check out where you stand now. Have you ever kept the faith holding His Covenant when you say proudly 'I Do' to your wife back then? Are you not suffering identity crisis and Messianic complex?"

"Hearing this good news might be your last otherwise Welcome aboard! No matter how great your sins are practically peanuts compared to the love of God. Come follow Him, the Bible reminds us. Or as far as you can make it, make yourself living Gospel yourself."

. . . . . . . . . .

Undoubtedly, it was such a beautiful treatise on the subject, the reason that probably many are bracing for more. That Driarco observed with all the mourners have their eyes focused on him.

"By now, it should be clear in us that death is a celebration of life," he cleared pricking the conscience of the suspects and their accomplices who might be around showing their sympathy.

"So, did everybody get the message of St. Mark's right?" he asked postulating anew his application and clincher of the gospel. If you do, I believe you are left dumbfounded and stunned wondering what in the world our good friend St. Mark implies with his didactic message for today specifically, the warnings of hell," Fr. Driarco intoned in a vibrant baritone voice anew staring in a spur of a moment to the Mayor and his men occupying front pew.

"If your hearing is still functioning John Mark, Peter's disciple according to tradition explains in a rather hurting description the suffering one gets in hell, - worms feasting on our dead bodies giving us great favor making our day through Jesus' extended commandment and simile. It's indeed hurting alright. Even just by hearing it is already biting and incisive. Think of being roasted alive in hell! Common, who do you think You are? Seems You are not the God I used to know. The God of love who has been there providing the necessary lift for me, you might ask. Am I disoriented?" he's provocative probing on the good news just read.

"But first thing first. Let's put his message in its proper perspective," the young priest cleared.

"The annotations below the book say it all the 'little ones' referring to His followers and 'have salt in yourselves and be at peace with one another, in the end, implies peaceful maintenance of your distinct character and service. Now guess and I'll bet if you get what he means 'whoever'," he emphasized pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"That's crucial. It's you and me everybody else in this church in this municipality especially those causing His little ones to sin. Reflect, thank God and St. Mark. He might be addressing this message to you," Fr. Driarco emphasized pointing his fingers gradually down and lowering the tone of his voice staring eye to eye with some of his parishioners pausing longer on the Mayor.

"My golly this priest might be thinking that he could soften my heart with his sermon," the Mayor might have uttered thinking for the first time of staging a walkout from the church. But it seems, he felt helpless as he was caught in a fix. No other alternative but just to sit in there enjoying pretending to listen.

"Admit it. We're all His followers each one would rightly claim. Good grief. As already articulated, I would rather advise you to check who you are in the mirror. You're right, you're you as far as the reflection of the mirror is concerned. You might even claim you're above yourself probably a king, a demigod because you've got His image and likeness and goodness in you. But wait. Let's have a reality check here. Try scrapping off the silver lining behind the mirror and allow the people, 'the little ones, to see us through. If they see you what you were earlier before, good; but if they see you the complete reverse of your reflection earlier then bingo! It's time to refute St. Mark's gospel you being thrown into the depth of the sea with great millstone yet hanging by your neck, hands and foot cut off and worst, an eyeball plucked out from their sockets. It's better, he said to enter into a life or His Kingdom, if you wish, incomplete without such vital organs than be whole and only salted by unquenchable fire in hell. Again, St. Mark is addressing his message to us. He was by the way one of the gospel writers who wrote what he witnessed Jesus from his perspective. St. Matthew and Luke along with a collection of Jesus and several other special sources based on their Gospels from St. Mark. But you might not still be satisfied asking. Where are the good tidings there in Mark's shared by St. Paul in his twenty-one letters; acts of the apostles, records of the Church's history written roughly thirty years or so after the death and resurrection of Jesus, and last; God's disclosure of his will for the future in the book of Revelation, in a nutshell, forming the entire New testament. Yes. You're right. St. Mark happens to be dishing out halfway his message. The other dimension is the simile read in the end."

'Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another. In layman's terms, be a peacemaker. How could you be one? By being a crusader of peace yourself. We don't have to be religious to do the job. Just be yourself and let peace start within. We need not be like Scribes and Pharisees bragging around showing their belief instead of living and practicing it ourselves or we suffer an identity crisis. Let us not use religion in other words as a crutch to use when times come but by becoming living gospel ourselves."

"This time I hope we didn't get our good friend St. Mark wrong. Remember, no matter how great your sins are could be mere peanuts compare to the greatness of God's love. True, the hell is there too frightening but the message of love St. Mark preaches and the rest of His disciples later far outweighs its ugly heads. We should not allow closing our guards then or complacency and devil might overwhelm us," he continued.

"That we should remember. I'm sure one or two among you is advised by St. Mark. Acknowledge it. He is doing great favor and as he said don't allow the little ones to sin, the innocent people you exploited as an accomplice in maintaining whatever business you've got as a power broker in this world. Come and think of it. You've still got the choice - heaven or hell. You're opting for the first I'm sure. But show by being a peacemaker and crusader in this municipality," Fr. Driarco ended wondering whether the silence of the people indicated that he received a passing mark for his homily.

"The mayor's sensitivity should be pricked. He might not complain today but time would come when he would run out of gas and realizes that it's payback time," he quipped as he slightly glanced passing the Mayor and his wife Nimfa on his side on the front pew.

The Mayor's breathing become regular anew after Fr. Driarco completed his message and left the rostrum vowing not to make any slightest mistake occupying the front pew again next time.

. . . . . . . . . .

"The poor priest's sermon is making me sick," confided Baldo, his sidekick

by his side.

"What unassuming good father he is," he said griping.

"How could I afford to surrender my promising political career to them. That's political suicide!" he grumbled whispering in Bobo's ear.

"The hell of this priest. He'll have his day full a few days from now," Bobo heard the Mayor's impending threat. This he heard said while holy communion was in progress.

"The body of our Lord Jesus Christ," said Fr. Driarco to communicants who received the sacred host one after the other. When the Mayor's turn came, Driarco immediately abandoned his previous plan of depriving the Mayor of giving sacred host extending instead one to his palm as if saying 'you don't deserve eating His body.'

"You're making hell out of innocent people of this municipality. Forgive them for they don't know what they're doing," the echo however at the back of his mind seems to be reminding him. But they did know, that his subconscious complains creating two polarized ideas pricking constantly his brain. Lord make me a channel of your peace where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon Lord where there is doubt trust in you…," he whispered before sending away the Mass-goers with his final blessing.

"One day, peace will be yours Osigan," he challenged himself finding solace from the awakening the incident gave.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Just as how holy your name implies; peace would eventually be your Osigan. When? Time will tell," reminded Driarco rising from his usual visit to the Tabernacle after the celebration of the Holy Eucharist.

The rest of Sundays were spent briefing newly installed parish lay ministers of their services securing that all the chapels in faraway villages are reached and served. Vespers evening normally closes the activity of the day. Dropping to his bed after saying a prayer, he took his needed rest. Unlike however the previous nights, he felt light that evening probably having unloaded his thoughts and emotions receiving corresponding enlightenment from his initiative and inquisitiveness.

Soon, he snored his thoughts carrying him back away in time down memory lane surprisingly priesthood struck as the most likely vocation to be pursued. Not knowing that his batch was top-heavy in vocations sending many of his classmates to take Theology in other Colleges and Congregation. Amazing indeed that God works in many mysterious ways. But among his batch mates, many receiving calling from the Lord's vineyard, his journey was electric and full of life's ups and downs. But like the song by Steve Lawrence "The Best Thing that Ever Happened" fate was kind to him lifting him and allowing God to take control of his life. Yes, the road less traveled indeed proved to be his path. It was not easy though. The harder the road towards Calvary to travel, the better we become Christ-like, remembering again his bosom friend Father Louie writing him.

They both entered the Fishermen's Seminary after High School becoming loyal allies for the Lord all the way. Fr. Driaco completed his Bachelor's Degree in Theology. His vocation however led him to an unexpected detour in life wandering from a Parish Priest to a rebel priest brought about by circumstances beyond his control. Taklin on the other hand survived his schooling at Philippine Military Academy and was soon shoved into action required by his profession.

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