Category Archives: Croatia/Slovenia 2017

Friday of Week 26 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Baruch 1:15-22 | Psalm 78(79):1-5,8-9 | Luke 10:13-16

I was on a mission of sorts when we visited Mariya Bistrica in Croatia, composing a photo essay in my head. The lovely folks with whom I traveled will probably recognize all these images, but I hope even those who haven’t been to Mariya Bistrica will understand the underlying message.

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We have but brief moments in this world.

My wrist + watch, marking the date and time of my sojourn

What do we do with them?

Do we gather with heart and soul at the table of the Lord…

Worshipping inside the basilica

…or do we just admire its beauty from afar?

The altar at the Chapel of St. Peter, where we celebrated our daily mass

Do we lead others to Christ as his hands and feet on earth…

A young family on a day trip

…or do we leave him limbless?

A crucifix hanging outside the chapel, inexplicably missing hands and feet

Do we walk with the Lord daily, faithfully bearing our crosses as He did His…

15 Stations of the Cross, carved on a pole outside the basilica

…or do we leave Him hanging as we trot off in search of ease and sensuality?

“The Wall of Faith and Hope”

Do we support our neighbors in love…

Coffee, cookies, and chat

…or hamstring them out of jealousy or fear?

A memorial to those who lost their lives fighting oppression

Amidst the troubles that roil this world, our own ninth hour approaches…

“When the last watch is over, come for us, Our Blessed Mother!”

…and the bells toll for us.

The bell “tree” that supplants the tower in the basilica

Now is not the time to wash our hands of our fellow men…

Tableau: “Pilate Washes His Hands of Jesus”

…but to stand fast and hold on to the Cross of Love and Life.

Statue commemorating Pope John Paul II’s visit to Marija Bistrica

Amen.

Thursday of Week 26 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Nehemiah 8:1-12 | Psalm 18(19):8-11 | Luke 10:1-12

But whenever you enter a town and they do not make you welcome, go out into its streets and say, “We wipe off the very dust of your town that clings to our feet, and leave it with you. Yet be sure of this: the kingdom of God is very near.” I tell you, on that day it will not go as hard with Sodom as with that town. (Luke 10:10-12)

Yesterday, I beheld a youth who persisted in going the wrong way, despite a very clear warning sign: me.

I was riding the escalator up from my home MRT station, and when I neared the top, I saw him coming towards me, seemingly about to accomplish the impossible task of riding it down to the exit.

He was not physically distracted in any way that I could tell: no headphones in his ears, no “smartphone zombie”, no friend beside him to be distracted with. He was also looking directly at me, so there was no doubt in my mind that he knew this escalator was up-riding.

Yet, he continued to advance on my position.

I assumed that he’d soon recognize his mistake and divert to the staircase running alongside the escalator, so I alighted and made my way along the platform without a word, but something made me look back after a few steps.

The youth had actually stepped on the escalator, which counter-movement naturally made him fall forward. Fortunately, he grabbed the handrail in the nick of time, righted himself, and quietly started down the adjoining staircase.

I’ll always wonder what distracted him so much, that he nearly took a potentially-fatal tumble.

I’ll also remember to voice my warning next time.

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In today’s Gospel. Jesus sends seventy-two disciples out to preach the Good News to everyone. His edict: do good to those who listen to the words of love and life that you share, and shake off the very dust of those who don’t. He also promised dire consequences for the latter group.

We know all this very well as believers, but we also stray from time to time. Still, we’re not bereft of warning signs, especially from the people around us–friends, family, companions on life’s journey. I’m sure we’ve all known folks who just pester us with “check your passport”, “don’t get left behind”, “watch out for that lamp post”, ad nauseum.

We just choose to ignore them. After all, we know ourselves better than anyone, right?

During my Croatia trip, I shared with fellow pilgrims about my long journey into spiritual oblivion, which culminated during my college days in an airborne car accident that should’ve cost me my life. In hindsight, I chose to isolate myself from others during that period, thereby cutting off the opportunity to receive the critical warning signs that I was slipping into darkness.

Still, I couldn’t avoid all interaction, and of the few I let into my life, there were indeed those who were concerned and tried to reach out to me. One in particular stood out: Mary Schmidt, the music director at the college chapel whose ensemble I’d joined just a month after I’d arrived in Berkeley, was greatly worried about my slipping attendance, and made several attempts to counsel me before that fateful flying-car of a day.

She also welcomed me back when I’d finally gotten myself straightened out, and was one of the few people I greatly missed when I graduated and came home. Mary, I’m truly sorry that I lost touch with you, and if you’re reading this, know that I’ll always love you for being an anchor in my storm-tossed youth.

(And yes, I’m actually referring to more than one “Mary”. ?)

I truly believe that God always sends us warning signs and worried folks before we screw up, possibly for the last time. It’s up to us whether we want to heed them.

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I was walking a 10-km length of the Camino de Santiago during my Spain pilgrimage in 2015, when I happened upon a graffiti-defaced traffic sign that literally stopped me in my tracks. I’ve posted it before, but it bears a repeat viewing.

You can (barely) see that the inspired artist reworked the sign into the exhortation DON’T STOP NOW, for pilgrims at the end of their will and energy.

But the original message, the one that the authorities who erected that sign wanted to convey, is also significant:

STOP hiding from the Lord!

STOP taking others in your life for granted!

STOP ignoring the warning signs strewn across your path!

Is that enough warning for you?

Lord, open our eyes. Amen.

Monday of Week 25 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Ezra 1:1-6 | Psalm 125(126) | Luke 8:16-18

‘No one lights a lamp to cover it with a bowl or to put it under a bed. No, he puts it on a lamp-stand so that people may see the light when they come in.’ (Luke 8:16)

Our pilgrim group joined the locals for mass in Split yesterday, in place of our usual private celebration. We had no hope of understanding the celebrant’s homily, but we were nevertheless schooled by a couple of young kids.

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The celebrant was holding forth on his thoughts about the day’s liturgy, while I was nodding away and doing a fake translation from Croatian to English in my head. Something about how I shouldn’t be jealous about those who come to know God on their deathbed. I think that was it, but I can’t be sure…

…because a stunningly beautiful little girl made her way to the front of the church, and blew my mind (plus my homily contemplation). Stopping at the foot of the sanctuary, she turned around and beckoned to someone behind her, while beaming a carefree and heartwarming smile that lit up the entire church.

Taking a step at a time up to the sanctuary, she would pause, turn around and beckon again. Step, turn, smile, beckon.

No one present was looking at the homilist at this point, and no prizes for guessing who the homilist himself was looking at.

Soon, a handsome little boy approached the sanctuary too, whereupon the girl scampered off to a side altar, while her embarrassed father chased after her. The boy ascended to the sanctuary in turn, sat down at the foot of the processional cross, turned to the homilist and put on a pondering look.

I don’t think anyone present will forget this celebration for quite a while.

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Those two young children got right to the heart of today’s gospel. Unlike us mature adults, they didn’t believe in hiding their love for God and their neighbors.

Hurry up! Jesus is waiting!

Yes, Lord, You have my attention. Teach me Your ways.

Their love shone forth, and we all saw their light.

If I had the courage to truly act on my Christian faith, and wasn’t worried that I might be tagged as a pedophile, I would’ve gone up and given them both a hug full of love.

Perhaps, next time, I won’t be so reserved, though I’d have to be careful about how I express that love.

Hurry up! Jesus is waiting!

Amen.

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)
Isaiah 55:6-9 | Psalm 144(145):2-3,8-9,17-18 | Philippians 1:20-24,27 | Philippians 1:20-24,27

Of all the possible topics for table talk, death is one of the most unexpected.

Yet, at our meals in the Croatian resort towns of Makarska and Split, the end of our existence reared its ugly head in the midst of sun, sea and sand.

Over a Makarskan lunch of beef broth and pork chop, the table conversation abruptly turned on a question of euthanasia, of how to deal with loved ones who’d had enough of crippling pain, or even those who were no longer mentally able to care about anything.

And over a sumptuous dinner in the magnificent glow of the sun setting over the Adriatic Sea, one of our fellow pilgrims shared photos documenting her very bizarre insect-inflicted skin infection. Out of nowhere, the words, “if God wants me to go back home…”

It made me reflect on my own end of days, especially in the light of St. Paul’s admission to the Philippians that he too longed to return to the Lord. I seem to be of the same mind as St. Paul: deep down in my soul, I really long to see the face of God, but I know that there’s much here on earth that I can and should do in His name.

I guess there’s only one thing to do: Soldier on, doing what must be done in the name of Christ, but always be ready to release my grip on all things mortal, when He calls. Not looking forward to it, but not dreading it either.

Amen.

Friday of Week 24 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
1 Timothy 6:2-12 | Psalm 48(49):6-10,17-20 | Luke 8:1-3

Over the last two days, I’ve been privileged to interact with three workhorses.

The Boeing 777-300ER, a mainstay of long-haul flights:

The Bombardier Q400, a common sight on short domestic hops:

Fr. Paul Staes, devoted priest and occasional carrier of shopping bags:

I think the Lord is hinting that, just as St. Paul exhorts Timothy and companions in today’s reading, He wants me to be a workhorse too, doing His work quietly, without complaint or reservation, just keeping my nose to the grindstone of Love for Him and neighbor.

Hmmmm…