Monday, 24 June 2024

In Loving Memory of Fr. Arun de Souza, SJ, My Sociology Professor at St. Xavier's College, Mumbai...


From my college days, fond memories remain,
Fr. Arun de Souza, SJ, what an exemplary Jesuit was he.
Through education, he forged his aim,
To touch the poor and fight the injustices that plagued society’s frame.
His passion for teaching burned ardent and bright,
With disciplines absolute and a drive for what’s right.
In his classroom, equality was the golden thread,
As he paid each student an attention impossible not to dread.
Stern in the look and voice low and deep,
Yet fair and kind, and in his watch, no student could sleep.
Behind that face, his wit would often arise,
And his uncanny smile indeed softened the hardest of eyes.
With a depth that made complex thoughts clear,
He taught with simplicity, earning respect and cheer.
His decorum was a model, his life a guide,
A fashion of virtue, difficult to hide.
Today, as the news of his death hits, I recall with a tear,
“Fr. Arun”, as he was popularly known, our professor dear.
His signature moustache, shirt tucked with pride, 
Saddle slippers on feet, and the cotton Jola by his side.
At St. Xavier’s College Mumbai, our paths first aligned,
Later learning him to be the College’s Rector made me satisfied.
From there he was made the BOM Jesuit Provincial, a rare story told,
With a gentle glow, I am certain, he led the Jesuit legacy bold.
It was then he wrote: “Rashmi, for meetings, to your city I’ll fly,
In Feb, I hope, our paths might cross by.”
How I wish our meeting had come to pass,
As I now wait to see him after this journey of life at last.

Sunday, 23 June 2024

A Birth to Celebrate God’s Intervention, Faithfulness, and Human Audacity: A Thought for the Day

Fernando, R. (2024, June 24). Daily Reflection of Creighton University's Online Ministries. Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/062424.html



 Reading 1, Isaiah 49:1-6
Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 139:1-3, 13-14, 14-15
Gospel, Luke 1:57-66, 80
Reading 2, Acts 13:22-26

A Birth to Celebrate God’s Intervention, Faithfulness, and Human Audacity

Today we celebrate the feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist. The gospel text of the day recounts a remarkable event interwoven with several themes: divine intervention, God’s faithfulness, and human audacity to challenge tradition for the sake of God. 

John’s birth is a moment of divine intervention because Elizabeth, once barren, is now a recipient of God’s lavish love. This event signifies not only a long-awaited birth of a child. But it also marks a profound shift in the divine narrative, setting the stage for the arrival of Jesus Christ. John’s life in the desert and the growth in spirit until his public appearance to Israel foreshadow his role as the forerunner of Christ, preparing the way for the Lord. This narrative invites us to reflect on our own potential and how God’s hand guides our paths, often preparing us for greater purposes.

Attached to the divine intervention is the dramatic demonstration of God’s faithfulness. Zechariah’s first words after regaining his speech are full of praises to God—an outpouring of gratitude and acknowledgment of God’s faithfulness. Zechariah’s journey from doubt to faith, and from silence to proclamation, symbolizes the transformative power of God’s promises fulfilled. Likewise, the communal celebration of John’s birth, as narrated in the gospel, underscores the collective acknowledgment of God’s continued faithfulness to humanity. It reminds us of the power of shared joy and the crucial role of community in recognizing and celebrating God’s faithfulness in our lives. It encourages us to trust in God’s plans and timing, even when they silence our doubts or are beyond our understanding. It challenges us to embrace the unexpected and to see God’s hand in both the miraculous and the mundane aspects of our lives.

Coupled with divine intervention and faithfulness is the audacity of human beings to challenge their own constructs. Elizabeth's declaration, "He is to be called John," disrupted the traditional expectations. The family and neighbors seem to have expected the child to be named after the father, following the patriarchal tradition of the time. However, Elizabeth’s insistence and Zechariah's affirmation upon naming the child against the tradition are significant. This moment not only marks the beginning of John’s distinct identity and mission. But it also highlights the immateriality of human constructs before the divine purpose. It teaches us the importance of discerning God’s direction, even when it goes against our conventional wisdom and societal expectations.

As we celebrate the feast of the birth of the ‘Desert’s Voice’, let us take some time today to recall the moments of God’s intervention and His unfathomable faithfulness in our lives. Let us also reflect on our audacity to challenge our own constructs, definitions, expectations, norms, rules, and traditions—not for the sake of being rebels in society, but as a way of witnessing God’s radical faithfulness, especially towards the poor, lowly, barren, outcast, and downtrodden in life. 

Friday, 24 May 2024

Rigidity Separates… Love Unites… Reflection for Friday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time

Fernando, R. (2024, May 24). Daily Reflection of Creighton University's Online Ministries. Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/052424.html

Rigidity Separates… Love Unites…

"[A] man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh" (Mk. 10:7-8). These words of Jesus are often echoed in wedding ceremonies, and over time, they have become my favored gospel passage for matrimonial unions as a priest. Within it, we discern two distinct relational dynamics intertwined with the covenant of love.

On one hand, there exists a path that leads away from love, stemming from the hardness of our hearts, as Jesus illuminates. To grasp the essence of this hardness, let us envisage two brittle bricks colliding. The more they clash, the more they splinter, their rigidity turning to dust. Now, contemplate two granite stones in a collision—producing resounding echoes and ominous sparks, with the harder prevailing while the weaker crumbles. Because our hearts, akin to these stones, are rigid, Jesus agrees that Moses instituted laws regulating divorce to mitigate the wreckage inflicted by such separations.

On the other hand, envision two marble stones colliding. Marbles possess the unique trait of polishing each other upon friction, rendering their surfaces lustrous and reflective. Through this process, they mirror one another, blurring the distinction between self and other. It is in this mutual reflection that Jesus envisions the transformation of two into one flesh, fostering enduring love. When that happens between two persons, one begins to see himself/herself in the other. Not only one sees oneself in the other, but one begins to see the other not as ‘the other’, but as oneself. It is when, as Jesus proposes, they become “no longer two but one flesh” (Mk. 10:8), leading to love that endures. 

Putting together, while hardness of heart breeds separation, a degree of malleability in our hearts fosters unity. The greater the moisture within, the more pliable, reflective, and enduring our capacity to love. Let us, therefore, strive to embody God's love within the sanctity of marriage, family, and our daily interactions, preserving the divine moisture without allowing it to be dry and hard.

Let us introspect:

  1. How calloused is my heart presently?
  2. What is the humidity level within the climate of my heart?
  3. To what extent am I committed to nurturing enduring love?
  4. What actions and adjustments can I undertake today to infuse greater love into my commitments?

Rigidity Separates… Love Unites… A Thought for the Day

Fernando, R. (2024, May 24). Daily Reflection of Creighton University's Online Ministries. Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/052424.html

Reading 1, James 5:9-12
Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 103:1-2, 3-4, 8-9, 11-12
Gospel, Mark 10:1-12

Rigidity Separates… Love Unites…

"[A] man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh" (Mk. 10:7-8). These words of Jesus are often echoed in wedding ceremonies, and over time, they have become my favored gospel passage for matrimonial unions as a priest. Within it, we discern two distinct relational dynamics intertwined with the covenant of love.

 

On one hand, there exists a path that leads away from love, stemming from the hardness of our hearts, as Jesus illuminates. To grasp the essence of this hardness, let us envisage two brittle bricks colliding. The more they clash, the more they splinter, their rigidity turning to dust. Now, contemplate two granite stones in a collision—producing resounding echoes and ominous sparks, with the harder prevailing while the weaker crumbles. Because our hearts, akin to these stones, are rigid, Jesus agrees that Moses instituted laws regulating divorce to mitigate the wreckage inflicted by such separations.

On the other hand, envision two marble stones colliding. Marbles possess the unique trait of polishing each other upon friction, rendering their surfaces lustrous and reflective. Through this process, they mirror one another, blurring the distinction between self and other. It is in this mutual reflection that Jesus envisions the transformation of two into one flesh, fostering enduring love. When that happens between two persons, one begins to see himself/herself in the other. Not only one sees oneself in the other, but one begins to see the other not as ‘the other’, but as oneself. It is when, as Jesus proposes, they become “no longer two but one flesh” (Mk. 10:8), leading to love that endures. 

Putting together, while hardness of heart breeds separation, a degree of malleability in our hearts fosters unity. The greater the moisture within, the more pliable, reflective, and enduring our capacity to love. Let us, therefore, strive to embody God's love within the sanctity of marriage, family, and our daily interactions, preserving the divine moisture without allowing it to be dry and hard.

Let us introspect:

  1. 1.     How calloused is my heart presently?
  2. 2.     What is the humidity level within the climate of my heart?
  3. 3.     To what extent am I committed to nurturing enduring love?
  4. 4.     What actions and adjustments can I undertake today to infuse greater love into my commitments?

Tuesday, 23 April 2024

Are You Among My Sheep? Reflection For Tuesday, April 23rd 2024...

Fernando, R. (2024, April 23). Daily Reflection of Creighton University's Online Ministries. Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/042324.html



Reading 1, Acts 11:19-26
Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 87:1-3, 4-5, 6-7
Gospel, John 10:22-30

Are You Among My Sheep?

As life often demonstrates, pending decisions can be distressing. The greater the significance of a decision, the more time one should devote to prayer, reflection, and discernment. The Ignatian tradition advocates it because it is during this period of suspense that one becomes acutely aware of their inner desires, disordered affections, and means to attain spiritual freedom, a concept St. Ignatius refers to as indifference. While this suspense is inevitable and, therefore, willingly embraced, it often becomes a period of dryness and a desert-like experience that induces anxiety. Whether awaiting news from a job interview, anticipating a pay increase, transfer, promotion, demotion, or dismissal, or awaiting judgment in court or a specialist's medical diagnosis report, the longer the wait, the more anxiety one undergoes.

A similar scenario is echoed in today's Gospel passage. As Jesus walked into the temple, the anxious Jews approached him: "How long will you keep us in suspense?" Understandably, their anxiety stemmed from the fact of not knowing who Jesus was, because without knowing who he was, they were not able to control the situation. Their anxiety to know Jesus, therefore, was caused by not only their prolonged suspense of not knowing who Jesus was but also their extended inability to exercise authority over him. Knowing it well, Jesus responded to them by bringing in three testimonies that they failed to believe in: His words ("I told you..."), his actions ("The works I do..."), and the authority with which he spoke and acted ("...in my Father's name..."). And the reason Jesus gives for their disbelief is rather astonishing: “…because you are not among my sheep”.

Reflecting on Jesus' use of the term ‘sheep’, I discern at least three interpretations relevant to our post-resurrection era. Firstly, Jesus is the good shepherd who calls and cares for his sheep as his own (“my sheep”). Secondly, he is not only the true shepherd, but he is also the sacrificial ram of the New Testament, sharing in the collective sheepfold of our humanity. In that profound solidarity, he abased himself to our level to become one among and like us (his fellow sheep), humbled himself at our feet, and endured betrayals, suffering, and a horrific slaughter at a stake so that we may be saved. Thirdly, he is truly the Lamb of God, the one who was not only crucified and killed but also resurrected among us, thus manifesting his unconditional and unfathomable love and loyalty not only to the Father but also to us, his beloved flock. His love and loyalty to his own sheep were so strong that he, before ascending back to the Father, made sure to entrust his authority to the Church, instructing, “Feed my sheep” (Jn. 21:17), thus affirming our collective responsibility to nurture and guide one another after him. 

As we contemplate today's readings, therefore, let us individually and collectively ask ourselves: Am I among Christ’s sheep today? Do my words and actions warrant Christ's ownership? What is the level of my love and loyalty to my fellow sheep within my own family, at the workplace, and in society? How responsibly do I exercise the authority vested on me in the Church, especially in caring for the lost sheep?