When man becomes a god

You have made him little less than the angels,
and crowned him with honor and glory.
You have given him rule over the works of your hands,
putting all things under his feet.(Ps. 8,6-7)

Such is the dignity of man. To him is entrusted the care of creation, the expression of God’s love. And this free act of God of choosing man to be the steward of all his works is consequent upon his (man’s) being fashioned after the divine image and likeness.

God is omniscient. Sharing in God’s goodness, man is thus gifted with knowledge so that he may be able to accomplish the holy task of stewardship over creation. Nevertheless, he is not given to eat of the Tree of Knowledge (Gen. 2,9). He may taste of the fruit of any of the trees in the garden except of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge in the middle (Cf.Gen 2,16). God does not let man eat of it by reason that it is the sort of fruit reserved only for God.

The knowledge which God gives man is more than adequate for him to carry out his task. Be that as it may, the prospect of becoming as God or as knowledgeable as he is (Cf. Gen. 3,6) intrigues him and appeals to him. But there is a sort of knowledge that only belongs to the economy of God. Now, man wants to cross the boundaries into the divine realm and mess with the affairs of God in the process. Quite unfortunately, he employs this knowledge not according to God’s designs but to his mere selfish follies.



With this sort of knowledge at his disposal, man, indeed, becomes a god . . yet without a heart, without compassion, without understanding, without respect for life – that singular gift of God. Yes, man as god loses the divine image and likeness.

It is very appalling how this godless god places his rule over the produce of God and puts life under his feet. Man tramples upon life as well as God's reproductive designs; life is reduced to a machine, a commodity, a toy on the hands of mindless minds and heartless hearts, a specimen on the laboratory table, a by-product of exploratory ventures, a mere deliverance of frail human choice.

O, when will man remember God and be truly man – again – and in prayerful admission, pronounce:

Truly you have formed my inmost being;
you knit me in my mother’s womb.
Nor was my frame unknown to you
when I was made in secret.
Your eyes have seen my actions;
in your book they are all written (Ps. 139,13.15a.16a) [?]

On Celebrating the Day of All the Saints

November 1.

We commemorate today the solemnity of all the saints declared as such by the Catholic Church. We believe that these men and women, who lived holy lives on earth, fulfilling what their Christian calling required of them, are now bona fide residents of heaven, the “place” where we all wish to find rest for ever. I wonder if you have ever thought about why we should be celebrating the feast of all the saints. Should we be doing this? From a certain vantage point, celebrating them seems pointless. Today, we praise them, we honor them, and we venerate them. But let us face it, we are not doing them any good. The honor we give them, our praises and our veneration add nothing to who they now are. They are in heaven, enjoying the ever-refreshing presence of the Trinity. What else or who else would they need? They have God, and God is everything! Nobody and nothing can take that away from them – ever again. So why this celebration then? For whom really is this feastday?

It is for us! Our celebration today does not serve the saints a bit, but it does serve us a great deal. All Saints’ Day is a reminder of who we are as Christians: that we are men and women baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Ours is the call to tread the road to holiness, the same road that all the saints have trodden. The saints have reached the finish line, and now the crown of glory is theirs. Venerating their memory, we get in touch with our desire to enjoy the same heavenly residency at the end of our earthly walk. Our hearts are inflamed, and we are arrested by a holy envy: when will I see the face of God? Our existence here below is not an easy walk, and reaching the end is extremely difficult. But the saints present themselves as proofs that it is possible. In fact, the testimonies of their lives of faith, hope and charity stand as the road marks, showing which way to go.

Foremost of the saints is the Blessed Virgin Mary. When I think of the saints now, the Blessed Mother included, I realize that they are not different from us. Aside from the fact that they are human beings like anyone of us, we and the saints share the same calling to holiness. What differentiates us is the response we give to that calling. The difference is in the listening. And that is crucial.

When the angel Gabriel announced to the Blessed Virgin about the plan of God, she was confused. Yes, she understood that she was being singled out among all the women on earth to carry the Savior in her womb, yet she did not understand how that could be possible since she had no husband. But she listened on to the angel. Her listening led to her fiat, and she henceforth conceived the Lord Jesus. Listening is nothing else than being open and receptive. It’s like the womb. If the womb does not receive, there is no giving birth. If the Blessed Mother did not listen to and receive the plan of God, she would not have conceived and given birth to the Savior. To listen then is also to be creative. It’s giving birth to what is good and beautiful. The “yes” of Mary “created” the Lord Jesus in her womb.

This has much to say about our journey on the road to holiness. Our journey is about constant listening to God. The saints are now where they are because they persisted in listening to the will of God. Listening is the key, and there is no other. Our celebration calls us to become like the womb of the Blessed Mother, receptive and creative. Let us be open so that we can, like the saints, conceive and birth forth acts of faith, hope and charity. These will obtain for us the glory that is heaven.

Being man (part 12, end)

Mark had the sincere desire to serve God as a priest. He did not see himself watching his days glide to history except as ministering to God’s people. As his friend, the least I could do was help him keep an unflinching hold on this desire, caution him about movements that could endanger or make loose his hold on that desire, that dream. I believe that man’s thrown-ness into the world becomes meaningful only when he finds happiness in being. And that in turn is sought only when he is what he purposes to be. The coming-to-be of that dream was, to my thought, only that that could redeem Mark from the possibility of a life without sense. From absurdity, Camus would say.

I felt the wind read my thoughts, for a shiver ran through me as I entertained them.

Until the time when the potentiality of being a priest was already an actuality, every day would be a struggle for Mark (as it would be even as a priest). A struggle to be or not to be. Only if Mark authentically is could he lay a firm grip on the dream. Still, a struggle, true to its sense, doesn’t always yield victory. When the passions strike, they strike hard. Sometimes (or many times?), no amount of determination could shame them away.

His question shook me from my thoughts. “Ken, do you believe I can be strong?”

With a smile, I answered reassuringly, “I believe you can, Mark. And if I believe so, you must believe you can. Strength and courage are a matter of the will. Will to be strong. Will to be courageous.”

“Thanks.” His smile was gratefully sincere.

I just got to hope my assurance would do him good.

For the moments that followed, we watched the stars reclaim their spaces in the firmament. The moon shone again with a romantic brightness. And I wondered whether the sun could rise, too, in the west.

My wonderings were disturbed by the sounds of hunger down my belly. My watch said, it’s way past ten. Just one more imagining before being famished.

“Bro, how about getting some dinner?”

“I’d like that.”

“Let’s go.”

The waves came running after us. (February, 1998)