Pity the proud
The story is told about a man and a parrot seated side by side on a plane. The parrot orders whiskey, and the man does likewise. The parrot shouts at the stewardess and demands to know why there is no ice, and the man does likewise. After more displays of rude and proud behavior, the two were thrown out of the plane. While they were plunging down, the parrot tells the man: “For someone who can’t fly, you complain too much!”
In today’s Gospel (Mk. 9:30-37), Jesus teaches His disciples: “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” Like the disciples, we, too, argue a lot about who is the greatest, who is right, who is most holy. And like the disciples, we all need to learn so much more about humility. Yet all we need to learn is to be like a child again.
Listen to a proud person talking. After the initial admiration or amusement, you will soon experience boredom, and eventually, pity. Why? You quickly realize that the proud desperately need attention, affirmation, and self-worth. Pity the proud. They are so full of insecurities and fears.
Today is the Feast of Saint Padre Pio, the simple, prayerful Capuchin priest who took the road of hiddenness and humility, and is now one of the most popular modern-day saints. Padre Pio had no personal agenda save that of glorifying God in his life, work, and sufferings. Humility comes when we recognize and realize that there is someone greater than ourselves, and that we are just “dust in the wind.”
What is the difference between happiness and joy? Someone said that happiness depends on happenings (i.e., people, things, events around us) while joy is the fruit of a peaceful soul. I wish us all simple joy which the world cannot give or take away. And it all starts when we humbly acknowledge our need for, and dependence on, God.
I thought I knew what humble prayer was until I received a request from my octogenarian friend, Renato, that when his mind no longer functions, and as long as his heart still beats, this prayer be continuously repeated into his ear: “My Lord and my God, in You I trust; I love You, oh, how I love You. Have mercy on me, a most contrite sinner. Oh, have mercy!”
I just finished my chemo No. 2. Two more! (No, that sounds like “tumor.”) Two pa! (No, better to say two na lang!) Chemotherapy makes one weak, but “prayotherapy” makes one strong and positive.
One of the fruits of my cancer is getting to know Saint Ezekiel Moreno of Spain whose statue was brought to me by Maribi Garcia, of Bethesda Prayer Community and herself a cancer victor. Saint Ezekiel belonged to the Order of Augustinian Recollects (San Sebastian, my alma mater!), and was ordained in Intramuros in 1871. He worked in Calapan, Oriental Mindoro, in Palawan, in Santo Tomas, Batangas, and in Cavite, working among the poor and the sick for 15 years. He became a bishop in Colombia. He had cancer of the palate which also affected his throat, nose, ears and eyes. He is invoked as a special patron of cancer patients, and I have personally experienced his assuring presence and healing. His statue in our Mission Home has been observed sweating through the nose, eyes, forehead, ears and jaws. Saint Ezekiel Moreno, pray for us!
San Lorenzo Ruiz, pray for our country and our people! Saints Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, defend our country and our people!
A moment with the Lord:
Lord, remind us again about the futility and emptiness of being rude and proud. Amen.
