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Friday, 26 June 2015 17:39

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Knock! And The Door…

Michael-Nguyen-SVD---150Now there was a woman who had been suffering from haemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well” (Matt 5: 25-28).

What a comforting saying for our lost souls since we are assured by heaven that if we pray, our prayer will be answered; if we search, we will find; and if we knock, the door will be opened. Oh, I love the woman who suffered with haemorrhages for twelve years (Mark 5: 25-34). She lived with the pain for 4,380 days. No physician was able to free her from the bondage of disease. She spent all she had for many treatments; unfortunately, she was still bleeding. But, she encountered a man who came from a small town, Nazareth (a town located in middle of nowhere during the first century). She knocked and the door opened. She stopped bleeding.

Indeed, many times I knock on the door while facing difficulties and challenges on my own journey of faith. And sometimes it takes only a short period of time for heaven to open the gate; and at other times, nothing happens; but still I stand by the door and keep knocking. Persistence and perseverance are the two virtues that I am talking about...

I stop my meditation, for I hear the sound as if someone is knocking on the door of my office. I look up. Guess what … I see him, a good friend of mine, standing by the door motionless.

He doesn’t look happy at all, I can tell…

“What is it? Why do you look so sad?” I am curious.

He sighs, a long and a deep sigh while dropping his body down on the chair as if he has run out of energy. He is quiet. I say nothing, but patiently wait for the moment. He eventually becomes calm. It takes a couple of minutes for him to share, a deep sharing. “Today,” he continues, “marks the first anniversary of my grandmother’s death. You remember?” He pauses, then continues, “I prayed for her recovery, but obviously God did not heed my prayer. I knocked, but the door did not open. I asked God for a miracle, but Nana still died. I asked for a fish, but a snake was what I was given. I asked for Nana’s healing, but her funeral was what I was granted.” His voice eventually becomes bitter. And he says, “I ask you to offer a mass intention to pray for her soul on her first anniversary of death.”

My turn for a deep sigh while remembering the funeral of which I was a presider last year. I still remember vividly the funeral day, an autumn day, many golden leaves left the branches and fell on the coffin’s lid during the burial service as if even the blue sky would like to bid farewell to the gentle lady. Time went very fast. One year already. “I’m sorry for what happened to your grandmother,” I offer my condolences again.
I take a deep breath to collect all the courage and the strength in my mind to move to the next step, “I’m sorry. How old was your grandmom? I forgot…”

“She was 84…”

“How long did she suffer with her cancer? I forgot…”

“She battled with the deadly disease for ten years…”

“Well, you know… Nana suffered with cancer; she passed away into heaven at the age of 84 years old. And you believe that God did not heed your prayer for your grandmom…”

He rolls his eyes at me, “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I am talking about … It is just like I turn to God praying for a sunny day when the local meteorologist already announces snowy weather for a whole week. That kind of prayer is not an authentic prayer… That kind of prayer is not fair to God. In such a case, I am not praying, but rather demanding of God. Actually I am playing God. I want to change the things I cannot change. I want the flowers to blossom in the hill in the middle of the winter. I want to see the azure blue sky throughout the year, 365 days. I want to become a millionaire when I don’t even bother to roll up my sleeves nor get my hands dirty. In such a case, I am praying to God, “Oh, please remove the cup from me, yet not your will but mine be done…’ ”

“The truth is we must pray for the strength to do what we are meant to do. We must pray for the courage to meet the challenges of life. We must pray for the endurance it will take to go on even when nothing changes (Joan Chittister, The Breath of the Soul, p. 25). And be ready to accept and embrace ‘the mysterious No’ as an answer from heaven.”

He stares at me again, responding in a cynical voice, “Thanks for your comforting speech.” But, obviously he appears to be more relaxed. He smiles eventually, saying, "Thanks...".