WITH THESE HANDS

(Original text of the homily I delivered on October 21, 2007 on the occasion of the ongoing national call to 2008 Stewardship Renewal.)

Good Afternoon,

I stand here before you today to talk about stewardship in general, ministries in particular, and it is such an honor not only to be asked to speak about very significant subjects, but also to be chosen to do so from among the many members of this parish.

My name is c - and if you have ever been to the 2nd English Mass on Sundays you may have seen me standing by the door at the lobby; I must have greeted you a good morning, I probably shook your hand, and I must have told you how nice it was to see you. At the end of the Mass I must have given you a bulletin, and I must have told you 'Have a nice weekend'.

And then you probably asked, 'Is that all you ushers do?'

Uh, well, there is more to ushering than meets your spiritual eye, and in-between the settings I mentioned is when the ushers are in full function. Lest you have forgotten, we come to hear Mass, too, and so while we listen to the Word of God, we also make sure that nobody crosses the velvet rope in the course of the Readings, and that no child under 10 goes to the bathroom unaccompanied by an adult. We take the kids to their Liturgy Class, and pick them up when it's over. At times we have to re-orient some people who have momentarily lost their sense of time and space. They come to us and ask, Where is the nursery? the gift shop? the office? What time do they open? Which days of the week? Is it the 2nd Sunday of the week yet? Why are you not observing standard time already?

Ushering, therefore, is a balancing act. Which is fine with me considering that Life itself is a big balancing act: it is not just the Home, it is also the Office; it is not just the Office, it is also the Ballpark; and it is not just the Ballpark, it is also the Church. And when we speak of Church, we do not confine ourselves to the four corners of the Sanctuary. Church exists outside, away from this complex - in hospital wards and prison cells, in nursing homes and exit houses. And so when you minister to the sick and the poor, the imprisoned and the infirm, in a way, you go to Church, too.

All of us must, by now, have received the stewardship kit from the mail. I got mine two weeks ago, and once more I was struck - as last year and in previous years - at how Fr. J addressed the parish. In his open letter appearing on the 2008 Book of Ministries, his salutation reads, 'Dear Christian Pilgrim'. How apt, I tell myself, because the stewardship is really a pilgrimage, a journey from indifference to involvement.

Here is the story of my pilgrimage.

One Sunday five years ago I was sitting on that 2nd row, 2nd pew, praying, contemplating on my sins, when this guy RS came to me and asked point blank, Would you like to be an usher? I didn't know him then, he didn't know me then, I'm sure he didn't know if I was competent to be anything, and in fact, he probably didn't even know if I could fully understand his question even if I happened to be attending an English Mass. I was so perplexed by his suddeness that I was not able to utter a word, while there was this big question mark written all over my face. Before I could say an emphatic No, he asked me to come with him to the Sacristy, and when we got there he opened this closet full of jackets in different sizes. He said calmly, Please, find your size.

That was when when something finally came out of my mouth. 'I haven't said yes to you yet', I muttered. R simply smiled and said, Of course you didn't say yes to me, but I'm sure you have your yes ready for Him. Or haven't you?

Before the Mass started that Sunday I found myself wearing an usher's jacket. And the Sunday after that. And the Sunday after that. And most Sundays after that. And believe me if I tell you, every Monday, I always look forward to the coming Sunday, in part, so I could wear that jacket and cheerfully carry its humble representations.

But if you think my pilgrimage happened in all of ten minutes, or from the moment R approached me to the moment I wore that jacket, you couldn't be more wrong. I had been with the parish for eight years, and that means my pilgrimage happened in three years, which was how long it took for me to realize there is more to Church - there is more to Mass - than sitting on that 2nd pew, 2nd row, every Sunday morning.

At this juncture, let me invite your recollection to the banners hanging outside that promote the stewardship. Below those words that say 'Thank God You're Here' is an illustration of two pairs of hands that portray the stewardship; the active, holding hand represents the steward's hand', the passive hand being held represents that of the beneficiary of the stweardship.

Everytime I looked at that drawing I was always reminded by an essay published in Georgia Review entitled 'A Thousand Buddhas' and written by Brenda Miller. Miss Miller was a therapist, and as we know, therapists main tools of their tade are their hands. And so it is but fitting that Ms. Miller decided to make human hands her central focus when she wrote that award-winning essay.

She says, and I quote: "The hand is shaped to touch the different parts of the world. We hurt, and the hand reaches to the chest. A newborn's head fits snugly into the center of the palm. Fertile soil runs through our fingers, or we mold our hands into a cup sealed for a drink of water. We can use our hands like primeval jaws to pluck whatever is ripe."

Ms. Miller's thesis is true and obvious: Our hands become what they do, and it is this very truth that made her hands branded as healer's hands by her patients and friends.

The stewardship and the ministries, then, are a great opportunity to shape your hands into what they may hold most dear or make an impression:

- you can be an usher and transform your hands into welcoming hands that represent an open and hospitable church;
- you can be a pastoral caregiver and turn your hands into reassuring hands that seem to tell an HIV patient, 'Hang in there for me, please, we'll get through this;
- you can be a bereavement supporter and turn you hands into comforting hands that seem to tell somebody who just lost a loved one, 'Life did not end, it simply changed;
- you can be a bellringer and turn your hands into angelic hands that lilt and inspire us with music that makes us think, 'This must be how it sounds like in the Kingdom of God';
- or you can write that check and transform your hands into heroic hands that know how to elevate the fates of the poor and the sick, the imprisoned and the infirm, into the dignity of human beings.

Altogether, we can pool our time, talent, and treasure, and transform our hands collectively into nothing less than the mighty Hands of Jesus. But are we willing to do it?

There is this story of a boy who asked a priest, Father, can you guess if the bird in my hand is dead or alive? The good priest answered, My son, I cannot, for the answer lies exclusively in your hand. Of course what the priest meant was this: if the boy squeezed his hand shut, the bird would have crushed or suffocated to death. If he opened his hand just a little, the bird would be able to breathe and live, even for a short while. But if he opened his palm wide, the bird would soar to freedom and be assured of a long life.

That story is our reality. Are we willing to see the stewardship soar to new heights, or are we going to watch it crushed into oblivion because of our indifference? What is true for the bird is true for the stewardship. After all, that bird is the stewardship, that boy is us.

The answer lies in our hands.