the lector, ma. luisa
There is no need for a doctor or a nurse in heaven. There shall be no sickness and disease there. There is no need for an engineer or an architect or an interior designer in heaven. It is already beautiful up there. There is no need for a teacher, a professor or books and computers and everything else attached to the teaching profession. In heaven we will behold wisdom himself, the very fountain of knowledge. Only those involved in the liturgy down here will ever find employment up there for scripture says the liturgy, the worship of God’s holy people will continue up there albeit more beautiful and grand. And so when we die the rest of you will be unemployed probably sitting and beholding the face of God all day long, enjoying the benefits not even your SSS or your GSIS could provide, but we who are trained in the liturgy here below as ministers, choir, servers and lectors will have our hands full in the real heavenly liturgy we would never want to miss, serving and worshipping God for all eternity, surrounded with candles whose lights are never and can never be extinguished, enveloped with smoke from incense exuding perfume that can only be described as heavenly, amidst a singing that would make Chopin and Beethoven sound like nursery rhymes.
I would like to imagine Maria Luisa in the liturgy of heaven, bringing with her the holy book and opening its pages made of gold. And there she would at last make her sigh of relief as she would read without the air of anxiety that she might mispronounce a vowel or two, or the prying eyes of a celebrant and audience waiting to pounce at the slightest error in her inflections and stresses. There too, she would happily, expressively and forcefully read her piece knowing that she is not just reading the word of God, for there she would behold the Word himself, Jesus Christ our Lord. The “verdant pastures” that she read in Psalm 23 will become a reality. There the “thirst of the deer for running streams” will finally be quenched and the longing of the psalmist to “come to the end of my pilgrimage and enter the presence of God” will now be fulfilled. All the things she read in the holy book cease to become mere imagery that could at best be only imagined. It is now for real. Indeed she will find herself singing psalm 122, “I rejoiced that they said to me, Let us go to the house of Lord. At last our feet are standing at your gates, Jerusalem!” Ma. Luisa, you are standing today at the gates of Jerusalem, the Jerusalem of your dreams, the Jerusalem of our poetries, the Jerusalem of God.
Today we bury a lector, a reader of God’s holy word in the liturgy in the presence of God’s holy people. We commend her to God, the very author of the book she read and whose presence she made real every Sunday in this cathedral.
This lector, however, is not just and cannot remain but lector, for a person who reads the word of God every Sunday to the assembly cannot remain but a mere reader. She cannot just remain “a reader” of the word. She has to become “a doer” of the word. Not just a reader but a doer. She faced the challenged every lector and every Christian for that matter who listens to the word of God must face. She has to put God’s word in action.
I would like to think that that is the reason why Ma. Luisa joined the Ladies of Charity in the parish. A reader of God’s love cannot remain just a mere reader of that love. She has to be a doer of that love, making the love she read in scriptures a reality in the life of her poor brothers and sisters, in her life as a lady of charity. Mere “reading” without doing is treating God’s word as history, a sentiment arising from a different time, from a different people. But “doing” bridges time and thought, making God’s presence a reality in the here and now. And that, my dear friends, is the ministry of a lector. He or she makes God present in his word in the assembly of God’s people, making him tangible, making his will known, making him alive and his message relevant to his people. As I said, like the priest who must make the bread and wine the real body and blood of Christ, so the lector must make the books and letters she holds into the real presence of God speaking among his people today.
We would like to thank the family of Ma. Luisa - her husband, her children, and her grandchildren. Her ministry had deprived you somewhat of her beloved presence. Her work in the cathedral had separated you from time to time in those days when you have wanted her to be with you. She was here serving God. She was here serving dutifully the parish. Your lost was God’s gain. Thank you so much for not depriving us of her presence. Thank you for your generosity. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you Ma. Luisa. Thank you Lord for the life of your minister. Amen.
I would like to imagine Maria Luisa in the liturgy of heaven, bringing with her the holy book and opening its pages made of gold. And there she would at last make her sigh of relief as she would read without the air of anxiety that she might mispronounce a vowel or two, or the prying eyes of a celebrant and audience waiting to pounce at the slightest error in her inflections and stresses. There too, she would happily, expressively and forcefully read her piece knowing that she is not just reading the word of God, for there she would behold the Word himself, Jesus Christ our Lord. The “verdant pastures” that she read in Psalm 23 will become a reality. There the “thirst of the deer for running streams” will finally be quenched and the longing of the psalmist to “come to the end of my pilgrimage and enter the presence of God” will now be fulfilled. All the things she read in the holy book cease to become mere imagery that could at best be only imagined. It is now for real. Indeed she will find herself singing psalm 122, “I rejoiced that they said to me, Let us go to the house of Lord. At last our feet are standing at your gates, Jerusalem!” Ma. Luisa, you are standing today at the gates of Jerusalem, the Jerusalem of your dreams, the Jerusalem of our poetries, the Jerusalem of God.
Today we bury a lector, a reader of God’s holy word in the liturgy in the presence of God’s holy people. We commend her to God, the very author of the book she read and whose presence she made real every Sunday in this cathedral.
This lector, however, is not just and cannot remain but lector, for a person who reads the word of God every Sunday to the assembly cannot remain but a mere reader. She cannot just remain “a reader” of the word. She has to become “a doer” of the word. Not just a reader but a doer. She faced the challenged every lector and every Christian for that matter who listens to the word of God must face. She has to put God’s word in action.
I would like to think that that is the reason why Ma. Luisa joined the Ladies of Charity in the parish. A reader of God’s love cannot remain just a mere reader of that love. She has to be a doer of that love, making the love she read in scriptures a reality in the life of her poor brothers and sisters, in her life as a lady of charity. Mere “reading” without doing is treating God’s word as history, a sentiment arising from a different time, from a different people. But “doing” bridges time and thought, making God’s presence a reality in the here and now. And that, my dear friends, is the ministry of a lector. He or she makes God present in his word in the assembly of God’s people, making him tangible, making his will known, making him alive and his message relevant to his people. As I said, like the priest who must make the bread and wine the real body and blood of Christ, so the lector must make the books and letters she holds into the real presence of God speaking among his people today.
We would like to thank the family of Ma. Luisa - her husband, her children, and her grandchildren. Her ministry had deprived you somewhat of her beloved presence. Her work in the cathedral had separated you from time to time in those days when you have wanted her to be with you. She was here serving God. She was here serving dutifully the parish. Your lost was God’s gain. Thank you so much for not depriving us of her presence. Thank you for your generosity. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you Ma. Luisa. Thank you Lord for the life of your minister. Amen.
Comments