Fr. Duc’s Message Nov. 17

Dear Parishioners,

The movie Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge is the story of a man about to be hanged. Enemy
soldiers march him out to a bridge across Owl Creek. They take a board and place it so that half if it rests on the bridge and the other half extends over the edge of the bridge.

Then one of the soldiers stands on the half that rests on the bridge, and the condemned man is made to walk out and stand on the half that extends over the edge of the bridge. Next, the man’s hands and legs are tied, and a rope is dropped from the top of the bridge and put around the man’s neck.

When everything is ready, the commanding officer barks the order. The soldier steps off the
board and the condemned man plunges downward with the rope around his neck.

Then something strange happens. The rope breaks, and the man goes plummeting into the river far below. Down, down into the water he sinks. As he does, he’s aware that he’s alive and struggles to free his hands and feet. Miraculously, he manages to untie himself.

Realizing he has a second chance at life, the man begins to swim down the river. As he does, he passes a tree branch floating in the water. He is struck by the beauty of the leaves on the branch. He marvels at the intricate pattern of veins in the leaves. Then the man sees a spider spinning a web. He is struck by the beauty of the web and the tiny drops of water clinging to it like sparkling diamonds.

He feels the wetness of the water on his body. He looks up and sees the blue sky. Never has the world looked so beautiful to him. Suddenly the soldiers on the bridge begin to fire at the man. He fights his way through a hail of bullets, past a water snake, and over a waterfall.

Finally, he swims ashore totally exhausted. He drops to the sand and rolls over and over. He
looks up and sees a flower. He crawls over to it and smells it. Everything is so beautiful; it’s so great to be alive.

Then a bullet whistles through the trees, and he leaps to his feet and begins to run. He runs and runs until he comes to a house with a white fence around it. The gate swings open mysteriously. The man can’t believe his eyes. He is back home safe. He calls his wife’s name, and she comes running out of the house, arms outstretched to greet him.

Just as they embrace, the camera takes us back to Owl Creek Bridge. This time, we can’t believe our eyes. We see the body of the same man plunge downward with the rope around his neck. Then we see his body swinging back and forth, back and forth. The man is dead.

We are left stunned. All the effort, the running, the second chance were pure make-believe. The man had not escaped after all. He merely imagined that he had in the split second as he fell to his death.

He merely imagined that he had gotten a second chance at life — a life he suddenly saw in a
different way, a life he suddenly saw through new eyes. For the first time, the man saw the world for what it is — a beautiful place. For the first time, the man saw life for what it is— a precious gift to be shared with those we love. How differently the man would have lived his new life if he had really escaped and had really been given a second chance!

Today’s gospel invites us to reflect on the moment when we will meet Jesus at the end of our lives or at the end of the world — whichever comes first. It invites us to ask ourselves: How satisfied will we be at that moment with the quality of our life? Unlike the man in the story, we have a second chance to prepare for that hour — beginning right now.

What will we do with our second chance? Will we sincerely try to make an effort to love, as
Jesus did? Will we sincerely try to make an effort to serve, as Jesus did? This second chance is also the last chance, and it can end any moment.

In the Most Holy Trinity and in solidarity with you all,

Fr. Duc

Fr. Duc’s Message of the Week Nov. 10

Dear Parishioners,

Today’s Gospel consists of two parts. In the first part, Jesus severely condemns those who love appearances, are greedy for fame, high position, big profit, exploitation, and hypocrisy. In general, these are people who, in the fight for worldly interests, lose their moral conscience, thinking that they are powerful in the eyes of others, but in reality, they are just empty shells filled with rotten garbage.

In contrast to that image is the pitiful, emaciated body of a widow, symbolizing the bottom class of the social ladder. A widow was penniless and dependent on the mercy of others. If her late husband had property, it would belong to her son. If he was good, her life would be less miserable. If he was bad, she would suffer and be humiliated, because her children abandoned her. In the sea of people that stretched across the Temple grounds in Jerusalem during the days leading up to the Passover, the widow was just an insignificant speck of dust, at best ignored by the world, at worst avoided or pushed aside as a useless nuisance.

Yet that insignificant speck of dust was not ignored by Jesus. The rich man who put in a lot of money, Jesus knew. The widow who put in two copper coins, Jesus also knew. But the same act of putting money into the offering box evoked two completely opposite reactions from Jesus. The rich man put in money from his surplus, while the widow put in her life.

Last week we heard about the commandment to love God and love neighbor, have we ever truly dreamed of loving God with all our hearts? If so, the Lord also tells us, “You are not far from the Kingdom of God!” If we have never once in our lives desired to love God, but only when we fail or suffer do we run to God, then what kind of love is that?

Every Sunday, like those in the Temple of Jerusalem, each of us will also put money into the basket for the parish. No one knows how much each person puts in, except that person and God. I am sure that there will be one-dollar bills from widows each week, and those gifts make God happy and the parish grateful. I also hope that others do not give 

from their surplus but respectfully put in a part of their lives. You know and God knows.

In fact, the complete giving of the widow in the Gospel is also a symbol of God’s ultimate giving: giving away God’s identity to take on human form, giving away physical life on the cross so that each of us has the opportunity to receive eternal life. In the darkness of the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus’ sighs and sweat of blood were completely unanswered. On the cross, writhing in pain and humiliation, his sobs, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” were also unanswered. Jesus gave like that, completely and utterly. God calls each of us, and the widow challenges us, to give from the very depths of our own poverty.

If I feel | lack time, give the little time I have to God. If I lack money, give the little money I have in my hand. If I feel I have no talents, give God my slow mind, my clumsy hands, and my stuttering lips. God will take them and transform them as he multiplied the five loaves and two fish. If my hands are still holding on to what I have, I will not receive the graces that God pours down upon me, and what ! want to keep will sooner or later be lost beyond my reach. But for those with open hands and hearts, grace will flow endlessly.

If I feel emotionally deprived then I should try to listen to the feelings of the abandoned, the betrayed, or the lonely elderly waiting to die in nursing homes. If I feel alone and uncared for then should try to wipe away the tears of orphans, and contemplate a young widow who cares for her crippled child all her life. If I feel honorless then I should try to go to a beggar and share with him the little honor that remains.

When we perform each of these small but wonderful acts of giving, it is certain that God is saying to us,

“You give more than anyone else.” And furthermore, he will say, “The kingdom of God has come to you.” And the angels will sing, “Glory to God in the highest heaven. On earth peace to people of good will.” For when a person does this, God is coming down into their hearts, and from them God’s glory radiates to those around them.

In the Most Holy Trinity and in solidarity with you all,

Fr. Duc