Time
and again, we hear stories of “miracles”: a statue of the Blessed Mother shedding
blood, a dancing Santo Niño, an image of the Sacred Heart that appeared on a wall,
incredible healing powers, and even apparition of the Blessed Mother to her
supposed visionaries.
As
in many rural areas in the Philippines, our barrio was not spared from the
occasional supernatural wonders that descended among us mortals. I remembered
Sadik who became an instant celebrity in our barrio, even before Facebook.
Sadik was a simple farm boy. He once helped us in preparing our rice paddies.
Nothing was really especial about him, until one day our barrio woke up with a wonder
boy who can diagnose and heal sick people. Sadik became a healer. He was able
to restore the health of many ill people. He received his power to heal from Christ,
so he claimed. For a time, Sadik gained followers, as his fame reached our
neighboring barrios. He and his followers distributed white handkerchief
believed to be potent talisman against any evil that would try to harm the
person in possession of it. In a monotonous and unexciting barrio like ours,
before the era of reality shows in a 24/7 cable TV, the story of Sadik provided
an entertainment, a kind of interlude. Soon his miraculous fetes failed, so was
his fame faded away, and so too our entertainment. We were backed to our simple
rural life.
Miracles
may entertain us for a time, but they are not enough to save us. Ours is a
faith sustained not by miracles but by the love of God made manifest through
the cross of Christ. It is this Cross that saved us, saves us, and will save
us. In the gospel (Lk 9:43-45), after Jesus’ transfiguration and deliverance of
an epileptic demoniac, He prophesied his impending suffering and death: The Son
of Man is going to be handed over into power of men. It came as reminder to his
disciples about the true mission of Christ. Though sadly, they failed to
understand the place of suffering in the framework of salvation. Miracles are
easier to understand. Wondrous marvels are great to behold. But who likes
suffering, more so death? Instinct says, avoid pain, it might lead you to your
death.
To be a Christian is to follow Christ not only
through his three years of healing and preaching ministries in Galilee and
regions of Israel, but more importantly in his last days in Jerusalem. Christianity is an invitation to enter our
own Jerusalems and embrace our own crosses. We are not to remain in Cana,
Samaria or in other comfortable place where water turns into wine, where bread
are multiplied. A great life awaits us in our Jerusalems.
Miracles
are not enough to bring us to heaven. It is only through the Cross of Christ,
present in our own crosses, that will save us.
Who
would still like to follow Christ in Jerusalem?
