The phenomenon of Church people leaving or abandoning the Church has become a normal event in the life of the Church, particularly in developed countries as well as in developing nations. This crisis is nothing new to us today but somehow began in the early years of Christianity. The gospel of John affirmed this crisis: “… many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.” This provoked Jesus to confront the Twelve: “Do you also want to leave?”

Typhoon Carina and monsoon rains have both had an impact on the country in recent days. Metro Manila experienced the worst flooding in most places, resulting in damage to people’s lives, homes, and livelihoods. River water levels surged as a result of severe rainfall. Many people needed shelter, food, and clothing for the next few days. People are desperate for even the most basic essentials.

The 71-year old congregation to which I belong to, took a hit early 2023 when many of our members seceded in relation to a wider struggle of the church that is dividing the institution globally. Despite being relatively small in number, we decided to move on with new leadership and vowed to continue serving and worshipping as those who came before us did. In my view, this experience has broken an old “banga”, which was molded from the grounds by diverse communities of faith journeys and witnessing experiences.

Many people sleep during Sunday services. Many people find such behavior unacceptable. Many other people understand the reasons why many people sleep during Sunday services.

But Sunday’s lection on Jesus’s homecoming paints a different picture. His townmates ask, “Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” Mark’s ‘The carpenter from Nazareth, the son of Mary’ (read, bastard) was a hard sell. It was certainly a hard sell for the other Nazarenes; in the Lukan version of this story, they tried to throw Jesus off a cliff.

I love quiet times. Perhaps it is the best sign of my “coming of ageing”, or perhaps it is just the way I am loving that moment when I transitioned into 60 years. No fanfare, no special 60th party. I was alone. But it was not a lonely moment. If I am affected by comparisons to other people who have celebrated their 60th with fireworks and expensive staycations, I would have been the loneliest. One of my friends even told me, seriously, “You are like an outcast!” But sure enough it was the most intimate of my celebrations ever. In the quiet and stillness of that day, God’s love became real. It was a miracle. It was a healing moment.