When the Pharisees heard that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them, a scholar of the law tested him by asking, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”
During the time of Jesus, pious Jews were trying to observe 613 different commandments. There were laws meant to preserve civility and morality in the community: Do not steal. Do not commit adultery. But there were also laws whose meanings, according to Jewish legend, defied even the wisdom of Solomon: Taking a red heifer, not wearing clothing of mixed wool and linen, and so on.
To ask which commandment was the greatest was to challenge one to a debate. Jesus short-circuited the impending argument not just by choosing two commandments but by identifying the point of all the 613 commandments: Loving God and neighbor. The other 611 existed only to support these two.
From a long list of laws, Jesus was able to isolate the two most important because he knew the point of all the commandments. In the laws we try to follow, in the traditions we try to uphold, in all the things that we spend our days and nights trying to accomplish, do we also see the point? Can we see what is truly important?
When I am invited to solemnize weddings, I usually issue a warning to the bride and groom as they prepare for their big day. I tell them, “You are going to fight. Sometimes it will be about major decisions like whether to live in the Philippines or go abroad. Sometimes it will be about minor details like what shade of white the invitation should be - beige, mother of pearl, ecru? But never forget the point of that big day: You are saying yes to one another.”
I once heard of how an old couple would celebrate their wedding anniversary. The husband had already passed away, but they were still a couple. On the commemoration of their big day, the wife would go to their favorite hamburger restaurant and order a simple burger. She would sit down and eat only half of the meal. The rest, she would wrap again and bring to the cemetery where her husband was buried. She would put her husband’s half on his tombstone and say, “O, ‘di ba favorite natin ‘yan?” Then she would talk about the years they had spent together and thank the Lord for them. As she reminisced, she would walk barefoot on the grass that covered her husband’s grave - the closest she could come in contact with him. That old couple gets the point of anniversaries. It’s not the expensive restaurant, it’s not the sparkling piece of jewelry, it’s not the reservation at that swanky hotel.
Recently, a couple and their two young kids hosted me and other friends for dinner. Around the table that night, we kept on falling off our seats not just because we were still adjusting to the weight added by the home-cooked kare-kare and crispy pata, but because of all the stories the wife was telling us about her husband. She recounted sitcom-worthy boo-boo after boo-boo and knee-slapping blunder after blunder that pointed to only one conclusion: To live with her husband was not a piece of cake (that was why we had something else for dessert)! But then, in the middle of all the hilarity, one of us asked her, “With all his mistakes, how can you still live with him?” She did not say a word. She just looked at him, and he looked at her. It was a loving gaze that told us they knew - and had - what was truly important. They could look beyond the mistakes because they got the point.
Do we get the point of things? Or do we get lost in the long list of things we want to do, things we have to do, and everything in between? What is the point? This week, it may be a profitable exercise to stop every now and then and ask, “Why am I doing what I am doing? Can I still see the point of all this?” Ask yourself as you read another page of your homework: What is the point? Ask yourself as you commute to work: What is the point? Ask yourself as you type in another Facebook status update, click to a different TV channel, pick up another piece of dirty laundry, or brush your teeth before going to sleep: What is the point? And do I still get it?
Fr. Francis was ordained in 2009 and served in the PGH until May 2011. He is currently taking further studies in Sacred Scripture. For feedback on this column, email tinigloyola@yahoo.com.