As we begin the New Year, the Church honors the Blessed Virgin Mary as the Mother of God. We can learn from Mary some ways to begin the New Year right. In her life, Mary shows the
3 Rs which can be helpful in starting the New Year: Reflectiveness, Responsiveness, Readiness
Reflectiveness: Twice in his infancy narrative, Luke speaks of how Mary "treasured these things in her heart and pondered on them." Here, we see Mary reflecting on her experiences. She does not simply let them pass unnoticed, unexamined. She pauses to see how the Lord
has been moving in her life. It would certainly profit us to reflect on our experiences of the past year, and of our life so far and see how God has been moving in our life.
Responsiveness: Rather than being reactive, we may try to be more responsiveness this coming year. This means not just waiting for things to happen and react on them, oftentimes on impulse. With Mary' s example, we can be more pro-active and responsive to the events that unfold in our life.
Readiness: In the end, Mary submits to the will of God. She is ready to place herself at the disposal of God, confident in God's power to carry our his plans and to make use of the simple gift of Mary's self in realizing the grand plan to save mankind. We also pray that the coming year will find us ever more ready to do the will of God: "Be it done to me as you say."
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Advent Preparation Tips
When Advent comes, we are excited because the “Lord is coming.” And our prayer is “Come, Lord Jesus!” Our excitement inspires us to prepare our hearts and our lives for the coming of Jesus…whether in His “second coming” as the King of glory at the end of time or of our lives…or in His “third coming” as one like us in the person of our poor brothers and sisters, everyday of our lives. Perhaps we can do three things: reconciliation with God, reading the Bible, and reaching out to the poor.
Reconciliation with God
When we are expecting a visitor, we do house cleaning. How much more must we put our house, ie, our hearts and lives, if the one who is coming is the Lord Himself. He has given us the sacrament of reconciliation to cleanse us of our sins and give us the strength to triumph over the temptations hounding us each day.
Reading the Bible
When we are expecting a visitor, especially if he/she is one we have not met before, we want to know more about him/her. How much more should be we familiar with the guest if He is the Lord. We have the Holy Bible where we can read about who this coming one is. At least Chapters 1 and 2 of Matthew and Luke will be most helpful in this regard.
Reaching out to the Poor
In the Parable of the Last Judgment (Mt 25:3-46), the king says, “For I was hungry and you gave me food.” Hence, it is the Lord we are entertaining whenever we deal charitably with our hungry, naked, thirsty brothers and sisters. And there are many of them around us. Sharing our blessings with them is one sure way of making our Christmas joyful, because there is more joy in giving than in receiving.
“In his love He has filled us with joy
as we prepare to celebrate His birth,
so that when he comes, he may find us watching in prayer,
our hearts filled with wonder and praise.” (Advent Preface II)
Reconciliation with God
When we are expecting a visitor, we do house cleaning. How much more must we put our house, ie, our hearts and lives, if the one who is coming is the Lord Himself. He has given us the sacrament of reconciliation to cleanse us of our sins and give us the strength to triumph over the temptations hounding us each day.
Reading the Bible
When we are expecting a visitor, especially if he/she is one we have not met before, we want to know more about him/her. How much more should be we familiar with the guest if He is the Lord. We have the Holy Bible where we can read about who this coming one is. At least Chapters 1 and 2 of Matthew and Luke will be most helpful in this regard.
Reaching out to the Poor
In the Parable of the Last Judgment (Mt 25:3-46), the king says, “For I was hungry and you gave me food.” Hence, it is the Lord we are entertaining whenever we deal charitably with our hungry, naked, thirsty brothers and sisters. And there are many of them around us. Sharing our blessings with them is one sure way of making our Christmas joyful, because there is more joy in giving than in receiving.
“In his love He has filled us with joy
as we prepare to celebrate His birth,
so that when he comes, he may find us watching in prayer,
our hearts filled with wonder and praise.” (Advent Preface II)
On the "Misa de Gallo/ Simbanggabi" 2
MISA DE GALLO: GETTING READY FOR 'SIMBANG GABI'
MANILA, December 15, 2003
(MALAYA) By FRANCIS EARL A. CUETO
THE alarm clock is buzzing. Just as you have drifted merrily to sleep, the clock is telling you to get up as you have to start your day. But its 3 in the morning, and the sweet allure of your bed and the enchanting feel of your pillows are simply hard to resist. But then your senses start drumming up fast and the main reason why you had to wake up early had also started ringing in your mind: Simbang Gabi or Misa de Gallo.
While trying at best to stay awake amid the cool breeze and trying to listen to the Mass itself as it unfolds at so early in the morning, Simbang Gabi has become so much a part of our lives as it has been part of the Christian Family tradition.
Simbang Gabi was adopted from the Catholic Misa de Gallo, which literally means mass of the rooster, to indicate it is held at dawn when the rooster crows.
Dawn and Midnight Masses
Simbang Gabi lasts for nine consecutive days beginning December 16. Traditionally, it is held at dawn, but some parishes offer anticipated masses one night in advance. This religious event dates back to the time when Miguel Lopez de Legazpi celebrated the first feast of the Nativity in 1565 in the archipelago.
Simbang Gabi traces its roots in Mexico when, in 1587, Fray Diego de Soria, prior of the convent of San Agustin Acolman, petitioned the Pope for permission to hold Christmastide masses outdoors because the church could not accommodate the multitude that attended the dawn services. When the request was granted, the masses became known as Misa de Aguinaldo.
It was in the 16th century when Pope Sixtus V decreed that these pre-dawn masses be also held in the Philippines starting every December 16. The decree was in keeping with the nine-day traditional festivals of Filipinos in celebrating auspicious occasions like harvestime. It was also meant to give farmers a chance to hear mass before setting out for the fields. Rural Filipinos were used to starting the day two hours before sunrise. Church bells ring to call the faithful to Simbang Gabi. In some provinces, brass bands play traditional Chirstmas music and parish priests would go as far as knocking on the doors of every home.
After the nine-day Simbang Gabi follows the Misa de Gallo (Mass of the Rooster). This is held on midnight of December 24 to welcome the birth of the Saviour. In some churches, the panunuluyan, depicting Mary and Joseph's efforts to find a suitable birthplace, is reenacted and the baby Jesus first makes his appearance in the manger of the Belen, the Nativity Scene.
Simbang gabi is said to have started in the 18th century by a Spanish friar who intended it as a novena for a bountiful harvest the following year. The friar was said to have timed the Misa de Gallo to culminate with the Misa de Aguinaldo, or the midnight mass on Christmas Eve, which was then followed by the family's noche buena or midnight meal. The masses were set at dawn to accommodate the farmers who had to attend to their fields during the day. After the harvest proves bountiful, the dawn Masses became an annual tradition.
A Sacrifice for God
Fr. Lito Jopson from the Archdiocese of Manila, explains that Simbang Gabi celebrating Simbang gabi from another part of the world aside from the Philippines can prove to be very interesting as well as inspiring. "Imagine, even though it's freezing cold, Filipinos would still flock to their churches wearing barong while the women would put on their elegant ternos. One could feel nostalgia with choir singing Tagalog songs as "Pasko na Naman" and "Himig Pasko." After the mass, the parishioners are treated to a sumptuous Filipino dinner with the traditional puto, kutsinta, and bibingka to remind them of how wonderful it is to experience Christmas, the Filipino way," he said.
Reported by: Sol Jose Vanzi
© Copyright, 2003 by PHILIPPINE HEADLINE NEWS ONLINE
All rights reserved
http://www.newsflash.org/2003/05/sb/sb003180.htm
MANILA, December 15, 2003
(MALAYA) By FRANCIS EARL A. CUETO
THE alarm clock is buzzing. Just as you have drifted merrily to sleep, the clock is telling you to get up as you have to start your day. But its 3 in the morning, and the sweet allure of your bed and the enchanting feel of your pillows are simply hard to resist. But then your senses start drumming up fast and the main reason why you had to wake up early had also started ringing in your mind: Simbang Gabi or Misa de Gallo.
While trying at best to stay awake amid the cool breeze and trying to listen to the Mass itself as it unfolds at so early in the morning, Simbang Gabi has become so much a part of our lives as it has been part of the Christian Family tradition.
Simbang Gabi was adopted from the Catholic Misa de Gallo, which literally means mass of the rooster, to indicate it is held at dawn when the rooster crows.
Dawn and Midnight Masses
Simbang Gabi lasts for nine consecutive days beginning December 16. Traditionally, it is held at dawn, but some parishes offer anticipated masses one night in advance. This religious event dates back to the time when Miguel Lopez de Legazpi celebrated the first feast of the Nativity in 1565 in the archipelago.
Simbang Gabi traces its roots in Mexico when, in 1587, Fray Diego de Soria, prior of the convent of San Agustin Acolman, petitioned the Pope for permission to hold Christmastide masses outdoors because the church could not accommodate the multitude that attended the dawn services. When the request was granted, the masses became known as Misa de Aguinaldo.
It was in the 16th century when Pope Sixtus V decreed that these pre-dawn masses be also held in the Philippines starting every December 16. The decree was in keeping with the nine-day traditional festivals of Filipinos in celebrating auspicious occasions like harvestime. It was also meant to give farmers a chance to hear mass before setting out for the fields. Rural Filipinos were used to starting the day two hours before sunrise. Church bells ring to call the faithful to Simbang Gabi. In some provinces, brass bands play traditional Chirstmas music and parish priests would go as far as knocking on the doors of every home.
After the nine-day Simbang Gabi follows the Misa de Gallo (Mass of the Rooster). This is held on midnight of December 24 to welcome the birth of the Saviour. In some churches, the panunuluyan, depicting Mary and Joseph's efforts to find a suitable birthplace, is reenacted and the baby Jesus first makes his appearance in the manger of the Belen, the Nativity Scene.
Simbang gabi is said to have started in the 18th century by a Spanish friar who intended it as a novena for a bountiful harvest the following year. The friar was said to have timed the Misa de Gallo to culminate with the Misa de Aguinaldo, or the midnight mass on Christmas Eve, which was then followed by the family's noche buena or midnight meal. The masses were set at dawn to accommodate the farmers who had to attend to their fields during the day. After the harvest proves bountiful, the dawn Masses became an annual tradition.
A Sacrifice for God
Fr. Lito Jopson from the Archdiocese of Manila, explains that Simbang Gabi celebrating Simbang gabi from another part of the world aside from the Philippines can prove to be very interesting as well as inspiring. "Imagine, even though it's freezing cold, Filipinos would still flock to their churches wearing barong while the women would put on their elegant ternos. One could feel nostalgia with choir singing Tagalog songs as "Pasko na Naman" and "Himig Pasko." After the mass, the parishioners are treated to a sumptuous Filipino dinner with the traditional puto, kutsinta, and bibingka to remind them of how wonderful it is to experience Christmas, the Filipino way," he said.
Reported by: Sol Jose Vanzi
© Copyright, 2003 by PHILIPPINE HEADLINE NEWS ONLINE
All rights reserved
http://www.newsflash.org/2003/05/sb/sb003180.htm
On the "Misa de Gallo/ Simbang Gabi" 1
Misa de Gallo
by E.C. Dioko (December 18, 2004)
We attended the Misa de Gallo last Thursday at the Santo Tomas de Villanueva parish in Pardo, this city. As expected, the churchgoers overflowed into the open spaces around the church where in semi-darkness they solemnly took part in the eucharistic celebration. Some people brought their own seats so they went through the rites with little discomfort. But most of them had to stand throughout the one hour affair, an ordeal they seemed to gladly accept, anyway, perhaps conscious of its penitential value. Stacked closely together, it was natural to feel distressingly warm and indeed, without the usual "cold nose" of December some worshippers had to use their fans.
Hearing the mass outside the church, which was where we wanted to be to avoid the stuffy air inside, we really missed the cold touch of December. Misa de Gallo and the cold wings of dawn used to lend a Christmassy atmosphere to this early morning regimen. In the past one had the extra challenge of leaving the warmth of his bed and braving the cold kiss of the awakening day outside. But no more. Blame it on El Niño or whatever. Things are really not what they used to be.Nevertheless, the whole affair was still as solemn and as meaningful as before, and at the end of the celebration you came out with an inexplicable lilt in the heart, which reminded you of what a poet once said: "All's well…God's in his heaven, all is right with the world".
Why is it that on the first day of the Misa, almost the entire barangay go to church? We once asked this from our old folks aeons ago, and the answer was: In order to live a longer life. Whether this is true or not it's difficult to say. But who dares to doubt the wisdom of the old? Even if a person has traveled a long way in the thoroughfare of science and technology, the call of tradition remains - influencing consciously or unconsciously his reaction to events and circumstances.
In fact, the Misa de Gallo is itself the handiwork of tradition, a distinctly Filipino one. "Gallo" is a Spanish word for cock, so literally translated this is a "mass of the cock", meaning a mass celebrated at the time the cocks are crowing. It is said that during the Spanish era church authorities held masses very early in the morning to enable field workers to attend them. Later, when it was felt necessary to hold a nine-day novena in honor of Jesus' birth, the mass became part of the devotion. And since gift-giving is practiced during Christmas the Misa de Gallo later was called Misa de Aguinaldo. Attending it entails some sacrifices, and these are what the faithfuls offer to the Child Jesus as their gift to him.The beauty of the Misa is therefore the beauty of the act of sacrifice we offer to the Infant Child.
Since every eucharistic celebration is a reliving of Jesus' sacrifice in Calvary, there is therefore a convergence of suffering from both the Savior and the saved. Of course, whatever inconvenience we suffer as we attend the Misa is a mere speck of dust compared to the Lord's passion in the cross. But he invites us nevertheless to the great adventure of selflessness. His assurance: My yoke is easy and my burden is light.Suffering, no matter how seemingly small and insignificant, becomes a great gift if accepted in the name of the Lord. The snippets of heartaches we feel from day to day, as well as other sense experiences, in fact, if savored with full surrender to of the divine will, can make a thousand angels smile.
This is therefore the lesson we get by attending the Misa de Gallo: Christmas is not all picnic. Sure, we rejoice that a Savior became incarnate, lived with men, and in the Blessed Sacrament stays with them to show the way. But unless we drink the cup with him, Christmas joys are mere illusions.
http://www.thefreeman.com/opinion/story-20041218-25876.html
by E.C. Dioko (December 18, 2004)
We attended the Misa de Gallo last Thursday at the Santo Tomas de Villanueva parish in Pardo, this city. As expected, the churchgoers overflowed into the open spaces around the church where in semi-darkness they solemnly took part in the eucharistic celebration. Some people brought their own seats so they went through the rites with little discomfort. But most of them had to stand throughout the one hour affair, an ordeal they seemed to gladly accept, anyway, perhaps conscious of its penitential value. Stacked closely together, it was natural to feel distressingly warm and indeed, without the usual "cold nose" of December some worshippers had to use their fans.
Hearing the mass outside the church, which was where we wanted to be to avoid the stuffy air inside, we really missed the cold touch of December. Misa de Gallo and the cold wings of dawn used to lend a Christmassy atmosphere to this early morning regimen. In the past one had the extra challenge of leaving the warmth of his bed and braving the cold kiss of the awakening day outside. But no more. Blame it on El Niño or whatever. Things are really not what they used to be.Nevertheless, the whole affair was still as solemn and as meaningful as before, and at the end of the celebration you came out with an inexplicable lilt in the heart, which reminded you of what a poet once said: "All's well…God's in his heaven, all is right with the world".
Why is it that on the first day of the Misa, almost the entire barangay go to church? We once asked this from our old folks aeons ago, and the answer was: In order to live a longer life. Whether this is true or not it's difficult to say. But who dares to doubt the wisdom of the old? Even if a person has traveled a long way in the thoroughfare of science and technology, the call of tradition remains - influencing consciously or unconsciously his reaction to events and circumstances.
In fact, the Misa de Gallo is itself the handiwork of tradition, a distinctly Filipino one. "Gallo" is a Spanish word for cock, so literally translated this is a "mass of the cock", meaning a mass celebrated at the time the cocks are crowing. It is said that during the Spanish era church authorities held masses very early in the morning to enable field workers to attend them. Later, when it was felt necessary to hold a nine-day novena in honor of Jesus' birth, the mass became part of the devotion. And since gift-giving is practiced during Christmas the Misa de Gallo later was called Misa de Aguinaldo. Attending it entails some sacrifices, and these are what the faithfuls offer to the Child Jesus as their gift to him.The beauty of the Misa is therefore the beauty of the act of sacrifice we offer to the Infant Child.
Since every eucharistic celebration is a reliving of Jesus' sacrifice in Calvary, there is therefore a convergence of suffering from both the Savior and the saved. Of course, whatever inconvenience we suffer as we attend the Misa is a mere speck of dust compared to the Lord's passion in the cross. But he invites us nevertheless to the great adventure of selflessness. His assurance: My yoke is easy and my burden is light.Suffering, no matter how seemingly small and insignificant, becomes a great gift if accepted in the name of the Lord. The snippets of heartaches we feel from day to day, as well as other sense experiences, in fact, if savored with full surrender to of the divine will, can make a thousand angels smile.
This is therefore the lesson we get by attending the Misa de Gallo: Christmas is not all picnic. Sure, we rejoice that a Savior became incarnate, lived with men, and in the Blessed Sacrament stays with them to show the way. But unless we drink the cup with him, Christmas joys are mere illusions.
http://www.thefreeman.com/opinion/story-20041218-25876.html
Monday, October 03, 2005
little things...big love...great effect
last saturday, we celebrated the feast of st therese of lisieux or st. therese of the child jesus. as many of us know, she was a carmelite nun who died at age 24, but because she did the LITTLE/ ORDINARY THINGS that she was doing in the convent (like washing dishes, cooking food, watering the plans, scrubbing the floor etc) with a BIG/ EXTRAORDINARY LOVE, these had GREAT EFFECTS, because she offered them to God, especially for the missionaries. Hence, she is also the patroness of the missions. Her way is thus called "the little way."
LITTLE THINGS...BIG LOVE...GREAT EFFECT...
questions for reflection/ sharing:
- what are little things that i do everyday which i can offer to God for others?
- or am i able to do the ordinary things in everyday life with big love? if not, why not?
- do i trust that if i do little things with big love, these will have great effects?
please feel free to respond to these points and share your reflections...salamat and have a good week and month ahead of you...
october is rosary month...i encourage everyone to try to pray
the rosary daily this month...
LITTLE THINGS...BIG LOVE...GREAT EFFECT...
questions for reflection/ sharing:
- what are little things that i do everyday which i can offer to God for others?
- or am i able to do the ordinary things in everyday life with big love? if not, why not?
- do i trust that if i do little things with big love, these will have great effects?
please feel free to respond to these points and share your reflections...salamat and have a good week and month ahead of you...
october is rosary month...i encourage everyone to try to pray
the rosary daily this month...
Sunday, September 18, 2005
In Honor of INA
This weekend is the annual celebration in Bicolandia of the feast of INA, Our Lady of Penafrancia. Yesterday, I was invited to give a sharing about the Catholic view of Mary. In the same forum, a Muslim lady who teaches Muslim Religious Studies in Xavier University also gave a talk on the Muslim view of Mary. It was a very informative and enlightening experience for me. It was the first time I attended and talked in such forum. I considered my participation in the forum as my way of honoring Mary on her feastday as Patroness of the Bicol Region.
I shared with the group that for Catholics, but especially for Bicolanos, Mary, INA, is a home, a protector and a presence. In Visayan, puluy-anan, panalipdan, presensiya.
Mary as HOME/ PULUY-ANAN. When September comes, every Bicolano wants to be in Naga to join the festivities. Buses, planes, trains are fully booked as early as August. But even if Bicolanos can not be physically present in Naga, they bring Penafrancia with them where ever they are: in Manila, in Mindanao, in Canada, in Italy. Gathering together to pray and eat and chat at the same weekend that their fellow Bicolanos back in Naga are celebrating, they feel truly home. Bicol is home. Bicol equals Penafrancia. Penefancia is INA. INA is home.
And isn't Mary truly a home. For in her womb she gave shelter to the Word made flesh. She is the home of Jesus. When she pronounced her Yes! to the angel, she allowed herself to be home for Jesus (cf. Luke 1:26-38). In her body, the Son of God has found a home. In her heart, the sons and daugthers of God have also found a home.
Mary as PROTECTOR/ PANALIPDAN. History has it that the devotion to the Penafrancia grew and spread especially when Bicolanos were spared from the cholera plague in the 17th century. Bicol lies along the path of typhoons, but it has resiliently recovered from destructions brought by these natural disasters, thanks to the intercession of Mary. A town in Camarines Sur, Calabanga, is placed under the patronage of Mary as Our Lady of the Gate. It is said that when a big flood was about to enter the town, a lady stood the gate of the town and the town was spared from the flood. Many Bicolanos attest to the miraculous power of the image and mantle of Penafrancia. Indeed, Mary is protector, from calamities, disasters and sicknesses.
But isn't she truly a protector from what would otherwise hurt us? She came to the rescue of the wedding hosts in Cana when they ran out of wine. She told her Son the potentially embarrassing situation. Though his hour had not yet come, Jesus performed his very first miracle, thanks to the intercession of Mary (cf. Jn 2:1-11).
Mary as PRESENCE/ PRESENSIYA. May times, however, we feel that our prayers are left unanswered. It seems that Mary is powerless to obtain our needs. And rightly so, because Mary is just a human being like us. She is not God. She can only pray for us, pray with us. She can not perform the miracle herself. Jesus is the one who can perform the miracle. But even Jesus, God Himself seems powerless to stop the evils that afflict us. In these times, Mary does not leave us. In fact, she is even closer to us during these times. She is present to us during times of need, sickness, pains, problems, oftentimes quietly, silently.
And isn't that what she did at the foot of the cross? (cf. Jn 19:2-17). She could not stop the execution and crucifixion of Jesus. She could not lessen the physical pain of Jesus. But she was there. She was there present. She was there uniting herself with the suffering and death of Jesus. She is presence, quiet, silent, from beginning to the end.
Ina, Inay, Mama...Maria, Maryam, Mary is, for Bicolanos, for Filipinos, for Christians, for all who look up to Jesus: home, protector, presence: puluy-anan, panalipdan, presensiya.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of Mary to us. Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of your Mother, our Mother.
I shared with the group that for Catholics, but especially for Bicolanos, Mary, INA, is a home, a protector and a presence. In Visayan, puluy-anan, panalipdan, presensiya.
Mary as HOME/ PULUY-ANAN. When September comes, every Bicolano wants to be in Naga to join the festivities. Buses, planes, trains are fully booked as early as August. But even if Bicolanos can not be physically present in Naga, they bring Penafrancia with them where ever they are: in Manila, in Mindanao, in Canada, in Italy. Gathering together to pray and eat and chat at the same weekend that their fellow Bicolanos back in Naga are celebrating, they feel truly home. Bicol is home. Bicol equals Penafrancia. Penefancia is INA. INA is home.
And isn't Mary truly a home. For in her womb she gave shelter to the Word made flesh. She is the home of Jesus. When she pronounced her Yes! to the angel, she allowed herself to be home for Jesus (cf. Luke 1:26-38). In her body, the Son of God has found a home. In her heart, the sons and daugthers of God have also found a home.
Mary as PROTECTOR/ PANALIPDAN. History has it that the devotion to the Penafrancia grew and spread especially when Bicolanos were spared from the cholera plague in the 17th century. Bicol lies along the path of typhoons, but it has resiliently recovered from destructions brought by these natural disasters, thanks to the intercession of Mary. A town in Camarines Sur, Calabanga, is placed under the patronage of Mary as Our Lady of the Gate. It is said that when a big flood was about to enter the town, a lady stood the gate of the town and the town was spared from the flood. Many Bicolanos attest to the miraculous power of the image and mantle of Penafrancia. Indeed, Mary is protector, from calamities, disasters and sicknesses.
But isn't she truly a protector from what would otherwise hurt us? She came to the rescue of the wedding hosts in Cana when they ran out of wine. She told her Son the potentially embarrassing situation. Though his hour had not yet come, Jesus performed his very first miracle, thanks to the intercession of Mary (cf. Jn 2:1-11).
Mary as PRESENCE/ PRESENSIYA. May times, however, we feel that our prayers are left unanswered. It seems that Mary is powerless to obtain our needs. And rightly so, because Mary is just a human being like us. She is not God. She can only pray for us, pray with us. She can not perform the miracle herself. Jesus is the one who can perform the miracle. But even Jesus, God Himself seems powerless to stop the evils that afflict us. In these times, Mary does not leave us. In fact, she is even closer to us during these times. She is present to us during times of need, sickness, pains, problems, oftentimes quietly, silently.
And isn't that what she did at the foot of the cross? (cf. Jn 19:2-17). She could not stop the execution and crucifixion of Jesus. She could not lessen the physical pain of Jesus. But she was there. She was there present. She was there uniting herself with the suffering and death of Jesus. She is presence, quiet, silent, from beginning to the end.
Ina, Inay, Mama...Maria, Maryam, Mary is, for Bicolanos, for Filipinos, for Christians, for all who look up to Jesus: home, protector, presence: puluy-anan, panalipdan, presensiya.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of Mary to us. Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of your Mother, our Mother.
Beware of Envy!
Today's Gospel: Matthew 20:1-16: "Or are you envious because I am generous?" This is the landowner's question to those who received the just pay but complained that the owner paid those who worked only for a brief period of time the same amount given to them. Looks unfair but it is not, because the Master deals with his workers not based on strict justice, but on generous mercy and love.
Envy seems a natural reaction especially when we notice other people having more than what we have. What could we do when we feel the beginnings of envy in our hearts so that we can guard ourselves from it and prevent it from growing into a "green-eyed monster doth mock the meat it feeds on?"
May I suggest three things:
1. Focus on WHAT YOU HAVE: We are usually envious of the things we do not have. We are not contented with what we already have. Although we can actually live with what we have, we tend to want more. We want even those things we don't need. Perhaps it would help to focus on what we have rather than on what we do not have.
2. Focus on WHO YOU ARE: We are usually envious of other people's status or standing because perhaps we are not as famous or popular as they are. We are not contented with who we are: our basic and fundamental identity is that we are children of God. We are not just hired hands, we are children of God, and that should more than enough for us.
3. Focus on WHO GOD IS: THE GIVER: Nevertheless, focusing just on what we have and who we are is not enough, for oftentimes, we do not have anything or we are truly nobody in society. Hence, our ultimate focus must be God Himself, the Giver. He is and must be the source of the meaning of our life: our most precious possession. And our relationship with Him is what defines who we are.
With St Ignatius we pray, "Give me only your love and your grace. And I will ask for nothing more."
Envy seems a natural reaction especially when we notice other people having more than what we have. What could we do when we feel the beginnings of envy in our hearts so that we can guard ourselves from it and prevent it from growing into a "green-eyed monster doth mock the meat it feeds on?"
May I suggest three things:
1. Focus on WHAT YOU HAVE: We are usually envious of the things we do not have. We are not contented with what we already have. Although we can actually live with what we have, we tend to want more. We want even those things we don't need. Perhaps it would help to focus on what we have rather than on what we do not have.
2. Focus on WHO YOU ARE: We are usually envious of other people's status or standing because perhaps we are not as famous or popular as they are. We are not contented with who we are: our basic and fundamental identity is that we are children of God. We are not just hired hands, we are children of God, and that should more than enough for us.
3. Focus on WHO GOD IS: THE GIVER: Nevertheless, focusing just on what we have and who we are is not enough, for oftentimes, we do not have anything or we are truly nobody in society. Hence, our ultimate focus must be God Himself, the Giver. He is and must be the source of the meaning of our life: our most precious possession. And our relationship with Him is what defines who we are.
With St Ignatius we pray, "Give me only your love and your grace. And I will ask for nothing more."
Thursday, July 28, 2005
True Treasure
The Parables of the Hidden Treasure and of the Pearl of Great Price were read in Masses last Sunday and yesterday. Both parables invite us to reflect on these questions: "What are our treasures in life? Are these treasures for real?" I proposed to the congregation that the characteristics of true treasures are: invisibility, innumerability and immortality. Earthly treasures, while important, do not meet these criteria. But generosity, kindness and love do. May we, then, invest our time and talent and in seeking these treasures. In the process, we hope to find the only one true treasure, Christ Himself. Have a good day!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
To Be A Priest: To Be Placed With The Son
May 2005
When I was about to begin the retreat prior to my priestly ordination, I had a feeling that it was going to be a different retreat. I was just less than 60 days away from the moment when Bishop Claver would lay his hand on my head and anoint my palms with the sacred chrism, making me a priest forever. Each day I came closer to my ordination, my desire for the priesthood burnt ever more ardently, as I felt myself drawn more and more closely to a mystery much bigger and greater than myself. And I thought that this retreat will prepare me for what Thomas Merton called “the perfect meeting with God’s inscrutable will.”
I started the retreat praying, although without much feeling at the moment, Ignatius’ prayer to Our Lady, “Place me with your Son.” This, according to Fr. Arevalo, our professor in Holy Orders course and veteran director of pre-ordination retreats, is the priestly prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola. He says that it is, and must be the prayer of every ordinand, for to be a priest is to be placed with the Son. When I did the contemplations which were to be concluded with the triple colloquys: to Our Lady, to Christ and to the Father, I started to mean what I was saying. But it was not until I prayed over the Baptism of Jesus that I understood what I was asking for.
In the Baptism of Jesus, of course, as the Spirit hovered over Jesus in the form of a dove, a voice from the heavens was heard declaring, “This is my Beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” Jesus asked to be baptized in obedience to the Father’s will and in solidarity with sinners. When Jesus approached to receive John’s baptism of repentance, the latter protested saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?" Jesus said to him in reply, "Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness" (Mt. 3:14-15). Thus is He proclaimed by the Father as His beloved Son and given the fullness of the Spirit. In His obedience and solidarity, Jesus is claimed by the Father as His Son, the Son of God. Similarly, in Marks’s gospel, Jesus is fully revealed as the Son of God in the statement by the Roman centurion as He hung dead on the cross - in obedience to the Father’s will and in solidarity with sinners.
If, for the New Testament, Christ is the one and only priest, then His priesthood consists in these two elements: obedience to the Father’s will and solidarity with sinners (Heb. 4:14-15; 5:8). His obedience to the Father is the manifestation of His total union with the Him. Thus He says, “I came not seeking my own will but the will of Him who sent me.” And it is because He is in total union with the Father that He is in full solidarity with sinners. If a priest is to be configured to Christ by his ordination, then he must grow in this intimate union with the Father and in solidarity with humanity. If priesthood is to be placed with the Son, it is to be placed with the Son who is totally united to the Father and fully united with each human being.
This was how my pre-ordination retreat prepared me to receive the sacrament of Holy Orders. It gave me a clearer understanding of a priestly prayer that I often mumbled without fully realizing what I was begging the Lord for. It also deepened my desire to cultivate a more intimate relationship with God, the source of my identity as a priest placed with the Son, and a desire to develop a more personal relationship with the people I am tasked to minister to. I bring to my priesthood a deep conviction that these two elements are the essentials of a priesthood that reflects the ministry of Jesus, the Son, the Good Shepherd.
It has been three months now since my ordination, I have presided over eighty Eucharistic celebrations, baptized more a hundred of babies, heard many confessions and anointed a couple of sick people, and officiated in four weddings. However, I could not claim that I have become totally united to God and have attained full solidarity with humanity after a couple of months as priest. But this much I can say: that the opportunity, or perhaps more precisely, the privilege, of being able to mediate the Lord’s forgiving and healing love, and to gather His people around the table of His nourishing real presence, increases my desire to be that worthy channel of His grace to His people.
I still find myself struggling with the same temptations besetting me prior to my ordination. The attraction to capitulate to these temptations remain just as strong. It is as if the evil spirit has doubled its efforts to win me over and that he has devised more devious and subtle strategies to cause me to fall into the trap. Perhaps it makes sense to think that while the Lord Jesus was hanging on the cross, the temptation to give up and give in to easy way out of the cross was even stonger, more than ever. Yet precisely because He chose to submit to the unfathomable will of the Father that He overcame the temptation. Thus was He acknowledged as the Son of God.
Similarly, I suppose, in a priest’s life, when he finds himself torn between the appetites of his lower nature and the desires of his higher calling, and he chooses to obey as Jesus did, then the priests experiences real union with Christ and is acknowledged also as a son of God. But I believe, too, that even if a priest fails and falls, the Father will still accept him as his son, for the Father is the merciful father in the Luke’s parable of the father and his two sons. Let this experience of his sinfulness even in his priesthood be an entry point to a deeper solidarity with his fellow human beings, fellow sinners. Hence, it is with sincere humility and gratitude that I pronounce the following words from the Eucharistic prayer: “We thank you for counting us worthy to stand in your presence and serve you.”
Let me not forget to say that Ignatius’ prayer was made not to the Father, but to the Blessed Mother. Of course, it is the Father who ultimately granted Ignatius’s prayer as in that landmark vision in the small chapel of La Storta on his way to Rome. But it was through the intercession of the Blessed Mother that his desire was fulfilled. I have heard many times over that the Blessed Mother plays a significant role in the lives of priests, especially in the months before ordination. But I did not appreciate this claim until I myself experienced it in my pre-ordination retreat and yes, even until now, already a couple of months into my priesthood.
Thank you, Lord Jesus Christ, for making me your priest. Thank you, Blessed Mother, for placing me with your Son.
When I was about to begin the retreat prior to my priestly ordination, I had a feeling that it was going to be a different retreat. I was just less than 60 days away from the moment when Bishop Claver would lay his hand on my head and anoint my palms with the sacred chrism, making me a priest forever. Each day I came closer to my ordination, my desire for the priesthood burnt ever more ardently, as I felt myself drawn more and more closely to a mystery much bigger and greater than myself. And I thought that this retreat will prepare me for what Thomas Merton called “the perfect meeting with God’s inscrutable will.”
I started the retreat praying, although without much feeling at the moment, Ignatius’ prayer to Our Lady, “Place me with your Son.” This, according to Fr. Arevalo, our professor in Holy Orders course and veteran director of pre-ordination retreats, is the priestly prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola. He says that it is, and must be the prayer of every ordinand, for to be a priest is to be placed with the Son. When I did the contemplations which were to be concluded with the triple colloquys: to Our Lady, to Christ and to the Father, I started to mean what I was saying. But it was not until I prayed over the Baptism of Jesus that I understood what I was asking for.
In the Baptism of Jesus, of course, as the Spirit hovered over Jesus in the form of a dove, a voice from the heavens was heard declaring, “This is my Beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” Jesus asked to be baptized in obedience to the Father’s will and in solidarity with sinners. When Jesus approached to receive John’s baptism of repentance, the latter protested saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?" Jesus said to him in reply, "Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness" (Mt. 3:14-15). Thus is He proclaimed by the Father as His beloved Son and given the fullness of the Spirit. In His obedience and solidarity, Jesus is claimed by the Father as His Son, the Son of God. Similarly, in Marks’s gospel, Jesus is fully revealed as the Son of God in the statement by the Roman centurion as He hung dead on the cross - in obedience to the Father’s will and in solidarity with sinners.
If, for the New Testament, Christ is the one and only priest, then His priesthood consists in these two elements: obedience to the Father’s will and solidarity with sinners (Heb. 4:14-15; 5:8). His obedience to the Father is the manifestation of His total union with the Him. Thus He says, “I came not seeking my own will but the will of Him who sent me.” And it is because He is in total union with the Father that He is in full solidarity with sinners. If a priest is to be configured to Christ by his ordination, then he must grow in this intimate union with the Father and in solidarity with humanity. If priesthood is to be placed with the Son, it is to be placed with the Son who is totally united to the Father and fully united with each human being.
This was how my pre-ordination retreat prepared me to receive the sacrament of Holy Orders. It gave me a clearer understanding of a priestly prayer that I often mumbled without fully realizing what I was begging the Lord for. It also deepened my desire to cultivate a more intimate relationship with God, the source of my identity as a priest placed with the Son, and a desire to develop a more personal relationship with the people I am tasked to minister to. I bring to my priesthood a deep conviction that these two elements are the essentials of a priesthood that reflects the ministry of Jesus, the Son, the Good Shepherd.
It has been three months now since my ordination, I have presided over eighty Eucharistic celebrations, baptized more a hundred of babies, heard many confessions and anointed a couple of sick people, and officiated in four weddings. However, I could not claim that I have become totally united to God and have attained full solidarity with humanity after a couple of months as priest. But this much I can say: that the opportunity, or perhaps more precisely, the privilege, of being able to mediate the Lord’s forgiving and healing love, and to gather His people around the table of His nourishing real presence, increases my desire to be that worthy channel of His grace to His people.
I still find myself struggling with the same temptations besetting me prior to my ordination. The attraction to capitulate to these temptations remain just as strong. It is as if the evil spirit has doubled its efforts to win me over and that he has devised more devious and subtle strategies to cause me to fall into the trap. Perhaps it makes sense to think that while the Lord Jesus was hanging on the cross, the temptation to give up and give in to easy way out of the cross was even stonger, more than ever. Yet precisely because He chose to submit to the unfathomable will of the Father that He overcame the temptation. Thus was He acknowledged as the Son of God.
Similarly, I suppose, in a priest’s life, when he finds himself torn between the appetites of his lower nature and the desires of his higher calling, and he chooses to obey as Jesus did, then the priests experiences real union with Christ and is acknowledged also as a son of God. But I believe, too, that even if a priest fails and falls, the Father will still accept him as his son, for the Father is the merciful father in the Luke’s parable of the father and his two sons. Let this experience of his sinfulness even in his priesthood be an entry point to a deeper solidarity with his fellow human beings, fellow sinners. Hence, it is with sincere humility and gratitude that I pronounce the following words from the Eucharistic prayer: “We thank you for counting us worthy to stand in your presence and serve you.”
Let me not forget to say that Ignatius’ prayer was made not to the Father, but to the Blessed Mother. Of course, it is the Father who ultimately granted Ignatius’s prayer as in that landmark vision in the small chapel of La Storta on his way to Rome. But it was through the intercession of the Blessed Mother that his desire was fulfilled. I have heard many times over that the Blessed Mother plays a significant role in the lives of priests, especially in the months before ordination. But I did not appreciate this claim until I myself experienced it in my pre-ordination retreat and yes, even until now, already a couple of months into my priesthood.
Thank you, Lord Jesus Christ, for making me your priest. Thank you, Blessed Mother, for placing me with your Son.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
The Chapters of My Journey to the Priestly Ordination
May 2005
Very often, newly ordained priests are asked: “How does it feel? How did you manage to survive?” These questions make one think that ordination is like an awarding ceremony of a marathon that one has just finished. Or that formation is an amazing race-type of contest in which the winner brings home a cash prize, but also the cuts and the bruises he sustained along the way. But ordination is not like any of these. It is not a prize for the winners or a booty for the survivors. Rather, it is a gift, purely undeserved, given perhaps to the most unworthy of people, like me.
I have been trying to figure out a starting point in narrating my story, and I thought I could start with May 30, 1994, when I entered the Jesuit novitiate in Novaliches, Quezon City. I was merely a youth of 18 years old then, brought to the doors of the novitiate by a sincere desire to offer my life to the service of the Christ and the Church. Or was it simply to be a Jesuit in the mold of my Jesuit idols back in Ateneo de Naga: Frs. Jack Phelan, Frank Dolan, Johnny Sanz, and Rolly Bonoan? Immediately as the steel doors of the novitiate were shut, so strong as if to emphasize the burning of bridges between the novitiate and the world that outside of it, the journey to my ordination day began.
I could write an entire book just describing the details of that journey. But simply put, it was a journey towards authenticity. It was a journey towards a fuller knowledge and understanding of myself. And while I was knowing myself more and more fully, I came to know God more and more intimately. I came to accept my strengths as well as my weaknesses. I learned how to deal with my hurts and pains, but also to rejoice in my gifts and talents. All throughout the process, God revealed Himself as a God who knows me and searches me. He alone knows me truly and fully, for as Augustine says, God is closer to us than we are to ourselves.
However, it was not simply an inward journey, but an outward journey too. And here is the “fun” part because it literally brought me to places I’ve never been before: Palawan, Davao, Macau, China. I met many people, some of whom became close friends who have supported me from the day we met until the present. They are my brother Jesuits, former students and fellow teachers in Ateneo de Davao, parishioners of Sapang Palay and Payatas, diocesan seminarians in Manila and China, and many others. To them I owe much. They are truly part of my vocation story for without their friendship, it would have been doubly hard for me to persevere until ordination day.
On second thought, I think I should begin with June 5, 1981, when I started prep school in Naga Parochial School (NPS) or with June 13, 1988, when I began first year high school in Ateneo de Naga, now a university (AdeNU). It was in NPS that I learned how to read and write the alphabet, how to memorize the multiplication table and do basic arithmetic, how to deliver a declamation and elocution piece, how to deliver a campaign speech in a student council election.
In Ateneo, I built on the basics that I learned in NPS, but the most important lesson that I learned in Ateneo de Naga was precisely its motto: Primum Regum Dei, First the Kingdom of God. While in Ateneo, I continued to be a knight of the altar in Naga Cathedral. At the same time, I was also serving in Calabanga when Fr. Lorenzo delos Santos was parish priest there. Couldn’t it be God’s design that he was to be transferred to Magarao where my family lives? And there I also served as his acolyte. As Knights of the Altar, we went to Lingap Center for streetchildren where Fr. Sanz or Fr. Belardo would say Mass and our beloved, the late Ms. Febes Cedo would teach catechism after the Mass. We brought food to the inmates of the City Jail on St. Ignatius Feastday and on the day of Penafrancia Fiesta. Yes, First the Kingdom of God, and that meant sefless and cheerful service to the poor, the front row honorees of that Kingdom.
Hence, I owe much to my teachers from both NPS and AdeNU. They were my second parents. They were my earlier formators. I am grateful, too, to my classmates who have become my friends because we grew up together, being classmates from Grade 1 all the way to 4th year high school. Looking back, I think, cumulatively, we spent more time with each other that with our own siblings at home. Thus, until now, we have kept contact, meeting to celebrate each other’s birthdays. And I, now a priest, looking forward to assisting in their weddings and baptizing their babies.
This narration could be enough, but it could not be sufficient. Therefore, I think I should push the starting point back to July 12, 1975. I leave it to my parents and those who lent a hand to recall the details, often remembered emotionally, of those months when I had to be brough to Manila for a major operation in the head because of a blood clot. Then they say I was brought to the far-flung barrio of Harobay, Calabanga so that an albularyo could attend to me. If you see a picture of me as a baby after those trips back and forth, you would think I was a hydrocephalous or had a swollen cheek, or in the words of those who teased me, always a had a big candy in my right cheek. Could it be God’s design to let a baby who was given up as hopeless survive such a difficult phase in his infant life?
My family is not the Holy Family of Nazareth. We are a family of humans, weak and sinful mortals, trying hard each day to be good, to be holy, but many times falling short of the ideals each of us dreams of reaching. Like any family, we are not spared of problems and trials, some of them pushing us to the edge of breaking apart. But what kept us together is the faith in God handed to us through the many religious traditions each of our families of origin has bequeathed to us. The faith has kept us. We have kept the faith. That faith has produced a priest. I am that priest.
Authenticity. Primum Regnum Dei. Faith in God. These are not abstract principles all lodged in the mind of one preparing for the priesthood, as if formation is simply a mental exercise, a mind over matter affair. No, it’s not all in the mind. It’s also in the heart. And these three are the gifts that God bestows on the man whom He has chosen to be the recipient of an oh so wonderful gift of the priesthood, a pure gift, truly undeserved, given to the most unworthy of people, like me.
Very often, newly ordained priests are asked: “How does it feel? How did you manage to survive?” These questions make one think that ordination is like an awarding ceremony of a marathon that one has just finished. Or that formation is an amazing race-type of contest in which the winner brings home a cash prize, but also the cuts and the bruises he sustained along the way. But ordination is not like any of these. It is not a prize for the winners or a booty for the survivors. Rather, it is a gift, purely undeserved, given perhaps to the most unworthy of people, like me.
I have been trying to figure out a starting point in narrating my story, and I thought I could start with May 30, 1994, when I entered the Jesuit novitiate in Novaliches, Quezon City. I was merely a youth of 18 years old then, brought to the doors of the novitiate by a sincere desire to offer my life to the service of the Christ and the Church. Or was it simply to be a Jesuit in the mold of my Jesuit idols back in Ateneo de Naga: Frs. Jack Phelan, Frank Dolan, Johnny Sanz, and Rolly Bonoan? Immediately as the steel doors of the novitiate were shut, so strong as if to emphasize the burning of bridges between the novitiate and the world that outside of it, the journey to my ordination day began.
I could write an entire book just describing the details of that journey. But simply put, it was a journey towards authenticity. It was a journey towards a fuller knowledge and understanding of myself. And while I was knowing myself more and more fully, I came to know God more and more intimately. I came to accept my strengths as well as my weaknesses. I learned how to deal with my hurts and pains, but also to rejoice in my gifts and talents. All throughout the process, God revealed Himself as a God who knows me and searches me. He alone knows me truly and fully, for as Augustine says, God is closer to us than we are to ourselves.
However, it was not simply an inward journey, but an outward journey too. And here is the “fun” part because it literally brought me to places I’ve never been before: Palawan, Davao, Macau, China. I met many people, some of whom became close friends who have supported me from the day we met until the present. They are my brother Jesuits, former students and fellow teachers in Ateneo de Davao, parishioners of Sapang Palay and Payatas, diocesan seminarians in Manila and China, and many others. To them I owe much. They are truly part of my vocation story for without their friendship, it would have been doubly hard for me to persevere until ordination day.
On second thought, I think I should begin with June 5, 1981, when I started prep school in Naga Parochial School (NPS) or with June 13, 1988, when I began first year high school in Ateneo de Naga, now a university (AdeNU). It was in NPS that I learned how to read and write the alphabet, how to memorize the multiplication table and do basic arithmetic, how to deliver a declamation and elocution piece, how to deliver a campaign speech in a student council election.
In Ateneo, I built on the basics that I learned in NPS, but the most important lesson that I learned in Ateneo de Naga was precisely its motto: Primum Regum Dei, First the Kingdom of God. While in Ateneo, I continued to be a knight of the altar in Naga Cathedral. At the same time, I was also serving in Calabanga when Fr. Lorenzo delos Santos was parish priest there. Couldn’t it be God’s design that he was to be transferred to Magarao where my family lives? And there I also served as his acolyte. As Knights of the Altar, we went to Lingap Center for streetchildren where Fr. Sanz or Fr. Belardo would say Mass and our beloved, the late Ms. Febes Cedo would teach catechism after the Mass. We brought food to the inmates of the City Jail on St. Ignatius Feastday and on the day of Penafrancia Fiesta. Yes, First the Kingdom of God, and that meant sefless and cheerful service to the poor, the front row honorees of that Kingdom.
Hence, I owe much to my teachers from both NPS and AdeNU. They were my second parents. They were my earlier formators. I am grateful, too, to my classmates who have become my friends because we grew up together, being classmates from Grade 1 all the way to 4th year high school. Looking back, I think, cumulatively, we spent more time with each other that with our own siblings at home. Thus, until now, we have kept contact, meeting to celebrate each other’s birthdays. And I, now a priest, looking forward to assisting in their weddings and baptizing their babies.
This narration could be enough, but it could not be sufficient. Therefore, I think I should push the starting point back to July 12, 1975. I leave it to my parents and those who lent a hand to recall the details, often remembered emotionally, of those months when I had to be brough to Manila for a major operation in the head because of a blood clot. Then they say I was brought to the far-flung barrio of Harobay, Calabanga so that an albularyo could attend to me. If you see a picture of me as a baby after those trips back and forth, you would think I was a hydrocephalous or had a swollen cheek, or in the words of those who teased me, always a had a big candy in my right cheek. Could it be God’s design to let a baby who was given up as hopeless survive such a difficult phase in his infant life?
My family is not the Holy Family of Nazareth. We are a family of humans, weak and sinful mortals, trying hard each day to be good, to be holy, but many times falling short of the ideals each of us dreams of reaching. Like any family, we are not spared of problems and trials, some of them pushing us to the edge of breaking apart. But what kept us together is the faith in God handed to us through the many religious traditions each of our families of origin has bequeathed to us. The faith has kept us. We have kept the faith. That faith has produced a priest. I am that priest.
Authenticity. Primum Regnum Dei. Faith in God. These are not abstract principles all lodged in the mind of one preparing for the priesthood, as if formation is simply a mental exercise, a mind over matter affair. No, it’s not all in the mind. It’s also in the heart. And these three are the gifts that God bestows on the man whom He has chosen to be the recipient of an oh so wonderful gift of the priesthood, a pure gift, truly undeserved, given to the most unworthy of people, like me.
Monday, May 02, 2005
FROM SON TO FATHER
A New Priest Negotiating the Transition
May 2005
Nonoy is the Bikol term used by parents or elders to call their sons, nephews or grandsons, or any young boy. Its variations are Noy, Nonố or simply Nố. It carries feelings of tenderness and affection. If anyone among your friends has any of these nicknames, most probably he is a Bikolano or has Bikolano roots. You can be sure of that in the same way that Utoy most likely hails from either Quezon or Batangas. Dudong, on the other hand, must be a boy from the Visayas or Mindanao.
My parents and my grandparents call me Nonoy. My younger siblings call me Nonong Norlan. Being called Nonoy always gave me a sense of being loved most sincerely by the parents, uncles and aunties. It always made me conscious of my status in the family as the younger member, and therefore, as standing below my parents and grandparents in the family hierarchy. I defer to their will and wishes. I obey their orders and commands. I bow to their authority.
Things changed, however, after I was ordained priest. In Bicol where culture and religion are interwoven to each other, priests are held in high esteem. In the towns or cities where they are serve, they command great respect, very much like or even greater than the municipal mayor or provincial governor. People seek their advice and counsel in their personal and family problems. Parishioners follow the directives and policies formulated by the priest. Even those older than him in age and experience take his hand to kiss them.
Hence, when I returned to my parents’ hometowns of Magarao and Calabanga, both in Camarines Sur, my grandparents and relatives, all of them older than myself, came to me, their faces beaming with joy, and took my hand and kissed it, making mano po to me. I felt awkward in that situation: my lolo and lola, my uncles and aunties, whom I hold in high esteem and regard with deep respect, making mano to me! Shouldn’t I be the one making mano to them? Not knowing how to react in such situation, I also took their hands and made mano po to them, at which one of my aunties said, “Kami na ang ma-bisa saimo ta padi ka na. Father Norlan ka na!” (We should be the ones kissing your hand because you are now a priest. You are now Father Norlan!)
In the two weeks that I stayed in Bicol, visiting my relatives, making small talks with them, catching up with the latest news about this or that relative, no longer was I called Noy or Nố as often as before I was ordained. They would address me as Father Norlan. Then I slowly realize that something has indeed changed since ordination day. Yes, I say, to myself, I am the same person as the day before I was ordained, but to the people who witnessed the ordination, and those who attended my thanksgiving mass, there is a new person standing in front of them. This new priest is no longer just the Noy or Nố whom they asked to do errands or whom they reprimanded for a naughty act when he was still a young boy.
One day, one of my aunties approached to me and shared with me her problems at home, with her children, with her siblings and with her job. I was so surprised I did not know what to say in response to her sharing. These were stories she would never tell me before because some of them involved my parents or my other aunties whom I also respect. It was not a confession, but I thought what she shared were confessional matters. Then again, I heard the statement that explained why all these were happening: “Sinasabi ko ni saimo ta padi ka na. Ano masasabi mo, padi?” (I’m sharing these with you because you are now a priest. What can you say, Father?)
On my way back to Manila, while on the bus, I was trying to make sense of the experiences since my ordination, particularly those that happened in my parents’ hometowns. I recalled how easy it was for me to be vested in my priestly garments of chasuble and stole on my ordination day. How could it not be done easily when there were six people assisting in the investiture! But how difficult it is, I thought, to put on the true priestly vestments: not those made of silk or satin, but those invisible albs and chasubles which people see in me which draw them to me, which makes them take my hand and kiss it.
Are these invisible vestments their expectations of a priest? their perceptions? their projections? Or could it be what our theology books call the “Christ-in-the-priest”? That in their priests, people see, not the priest, but Christ who makes use of the priest as His instrument that He may be tangibly present among His people as their Head? Is it Christ who exercises authority and power over them whom they acknowledge as they take my hands to kiss them? Is it Christ who listens to their every affliction who, they trust, can ease their sorrows and burden? Is it Christ who gives his body and blood, His whole self, whom they recognize as their Lord and Saviour?
The transition that I am undergoing: from being a son, Noy or Nố, to being a father, Father Norlan, has been accompanied by amazement at how the sacramental principle works: how the Lord can make use of tangible, lowly and fragile earthly instruments to manifest His all-powerful, albeit invisible, presence in the world. The psalmist says: “My sin is always before me.” This, indeed, is my experience before the mysterious workings of God through the sacraments. Before the body and blood Christ, made present on the altar by the power of the Holy Spirit upon the gestures of my hands and words of my mouth, I confess my unworthiness to be the instrument of the transformation of the bread and wine. And as I raise the bread and wine in the climactic doxology to the Father, I meet the eyes of the people, all eager to receive the gifts of Jesus’ body and blood. Then, I begin to understand what it means to be called “Father Norlan.”
The transition from being “son to father” can not be undertaken apart from the community of believers. It is not a philosophical or theological question that can be discussed and resolved in a classroom. It is a task that can not be performed in a carpeted private chapel or in the priest’s airconditioned bedroom. It is a journey that has to take place where the people of God are: whether in the Sunday Eucharist or in a First Friday reconciliation service; both in the canonical interview for marriage and in the burial of a one-month old baby; in the picket line of workers on strike as much as in the cancer or psychiatric ward of a government hospital.
The priest is a son who has been made, or precisely, is being made (present progressive tense!), into a father, to be for his community, the father that welcomes the prodigal son back into his arms, into his love, even as the priest always remains a son who needs to constantly return to the Father who assures the priest/son-father: “You are my son! Today I have begotten you!”
May 2005
Nonoy is the Bikol term used by parents or elders to call their sons, nephews or grandsons, or any young boy. Its variations are Noy, Nonố or simply Nố. It carries feelings of tenderness and affection. If anyone among your friends has any of these nicknames, most probably he is a Bikolano or has Bikolano roots. You can be sure of that in the same way that Utoy most likely hails from either Quezon or Batangas. Dudong, on the other hand, must be a boy from the Visayas or Mindanao.
My parents and my grandparents call me Nonoy. My younger siblings call me Nonong Norlan. Being called Nonoy always gave me a sense of being loved most sincerely by the parents, uncles and aunties. It always made me conscious of my status in the family as the younger member, and therefore, as standing below my parents and grandparents in the family hierarchy. I defer to their will and wishes. I obey their orders and commands. I bow to their authority.
Things changed, however, after I was ordained priest. In Bicol where culture and religion are interwoven to each other, priests are held in high esteem. In the towns or cities where they are serve, they command great respect, very much like or even greater than the municipal mayor or provincial governor. People seek their advice and counsel in their personal and family problems. Parishioners follow the directives and policies formulated by the priest. Even those older than him in age and experience take his hand to kiss them.
Hence, when I returned to my parents’ hometowns of Magarao and Calabanga, both in Camarines Sur, my grandparents and relatives, all of them older than myself, came to me, their faces beaming with joy, and took my hand and kissed it, making mano po to me. I felt awkward in that situation: my lolo and lola, my uncles and aunties, whom I hold in high esteem and regard with deep respect, making mano to me! Shouldn’t I be the one making mano to them? Not knowing how to react in such situation, I also took their hands and made mano po to them, at which one of my aunties said, “Kami na ang ma-bisa saimo ta padi ka na. Father Norlan ka na!” (We should be the ones kissing your hand because you are now a priest. You are now Father Norlan!)
In the two weeks that I stayed in Bicol, visiting my relatives, making small talks with them, catching up with the latest news about this or that relative, no longer was I called Noy or Nố as often as before I was ordained. They would address me as Father Norlan. Then I slowly realize that something has indeed changed since ordination day. Yes, I say, to myself, I am the same person as the day before I was ordained, but to the people who witnessed the ordination, and those who attended my thanksgiving mass, there is a new person standing in front of them. This new priest is no longer just the Noy or Nố whom they asked to do errands or whom they reprimanded for a naughty act when he was still a young boy.
One day, one of my aunties approached to me and shared with me her problems at home, with her children, with her siblings and with her job. I was so surprised I did not know what to say in response to her sharing. These were stories she would never tell me before because some of them involved my parents or my other aunties whom I also respect. It was not a confession, but I thought what she shared were confessional matters. Then again, I heard the statement that explained why all these were happening: “Sinasabi ko ni saimo ta padi ka na. Ano masasabi mo, padi?” (I’m sharing these with you because you are now a priest. What can you say, Father?)
On my way back to Manila, while on the bus, I was trying to make sense of the experiences since my ordination, particularly those that happened in my parents’ hometowns. I recalled how easy it was for me to be vested in my priestly garments of chasuble and stole on my ordination day. How could it not be done easily when there were six people assisting in the investiture! But how difficult it is, I thought, to put on the true priestly vestments: not those made of silk or satin, but those invisible albs and chasubles which people see in me which draw them to me, which makes them take my hand and kiss it.
Are these invisible vestments their expectations of a priest? their perceptions? their projections? Or could it be what our theology books call the “Christ-in-the-priest”? That in their priests, people see, not the priest, but Christ who makes use of the priest as His instrument that He may be tangibly present among His people as their Head? Is it Christ who exercises authority and power over them whom they acknowledge as they take my hands to kiss them? Is it Christ who listens to their every affliction who, they trust, can ease their sorrows and burden? Is it Christ who gives his body and blood, His whole self, whom they recognize as their Lord and Saviour?
The transition that I am undergoing: from being a son, Noy or Nố, to being a father, Father Norlan, has been accompanied by amazement at how the sacramental principle works: how the Lord can make use of tangible, lowly and fragile earthly instruments to manifest His all-powerful, albeit invisible, presence in the world. The psalmist says: “My sin is always before me.” This, indeed, is my experience before the mysterious workings of God through the sacraments. Before the body and blood Christ, made present on the altar by the power of the Holy Spirit upon the gestures of my hands and words of my mouth, I confess my unworthiness to be the instrument of the transformation of the bread and wine. And as I raise the bread and wine in the climactic doxology to the Father, I meet the eyes of the people, all eager to receive the gifts of Jesus’ body and blood. Then, I begin to understand what it means to be called “Father Norlan.”
The transition from being “son to father” can not be undertaken apart from the community of believers. It is not a philosophical or theological question that can be discussed and resolved in a classroom. It is a task that can not be performed in a carpeted private chapel or in the priest’s airconditioned bedroom. It is a journey that has to take place where the people of God are: whether in the Sunday Eucharist or in a First Friday reconciliation service; both in the canonical interview for marriage and in the burial of a one-month old baby; in the picket line of workers on strike as much as in the cancer or psychiatric ward of a government hospital.
The priest is a son who has been made, or precisely, is being made (present progressive tense!), into a father, to be for his community, the father that welcomes the prodigal son back into his arms, into his love, even as the priest always remains a son who needs to constantly return to the Father who assures the priest/son-father: “You are my son! Today I have begotten you!”
Sunday, April 24, 2005
BEYOND ALL DESERVING
Fr. Joel Tabora, S.J.
Thanksgiving Mass ofFather Norlan Julia, S.J.with Frs. Ritche Elot, Florge Sy, and Gaby Lamug-Nanawa, S.J.University Church of Christ the KingAteneo de Naga University
23 April 2005
This afternoon we come together in special thanksgiving. We thank the Lord for having given the gift of his ministerial priesthood to these four young Jesuits – including Frs. Ritche Elot, Florge Sy and Gaby Lamug-Nanawa. With so many of us here from Magarao, from Calabanga, Naga Parochial School , and the Ateneo de Naga High School, we are specially grateful for the gift of Father Norlan Julia. The Lord calls his priests from among his people, and this is what gives us today extraordinary joy. Father Norlan's father, from Magarao, and mother, from Calabanga, raised him and the rest of their family in Naga despite many trials and bouts with major illness. Who would have thought that Norlan would develop into the accomplished young Jesuit he now is? Norlan learned the fundamentals of reading, writing and public speaking in Naga Parochial School ; he served as a Knight of the Altar in the Cathedral of Naga and in the Parish Church of Calabanga; he grew further in leadership and academic excellence at the Ateneo de Naga High School where he graduated in 1992 as class valedictorian. Many years of higher education and formation have since intervened. But Norlan has never forgotten that he was called for the life he now leads from among us; this has been and is a source of deep inspiration and strength to him. For us, it has been our source of quiet pride that he has been called from among us. We are grateful that through the power and mystery of God's grace, Norlan comes today as an ordained Jesuit priest to take bread, bless it, and give it to us as the Bread of Life; he comes to take the cup of wine, bless it, and give it to us as the Cup of our Salvation, the Cup of Eternal Reconciliation and Unending Rejoicing.
Product of Grace
Our gratitude runs deep when we realize how much this is a work of God's grace. We Jesuits work hard at vocations promotions. But there is nothing in vocations promotions that can be forced. We know no genial combination of propaganda, seminars, workshops, counseling, novitiate formation and long years of study that “produces” the priest. There are so many competing conventions and conferences, so many competing values in every song on the radio, in every movie in HBO, in every access of the Internet, so many competing interests in the global market, so many competing challenges. Why be a priest, when one can sell soap? Why preach the Gospel, when one can make so much money advertising the good life? Why worry about the human individual, his spirit, his moral integrity, his freedom, his happiness, when one can be a doctor, or what is even more fashionable today, a nurse? Why preach the social doctrine of the Church when one can be a politician and do so much for the poor (or so they say)? Why pursue a life of sanctity marked by the sign of the Cross, when one is so weak, or so passionate, and it's so much easier to discreetly capitulate to sin? Or, even if one by extraordinary guts and even more extraordinary grace were spared from major sin, why be a priest when one can be a holy layman?
Primum Regnum Dei
I don't think there's any answer to this other than this is the way God called Norlan, and this is the way Norlan responded through grace in our midst. Norlan attests that when he was at the Ateneo de Naga high school, he was impressed by the school's motto: Primum Regnum Dei - First the Kingdom of God . That's a remarkable fact, isn't it. Why, we might ask, was Norlan so moved by this phrase when so many graduate from the high school practically unmoved by it? But Norlan was. It was a real challenge to him. First the Kingdom of God . It may have been because of the bottom-line struggle in his family guided by faith and love to do what is right despite adversity under a God who is King. It may have been the many Masses he served that placed the Altar and God above other possibilities in his consciousness. It may have been the quiet witness of such as the late Father Lorenzo de los Santos in Calabanga, whose Masses he served over years, or perhaps the moving goodness of Fr. Jack Phelan, an enduring example of one who in his kindness served first the Kingdom of God . It may have been the way the teachers at Ateneo taught and interacted with students, teaching obviously not just for their salaries. It may have even been the memorable Masses of Fr. Johnny Sanz and Fr.Ayong Belardo for streetchildren in the old Lingap Center , or the way our beloved Ms. Cedo taught catechism to these children after Mass. Fr. Bonoan's passion for the school and for Bikol, challenging Ateneans to serve God's Kingdom first in serving God's Bikolanos may have also been at play. However it came about, Primum regnum Dei was not just a decorative slogan for Norlan. It was an imperative of life. And when the King invited him to work at his side, it was the imperative for his yes . And for this, today, we are profoundly grateful.
Priesthood of all the Faithful
Your professors at Loyola School of Theology have explained to you the theological meaning of the priesthood much better than I ever could. It is clear, taken from among us, your ordination does not make you now a mediator between God and man. You do not hover above us and below God. Even angels don't exercise this function, and you are clearly not an angel. There is only one such mediator between God and man, and that is Jesus Christ, who became one of us in order as High Priest to offer the ultimate sacrifice, the free offering of himself on the Cross restoring us to the Father ultimately as the expression of the Father's Love for us. Through our baptism, through our confirmation, through the Eucharist, we are all Priest, we all participate in his freely-offered death and resurrection, his Priesthood; we all are participators in the offering that justifies us and sanctifies us and gives us the hope of eternal life.
One With Your Lord and Community
However, through your priestly ordination, Norlan, you are called from among us to the ministerial priesthood. As there are many functions in the Church, you are called to the priestly function, the priestly office, the priestly ministry, that the enduring presence and vigor of Christ the High Priest in our world might be manifested. You are called from among us on behalf of humanity and in the name of Jesus Chris t to offer the Sacrifice, to forgive sins, and to celebrate sacraments of God's love and grace. Through the power now in your consecrated hands, Christ in and with the Christian Community takes Bread, blesses it, breaks it, saying, “This is my Body now given up for you”; Christ in and with the Christian community takes wine, blesses it, and shares it saying, “This is my Blood poured out for you.” Through the strength now in your voice, Christ in and with the Christian community announces his Good News to the world, confronts evil and corruption in the world, challenges women and men to create a more humane world. Through the compassion now in your heart, Christ in and with the Christian community, forgives sin, feeds the hungry, consoles the suffering, shelters the homeless, and cares for the elderly. Through the fire now in your belly, Christ in and with the Christian community moves against all those conditions in which man or woman is an alienated, enslaved, degraded, isolated, and despicable being. Without Christ, your priesthood has no head; without your community, your priesthood has no body. Stay one then with your Lord; for this, you have vowed poverty, chastity and obedience as a Jesuit, you have resolved to live a life of sanctity. Stay one with your people, for from among these people, with these people, and for these people you have been ordained. You have no priesthood apart from Jesus; you have no priesthood apart from your people. You have not tired of saying, Norlan, that your priesthood is pure gift. You do not deserve it; you never will. You have worked hard and grown much, but still do not deserve it; you will work even harder, and shall grow even more, but shall still never deserve it. You shall succeed and fail, triumph and fall, weep and rejoice in love unimaginable, but still never deserve it. It is for this reason that we have come to join you in your Thanksgiving, to be one with you in your Eucharist, in your thanksgiving for treasure undeserved. As your gift is undeserved, neither is it a gift we deserve. Who would have thought we could have produced this day? We didn't. This is the day the Lord has made, and so we rejoice and are glad! For such a pure gift, doubly undeserved, one can only humbly give thanks. In the gift of your priesthood, Norlan, again we know the Father's Love for us in his Son, in his Priesthood made present to us in you, beyond all deserving.
Thanksgiving Mass ofFather Norlan Julia, S.J.with Frs. Ritche Elot, Florge Sy, and Gaby Lamug-Nanawa, S.J.University Church of Christ the KingAteneo de Naga University
23 April 2005
This afternoon we come together in special thanksgiving. We thank the Lord for having given the gift of his ministerial priesthood to these four young Jesuits – including Frs. Ritche Elot, Florge Sy and Gaby Lamug-Nanawa. With so many of us here from Magarao, from Calabanga, Naga Parochial School , and the Ateneo de Naga High School, we are specially grateful for the gift of Father Norlan Julia. The Lord calls his priests from among his people, and this is what gives us today extraordinary joy. Father Norlan's father, from Magarao, and mother, from Calabanga, raised him and the rest of their family in Naga despite many trials and bouts with major illness. Who would have thought that Norlan would develop into the accomplished young Jesuit he now is? Norlan learned the fundamentals of reading, writing and public speaking in Naga Parochial School ; he served as a Knight of the Altar in the Cathedral of Naga and in the Parish Church of Calabanga; he grew further in leadership and academic excellence at the Ateneo de Naga High School where he graduated in 1992 as class valedictorian. Many years of higher education and formation have since intervened. But Norlan has never forgotten that he was called for the life he now leads from among us; this has been and is a source of deep inspiration and strength to him. For us, it has been our source of quiet pride that he has been called from among us. We are grateful that through the power and mystery of God's grace, Norlan comes today as an ordained Jesuit priest to take bread, bless it, and give it to us as the Bread of Life; he comes to take the cup of wine, bless it, and give it to us as the Cup of our Salvation, the Cup of Eternal Reconciliation and Unending Rejoicing.
Product of Grace
Our gratitude runs deep when we realize how much this is a work of God's grace. We Jesuits work hard at vocations promotions. But there is nothing in vocations promotions that can be forced. We know no genial combination of propaganda, seminars, workshops, counseling, novitiate formation and long years of study that “produces” the priest. There are so many competing conventions and conferences, so many competing values in every song on the radio, in every movie in HBO, in every access of the Internet, so many competing interests in the global market, so many competing challenges. Why be a priest, when one can sell soap? Why preach the Gospel, when one can make so much money advertising the good life? Why worry about the human individual, his spirit, his moral integrity, his freedom, his happiness, when one can be a doctor, or what is even more fashionable today, a nurse? Why preach the social doctrine of the Church when one can be a politician and do so much for the poor (or so they say)? Why pursue a life of sanctity marked by the sign of the Cross, when one is so weak, or so passionate, and it's so much easier to discreetly capitulate to sin? Or, even if one by extraordinary guts and even more extraordinary grace were spared from major sin, why be a priest when one can be a holy layman?
Primum Regnum Dei
I don't think there's any answer to this other than this is the way God called Norlan, and this is the way Norlan responded through grace in our midst. Norlan attests that when he was at the Ateneo de Naga high school, he was impressed by the school's motto: Primum Regnum Dei - First the Kingdom of God . That's a remarkable fact, isn't it. Why, we might ask, was Norlan so moved by this phrase when so many graduate from the high school practically unmoved by it? But Norlan was. It was a real challenge to him. First the Kingdom of God . It may have been because of the bottom-line struggle in his family guided by faith and love to do what is right despite adversity under a God who is King. It may have been the many Masses he served that placed the Altar and God above other possibilities in his consciousness. It may have been the quiet witness of such as the late Father Lorenzo de los Santos in Calabanga, whose Masses he served over years, or perhaps the moving goodness of Fr. Jack Phelan, an enduring example of one who in his kindness served first the Kingdom of God . It may have been the way the teachers at Ateneo taught and interacted with students, teaching obviously not just for their salaries. It may have even been the memorable Masses of Fr. Johnny Sanz and Fr.Ayong Belardo for streetchildren in the old Lingap Center , or the way our beloved Ms. Cedo taught catechism to these children after Mass. Fr. Bonoan's passion for the school and for Bikol, challenging Ateneans to serve God's Kingdom first in serving God's Bikolanos may have also been at play. However it came about, Primum regnum Dei was not just a decorative slogan for Norlan. It was an imperative of life. And when the King invited him to work at his side, it was the imperative for his yes . And for this, today, we are profoundly grateful.
Priesthood of all the Faithful
Your professors at Loyola School of Theology have explained to you the theological meaning of the priesthood much better than I ever could. It is clear, taken from among us, your ordination does not make you now a mediator between God and man. You do not hover above us and below God. Even angels don't exercise this function, and you are clearly not an angel. There is only one such mediator between God and man, and that is Jesus Christ, who became one of us in order as High Priest to offer the ultimate sacrifice, the free offering of himself on the Cross restoring us to the Father ultimately as the expression of the Father's Love for us. Through our baptism, through our confirmation, through the Eucharist, we are all Priest, we all participate in his freely-offered death and resurrection, his Priesthood; we all are participators in the offering that justifies us and sanctifies us and gives us the hope of eternal life.
One With Your Lord and Community
However, through your priestly ordination, Norlan, you are called from among us to the ministerial priesthood. As there are many functions in the Church, you are called to the priestly function, the priestly office, the priestly ministry, that the enduring presence and vigor of Christ the High Priest in our world might be manifested. You are called from among us on behalf of humanity and in the name of Jesus Chris t to offer the Sacrifice, to forgive sins, and to celebrate sacraments of God's love and grace. Through the power now in your consecrated hands, Christ in and with the Christian Community takes Bread, blesses it, breaks it, saying, “This is my Body now given up for you”; Christ in and with the Christian community takes wine, blesses it, and shares it saying, “This is my Blood poured out for you.” Through the strength now in your voice, Christ in and with the Christian community announces his Good News to the world, confronts evil and corruption in the world, challenges women and men to create a more humane world. Through the compassion now in your heart, Christ in and with the Christian community, forgives sin, feeds the hungry, consoles the suffering, shelters the homeless, and cares for the elderly. Through the fire now in your belly, Christ in and with the Christian community moves against all those conditions in which man or woman is an alienated, enslaved, degraded, isolated, and despicable being. Without Christ, your priesthood has no head; without your community, your priesthood has no body. Stay one then with your Lord; for this, you have vowed poverty, chastity and obedience as a Jesuit, you have resolved to live a life of sanctity. Stay one with your people, for from among these people, with these people, and for these people you have been ordained. You have no priesthood apart from Jesus; you have no priesthood apart from your people. You have not tired of saying, Norlan, that your priesthood is pure gift. You do not deserve it; you never will. You have worked hard and grown much, but still do not deserve it; you will work even harder, and shall grow even more, but shall still never deserve it. You shall succeed and fail, triumph and fall, weep and rejoice in love unimaginable, but still never deserve it. It is for this reason that we have come to join you in your Thanksgiving, to be one with you in your Eucharist, in your thanksgiving for treasure undeserved. As your gift is undeserved, neither is it a gift we deserve. Who would have thought we could have produced this day? We didn't. This is the day the Lord has made, and so we rejoice and are glad! For such a pure gift, doubly undeserved, one can only humbly give thanks. In the gift of your priesthood, Norlan, again we know the Father's Love for us in his Son, in his Priesthood made present to us in you, beyond all deserving.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
HOW THE SHEPHERD KNOWS HIS SHEEP
Homily for Thanksgiving Mass
Ateneo de Davao University Chapel;
April 19, 2005
When students or teachers from Ateneo de Davao would visit us in Loyola House in Manila, they would ask me, “Kumusta na si Bro Elot? Nandiyan pa si Bro Elot?” And I ask them why they think of such questions, “So you think he will leave the seminary? How much did you bet that he will leave?” Well, those who bet for Bro Elot’s leaving the seminary discover today that they lost, because now, Bro Elot is not just Bro Elot, but Fr. Elot, Fr. Ritche Elot, SJ.
Today’s Gospel speaks of Jesus the Good Shepherd knowing His sheep. Is there a difference between Jesus’ knowing us His sheep and our ordinary knowing of each other? Certainly there is. But what is that difference? As I reflect on our respective vocation stories in the light of today’s Gospel, I discover that the Good Shepherd’s knowing His sheep, in contrast to our ordinary knowing of each other, is a knowing that penetrates, liberates, and sends.
Those who thought Fr. Ritche would not persevere probably based their judgment on what they saw five years ago: a Bro Ritche who teaches in casual sportshirts and rubber shoes, who drives around the city wearing his shades, who plays basketball rough and tough, who teases his students and fellow teachers, making some laugh, some cry. But these were all Bro Ritche on the outside. The Good Shepherd, however, sees through these externals and knows Ritche in a way that penetrates his heart and soul. And what does the Good Shepherd see which we don’t? A heart that weeps at the sight of children and old people begging on the streets. A heart that rages against the injustices in society. A heart that burns for the love of Christ. This is why the Lord calls Fr. Ritche to be His priest, something that many people truly find unbelievable. And now he is being sent to PGH to minister to the sick and the dying. For somehow, after years of formation and probation, that inner Ritche has slowly transformed the outer Ritche that many of you encountered five years ago. It is a knowing that penetrates.
Those of you who worked with and under Fr. Norlan remember him as the CLE teacher and Guidance head who went to school in formal polo shirt, sometimes, long sleeves, hair groomed with either baby oil or styling gel. People admired him as an eloquent, organized, systematic Jesuit. But then again, these are externals. The Lord sees through these and finds in Fr. Norlan’s heart tendencies towards pride and conceit, thinking himself better than others, and so wanting to do things by himself. Beneath the composure and confidence was an aching need to be free, to belong, to enjoy. Fortunately for Fr. Norlan, Jesus’ knowing is not only penetrating, but liberating as well. In confession and in the Eucharist, and in the company of his fun-loving third year high school students and of the Guidance staff, Fr. Norlan experienced Jesus’ liberating knowing, allowing him to be himself, to feel he belongs and to enjoy life. He hopes to bring the same liberating love of the Good Shepherd as he begins his mission of forming future priests, future shepherds in the St. John Vianney Seminary in Cagayan de Oro City. It is a knowing that liberates.
Fr. Gabby, as you can see, is every girl’s dream boyfriend: tall, tisoy, intelligent, gentle. He comes from a gated and guarded subdivision in Paranaque and graduated industrial engineering from Dela Salle university. As with Fr. Ritche and Norlan, the Lord penetrated the high and mighty walls of the heart of Fr. Gabby and liberated it from being imprisoned in the comfort and convenience of his soft bed, his perfumed car, his deadly good looks. Once he stepped in Payatas and saw the malnourished children who have nothing to eat, he literally fell in love with them, and did all he could to help them. He influenced his rich matron friends to adopt a feeding center and they pledged to support Payatas even in the absence of Fr. Gabby. Perhaps Fr. Gabby is the most penetrated and liberated among the four of us that he is the one chosen to be sent/ missioned to Cambodia, where a young Jesuit like him, Richie Fernando died a martyr. It is a knowing that sends.
Fr. Florge’s family name alone is a clue to the power this guy holds in his hands. He is a Sy, like Henry Sy of the SM empire. Though he is not related to Henry Sy, he is powerful nonetheless. If knowledge is power, then Fr. Florge is truly powerful (gamhanan gyud), because he is both a licensed medical technologist and a licensed medical doctor. He knows a lot, not only about medicine, but relationships, so you can also seek his expert advise not only for your stomach ache or tooth ache, but also for your heartache. But Fr. Florge is not only a man of knowledge, he is also a man of enviable talents. You must have heard of the running priest! Well, in Fr. Florge we have a singing priest, a dancing priest, a writer priest, an actor priest. If Fr. Florge had joined showbusiness early on as a child, he would already be a megastar or a superstar by now. But the Good Shepherd penetrated his heart and saw in him more than a voice, a dance step or a script. And he liberated him from the deceptive illusions of the fleeting fantasy world of fame and fortune. And having been penetrated and liberated, he is now being sent…to the faraway island of Culion, Palawan, to be parish priest and chaplain of the sanitarium. It is a knowing that penetrates, liberates, sends.
And so it is that the Good Shepherd has known these four sheep of his, with a knowing that penetrates, liberates and sends. This knowing is not a linear process that begins at point A and ends at Point B. Rather, it runs in a spiral direction, touching each area of our lives again and again, the process repeated over and over again, until, at least, approximately, we may truly be configured to Christ, the Good Shepherd, in whose priesthood we share.
Before you begin to think that this gospel/ good news is just about us, new priests, let me gently remind you that this is also about you. This is about us, all of us together! For we are your priests. Our priesthood makes sense because of you. Your joys and hopes are our joys and hopes. Your griefs and anxieties are our griefs and anxieties. For are not our stories your stories too? This is our story! And so we beg each one you to pray for us, to pray with us. Just as we have walked together the long and winding road to our ordination, let us continue walking together until at last we are greeted at the doorstep of the heavenly Kingdom, by the Good Shepherd who knows us in a way that penetrates, liberates and sends. Amen.
Ateneo de Davao University Chapel;
April 19, 2005
When students or teachers from Ateneo de Davao would visit us in Loyola House in Manila, they would ask me, “Kumusta na si Bro Elot? Nandiyan pa si Bro Elot?” And I ask them why they think of such questions, “So you think he will leave the seminary? How much did you bet that he will leave?” Well, those who bet for Bro Elot’s leaving the seminary discover today that they lost, because now, Bro Elot is not just Bro Elot, but Fr. Elot, Fr. Ritche Elot, SJ.
Today’s Gospel speaks of Jesus the Good Shepherd knowing His sheep. Is there a difference between Jesus’ knowing us His sheep and our ordinary knowing of each other? Certainly there is. But what is that difference? As I reflect on our respective vocation stories in the light of today’s Gospel, I discover that the Good Shepherd’s knowing His sheep, in contrast to our ordinary knowing of each other, is a knowing that penetrates, liberates, and sends.
Those who thought Fr. Ritche would not persevere probably based their judgment on what they saw five years ago: a Bro Ritche who teaches in casual sportshirts and rubber shoes, who drives around the city wearing his shades, who plays basketball rough and tough, who teases his students and fellow teachers, making some laugh, some cry. But these were all Bro Ritche on the outside. The Good Shepherd, however, sees through these externals and knows Ritche in a way that penetrates his heart and soul. And what does the Good Shepherd see which we don’t? A heart that weeps at the sight of children and old people begging on the streets. A heart that rages against the injustices in society. A heart that burns for the love of Christ. This is why the Lord calls Fr. Ritche to be His priest, something that many people truly find unbelievable. And now he is being sent to PGH to minister to the sick and the dying. For somehow, after years of formation and probation, that inner Ritche has slowly transformed the outer Ritche that many of you encountered five years ago. It is a knowing that penetrates.
Those of you who worked with and under Fr. Norlan remember him as the CLE teacher and Guidance head who went to school in formal polo shirt, sometimes, long sleeves, hair groomed with either baby oil or styling gel. People admired him as an eloquent, organized, systematic Jesuit. But then again, these are externals. The Lord sees through these and finds in Fr. Norlan’s heart tendencies towards pride and conceit, thinking himself better than others, and so wanting to do things by himself. Beneath the composure and confidence was an aching need to be free, to belong, to enjoy. Fortunately for Fr. Norlan, Jesus’ knowing is not only penetrating, but liberating as well. In confession and in the Eucharist, and in the company of his fun-loving third year high school students and of the Guidance staff, Fr. Norlan experienced Jesus’ liberating knowing, allowing him to be himself, to feel he belongs and to enjoy life. He hopes to bring the same liberating love of the Good Shepherd as he begins his mission of forming future priests, future shepherds in the St. John Vianney Seminary in Cagayan de Oro City. It is a knowing that liberates.
Fr. Gabby, as you can see, is every girl’s dream boyfriend: tall, tisoy, intelligent, gentle. He comes from a gated and guarded subdivision in Paranaque and graduated industrial engineering from Dela Salle university. As with Fr. Ritche and Norlan, the Lord penetrated the high and mighty walls of the heart of Fr. Gabby and liberated it from being imprisoned in the comfort and convenience of his soft bed, his perfumed car, his deadly good looks. Once he stepped in Payatas and saw the malnourished children who have nothing to eat, he literally fell in love with them, and did all he could to help them. He influenced his rich matron friends to adopt a feeding center and they pledged to support Payatas even in the absence of Fr. Gabby. Perhaps Fr. Gabby is the most penetrated and liberated among the four of us that he is the one chosen to be sent/ missioned to Cambodia, where a young Jesuit like him, Richie Fernando died a martyr. It is a knowing that sends.
Fr. Florge’s family name alone is a clue to the power this guy holds in his hands. He is a Sy, like Henry Sy of the SM empire. Though he is not related to Henry Sy, he is powerful nonetheless. If knowledge is power, then Fr. Florge is truly powerful (gamhanan gyud), because he is both a licensed medical technologist and a licensed medical doctor. He knows a lot, not only about medicine, but relationships, so you can also seek his expert advise not only for your stomach ache or tooth ache, but also for your heartache. But Fr. Florge is not only a man of knowledge, he is also a man of enviable talents. You must have heard of the running priest! Well, in Fr. Florge we have a singing priest, a dancing priest, a writer priest, an actor priest. If Fr. Florge had joined showbusiness early on as a child, he would already be a megastar or a superstar by now. But the Good Shepherd penetrated his heart and saw in him more than a voice, a dance step or a script. And he liberated him from the deceptive illusions of the fleeting fantasy world of fame and fortune. And having been penetrated and liberated, he is now being sent…to the faraway island of Culion, Palawan, to be parish priest and chaplain of the sanitarium. It is a knowing that penetrates, liberates, sends.
And so it is that the Good Shepherd has known these four sheep of his, with a knowing that penetrates, liberates and sends. This knowing is not a linear process that begins at point A and ends at Point B. Rather, it runs in a spiral direction, touching each area of our lives again and again, the process repeated over and over again, until, at least, approximately, we may truly be configured to Christ, the Good Shepherd, in whose priesthood we share.
Before you begin to think that this gospel/ good news is just about us, new priests, let me gently remind you that this is also about you. This is about us, all of us together! For we are your priests. Our priesthood makes sense because of you. Your joys and hopes are our joys and hopes. Your griefs and anxieties are our griefs and anxieties. For are not our stories your stories too? This is our story! And so we beg each one you to pray for us, to pray with us. Just as we have walked together the long and winding road to our ordination, let us continue walking together until at last we are greeted at the doorstep of the heavenly Kingdom, by the Good Shepherd who knows us in a way that penetrates, liberates and sends. Amen.
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