Paano ko nga ba nalaman na tinatawag ako ng Diyos? May himala ba, o mga pangitain akong nakita? 

Paano ko masasabi nang may kasiguruhan na ito ang laan na buhay Nya para sa akin?

Di tulad nila Samuel o Jeremias sa mga kwento sa Bibliya, wala akong narinig na boses o napaginipang mga tanda na nag-udyok sa akin na subukin ang buhay relihiyoso. Bagkus, maari kong ihambing ang aking bokasyon sa isang binhing itinanim. Magmula pa sa aking pagkabata, naroon na ang pagkabihag sa Simbahan at sa pananalangin. Tanda ko pa noong mga bata pa kami, hindi maaring hindi kami mag-rosaryo at mag-Angelus pagsapit ng alas-sais ng gabi. Doon ko unang naranasan ang matuto sa kahalagahan ng pananalangin. Sa murang edad, naging aktibo ako sa aming parokya bilang sakristan at kasapi ng youth ministry.

 

Isa sa mga naging mabuting halimbawa ko habang lumalaki ay ang aking lola. Lagi nya akong bit-bit sa pagdalo sa bukluran o Bible study. Kadalasan, ang mga dumadalo sa bahay-bahay na pagpupulong na ito ay mga nanay o matatandang babae at lalaki. Ako ang pinaka-batang kasali sa kanilang pag-babahaginan. Sa murang edad, natuto akong magbasa ng Bibliya. Nakatulong ang karanasan na iyon upang mas lalo kong mahalin ang aking relihiyon. Mula sa paulit-ulit ng parehas na dasal, nadiskubre ko sa bukluran ang pag-aaral ng Salita ng Diyos bilang mahalagang sangkap ng buhay panalanagin. Noong ako ay nasa ika-anim na baiting naman, ang aking adviser at guro sa English ay isang Protestante. Bilang bahagi ng aming mga aralin, pinapabasa nya kami ng mga akda mula sa Bibliya at pinakakabisado nya kami ng mga talata. 

 

Kaya hindi ako magtataka kung bakit sa murang edad, ang “binhi” ng bokasyon ay nagkaroon ng ugat at magkadahon. Noong nagtapos ako ng highschool, pinagpasyahan kong pumasok sa seminaryo. Malapit lamang ang seminaryo sa aming bahay. Tuwang tuwa ang aking ina sa aking desisyon. Sa hindi inaasahang pagkakataon, namatay si Mama kung kaya pagkatapos ng isang taon sa seminaryo, pinagpasyahan kong lumabas upang tumulong sa aking pamilya. Nagtrabaho, nagsikap, at gumawa ng ibang pangarap.

 

Ngunit iba ang Diyos umibig at manuyo. Habang wala na sa isip ko ang bumalik pa, sa edad na dalawampu’t lima ay nakita ko na naman ang sarili kong pumapasok sa seminaryo. Parang may kung anong uri ng pagkabihag na lagging nagtutulak sa akin na bumalik sa kabila ng mga bagay na aking natamo sa buhay.

 

Ngunit lumabas muli ako. Ang lola ko naman ang dahilan sa pagkakataong ito. Wala na kasing mag-aalaga sa kanya at may kakayanang suportahan ang kanyang mga pangangalingan. Kaya naman inilaan ko ang mga nakaraang taon sap ag-aalaga sa kanya. Maraming nangyari sa mga panahong iyon. Sa aking pagsisikap na rin, bahagyang umunlad ang aming pamumuhay. Ngunit hindi pa rin nawawala ang pagnanais na maging par isa lahat ng panahon na iyon.

 

Matapos ang apat na taon, sumakabilang buhay na rin ang aking lola. Isang taon pagtapos ay sumunod naman ang aking ama. Opisyal na wala na akong kailangang suportahan. Parang sinasabi ng Diyos sa akin, may idadahilan ka pa ba para hindi Ako sundan? Kaya naman agad akong naghanap ng mapapasukang seminary sa edad na tatlumpu’t-isa. Dinala ako ng aking mga panalangin at pangarap sa seminaryo ng mga Pranksiskano.

 

Tapos na ba ang kwento ko, ngayon na narito ako sa loob ng seminaryo at tinutukoy kung ang buhay Pransiskano nga ba ang buhay na angkop at laan para sa akin? Hindi ko masisiguro sapagkat nasa simula pa lamang ako. Dito ba ko tinatawag upang maging banal? Hindi ko alam ang sagot sa mga ito sa ngayon.

 

Ngunit makakasiguro ako sa grasya ng Diyos na Siyang tumawag at unang umibig sa akin.

 

Yun lang ay sapat na sa akin sa ngayon.

This was the question I was pondering for quite some time now over the years. Consider this: Never in the history of mankind that people have the freedom to choose the kind of life they want to live. Compared to throughout history until some 70 years ago, there is no virtual stumbling block any more for anyone to have a career of his or her choice. We cannot deny the fact that before, people have a limited career or passions to pursue. Options for women were very limited. For example, in the Middle Ages when an intelligent woman wants to have a career and not get married, the only option was to hone her skills by entering the convent. Today, women can be anything and everything all at the same time. In a world where there is an unprecedented emancipation, we see a declining trend in religious life. Every year, there are more priests and religious men and women who die than those who enter. In many parts like in Europe and North America, religious life is in decline. Which brings me back to the question “Does God still call people to live this way of life?”

 

For to become a religious these days is an absurdity. Taking from Camus, absurd means illogical or unreasonable. The world is absurd because there is value whether we do good or evil, or if one decides to become a lawyer or a businessman. The world is indifferent to our lives and is not personally involved in anything about each individual person. To Camus, an absurd world is utterly meaningless. Applying the principle, so why would someone who is perfectly full of potential give up everything to enter the seminary or the convent where in fact, one can perfectly serve God (should one insist there is one at all) in equal respect as a married or a single person? Vatican II has made it perfectly clear that all states of life are equal in holiness. One can reach heaven without being a priest or a nun. (And I may add, it may just as well be easier to enter heaven as a lay person given the number of scandals Catholic Church face right now).

 

According to Camus, there are two ways to confront absurdity. First, he suggested suicide or ending one’s life since it is meaningless anyway. We were not consulted by the universe should we want to be humans in the first place! But the alternative way to escape meaninglessness is by doing another absurdity: by insisting a value and a purpose to one’s life. That resistance to accept meaninglessness is itself the antidote. It reminds me a famous line from the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas:

 

“Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

 

I had three friends who were some of the most passionate, intelligent, and courageous women I ever got acquainted with professionally. One is a social worker, another a professor, and another a youth minister. I have been teasing them for many years that maybe they would like to consider becoming a Good Shepherd Sister since they have been actively involved as lay mission partners. They kept on giving me the same excuse I used before – they can still serve the Lord as lay people, without necessarily becoming a religious.

 

But lo. Few days ago, I learned that they all entered the postulancy. How absurd.

 

Does God still invite people to become religious? Asked about the relevance of religious life these days, Sr. Sandra Scheiders had this answer:

 

“The vocation to the single-hearted, lifelong, exclusive-of-all-alternatives quest for God above and beyond and through and for all that one human life has to offer will continue to arise and to reverberate in some hearts. And that some will be enough — not, perhaps, to run a countrywide school system or even a diocese or to socially transform the world or society, much less the church — but to witness in this world to the absolute intimate transcendence of a God who delights to be among humans and needs humans whose incandescent love of that God will manifest God in the world.”

 

I look at my three friends and I see hope. They remind me to keep going myself.

 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

A year ago, I was already happy. For example, the non-profit organization that I have been working for the last six years asked me to take on a greater role to cover the whole Asia Pacific region. I was in a loving relationship, and we had two dogs running over our condo unit. When the pandemic started, I started my own business – I opened an online marketing firm. I was financially stable, and I enjoyed a career which I also called my life project. I was set for life, and I was living a comfortable life. Yet even in that state, I would still feel God calling me for something more, something greater than the comfort I am enjoying. I was already thirty years old, what else He could be asking from me at that point?

 

On a clear night, I could hear Him as if inviting me to love Him more radically and to trade everything for something I am not even sure if worth all the “leaving everything behind” again. If I choose to return to the seminary, I would be trading my stable life where I was the boss and the manager with a life which I must follow someone else and rely on Providence for everything I need. I thought that if I love my partner with even greater zeal and if I begin to consider my material and professional achievements as my way of honoring God, then eventually the desire for religious life would eventually die down. But God is a funny lover. There would be times in the day when it is quiet or busy, the thoughts of consecrated life would suddenly occupy my mind. In my daydreaming, it didn’t matter if I was relating to a large crowd or assigned in a barrio, the feeling was the same, a feeling that did not give the same “high” as I would feel when I was much younger.

 

I knew exactly what Soren Kierkegaard meant with his concept of dread, a kind of anxiety one experiences in the face of one’s own freedom, as he conveyed on his example of a man standing on the edge of a cliff because I was on that metaphorical cliff for an overly extended period. I was a man on a crossroads knowing that with the limited information that I have on hand, I ought to make a life-changing decision that can either turn out good or worst.

 

Oftentimes, dread stupefies the most when one has more life data and moral concepts to work on because one cannot escape seeing the choices in many points of view. I kept on delaying my return to the seminary for many reasons, both practical and personal. My position was that God will ultimately remain happy for whatever good and ethical life choice I will make, regardless of the vocation I will pick for myself. Yet, the call of the one, true, good, and beautiful God is always mysterious. He calls me to be good, but he also seems to be calling me to take one step further. But taking one step further looked too much far. At some point, I felt it too rigid that I just wanted things to unfold que sera, sera style, a form of submission to a childish determinism.

 

I confided my thoughts to my partner and between resentment and tenderness, a new form of love emerged between us – the one that lets go. We chose to part ways so I can begin the process of discerning.

 

I took discernment seriously. I consulted people, I considered pros and cons, and I even made a crude logical framework of action, a kind of outline, that I would follow regardless of my decision. Between October to December of last year, I went on backpacking together with some new-found friends. I spent months travelling to Siargao, Cebu, Baguio, and Leyte going on adventures. It was in this period that I learned many things about myself like my capacity to maintain healthy relationships, how I deal with unexpected events, how I react to them, and how much I enjoy admiring the whole of creation. It was at this point too that I related to others in a more sincere and intentional way. Everywhere I went, I witnessed how kind the simple people truly are, how generous are the poor! As I progressed through my travels, I realized that I was not a tourist anymore but a pilgrim. His mercy keeps on following and showing me its different manifestations. All those times, the last lines of Mary Oliver’s poem “The Summer Day” would constantly play in my mind:

 

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

 

I guess a leap of faith was made. Considering where I am right now, I finally took a turn and regained control of my fate in the grandest Kierkegaardian way. Wherever the path may lead from this point, I’d welcome grace and dread just the same.

(World Mission Sunday, 2018)

What does it mean to do mission today?

For the past week, I had the privilege to work with amazing people, sisters and lay, who direct the many and diverse Good Shepherd ministries in Asia Pacific region. Gathered in one place for five days are some of the maddest people I have met in my lifetime. There is Sr. Rasangi, frail looking and weighs less than fifty kilos, who lives in a small house by the sea so she can work directly with the fishing community. There is Sr. Aruna with her booming voice, lawyer by training, who has been championing better life conditions for the dalit women (the untouchables who belong to the lowest caste). There is Stella, fourth CEO in the span of two years of the programs in Australia-New Zealand and the only one crazy enough to be in her position for so long. There is Benedict from India, as big as Mr. Dursley, and Bimal from Nepal,  men with extraordinary passion in community development. And there is Sr. Lakana, with limited English in her vocabulary, working with sex workers in Thailand. From this group I remember my own colleagues and the sisters back in Philippines. We all have big dreams about the women and girls whom the society has forgotten.

We talked about how many of our ministries survive from grant to grant while some have been able to get by through diverse incomes and state funding. It is somehow true to say that the Lord gives us our daily bread, however decrepit some our shelters may look, we never lack what is necessary. God’s daily providence allows us to open development programs in communist states, operate hundreds of 24/7 safe homes and crisis intervention centers from Taipei to Colombo, free up thousands of girls from prostitution and trafficking in ports and brothels, hold demonstrations to assert the rights of disenfranchised, convince mothers that there is more to life when they dream bigger dreams, and live lives that are completely disposed to the invitation of God to be shepherds after His own heart. And the example of the sisters from the yesteryears who lived lives of constant openness and generosity have put a profound impact to me and many other lay people I have come to know as I continue working for the sisters since 2016. As I look at the faces in the room and count how many lay people have been working for the region, I am assured that the mission of the Good Shepherd started many years ago by a small daring woman in Angers, France by the name of Mary Euphrasia will continue on, with sisters or without.

It was Thursday when we went to visit the community of the elderly sisters in Negombo. The compound used to house the novitiate where they entered as young ladies full of ideals and had their training before becoming a sister. I could still see the fire in their eyes despite their infirmities. In a small room with nothing but a hospital bed, a mosquito net, a table, and few water bottles, I found Sr. Catherine, 86, who lays still and nothing but her fingers to move. For almost four decades she has been missioned to Khartoum, working with children and refugees. When she left Sri Lanka as a much younger sister, she told her superiors that the only condition she would go back is if in her physical weakness she is no longer useful to the mission. So Sr. Catherine have returned to her country only to do her final training - the arduous and beautiful process of dying gracefully. The circle of life for a Good Shepherd sister begins and ends in that novitiate. Nearby is a plot of land where many like her have been buried, their final resting place.

So if you ask me what does it mean to do mission today, it means living our lives so generously given to others that little is left of ourselves, barely recognizable, only to find final valuation in the loving gaze of God. It is not about living perfect vocations but living our chosen vocations with perfect intentions. It means being where the people are hurting the most, in places where truth is always subject to relative positions, in streets and corners of the world that need the assuring presence of the Good Shepherd who shares with our suffering and brokenness everyday.

To be a missionary today means to be broken and shared, only for God to make whole again.

If you are a missionary in any way reading this, thank you for your witnessing.

Biglaan ang dahilan ng pagpasok ko ng seminaryo, biniro ko ang Diyos na kung may bukas na seminaryo na tatanggap sa akin kahit Hunyo na ay dali dali akong papasok. Sa pagkaka-alam ko ay wala nang tumatanggap sa ganung buwan pero nagkamali ako at tinotoo ng Diyos ang kanyang biro. Naka-karton na ang mga dadalhin, nakabili na rin ng ticket na magdadala sa akin sa Baguio. Doon, magsisimula muli. Baka sakaling doon ay makakaunawa.

Lolokohin ko ang sarili ko kung hindi muna ako magpapaalam kaya lakas-loob kitang tinawagan, niyaya lumabas. Sa loob ng apat na taong naghiwalay tayo ay ako lagi ang nangungunang kumausap sa’yo. Laging ako ang una, ang laging nangungulila na kausapin ka. Kaya siguro minabuti ko na sunduin kita at maghintay. Akala ko di mo na ako sisiputin pero pagdating mo pakshet eto na, magpapaalam na ako talaga.

Dinala kita sa Intramuros, sa tuktok ng gusaling kita ang paghahalo ng ganda at yagit ng Maynila, parang feelings ko nang sinabi mo na wala kang iniibig. Pakshet again, noon din ay gusto kong punitin ang bus ticket ko at iwan lahat ng pangako ko sa Diyos. Maghunos-dili ka, Elias. Pagkatapos uminom ng isang basong tubig, naglakas-loob akong itikom ang puso ko. Hindi na pwede.

Pumayag kang ihatid kita sa inyo, katuparan sa anim taon kong hiling na malaman saan ka nakatira. Hindi mo alam na tatlong taon akong dumadaan sa Mandaluyong sa pagbabakasakaling makita kitang naglalakad. Lihim kong ikinasisiya ang maipit sa traffic sa Mandaluyong. Baka ngayon makikita ko sya. Hala tingin sa harap, tingin sa gilid, tingin sa likod. Isang beses, muntik pa akong maubusan ng gasolina. Pero sa wakas nalaman ko kung saan ka nakatira, malayong malayo sa mga dinadaanan ko. Natapos ang gabi na nahugot ang tinik na kasing haba ng tatlong taon mong pagkawala. Tinitigan ko ang mga mata mo at pawang pag-ibig na lamang ang nakikita ko dun. Pag-ibig na nagpapaubaya. Wala na ang pangungulila at pangangarap na maging tayo muli. Dun ko naramdaman na lumaya na ako. Sa haba ng pagmu-move  on ko ay narating ko rin ang dulo, ang wakas.

Kaya sa seminaryo, nagawa kong ialay ang sarili nang bukas palad, lahat lahat, todo todo. Hindi ako pumasok dahil may tinatalikuran o iniiwasan sa labas. Nemo quod non habet. Hindi mo maibibigay ang wala ka. Pumasok akong puno ng pag-ibig para maglingkod. Pero mapagbiro muli ang Diyos. Hindi ko nakita ang sarili ko na magtatagal sa seminaryo sa Baguio, kailangan kong lumipat kung gusto kong mahubog ng tama. May isa pang biro ang Diyos, May pangangailangang tugunan bilang nakatatanda sa pamilya. Ang pagpasok ko ng seminaryo na nag-iwan ng lahat lahat, eto at kailangang pulutin ko muli ang mga tinalikuran upang magtaguyod ng mga kapatid, ng pangarap ng iba, ang kumayod para sa pangarap ng iba. Hindi ba, yun din naman ang ibig ko, ang maging tao-para-sa-iba? May tunggalian sa isip ko kung ang paglabas ko ba ng seminaryo ay dahil sa responsibilidad o dahil sa pag-ibig. Paglabas ko, ang pag-ibig at responsibilidad ay may iisang mukha.

Kaya ito, nandito muli. Nandito muli sa pagsisimula. Babalik ba ako pagkatapos ng mga responsibilidad? O hahayaan ang sariling anurin ang pag-ibig kung saan man ito dumaloy at tumahan? Saka na lamang iisipin.

Sa ngayon, maghihintay, iibig.

Making a choice between good and bad often comes easy, as it normally employs the ability of our self to determine opposites. But I have learned the hard way that choosing between two good things is far more difficult. Especially if we are prompted to choose between a good and a greater good.

The past four weeks had been very eventful and I have witnessed so many. For starter, I've been to three birthdays and two funeral, all of people who are close to me.

I know of five friends who have been recently got sick, some diagnosed with HIV. 

I knew about five more sick people who are relatives of my friends.

My younger sister and her fiance are on the verge of breaking their engagement.

My youngest sister broke down with depression.

The list of woes seemed endless. I saw how my friends try to keep up with the loss of their loved ones. I saw how they stay strong in the midst of piling medical bills and sleeplessness. I saw how they broke into tears and how it broke my heart too but silently.

When our loving is tested especially by sickness and by death, it usually comes with a loss. We do our best to wrestle with the impossible, we negotiate with death, we want to obtain the best possible answers, the best cures, the best reasons for our loving. And we begin to put the welfare of the other before ourselves. That's when we begin to realize - beneath the pain of our love being tested - how to love genuinely. That to love others genuinely is by as we would love ourselves. Piercing. Total. Consuming. Tagos. Lubos. Ubos. We love until either the other or ourselves are consumed. Until we have nothing else to give but our presence.

Greater good. Often it is the most inconvenient and most painful choice between two good things. It demands too much sacrifice and gives very little pleasure.

Last night we hosted the exposure activity of six nuns who are formators in their congregations. We brought them to where we go. These nuns are so meek and delicate they almost want to cover every girl that night. But we went there to do the simplest and most profound ministry, the ministry of witnessing.

We went there not as preachers or social workers. We simply went there to be friends with them, to listen to their stories. And offer that reassuring presence that even in that most worldly and hopeless place that they call work, Jesus is there.

But you know, more than immersion is the experience of asking ourselves where is Jesus in places like this.

We let them be disturbed that night. And from being disturbed, take action.

So I’m back to the world outside the walls of the seminary. At least for a year as I intend to transfer to my local seminary and serve my local church. I know it is God who planned everything that was to happen, it was He who stirred my restlenessness and my desire to have a more authentic formation to priestly life. When I look back to those days several months ago when I was torn between staying put for the sake of stability and the urgent need to find that place where God wants me to be, I cannot but be grateful that God’s hands has been guiding me all along.

He even took care of my worries. The nuns whom I worked with before took me back after my replacement resigned. I do not have to worry about my finances for the year, plus I get to save more to support my siblings’ college fund.

Leaving meant one less person to fill the ever-shrinking population of seminaries. All around the world especially in North America and Europe convents, monasteries, and seminaries are closing due to lack of vocations. Some barely cope with the change in demographics. Gone are the days when these hallowed walls are filled to the brim with young and energetic religious. In many cases, convents and monasteries are left with aging men and women.

Such is the case with the nuns I work with at the moment whose average age is 76. With various ministries requiring so much energy, these nuns proved me that age is not just a matter of wrinkles and wobbling knees but keeping that fire of zeal in their heart, being youthful despite decades of wear and tear of life. But this must not take away the fact that their numbers are dwindling. Who would continue these good works after they are gone?

Who sends labourers to this vast field of the human world? Who decides which ones to take the role of fishers of men, of shepherds among men?

A certain nun in-charge of finding new recruits once confided to me the difficulty she faces in attracting young people to enter religious life. The work of a vocation promoter has been a more daunting task than how it was before when men and women would heed God’s invitation for them without “turning back”. While much of society has changed, the struggle to discern is made more difficult by the many attractions and distractions. Social media offers alternative happiness and opens up new and promising opportunities. The desire for wealth and power has reached new forms and expressions. Men and women who feel the desire to follow Jesus are often lured to delay, to retrofit decisions to suit convenience, and to totally abandon heeding.

While pondering on the nun’s woes, I remember the words of Yahweh to Jeremiah who worries too much: “I will give you shepherds after my own heart.” I will give you. Shepherds after my own heart. Is it not assuring that God himself promised to bring men and women to enter the religious and priestly life, that he himself will take charge of filling those convents, monasteries, and seminaries with men and women capable of so much love for the lost, the least, and the last? We may think that entering religious life is slowly becoming a thing of the past, unnecessary, irrelevant, and impractical. But the God who has been constantly loving us has made a promise that He will not leave us abandoned like sheep in barren lands.

He will send shepherds. Not just simply shepherds. But shepherds as meek and as compassionate as His son, the Good Shepherd.

So do not worry, sister. He will send us shepherds.

Last night during the Night Prayer, I took my Bible (er, it's library's actually but I kind of borrowed it last semester and never returned it) and randomly picked a passage to help me reflect on how my day went. I came across Jeremiah 1:5.

And today during Mass, I came across the same exact verse! While browsing my hymnal, there at the back of the cover was a tiny piece of paper, like a fortune cookie slip, the same verse I encountered last night which a former seminarian might have inserted just beneath the plastic cover.

"Before I formed you, I have consecrated you."

How lovely. Just when I needed affirmation the most.

At 23, I became the youngest manager in an international development organization. At 24, I was already managing a whole team responding to disasters and building resilient communities. I drive my own car, I live by myself, and I can eat as many sashimis that I want. I have traveled to many countries and cities, worked with the state and in international bodies, seen hundreds of sunsets and woke up in hundred beds that are not mine. I partied, I traveled, I drank to my limits. At 25, I'm having the best time of my life.

It was not enough. People closest to me know I never stick to one thing for a long period. I would always go for something better, something higher. I am restless.

Somewhere in my heart, I know I'm not only made to be like this person. I knew I could take this love for life to a higher level. My decision was a product of uncomfortable experiences and intense prayers. I had one month to say good bye to everyone and everything. It was difficult and very tiring to squeeze dozens of goodbye meetups while rendering extra hours at work, boxing up possessions and sending them away to different addresses, drinking and merrying and enjoying my last days as a secular man.

Thirty days ago, I made my way to Baguio. This city set in mountain ranges has a certain charm that I always like so when I was informed that the formation years will be spent in Baguio, I knew my decision was right. In exchange, my life became smaller and I don't have the remote control to everything anymore. I have to wake up daily at five in the morning, spend at least five hours in prayer, eight in studies, and the rest of the day to community activities. The food is tolerable, the accommodation minimum. I had to obey younger people and submit myself to the scrutiny of formators who may or may not decide that I shall become one of them. During the first week I had a crisis and deeply considered backing out. I don't seem to fit. I still have not fulfilled my duties to my sisters and brothers. I have big dreams and I have this insatiable proclivity to discover the world. While praying, I came across a passage that assured me. My grace is enough for you. For in your weakness, power reaches perfection. So here I am, persevering.

When Jesus asked his first disciples "follow me", sequere me, they left everything behind. Their response was radical and total. I left friends, families, possessions, a possible version of my life where I am a family man with six kids and a partner to spend the rest of my life, my little collection of everything. So now my life is being rewritten and I'm not it's author. Pray for me.

I'm happy.

Do you know what I have done to you? He then commanded, "Love one another just as I have loved you." 

- from the readings of Mass of the Last Supper, taken from the Gospel of John

I missed blogging. Or is it the friends I made here that I actually miss? I think it’s one and the same. I promise to be active again.

My current financial status is like that of the nation. But God never abandons his favorite sinner. I guess it's all a matter of how I deal my relationship with Him that he still doesn’t leave me empty. For whatever it is that keeps me alive and surviving, I credit it to God's grace. For who can survive a happiest summer without a generous payslip from the capitalist employer? When savings vanishes like the national budget, friends did not leave me. I cannot wait for the day that I would repay them for all their generosity.

That is my younger brother. I am glad he likes his school and his course. I hope we can talk in sign language soon or exchange some good book review :) See, even my poverty we can make a big change in someone's life. Haha.

I like to think that God breaks us to make us whole. Or if not, he breaks us so we can be everywhere that wind would take us. So we be that little piece of hope to someone else. With little that we have, still significantly paying forward.

As I write this post, I remember his first words as a successor of Peter: do not be afraid. His constant invitation to young people to be witnesses in today's world rings to many like a wild fire, consuming everything that touches its surface. If there is a man who have found his deepest gladness and at the same time found his heart's desire in a most absolute and final way, it would be Karol. 

Have no fear of moving into the unknown. Simply step out fearlessly knowing that [God] is with you, therefore no harm can befall you; all is very, very well. I wonder how much of a man could live in total surrender to something that eyes cannot see. As Benedict XVI puts it, a beatitude of faith like Mary's.

Today, we honor a life well lived. A life lived in total selflessness and resolution to guide a world away from Marxist ideals, apathy and tolerance. With him, people stand firm in faith, absolute to truth and to what is right. I think if Karol is still alive, he would write to the Philippine government about preserving life and upholding it's dignity. I wish he is still around.

A life totally dependent to God. A life consumed by that same fire that moved the disciples to brave stormy seas. A life that reflects life from his God. Karol Josef. John Paul. Totus tuus ego sum.

(c) Darren Villareal
Misa sa Pagtatakipsilim sa Paghahapunan ni Hesus
Abril 21, 2011
Nativity of Our Lady Parish Marikina

(c)Jay-ar Mayores
Holy Thursday Vigil
April 21,2011
Nativity of Our Lady Parish

This is to remember the dead and the living. To life, to all.

This is to remember the nameless heroes and heroines who took great leaps to serve without ceasing, to give without expecting return. To those who relied in the goodness of men, this, a thanksgiving.

A year ago, there were no Catholics nor Muslim, no richer nor poorer, just Filipinos. For this, a thanksgiving.

-----

Last night, I joined everyone is celebrating the miracle of humanity through a concert with Bukas Palad Music Ministry. Yes, I performed in a chorus. The concert is called Christify, after their new album. Christify means transforming all things to Christ, a mission everyone is called every after Mass. Because intimacy with God does not end after the Eucharist, it actually begins there. Because God is not confined in the hallowed walls, he should be known and met in the streets, on the road.

Beautiful it is to look back and move on. And learn from it. But what's more beautiful? To realize that God is with us. Hiding in thousand disguises.

It started with the attempt to understand bekimon slang in Atenean accent. On our way to the wake of a very good friend's mother, I did not miss how he, and they, comfortably talked in the gibberish and witty way. From then I realized who a man is to judge others.


So the usual condolences upon arriving. The usual sopas at zesto juice. The usual talk about which are's and who is's. From the chismis I got depressed with our parish priest's attitude towards the poor and dead. If I would consider his pathetic action as a priest, I could have gone atheist as of yesterday.


Faith, sometimes is a curious thing. And sexuality too.


I argued with W how convenience affect one's choice of belief. He is a good Catholic boy who knows his Hail Mary and Our Father. But during the conversation he told me that he is considering a more direct approach to God, without the old and boring traditions that is Catholic. I told him well, if you that would make you more of a Christian and closer to God, go ahead. But if what triggers you to jump over is because a religion does not conform with your personal wants, sexual orientation or view of what is moral and immoral, I think you are missing the point.


Personal stand points should always be considered along freedom, it should be the measure of reason because reason is relative to the application he said. Freedom is not doing what you always want I told him. It's doing what is humane and just in universal point of view. Religion is my favorite tee shirt which I would wear even if so worn and washed. If only people would think that Church an old runner trying to keep up with the pace of our times, no one would jump off the fence just because his homosexuality is considered abnormal or because she is in favor of condom and genetically modified organisms.


But it does condemn he blurted.


You know what keeps me grounded amidst all my religion's shits and that? The fact that there are more things greater than what meets my eye.


There was a short silence. Then I don't know the reason why we laughed so hard after. What I know of is W understands.

---------------------------------------
That is why we "study religion." That is why we listen
to sermons on Sunday and read Catholic book and
periodicals. It is all part of what we might call "correspondence"
with God. It is all part of our effort to know him better,
so that we may develop a love for him, grow in love with him,
and preserve our love for him.
-L.J Trese, The Purpose of Man's Existence

seven words.








This emptiness, this longing, others cannot fill.

     "Nevertheless, I stumbled through my month in treatment much as I had done the first time, just ticking off the days, hoping that something would change in me without me having to do much about it. Then one day, as my visit was drawing to an end, a panic hit me, and I realized that in fact nothing had changed in me, and that I was going back out into the world again completely unprotected. The noise in my head was deafening, and drinking was in my thoughts all the time. It shocked me to realize that here I was in a treatment center, a supposedly safe environment, and I was in serious danger. I was absolutely terrified, in complete despair.'

     At that moment, almost of their own accord, my legs gave way and I fell to my knees. In the privacy of my room, I begged for help. I had no idea who I thought I was talking to, I just knew that I had come to the end of my tether, I had nothing left to fight with. Then I remembered what I had heard about surrender, something I thought I could never do, my pride just wouldn't allow it, but I knew that on my own I wasn't going to make it, so I asked for help, and getting down on my knees, I surrendered.'

     Within a few days I realized that something had happened for me. An atheist would probably say it was just a change of attitude, and to a certain extent that's true, but there was much more to it than that. I had found a place to turn to, a place I'd always known was there but never really wanted, or needed, to believe in. From that day until this, I have never failed to pray in the morning, on my knees, asking for help, and at night to express my gratitude for my life and, most of all, for my sobriety. I choose to kneel because I feel I need to humble myself when I pray and with my ego, this is the most I can do.'

     If you are asking me why I do all of this, I will tell you ... because it works, as simple as that. In all this time that I have been sober, I have never once seriously thought of taking a drink or a drug. .... In some way, in some form, my God was always there, but now I have learned to talk to him.'

     You are never more of a mature adult than when you get down on your knees and bend humbly before something greater than yourself."


-Eric Clapton, The Autobiography, N.Y., Random House, 2007

There comes a time in everyone’s life when one has to choose between roads. Often it’s a choice between a road we already know too well, and one that’s much narrower, less familiar, bending beyond what your eyes can see. The thing is, you know you must choose—lest you remain a wanderer all your life and you simply run out of roads. Each one’s road is different. But all of us are born pilgrims: We are all meant to seek that one road that will lead us home.
It’s not an easy task, but don’t be afraid.

Johnny Go, SJ