Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Let the Truth Speak
Truth does need any sugar-coating to make it more delectable. Truth tells it is as it is. Everybody wants to know it; and everybody wants to hide it. Especially the powerful cheats and corrupt liars.
But, even if the powerful would want to destroy it by muzzling it with their seeming superiority; even if the cheat would want to cover it by telling lies and more lies against it, truth outlives the liars and their lies, the powerful manipulators and their machinations.
Truth can be hidden, but for a while. It has a life of its own. It has a power that even the most powerful cannot match.
Truth outlives all of us.
Truth is feared by those who profit from their lies. Truth is detested by those who cheat.
Especially those who are entrusted with “public trust” and who work for “public service”. It is they who must respect it, live it, protect it, defend it. But woe to them who shamelessly manipulate the meaning of “trust” and disregard the magnificence of “service” while declaring their loyalty only to themselves and call it “public good”. They lie!
Only history can judge the period we are in. But today, it may suffice to say: we have become a nation of cheats, when it seems the only way to pass an exam is to leak the questions, and provide the answers to the examiners! Where cheats are rewarded, not punished. Where superiority in numbers has become the standard for “truth” and “morality” (and we call it the “democratic way”).
Let the truth speak what it knows!
But, why be afraid of what it knows?
Unless one is a cheat. A liar.
(Breaking News Headline: House panel junks impeach rap vs. Arroyo)
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Alone
The wake was at the Mt. Carmel Chapel near the parish church. Her relatives and friends went to pay their last respects to her, even if for one night only. There were many who attended the funeral mass, and interment. Two others who died were prayed for during the mass.
Her body was found days after she died.
She died.
In her house.
Alone.
Her body was found days after she died.
She died.
In her house.
Alone.
Friday, August 04, 2006
The Priest (Michel Quoist)
On this feast of St. John Vianney, patron of parish priests, a prayer of Michel Quoist from his book "Prayers" is most appropriate.
. . . . . . . . .
"People ask a great deal of their priest, and they should. But they should also understand that it is not easy to be a priest. He has given himself in all the ardor or youth, yet he still remains a man, and every day the man in him tries to take back what he has surrendered. It is a continual struggle to remain completely at the service of Christ and of others.
A priest needs no praise or embarassing gifts; what he needs is that those committed to his charge should, by loving their fellows more and more, prove to him that he has not given his life in vain. And as he remains a man, he may need, once in a while, a delicate gesture of disinterested friendship... some Sunday night when he is alone.
*
"Come with me, and I will make you fishers of men." (Mark 1,17).
"You did not choose me: I chose you. I appointed you to go on and bear fruit that shall last..." (John 15, 16)
"Forgetting what is behind me, and reaching out for that which lies ahead, I press towards the goal to win the prize which is God's call to the life above, in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3, 13-14).
*
Tonight, Lord, I am alone.
Little by little the sounds died down in the church.
The people went away,
And I came home,
Alone.
I passed people who were returning from a walk.
I went by the movie house that was disgorging its crowd.
I skirted cafe terraces where tired strollers were trying to prolong the pleasure
of a Sunday holiday.
I bumped into youngsters playing on the sidewalk,
Youngsters, Lord,
Other people's youngsters, who will never be my own.
Here I am, Lord,
Alone.
The silence troubles me,
The solitude oppresses me.
. . . . . . . . . .
Lord, I'm thirty-five years old,
A body made like others,
Arms ready for work,
A heart meant for love,
But I've given you all.
It's true, of course, that you needed it.
I've given you all, but it's hard, Lord.
It's hard to give one's body; it would like to give itself to others.
It's hard to love everyone and to claim no one.
It's hard to shake a hand and not want to retain it.
It's hard to inspire affection, only to give it to you.
It's hard to be nothing to oneself in order to be everything to others.
It's hard to be like others, among others, and to be other.
It's hard always to give without trying to receive.
It's hard to seek out others and to be, oneself, unsought.
It's hard to suffer from the sins of others, and yet be obliged to hear and bear them.
It's hard to be told secrets, and be unable to share them.
It's hard to carry others and never, even for a moment, be carried.
It's hard to sustain the feeble and never be able to lean on one who is strong.
It's hard to be alone,
Alone before everyone,
Alone before the world,
Alone before suffering,
death,
sin.
*
Son, you are not alone,
I am with you;
I am you.
For I needed another human instrument to continue my Incarnation and my Redemption.
Out of all eternity, I chose you,
I need you.
I need your hands to continue to bless,
I need your lips to continue to speak,
I need your body to continue to suffer,
I need your hearts to continue to love,
I need you to continue to save.
Stay with me, son.
*
Here I am, Lord;
Here is my body,
Here is my heart,
Here is my soul.
Grant that I may be big enough to reach the world,
Strong enugh to carry it,
Pure enough to embrace it without wanting to keep it.
Grant that I may be a meeting-place, but a temporary one,
A road that does not end in itself, because everything to be gathered there, everyting human, leads toward you.
Lord, tonight, while all is still and I feel sharply the sting of solitude,
While men devour my soul and I feel incapable of satisfying their hunger,
While the whole world presses on my shoulders with all its weight of misery and sin,
I repeat to you my "yes" -- not in a burst of laughter, but slowly, clearly, humbly,
Alone, Lord, before you,
In the peace of the evening.
- Michel Quoist, 1954, France.
. . . . . . . . .
"People ask a great deal of their priest, and they should. But they should also understand that it is not easy to be a priest. He has given himself in all the ardor or youth, yet he still remains a man, and every day the man in him tries to take back what he has surrendered. It is a continual struggle to remain completely at the service of Christ and of others.
A priest needs no praise or embarassing gifts; what he needs is that those committed to his charge should, by loving their fellows more and more, prove to him that he has not given his life in vain. And as he remains a man, he may need, once in a while, a delicate gesture of disinterested friendship... some Sunday night when he is alone.
*
"Come with me, and I will make you fishers of men." (Mark 1,17).
"You did not choose me: I chose you. I appointed you to go on and bear fruit that shall last..." (John 15, 16)
"Forgetting what is behind me, and reaching out for that which lies ahead, I press towards the goal to win the prize which is God's call to the life above, in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3, 13-14).
*
Tonight, Lord, I am alone.
Little by little the sounds died down in the church.
The people went away,
And I came home,
Alone.
I passed people who were returning from a walk.
I went by the movie house that was disgorging its crowd.
I skirted cafe terraces where tired strollers were trying to prolong the pleasure
of a Sunday holiday.
I bumped into youngsters playing on the sidewalk,
Youngsters, Lord,
Other people's youngsters, who will never be my own.
Here I am, Lord,
Alone.
The silence troubles me,
The solitude oppresses me.
. . . . . . . . . .
Lord, I'm thirty-five years old,
A body made like others,
Arms ready for work,
A heart meant for love,
But I've given you all.
It's true, of course, that you needed it.
I've given you all, but it's hard, Lord.
It's hard to give one's body; it would like to give itself to others.
It's hard to love everyone and to claim no one.
It's hard to shake a hand and not want to retain it.
It's hard to inspire affection, only to give it to you.
It's hard to be nothing to oneself in order to be everything to others.
It's hard to be like others, among others, and to be other.
It's hard always to give without trying to receive.
It's hard to seek out others and to be, oneself, unsought.
It's hard to suffer from the sins of others, and yet be obliged to hear and bear them.
It's hard to be told secrets, and be unable to share them.
It's hard to carry others and never, even for a moment, be carried.
It's hard to sustain the feeble and never be able to lean on one who is strong.
It's hard to be alone,
Alone before everyone,
Alone before the world,
Alone before suffering,
death,
sin.
*
Son, you are not alone,
I am with you;
I am you.
For I needed another human instrument to continue my Incarnation and my Redemption.
Out of all eternity, I chose you,
I need you.
I need your hands to continue to bless,
I need your lips to continue to speak,
I need your body to continue to suffer,
I need your hearts to continue to love,
I need you to continue to save.
Stay with me, son.
*
Here I am, Lord;
Here is my body,
Here is my heart,
Here is my soul.
Grant that I may be big enough to reach the world,
Strong enugh to carry it,
Pure enough to embrace it without wanting to keep it.
Grant that I may be a meeting-place, but a temporary one,
A road that does not end in itself, because everything to be gathered there, everyting human, leads toward you.
Lord, tonight, while all is still and I feel sharply the sting of solitude,
While men devour my soul and I feel incapable of satisfying their hunger,
While the whole world presses on my shoulders with all its weight of misery and sin,
I repeat to you my "yes" -- not in a burst of laughter, but slowly, clearly, humbly,
Alone, Lord, before you,
In the peace of the evening.
- Michel Quoist, 1954, France.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
"Father, I betted on Jueteng!"
"Father, I betted on Jueteng!"
It was almost too good to be true! I heard the confessions of some parishioners today. The sin that was acknowledged and promised not to do it again brought an unexpected "Thank You, God" from me.
There I was sitting in the confessinal box when this parishioner knelt and said the usual prayers.
"My sins are..."
"I betted on Jueteng!"
I have been in the parish for a little more than three years. This was the first confession that I heard which mentioned that betting on Jueteng was a sin. Although, it came as a surprise to me, it was not unexpected.
The Parish had embarked on a massive anti-Jueteng campaign. This advocacy has three major components: Information Campaign on jueteng. "Walang Tataya!" campaign. Signature Campaign.
Partial signatures that we had gathered were already submitted to the Mayor. It was presented by the many anti-Jueteng advocates of the town, and so many concerned citizens. About five hundred students, young and old people, the parish lay leaders. The letter explicitly mentions that since Jueteng is an illegal activity, then the law which prohibits it should be enforced strictly. The Mayor said he was against jueteng and instructed the Chief of Police to enforce the law.
I am waiting for positive results with hopeful anticipation!
Our catechists and lay leaders have been going around trying to explain the truth about jueteng: it is a vice, a sin, a corrupt and corrupting evil!
Today, somebody confessed, and acknowledged that it is so.
It was almost too good to be true! I heard the confessions of some parishioners today. The sin that was acknowledged and promised not to do it again brought an unexpected "Thank You, God" from me.
There I was sitting in the confessinal box when this parishioner knelt and said the usual prayers.
"My sins are..."
"I betted on Jueteng!"
I have been in the parish for a little more than three years. This was the first confession that I heard which mentioned that betting on Jueteng was a sin. Although, it came as a surprise to me, it was not unexpected.
The Parish had embarked on a massive anti-Jueteng campaign. This advocacy has three major components: Information Campaign on jueteng. "Walang Tataya!" campaign. Signature Campaign.
Partial signatures that we had gathered were already submitted to the Mayor. It was presented by the many anti-Jueteng advocates of the town, and so many concerned citizens. About five hundred students, young and old people, the parish lay leaders. The letter explicitly mentions that since Jueteng is an illegal activity, then the law which prohibits it should be enforced strictly. The Mayor said he was against jueteng and instructed the Chief of Police to enforce the law.
I am waiting for positive results with hopeful anticipation!
Our catechists and lay leaders have been going around trying to explain the truth about jueteng: it is a vice, a sin, a corrupt and corrupting evil!
Today, somebody confessed, and acknowledged that it is so.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Haven
The parish church, in almost all the old towns in the Philippines, is located at the very center of the poblacion. Major streets connect to the church grounds and premises. In the same way as the major activities are centered in the church!
It is not surprising that the parish church also attracts all kinds of people. As a haven, of sorts.
There is the old woman who ALWAYS carries a sack with her. Every afternoon without fail at around 4:30 PM, she enters the church, and goes first to the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I am not sure what she does there but she usually brings out her hankerchief and wipes it at the feet of the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Then she goes to the sanctuary, leaves her slippers just at the foot of the stairs, and proceeds to the back of the sanctuary passing by the side door. Until, I do not know what she does there. But she goes out after a few minutes, sits on the celebrant's chair, and quietly rests for a while.
Then she leaves the church. Until the next day, when she does the same things again.
It is not surprising that the parish church also attracts all kinds of people. As a haven, of sorts.
There is the old woman who ALWAYS carries a sack with her. Every afternoon without fail at around 4:30 PM, she enters the church, and goes first to the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I am not sure what she does there but she usually brings out her hankerchief and wipes it at the feet of the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Then she goes to the sanctuary, leaves her slippers just at the foot of the stairs, and proceeds to the back of the sanctuary passing by the side door. Until, I do not know what she does there. But she goes out after a few minutes, sits on the celebrant's chair, and quietly rests for a while.
Then she leaves the church. Until the next day, when she does the same things again.
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