Bereavement and Separation

The following reflection was delivered as a homily on July 12, 2004. It was exactly three months after my first experience of losing a loved one.

Not Peace but Division [A reading from the Gospel of Luke ]

⁴⁹"I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! ⁵⁰But I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is completed! ⁵¹Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division. ⁵²From now on there will be five in one family divided against each other, three against two and two against three. ⁵³They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law."

The nearest experience of separation I had was the death of my father. I have not really shared with you except for a few about this experience. I was waiting for what I thought would be the opportune time to share this with you. Now it seems very providential that our Gospel talks about just the right ingredient about this theme.

It's exactly three months now since my father passed away. Somehow, as I glance back I can regard this event as a jewel or a sign post which I will always take with me wherever I go. After three months, I could feel that my experience has matured enough, and it is no longer just for me alone but it is meant to be shared with all of you too.

My father died on Easter Sunday. I was in Beijing then, on an intensive cultural tour. I only learned about the incident three days later. It was a blessing that I was not regularly checking my e-mail because internet was expensive in the University where we stayed. Had I read the e-mail sent by my Mom informing me about the incident, it would have been unimaginably more shocking for me.

It was Fr. Tom, who finally broke the news together with the full support of my batch mates. We were busy having our dinner when I noticed Fr. Tom, Terence and Gil huddling in one corner. I thought at first Fr. Tom was divulging an intelligence report about the Chinese government who already might have known about our secret Jesuit identities. Jeff and I, clueless and wondering what was happening, were the last ones to be called.

“I received news from your sister that your father succumbed to urosepsis or blood poisoning. He passed away on Easter Sunday... Isn’t that a good time to go? For now you can ready your things and we will try to get you the earliest possible flight back to the Philippines,” Fr. Tom explained.

Overwhelmed with mixed emotions as well as very strange feelings, I did not know what words to say. I was in a temporary state of shock. When I was alone in my room the only thing that facilitated the tears to stream down was the newly bought mahjong set that I was holding close in my arms. That was my father’s last request when I last visited him at the Manila Doctors’ Hospital the night before I left for Beijing.

However, I was also surprised with my own reactions at that time because it seemed I was quite alright despite the fact that I just lost someone very close to me. I came out very strong, and in control and could still afford to crack jokes at times.

I remember vividly when my room mate Richard was watching me pack my clothes. He noticed perhaps my reactions, that was why he asked me an unguarded question, “Kuya, close ba kayo ng Dad mo?” Surprised, I immediately answered, “Siyempre naman. Bakit mo natanong yan?”

“Kasi naisip ko lang na kung ako ang nasa situwasyon mo ngayon, I think I will not be as calm as you are now. Maybe I will not be as strong.”

Then, I tried to throw back the question to him, “Ikaw kuya close rin ba kayo ng Dad mo?”

The event was a totally new and strange encounter for me. At first, it was very difficult to accept and believe. The difficulty is in the fact that you are very close to the person like flesh and blood. Someone whom you just talked to recently appears still so fully alive while recalling your latest conversation and then all of a sudden the person dies. You still vividly recall in your mind the tone of his voice, his smile, his laughter. At first it was very unimaginable too the fact that someone’s body would go through decay.

This kind of feeling persisted throughout the past weeks and months. I even consulted some of my Jesuit brothers for some healthy tips on grieving because I told myself that I cannot afford to undergo again another PSI in order to address that. Some of them have told me that the process is unique from person to person. It is like a metamorphic stage that each caterpillar has to undergo before it turns into a colorful butterfly. My father died but a part of me died also. I have undergone a phase of my life like a cocoon. And grieving is like that – a phase of the temporary life. Something has been taken away from my hands in order that I will be able to carry some more.

I guess this is the message of the Gospel for today. Separation in the family, in whatever form it will take, is unavoidable. It has to come to pass. But the irony of it all is so that we could take on greater things.

If you ask me if the strange feeling still persists until this day, it does. My father’s voice still rings a resonant tone in my mind. In fact now, I often see more and more his likeness in other people whether in the person of those whom I meet along the street, a taxi driver, a handicapped.

My father was separated or cut from me but only to be closely knitted once again in a transformed manner. And I guess we just have to learn how to become more at home with this queerness, strangeness of our God, a God of contradictions, and creative tensions.

Often for mourners, faith does not comfort; it confounds. And that we stay with our faith is what real hope is all about. James F. Keenan, SJ

A Tribute To The Trees

So much of the peace and quiet that permeate this House of Spirit come from the serene presence of the trees, which have become one of the earliest inhabitants since the foundation of the place.

These spectacular avenues of towering trees have stood witness for ages to the many weary souls, weary spirits of people who have come to seek refuge away from the madding crowd in the big cities.

Every time I pass through the long entrance of the Doyles’ Walk while looking at the canopy of leaves and branches cast against the blue sky, I hear their tranquil sounds greeting me, as if in a quiet appeal of assuring me that I will find a home in this scenic place, a sweet dwelling during the night like a traveler arriving from a tumultuous journey, a home for my restive soul and for my tired, beat body. From hindsight, these amazing creatures embody the many anthropomorphic qualities and virtues that often only in my dream of dreams will I completely be able to emulate.

Whenever I take a leisurely walk to the outlying grounds of Sacred Heart Novitiate, especially into the forested areas, I always marvel at the great variety of species of trees that have grown there unperturbed. I am fascinated by the diverse characteristics that each species has in terms of shape, height, texture, color, fragrance, and use.

Each tree is unique with its own distinctive features. The Mahogany tree which is found in almost every spot is, of its kind, the most numerous in the vicinity. This tall, heavy-looking, dark tree is valued for its hard-reddish brown wood as timber and as good furniture work. Another of this type is the Teak tree (Tekla) that surrounds the pool area. This deciduous tree can live up to 200 years reaching as high as 150 feet. However, this tree is an easy prey to loggers because of its durable wood that can be used for constructing ships, buildings, bridges, and many others.

A striking contrast to these strong, durable woods is the lowly horseradish or Malunggay tree—a soft, succulent tree found near the kitchen area. Literally, every speck of this tree is edible either as food or as medicine—the leaves, shoots, flowers, pods, roots and bark. Among all the trees I have seen around, this is the most endangered precisely because the moment it sprouts its new leaves the kitchen staff takes it relentlessly and serves it to novices and retreatants to eat.

Known as the “king of fruits” is the Mango tree. This is the novices’ favorite not only as a shade tree but mostly for its wonderfully delicious fruit that is perfect for a lavish dessert. To complete the day, there is the Kapok tree used to stuff the pillows that we snuggle on bed while sleeping at night.

Then upon waking up in the morning, I am greeted by the fresh, fragrant scent and brilliant floral displays of the Narra tree, the Crepe of Myrtle (Banaba) and the cascading Golden Shower (Kanapistola) located right at the façade of the main building.

So much of the peace and quiet that permeate this House of Spirit come from the serene presence of the trees, which have become one of the earliest inhabitants since the foundation of the place.

These spectacular avenues of towering trees have stood witness for ages to the many weary souls, weary spirits of people who have come to seek refuge away from the madding crowd in the big cities.

Every time I pass through the long entrance of the Doyles’ Walk while looking at the canopy of leaves and branches cast against the blue sky, I hear their tranquil sounds greeting me, as if in a quiet appeal of assuring me that I will find a home in this scenic place, a sweet dwelling during the night like a traveler arriving from a tumultuous journey, a home for my restive soul and for my tired, beat body. From hindsight, these amazing creatures embody the many anthropomorphic qualities and virtues that often only in my dream of dreams will I completely be able to emulate.

Whenever I take a leisurely walk to the outlying grounds of Sacred Heart Novitiate, especially into the forested areas, I always marvel at the great variety of species of trees that have grown there unperturbed. I am fascinated by the diverse characteristics that each species has in terms of shape, height, texture, color, fragrance, and use.

Each tree is unique with its own distinctive features. The Mahogany tree which is found in almost every spot is, of its kind, the most numerous in the vicinity. This tall, heavy-looking, dark tree is valued for its hard-reddish brown wood as timber and as good furniture work. Another of this type is the Teak tree (Tekla) that surrounds the pool area. This deciduous tree can live up to 200 years reaching as high as 150 feet. However, this tree is an easy prey to loggers because of its durable wood that can be used for constructing ships, buildings, bridges, and many others.

A striking contrast to these strong, durable woods is the lowly horseradish or Malunggay tree—a soft, succulent tree found near the kitchen area. Literally, every speck of this tree is edible either as food or as medicine—the leaves, shoots, flowers, pods, roots and bark. Among all the trees I have seen around, this is the most endangered precisely because the moment it sprouts its new leaves the kitchen staff takes it relentlessly and serves it to novices and retreatants to eat.

Known as the “king of fruits” is the Mango tree. This is the novices’ favorite not only as a shade tree but mostly for its wonderfully delicious fruit that is perfect for a lavish dessert. To complete the day, there is the Kapok tree used to stuff the pillows that we snuggle on bed while sleeping at night.

Then upon waking up in the morning, I am greeted by the fresh, fragrant scent and brilliant floral displays of the Narra tree, the Crepe of Myrtle (Banaba) and the cascading Golden Shower (Kanapistola) located right at the façade of the main building.

I move farther into the grounds to pray and I feel mesmerized under this giant Banyan tree. I am dwarfed by the mystery and sacredness behind this huge, ancient tree. It has that distinctive habit of eternally looking up into the sky while letting its roots hang down like strings and tassels to reach for the ground.

I can go on and on and share more about my discoveries but I think these are quite enough to lead me to the focal point of my reflection. From a backdrop of these diverse characteristics that I have seen, what stands out to my attention is the one quality that is shared by them all. This, also, is their secret why they remain lush and enticing to my senses, a secret to why they exude a quiet, tranquil presence. The one secret quality of these trees is their utter largesse and gratuity.

These trees condescend and bend to provide for their masters’ needs. What is very striking to me is that they grow much healthier only when they give, when they bloom to give color to the surrounding, when they bear fruit which in turn will be passed on to the birds for sowing in far-off barren field. The more they give out oxygen, the more they become lush and green. With the many needs I have, I realize that I am just a breath away from these marvelous creatures.

But there is still one type of tree I know and which I cannot forego to describe for now. This tree has stood for more than 2000 years of its existence and it continues to live. It still bears the nail marks that have gotten through its trunk and branches. Except for its age, there is really nothing extraordinary about this tree; in fact only criminals are hung to die on this tree. Criminal’s blood is splattered all over its rough surface making it so grim and ugly to look at.

This tree has only torn branches, old and shabby, and worn to shreds. But, Oh God, it is this tree that bore the Fruit that saved the whole world, this is the great tree that restored life to me, this tree is the reason for everything that I am now and will be in the future. I will forever kiss the Tree of the Cross with reverent lips, and I will forever embrace it with my own outstretched and empty hands, and thrust it closer to my yearning heart.

The above reflection yielded from my prayers during my 8-day retreat that formally closed my two years of noviceship in Sacred Heart Novitiate. This summarizes also my own experience of the Cross, which has shown and taught me what it means to be generous. For the life that I am now to embrace is a lifetime of giving, and of ever giving some more until there is already nothing left to give. (May 2003)

Young Virtuoso: Master Benjie Boo Plays Jesuit Music

Have you ever been to a concert that captivated both your heart and soul because the performance was not merely one of spectacle, but of miracle? The event, unlike any show, was something that appeared inexplicable by the laws of nature, supernatural in origin and not possible by mere human efforts but only by God’s.
This was my feeling last night at the Meralco Theater while listening to the music played by a barely five feet tall Benjie Boo of Singapore. It was a miracle seeing a mere 13 year-old boy play look-Ma-no-score pieces of the piano masters before a flabbergasted audience. No one would think that a delicate, fragile and docile looking boy could be at par with virtuoso pianists. The heart of the matter, which makes Benjie cut above the rest, is that he plays by ear and he is averse to studying music in the theory-confining way. He started playing at the tender age of three. All he had to do was listen. No wonder his renditions always captivate the audience both heart and soul because Benjie listens with an ear of the heart to the summons of his soul.

Where to is Benjie Boo’s genius in music tendered?

This wunderkind in his innocence has ever been grateful for his giftedness. He performs for endowment and charity fund drive because he believes that much has been given him and he wants to share it with those who have none.

Benjie Boo Plays Our Song

Yet the evening was not as soulful until Boo started the second part by playing songs that are nearest to our hearts: Panalangin sa Pagiging Bukas Palad, Awit ng Paghahangad, Papuri, Balang Araw, Gandang Sinauna at Sariwa, and Humayo’t Ihayag. The concert closed with Fr. Manoling Francisco’s Tanging Yaman that was evocatively sang by Ding Mercado. The lyrics of the song fully captured the meaning, the wisdom of why all of us present at the concert last night were gathered to witness this awe inspiring event. It was a testament to God’s abiding love which abounds with beautiful gifts, possibilities and perduring hope amidst our longings and brokenness. My word of thanks to God Loves Community for etching in the memory of my heart this beautiful encounter. I pray for God’s loving providence in all your community undertakings.


TANGING YAMAN

Philip Gan – Manoling Francisco, SJ

KORO: Ikaw ang aking tanging yaman,
Na di lubusang masumpungan.
Ang nilikha Mong kariktan, sulyap ng 'Yong kagandahan.

1. Ika'y hanap sa t'wina, nitong pusong Ikaw lamang ang saya.
Sa ganda ng umaga, nangungulila sa 'Yo, Sinta. (KORO)

2. Ika'y hanap sa t'wina, sa kapwa ko Kita laging nadarama.
Sa Iyong mga likha, hangad pa ring masdan ang 'Yong mukha.

The Wisdom of God

The Wisdom of God said,"I will send them prophets and apostles, some of whom they will kill and persecute." When I was reflecting on the smiting words of Jesus in the gospel reading today, I was brought to ask myself the following questions: What does it mean to be a prophet or messenger of God at the time of Jesus? What does it mean when God sends someone and instructs him to broadcast a message of warning to his people?

The first image then that came to my imagination was that of bloodshed. It was the fate of the many prophets in the bible who carried out such a perilous mission to die in the hands of those they minister to. Many of them were stoned to death, beheaded, skinned or burned alive at the stake. That was the reason also why many, if not all of them, accepted their mission [as Nuncio of God] with great repulsion.

Taking a closer reading at what God said, I will send… prophets and apostles… whom they will kill… because the message that they preached bore bombshells, disasters, dangerous exposes and sometimes coupled with threats that if the people will not repent they will suffer the consequences. No wonder all these poor messengers of God were immediately exterminated as soon as they relayed the message. Those who were being admonished by the prophets were not only great denial kings and queens but it brought out the worst, and the prophet-slaughterers within them.

The matter of fact is that God's invitation is concretized in the voice of the prophets. That voice did not come like a soothing music to the ears of the people but instead it stimulated wrath and rage. It earned rejection and martyrdom because they spoke for God rather than for human affirmations, approvals, praises and name whatever you like for that matter.

So I continued in my meditation and ask myself personally, where can I find these messengers today? Have their race been all successfully eliminated in human history? If yes, has someone or something taken on such dangerous job to warn and summon every individual like myself to go back to God? What are now the contemporary mediums or interventions of God’s invitation to me as a Jesuit, as someone who claims to be a faithful follower and companion of Jesus? How does he communicate to me in my day to day grind? Does God’s bidding come across in my relationships with friends, foes, with my superiors? My joys and proclivities, my struggles, longings and pains? Am I like the people in the olden times who only would like to hear affirmations and approvals and close their ears to the rejections and denunciations? Am I also a killer of the messengers that God, in his great generosity, has sent to come to my aid? How have I then heedfully or perhaps grudgingly responded and listened to the biddings within and without?

Lord thank You for disturbing us always in our complacencies. We know that You always want us to be fixed firmly in Your presence, but Your wisdom, Your mysterious way of fulfilling this is still the best among our many human endeavors.

Journey To The Heart

The story of life, if I am to choose between the short form and the long form, it takes the long and winding form. Life always takes the longer part of the journey where precious things could grow and be, where love and patience could take deep roots within our empty recesses, where time could be allowed to change us, fortify us and heal us. A story is not without its winding paths, conflicts and contradictions, people coming and people going. A story is not without being torn in different directions and pulled at every side. The tension pushes us forward always to find a dwelling within the landscape that is always moving at times to a familiar rhythm but at other times a hostile one. But the landscape forever remains an enigma to us.

The journey is a long one, which no one can outlive. No one returns from the journey to tell the whole story about what is there at the end of the trail. Yet on our own we have just been allowed to wander far in our limited reason, to attempt to know all that there is to know and master the world and comprehend its minute parts. And we bore fruits from our laborious efforts to give meaning to what we call “our” world.

After wandering far, there comes a time when we arrive at the threshold and frontier. We realize we can only reason so far. We journey without really knowing; most of the days we journey with our eyes closed. If we cannot know what is in store for us in each tomorrow, then how much less do we know about what lies at the end.

Journeying Together

Beyond what I can know there is an other who refuses to be grasped, to be totalized, to be reduced to my comprehension. I cannot help it and it is too overwhelming for me to fathom. I get decentered along the path only to realize I am not treading it by myself. I do not carry the other on my back, nor do I trample upon them. Together we walk just allowing each one to be. But, Oh God! i find them all unique and different.

What about philosophy? Yes, at a particular point in my journey I stopped but philosophy afforded me with not just physical sight but with vision which is the only one that can give me direction. It is a vision that is not blurred by what is, by what could have been, by what I want to be, by categories, by personal whims or by credentials, failures and achievements. The vision is more directed to why things are, a vision that is directed not just toward the given but toward the giver—the Other who is. The vision is humble and limited which can cast light on the road only at particular periods of time. It is vision when despite the darkness that surrounds, despite the overabundance of this darkness and absurdity there is hope of something awaiting me.

The road is deeply enriching and illuminating and I am mobilized by my desire to tread this path. After all, the journey is a journey to one’s heart. The Silence of the unfathomable tomorrow, the Silence and nakedness of the Other, of what is at the end of the road beckons me to journey to my heart, to hope, to surrender, to love.

Let me quote a wise saying from Fr. Guido Arguelles, S.J. which best summarizes what I have so far brought to light,

If you have no hope, good luck! If you have no faith, get lost! If you have no love, drop dead, baby!

by J.M. Manzano