Silent Dewdrops

1000++ to petition for a "Ninoy and Cory Aquino Day of Prayer and Reflection"

2009-08-11T22:21:00.003+08:00

1000++ to petition for a "Ninoy and Cory Aquino Day of Prayer and Reflection"

I am happy to announce that we have just reached the 1000th membership of our cause since the death of Tita Cory last August 1.

Just as the reality sinks in, each goes back to his or her day to day routine. Each of us look at each other and say, ''Did not our hearts burn within us, not only during the past days but during all those years when Ninoy and Cory spent their lives with us so selflessly, and when they opened to us the true meaning of what is to live and die for one's people?''

May we continue to rise up to this national and very historical occasion together with our fellow Filipinos and with every woman and man of goodwill; and reminisce the heroic legacy of the couple.

In times like this, what our country needs is to pray just as Ninoy and Cory did. There is an inner treasure hidden underneath the People Power revolution that is now just starting to take shape in the heart of every person. The chance to go through this inner transformation awaits everyone of us. But this beautiful chance rests in the hand of each one of us.

Let the flame and the fire continue to burn. Share to a friend how you were touched by their lives these past days. Grab every opportunity how we can keep the spirit alive. Again, "there is an inner treasure hidden underneath the People Power revolution that is now just starting to take shape in the heart of every person."

Continue inviting and praying for the gift of Ninoy and Cory to bear further fruit for the present generation and for the many more to come.

Homily of Fr. Catalino Arévalo, S.J.

2009-08-07T17:14:00.003+08:00

If I may first ask pardon for what might be an unseemly introduction. In the last days of President Cory’s illness, when it seemed inevitable that the end would come, the assignment to give this homily was given to me. By Ms Kris Aquino, in fact. She reminded me that many times and publicly, her mother had said she was asking me to preach at her funeral Mass. Always I told her I was years older, and would go ahead of her, but she would just smile at this. Those who knew Tita Cory knew that when she had made up her mind, she had made up her mind.

What then is my task this morning? I know for certain that if liturgical rules were not what they are, she would have asked Congressman Ted Locsin to be here in my place. No one has it in him to speak as fittingly of Cory Aquino in the manner and measure of tribute she uniquely deserves, no one else as he. Asked in an interview she said that the address before the two Houses of Congress at Washington she considered perhaps the supreme shining moment of her life. We know who helped her with those words with which she conquered America. These last few days, too, every gifted writer in the press and other media has written on her person and political history, analyzed almost every side of her life and achievement as our own “icon of democracy”. More powerfully even, images of her and of EDSA UNO have filled hour after hour of TV time. Really, what else is left to be said?

So, Tita Cory, you’ll forgive me if I don’t even try to give a shadow of the great oration that should be given here this morning. Let me instead try to say some things the people who persevered for hours on end in the serried lines at Ortigas or here in Intramuros can (I hope) more easily follow. This is a lowly tribute at one with “the old sneakers and clothes made tighter by age, soaked by water and much worse for wear” of the men, women and children who braved the rain and the sun because they wanted to tell you, even for a brief and hurried moment, how much they love you. You truly ”now belong among the immortals”. But these words are for those mortals who with bruised hearts have lost “the mother of a people”. Maybe less elegantly than the seminarian said to me Monday, they would like to say also: “She was the only true queen our people have ever had, and she was queen because we knew she truly held our hearts in the greatness and the gentleness of her own.”

One of my teachers used to tell us that if we really wanted to know and understand a position held, we would have to learn it from someone fully committed to it. Just as only one who genuinely loves a person, really knows him or her also. So to begin with, I turned to three real “experts on Cory”; to ask them where for them the true greatness of Cory Aquino lay. My first source thought it was in her selflessness, seen above all in her love of country - surely above self; yes, even above family. Her self-giving, then, for us; what she had received, all became gift for us. The second, thought it was in her faith her greatness lay, in her total trust in God which was also her greatest strength. And the third said it was in her courage and the unshakable loyalty that went with it. It was a strength others could lean on; it never wavered; it never broke. . . . . . Cory’s selflessness and self-giving; her faith (the Holy Father just called it “unwavering”); her courage, her strength. -- May I use this short list to frame what I will say? O, let me name my experts now, if I may. They were three, all of them women close to her: Maria Elena Aquino Cruz, whom we know as Ballsy, Maria Aurora Aquino Abellada, Pinky to her friends; and Victoria Elisa Aquino Dee, Viel to the family. Kris and Noynoy are the public figures; they can speak for themselves. I hope they will forgive me that I did not ask.

First, then, her generous selflessness. For us this morning what is surely most to the point is her love of country. When her final illness was upon her already, she said, -- most recently at the Greenmeadows chapel (her last public words, I think) --that she was offering her suffering, first to God, then for our people. I heard that grandson Jiggy asked her why first for country and people, and she said that always the priority line-up was God, our country and our people, and then family. On radio, the other night, the commentator asked an old woman in line why she stood hours in the rain to get into La Salle. “Ito lang ang maibibigay ko po sa kanya, bilang pasasalamat.” “Bakit, ano ba ang ibinigay ni Cory sa inyo?” “Di po ba ang buhay nya? Ang buong sarila nya? At di po ba ang pagasa? Kaya mahal na mahal po namin siya.” Early on, on TV, they ran many times the clip from a last interview. She says, “I thank God, and then all of you, for making me a Filipino, for making me one of you. I cherish this as one of the truly great gifts I have received.” A few weeks from her death, she could say that; without put-on or the least insincerity. “I thank you, for making me one of you..”

Her selflessness, her self-gift. Pope Benedict likes to say that the God whom Jesus Christ revealed to us, is Father. A Father who is wholly self-gift; the God “whose nature is to give Himself” – to give Himself to us, in His Son. And, the Pope says, that is what is the meaning of Jesus and the life of Jesus, and, by discipleship, what the Christian’s life is meant to be. We Christians too, we must give ourselves away in the self-giving of love. “Ang buhay po nya at sarili. Kaya po mahal na mahal namin sya.” In the last days, when finally and reluctantly still she admitted she had much pain, I kept thinking that only a couple of weeks before, for the first time publicly, she said that she was offering it up first of all for us.”

Secondly, her faith. Pinky says, it was her mother’s greatest strength; it was what was deepest in her. Her faith was her bedrock, and it was, bedrock . Frederick Buechner the ordained minister and novelist likes to say that through his lifetime, he’s had many doubts, even deep doubt, daily doubts. “But I have never really looked down into the deep abyss and seen only nothing. Somehow I have known, that underneath all the shadows and the darkness, there are the everlasting arms.” I think Cory’s faith was like that, not in the multiplicity of doubts (even if. in a life so filled with trial, there surely were doubts too), but in the certainty of the everlasting arms. More than once she told me, “Every time life painted me into a corner, with seemingly no escape, I always turned to Him in trust. I knew He would never abandon us if we trusted in Him. And you know, somehow, He found a way out for us.” And so Pinky says, “Mom was always calm even in the most trying times. She trusted God would always be there for us, She was our source of strength. She made this world seem so much safer and less cruel for us. And now that our source of strength is gone, we have to make our faith something more like hers. But we know in our hearts that in every storm she will watch over us from heaven.”

Within this faith was her devotion to Mary, the place Our Lady of Fatima and the rosary held in her life. All we can say on this, this morning is that Our Lady truly had a special, living presence in her life: Mary was, for Cory, true mother and incomparable friend; as we say in the hymn, - vita, dulcedo et spes, - life, sweetness and hope. No, Mary was not the center of her faith, but its air, its atmosphere; and the rosary, her lifeline through every trial and crisis. In the long harsh months of her illness, Sister Lucia’s beads almost never left her hands. She was holding them, as last Saturday was dawning and her years of exile were at last done, when we know her Lady “showed unto her, the blessed fruit of her womb.”

Lastly. Her courage, her strength. Her children tell us that their father was only able to do what he wanted to do, because her loyalty and her support for his purposes was total, so she practically raised them up as a single parent. Ninoy himself wrote, again and again, that he endured imprisonment and persecution, leaning so much on her courage and love. And after his death, when she could have withdrawn in a way “safely”, to her own life with her children at last, she stayed on her feet and fought on in the years that followed, through the snap elections and what went before and after them, through her presidency and the seven coup attempts which tried to bring her down. Even after she had given up her rule, could she not have said “enough”, and we would all have understood? But with not the least desire for position or power again, whenever she thought the spaces of freedom and the true good of our land were threatened, she went back to the streets of struggle again. Once again she led us out of the apathy we so readily fall into; once again she called us out of our comfort zones to the roads of sacrifice.

Here, even hesitantly, may I add one trait, one virtue, -- to those her daughters have named? One day Cardinal Stephen Kim of South Korea asked if he might visit her. Through Ballsy, she said Yes. It was a day Malacanang was ‘closed’; they were making up the roster of members of the forthcoming Constitutional Convention. Someone from the palace staff ordered us turned away when we came; it was Ballsy who rescued us. Stephen Kim, hero and saint to his own people,--perhaps, along with Cardinal Sin, one the two greatest Asian Catholic prelates of our time,- = spent some 45 minutes talking with her. When we were on our way back, he said, “I know why the Lord has entrusted her with power, at this most difficult time. … It is because she is pure of heart. She has no desire for power; even now it is with reluctance she takes it on. And she has done this only because she wants to do whatever she can for your people.” He said, “she truly moves me by the purity of her spirit. God has given a great gift to your people.”

With this purity of heart, in the scheme of the Christian Gospel, there is joined another reality which really, only the saints understand. It is suffering. How often (it is really often; over and over through the years) she spoke of suffering as part of her life. Much contemporary spirituality speaks of suffering almost as the epitome of all evil. But in fact for all the saints, it is a mystery they themselves do not really understand nor really explain, Yet they accept it quietly, simply as part of their lives in Christ. There is only one painting she ever gave me. Kris said then, when her mom gave it to me, that it was her mom’s favorite. The painting carries 1998 as its date; Cory named it “Crosses and roses” There are seven crosses for the seven months and seven weeks of her beloved Ninoy’s imprisonment, and for the seven attempted coups during her presidency, and many roses, multi-colored roses all around them. At the back of the painting, in her own hand, she wrote a haiku of her own: “Crosses and roses/ make my life more meaningful./ I cannot complain.” Often she spoke of her “quota of suffering.” When she spoke of her last illness, she said: “I thought I had filled up my quota of suffering, but it seems there is no quota. I look at Jesus, who was wholly sinless: how much suffering he had to bear for our sakes.” And in her last public talk (it was at Greenmeadows chapel), the first time she spoke of her own pain: “I have not asked for it, but if it is meant to be part of my life still, so be it. I will not complain.” “I try to join it with Jesus’ pain and offering. For what it’s worth, I am offering it up for our people.” Friends here present, I tell you honestly I hesitated before going into this, this morning. But without it, part of the real Cory Aquino would be kept from view. Quite simply, this was integral to the love she bore for her people.

At this point, may I, following the lead Mr Rapa Lopa has given, just speak a word of thanks to President Cory’s children, who shared so much of her service and her sacrifice. They have almost never had their father and mother for themselves. For so many years, they have been asked to share Ninoy and Cory with all of us. And because of the blood and the spirit their parents have passed on to them, they too gave with generosity and grace the sacrifices we demanded of them. – Ballsy and Pinky, Viel and Kris, your husbands and your children, and Senator Noynoy, may we thank you this morning from all our hearts, and may we offer also the gratitude of the hearts of a people now forever in your debt.

In have used up all my time, some of you will say, and I have not even approached the essential: her political life, that she was our nation’s unique icon of democracy, that Cory Aquino who, throughout the world. was TIME magazine’s 1986’s woman of the year, she who led the ending of the dictatorship that had ruined our nation, the bearer of liberation, of freedom, and of hope for a prostrate people. So, by your leave, may I add one item, along this line at last. In October 1995, Milano’s Catholic University, conferred on her the doctorate honoris causa in the political sciences (incidentally, only her twenty-third honorary degree). This was only the fifth time this particular one had been given since the university’s inception: the first time to an Asian, the first ever to a woman. She wanted, at the end of her lectio magistralis, to spell out, perhaps for the first time with some explicitness and completeness, her personal political creed. She listed seven basic beliefs which, regarding political life , she said she tried to live by. Then she spoke of one more, “one more I may not omit.” Perhaps the paragraph which followed is worth citing here, even without comment, because it has something to say to our present hour.

(We cite her words now.) I believe that the vocation of politics must be accepted by those who take up the service of leadership as a vocation in its noblest meaning: it demands all of life. For the life of one who would lead his or her people, -- in our time as never before, -- such a life must strive for coherence with the vision aspired to, or else that vision itself and its realization are already betrayed. That vision must itself be present, in some authentic way, in those who seek to realize it: present, in the witness of their example; present, in a purity of heart vis-à-vis the exercise and usages of power; present, in an ultimate fidelity to principle, in a dedication that is ready to count the cost in terms of “nothing less than everything.” It is Cardinal Newman, I believe, who said that in this world, we do good only in the measure that we pay for it in the currency of our own lives. For us Christians, there is always the image of Jesus, and the price his service demanded of him. And for me there has been, as a constant reminder, the sacrifice my husband offered, and the word that it has spoken, to me and my people.” (Cory Aquino, end of citation)

Conclusion

With all this said, I am done. Ma’am, tapos na po ang assignment ko. It has been so hard to do what you asked. But I comfort myself that these so many words really do not matter. What counts in the end is really – what all this week has been; these past few days’ outpouring of our people’s gratitude and love; what will come after all this today; what we will do, in the times ahead, in fidelity to your gift. I received a text last night from a man of some age and with some history behind him. “She made me proud again, to be Filipino.” Maybe that says it all., Cardinal Sin used to put it somewhat differently. “What a gift God has given our people, in giving Cory Aquino to us.” The nobility and courage of your spirit, the generosity of your heart, the grace and graciousness that accompanied you always. They called it “Cory magic” – but it was the truth, and the purity and beauty, clear and radiant within you, that we saw. And the hope that arose from that. And when the crosses came to you and you did not refuse to bear them, more to be one with your Christ and one with your people and their pain. “Blessed are the pure of heart; for they shall see God.”

Thank you Father in heaven, for your gift to us of Cory Aquino. Thank you that she passed once this way through our lives with the grace you gave her to share with us. If we give her back to you, we do it with hearts of thanksgiving, but now, oh, with breaking hearts also, because of the greatness and beauty of the gift which she was for us, the likes of which, perhaps, we shall not know again. Salamat po, Tita Cory, mahal na mahal po namin kayo.

Photos courtesy of Sch. Noel Bava, S.J.

The Philippine Flag and Human Dignity

2009-07-13T22:20:00.005+08:00

During that time that I took this picture, I had mixed feelings of sadness, indignation and even a sense of hopelessness. I took quite a number of shots of this poor, ugly, tattered flag. At some point I would even wait for the wind to blow just so I could get the "PERFECT" shot. But to no avail, there was no wind. To kill time I sat on the ground and reflected, then the truth started to surface. Amidst the mixture of feelings stood out the TRUTH. I had seen so many more beautiful flags before, but this flag was like no other. It communicated to me the truth about where we are right now as a country, as a people. What was the setting? I took it from a relocation area in Montalban which mirrored at some point the condition of the people living there. When did this happen? I took it at a time when various farmer groups camped out there at the gates of the Batasan complex fighting for their rights to their land. Some farmers like those from Sumilao walked more than a thousand kilometers from Mindanao to Malacanang. Some others staged a dangerous hunger strike just so lawmakers could lend an ear and listen to their pleas. While I sat patiently there, the wind finally came and blew the flag just as what you see now in the picture. Tears stood in my eyes, because I saw emblazoned on the flag the image of those many people who lived the difficult life yet remained dignified. Many times they have suffered, but they chose to suffer all the more even at the risk of their own lives to tell the whole world, "We are free; no amount of suffering can take that away from us. We will continue the righteous way of living, the peaceful and non-violent means of making our voice heard. We demand respect."

MY FINGERPRINT

2009-07-01T15:06:00.002+08:00

(A good citizen's prayer and reflection for the May 10, 2010 National Elections)

A simple reminder to me about WHO I AM. It tells me that I am precious and unique. No one else in the world has a fingerprint exactly similar to mine. If only for a day between now and the day of the elections on May 10, 2010, I will use my fingerprint remembering who I am-precious, unique, priceless, whom nobody can buy. Then I need to be valued as such.

MY FINGERPRINT

A simple reminder to me about WHO MY NEIGHBORS ARE. It tells me that they too are precious and they ought to be respected and involved. They have the same rights as I have. If only for a day between now and the day of the elections on May 10, 2010, I will use my fingerprint remembering who my neighbors are-friends, brothers and sisters. Then I need to respect and protect them.

MY FINGERPRINT

A simple reminder to me about WHAT KIND OF WORLD I LIVE IN. It tells me that I live in a world patterned according to a meaningful and beautiful design. The blueprint that gives sense to my life is not money or material treasures but true values of truth, love, justice and peace. If only for a day between now and the day of the elections on May 10, 2010, I will use my fingerprint remembering the world I live in-meaningful and beautiful world which is the only one I've got. Then I need to value this world for what it truly is with love and care.

MY FINGERPRINT

A simple reminder to me about WHO DESIGNED EVERYTHING. It tells me that God is the Great Designer who designed my unique fingerprint for a purpose. God gifted me with an indelible mark for the purpose of setting me apart as God's beloved. If only for a day between now and the day of the elections on May 10, 2010, I will use my fingerprint remembering God's permanent mark in me-the mark of love which nobody can take away from me. Then I am called to use my fingerprint always for a good purpose, always for God's divine purpose. Amen.

Brother Jomari Manzano, SJ
Simbahang Lingkod ng Bayan
Task Force 2010

At The Mercy of God

2008-12-30T11:37:00.004+08:00

Everyday I am at the mercy of my God. Learn to depend on God. For everything. For strength. The power to forgive oneself and others. The strength to carry out God’s work. I alone cannot. Everyday, I should beg my God to help. To take charge of my life, my affairs, my feelings. I alone cannot control my feelings, I alone will not be able to give to others.

The grace to be generous.
The grace to love. To forgive.
To laugh. To care. To enjoy.
To share. To sacrifice. To suffer. To pray.
To be sorry. To be humble. To be grateful. To be happy.

Free

2008-10-24T11:23:00.000+08:00

http://web-iac.nokia-asia.com/philippines?frame=/philippines/artists/JMManzano

Free
By Jomari Manzano, SJ
Easter Sunday 2008
Dedicated to Ateneo de Manila High School Graduating Batch 2008

I. It’s difficult to live the ordinary
The routinary time spent by the minute
It’s difficult to stand alone on stage
And have as our audience just our self

It’s difficult, yes it’s difficult
‘Coz often times we think
We’re alone
We live on our own.

Refrain:

Break free from yourself
You are not made ordinary
Set free your own ways
And live up to your destiny
Stand up and learn to walk
Take that road
That’s made for you (Repeat last two lines)

II. It’s difficult to spend our longest hours
Perform our tasks and roles unnoticed by others
It’s difficult to face our limitations
Life’s ups and downs that look without direction

It’s difficult, yes it’s difficult
‘Coz often times we think
We can’t change
Can choose no more. (REF.)

It’s difficult, yes it’s difficult
‘Coz often times we think.

Dream

2008-10-24T11:20:00.002+08:00

http://web-iac.nokia-asia.com/philippines?frame=/philippines/artists/JMManzano

Dream
by Jomari Manzano, SJ
April 16, 2008

1. Learning to fly across waters
Just don’t ever forget to dream
Make it your guide
In reaching for your heart’s great desire

2. Finding your place to shine
Just don’t ever forget to believe
Make it your drive
To try to be the best you can be

Refrain: I can fly, I can reach
I can fall, I can rise
I can learn, I can choose
I can cry, I can smile
I can dream, I can hope
I can fail, I can start

3. Waiting for someone to love you
Just don’t ever forget to let go
Life is so full
Love is found wherever there is life

4. Planning your life in the future
Just don’t ever forget the past
Like a design
Coz’ in life there’s nothing to regret (REF)

Pilipinas Kong Mahal?!

2008-08-23T11:46:00.002+08:00

Everyone probably has seen the giant posters with the flag of the Philippines and the patriotic words 'Pilipinas kong Mahal' or 'Philippines my Love.' This campaign was originated by the City of Manila to instill a sense of nationalism among people. Many have learned to appreciate these posters until these were taken down due to a constitutional provision prohibiting unnecessary imprints on the flag. Recently, when people started to feel the brunt of the soaring prices of basic commodities the word ‘Mahal’ came to be more understood with a double meaning.

This word is so rich in meaning. It may connote “love” that ranges from a personal level to a more communal one. There is another meaning to it when we look at its variant form “mahalaga” which means “valuable,” “precious” or “priceless.” No wonder we judge as either “mahal” (expensive) or “mura” (cheap) a commodity depending on what we see on its price tag.

Matter-of-factly, both the figurative and the literal meaning of “mahal” constitute the reality that is being faced now by our beloved country. We find ourselves at another historic time when we feel more the weight of what it means to be a Filipino. Ever since, all that we have wanted is a descent place to live in and a peaceful life to enjoy with our family, but with the current state of the nation, it seems we are getting farther away from realizing that dream.

It is therefore in this context that we are going to gather again as a community and seek ways to avert the negative effects of the burgeoning national problems. We Filipinos never turn our backs on our country no matter what it takes. Remember the words “The Filipino is worth dying for.” Twenty five years ago we have witnessed Ninoy pay the steep price of true love of country. As we gather together to understand the plight of our people in our next Kwentong Bayan, may we be emboldened again to take whatever means of heroism that we can commit ourselves to do.

On August 30, 2008 (Saturday) from 1:00pm to 5:30 pm, all is invited to our bi-annual National Situationer forum entitled KWENTONG BAYAN: “Pilipinas kong MAHAL?!” Let us hear anew the story of our country told by three important speakers and well-respected experts on the economic, social and political situation of our country.

First, the Former national security adviser Jose Almonte will talk about the general political situation with a focus on current trends and challenges like charter change issue and 2010 National Elections as well as post election scenarios. Second, Professor Ernesto Pernia of the UP School of Economics will talk about the general economic situation with a focus on current economic issues, trends, challenges and some forecasts for the remainder of the year and the effects in succeeding years. Third, due to the national concern brought about by the peace process in Mindanao, Fr. Joaquin Bernas, SJ of the Ateneo Law School will assess the circumstances surrounding the MOA on Ancestral Domain between the GRP and the MILF in the light of our quest for lasting peace in this part of the country.

Organized by Simbahang Lingkod Bayan (SLB), a socio-political non-partisan Church-based organization of the Society of Jesus, the forum will be held at the Cardinal Sin Center, Loyola School of Theology inside the Ateneo de Manila University Campus in Quezon City.

If you have questions and/or would like to make a reservation, feel free to contact Simbahang Lingkod ng Bayan through the following:

Landline: (02) 426-6101 locs 3440-3441
Email: slb@admu.edu.ph
Mobile: SUN-8600-SLB (0922-8600-752)

Manalangin. Manindigan. Makialam. Simbahang Lingkod ng Bayan

My First Song

2008-08-09T20:11:00.006+08:00

I am happy to invite everyone of you to listen to my first song published on the web.

Hope you will enjoy it. And pardon me for the BEDROOM quality of my recording. It's the message of the song that counts.

http://web-iac.nokia-asia.com/philippines/artists/JMManzano

ENJOY!

Paradoxically Healing Power Of Illness

2008-07-18T17:37:00.007+08:00

I have not had a debilitating fever for a long time now. It is as if a new experience again to me to be secluded in my room and grapple with a supposedly normal viral episode in the midst of my busy days of school and work.

First of all I am very grateful for this virus, whatever it is, for allowing me to find time again now with you and share a bit of my reflections while I am recuperating. I know you will resonate with me when I say this, that often times the only thing that we need in this confusing world of ours is to stop, to just stop even for a while. Take a pause and look at the few essentials in your life and before you know it you find all of a sudden an answer to your many questions. I remember a book that I read a few years back entitled The Alchemy of Illness which talks about the pradoxically transforming and healing power of illness.

Now I just need to stop by virtue of obedience to my superiors, the harshest of them often times is our doctor superior who tell us to cut down on this or that, if you want to continue living.

For my case it is just total bed rest. I tell you it is hard for a person like me to obey such a harmeless command. It may look so simple and harmless, but I think this may just be the simple cure we need to combat all of life's illnesses.

I do not know how long this viral episode will take its own course. I try to research in the internet but there is just so many people talking differently about the same symptom. But I am sure only of one thing that came to me just now, that no one is indispensable, no one is exempted from the often far off reality of death.

I realized I am so fragile, breakable. And this could happen anytime.

Lord, thank you for this reminder again to me and to every human being. No one is in control except You alone. No amount of apostolic work we do can change that. No amount of faithfulness and infidelity could change that too. In the end we have no other way to go except to go back to You. And be forever in Your embrace.

Sister Blog in my Multiply

2008-05-30T18:31:00.003+08:00

From now on I will be using this Multiply Account for uploading Music/Video files and photos of my own creation.

Moving Away, Going Toward II

2008-05-13T08:59:00.002+08:00

Exactly two years ago I wrote my last full entry here in my blog with this same title. And just like how I described myself before, I feel like I am again "standing in the middle of things." I just started moving my first box-load of books to my next house of residence, the Loyola House of Studies. Yes, I am moving again. I am moving on to the next stage of my formation but now as a Jesuit theology student. Wow! I can't believe I will be hitting the books once again like a full time college student. For the past two years of my regency I have been used to standing there in front of the class as the authority figure. Those days will be gone for now and I will just have to adjust because, surely, the next four years of being glued to my chair inside the classroom will be tough. But I am excited! TO LEARN ANEW. I just experienced being a teacher and I can fully say now how tough it is to become one. I am very thankful to all my teachers in the past for doing a 'divine' job. Literally, one needs divine intervention in order to teach Christian morality to present-day teenagers. I remember waking up each morning asking myself the questions, "What am I going to teach?" "How am I going to teach?" Sure, I have my lesson plan readied a week before but every moment I hit the platform I enter a world different from what I have earlier imagined and planned.

Indeed, that was a humbling experience for me. And it is all the more worth going back to the classroom in order for me to learn. There is a lot to learn still. Like what I often tell my students, "What we know is just a drop in the vast ocean." But it is impossible to know everything. We just have to focus on the 'essentials' and, often, most of it comes from what is self-taught, one's own experience.

Yes, I am standing in the middle of things, a place which I have not planned or imagined before, and for the same reason a place where I can face another direction and continue to learn. A place that I do not control nor fully expect that it will move smoothly, for if it becomes like that then what is there to learn and be excited about. I am grateful to the One who allows me to go through the endless goings toward and movings away.

Free

2008-05-13T08:32:00.004+08:00

By Jomari Manzano, SJ
Easter Sunday 2008
Dedicated to all my students in Ateneo de Manila High School

I. It’s difficult to live the ordinary
The routinary time spent by the minute
It’s difficult to stand alone on stage
And have as our audience just our self

It’s difficult, yes it’s difficult
‘Coz often times we think
We’re alone
We live on our own.

Refrain:

Break free from yourself
You are not made ordinary
Set free your own ways
And live up to your destiny
Stand up and learn to walk
Take that road
That’s made for you (Repeat last two lines)

II. It’s difficult to spend our longest hours
Perform our tasks and roles unnoticed by others
It’s difficult to face our limitations
Life’s ups and downs that look without direction

It’s difficult, yes it’s difficult
‘Coz often times we think
We can’t change
Can choose no more. (REF.)

It’s difficult, yes it’s difficult
‘Coz often times we think.

A Teacher's Sacred Task

2007-05-23T21:23:00.000+08:00

The sacred task of teaching is a concerted effort coming from everyone. It does not belong to a single individual. We are always already forming each other at home, at work, in school. We find ourselves immersed in a network of people interacting with each other in various modes of communicating and in various levels of influence.

Such a task naturally emanates from us whether we are conscious of it or not. Coupled with it is the task to grow in our capacities and to actualize our potentialities as instruments of formation—on-going human formation and development.

Above all, such a task is a gift that is freely given to all of us from above. So much of this task flows from God’s grace which is a testament of God’s deep desire and enduring love for all humankind. This is revealed throughout human history without end. And within it, we find ourselves being co-workers with God in this special and sacred task.

Falling in Love

2006-06-05T00:27:00.000+08:00

Nothing is more practical than finding God,
that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you will do with your evenings,
how you will spend your weekends,
what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.

Fall in love, stay in love and it will decide everything.

Attributed to Pedro Arrupe, S.J. (1907-1991) 28th Superior General of the Society of Jesus

Moving away and going toward

2006-05-11T14:16:00.000+08:00

Jomari Manzano, SJ

I have been very busy these days, trotting from one corner to another inside the University campus where I have stayed for the past three years. Just as anybody's experience of going through interim days of going away and moving toward, I find myself at the pinnacle of it.

I am entering another stage of my formation as a Jesuit formand-the regency. For the next two years I will do part time teaching in the High School and full time in Campus Ministry work. This is a stage where I will be fully immersed as a Jesuit worker after an initial five or six years of rigorous preparation, both academic and psycho-spiritual.

I feel like I am standing right in the middle of things. I have started reporting for work since May 2 and since then I have been undergoing an in-service training together with the rest of the faculty. Everyday we are being oriented once again to go back to the basics of the Ateneo High School's philosophy, goals and objectives. Besides, this is also being done as a preparation for this year's visit of the accreditation board (PAASCU).

Simultaneous with these preparations for my regency, I have been reviewing for the second half of my comprehensive exams in the college which I will take this Saturday. I am looking forward at this day as the capstone of my philosophy years. I feel a sense of accomplishment and gratitude to the Lord for all these.

My condition right now concretizes one aspect of Jesuit life, that is, a constant moving away and going toward something which I have not really planned or dreamed of. No matter how difficult often times being in situations like these, I am at the same time stunned and consoled by one realization about myself. Yes, I am standing in the middle of things, a place which I have not planned or imagined before. A place that I do not control yet I see things smoothly moving as if according to a plan. I am surprised by how have been led all along through the constant going toward and moving away. And I like and I am delighted with the things that God has been giving to me.

The Resurrection Meeting With Mary (continued)

2006-04-21T07:09:00.000+08:00

(continued from below)

But just how exactly was this Mother-Son meeting is very interesting to ask. Was it like a grand event, a red-carpet accolade befitting of a powerful individual, a God or King of the universe? I would say it was not really that. I am quite sure, as I saw in my contemplation during that last day of my retreat, that such a joy was not too remote from our little, ordinary and human joys. Like the joy of a mother seeing once again her daughter or son, after s/he went away to work overseas. The mother sees once again her beloved whom she once held in her arms as a fragile infant. Like that joy of someone in prison seeing for the first time his growing son whom he had longed to be with. That joy of welcoming back a son who comes home from a war. Perhaps, that joy of a mother who is able to see for the first time her baby who stayed for months in her womb. It was a joy of those very human sorts that I had pictured in my mind-an experience very close to anyone. And yet, it was a joy that was enough to save the world, enough to move people's hearts, enough to make one feel the presence of the risen Christ.

Now I ask myself, do I have that kind of meeting with God at any point of my life? When was it? Did I ever have that completing and YES experience of seeing someone and it changed my life forever? Did I ever have an experience as meaningful and all my life now centers around that momentous point?

The Resurrection Meeting With Mary

2006-04-17T11:24:00.000+08:00

I am glad to be back in circulation once again, feeling rejuvinated. I have been to Sacred Heart Novitiate-Jesuit Retreat and Seminar Center to do my annual 8-day retreat.

Here is one of the fruits of my last day of retreat yesterday which I am moved to share.

The Resurrection Meeting With Mary

I was trying very hard to imagine what kind of joy could have filled the heart of Mary when she met his son alive at the resurrection.

As many of you know, Mary took on that mission coupled with being continually pierced through her heart right from the first moment she said her fiat to God through an Angel. A question came to me with deep wonder, How was it like for Mary to shoulder that great responsibility of becoming the Mother of the Son of God?

Mary's life nevertheless was unimaginably riddled with much consolations and joys which were drawn out of her unwavering faithfulness. She remained meek, docile and humble starting as a little girl until the penultimate decision to become the Mother of the Messiah. Her faithfulness did not stop there, she continued even despite all the confusion, humiliation and difficult hurdles she had to face in the presence of people around her.

Unwavering in her mysterious mission despite her lack of understanding of the full meaning, full gravity of having to carry the saviour of the world in her womb, Mary persisted to follow every word of God for her.

Waiting until that day when God would surprise her, when God would finally unveil what had been reserved for her, Mary's joy was not complete yet. It came in full circle when she personally met her beloved son alive after the shockingly evil sight of the crucifixion.

At a particular point of my contemplation, I was hard up in composing the wretchedness and sorrow in the eyes of this woman while she was lying in wait at the foot of the grimly looking cross as the bloodied, lacerated body of her dead son was being carefully lowered down.

But Mary's heart was more powerful than all these grisly and tempestuous human actions that had been inflicted towards someone so good.

Continuesly trusting and mysteriously believing in God all the more at the lowest point of her life, Mary held on until that joyous event that was waiting for her would come-to see alive once again the babe that she used to cuddle as her very own. (to be continued)

A Look at the Beyond

2006-02-15T22:19:00.000+08:00

Let me see You Lord
Give me eyes that can look beyond
Remove these worldly blinders
That can obstruct me from Your love.

Remove my vision away if necessary
If that is the way to see You more
Give me an open humbled heart instead
That can make me receive You.

Let me see You not with eyes
Let me know Your ways not with mind
And I will be the happiest creature
Who has truly seen with spirit.

You have put me into this world
Ever been showing how great is Your love for me
Only that is enough, for me it is everything
Come look beyond and you will see.

Discernment Retreat 2000, Cannosa Retreat House Tagaytay City

The Only Thing

2006-02-11T11:49:00.000+08:00

Being is love; hence we know nothing if we do not love. And that is why charity is the organ of perfect knowledge... Only charity, by placing itself at the heart of all, lives above appearances, communicates itself even to the interior of substances, and completely resolves the problem of knowlege and being.

Maurice Blondel

I have been into philosophy since college. Not enough though, I continued until my graduate studies. I went through all the cerebro-splitting rigors and twists of it. After several years, I realize now that thinking is not ultimate in philosophy. There is something yet more profound, deep and fundamental that fires up all acts of thinking. If you just scratch a little deeper, what you will find is love, the "thing" that many of us often laugh at and scorn, for various personal reasons.

It is love that grounds all thinking and knowledge. It is love that dictates what kind of knowledge to take, how to pursue it and how to live with it. Love indeed is the organ of perfect knowledge.

If you have love then you have everything:

the courage to keep on pursuing something even without full guarantee of success,
the patience to go through time and dance with the now boring, now dragging, or now exciting pace of time's boundless horizon,
the capacity to forgive oneself and others whenever there is the genuine desire to do only the good and the best and still end up a failure or end up doing harm to people,
the joy to recognize the humor of day-to-day living,
the gratitude of someone who places himself/herself at the heart of anything that can possibly come,
the hope that can penetrate all darkness within and without,
the vision that can see through thickets of appearances or deceptions,
and above all the humility to accept always one's ignorance in the face of the Divine.

We are all at the mercy of love.
In the coming days may we celebrate love, the most wonderful gift and treasure we have.

To Love

2006-02-09T15:08:00.000+08:00

by Tariq Ramadan

Why, deep down, do we love? What is the source of love, its meaning, its object? Why do we experience the birth of love one day, and its death another? Why, deep inside us, does our love for our parents and our children endure? How do we love? Why, deep down, do we love?

Life teaches us to learn, to suffer injury, to get to our feet again, to mature. Life is revelation; and when our hearts and our intelligence turn toward His revelation, we can grasp something of the meaning, the mystery, and the meaning of this mystery. There are many ways to love: The Most Caring One offers us love through the very essence of our nature, and invites us to continue our search for the love of our fellow creatures, for Creation, for His love.

There are several ways to love: we can love ourselves out of egocentrism or egotism; out of self-obsession to the point of self-importance and arrogance. How natural a love...and how dangerous. To see the world through ourselves alone: to love ourselves as if we alone existed, and, at the core of this mysterious paradox, to love ourselves to the point of oblivion.

To love our mothers, our fathers, our husbands, our wives, our daughters, our sons and, our senses dulled by habit, learn nothing from our love for them except when accident or absence strike. To become indifferent in the face of familiar presences. Isn’t it a curious paradox? To be blinded by too much seeing. To lose meaning because we are overwhelmed, drowned, carried away by the endless repetition of daily life.

To observe our friends, our fellow human beings, our world, and to ask of our heart: why you? Why should you be loved? For your appearance? For your qualities? For your tastes? To love as we feel, because we so “genuinely” feel. The fire at first, the ashes when all is done... destroyed by betrayal, by flaws, by wounds inflicted. Love that blinds; separation in the glare of hindsight. Another paradox: the glowing coals that are the warmth of our loves, and the infinite burn of our suffering.

To learn to love. Such is the message of all spiritual disciplines. We may love to love ourselves, our neighbours, the universe; we may love to move beyond the self, our own and that of our neighbours; our own and that of the universe. In nearness to the Divine we learn that we must seek, initiate ourselves, tear asunder, give new form, break off and renew. To seek out the meaning of our loves; to initiate ourselves into the secrets of hope and not stop when proof of our qualities lies before us; to break down ego and appearance; to give form to the gazing eyes and all they ask for; to make new the light in the heart and in the eyes and, as when we fast, to learn to break the fast the better to begin again. To be two, with ourselves, with God, with you... a gift, a time of testing, a period of hardship, of hoping.

Near to you or without you. Why do we love? Why do we break apart? Why, indeed? On our journey, we must learn that His love like ours, that our encounters like our separations, are acts of initiation: we can love a parent, a being, his beauty, his qualities; we can love what is and, in the end, know only hurt and suffering. Over and above what exists, we can learn to love the horizon that unites us. To move beyond ourselves for His sake, to seek together the pathway that leads to His light... to love the meaning, the road travelled as much as we love the destination, and our fate. It is constant effort, this jihad of love. To lift up our eyes before us and learn to love, and with that love, find freedom. To move beyond ourselves, to free ourselves from the loves that bind and imprison us: those “ended” loves, sometimes idolatrous, sometimes misleading, and so near to our animal nature. An infinite task, one never to be completed; a task filled with sorrow, with hurt and tears. Here, on this earth, lies one truth: he who truly loves must learn to weep. Life. Love, and life.

Why, deep down, do we love? Some like to bind themselves in chains, others to set themselves free. A mystery. The Unique One calls out to us, summons us, tells us: “Go on! Love! Move forward, seek out, and pursue your quest. The love that will come to you is not at all what you are seeking. It is an illusion, a prison. The love you seek, the love that you must learn, opens wide to you the door of freedom: alone, by twos, by thousands, it teaches you to say: “It is Him I love” and, in the depths of your heart, feel yourself loved. And then, at that moment, we must lift up our eyes before us, nurture the freedom we have found, and bestow all the love we possess upon those close to us, to the universe, to humanity. As we move on beyond this life, or as we remain. Love and true Life.

To love, and learn to leave...

Article Source

“If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.”

2006-01-31T23:50:00.000+08:00

There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years. She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and had spent all that she had. Yet she was not helped but only grew worse. She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” Immediately her flow of blood dried up. She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction. Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him, turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who has touched my clothes?” But his disciples said to him, “You see how the crowd is pressing upon you, and yet you ask, Who touched me?” And he looked around to see who had done it. The woman, realizing what had happened to her, approached in fear and trembling. She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be cured of your affliction.” Mark 5:21-43

My Adaptation of the Gospel

There was a man afflicted with lack of life's direction for so many years.
He had suffered greatly at the hands of many, most had been self-inflicted,
and he had tried all that he could.
Yet he was not helped but only grew worse.
He had heard about this man named Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd
and touched his cloak.
He said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.”
Immediately his heart felt a surge of meaning.
He felt deep within him that despite all those pleasant or unpleasant experiences and memories he had, one thing became so clear to him, that he is loved.
Jesus, aware at once that love had gone out from him,
turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who has touched my clothes?”
But his disciples said to him,
“You see how the crowd is milling around you,
and yet you ask, Who touched me?” (Its fascinating how many in the crowd had physical contact with Jesus yet only one desperate man actually felt the presence of Jesus. That man in dire need and desire to be loved.)
And he looked around to see who had done it.
The man, realizing what had happened to him,
approached in fascination and great wonder.
He fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth.
He said to him, “Son, your faith and your deep thirst for love has saved you.
Go in peace and be a cure as well to the others' affliction.”

Positive Anger

2006-01-23T15:37:00.000+08:00

I stumbled upon this funny story in my archives folder. One of my spiritual directees might have sent this to me. I just thought the couple in the story might be able to remind us of something.

There was once a man and woman who had been
married for more than 60 years. They had shared
everything. They had talked about everything. They
had kept no secrets from each other except that
the little old woman had a shoe box in the top of
her closet that she had cautioned her husband
never to open or ask her about.

For all of these years, he had never thought about
the box, but one day the little old woman got very
sick and the doctor said she would not recover. In
trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man
took down the shoe box and took it to his wife's
bedside. She agreed that it was time that he
should know what was in the box. When he
opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a
stack of money totaling $25,000. He asked her
about the contents.

"When we were to be married," she said, "my
grandmother told me the secret of a happy
marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I
ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet
and crochet a doll."

The little old man was so moved; he had to fight
back tears. Only two precious dolls were in the
box. She had only been angry with him two times
in all those years of living and loving. He almost
burst with happiness.

"Honey," he said, "that explains the dolls, but what
about all of this money? Where did it come from?"

"Oh," she said, "that's the money I made from
selling all the dolls.

Dear God, I pray for Wisdom to understand my
man;
Love to forgive him;
And Patience for his moods; because God, if I pray
for Strength, I'll beat him to death.

For Whom Our World Is Made

2006-01-17T22:05:00.000+08:00

There is something that fired me up upon listening to the Scripture reading for the day:

“The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.
That is why the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

Humans are not made for the law but the law is made for humans.
Humans are not made for race and culture but race and culture are made for humans.
Humans are not made for nationalities but nationalities are made for humans.
Humans are not made for the institutions but institutions are made for humans.
Humans are not made for the celebration but the celebration is made for humans.
Humans are not made for wealth but wealth is made for humans.
Humans are not made for the world but the world is made for humans. However, this does not mean humans have the license to just carelessly do as they wish to the world because if we destroy the world we destroy ourselves. The world is imminent in humans and has a direct effect on humans.
Humans are not made for rules and protocols but rules and protocols are made for humans.
These have great tendency to stand on their own as if they have been arrived at for their own sake. They have to be constantly evaluated, checked if they are still faithful to their foundations which are always fluidly rich, dynamic, and constantly fresh. The only way to check them is to go back always to the essentials - one's core human experiences and core values.

I too very often forget the end to everything. This is a good reminder for me and for you. Especially when we feel so encumbered by many concerns.
May we live our lives to the fullest with our eyes focused on just the few essentials.

Journey Of The Magi by T.S. Eliot

2006-01-09T10:06:00.000+08:00

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed,
refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the
terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.

Then the camel men cursing and
grumbling
And running away, and wanting their
liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the
lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns
unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high
prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all
night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears,
saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a
temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of
vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill
beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped in
away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with
vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for
pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so
we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment
too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say)
satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I
remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth,
certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had
seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different;
this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like
Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these
Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old
dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their
gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Called to Great Things

2006-01-05T16:10:00.000+08:00

The Gospel today is about the calling of Philip and Nathanael. From this day on and the many days to come, I realize this is my own calling too.

After reading the Gospel, I pondered on three points: (1) Jesus calls me to see greater things that are to come. (2) How or when will I see such great things? (3) What kind of attitude do I need to welcome such a privileged encounter?

Jesus decided to go to Galilee. Finding Philip, Jesus called him, “Come Philip, follow me.” Philip, who hails from the fishing village of Bethsaida (means house of fishing), in turn calls Nathanael to go with him and see with their own eyes the one Great Thing from Nazareth, about whom was written in the law by Moses and prophesied by the prophets.

Nathanael, thinking out loud, said such disparaging words: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Just come with me and see.”

Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him and said of him, “Here is a true child of Israel who comes with no deceit.” Surprised, Nathanael retorted, “How do you know me?” Jesus replied, “Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree.” (The fig tree is a place for worship among Israelites.) Nathanael, roused and now with eyes opened, answered him, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.”

Jesus answered and said to him, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than this. Amen, amen, I say to you, you will see the sky opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”

(1) Jesus calls me to see greater things that are to come.

Nathanael approached Jesus blindly, without much thought about the things that came
out of his mouth. He did not see the person of Jesus, the Great Thing who was right there face to face with him.

I can identify with Nathanael during those many times that I failed to see and relish Great Things that came to me. They fleetingly pass my trail without a notice. How many of such things have come already and how many of these did I see and savor with my own senses?

Jesus is the Great Thing who bids me, and summons me to open my eyes before him. But how? When does Jesus come to me?

(2) How or when will I see such great things?

Jesus comes to me everyday, every moment, in the suddenness of things, and in moments when I least expect him to happen.

Such is the nature of the calling, it comes suddenly and unexpectedly, but constantly, in each fleeting moment. Yesterday’s Gospel was the calling of the first disciples Andrew and Peter, now it is Philip and, in a special way, Nathanael; all of which did not expect such great privilege, gift to come to them. They simply were called with the element of being surprised, being roused from their prejudices.

(3) What kind of attitude do I need in order to welcome such a privileged encounter?

Therefore, what will be the attitude that I should cultivate and nurture in myself so that I can become more keen and ready to welcome whenever Jesus comes to me?

But I should remember also that such an encounter will always be a gift that is unearned. But is it possible to receive it? Can I do something?

Let us go back to the Gospel which provides for us an answer.

I am invited to become like Nathanael. Very honest and without deception. He came to Jesus for who and what he was, in his blindness. In the first place it was Jesus who spoke well of him when he said, “Here is a true child of Israel who comes with no deceit.” Jesus in the end was the one who helped him out of his questioning and blind disposition. Jesus comes very fair, he met Nathaneal in his own terms.

Therfore, I am not to be afraid if often times I approach Jesus in different ways—carelessly, indifferently, blindly, expectantly, impatiently, thoughtlessly, sleepily, drunkenly, limitedly and fearfully. In the end, I have full faith that it will be Jesus who will show me the way where I could meet and encounter his loving presence more.

The Work of Christmas

2006-01-02T21:38:00.000+08:00

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry
To release the prisoners,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

To me this song adapted from a poem by Howard Thurman pictures a Christmas that does not have an ending…

Not when we have opened the gifts we received and tried them all on,
Or when we have kept the embellishments back into the storage room
Or when we stop playing soothing Christmas hymns
Or when we go back to our rapidly moving regimen
Or when we have changed the cheerful red and green trapping
Or when we have written our friends and loved one our heartfelt greeting.

There are people—those lost, broken, hungry, imprisoned, separated.
Maybe their very longed for 1st Christmas has yet to come.
Or maybe many have long given up that elusive Christmas dream.

Now tell me if you too think that the work of Christmas never ends,
Or where it ends, it begins again "like the waves in the ocean," then you have the message of the song in your heart.
Follow its music’s rhythm, rests, anticipations and even the hesitations. There is something in the music rousing us from our post Christmas slumbering.

“There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have. And if you cannot hear it, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.” Howard Thurman (American Theologian, Clergyman and Activist, 1900-1981)

Painting by Gordon Mitchell

Being or Being-for

2005-12-28T16:51:00.000+08:00

Somehow, it is important to ask ourselves again if we can be happy living for our self alone or if it is true that to work for one’s achievements, success, popularity and security already gives a total happiness. But why are there still so many people who seem to have everything already and yet they remain unhappy. Happiness, therefore, is something that is not only confined to the self or to being. It transcends the self towards the other.

Philosopher Levinas teaches about asking the right question in philosophy. He asserts that there is no transcendence yet in focusing at the question “Who I am?” He says, that the question that needs to be asked by one who wants to become truly human is “What have I done so far for the other?” This question no longer carries a self-seeking responsibility but more a social responsibility.

Levinas would also point to a condition of true happiness which is a self-dying for the other, an uncoiling from one’s preoccupations in order to give space always for the other. I want to return to what I have asked earlier and say that to work for selfish motives alone is not yet life. Young adults still have a lot to outgrow. Their idea about life often times is not yet what it takes to become human.

Beauty in a Sake Vessel

2005-12-22T17:28:00.000+08:00

I stumbled upon this Japanese imagery with a write up by Robert Yellin. I just thought this is one that captured a glint of eternity. The fresh beauty exuding from this decrepit sake vessel is mesmerizing. It is like holding eternity in a tiny earthen vessel, teeming with droplets of immense beauty and wonder.

Sake Vessels by Harada Shuroku

I think that it's a good thing to be close to the earth whether in spirit or body. Sitting on Japanese tatami always makes me feel closer to Mother Earth, literally. That's also the way I feel whenever I hold this sturdy Bizen tokkuri; it gives me energy that radiates from nature.

It has a coloration like that found on a late autumn evening walk through a forest - feet crunching leaves: rusty browns, subtle scarlet reds and soft pale tan hues on one side. The back is crusted with a thin rough ash that runs from brown to black. Small quartz flecks that literally sparkle in the light like a deep winter night sky dot the 'dark side of the moon.' On one side a deep shiso color stretches along like a distant constellation.

Gazing at this tokkuri by Harada Shuroku (1941-) is indeed like peering into a distant galaxy.

The form is bold and refined like a tower and the lip is perfectly formed for the pouring of sake - tonight I'm enjoying some Tedorigawa from Ishikawa.

A few stone explosions dot the surface adding character to this already stellar tokkuri- I believe it to be a piece from some years back.

The wide open-faced hai is by someone I can't tell you the name of- I simply don't know. Yet that really doesn't matter, does it?

Sometimes our thinking minds get in the way of purely looking at something- we're always asking superficial questions without trusting our own eye. Who made it? When? What prizes have they won? Where do they exhibit? Are these questions necessary to see beauty. Trust yourself.

The subtle changes in white tones in this hai, amamori, is a joy to see- especially now that it's filled. Can you believe that if this hai was about three centimeters smaller it would be worth about four times what I paid for it? Americans always think bigger is better, not when it comes to a Yi dynasty hakeme hai though.

Yet, I find it to be fine just as it is in it's 'oversized' state- it rests comfortably in the hands and the kodai has a small indention where a finger can grip it. It's a shuki(sake utensils) lover's dream when matched with Harada's tokkuri.

Asking, Seeking and Knocking

2005-12-21T23:31:00.000+08:00

Jesus teaches us to ask, to seek and to knock at his door. But why still does he have to teach us these things. Jesus seems to be contradicting himself here. The God that He preaches is a provident, all loving and generous God who just gives. Throughout Jesus’s life his buzzword is God-knows-what-we-need; he knows us better than we know ourselves.

Even before a word comes out of our lips, God knows already everything about us. If we already have a God like this, then why still does Jesus have to teach us such habit TO ASK, TO SEEK and TO KNOCK at his Father’s door? Where to is this Gospel paradox leading us at this point of our spiritual journey? I think this Gospel truth is more pointing to us rather than pointing to God. Our asking, seeking and knocking is not meant for God as if he has an attention-seeking complex who rejoices more when we constantly go to Him or run after Him. The Gospel is pointing to who we are, to our nature as finite human beings who often times easily lose focus. The Gospel paradox is pointing to our journey in this world which is a journey of constantly asking, constantly seeking and constantly knocking at our Father’s door.

A Season of Keeping

2005-12-16T22:17:00.000+08:00

I would like to make a reflection of who friends are for me. Why are they worth keeping in one's life?

In my own experience, friends are rare to find. They are freely given to us like God sent blessings that, in the first place, we have not really worked hard for. No amount of hard work can guarantee getting the friends we like. Now this makes it even more difficult for many of us who would like to gain as much control over certain relationships we have.

We all experience being a friend to somebody. So the best gauge of talking about friends is our own self. A friend to someone for me is a companion to that somebody. That is enough and it is everything a friend is for. That is what we do; we accompany. A friend is not a repository of all our needs. S/he too is a human being like us, with limitations and needs. The frustrations are a result of expecting too much.

What is fascinating about friends is not that they give or provide, but that they bring out what we have. “Show me your friends and I will tell you who you are.” A lot of truth is said in this old aphorism. To be in the company of a friend means to share laughter with her/him, to become objective, accepting and honest with ourselves. We can, therefore, expect to become most ourselves in the company of friends. Who else can bring out these best things in us?

So what now? After I come to see more clearly their value, I become more aware of what my part is. Yes, they are gifts freely given to me; however, this does not mean I do nothing. I can do something; I can keep them.

We are so used to expending things and disposing of them once they get worn out—like clothing, personal stuff, cars, houses, etc. But, I suppose you all agree with me if I say that we cannot just afford to do the same with those people we care about. The moment we find them, we make efforts to keep them. Many do not see yet the fact that they too cannot stay there for long; they too can be worn-out by time. So while we have them, it is best and wise that we learn to keep them. Just like in any relationship, friendships grow in time. So only in time can we work the art of keeping each other. When you listen to someone and just allow time to pass without interrupting, without judging, you may not be aware but you are already keeping the person. The many pats on the back to affirm or console someone, the heart moving words “You did a good job!” or “I’m sorry…” and even the freeing moments of giving space. All of these are what build and keep friendships moving and going.

This Christmas season, start a habit, not so much of expending but of learning how to keep.

Distance makes friendship last,
Respect preserved.
In Michaelangelo's Creation,
The Creator touched Adam across a gap
Igniting a spark of life,
Bridging Heaven and Earth,
Immortality and man. Dr. Abe Rotor

Endless Waiting In This Season Of Advent

2005-11-30T21:17:00.000+08:00

Almost all our life is spent in waiting. The best things in life are those that resulted from our patient waiting. Besides, if we glance back into our own history, we find a whole truth to this—we were brought up across years of preparations that our parents made. Once in their youth they dreamt about us. They went to school; they sought the best opportunities; they worked hard and, took each step up the stairway at a time, they waited in anticipation of raising their own family and bring to life the air castles they had built in their idealistic stage. And in those nine months of being inside the womb of our mother, they waited for us most excitedly. We came out into the world seeing our first love—our parents who also oriented us about how to love and be loved through patient waiting.

Do you think the waiting ends there? The waiting continues—waiting for us to grow, waiting to see how we first learn to write our initials and set foot in school until we are able to stand confidently our ground, and so on and on. We often grumble of getting bored with childhood, and cannot wait to reach adulthood only to find ourselves in the end longing to be children again. We are so anxious about the future, and forget the abundance of the present, and then complain about not enjoying our time or not being given time.

Waiting is the unforeseen friend we meet along the journey. The long winding road ahead of us requires from every traveler a certain level of growth and maturity which only waiting can afford to give us. We need time to grow and mature like worming ourselves out from the protective cocoon. We can only say to ourselves that we are strong only through time. We can say that we are patient only when we have experienced how to really wait. Like the Mustard seed, no matter how tiny it is but when allowed time, can turn into a bush where birds in the sky can nestle on its branches.

In a homily beautifully written by Fr. Jim Donelan: he says that most of all, waiting means waiting for someone else. If we never learn how to wait, then we’ll never learn how to love someone other than ourselves. In Greek mythology, Penelope waited for twenty years for Ulysses to come home. Weaving all day and unweaving all night, many things changed in her life bit by bit even though often times too her life seemed nothing was happening.

This was true for Jesus who waited across long years for the fulfillment of his mission. He did not rush to do his public ministry; he knew if it was not yet his time. It was through patient waiting that Jesus showed his great love for humankind. Why would Jesus spend the longest 30 years of his life shunning the public eye? Why did he not start his public ministry at his early 20's and he could have cured more or raised more people from the dead?

Yet, it is still hard to see in human eyes the power of waiting by which our God has saved us. How is it possible?

I guess the answer can only be something that is personal to us, to me? How have I personally felt God's endless longing and waiting for me despite my obstinacy?

This season of advent, season of waiting, let us beg for the encounter of being waited and relish the feeling that there is actually no end to that kind of waiting. The promise to us all this advent can come if and only if we are willing to wait and to trust in waiting’s slow process.

For more themes on Advent Son of the Prodigal

A Gathering (My First English Short Story)

2005-11-28T15:15:00.000+08:00

Every last breathage [1] of each vegetum [2], a great banquet is organized by the High Council of Trees to serve as a regular gathering for all plants and trees on the face of the Earth. In their preparations for the next gathering, the Council decided to confer honorary degrees to all the trees found in the Bible.

They all agreed that it must be a magnificent one; and as a first step they invited every kind of tree across the lands and oceans. From the Hyssop to the mighty Cedar, each of them received an invitation and each one of them will be awarded distinctions and honors as regards how they have lived their mission on earth. The organizers charted series of inquiries, as well as ballots were sent to all trees in order to decide the proper entitlements. But, as it has been a practice in previous gatherings, popularity more than credentials was a big make way to bagging the awards.

After everything was set, the great ceremonies officially began with the trumpeters composed of colorful and cascading trumpet flowers, honeysuckles and bell flowers sounding their fanfares and bamboos piping their horns to produce heavenly symphonies. The choirs of nightingales sang to their hearts content to give soothing welcome to all the arriving guests who have journeyed far just to grace this prestigious gathering. Several seats of honor had been set for the guests, and before each was laid a tablet of stone with engraved epithet of its famed recipient.

Many attended showcasing the best of their kinds. They were all fully clad in their own foliage, the finest that they had, while others in their colorful floral displays. Many others who were famous for their fruits dangled their produce to the great envy of the others.

Compared to the earlier inhabitants on the planet across treestory, plants and trees of the latter vegeta have gradually lost their antiquity and calm such that gatherings have become more and more vain and worldly and the participating guests enter into a bragging match. Those included in the Sacred Scriptures, who were once renowned for their inviolability, behaved no different from the rest. Many came to sing their own praises, their own stories, achievements, and all the other attractive traits that they could boast about themselves.

They all gathered in an oversize antechamber surrounded by ambient lights almost resembling the blue sky. It was filled with plants and trees dancing, and you can find in the corners, being served by hordes of pitcher plants, sybarites aestivating and drinking as if there was no tomorrow. The hall was divided in the middle by a huge ramp looping all the way to the hundreds of arrayed seats of honor adorned with gold and diamonds.

So the party went on. The most popular trees paraded in front of the ecstatic assembly: Fat Olive, Debonair Fig, Royal Mustard, Mighty Cedar, Graceful Willow, Deciduous Oak, and the crowd favorites like the Almond, the Walnut and the Pistachio. All of them adorned themselves with flickering light bulbs, balls, and all sorts of colorful frills or tensils mimicking how humans decorate their own Christmas trees.

“Look I brought a present for everyone,” the fancy Fat Olive got the attention of the crowd when she started distributing Pure Olive Oil to them.

“I have anointed a long line of Kings with this same oil. Please come and serve yourselves and feel like royal Kings and Queens in your dreams.” Throngs of avid oil users gravitated towards her creating a slight stir inside the antechamber.

“Make way…make way,” in a thundering voice, the juggernaut Mighty Cedar terrified the young plants playing on the grass. They ran to the sides when they saw the giant coming, covering large areas with his thick and towering trunk and branches crushing everything that was on its path. Because of its superior quality, fragrance and durability, the Cedar symbolizes strength, dignity, and grandeur.

“No one will ever equal my superior quality for, as all of you know, the First and the Second temples in Jerusalem were constructed out of my own wood,” continued the Cedar while everyone just showed agreement so as not to enrage the giant.

There was another commotion when like Fat Olive, the Debonair Fig distributed kerchiefs made of woven fig leaves saying to the crowd, “I have clothed the first humans after they ate the forbidden fruit with these same elegantly woven leaves.”

In the end, there was one tree that arrived at the doorway. She hobbled towards the great hall with difficulty and looked so petrified. All the trees and plants present were terrified at the grim and eerie sight of the creature. To the dismay of everyone, they sulked in their seats exchanging furtive looks at each other. The Fat Olive grumbled, “Who in the tree world invited such an old crone, she is a disgrace to the occasion.”

The Royal Mustard was more subtle in his remark, “I think our fellow here made a mistake in coming over to our festivity. She might need some help.” Others made fun of the spectacle muttering, “We cannot believe what we are seeing. We thought this only happens in Fairy Tales. I’m afraid this old crone might cast an evil spell on all of us present here.” Everyone laughed to hide their feelings of terror.

Let me tell you the poor story of this unfortunate tree.

This tree was believed to be dead some years after the crucifixion. Her kind belongs to the evergreen tree like the Fir, which can stand her ground in a bleak forest amid heavy blankets of winter-cold snow. She is also otherwise known as the Tree of Life. She still bears the nail marks that have gotten through her trunk and branches. There is nothing extraordinary about her; in fact only criminals are left to die hanging on her branch. Criminal’s blood is splattered all over her rough surface making her so grim and ugly to look at.

But, Oh God, it is this tree that bore the Fruit that saved the whole world. She is the great tree that restored life to the whole world. She is the reason for everything that the world is now and will be. Animals and humans alike will forever kiss her with reverent lips.

The grumbling and exchange of stealthy looks continued. It seemed that among all those present in the gathering no one recognized her except when a Little Sycamore shouted in the middle of the crowd, “It’s the Tree of the Cross; it’s the Tree of the Cross. She’s got nail marks on her."

There was a bellowing uproar amidst the flabbergasted plants and trees upon hearing those words of the Little Sycamore. They were all brought back to their senses and every one of them approached to help the poor tree. They have gathered and woven clothes of leaves to put on her. A bright shining star was put on her apex to become lasting sign for all creatures to find their way to this tree. Jubilation continued and once again they have rekindled in the tree world the true spirit of their gathering.

Sch. Jomari V. Manzano, SJ

[1] A breathage in the tree world is equivalent to a century in the human world.

[2] A vegetum spans to a millenium. Ten breathages is equivalent to a vegetum in the tree world. They hold gatherings once in a millenium because a tree takes centuries to move from one place to another.

Novice Spelunker

2005-11-13T00:20:00.000+08:00

Have you ever been to the interiors of a mountain? Have you ever stepped barefoot into the softest, serene and quiet part of the mountain wild and the undomesticated? Last week I had an extraordinary experience of entering one of the caves of Sierra Madre in Cagayan Valley. The Sierra Cave is one among many mystique caves found in the Philippine islands that continue to capture the imagination of intrepid men and women across the globe.

As a novice spelunker, it came as a surprise for me to witness such underground wonders sealed within subterranean vaults or grand halls of calcareous/limestone formations. They have been deposited there unperturbed for hundreds and thousands of years.

It was my first time to see a living cave. The Sierra cave is closed to the public as a way of respecting the speleothems (cave deposits) that continue to evolve there. They are alive when they gleam like crystals at the touch of light. I was extra careful in not touching the limestone formations because I was afraid of disturbing their growth. I was told that the average growth rates are about 1 cm for every 15 years to ½ inch for every 100 years. The cave ceilings, floors and walls have been riddled with all kinds of formations through thousand years of drop by drop acid rainwater passing through bedrock cracks. Many different speleothems are common in caves including soda straw, the common carrot-shaped stalactites, stalagmites and columns. Nestor, our accredited DENR guide showed us other formations like “baconstrips,” cave coral or “popcorn,” “flakes” and “pretzel.” I became famished upon my first look at such crystalline structures.

Until now I continue to marvel at what I had witnessed. I guess the wonder does not only stop at the sheer sight of it. I marvel more about the fact that within its hushed confines, where the only sounds are those of the trickling water and the shrill chirp of pesky and frightening bats and the fact that for some thousands of years its narrow passages never had a taste of a single ray of sunlight, the cave has been a world of breathtaking wonders and natural beauty. Again, this is a testament to the character of our God of wonders, who work in mysterious and very clandestine ways only to reach out to us.

Bereavement and Separation

2005-10-31T00:36:00.000+08:00

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

2005-10-24T23:11:00.000+08:00

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

2005-10-23T12:30:00.000+08:00

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

2005-10-13T19:24:00.000+08:00

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

2005-10-04T15:36:00.000+08:00

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

On Stage

2005-09-26T16:30:00.000+08:00

Ironically, it is difficult to live our ordinary lives, our ordinary daily grind. Even more difficult than the apparently grandiose events or the occasional surges that punctuate our living biographies.

The ordinary, the reticent, the one relegated and closeted behind doors, is difficult not only because it is the longest, largest time spent, which often times drags, and most of the time leaves our efforts within crevices, unnoticed by others - it is difficult because we cannot stand facing ourselves. Once alone, we cannot stand to face our limitations, tragic pains and longings that inhabit our most secret realities. Their overabundance dwarfs the many occasions of joys we had in the past.

Paradoxically, it is difficult when standing on stage we have ourselves as our only audience.

by J.M. Manzano

Sun in the Well by A.V. Rotor

2005-09-18T23:42:00.000+08:00

I dug for water
and looked to Heaven.
Clouds I found none
But heard a voice instead
"Deeper."
So I dug and dug.
Without letup,
But with no avail.
This time I looked to Heaven,
to ask, "How much deeper?"
And the voice came again.
"Until you see the sun, my son."
I dug and dug and dug,
And a spring I soon struck,
Reflected the sun above.

All The Same Yet All New

2005-09-18T22:49:00.000+08:00

T.S. Eliot puts it well when he said “the end of all journeys will be to return to the place from which you started and know it for the first time.” Four years ago I enrolled in this same class, in the same room and with the same professor who has maintained a vibrant quality as ever. I have to admit I am back partly because of my vow of obedience to my Jesuit superiors. After two weeks I return to where I all began, asking the same questions all over again “Was ist das - - die Philosophie? What is being as Being? What does it mean to say that the table is Tabling? The grass Grassing? The tree Treeing?”
Yet now I think I am back with the same wonderment. I thought I could readily give an answer to those seemingly “archaic” questions any moment now. But I see it was not as simple as I first thought it to be.
One thing I have learned so far is that in my every effort to grasp reality or to comprehend my own smaller realities like my life, my mission, my apostolate, my relationship with others, they escape me. Because of that I know I will never fully know reality.
Four years have passed. I trod a road that accorded me with life-changing experiences and realizations. I was schooled in a novitiate that plunged me into seminars and integration workshops in the effort to know better myself, my God and the religious life that I made a vow to enter. Now I am led back to the questions of Being that are no different from the grass Grassing or the tree Treeing. Surprisingly, what I find in the end are not answers but a continuous astonishment of my own being. Those many years become like a fleet of wing in the face of Being. But in spite of that I know it is more than enough consolation for me to realize that I am flying towards that track or path. I know I will never run out of wind to return to where I all started and know things there for the first time.
(Reflection about doing Philosophy SY 2004-2005)

Walking Life

2005-09-18T21:48:00.000+08:00

Life is not just all predictability. So much of the things that come we know so little of. Every step of the way is not all a calculated event, every measure we use will always fall short, lag behind something boundless, something ineffably rich. In every step there is always hesitation, instability and other times outburst. But what remains constant is always the element of surprise, when we feel most alive, most real, and most ourselves.

Be careful of things we know, of every achievment or success that we take upon ourselves. We have the propensity of falling into the trap of forging our own golden fetters.

But do not worry at times we are misunderstood. If things do not go our way, do not worry. If we fall on the wrong path, do not worry. There is just so much to be learned. If things are seemingly moving backward, do not worry. The greatest learnings in life are achieved in the most unconventional way which entails moving back, decreasing one self, failure to understand things, walking the less trodden path-less trodden because it is a difficult and hard way. But this is the way of all things, to go first through trying and cleansing chapters, moments of pain, and of being put in rack. If we choose to go only the easy way then what kind of personal triumphs will we be proud to say.

Silent Dewdrops

2005-09-18T21:14:00.000+08:00

The microcosm of life is the dewdrop
Like holding eternity in the palm of hand
So little do I know of that silence it bears
Teeming with unimaginable wonders.