Faith Sharing: Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, February 2, 2012

              I remember a story of an old wise king who asked three young men to fill an empty and dark and big room big as a ballroom hall with anything they can think of. Anyone who could completely fill the room would receive half of the kingdom of the King. The first young man collected and bought wastes and garbage to fill the room but only to find out that it didn't reach up to the ceiling of the room. The second one brought with him a truck load of cotton. However, they found out that there was a corner of the room still empty and not completely filled. And the third one came presented himself to the king. But the king was wondering because he brought nothing with him. But this man went into the room and in the middle of this room he got a match and a candle from his pocket. He lit the candle and put it down in the middle of the room. As soon as the candle was put down every corner of the room, from its floor and up to the ceiling was filled with light coming from the candle. And the king was so amazed of this young man and fulfilled the king’s promise to give half of the kingdom. And that ends the story.

         The candle in the story has not just filled the room completely but also illumined the entire empty and dark room. Every corner of the room was exposed and every part of it was discovered. In this feast of the presentation of the Lord in the temple, the candle and its light conveys a very deep meaning. Simeon has proclaimed that the child Jesus is a light to the nations. Jesus the promised Messiah of Yahweh has come to bring light into this dark room, into the darkest part of my life.

        For the past illuminating and purifying months and continually at present, I am seeking and praying for Jesus that he would give light in my life. At the beginning I have felt afraid and anxious about myself for asking this light from Jesus because a part of my life is hidden in darkness. That darkness has even inflicted fear, shame and anxieties on me. And yes, I have realized that I would always live in fear and shame if ever I would continue to keep that part of my life hidden in the dark. But, no, I have to be courageous to make myself free from these painful past incidents. And it takes time for me to light the candle, to be convinced that God loves me, that Jesus is my savior and my brother. It takes time to put the candle and its light in the middle of that dark room where I have hidden some parts of my life. It takes time because I am afraid of the things that I will see and of the things that I will rediscover and of the feelings that will only be awakened. And I am afraid to see the weakest part of my very life. Nevertheless, I have taken the risk to accept Jesus as my savior, my healer and Lord. It is a risk because I have to put my trust to him and to those people who help me in illuminating the darkest part of my life. In that rediscovering, I have come into the realization that that dark side of my life is not all about Jomil. This dark side which Jesus is helping me to illumine is actually a single portion of me. There is still a bigger part of my life that Jomil’s story is also vast, full of fun, adventure, of happiness, of simplicity and not just of sorrows, of fear, shame and of anger. Finally, I would like to end this sharing with a part of a poem I composed.

The bars of the past have thickened

They hinder me to see the horizon

Now, they become darker

As the chains filled the cell.

Oh, God help me to light my candle!

It would be the candle of hope.

That may bring me into liberty with you.

Take all my fears from these chains

Yield me the strength to grasp these

To hold firmly until WE could break them

That liberty I may attain.

That darkness may not control over me

But could bring the light into the depth

That I may see the things I fear about

And face them with courage.

So that I may walk freely soon

Together with you, I’ll enjoy the walk

And bring me with you into the talk

That I may give all things I own

And surrender my whole self to you

With a heart free from chains

And with a soul rejoicing in hope.

PRAYER & PRAYING: Being Intimate with God

I have read the book of Keith Clark, a Franciscan-Capuchin entitled, “Being Sexual and Celibate.” One of his contentions in the book about sexuality is that, it is about intimacy. By nature a person hungers for intimacy because God has created man and woman to be intimate with Him. I am my sexuality. Hence, the person in me is both spiritual and physical-sexual as I have a body and spirit. And I, a person, have the need of intimacy with other people which is expressed through relationships. However, there’s more on this and that is the need and hunger for intimacy with God. But how am I going to satisfy this hunger? The initiative comes solely from God not from me because God calls and I respond to His calling. It is through personal relationship with Him that intimacy starts to spring. And my relationship with God is nurtured through prayer and praying. Now, regarding with prayer and praying; prayer is for me a way or means of being intimate with God who created me and chose me. On the other hand, praying is the act of being intimate with my God. St. Alphonsus and St. Teresa of Avila would emphasize; prayer is a familiar conversation with God. Basically, in prayer and while praying I am connecting with my God in an atmosphere of some intimacy. Thus, for me it is all about intimacy, being intimate with God.

However, before I would proceed I would like to reminisce the kind of relationship I had with God when I was still a child. Before, I had the attitude in praying that it is a Giver-receiver thing. God gives and I receive. And I had the concept of God as a punisher God. He punishes a child who does not pray and obey Him. But later on, though slowly, there was a twist from this kind of attitude into a much deeper kind of relationship. My attitude of relationship with this God becomes between a parent-son, or between brothers and even between friends. I began to approach God gradually not as a punisher but a kind and loving friend.

        Consequently, in prayer, I brought with me ideally myself, my mind, heart and soul. I say ideally because through submission to God I can have a true and sincere prayer where intimacy happens. However, human as I am not all of my prayer moments reached the ideal attitude of prayer. There were times that I was not sincere because I was not able to focus or I have let myself drowned into a pre-occupied mind. Nevertheless, the beauty here is I have always the opportunity to amend and realize the things that I have done irresponsibly. It is only in the grace of God that I could come into this realization. God is, indeed, so generous to allow me to realize and grow in His grace. That’s why I have also the time to go back again and start again of what I have started in prayer. God, as what I have felt and experienced during prayer, is the one who always takes the first initiative. It is very beautiful to reflect what the book of Wisdom says about this loving God, “You are there, sitting by your gate, waiting and calling (Wis. 6:14).” I firmly believe that when I am lost He finds me and when I am in danger He saves me.

            Moreover, prayer creates a mood where I could have the privilege to meet and be with my God. During prayers I dispose myself before God recognizing and adoring His presence and at the same time aware of my own sinfulness and dependence to the God of grace and mercy. And prayer would let my heart, my mind and my soul set into the direction towards God. It is a way of being one with Him because I believe that my faith lifts my spirit towards God.

     And praying as the act itself brings me into an intimate relationship with God as my Father, Jesus as my big brother and the Spirit as my friend and also Mary as my Nanay, my mother. When I’m praying, there is the disclosure of myself. It is a voluntary and graceful confession of who I am in relation to God. I have able to recognize my weaknesses and frailties and so I am dependent to God. But I have come to realize also the strengths that I have that God has given to me. I come to Him because there is some confidence in me that I am God’s child and it is a pleasure to Him to meet Him in prayer. Actually, it is God Himself who makes me realize that I am His own through my experiences in life both the good and traumatic experiences. And also, even through the people I have met along the way, who in one way or another have helped me to see myself and to see God in my life.

            Nonetheless, my attitude towards my relationship with God is honestly not perfect. I cannot put into numbers on how many times I became unfaithful and negligent to God in my prayers. Many a time I have taken for granted the moments that I have spent in prayer. St. Ignatius de Loyola pointed out that one of the reasons of dryness in the spiritual life is negligence. I have experienced desolation because of my own negligence. I became unfaithful when I committed sins especially those deliberate ones. I became untrue to myself when I chose and refused to accept that I need the help of God. How unfaithful I am to a God whose faithfulness never fades. Sometimes I am confronted with my guilt that really paralyzes me. But God never surrenders with me. He is so persistent, St. Teresa of Avila said. God reaches to me through other people. My spiritual directors, formators and friends are His instruments to remind me that He is a God whose love never ceases.

        This is one of the reasons why I took the risk to continue my formation despite the fear I have felt. Because of the love that I have experienced with God, He gave me the confidence and the serenity to take the step. Now, God invites me to rest in Him so that I’ll find strength. It is in prayer and while praying that I become more confident and positive of this journey because of the intimate relationship I have with my God. Despite  my imperfections and unworthiness God sees the goodness in me because He believes in me. It is my vocation now to believe in His love for me.

Matigsalug Immersion: Discovering the fount of Generosity

            As soon as we got off from the Rural transit bus we had immediately set ourselves for another trip going to Sitio Contract of Barangay Salumay, Marilog District, Davao City which was about 9 kilometres from the highway. It was a 30-minute drive by means of a “Skylab” – a motorcycle with two flat wooden-seemed-wings. During the trip I enjoyed very much to be on the left wing of the skylab even though my position was very tiring. I had to hold the tank with my right hand and keep my left hand holding the side bar of the wooden-seemed-wing to make sure my safety for the whole trip. And yet, I had to keep both of my legs close to hold and support the rice and other goods with me. And as we set off to Sitio Contract the rain started also to fall. By the time we have reached the area, we were all wet. I was indeed all wet! However, the trip was so exciting and fascinating and wonderful.

          As soon as we were ready for the welcome ceremony, we met the children and the other members of the community to begin the ritual. A white chicken was sacrificed and prayers were chanted in traditional Matigsalog dialect. A small amount of blood was placed into the plate where we dipped our fingers and made a mark on our palms. The rest of the blood where placed into the soil and where the chicken after cutting its throat was released. As the chicken jerked and jolted for its last breath, it moved around, here and there until it stopped with its head pointing the east. It was a good sign! It is an old indigenous belief that as the blood of the chicken is sacrificed for the spirits, the chicken’s head would give a message to the community. If it points to the south or north, it means neutral, neither good nor bad. If it would be pointing the east, it is a good sign. But when the head points to the west, it means a bad sign, a bad omen for the visitors and for the tribe.

      It was a ritual invoking the spirits that surround us to tell the community if our (seminarians) intention of coming there is pure. It was as well asking those spirits for guidance and blessing throughout our immersion with the Matigsalug. A traditional dance with the accompaniment of the traditional Matigsalog musical instruments such as the Kuglong – looks like a guitar but has only two strings (used by men) and the Saluray – also a stringed instrument made out of bamboo (used by women).

              The term Matigsalug actually means “people along the Salug River” (now Davao River). It was said that their original settlement was at the mouth of Salug River, which is now Davao City. It was said as well that they were part of the Manobo Tribe, a Malayo-Polynesian origin. During those years when they were at the mouth of the river, a time came when pirates and other invaders of the land harassed them. This caused the Matigsalug to move further up the Salug River. Yet when other invaders of Indonesian origin came into their place, the Matigsalug had experienced more harassment in their mid-latitude habitation. Consequently, it drove them away from their original settlement and led them instead to where they are now. At present, these people occupy mainly Central Mindanao and specifically the Province of Bukidnon and at its boundaries.

               And there, with these people I had the experience of eating, sleeping, playing, working, laughing, talking, dancing, singing and praying and more. And if I would have a glance at it, my immersion seemed to be more of a weekend recreation or a vacation. I was there without any program or input to give like in the missions I had. I was there to enjoy their company. I was called by the children Kakey (pronounced as KAKOY) which means an older brother or sister for it is a general term that applies to both sexes. And to the elders, I was called Tate (pronounced as TATO) which means younger one but equivalent to the Visayan dialects as Toto for the Illongos or Dodong for the Cebuano speakers. And I went to their farm too, to the nearby houses and went to their wonderful water falls. I ate their food, stayed in their house, and shared their blanket. Moreover, I listened to some of their painful and wonderful life and faith stories.

            And nevertheless, when I looked deeply into my short experience of living with them I found it essentially rich and wonderful. I was received into a house, as they would call it, with almost nothing but an elevated cut-flat wood floor evidently residues from timbers which were slightly burned. The wall was made from bamboo strips and partly some plywood and metal roof which were given by one of the biggest broadcasting network in the country. In one corner as well were bags and sacks filled with clothes probably clothes they received from the city during Christmas seasons. There was a small portion also for the dirty kitchen with a small table and a bench. And yet, I had the experience of a true HOME! It was a home indeed. Even though my Nanay Telma was a widow and has 10 children from the ages of 25 to 3 years old, she managed to feed her children at least. Honestly, it was too difficult for her to send them to school for she needs money for that and certainly one cannot go to school without any single penny. And yet I was so surprised to the kind of generosity this widow has. Despite her situation of being a widow, which means having no partner in supporting the family but only her teenage and adult children, she could give whatever she has to people who come to her. I was a witness to that. Some of the families where my brother-seminarians stayed and other neighbours come to her to ask for some vegetables, rice, native coffee or anything that she has. The person who came and asked would always have something. And the fact of accepting me in her house, in their wonderful home, was actually a risk and a demand for her. She always provided me with something to eat and I always got the bigger portion or more food for that is the culture. She even provided me with foam for sleeping which she borrowed from the other village that I won’t feel so much cold in the night. She covered my feet with extra blanket to ease the freezing dawn.

(from left to right: Dennis, Nilo, Maylene, Nanay Telma, Jan-jan, Jomil, Jerome-in green tshirt and the rests are silingan lang...)

               And one of the wonderful events that I had in that immersion was the deep and intimate exchanging and sharing of stories of life. Those were stories of life’s struggles, pains, doubts and as well as joys, wonder and faith. These stories moved me from tears to laughter and from worries to wonder. Then, in the course of our stories I was caught in the spontaneous statement of Nanay Telma, she said to me, “Ug kining tanan, Tate, giisip nako nga mga grasya sa Ginoo” (And all of these, Tate, I take them as graces from God). Everything! Indeed, are graces from God. Precisely, this makes my Nanay generous for she sees God’s generosity in her life. With all the hardships and struggles and deprivation and poverty there is so much grace in her life and with the whole family and certainly with the entire community of Sitio Contract.

A Response to God's Invitation

            At daybreak of Sundays I would wake up excitedly to take shower and take my favorite polo out of the dresser and I would drink my milk or coffee. My mother or my elder sister would iron my polo and let me dress with baby powder underneath my polo to make me fresher. When I’m done, I would wait for my parents outside the door until they would come out and ready to depart and attend the first mass at the parish church four kilometers away. I would jump excitedly to the tricycle to take a ride with my parents and other siblings. And every Sunday in the early morning we would go to the church for the Holy mass. Every time I would hear the bells from the altar servers I would enthusiastically look at the far end of the Church to follow the solemn procession from the church’s door to the sanctuary. I would look intently at the last person of the procession admiring and dreaming of the colorful vestment of the priest. When the priest would be in the sanctuary I would always imagine that I am at his side with a colorful dress that differs from time to time from green, violet, white and red. After the mass, I would eagerly run near the sanctuary to struggle with other children to take the hand of the priest and receive his blessing. Then I would run to my parents and demand to buy me a balloon.

            This repeated custom in the family had brought me into a deep awareness that I have this kind of particular faith. Although my parents are not highly active in other church’s activities and obligations, we children were raised to be oriented of our faith. During the month of May, which is dedicated for Mary I was always excited to go to our nearest chapel and join other children for what we called “Flores de Mayo” or flowers of May. So, in the morning with my younger brother and other playmates we would go to our neighbors where we could get some flowers to offer to Mama Mary in the afternoon. After lunch, my brother and I would wait for our neighbors to come and join them to go to the chapel. For the whole afternoon we would receive catechesis with some games and snacks afterwards. At the end of every catechesis before the snacks we would offer our flowers to the altar where Mama Mary was situated for veneration. With other children, I would follow the procession going to the altar with my cute box made out of “lion-tiger katol” filled with different flowers. We would all do those while singing the song “O Maria, Rayna sa Pilipinas” (O Mary, Queen of the Phillipines), when we approached the altar we would kneel and offer our flowers before the statue of the Our Lady of Fatima. And this practice during the summer would excite me always and I would always wait for the next coming May.

            It was during this time that I became aware that I want to become a person who would lead other people in prayer. And so, there was a time in our place that our elderly people whom we called the “antiques” successively left this life. And every month or two months there would be like a feast day. There was always a banquet prepared for those who would go to the funeral which I really enjoyed. I learned how to play cards that time and even on how to play mahjong and other sorts of gambling. Nonetheless, there was a significant experience of mine this time that had greatly influenced my dream in life. Since these funerals were always there, by tradition there should be a prayer for the dead from the first day of the funeral wake until the end of forty days. The “mananabtan” or the prayer leader for the dead is the respected person and celebrity of this kind of custom. We have only few mananabtans and one of them was our close neighbor who happened to be the mother of my close playmate too. The mananabtan would get always an invitation not from the dead but from the family (of course). And it became an opportunity for me to join with her and with my other playmates in the prayers. There, we would help in uttering the responses of the rosary and the novena for the dead while silently playing, teasing, and giggling at the back. Those days were very funny and I enjoyed it going to different houses and praying to different dead people, listening to the way the prayers were chanted and most especially enjoying the hot coffee or cold soft drinks and hard bread afterwards which was really my intention. Joining these prayers were my good excuses to my mother also to delay my study time which I really hate most before.

            It was around this time too that I was in the third grade in elementary and I took seriously my classes in catechesis once or twice a week. This time I had a deeper sense of my faith perhaps significantly shaped by our economical situation in the family. Financially, we struggled, especially my parents when my three sisters were all in college and the salary of my father couldn’t support their tuition fees satisfactorily. However, my mother found another way to help my father and that was in making homemade Filipino delicacies such as suman, puto, enfanada, pilipit, banana que and etc. My younger brother and I radically helped also in this by taking those homemade delicacies around our place. Nonetheless, this story had helped me to articulate what I want in my life. I could animatedly still remember what I answered to my religion teacher that time when she asked me, “Unsa’y imung pangandoy inig dako nimu?” (What is your dream when you grow up?) And I answered with enthusiasm in the class, “mahimong pari!” (To become a priest!) And she appreciated my answer and wished that I would pursue that dream.

            However, what made me think of this kind of dream? When I was younger, I have admired priests already. The way they spoke and deliver their homily would always amaze me. I would always spectacularly look at the priests wearing their vestments though they looked like wearing old women’s dusters. Moreover, I always noticed that people would laugh, nod their heads and listen attentively to the homily and sometimes my mother would shed a tear listening to a pitiful story that would make me wonder. Priests are respected always. People would bow to them, say something nice, greet them enthusiastically, listen to what they are saying and providing them the best thing people could offer. Indeed, there is a high regard for someone who is a priest. During barrio masses, the priest arrives in the chapel with an empty car but after the mass he would have a heavy and full of loads in his car. People always love to give the priests anything they can offer from the simplest vegetables to a big amount of money. And that’s how priests are treated. And I imagined, I want to be like that!

            Nevertheless, that dream of a grade three pupil had slowly being abandoned. I told my parents and my sisters about it but they said to me that to become a priest is very expensive which we cannot surely afford. I have to study at least for ten years and I have to be intelligent. I remember my second elder sister saying to me; “all your grades should have to be eighty-five and above.” Unfortunately, I struggled to have eighty.

to be continued...