Warm Greetings from Lipa!
A lot of things have happened in the Asia-Oceania common novitiate. And since I find it difficult to convey the nooks and crannies of our experiences, I’ll use the imageries of Sendong and the recent earthquake which struck Negros and Cebu to describe what has happened within ourselves over the months. I fear that I might be exaggerating things. But come to think of it, each of us in this Redemptorist journey has our share of “storms and quakes” that have brought out the real and the best in us after the seemingly interminable havocs encountered along the way.
Just as Sendong had deeply impacted the Pasko of the Kagay-anons, the leaving of our bros. Vince Chloe, Kenneth and Sern had affected the general disposition of the rest of the novices amidst the jovial atmosphere of the Christmas season. The series of leaving, which roughly happened week after week, toned down our festive celebration of the yuletide days. Personally, their leaving made me ask myself, “What is making me stay?” I found out later that the rest of my brothers who stayed behind were asking themselves the same thing. In a positive light, this particular storm compelled us to purify our motivations. I must say that we commend the courage of our brothers Vince Chloe, Kenneth and Sern who after careful discernment, decided for themselves to take on new paths in life, paths which are generally unfamiliar to them. We will never forget the wonderful experiences we have shared with them. As we continue to pray for our own vocations, they are rest assured of our prayers as well. So long dear brothers, ‘til our paths cross again!
One of the highlights of January was our Exposure-Immersion to the different sectors situated around different parts of Luzon. This event is one of the unique and defining modules of the EXODUS classes. With novices from other participating congregations, we spent ten days in our respective assigned areas. (Bros. Regan and Ranmal in TALA leprosarium; Bro. Dom with the Fisherfolks of San Diego, Batangas; Bro. Jomil in the Farmers of Pampanga; and I with the Indigenous People-Aetas of Haduan, near Clark Air Base) By the end of ten days, each of us was saying that the experience was truly enriching, meaningful and inspiring. I could very well attest to that. True enough, I never expected that it would be the Aetas who would teach me what joy and selfless love truly mean. We thought that we were sent there to make a difference. But it was the people whom we had encountered who made a difference in our lives.
Currently, we are now in the final quarter of our novitiate journey. It seems that the storms have come to relapse. A process of letting the insights and learning, brought about by various experiences, sink in into the deepest recesses of our minds and hearts is taking place. I see the novitiate as an opportunity of letting our roots run deep into the ground, making the very foundations and essentials of our vocation journey sturdily grounded. One question that comes to my mind is “How is my faith and love for Christ after all these experiences?” Needless to say, this faith and love which have immensely transformed us will be the saving grace to keep us standing when the storms and quakes come again.

“Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my father in heaven.”-Mt 7:21

Faith-Sharing
For who I am now and what I have become so far, I know I should be thanking a lot of people. Lately, I have come to realize how I have failed to express this gratitude to God and to the specific persons who have helped me in various ways in my life journey. Hence I have recently resolved myself to spend some time writing and sending letters so that I may put my “salamats” into words and communicate them to certain individuals. This is my way of making amends with my past and celebrating the gift of my present life—the noviciate.
As I was beginning to write my letters of thanks, I have been caught up between doing the task in the traditional way—the handwritten style or making it typewritten and sending it via e-mail. Nowadays, the former seemed to be a thing of the past, old-fashioned and requires quite a lot of work as compared to the latter which appears to be more convenient. This is so not only because typing is rather effortless as compared to writing but even the manner of sending mails, whether by way of post or e-mail, has a glaring difference. E-mail is certainly better off than Snail mail, or so it seems. The temptation is to do it the easy way. Yet after some thinking over what should be done, I saw that my purpose is defeated when I settle for the convenient way. Writing in drafts and rewriting it for a final copy may sound tedious. But it dawns on me that it can be a way of showing how thankful I am to the person receiving the letter. The effort and the intentionality involved in writing it capture, aside from the words therein, my expression of sincere and heartfelt gratitude.
Words will merely be empty rhetoric unless they are lived, applied and acted upon. It is one thing to say thank you. Yet I find it more meaningful and worthwhile to show how thankful I am not only in words but in actions. The same goes with faith. Professing my belief in Jesus Christ is not the same as leading a life grounded on a belief in Jesus Christ. This is the message of the Gospel for me today: to be a man who has a word of honor, a man true to his words. It is challenging me not just to say what I mean, but mean what I say. Indeed Jesus’ powerful message is true: “Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my father in heaven.”-Mt 7:21
As I ponder my life, I feel ashamed and guilty of the countless times that I have not been true to my word to many people. Yet even more shameful are the instances when I have not been true to my promise to God. I have been very inconsistent, saying “yes” to God but finding myself leading a life doing otherwise. God has been the only one who has been truthful to his promise of loving me and of being always with me. There remains this feeling of unworthiness to stand before God as I recall the numerous times that I have turned away from Him trying to search for meaning and fulfillment on other things but to no avail One time when my teaching job was about to end, a friend of mine asked me what were my next plans. I told him, “I am going back to the seminary.” She then had a curt reply, “Aren’t you just wasting your time?” Her spontaneous remark had left me stunned for a while. It kept me thinking how true I was to my word. Was I really sincere of, in a sense, leaving the world behind in lieu of following Christ the Redeemer? Was I ready to face the gravity and the consequences of saying “Yes” to God?
Before, I may have associated the noviciate to a prison. But I see noviciate now as my rite of passage to manhood. I am not, and I don’t need to be a boy anymore who tends to be immature and irresponsible to choices I make. I must face this life that I have freely chosen. I have to walk the talk. And though it seems that this road that I’m taking is narrow and uncertain, I press on still for I know that God’s grace suffices. To be honest, the temptation to succumb to secular and worldly life still teases me. Even the invitation to take another vocation does not slip my mind. Just recently, an ex-girlfriend of mine who has lately been keeping in touch e-mailed me saying, “I hope I am not talking to a priest right now, you know I’ll always be waiting.” But God knows I have resolved myself. I have never felt this free before. In my heart, I know I have chosen a path that is wonderful, meaningful and worthwhile. This will be my way of facing God as a man, of rising up once more from where I have fallen, and of being true to my promise just as He continues to be.

Prayer: A Buried Treasure

I woke up in the middle of dawn. I didn’t know what had awakened me. Though feeling half-asleep, it hit me that I had forgotten to pray that night. And so, I bowed down my head and talked to God whom I suspect was the culprit for having interrupted my sleep. And then, I felt peace. After I prayed, I dozed off.
When I was young, I was taught by my parents that you could talk to God through prayer. Adding to this, you could also present your wishes to God which had the chance of being granted depending on how you have behaved that day. These ideas gave me the impression that prayer is something that costs quite an effort. It was something that you work for—that you needed to please God in order for your wants and wishes to be granted by him. It didn’t take too long when I was by and by setting aside my prayer life. My eagerness to pray waned. I just thought that God was too demanding. Pleasing anyone even God was just not my forte.
As I grew up, my prayer life changed as the way my image of God changed. There came a time when I experienced God as a loving person who understood and accepted me as I am. During this time, God became my confidante. My prayers were then opportunities of ventilating to God my struggles and problems in life. Most of the time, I was the one talking to him, telling him my thoughts, reflections and inner yearnings in life. From an image of a God who wanted to be pleased, I knew Him now as a friend who listens and journeys along with me in life. This would be then my attitude and understanding of prayer in my early years in the seminary.
Yet there still came a time when I began to lose my habit of praying. This was particularly true when I had a teaching job. Living outside the walls of the seminary meant detachment from a structured prayer life. Before I knew it, my appreciation and love for prayer were then slipping away. In times of being unable to pray, I justified myself that I was either too busy or exhausted from work. I knew for myself that these were half-meant or even not totally true. They were alibis to veil the startling truth that I just refused to talk to God anymore. But even in the times of my “turning away” from God, I still suspected that He was constantly extending Himself, making His presence felt in my seemingly preoccupied and restless life. I would wake up in the middle dawn having forgotten to pray the night before. He wanted to reconnect. It dawned on me that I felt the same.
Recently, I realize that one of the reasons why I came back to the seminary is to befriend again the God who I thought I lost. Just as my relationship with God has its ups and downs, so too is my prayer life. If I am to describe what my prayer life is like at this moment, it will be like this: A young man is digging up a treasure that he has buried before in his earlier years. The digging is quite laborious and is taking long. He begins feeling anxious and worried. The treasure might not be there already. Someone might have stumbled upon it and kept it for himself. He might be digging in a wrong spot. But his hope never fades. His faith tells him to go on. Until he finally finds what he is looking for. He finds the treasure. He is elated, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy. He clutches the treasure with his hand as if it is his most prized possession. He ponders the value of his treasure and savors that very moment.
Prayer for me today means pondering God’s presence. Now, I keep myself still and let myself be in awe and amazement at this great and unfathomable God. Not much talking and thinking is required, only loving. His friendship is the treasure I once buried, but now I so cherish. And somehow, I can’t help myself but to share this treasure to others as well.

“And the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world”

Growing up in high school, my family ran a small bakery shop just beside our house. I remember being greeted every morning with the wonderful smell of freshly baked pan de sal that had just been taken out in the oven. During weekends, I would gaze with curiosity and awe at the minute details of how a dough is made and processed; how it finally ends up in becoming good-tasting bread. Occasionally with the baker’s guidance and instructions, I would participate in the making of the bread; beginning from the mixing of the necessary ingredients, kneading the dough when it is formed, cutting it into the prescribed weight and sizes and finally letting the dough be cooked into the oven. The rest would be putting the bread into display for people to purchase them. There was a special feeling of pride and gladness in seeing people buying and eating the bread on which I had spent some amount of labor.
Situated a stone-throw away from our house was a slum area where most of my childhood playmates and friends reside. One time, I invited some of them to come over at our house. Upon arriving, I pleaded to my mom to give them free bread to eat. I did that because I know for a fact that these guys were always hungry, some who in their houses have barely even something to eat. On that day, there was again that special feeling of pride and gladness in being able to share our bread to the poor of our neighborhood.
Reflecting on the gospel of today wherein Jesus reveals himself to us that He is the bread of life brought back my own memories of making and sharing bread with other people. Yet while pondering God’s word, I noticed that the familiar feeling of pride and gladness that I have felt before are gone. It dawned on me that when I compare my own act of sharing bread to my friends, with that of Jesus giving himself as bread to others, my efforts were of little value. Although I honor that positive sense in me to be thoughtful of others, I am guilty of the fact that that my acts of giving were blemished with impure intentions and immature motivations. In hindsight, part of my being generous was to please my friends. I was giving because I expected something in return. It was certainly convenient for me to give off something that did not really matter that much at that time. In the midst of my attitude of seemingly being generous, was the guilty presence of selfishness.
Jesus is totally otherwise. While I give out of convenience and excess, He gives until it hurts. He has even given his own life just so that others may have life, just so that I may have a true and meaningful life. He lets himself be vulnerable. He has suffered and endured pain. What a great love! I realize that this is what true love really means. It is when I am willing to sacrifice, to be vulnerable, to be helpless, to suffer even to the extent of laying down my own life for the sake of the other, only then will I gain the right to say that I am truly giving—that I am truly loving.
In the initial days of my noviciate journey, I felt displaced and unsecure. The sacrifice of throwing away life’s conveniences, of being away from my loved ones, made no sense. I struggled. I was unsure of how long will I last. I questioned God, “Is this the best way for me to love?” Unknowingly, those doubts, fears and pains were God’s ways of telling what generosity and love truly means. Give up your own self. Love until it hurts. I realize now that I am like a dough in the hands of a baker who kneads, cuts and transforms the dough into bread. God is now the baker. As I see it, Jesus is transforming my life.
The giving of his own life has given me new life. My noviciate life is my way of returning the favor and passing on his example.

The Christ in the Farmers

There is this Greek term in theology known as kenosis describing God emptying Himself for the salvation of His people. This self-emptying of God had its ultimate expression in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the Son of God who sacrificed himself for the atonement of the sins of humankind. I came across this teaching through seminary studies and professors of theology. Yet little did I know that the kind of people who would really make me understand this truth would come from the humblest of sectors of our society—the farmers.
The week-long orientation of the newly hired ACD teachers, guidance counselors and office personnel reached its final toll with an exposure in Brgy. Salvacion, Sitio Cogonon, Trento, Agusan. It was an opportunity to have a first-hand experience of the lives of the farmers. After a trip of more than three hours in a rented van, the place could be accessible via a 30-minute ride with a 5 to 6-seater katig-motorcycle. I must say, the travel by motorcycle was one heck of a bumpy ride leaving us exposurees calling out to God for our dear lives.
But the most striking experience for me was coming to see and feel the pitiful situation of most farmers in the area. Since most of the agricultural plain lands were owned by big corporations and private companies, farmers are forced to plant on distant and steep terrains deep in the forest. It took us more than an hour of hiking just to reach a relatively small area of rice plantation in a bakilid terrain. Despite the scorching heat of the sun, we tried to accompany the farmers in harvesting. Yet unlike the lumad farmers, we did not stand too long since the toil proved to be too much to bear for most of us. The thought that a single grain of rice is borne out of a farmer’s single drop of sweat finally made sense to me. Personally, the impact and learning drawn out of the Exposure-Immersion experience was far more moving than any book, movie or case study could give. It was as if blinders had been taken out of my eyes. At that moment, I was grateful that I knew and felt how it’s like to be a farmer.
Christ’s act of kenosis or self-emptying is a redeeming sacrifice for others. In the same way, the farmers of our country are doing that same act of self-emptying. They are the silent heroes who empty themselves just so that others may live. I find it ironic that those who toil in planting and harvesting our country’s staple food are those who have less or even nothing to eat. They are the Christ who are persecuted and crucified by the unjust system of our society. Thanks to them, they have taught me who Christ truly is.

Postulancy formation... for-mission

Our Postulant Director once told us that when it comes to any stage of Redemptorist seminary formation, Postulancy stands closest to the actual Redemptorist way of life. Unlike college which generally stresses academic formation, postulancy allows formandis to have much time being immersed into the mission areas. For us postulants, one thing that stands out among many experiences we’ve had is indeed mission. As one confrere rightly puts it, “Mission is the flagship of our congregation.” That may have been the reason why mission is clearly stressed as early as collegiate, and continues to be so as one progresses in formation. And, although we have been involved in many other wonderful activities such as ecumenical forums, vocation promotions and lots of pamiesta and Pamertday (fiesta and birthday celebrations), much of our time have been devoted to mission.
The current mission here in Dumaguete is in Sibulan. If I’m not mistaken, a Redemptorist mission was held in the same place many years before. Sibulan, the port in Negros across the island of Cebu, is a developing municipality. Known for its devotion to San Antonio de Padua which falls on every 13th day of the month, thousands of believers from all walks of life would flock the believed-to-be miraculous image of St. Anthony offering him their petitions and devotions. The first missionaries who settled and initially developed the place were Agustinian Recollects. It was up until recently that the Parish was handed over to the Diocesan clergy.
Like many developing places, a lot of issues that have emerged from Sibulan are being faced up by its Church. One evident concern that has come into sight is morality. Currently, a lot of night clubs, bars and motels have been put up which consequently encourages prostitution and moral devaluation. Many foreigners have become attracted with the place because of this growing business. And, the local government and the Sibulanons seem to have mixed, if not indifferent, reactions regarding the issue.
Doing mission in this semi-rural and semi-urban area can be quite testing. One particular goal of doing mission in this place is to encourage the people to live their faith. Addressing this challenge to people, whether they be from bukid or poblacion, requires a lot of initiative and creativity on the part of us missioners. The constant question for us is “how do we become living witnesses of the Gospel values in this kind of society?” By the time the mission in Sibulan has culminated, which is on Dec. 13, we still may have not figured out the sufficient answer to the question. But, we are certain that we have made a difference in our own humble ways. The challenge of doing mission is indeed not that simple and easy. Yet it is a journey worth taking precisely because it is a way of witnessing to the faith.