with you, always

Foundation Day Celebrations Letter to Parents

2009-01-25T21:39:00.000-08:00

January 26, 2009

Dear Parents,

A Happy Don Bosco Day!

These coming days lead to the 31^st of January, the Solemnity of St. John Bosco.

Beginning tomorrow, there will be a special schedule. For the details, please see the timetable given to you through your sons. Here are some guidelines that we would like you to be clear with:

1. January 27-30 are regular class days and thus, the students are obliged to come to school for the Foundation Day Activities.

2. During the Foundation Day Celebrations, the high school students are asked to bring their Student’s Handbook and ID Cards (both School and Foundation Day IDs).

3. These days, the School Uniform is to be worn by the high school students.

4. The students bring extra clothes to be worn for certain activities (outreach, manual work and games).

5. These days, our Bosconians may bring with them mobile phones and electronic gadgets.

6. The time for reporting to school and for going home will vary depending on the timetable for each day.

On Saturday, January 31, the students are not obliged to go to school for the NUV activity. On Sunday, February 1, those who are in-charge of exhibits are asked to come since these will be open to our Mass-goers. On February 2, Monday, there will be no classes. Regular classes resume on February 3, Tuesday.

We thank you and likewise invite you to come to our school and see our different activities. God bless!

In Don Bosco,

Fr. Joel N. Camaya, SDB

High School Principal

P.S. For more details on the Foundation Day Celebrations, please see the following website: http://dbcanlubang.info

Perchance to Dream

2008-06-19T14:19:00.000-07:00

To be, or not to be: that is the question….

...To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream….

- Shakespeare, Hamlet, III,i.

My love for literature was born when I was in third year high school. It was ironic for that was the stage in my life when my self-esteem was at the cellar, when my productivity as a person seemed to be stifled by adolescence. Yet this is not the topic I wish to develop at this moment.

I wish to dwell on that love I have for literature. That year, we were reading selections in English literature. Our teacher introduced to us the epic Beowulf

, the Arthurian legends, and later, the works of Shakespeare. A reading of the Sonnets awakened the poet in me. We also sat through an interpretation (more of a rendition for television) of Hamlet.

Days before we watched the production, I read through some of the more famous lines of this Shakespearean tragedy. I had reported on Act 1, Scene 4, one of the ghost scenes. But the famous soliloquy in Act 3, Scene 1 caught my eye and my heart: “To be or not to be: that is the question.” Watching Hamlet made me yearn for one of my life’s dreams—to play the part of the tragic protagonist, Hamlet.

Today I turn 36 and I am resigned to the fact that I will never essay that role. (I would have to be content with reciting the lines in my private moments!) But my reflection on this day of my birth touches this Shakespearean play. Shakespeare was about my age when he wrote Hamlet. Nay more, the plays (almost all) that were written after he turned 36 were tragedies: the most elevated of all theatrical forms; theatre at its most serious tone, drama at its best. Perhaps they reflected the stage (no pun intended) that Shakespeare had reached that time, a stage that demanded more attention, when we work on the even more noble things in life.

The words from the famous soliloquy may well be the sentiments of the playwright: it is a question

to be or not to be

, a question that goes beyond what the character meant, as I take the license to wrench it away from what Shakespeare intended and make it my own. It is a question of really existing, of truly living. To sleep: perchance to dream—this particular birthday of mine, I would like to go even further. It beckons and asks me to continue dreaming, not only for myself but for the people around me—family, school, congregation.

Today, I thank God for the gift of life, for the gift of so many people dear to me. I thank him for the many gifts that he continually bestows on me. Year after year, crisis after crisis, I have persevered in his grace. 36 is actually the sum of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8. What I am right now is the sum of the many graces God has given me since the beginning, my birth. In joy I look back at all these and then look forward: aye, perchance to dream!

NOLI ME TANGERE

2008-03-27T16:24:00.000-07:00

Everyday this week, from last Sunday to this coming Sunday, the masses we celebrate take on an ambience more festive than any other week of the year. We celebrate the Easter Octave, a whole week when at mass we sing the Gloria, reminding us that each day takes the rank of a feast. We likewise append alleluias to the dismissal and its response: “Go in the peace of Christ. Alleluia, alleluia. Thanks be to God. Alleluia, alleluia.”

Despite the stress-filled yearend decisions, information and activities, the celebration of Easter this year remains pleasantly memorable to me. I hold it as a beautiful privilege to hold aloft the Paschal Candle in the night of the vigil and sing “Christ our Light!” and also to sing the Easter Proclamation, the Exsultet. I have done it before—in Tuloy sa Don Bosco (2000), St. John Bosco Parish in Tondo (2001), Don Bosco Batulao (2005) and Don Bosco Canlubang (last year)—but I was still trembling this time.

Easter Sunday came and the beautiful feeling of new life continues these days. One memorable gospel passage this week was the one read on Tuesday (Jn 20:11-18). It is one of the famous resurrection scenes, that of the encounter between Mary Magdalene and our Resurrected Lord. One famous phrase that is often quoted from this passage (that even Rizal used as the title of his novel) is the Latin expression “Noli me tangere” (the original of which, of course, is in koine Greek) which we readily translate to “Touch me not.” However, that translation is misleading, for it seems to be a command that is forbidding.

Other translations yield the beauty of the situation that was there in the encounter between Jesus and Mary Magdalene, as in the following: “Stop holding on to me” or “Stop clinging to me…” It tells us of Mary’s joy in seeing the Lord. So excited was she that she couldn’t help but hold onto Jesus.

It is this same kind of joy that we feel when we encounter Jesus after realizing the love he has for us, after a long time of suffering, or after a long dry spell of being away from him on account of our sinfulness. We cling to him and gently and smilingly would tell us, “Noli me tangere.” For how we see and touch him today is not the end, but merely a foretaste of what is to come, when we, like him, would ascend to the Father. May this season be full of God’s experience for all of us.

Happy Easter, alleluia!

Watch and Pray

2008-03-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

The Thursday of all Thursdays has once again come with the beginning of this year’s Paschal Triduum. These following days are the most solemn time of the Liturgical Year with the celebration of the Easter Vigil as the summit of the calendar of the Church.

As a child I have always looked forward to this time of the year, not with joyful anticipation as I do at Christmas time, but with solemn excitement over the novelties of practices: the penitents (salibatbat in our Kapampangan language)—men flagellating themselves, or carrying their crosses, or crawling on the dirt; the pasyon, the Seven Last Words at the Cathedral, the tanggal followed by the Celebration of the Lord’s Passion and Veneration of the Cross and the procession of the Santo Entierro around the town.

When I entered the minor seminary of Don Bosco Juniorate, I had a closer look into the liturgy as we took some time learning the songs and practicing the services for the Triduum. When I was in third year high school I was chosen as one of the apostles whose feet were washed in the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. After the Mass we took turns to spend at least an hour of adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, in commemoration of Jesus’ words “Stay awake, watch, pray.” (cf. Mt 26:41)

This is something that I have seriously taken every year during the Paschal Triduum. The liturgical celebration is so rich and through all of these God speaks to us over and over again, reminding us of the words spoken by his Son at the Last Supper: “No greater love one has than to lay down his life for his friends.” (Jn 15:13)

Our dialogue with God continues. In the solemnity of these days, do not forget: watch and pray.

THE Thursday

2008-03-19T21:50:00.000-07:00

This is the day of La lumière, the name of my site. The weekly newsletter of the department I am handling comes out every Thursday. As this is the most important Thursday of the year, it is worthwhile to look at the reason behind the special character of this day of the week.

Every Thursday, in praying the rosary, we meditate upon the mysteries of light, and thus, the name La lumière. These mysteries culminate in the institution of the Eucharist by our Lord: Holy Thursday. This Lord’s Supper the institution of which we celebrate today, begins the Easter Triduum which leads to our celebration of Easter, the commemoration of the Lord’s resurrection. Thursday thus becomes the light that leads us into the threshold of the summit of our Christian life: celebrating Life—Jesus rising again to life.

Let the ponderings that we make these days of the Triduum and throughout the Easter Season make us even more thankful of the gift of Thursday: the gift of Christ’s love and service, the gift of his presence—so vivid in the Last Supper!

A blessed Paschal Triduum to each one of you!

the day after ash wednesday

2008-02-07T19:00:00.000-08:00

Ash Wednesday ushered in the Lenten Season which comes quite early this year. All of the priests in our community were occupied with a minimum of two masses. The six o’clock evening Mass in our chapel was jampacked, comparable with the masses held on Sunday. It was a day of fasting and abstinence, and so yesterday’s breakfast was really a case of breaking the fast.

So what do we do the day after Ash Wednesday? Continue the spirit of the season of Lent which has just begun—prayer, sacrifice, works of charity: done in an even greater intensity.

However, the day after Ash Wednesday means something else to me. I do not know about our present pope, Benedict XVI, but in the time of the late Pope John Paul II, he reserved the day after Ash Wednesday as the time to meet the clergy of the diocese of Rome of which he is Bishop.

I was able to join such meeting in 2002, when I was a deacon. I looked forward to that day and prepared to wear my best. Together with others I was admitted into the Vatican through the Bronze Door. We were led by Swiss guards through the marble halls until we reached the hall where the Pope would hold the audience. We seated ourselves and waited. Then the Pope was wheeled in. Several parish priests delivered their addresses as did Cardinal Ruini, the Pope’s Vicar in the diocese of Rome. The Pope then delivered a written speech and then spoke spontaneously, a discourse which we all enjoyed.

Then came the awaited moment. We all fell in line and waited to greet the Pope personally. I had wanted to greet the Pontiff with words like greetings from the Filipino people and the Salesians, but the moment I knelt before him, I was speechless in ecstasy. I looked at his eyes and he looked kindly at me. It was a moment I will always savor. This made the day after Ash Wednesday a day for me to treasure. It was a day when I blurted out: I can die now, for I have met the Pope! Much like the
Nunc dimittis of Simeon (cf. Luke 2:29-32). May this Lenten Season on the other hand draw from us the same phrase for in it we meet Christ even more closely. God bless your 40 days!

A Spoonful of Honey

2008-01-28T12:18:00.000-08:00

Last January 24, feast of St. Francis de Sales, I wrote the following piece.

I am a Salesian. Whenever I say this to people who are not so familiar with our charism I am immediately asked other questions as follow up: "Why Salesian? Why not Bosconian priest? Your Congregation was founded by St. John Bosco, was it not?" And I would have to do some further explanations, of course in the long run naming St. Francis de Sales as as our titular patron chosen by Don Bosco himself.

When I was a student in Rome, I had the privilege to take part in a retreat traced the footprints of St. Francis de Sales. We had as base the retreat house Centre Jean XXIII (see the website of this beautiful retreat center at http://www.centrejean23.org/main.htm), at Annecy, France (Haute-Savoie province, Rhone-Alpes region). The region of St. Francis de Sales was picturesque. Annecy had a beautiful lake and a panorama of the Alps served as backdrop.

We went to places that were significant in the life and work of St. Francis. I saw the site of the castle of Sales where he was born; the font where he was baptized; La Roche which was the district where he studied; Thonon, where he preached and converted a lot of people; the woods where he climbed a tree on which he stayed all night in order to escape from the wolves. We went to Geneva, Switzerland, which became his See, despite the fact that it was a Protestant stronghold; Lyons, where he died; and of course, Annecy, where we prayed at his tomb.

Leading us in our pilgrimage was an amiable French confrere, Fr. Morand Wirth, who is an expert on the life and works of the saint. He said in jest that before becoming knowledgeable of St. Francis, he was a normal Salesian, that is, one who is not so familiar with this particular patron. He thus hit us with a sad truth: Salesians do not know much about the gentle Bishop of Geneva whose name they bear. At the end of the retreat, he laughed saying that we were less normal Salesians for now we knew more about St. Francis de Sales.

Personally, when I was a novice, I was deeply impressed by this saint. I was struck in particular with a book that he wrote: Introduction to the Devout Life. It spoke of the universal call to holiness. Sanctity is not only for priests or religious; it is for everyone. This brand of spirituality we bring even to the young people of our schools and oratories. Yes, the young can be saints.

Another thing which struck me were words of St. Francis that I have heard even earlier, as a high school student: "On attire plus les mouches avec une cuillerée de miel qu'avec cent barils de vinaigre." (“A spoonful of honey attracts more flies than a barrelful of vinegar.”) Our saint is known for his gentleness. By nature, he was choleric, but he mastered himself so that he became known for his meekness. In him we found the sweetness of God, the divine goodness that we find comforting.

Today, as we celebrate the feast of this saint, we thank God for the gift of a great example for humanity. May we be more Salesian by knowing this gentle soul of Sales. God bless!

From Bosconian to Salesian

2008-01-16T12:56:00.000-08:00

In the midst of the preparations for the coming feast of St. John Bosco, I go back to something that I have written in 2001. It is timely that I publish it this year as I am celebrating 25 years of entering Don Bosco as a student.

In the Salesian world, Tarlac will always be remembered as the locality of the first Don Bosco school in the Philippines. This is Don Bosco Tarlac that I hold dear in my heart. In the beginning it did not strike me as it does today. To the people of Tarlac, Don Bosco has always been known as the private school where the boys usually go. As a little kid I looked forward to studying there when I reached the fourth grade. My elder brother spent the latter part of his elementary years in this school. I first got to know Don Bosco from the school uniform that my brother wore.

My first day in Don Bosco was one I eagerly anticipated. How would it be? I had been there for the entrance examination, interview and enrolment, but I had no idea what to expect. The awaited moment arrived. It was neither a hall of cashiers’ windows nor a corridor of offices that greeted me. It was not even the sight of students lining up for class. It was the scene of basketball courts full of boys sweating it out in spontaneous games; and of the football field, with several balls flying to and fro. This was minutes before the assembly time! What a way to start the day! I smiled and felt at ease.

But it was not merely the start of a day; it was the start of another episode in life. In due time I came to know Don Bosco the person more profoundly, as also the people who bore his name—in their initials ‘SDB.’ They were all around, they, the brothers and priests who were visible among the students during breaks. They mingled with us. We talked; we played. One impressive image that recurs in my memory is that of a priest, in his cassock, in the middle of the football field, usually running and kicking the ball surrounded by the boys.

In Don Bosco Tarlac I found practices unique in Don Bosco: the weekly Mass (and the daily “free Masses”), singing practices, sodalities and youth groups, visits to the Blessed Sacrament, rosary at lunch break. There was a confessor who was available all the time. And you know what? My first year with Don Bosco was made even more special because it was the year of the visit of the Rector Major, Don Egidio Viganò. On this occasion, I was chosen to be one of the emcees under Bro. Dennis Paez.

One thing I liked about Don Bosco was the familiar air that was all around. Everybody knew one another, from Grade 4 to the Fourth Year. The physical structure of the school was ideal: except for the gym, one could see practically the whole compound. The chapel was accessible, as were the classrooms and the playground. When the principal stood in the middle of the football field, everyone else saw him and vice versa.

Days, weeks, months; a year, and another. From the world of the home, I ventured into another. The school became the tambayan. On weekends, I found myself at Don Bosco—not for curricular activities, but for extras: serving mass, Boy Scout activities, hanging around the rector’s office, and so on. Before I knew it, Don Bosco had become a second home.

That was why when the call to be a Salesian came, it did not come as a surprise. It had been there all along. God had been paving the path so that when the proper time came, I was ready. For my assent, I needed only the amplification of His voice through the Salesians themselves, and in my youthful vigor, I entered the high school seminary of Don Bosco Juniorate, Pampanga. However, though each life story is a continuum, that is another episode and this space does not allow me to dwell on it. Suffice it then to say that one episode led to another, and yes, eventually took me to where I am now as a Salesian.

Whenever doubts plague me, I look back at my experiences as a student at Don Bosco Tarlac and I end up saying, “I was a boy of Don Bosco,” in the same way as Rua, Cagliero and the other Salesians of times past and present have been boys of Don Bosco. Yes, I have basked in such a Salesian atmosphere and I realize this has been God’s way of encouraging me and sustaining me all these years.

Once, as a young Salesian, I had the chance to visit Don Bosco Tarlac. I was given the opportunity to give the good morning talk to the student body. A surge of exuberance filled my heart; a knot made its way to my throat. Some of my teachers were present. I told the Bosconians that it was a joy for me to come home and to see reflected in them what I had been years ago. It was with nostalgic incredulity that I looked at the part of the gymnasium where I had first stood as a grade four student. “Have I really been there?” I asked myself. And I told everyone that I was now in front, something I never imagined when as a boy I looked at the Salesians who normally stood before the assembly.

In my 25^th year as a Bosconian, I write as how a grateful son eulogizes a parent in a celebration meant for tribute, because this is how I look at Don Bosco Tarlac: a parent who has both sired and nursed in me the incipient call to follow Christ. I cannot but make references to my own humble beginnings. I am here, a Salesian, because Don Bosco was there in Tarlac. And to keep the paean ringing: in this school called Don Bosco lived the spirit of the man named Don Bosco. In this school lived year after year, Salesians who have carried on the task of preserving the spirit, keeping it alive, sharing it with Tarlaqueños.

In my good morning talk to the Tarlac Bosconians, I asked them, “Are you proud to be Bosconians? I’m sure you are.” There was an ardent wish within me: “I hope many more among them will take that step from their place to where I am.” From Bosconian to Salesian. From Tarlac to wherever Don Bosco is. After all, like them I am also a Tarlaqueño.

(picture shows me as a young Salesian in theology, the time I wrote this article)

God Walks on Brown Legs

2008-01-10T09:42:00.000-08:00

And found Him found Him found Him

Found the Hand to hold me up!

He held me like a burning poem

And waved me all over the world.

José Garcia Villa

It was late in the afternoon of January 9 in the Year of the Great Jubilee. It was a Sunday, but I was caught in a traffic jam. I was in the heart of the district of Quiapo. It had not occurred to me that it was the feast of the Black Nazarene. Rather than lose my cool and curse myself for having been at the wrong place at the wrong time, I was in a good mood and was a bit more reflective than usual. I was just there wondering at the sight of the great crowd, a mass of bodies that packed the lane. And they were men, not women. They who gathered were not there expecting edible giveaways; nor were they paid to go there. They were there on their own accord, moving with everybody else, savoring the delight of treading barefoot in procession accompanying the figure of the famous Black Nazarene of Quiapo.

It was the figure of Christ, dressed in maroon robes, that was obviously the star of the show. Some men who had gathered for the event wore the same shade—however faded—for their apparel. Others were half naked and their bodies glistened with sweat. Some were more fortunate as they were able to cling to the statue…

The Black Nazarene of Quiapo is one of the figures of Christ that has earned a place in the hearts of Filipinos, many of whom are of the poorer class. This one and the other figures also of Christ that have attracted numerous devotees throughout the decades, that have steadily asserted through the practices of popular piety that he is deeply embedded into the culture of the Filipino people.

“Gods walk on brown legs” is how the renowned Filipino poet Rafael Zulueta da Costa ends his poem “Like the Molave.” I would like to make an adaptation of this: God walks on brown legs. In the quest for an inculturated Christ, the Filipino himself looks for someone who is like him--not only in color (although he can easily relate to a Christ who shares with him even the color of his skin), but more than that. The Filipino looks for a person who is like him: lowly, suffering, an underdog, burdened with a cross. To earn exaltation, he had to look for the Hand that would lift him up. And in the figures of Christ that they hold dear, the Filipinos “found Him found Him found Him.” And in the figures of Christ that they hold dear like the Black Nazarene, the Filipinos have found God to be this hand. Through popular piety, men and women have sought for God and found Him.

I remember one afternoon when in a seminar-workshop on popular religiosity I sat a-pondering in the multi-media hall of the Maryhill School of Theology, when I thought of the millions of Filipinos who wanted to touch Christ. Touch him—they did, literally, or others must have thought they did, but did not in actuality. I sat in a trance, for I was convinced that they did touch him after all. Their hands on the image, their knees on the floor—aye, they touched him. Theirs was the experience that theological speculation might never give them. I blurted out to myself: “Personally, I’d rather have a people steeped in religiosity, in a seemingly exaggerated expression, than a godless people.”

Now I am convinced: this piety that they have is a treasure for it is a given, a raw material. With this in one’s hands, that person can do much. It is a long, tedious process, but yes, it is a power possible. And bring it before God’s hands—it is power invincible.

January 13, 2008 Distribution of Cards

2008-01-08T18:35:00.000-08:00

January 9, 2008
Dear Parents,
Peace and joy, and a grace-filled new year!
Before your sons went for their Christmas break, the period of evaluation for the third quarter was held. Hence, another quarter of scholastic activity has been evaluated. For this we would like to invite you for the DISTRIBUTION OF REPORT CARDS on January 13, 2008 which is this coming Sunday.
The programme for the card-giving will be much simpler this time, since we have postponed the scheduled Parents’ Day. The detailed schedule is as follows:
AM
8:30 Holy Mass in the Gymnasium (Presider: Fr. Rolo Alcasid, SDB, Rector)
9:30 Dispersal into sections for the distribution of Report Cards. C/o Ms. Wilma Mendoza (Asst. Principal for Academic Affairs), Ms. Christine Solares (Asst. Principal for Student Affairs) and Class Advisers.
10:30 Home Sweet Home
We would like to remind the parents that the distribution of report cards would not go beyond 11:30 in the morning. Thank you and God bless.
Sincerely yours,

Fr. Joel N. Camaya, SDB
High School Principal

A.D.

2008-01-08T11:22:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! I am very sure you have welcomed the New Year in your very own way, carrying on with the annual family traditions that you have been practicing—most probably with the midnight mass (which others have put earlier so as not to endanger themselves with the firecrackers that climax at the coming of the New Year at 12:00 midnight) and then the Media Noche, the beautiful midnight meal celebrated after making noise or listening to noise, the herald of the coming of 2008.

I was sorry to have welcomed this year from my bed as I was down with fever, cough and colds. I did wake up at the strike of midnight and rose to greet my parents and my brother who were in the house with me. I went back to bed shortly after and rose up the next day to celebrate mass with my family.

The days before and even after the First of January, the television shows were featuring what was special for this coming year. Psychics came to their annual appearance and gave predictions. Much was about 2008 being the “Year of the Rat”. Among many other things, they were saying who was lucky and who was not. One show even featured rodents—big and small—taken from a zoo, with a zoologist giving a scholarly exposition of what rats are all about: from the different species to their habitat to their nutrition and smell.

I was born on the year of the rat and so I was interested a bit. Year in and year out they present all these animals that take turns in being the highlight, as is presented in the Chinese calendar.

My apprehension in all this is that Christians might be too taken up by all this talk about the Year of the Rat (or Pig, Dog, Rooster, etc.) that they forget that every year is actually a celebration of the Year of the Lord—for this is what A.D. means: Anno Domini ("in the year of the Lord"). We give little importance to that short phrase that is even present in our diplomas. The coming of Christ has split history into two: what came before him and what came together with his coming. As we are still enjoying the novelty of writing 2008, let us not forget to dedicate our year to Christ himself. After all, it is the Year of the Lord.

POTUIT, DECUIT, ERGO FECIT!

2007-12-07T01:02:00.000-08:00

Since the time of Don Bosco, there has been a tradition in our Salesian houses to stage an accademia (usually a cultural presentation meant to instruct the boys on the upcoming feast). It was held on the eve of the feast. And it was so in my experience of Salesian life, even when I was a young aspirant in high school. When I was a brother in practical training, I staged accademias at the eve of almost every solemnity.

Tonight, on the eve of the Solemnity Our Lady’s Immaculate Conception, I am quite emotional. I have just come from a play staged by our Seminarians, a play entitled Ineffabilis Deus. As I watched, memories of my years as a brother came back.

And why would it not be so when this was one which I wrote and directed for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception on December of 1995? It was a play done by the batch of many of those who were ordained in 2005; they did it when they were postulants.

As I said, the play was entitled Ineffabilis Deus (the title of the papal document on the dogma of the Immaculate Conception). The whole musical was actually a discussion of the doctrine. It focused on the ideas that surrounded the debate between theologians throughout the ages on the Immaculate Conception. It culminated in presenting the view of the ideas of the Franciscan philosopher and theologian John Duns Scotus. The play echoed the words: Potuit, decuit; ergo fecit! (“He could; it was fitting; therefore, He did it!”) Yes, God could make Mary immaculately conceived; it was fitting that the one who would be Mother of God be immaculately conceived; and therefore He did it!

We can have a lot of reflections on this celebration but I would just like to focus on the point that the privilege granted by God to Mary was a gratuitous gift. But Mary did not just sit on this privilege. Before God’s eyes she sought to be worthy of this gift. We may not be blessed to have that privilege of being immaculately conceived, but we are graced with so many blessings from God. We have a lot to thank him for. May this thought lead us to be more conscientious in what God has called us to be. He has given us so much and so we must not be complacent; otherwise, we will be wasting a lot of the good that the Lord has bestowed on each of us. The beauty in the privilege given to Mary was that it had fruits as lived in a life that experienced Jesus and then “treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Lk 2:19)

Saint Nicholas

2007-12-05T13:47:00.000-08:00

When I was with the Comunità Don Bosco in our Salesian University in Rome, we had a confrere from Colombia, a very good friend of mine. His birthday fell on this day, December 6. On that particular day, as was customary for the community, those celebrating their birthday, anniversary or name day (onomastico) give a little treat to the confreres at lunch or dinner--like beer, ice cream, pastries, spumante, or liqueur. This particular confrere gave away chocolates in the form of Santa Claus as he explained that in his country, December 6, the feast of St. Nicholas, is a popular feast and people on this day anticipate Christmas by giving gifts to one another.

Santa Claus is no stranger to us for he looms as a very visible figure every Yuletide season. When I was a little child, he was always part of the Christmas celebration for I was at that time convinced that the gifts that I found under the Christmas tree or beside my pillow on Christmas Day were really from him.

Presently, however, I feel uncomfortable with the stature that the consumeristic world has given him, for his presence seems to rival the real reason for celebrating Christmas. More than the sincere giving of gifts, Santa Claus has become the icon of how commercial Christmas has become. It is a case of missing the point: that the first Christmas was a paragon of simplicity, as was the saint who came to be known as Santa Claus.

It would be of help for us to know more about the reason how Santa Claus came into the picture at Christmas time. Santa Claus is known as giving gifts to boys and girls during Christmas making him the friend of little children in this season. Two things then: giving, and children.

Saint Nicholas is known as generous to the poor and special protector of the innocent and wronged. His holiness of his life thus revolved on giving, and children. And the Christmas season is indeed about giving, and children: God gave his only Son to be one among us; and this Son, the Word Made Flesh, came as a child. This is the whole point of Christmas.

This early, as we have just come to the onset of Advent, I have already talked about Christmas. Well, with the memorial of this saint of today, we anticipate things even liturgically. It is a preparation for the celebration of the mystery of Christ’s coming. These days, in my present assignment as high school principal, we are immersed in days of preparation: for the coming examinations, for contests, for make-up lessons. But we also need to prepare spiritually: for the coming feast of our Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Conception, and of course, Christmas. This is what matters. I salute teachers and those who work with young people: for their vocation is connected to the ideals of St. Nicholas’ life, the ideals of Christmas: giving, and children.

Picture: St. Nicholas was said to have raised to life three young boys who had been murdered and pickled in a barrel of brine to hide the crime. These stories led to his patronage of children in general.

Big News

2007-11-18T20:58:00.000-08:00

On January 30, 1996, we staged a play here in Don Bosco Canlubang. I was a young brother at that time and I wrote and directed that short musical entitled Bury Me Deep, based on the book by Peter Lappin, on the life of the young Argentinian native, Zeffirin (or Ceferino, Zephyrinus, Zephyrin, whatever language base the translation uses) Namuncurá. I opened the play with the end—the funeral scene where the company, led by Bro. Gerry Martin (now Fr. Gerry) who played the role of Bishop Giovanni Cagliero. It was a moving scene, accompanied as it was by Schubert’s Ave Maria. The end of the play continues the funeral scene with a Salesian saying: “Many years after his death, he indeed was buried deep—almost into oblivion. It is indeed sad to know all about it. Yet the name of Zeffirin will not languish forever buried…” And the reason given was that he was well way into the process of being raised to the altars.

At that time I had a strong premonition that soon this young Bosconian would be beatified. How else would I explain that strong compulsion to put his life into a simple musical on the eve of the feast of Don Bosco? “Soon” turned out to be a little bit less than twelve years. It was not really a long time for me, for the 1996 production is, up to now, still vivid in my mind.

Last week, the Salesian world was in festive mood because last November 11, Zeffirin was beatified. But not only that. The whole Church is sharing in this joy for another young person has been raised to the altars. It is missionary work at its best! Even the Philippine Daily Inquirer ran the story (from Agence France Presse) about the beatification. In other words, it is big news.

Aye, it is big news, a big deal whenever we succeed in bringing out the best in our young people. I have told my faculty members that as teachers they are at the vanguard, at the forefront of this undertaking. I urged them—and you likewise—to help make more Zeffirins among the young whom we encounter everyday.

Dedication

2007-11-08T17:34:00.000-08:00

I was a college seminarian when I first began to be aware of the feast the we celebrate every ninth of November, that of Saint John Lateran. Here in the Philippines, we know it by the more popular name, San Juan de Letran, for it is the name of a college run by the Dominicans. In his homily for the day, one of our priests in the seminary that time told us that San Juan de Letran, or St. John Lateran is not a person, but a church (a basilica). In fact, the title of the celebration is the Dedication of the Basilica of St. John Lateran. It is the cathedral church of Rome, the official ecclesiastical seat of the Bishop of Rome who is the Pope. It is a temple so rich in history.

The celebration of November 9 takes the rank of a feast, meaning the Gloria is sung at mass and there are special readings. The Liturgy of the Hours that we pray as a religious community are taken from the a special section of the prayer book called “Common of the Dedication of a Church.”

The word “dedication” in this celebration comes in very strong for me because it speaks a mouthful. Dedication comes from the Latin word “dedo” (dedere, dedidi, deditus), a word that is much more potent that the word “do” (dare, dedi, datus) which means “to give”. The root of dedication means not merely “to give”—it means “to give up” or “to surrender”. It could also mean “to give up oneself to”.

The celebration thus means the surrender of that special place, that temple. We give up something in order to offer the possibility of it being used for a nobler cause, for a greater purpose. Taking this cue, we are reminded that dedication has always been part of our lives. We dedicate works, writings, songs, even a game or any undertaking in order to manifest affection, gratitude or devotion.

Here in the place where I work, Don Bosco Canlubang, I am happy to see dedicated people, especially teachers: persons who have not only given, but have given themselves up—surrendered—for a mission: all because they love, they care. Such nobility! Such inspiration for me! It is a feast indeed.

(photo--taken August 30, 2007-- shows Fr. Joel in front of the Basilica of St. John Lateran)

Death as a Dawning

2007-11-02T00:35:00.000-07:00

This year, I went home for All Saints’ Day. How fast one whole year has gone by! I still remember that of last year: one reason I went home for All Saints’ Day was to drive for my parents in our visit to the tombs of our beloved departed. Through the years, we have been visiting mainly two cemeteries—San Miguel, Tarlac City and Bamban, Tarlac. My grandparents are buried in these cemeteries—paternal grandparents at the former (although now their remains have been transferred to San Sebastian, also in Tarlac City) and maternal grandparents at the latter. Since I became a priest, it was an added feature for me to bring holy water and bless not only their tombs but also those of the other relatives.

It was not part of our usual itinerary, but at last year’s All Saints’ Day we thought of passing by Murcia, Concepcion (where my father was born and grew up) to bring some of the things that my sister had sent to our relatives there. We arrived at past nine in the morning and saw my cousins and their father, Uncle Jesus, the husband of my aunt (my father’s elder sister) in tears. Earlier they had rushed my aunt, Pastora (Auntie Paring), to the hospital and at 8:00am, she was pronounced dead on arrival due to cardiac arrest. She was 85. My father was in tears. Though she was weak, we have not expected her to depart this soon.

Uncle Jesus sobbingly was saying in Kapampangan: “Penenayan ne mu rugu ing daun.” (“She seemed to have just waited for All Saints’ Day.”) And he was relating how Auntie Paring was so strong the evening before, that she was even talking so clearly. (Incidentally, some months later, Uncle Jesus would also go back to the Father and join Auntie Paring.)

Later that day, we went to Bamban (before going back to Murcia to see my aunt’s body already in the coffin) and our maternal relatives were also recounting the same thing when years ago, the wife of my uncle died—in a moment of physical strength she asked that she be brought out to see the house.

A common denominator in both events was a moment of strength before the coming of death. It makes me reflect on the fact that we really will decide to embrace death when it would come before us. And I do believe that what gives the dying that strength before they breathe their last is not only the satisfaction of having lived their life the best they could, but also the imminent entrance into another life, the other life. In the many funeral masses I have presided I always tell the people something I read from a magazine: “Death is not extinguishing the flame but putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.” Aye, death is a dawning and this dawning gives us reason to pray, to celebrate both All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day.

PAP Midyear Conference Invocation (On Richard Rorty)

2007-10-26T15:59:00.000-07:00

Today, October 27, 2007, the Philosophical Association of the Philippines (of which I am member of the board of directors) is holding its midyear conference at Don Bosco Technical Institute, Makati City, with the theme "The Philosophical Thought of Richard Rorty". I was tasked to lead the assembly into prayer at the beginning of the meeting. Here is the text of the invocation.

Heavenly Father,

In the wonderful account of creation, you made the human being in your own image, after your likeness—and at that moment, poetry was born, the beauty of the utterance called language came into sight, together with the manifestation of man’s creativity: music, crafts, science and the creative flow of ideas both oral and written. You have indeed shared with us this beautiful power.

This endowment we see in your gift to humanity—in the person of Richard Rorty, a philosopher who has greatly contributed to the endeavor of searching for truth, of asking the questions that really matter, and of being one who loved leading people—in his words in the classroom, to the nation, to the whole world.

May we who gather here learn from this man who moved others through the ideas that flowed from the mind you have endowed him. May we as philosophers, professors and students be interested in the truth and continually learn and proclaim to others the beauty of this truth.

And as was sung in the song “Est-il de vérité plus douce que l'espérance?” Is there a truth sweeter than hope? This search for truth we do in hope and that is why we call upon you today to touch our minds and hearts through this man.

We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Stage Fright

2007-10-25T00:02:00.000-07:00

The whole afternoon of yesterday I was with our aspirants (seminarian from first year to third year). Having been invited last week, I was conducting a workshop which was part of their semestral break seminar on public speaking. The topic that was assigned to me was “Conquering Stage Fright.” I told them right off: I was not very comfortable in accepting the topic assigned to me since I myself have not conquered stage fright. And indeed, it was a statement made sincerely and not just to be modest.

Yes, stage fright is still very much around in my life and I feel that it will never leave me. It is manifest even in the things that I regularly do—saying mass, preaching, giving the talks in our morning assemblies, conducting meetings, giving seminars (exactly like the one that I gave yesterday). The bottom line of all this is what stage fright is all about: fear. Fear will ever be present even in the most familiar acts that we do.

But yes, we can conquer stage fright. One thing I told my young audience yesterday was that fear can actually help us in the things that we do. Fear makes us shun complacency and pushes us to do better. I gave a familiar quote: “What will push one to drive the car better is to have realized that his license has expired.” Besides, although fear makes our bodies tremble, they add sparkle to our eyes and put more color to our cheeks. In other words, it makes us look better. This will make us forget about our stage fright!

Then I gave the young men practical tips in order to handle stage fright: think that you are good, pretend that you are just chatting with close friends, remember happy moments, be prepared, anticipate hard questions, put a picture of your loved ones with your notes, and so on.

Finally I gave them that time tested advice: practice, practice, practice! It is in being familiar to what we do that we feel so much at home with it. In our first attempts at doing something, in this case public speaking, we may stumble and fall and this surely will make us fear in our next attempt. But as what Friedrich Nietzsche said, “What won’t kill you will make you stronger.” Speaking in public, reading in the liturgy, conducting meetings, teaching in front of a class—even though these actions may give us the jitters, we will still come out unscathed and the experience will make us even better persons. As our young people of today would say: stage fright rocks!

The Lucan Viewpoint

2007-10-18T16:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we celebrated the feast of St. Luke, evangelist. As I was meditating on what this person has contributed to Sacred Scripture, I got my copy of the Bible (New Jerusalem Bible version) that I have been using for the past nine years, the one that I used during my theology years. Many of the pages have passages that are highlighted with fluorescent ink; the margins likewise have given way to very small notes written in either pencil or ball point pen ink. And then I turned to the pages of Luke—both the text and the introductory part.

Luke was the author not only of the third gospel but also of the Acts of the Apostles, immediately following the four gospels. It is interesting to note that the gospels, and many other books of the Bible for that matter, have different sources and receive their final form only after the authors have chosen what to include in their account. This is the explanation for the synoptic gospels (Mark, Matthew and Luke)—they are very similar in outline since they have common sources.

Therefore, it is important to know what makes Luke distinct. From what I have studied, I can enumerate off-hand some of the unique elements in his work: the infancy narrative, the portrait of Jesus as gentle, loving and forgiving, predilection for the poor and severity to the proud, the importance given to prayer, and the numerous passages on Mary.

Knowing this makes us think of how great a treasure this gospel is. These distinct elements are values that we uphold. More than that, what gives life to what the apostles and evangelists (and every follower of Christ) wrote and preached is the experience they had with Christ. This is a truth that resounds to this day—in the tasks that God has entrusted to us.

Canon

2007-10-10T16:49:00.000-07:00

It may very well be that one of the most popular classical musical pieces is Canon in D Major by the Baroque composer Johann Pachelbel. I remember being a part of the Seminary band (I played the trumpet) when we played this sometime in 1995.

Purists may not actually be happy about it but this musical gem has already been rendered in its electronic form—a step that goes even further, beyond its rendition in the pop, jazz or rock genres.

So popular it is that its ubiquity seems unmatched: we hear it almost everywhere. More often than not, it accompanies the bridal entourage at wedding marches. Once I was looking for CD’s in a shop and I saw one on Pachelbel’s work. I picked it up and read further. It was Pachelbel’s Canon with ocean sounds—an entire CD solely on this short musical work!

One thing interesting about this subject on Pachelbel and his masterpiece is that this is that even with Canon alone, this particular composer has become famous. He is even jokingly called a one-hit wonder. Yet, even so, Pachelbel has weathered the passing of the centuries and his music remains ever new, freely adapting itself to the ever changing tastes of generations of listeners. It is ever relevant because its simplicity allows everyone—even those who are not musically oriented—to carry the tune. The different parts, though very different from one another, all blend into a single moving effect, a pre-established harmony in Leibnizian parlance.

Likewise, the simplicity of our life, together with how we blend with our family, neighbors, colleagues, or charges will make us relevant throughout the years in this world that is ever in flux. Like Pachelbel’s Canon, we will remain long after we’ve gone.

The Rosary

2007-10-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

One of my most treasured possessions is the rosary given by Pope John Paul II, in an audience with him exactly four years ago, on October 4, 2003. It was on the occasion of the ad limina visit of Bishop Precioso Cantillas, SDB, Bishop of Maasin (Southern Leyte).

I have intended to refer to that unforgettable event solely for the fact that I received a rosary, but I saw the date of that meeting—and I just realized as I was writing this—that today is the anniversary: God’s grace indeed!

I still remember those kind eyes that looked into mine as Bishop Cantillas introduced me to this great man. It was the second time I was shaking the hand of this great man—the first one was on February of the previous year. Yet it brought the same effect for I found myself tongue-tied in ecstasy. He handed me the rosary that I now jealously treasure. This Pope was deeply Marian: Totus tuus! And the letter M completed his coat of arms that was bathed in blue. And it was he who dared to add another set of mysteries, the luminous mysteries, to the rosary!

Last Monday, in our department, we launched the Marian month, the month of the Holy Rosary. We are set to pray this beautiful prayer the whole of October. We have reminded our Bosconians the beautiful practice of bringing the rosary in the pocket. Let us likewise do the same.

One criticism against praying the rosary is that it is repetitious. The rosary becomes meaningful if we go beyond praying it mechanically; it becomes fruitful if we carefully meditate upon the mysteries in the life of Christ; it becomes a point of contact with the people for whom we pray. The rosary gives us the fervor in looking at life!

(photo taken on Oct. 4, 2003 at the Vatican; note my left hand holding the rosary given by the Pope)

La festa degli arcangeli

2007-09-28T21:41:00.000-07:00

Nei nostri tempi abonda la letteratura sugli angeli—nei libri che si trovano nelle librerie dove ci sono grosse sezioni su questa materia, e anche sull’internet. Purtroppo tanta di questa materia che gira non viene dall’insegnamento della fede cristiana ma dal New Age. Comunque, tutto il mondo tocca questa realtà degli angeli.

Qual’è il significato della nostra festa oggi? Oggi non guardiamo qualche santo che ha superato sua debolezza per essere un vero discepolo di Cristo. Vediamo tre angeli—arcangeli—che non hanno avuto né debolezza né peccato: molto diversi da noi; molto lontano dalla nostra capacità, possiamo dire.

Allora, come ci troviamo con questa celebrazione? Ci insegna alcune cose. Prima, che esistono questi angeli come messageri di Dio, come i suoi strumenti portando la sua parola—sappiamo che la parola angelos vuol dire “messaggero”. Seconda, che questi tre arcangeli, specificamente, fanno una grande parte della storia di salvezza—Michele, come prottetore del popolo eletto, Gabriele che ha portato l’annuncio di Dio, Raffaele che ha portato guarigione al padre di Tobia.

Anche i nomi sono pieni di senso: Michele—“colui come Dio”, Gabriele—“forza di Dio”, Raffaele “Dio ha curato”. Sempre attaccati al nome di Dio. Le loro missioni dependono in Dio; senza di lui non possono stare solo. È impossibile per noi di essere angeli, ma siamo sempre con Dio e dunque, è sempre possibile dare tutti i nostri affari alla disposizione della sua missione. Quindi, nel nostro lavoro, nella nostra presenza si vedrà Dio che salva, che cura, che parla. Perché come gli arcangeli siamo chiamati di essere messaggeri di Dio.

--a homily of mine which I delivered at Comunità Don Bosco, the Salesian community in Rome where I belonged (2002-2004). I made it for the feast of the Archangels, September 29, 2003 when I presided over our Eucharistic celebration. I have not yet made a traslation of this; i'll supply one soon.

The Courage to Die a Thousand Deaths

2007-09-27T12:28:00.000-07:00

“To die for the faith is a call to some; to live the faith is a call for all.”

I have known these words by heart since I was in Grade 6. They have passed on from short-term memory to long-term. Maybe it was because I reviewed well for the exams of Religion Class that time. (It was Fr. Rey Ranjo who taught us that subject.) The words were by Pope John Paul II who, four years before in his visit to the Philippines, had beatified Lorenzo Ruiz.

I was quite impressed by the story of our first Filipino to be raised to the altars. At my young age, I told myself that if ever there would be a film on this man, I would want to play his character. After all, like Lorenzo I am a chinito, am I not?

Yet more than this, it was how St. Lorenzo Ruiz suffered that continues to edify me until now. His words “If I had a thousand lives, I would give all of them up for the Lord” constantly make a deep impression on me.

Suffering for the faith may not be a common experience in our country, but living the faith and doing so with courage does make a lot of sense for all of us. Life may not be easy in the daily tasks that we do but it is our way of answering the call to live the faith.

LIMITS

2007-09-26T03:53:00.000-07:00

And I thought I was Superman… Last week was a deluge. (When was it not?) I always tell people that the work in my office never stops, that it is okay to interrupt me because I would never find myself idle whenever I am inside. And so, welcome, come in!

My whereabouts are predictable: inside the office—writing, preparing my lessons, reading a book or an article, signing documents, arranging files (in perpetual chaos!), working with the computer, checking test papers, essays or creative literary works, meeting students, teachers, parents and confreres; outside the office—in the playground chatting with our young people, or making some three point attempts, stuffing goals in table football; in the faculty room—taking coffee and chatting with our teachers; in the classroom—teaching our young Salesians, seminarians or high school students; in the Salesian residence—doing my laundry; or outside—saying mass, attending meetings or giving talks. What I do isn’t much really… or is it? I don’t really care, for I enjoy every moment.

Then came the trip to Cebu for the meeting of the principals and deans of the Don Bosco schools in the Philippines. Sunday came and had two masses, one in the morning (at Saint Joseph the Worker Parish, Canlubang) and the other in the afternoon at Enchanted Kingdom. Sundays are always busy days for me, days of work as a priest, but as always, I enjoy every moment of it.

But activism always has a price to pay, for after my late afternoon mass, I suddenly felt feverish and drained of energy. Fatigue. I did not cough, but I felt there was something to cough out. The night’s sleep (if ever there was one) was broken by chills. There was infection. Had to see the doctor, had to stop and rest. Now under prescription drugs.

And now I have to take it easy for a while, to relax and to realize that this God-given strength, the ability to do wonders has a limit and thank God, the price that I am paying is not the extremely high one. This is true for everyone. We have the duty to conserve our health for with it we can do even better. May our work be tempered by this thought.

Chillon

2007-09-10T23:33:00.000-07:00

Chillon! thy prison is a holy place,
And thy sad floor an altar - for ‘twas trod,
Until his very steps have left a trace
Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod,
By Bonivard! May none those marks efface!
For they appeal from tyranny to God.

- “Sonnet on Chillon”, Lord Byron

These days as I struggle over jet lag, scenes from my two weeks’ journey flash before me. Naturally, what remains are the unforgettables, the high moments, so to say, the human experiences that really matter.

Last August 24, as we took a break from our Societas Ethica conferences, we the participants were taken for a tour in some significant places around Leysin. Our first stop struck me: a visit to Château de Chillon, near Montreux, Switzerland. Situated at the coast of Lake Geneva, the castle was a home to the Counts of Savoy and was quite prominent in this particular Swiss region.

The tour around the castle impressed me—with our amiable and entertaining guide, a bearded French Swiss gentleman who speaks very good English. He led us through the dungeons, the courtyards, the upper rooms, the walls and the tower. The whole experience—as I touched the walls, and peered though windows—once again revived my love for things Medieval.

In our walk through the dungeons of the castle, I got fixated on the name of the English poet Byron etched deeply on one of the pillars. It was haunting and our guide told us that he was one of the visitors of the castle who was profoundly struck by the story of the place especially, that episode of Bonivard, the most celebrated among the prisoners of Chillon, that he wrote a sonnet, and then a later, a longer poem.

And likewise I am struck by his act: not so much the etching of his name but the writing of poetry to celebrate emotion—in this case, anguish for the suffering of a prisoner. It was an act that has immortalized the place, nay more, that has proclaimed to the world the sanctity of the walls wonderfully lit by the sunlight reflected by the dancing waters of the lake. It was this kind of light that shone on all the prisoners that have passed Chillon, on all the visitors including Byron, and including my own poor self.

In every place, through every moment: let us leave a memory, an etched name—not on stone but in lucid eulogy—in rimes, in artifacts, or even in the kind act of sharing: in human hearts.

(photo: a quiet moment in one of Chillon's rooms)

Dear Father...

2007-09-05T05:02:00.000-07:00

It would perchance be the highlight of my two week European sojourn...

I left the country for a conference on ethics in a beautiful place called Leysin in Switzerland. Yet I saw that certain moments were much, much greater than the big event of the Societas Ethica.

One such moment I found ca. 2:45 p.m. last Tuesday, August 28, in Valdocco. I never expected that returning to Don Bosco would happen so soon. “Return to Don Bosco” is definitely the battlecry of the Salesians of Don Bosco as they prepare to celebrate the 26th General Chapter next year. I did not know that returning to Don Bosco for me would be this literal: to stand once again before his remains and touch the glass that protected the holy relics.

I have been in that very spot before; this last one was actually my third time. During the first, sometime in December 2002 (the year of my ordination), there was a tingling sensation in my spine, a sense of exuberance at the thought that I was there before the body of our Father, Don Bosco. The second was in May 2003 (tenth anniversary of my profession), when the pilgrimage to Valdocco was a personally planned journey of my faith and vocation. This last one is the most moving—for it is going back to the place of someone whom I have called “Father” in the past 25 years of my life, a return to Don Bosco in the literal sense.

Before Don Bosco’s relics I closed my watery eyes and prayed. I thanked God—for so many things. And to Don Bosco I entrusted myself, my confreres, my collaborators (you dear teachers!) and all the young people under my care.

Wasn’t it 25 years ago when I first stepped into Don Bosco Tarlac as a student? It occurred to me as I stepped into Don Bosco’s Oratory last Tuesday that this was from God, a gift gratuitous, a real human experience that yields a message so important. With this visit that I never asked for yet freely given, he has affirmed me once again that I stay with Don Bosco, that I remain the son of this dear Father.

LEYSIN

2007-08-23T10:14:00.000-07:00

I have branded the trip “exhausting, terribly lengthy, hassle-filled”. And indeed, I had reason to do so, and still it would be an understatement.

Our ordeal began with the usual rituals that we do in airports, on the early morning of Sunday, August 19. Fr. Paul, Fr. Mike and myself were brought to the airport from Don Bosco Makati. The ticket and passport check, the baggages through the X-ray machines, the walk through the metal detector (they didn’t detect my braces!), the checking in, the airport fee, the immigration officer, the X-ray part 2, the body check, and the dull span of time before boarding the plane.

Our flight was supposed to be 10:45am: KLM Manila-Amsterdam-Zurich. The plane was there but there was no sign that we would board. Then it was announced: the flight was cancelled due to engine trouble (another long story told to us which I would skip). We were billeted at the Manila Hotel. We have lost a day.

The next day at the counter we were told that there would still be no flight. After some intercessions from people connected with the airlines as well as some persistence from us, we left Manila on August 21, 12:20am: Korean Airlines-Air France with a new itinerary: Manila-Seoul-Paris-Zurich—a long trip of about 24 hours including the stopovers.

We reached Zurich at 7:00pm of August 21. It was the longest trip I’ve had so far in my life. If we counted since Sunday (with the limbo at Manila Hotel), it would come up to more than two and a half days. We stayed the night in Zurich with Fr. Johan Dumandan and a Filipino family as our gracious hosts. Exhaustion set in as we began to lose the adrenalin that powered us the preceding days.

The long trip to Leysin resumed yesterday morning with our train trip from Zurich. It extended to more than three hours: Zurich-Lausanne-Aigle-Leysin. And what a trip the last leg was. It was an ascent that was rewarding: very pleasant weather in a scenic village among the Alps: the destination a real consoling blessing. Thus is life: through adversity to glory.

The Final and Ultimate Critic

2007-08-18T06:04:00.000-07:00

The prelude was an unexpected private meeting in the afternoon of August 4. I was browsing through the shelves of Solidaridad, the bookstore at Padre Faura, as has always been my wont whenever I passed by that area in Ermita. I looked at the books written by F. Sionil Jose and saw his latest—the novel Vibora! among those displayed. There were new translations to his novels, particularly one that caught my eye—the Italian version of Viajero. I bought several titles: Vibora!, Olvidon, Ermita, Sin, Three Filipino Women and Gagamba. I reminded myself that I was teaching fiction in my creative writing class and thus needed to get familiar once again with the genre by reading. As I paid for the books, just out of curiosity, I asked the cashier whether it was possible to have my books signed by Mr. Jose himself who owned the book shop. I was delighted when I heard the affirmative. In a few minutes, I was asked to enter his study and after a short while I was face to face with the literary giant, our very own best bet for the Nobel in Literature; the 1980 Ramon Magsaysay Awardee for Literature; our 2001 National Artist and 2004 Pablo Neruda Centennial Awardee bestowed by the government of Chile; the Filipino novelist translated into 28 languages…

Our meeting lasted for about an hour. I had an interesting chat with him on his works that I read. What impresses me right now about that particular conversation besides the great person himself was the tone of familiarity that pervaded in that quiet interlocution.

And I realized the reason for this familiarity: it was because I have known the author through his writings; I read them and have savored the words and the experiences that they represented. In the end I asked for the possibility of him giving a short lecture to my class in creative writing and he gladly acceded to my request.

And so the next week I brought the whole class to meet the man. It was an important day for these aspiring writers. They saw the literary giant and heard him speak about himself, about his writings and about aspiring to be a writer—different themes each of which deserves a whole essay or reflection.

He mentioned that there are certain professions which are more properly called vocations: the priesthood, teaching, the medical profession, and, he added with great emphasis, writing. He affirmed with solemnity: writing is a vocation because it is meant to serve. He says that a writer must be passionate. Writers, he said, are probably the most egoistic of people since what they write is about things as viewed by themselves. However, he said, the celebration of the self must lead to a celebration that is much, much greater than the writer, something bigger, more meaningful than the self. It is this that will make the writing endure, that will make it stand the test of time. In this line, F. Sionil Jose adds that the final and ultimate critic is time. The greatness of a work will be seen if it withstands this test.

This is true for any other work, great or small. In the last analysis, little failures would not count so much because of the good that we have done consistently.

Empathy

2007-08-10T06:53:00.000-07:00

Each year, sandwiched between the feast of two great saints (St. Dominic on August 8 and St. Lawrence on August 10), we celebrate that of a great woman: St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross—more popularly known in philosophical circles as Edith Stein.

Her life had many turning points as it had many facets. Edith Stein was a philosopher, a convert from Judaism, a Carmelite nun, a martyr, and a saint. She was a disciple of the great phenomenologist, Edmund Husserl. So awestruck was I by all this that once I thought of taking her as the philosopher of my choice for my licentiate thesis. Though this thought did not materialize, as I instead wrote on Ernst Bloch. However, my admiration for this philosopher-martyr has never faded. I continue to dream about her deep insights.

Her doctoral dissertation was entitled On the Problem of Empathy. It is a philosophical work and therefore uses categories that are beyond the great majority who have not pursued the vocation to be a philosopher. However, I find it interesting that this was the topic of her choice. Sympathy for a person means feeling with that person. Empathy is much deeper than that: it is feeling in, that is, really experiencing the joy or the sorrow of the other person.

Perhaps it is this thought of empathy that paved the way for the major turning points in her life. Experiencing the rewarding life of a fulfilled philosopher who sought for truth was not enough for her: she sought the Truth who was God himself and thus went deeper—into contemplation—as she entered the walls of Carmel. It was empathy that made her endure the dread of entering the gates of Auschwitz and facing death. In what she preached she was tested and passed with flying colors.

Dear friends, empathy is not an easy thing. To sympathize is hard enough (though it is non-committal); to empathize is even more tedious as it will demands a lot from us. Yet empathy is one more way of going the extra mile, of being convinced that in the sense of living comes with doing things wholeheartedly.

Thought

2007-08-06T08:40:00.000-07:00

“L’homme n’est qu’un roseau, le plus faible de la nature, mais c’est un roseau pensant.” (“Man is but a reed, the weakest in nature, but he is a thinking reed.”) - Blaise Pascal, Pensées.

The human being is great because of thought. This sums up Blaise Pascal’s treatise on the human being. It was proper of the times he was in—the age of reason which began with the “Cogito, ergo sum” of Descartes.

Some days ago, I showed to my philosophy students the film Inherit the Wind, starring Spencer Tracy, Fredric March, and Gene Kelly. The movie features the famous case of a school teacher who was charged for violating a law against teaching evolution. While the issues that it touched are quite diverse, with themes on Biblical fundamentalism versus evolutionism or religion versus science, I was struck by the fact that it is the thinking human being who was actually on trial. The following lines are worth remembering:

“Then why did God plague us with the capacity to think? Mr. Brady, why do you deny the one thing that sets above the other animals? What other merit have we? The elephant is larger, the horse stronger and swifter, the butterfly more beautiful, the mosquito more prolific, even the sponge is more durable.”

Without prejudice to the reality that it was God himself who has given us dignity, I would tend to hold that the capacity to think is among these gifts that are part of the “glory and honor” that God has crowned the human being. It is that which sets us apart from all creation.

It is my conviction that thinking is a sacred act. It is thus in making our students think that sanctifies education, when we let them share in this divine gift. It is that which bestows durability to the feeble reed. It is “teaching how to fish rather that giving the fish.”

The human mind is a well that never runs dry. Even in an environment of anti-intellectualism, the champions of thought will prevail: for God has plagued us with this capacity to think.

“I will show you the way to Heaven”

2007-08-04T16:09:00.000-07:00

“Tu m’as montré le chemin d’Ars; moi, je te montrerai le chemin du ciel.”
(St. John Vianney to a young shepherd who showed him the way to Ars)

Ars is a tiny village—one can see that even to these days. However, it is famous for the parish priest it once had: St. John Mary Vianney, patron of priests (especially parish priests), whose memorial we just celebrated (Aug. 4).

Ars is likewise special for me. I have been there twice—Dec. 26, 2002 and April 25, 2003. The impact of the visit to the place has been equally tremendous each of the times I was there. I always marveled at how the Saint lived his simple life with the rigors it entailed. It was a privilege to see his heart, and his remains (the body was still intact, minus the head which was replaced by a wax figure).

The first time I was there, I asked the sacristan (a certain Frére Michel) whether I could say Mass and he said yes, but he asked for my celebret (an identification which is a proof that I was a priest). Seeing the date of my ordination which was barely six months before, he told me that new priests are given the privilege to say Mass using the chalice of the Saint. And so I had that chance. And I celebrated Mass in the side altar of our Lady where St. John himself said his daily Mass.

The epigraph above is a quote from the Saint when a boy indicated to him where is the road that led to Ars when he went from Lyons to the village which was his new assignment. He told the boy: “You have shown me the way to Ars. I will show you the way to Heaven.” These words of the Curate of Ars recall one meaning that we put into the word education: leading others into a higher realm, as in drawing them from the darkness of ignorance to the light of truth and knowledge. As a Christian and Salesian educator, I can say that we not only teach our young the basics of our own field of knowledge but we also prepare them for life, nay more, even the life that comes after this. Little do we see it at times, but our contact with them is “showing them the way to Heaven.” Sometimes, we may not see the change that we effect in the young people and children who seem to be unmoved by the love we pour into our work, but dear friends, it will never be a waste: it will always be—even for us—a way to heaven.

(photo taken at Ars in Dec. 26, 2002 as I celebrated mass in St. John Vianney's favorite altar. Inset: a icon of St. John Marie Vianney)

Hearing without Listening

2007-07-30T06:46:00.000-07:00

Last July 26 I was reflecting on the Gospel passage for the day which was about Jesus' explanation of the Parable of the Sower (Mt 13:18-23). The pericope reminded me of the time when we, as college seminarians tried to catch other seminarians off-guard as to whether they listened to the gospel reading in the Mass that morning. We just rang off with “What is the Gospel for today?” Then those who did not know it (those who either forgot or did not listen at all) would meet the one asking with a sheepish look. That made them more aware and thus be more attentive the next time the Gospel was read.

The parable reminds me of a famous song by Simon and Garfunkel: “The Sound of Silence.” It has the lines: “And in the naked light I saw/ ten thousand people, maybe more/ people talking without speaking, people hearing without listening…”

Yes, indeed, it is possible for people to hear without listening. And sad to say, this is what often happens. At school we give announcements often—surely, everyone hears them but not everyone really listens. Hearing is involuntary; listening, voluntary.

But heed this: listening opens to us a lot of possibilities. I teach music to our 3rd and 4th year high school students. Last week, I asked them to listen once more to the Medieval Music that we have discussed in the past. I asked them to write anything that came into their mind (feelings, memories, imagination, entire stories) as they listened to the selection of music. I was impressed with many of the essays. The product of listening is a work that is profound.
This is one task that we should not give up on: that of moving others not only to hear but to really listen. May this not fall on deaf ears, nay more, on ears that do not listen.

The Teacher as Instrumental, as Inspiration

2007-07-25T00:19:00.000-07:00

Platinum, Ten Filipino Stories; The God Stealer and Other Stories; Po-on; Tree; My Brother, My Executioner; The Pretenders; Mass; Viajero; Ben Singkol—eight books by the same author, and counting! His productive output is far greater than this shortlist, for what I have enumerated are only those volumes of his that I have read.

Any student of literature would immediately recognize that these are the works of F. Sionil José, the foremost Filipino novelist in English, a personal favorite. Once I had the chance of attending a lecture of his on the subject “The Novel as Autobiography.” Ben Singkol had just come out of the press and after a short chat with him, I asked him to sign my copy.

At about this time last year, I found myself at Solidaridad, Sionil José’s bookshop at Padre Faura. For more than an hour I was browsing through the different titles. I bought two of his books, collections of essays—Heroes in the Attic, Termites in the Sala--Why We Are Poor and This I Believe: Gleanings from a life in literature. At lunchtime the day I bought the books I began reading This I Believe and managed to go through half of the book in that sitting. The dedication page reads: “To the memory of Soledad C. Oriel, Paz Latorena, and Juan Labrador.” Who were these persons? They were his teachers. Sionil José often mentions them as the ones to whom he is indebted, those who made him fall in love with literature. Soledad Oriel, in particular, was his Grade Five teacher who introduced him to authors like Rizal, Willa Cather and the great Miguel de Cervantes.

Sionil José is a literary giant not only locally but in the international scene as well (he is translated into 24 languages!). This skill for writing and this passion for literature was awakened in him by teachers who saw his gifts—teachers like those I encounter everyday. Long live the educator!

Steps and Leaps

2007-07-20T20:02:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it does help to look at things which we oftentimes take for granted. In my office I am keeping a copy of the Bosconian’s Daily Guide (more popularly known as the Student’s Diary). The importance of the Daily Guide cannot be questioned--it serves as the link between the school and the home; it includes a lot of features that are valuable especially to each student who bears a copy. I myself found it thus when I was a student. However, the copy that keep in the shelf of my office is meant simply to instruct others how to use it or to serve as a ready reference with regard to the student guidelines.

Two days ago I was idly browsing through the pages of the Diary. July 20 read: “1969. Humankind first landed on the Moon. Neil Alden Armstrong, Edwin E. Aldrin Jr., and Michael Collins were aboard the space shuttle Apollo 11 for this historic lunar mission. At exactly 10:56 p.m. EDT, Armstrong stepped onto the surface of the Moon.”
I was not yet born when that great event was seen on live television. History tells us that on becoming the first person to set foot on the moon, Neil Armstrong declared: “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Our lifetime has seen a lot of steps—and leaps—in terms of space exploration, inventions, and other scientific achievements. Our generation never imagined that we would get this far so quickly. This is true not only in science but in other fields as well. There is a revolution not only in the world of action and inventions, but also in the world of speculation. Precisely, what we see manifested in the outside is what is happening in the human person. It is a revolution of the mind. Philosophical movements have never been so many at a given point.

The field of education where I find myself right now is exactly moving in the same direction. There are a lot of innovations, not only in terms of being able to use modern means in delivering the same lessons, but also in the process itself--in the mechanics: from planning the lesson to the delivery itself. At this point, let me say as I encourage all those in the teaching profession: the efforts that you exert in this line may be small steps to your estimate, but they are giant leaps after all. Yes, sometimes it does help to look at things which we oftentimes take for granted.

Where You Belong

2007-07-19T08:47:00.000-07:00

It is interesting that the top two TV stations in the country try to win viewers to their side by making the latter feel that they indeed belong—via the words kapamilya and kapuso. Yet this strategy is not unique in them. All the other advertisements have this element of relationship in them. It is what is promoted in a myriad of ways via words of belonging: kaberks, katext, kainuman, kabayan, and so on.

We all desire to belong to a group. We belong to a family, to a school, to a class; we seek to be part of associations and organizations. As early as when I was in grade school, I had wanted to be part of as many groups as possible and so I joined the Knights of the Altar, the Boy Scouts, the Junior Journalists Club, the Junior Aspirants’ Club, the choir.

This is indeed one of the aims of the youth groups and sodalities whose formation we give utmost importance in our school. Membership in a group gives one a sense of belongingness, of sharing with others. In a group, one will not be lost in the crowd because he is seen more as an individual who is capable of sharing time and talent.

Don Bosco himself gave importance to this aspect of life. He encouraged sodalities—meant for the smooth running of the Oratory, but also the venue for camaraderie and formation.
In our school, we continue this wonderful Salesian tradition because we believe that in the group, young people become more aware of their responsibilities. In their own way they can make a difference—among themselves, in the school, and even in the Church and the society.

Finally, the youth group is a wonderful venue where the young person will be able to exercise leadership. In Don Bosco’s time, the leaders of the groups were later on invited to join him in his work. Aye, the youth groups are a great source of vocation. And this I would like to affirm because being part of a group and leading it was a happy memory that made me more open to God’s call for me to become a Salesian.

Lessons from the World Cup Final 2006

2007-07-14T01:21:00.000-07:00

It was around this time last year that saw the world football fanatics (me included) glued to the television screens, save those who saw the World Cup Finals in the stadium in Berlin. The spectators were treated to a feast of football as France and Italy played for the title. It was won by Italy via penalty shootout after a score of 1-1 after 90 minutes of the regular playing time and another 30 minutes of extension.

I have rooted for France, and so I lost in the “bets” I made with friends who cheered for Italy. Anyway, this championship match gave me several thoughts to ponder:

1. Leadership matters a lot. One of the highlights of the match was Zinedine Zidane getting a red card for the head butt he gave to Italy’s Marco Materazzi. His ejection was the turning point of the game: the French players lost their spirit; from that minute they crumbled and made the Italians force the deadlock to the end. His leadership and presence mattered a lot.

2. The last act will always be remembered. It is true, Zidane’s greatness will be forever etched in football history—his skills, his leadership, his sportsmanship. I can even say that he deserves the Golden Ball award that he got as the best player of this tournament. Yet, it could have been sweeter without that head butt.

3. In a winning team, everyone delivers. Italy is a clear case of this. They made twelve goals in all—from 10 different players! It was all so well distributed that no one really cared if there were superstars or not. They just had to win as a team. Part of the picture was the superb performance of their goalkeeper, Gianluigi Buffon who conceded only two goals and neither was scored on the run of play.

Dear friends, these lessons can be adopted in whatever vocation or profession we are in. In a good number of ways, we exercise leadership daily. Our inspiring presence means a lot--to our family, to our colleagues. Our deeds create a deep impression in the lives of the people we encounter and we have to preserve the beauty of this happy reality. Together with the people around us, we work to be a winning team.

The Age of Chivalry

2007-07-11T07:17:00.000-07:00

Throughout the years, ever since I acquired this insatiable passion for reading, I have accumulated books enough to build a modest library. This library I have enshrined in our humble home (first at Tarlac and now in Angeles). The classics dominate the collection, beginning with the first novels I read—Oliver Twist, Don Quixote. The Iliad, Odyssey and Aeneid are not to be missed. Later on, philosophy and theology books joined in to fill another section.

One book that I have opened more than once or twice was Bulfinch’s Mythology—and it was not only because of the classical Greek and Roman Mythology beautifully recounted by Thomas Bulfinch. Rather, it was more because of the second part of the trilogy: The Age of Chivalry.
This part recounts the tales of kings and knights, particularly, the legend of King Arthur. What drew me to these was the sense of the heroic that was very much present even in the non-fictional counterpart of these tales—the Middle Ages.

I love dwelling on this portion of history as it is truly rich in so many aspects. Literature in this stage teemed with so many productions, most of them, epics; philosophy had St. Thomas Aquinas at the fore; architecture yielded the castles whose majestic remnants continue to captivate tourists; the paintings were not pompous but were powerful. And its music: from the ubiquitous Gregorian chant to the wandering music of the minstrels. It was the bridge from the ancient to the gifted flair of the Renaissance.

It is this brand of music that I am presenting these days to my students in Music 3 & 4—Gregorian Chant, Old Roman, Arabic-Byzantine, works by Richard the Lionheart and others. It is the deep breath before we plunge into the more popular periods—Baroque, Classical and Romantic.

In our discussion, I asked my students what they can say about the quality of Medieval Music. They produced many adjectives that may be summed up into two: serene and deliberate. This is what draws me to the Age of Chivalry: it is not a shallow whim. May our lives be a reflection of this wonderful era where nobility and honor reign supreme.

The Color Yellow

2007-07-06T20:00:00.000-07:00

Twice, and twenty years apart, the color yellow has made an enduring dent on my memory—and for different reasons, events literally and conceptually far apart. 1983 saw Ninoy Aquino lying in blood, dead on the tarmac. But the days that followed were covered neither by red nor black. It was yellow that swept the scenery: in flags, shirts, headbands, confetti, not only in the funeral but beyond, onto the EDSA revolution.

However, that is altogether another story different from what I wish to develop now. Allow me to be less profound today (yet equally fervent) as I write about the color yellow 20 years later—in 2003. Today, I take on the shoes of a spectator as I join many others in watching a spectacle (via TV), in witnessing a display of heart and endurance in the world’s most prestigious cycling event: the Tour de France. In July of 2003, as I did my French course in Angers, I was taken up by this sporting event that I went to Nantes (the birthplace of the writer Jules Verne) just to see Lance Armstrong retain his yellow jersey and assure himself of winning against his closest rival Jan Ullrich who took a spill in that stage. It was in that stage that I personally encountered Ivan Basso, the winner of the white jersey (best young rider) the year before and subsequently 2nd runner-up in 2004 and 1st runner-up in 2005. However, it was the yellow jersey won by Armstrong that made me a fan of this sport as it is a showcase of what the human spirit can achieve even after a fall. One should note that Armstrong was a cancer survivor before winning the Tour seven consecutive times. I was also viewing recently on youtube one of his most memorable stage wins: the climb to Luz Ardiden (also in 2003; see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27SFeKk2LpY). Such tremendous determination! And in the end, the yellow jersey to savor. May our personal struggles see the color yellow in the end. (photo shows Fr. Joel with Ivan Basso at Nantes)

With You, Always

2007-06-28T17:07:00.000-07:00

The celebration of today brings me back to Parañaque five years ago when I was ordained priest. Many years before that, I had dreamed of the day I would become a priest and thence had always looked forward to it. That moment of my ordination was the first time I stopped looking forward to it. It was a thing of the present, always present, for priesthood is forever. In my thanksgiving Mass the next day, I told everyone present in the Chapel of Don Bosco Tarlac: “Once there was a boy who served Mass almost everyday in this Chapel. Then for a while he was gone. Now he is back, not anymore to serve the Mass. Now he will be the one to preside the Mass.”

One of the beautiful thoughts I had in the days surrounding my ordination was my chosen theme from Matthew 28:20 which I have always fondly abbreviated to “with you, always”. I was awestruck at the fact that in everything that was, in the path towards priesthood, God had always been there for me—ever present, ever assuring me of His great love.

Today I bask in that love.

5 Years

2007-06-28T03:46:00.000-07:00

5 years… What a way to entitle this piece! Tomorrow, June 29, I am five years a priest. Is it akin to the “5 Years Old” that completes the labels of popular liquor? I would like to mull over this idea: liquor that has been aged for 5 years. Distillers and wine makers let their product remain in its container for 5 years to ameliorate its flavor. Five years may not be good as ten or fifty, but it is better than an instance. With years come a certain mellowing, a spell of refinement to that which is coarse or raw.

Five years was the time from Don Bosco’s ordination to the time of the settlement of his Oratory in the Pinardi shed. It was five years of wandering, a time of uncertainty. Those five years of his life symbolized hope and growth: two things for which I have always prayed and worked for these, my first five years of priesthood.
They say that the first five years are crucial ones in the life of a priest—and I have found it just like that!

In this celebration of the anniversary of my Ordination for this year, like every anniversary, I look back to remember the fervor of that day when I received that great gift of ministerial priesthood from God. I run through the five years that came after it, up to this moment of reflection—all with the lights and shadows. I am a priest, and yet, I am still learning to be one. I thank you, dear friends and loved ones, for you are helping me in this process.

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita...

2007-06-20T08:49:00.000-07:00

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
ché la diritta via era smarrita.

Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura
esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte
che nel pensier rinova la paura!

[Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.]

Dante, La Divina Commedia, Canto I

Midway upon the journey of life… The Bible says that “our span is 70 years, or 80 for those who are strong.” (Ps 90) Dante, the greatest of Italian poets made this the basis of the opening lines of his masterpiece The Divine Comedy as he made his persona traverse the path from Inferno to Paradiso at age 35. It was Dante’s actual age when he wrote the poem. And it is my age as I celebrated my birthday three days ago. Biblically speaking then, I am midway in life’s journey, which according to a certain author “represents the height of a person’s powers, midway between birth and death, the point at which life begins a return to its origins.” (R. Royal. Dante Alighieri, Divine Comedy, Divine Spirituality. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1999.)

In the poem, Dante found himself lost in a dark forest, rendering him fearful. Is this the state I find myself in at the moment? That I ask. What will be in store for me? Will I be fearful? Today I find myself more hopeful than before. Today I see not a dark forest but a bright light. La lumière—or la luce in Dante’s own tongue.

My birthday falls on the 19th of June and I share the same birthday as Jose Rizal (as well as Paula Abdul, Lou Gehrig, Elbert Hubbard, King James I, Aung San Suu Kyi, Blaise Pascal, Salman Rushdie and Kathleen Turner). And Rizal died at 35… Which makes me think: at 35, Dante gave the world the best of his poetry; Rizal gave to his country his very own life. I, at 35—what have I done? What have I given? I would like to believe that there is still a lot of time to give more of myself, if possible to die for a cause greater than my own poor self.

This is where the light comes in. The questions that I ask are not made in a dark forest but in an ambient that is bright; not in a pathway that is lost but one that winds into salvation. The questions above I ask in the midst of a community that is very supportive—confreres surrounding me with encouragement and care, seminarians eager to listen, teachers and lay collaborators who believe in me and willing to walk the extra mile with me, students who are docile, grateful and endearing, friends who are ever present and ever ready to lend an ear. Aye, midway upon the journey of my life/ I found myself in comforting light.

25 Years with Don Bosco!

2007-06-13T08:40:00.000-07:00

Today as I was assisting the boys in the playground, a thought suddenly came to me. It was around this time 25 years ago that I entered Don Bosco (in Tarlac) as a student! Yes, this year, I am 25 years a Bosconian! I have always considered that day as a point of reference in my life.

I looked at the first year boys and I remembered my first days as a Bosconian, albeit I was younger then, at grade four. But I am sure many things are the same for our Benjamins. There is the novelty of being able to run around freely, even play basketball or football during breaks. There were the Salesians who moved around chatting with the students—“wasting time” with them. These were the very things that touched me in those days and those that greatly influenced me to remain in Don Bosco, the seed that led me later on to decide to become a Salesian.

In these musings I realize that this year is indeed a moment of grace; I have thought about this only today: that after 25 years I would be working closely with Bosconians. In 1982, I was welcomed by Salesians to a Don Bosco school; 25 years later I, a Salesian myself, am welcoming new students in a Don Bosco school. Indeed, what goes around comes around!

With this reflection I have invited those working in this apostolate--both Salesians and lay educators alike: make the first days of our Bosconians pleasantly memorable. That was my experience, my very own.

A QUO

2007-06-11T10:00:00.000-07:00

When given a chance to talk to young people, I often touch on the topic of change. I usually introduce two Latin phrases that usually accompany this subject matter: the terminus a quo and the terminus ad quem—the “end from which” and the “end towards which”, respectively translated into layman’s terms as what it was before the change and what it would become.I have always believed that education is a process and thus involves change in the mind of the one who undergoes this event. But much more than this is the greater scheme: the whole picture of the process of learning that involves not only the one who is educated but also everyone involved in the educative process: the educator, the other students, the parents, the environment.
There is therefore a great power in education that effects change practically in the whole community. I am reminded of a documentary television program that featured how coins are polished. The coins are made to look new once again by being mixed with other coins, all of which are continually rubbed with the others’ surface. In time, they all change each other—polished and smooth.We undergo that polishing in this process of change. We are at the beginning of this school year—the terminus a quo. Altogether we move from this end and open ourselves to change.

Welcome! SY 2007-2008

2007-06-09T07:46:00.000-07:00

(from my column, Co-Traveler at La lumière, THE OFFICIAL NEWSLETTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL FACULTY OF DON BOSCO COLLEGE, vol. II no. 1, May 31, 2007)

I wish to take this opportunity to welcome you all to a new scholastic year, 2007-2008. Our special greetings go to the new members of our department: our balikbayan THE teacher John August Mortera (Drafting and Electronics), our newcomers Oliver Alcasid (Drafting), Pamela Cabrera (Science), Loida Masa (English) and Clarence Decena (P.E.).Everything seems new since besides having a new rector, Fr. Rolo Alcasid, we have nine Salesians newly assigned to our community. (For a complete list, see Salesianity column, p. 2.) Three of ours will be directly involved in the running of our department: Fr. Joey Paras, Bro. Vincent Hoang and myself.

Almost a year has passed since the publication of the maiden issue of La lumière. I am inviting everyone towards the attainment of two things for this year: professionalism and unity. In achieving professionalism, we move towards excellence with regard to our dealing with one another and with our charges. We envision this year to be an intense one with regard to striving for accreditation. At the same time, we will work together to make our department united. Our work becomes easier when we are in good terms with one another.Today we celebrate the feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary to St. Elizabeth. Let us entrust this new school year to the Blessed Mother—each one of us: teachers, Salesians and the boys whom we believe are led to us by her.