Counting to 500

My 'guest appearance' at the Collegio Filippino in Rome.

Last Month, the Most Rev. Jose S. Palma, D.D., the metropolitan archbishop of Cebu, of which my very own Diocese of Maasin (Southern Leyte) is a suffragan, issued the pastoral letter Live Christ, Share Christ: Looking Forward to Our Five Hundredth, on behalf of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines, over which he presides. In it, he spells out the tasks of an era of New Evangelization in the archipelago poised to celebrate the fifth centenary of the arrival of Christianity. This point in history is marked by the first Easter Mass on March 16, 1521 in the island of “Mazaua,” which, as established by a great majority of historians, is the present-day Limasawa.

  

It is, by no means, sheer coincidence that I am an adopted son, by virtue of ecclesiastical affiliation, of Southern Leyte, which was the place of my paternal grandfather’s childhood just before World War II. (Later as an adult, he would return there as an agrarian reform official and then, still much later, to witness my investiture as a seminarian of the diocese on August 22, 2010.)

Formal reception by Bishop Precioso D. Cantillas, S.D.B.

Donning the cassock for the first time, assisted by deacons (then).

Standing next to "Tatay," my grandfather.

While I still do not yet speak either the Cebuano or the Boholano dialect, the Visayan language variants dominant in Central Philippines, it is an honor for me to have to trace my roots back to the very spot where the seeds of the Christian faith were planted half a millennium ago. From there, I hope to be a docile instrument, “fostering and fulfilling the ‘missio ad gentes’,” wherever the Spirit bids me go.

   

The Monsignor and I: Maasinhons advancing the Jubilee!  

 

To new beginnings!

As this school year rolls out, I am getting a new roommate. Well, not exactly. I roomed with him, and even shared a rickety bunk bed, for about a month when I first set foot on Austrian soil. Emil is an old friend, and certainly a roommate of choice!  And until a couple of months ago, Alex completed our splendid trio.  

A venerable insignia adorning the bathroom wall.

And here are we three, perfecting our stunt of model behavior.

I welcome this new development, thrilled at the prospect of a year-round ‘hallowed’ merry-making, but I also feel sad to part with Sepp, my roommate and travel companion this past year. Well, here are some photos in tribute to those memories.

A high view of dining – when it all began.

When in Rome.

Just like a 'certified' Franciscan.

Cutting up our roast duck for a home celebration.

Coffee and cake after a Sunday stroll in spring.

And, lastly, a glimpse of our nightly synaxis all'interno delle mura before lights-out: 

Ernst Barlach’s Die Lesenden Mönche III (1932).

A consideration on forming priests

Institution in the ministries of reader and acolyte, April 21.

It has been a year since any sign of activity showed on this blog. That is true. I would like to say that I have been away and used my time to ponder, and that now is the time, in true Dominican fashion, “to give to others the fruits of contemplation” – contemplata aliis tradere. But what it was, really, (and this is the ‘fruit’ I would like to impart) was a time of conversion, not that I am already a changed man, but in a way, yes, chipped, beaten and molded by life’s blacksmithing, sometimes attended by too many a striker. But, hey, aren’t we all?

Exactly my point. Our conversion is foremost one of becoming utterly human, a reconfiguring to a humanity to which we are called to unite ourselves fully and, ultimately, to redeem in Christ. After all, humanity with a delicate sense of creaturehood is the real stuff saints were made of! When one senses a call to the priesthood, he realizes that he is blessed among many – ‘blessed’ because he could not have merited it and only God’s blessing is all there is that sets him apart. He who is called knows that he is like all others and that he cannot allow himself to swoon into a mystic pride, or if he does, he must be brought back to his senses.

This, I am convinced, is what proper human formation, considered one of the pillars of seminary training, is mainly about. When a man increasingly finds himself as he is before God, gratitude fills his heart and that is when transfiguration comes about, and when he, like Jesus, is also confirmed in his divine sonship. And that is indispensable because only a grateful heart would make a humble servant, in other words, an apostle. The world which God so loves and saves has no need of mere cultic performers and empire builders; but it needs those sons who are willing to be sent on (their Father’s) business.

A joy that best comes in threes.

Once, we came under scrutiny by a visiting priest, who had led his religious community as abbot for a number of years before being asked by the bishops’ conference to spearhead its nationwide vocations campaign. (That qualified him as an expert in our eyes.) During our roundtable, he demanded that we show him a catalog of larger-than-life ‘human formation’ activities. We blushed with shame as we have never really cared to dissect and label our lives of intense daily interaction (not just among seminarians but with everyone in our mixed community and beyond) in snazzy terms for a most compelling road show.

Not that it matters what this high official thought or said, but even a wholesome strategy, as we believe ours to be, can escape anybody’s notice. We certainly cannot let that happen on our watch, for the strength and real efficacy of our pursuit lies not in mirroring structures foreign to us (although they may be salutary and extolled elsewhere), but in our commitment to daily, in both good times and bad, put on Christ.