WE ARE CHRISTMAS!

We are ANGELS, when our lives offer hymns of praise to God;

We are JOHN THE BAPTIST, when we lead others to God;

We are POOR SHEPHERDS, when we cannot boast of any treasure but God;

We are JOSEPH, when we humbly and quietly listen to the voice of God;

We are MARY, when we offer our all to God;

We are WISE MEN, when we recognize as true king and savior only God;

we are JESUS, when our loving words become loving works for others, when we strive, inspite of our weakness, our sins and shortcomings, to die to ourselves that others may live.

For when we embrace the cross of our daily lives, when we impose with joy upon ourselves the gentle burden of loving one another, when we constantly pave the way for the salvation of others, then we recover the great beauty of who we originally are, the IMAGE AND LIKENESS of our God;

Then we truly become IMMANUEL, LOGOS-INCARNATE, GOD-WITH-US!

WE ARE CHRISTMAS!

Advent Thoughts

If Christmas is just about...
spending lavishly
on toys for the cute little ones,
or banquets dripping
with fat, all syrupy,
and covered with tinsels
and false sparklers,
then Christmas is just not worth it.

Or do we mean...
the season of "peace on earth"
at that time of the year
for families who have much,
couched snuggly 'round burning logs,
overcome with burps,
effectively shielded
from the stench of the 'have not.'

For when Christmas is all these,
and only these,
then Christmas is a fake,
a most foul mistake,
an oppressive invention
of an ungrateful creation;
a slap on the face
of the Holy gift-Giver.

Christmas is a revolution
against the lie of the ages,
for the baby in the manger
is the most powerful of rulers.

He waged war against greed.
He brought down walls and divisions.
He reclaimed what is His.
He unmasked the deceiver.

Christmas is about...
food on the table for the gatherer of scraps,
and joy without price-tags for the urchins of the slums,
and smile on the faces of the harshly oppressed,
and a God who says "ENOUGH"
to His self-destructing children.

Christmas is homecoming...
for me,
for all.
Christmas is the triumph
of the good and the small.
Christmas is the new birth
for the children of the fall.
Christmas is Christ's shoulders
upon which I stand tall!

Pista ng Patay? Pista ng Buhay!

"...Kaya naghandog siya ng mga alay para sa mga yumao. Upang mapatawad sila sa kanilang kasalanan" (2 Mc.12:45)

Matao, maingay, matrapik, magulo ang halos lahat ng kalsada lalo na ang mga patungong sementeryo. May mga nagsabit na banderitas, nag-uusukang ihawan, naghihiyawang mga radyo, paroot-paritong libo-libong mga tao.

Ang Undas ay isang malaking pistang bayan para sa atin. Hinding-hindi palalampasin, hinding-hindi kaliligtaan. Kahit hirap sa buhay, salat sa pera, kapos sa maraming bagay, taon-taon, matiyagang nag-iipon maka-uwi lang sa sariling pamilya upang maki-pista, upang mangamusta, upang maki-saya.

Kakatwa lamang na lalong kilala ang Undas sa pangalang "Pista ng mga Patay." Bata pa ako'y ito na ang nakamulatang tawag sa taunang pagdiriwang.

Ngunit sa'n man bumaling, maliban sa mga naglipanang mga bata sa mga malls na nakasuot bampira at halimaw at demonyo at nagti-trikortrit na pausong dayuhan lamang at pilit nating ginagaya, o kaya'y sa mga palabas sa sine o TV na mga zombie at manananggal at mga beybing may pangil na lumalabas sa banga, wala naman talaga akong napupuna na mga patay na "nagpipista."

Wala pa rin akong nabalitaan na ang mga dinalhan ng spaghetti at puto at sandwhich at zesto sa kanilang mga puntod ay sila mismong dumudukwang mula sa nitso, nakiki-piraso sa mga atang at nakiki-sali sa mga kwentuhan at halakhakan.

Walang mga patay na nagpipista kung Pista ng mga Patay.

Buhay na buhay ang Pista ng mga Patay.

Ang Undas ay hindi pista ng mga patay kundi ng mga buhay. Ang Undas ay pista ng buhay. Ang Undas ay pista ng Pagkabuhay!

Sa Undas ay nagkikita-kita at nabubuong muli ang mga pamilya. Sa undas pinananariwa ang pananabik ng lahat na magtipong muli bilang magkaka-anak at magka-kaibigan. Walang patid na kainan at kasiyahan ang inihahatid ng mga buhay sa piling ng kanilang mga himbing na mahal sa buhay.

Higit sa lahat, hindi matatawaran ang ganda ng banal na pagkakataong ang pamilya, sa isang bihirang tagpo, ay sama-sama sa pananalangin, sama-sama sa pag-alala, sama-sama sa paligid ng mahal na yumao.

Hayaan na ang trapik at ingay, ang gastos at init, ang abala at pagod...sulit na sulit naman at nakapagpapasigla ng kalooban.

Pinawawalang-bisa ng Undas ang bangis ng kamatayan. Pinaaalala ng Undas na hindi tayo pananaigan ng kamatayan, na hindi tayo pinanganak ngayon para lang mamatay at mawalang parang bula bukas. Binibigyang saysay ng taunang Undas ang mga pagsusumikap nating magmahal, magmalasakit, maglingkod at magpatawaran sa isa't isa: na ang mga ito'y paghahanda lamang natin sa malaking pagtitipon natin sa langit pagdating ng araw.

Pinaiigting ng Undas ang buhay na pag-asa sa puso ng bawat isa ng ang nararanasang saya sa mga mumunting pagtitipon ngayon ng mga pamilya sa puntod ng mga yumao ay patikim lamang ng mas malaki, mas masaya, at walang-hanggang kapistahan ng buhay: isang engrandeng "family reunion" nating lahat sa bahay ng ating Ama.

Ang Undas ay hindi pista ng mga patay.

Ang Undas ay pista ng buhay.

Ang Undas ay pista ng pagkabuhay!

ALA-ALA

Buti pa ang kandila, nauupos sa pagluha,
may silbi ang ningas ng asul na dila,
at kapag lusaw na at wala nang mitsa,
may hangganan ang dusa,
at tiyak ang tadhana.

Buti pa ang ulan gano man ang bagsik
'pag sa-id na ang ulap agad ding tumitila
ay hindi ang malalim at masukal na hukay,
ang puwang na iniwan
ng ganap mong paglisan.

Ang gusot kong damit at maong na kupas
ay sabik sa dampi ng mainit na plantsa;
ang tuyo't sinangag na mainit sa umaga,
ngayon ay malamig
sa pangungulila.

Ayaw nang pansinin langitngit ng pintuan,
ang maingay na anunsyo ng kasinungalingan,
nang hindi na masaktan ng huwad na pangakong
isang araw nariyan ka't
sa hapag ay kasalo.

Labis ba kung sakaling ako ay humiling
na saglit na takasan nitong diwang malupit?
Mamanhid man lang sana ang kirot at hapdi,
manumbalik ang gana't
ang ngiti'y maiguhit.

At kung 'di rin lang aring makalimot ang isip
ako sana'y haplusin ng pag-asang madilim
na doon sa hangganan nitong aking paglaboy
ay muli kang makita't
mahagkan ang pisngi.

Heaven on Earth

"You are no longer strangers" says the Apostle Paul to the church at Ephesus. "You are no longer sojourners."

We are fellow citizens with the holy ones; we are family members of the household of God!

This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ for us.

This is the Gospel Apostles, Saints and Martyrs throughout the ages heroically labored and lovingly offered their lives for: that we may realize and start living not anymore as strangers and isolated, unrelated individuals but as family, as fellows, as friends in Jesus.

We can only be Church if we begin living as a family - caring, building up, forgiving and asking forgiveness from one another.

When we live thus, then we become truly Church.

Then the Church becomes the Body of Christ,

Household of the Lord,

Heaven on Earth!

Two Servings of Merton on a Stormy Monday Night

Keep your eyes clean and your ears quiet and your mind serene. Breathe God's air.

Work, if you can, under His sky.

But if you have to live in a city and work among machines and ride in the subways and eat in a place where the radio makes you deaf with spurious news and where the food destroys your life and the sentiments of those around you poison your heart with boredom, do not be impatient, but accept it as the love of God and as a seed of solitude planted in your soul.

If you are appalled by those things, you will keep your appetite for the healing silence of recollection. But meanwhile - keep your sense of compassion for the men who have forgotten the very concept of solitude.

You, at least, know that it exists, and that it is the source of peace and joy.

You can still hope for such joy. They do not even hope for it any more.

+++

I have the immense joy of being a member of a race in which God became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. THERE IS NO WAY OF TELLING PEOPLE THAT THEY ARE ALL WALKING AROUND SHINING LIKE THE SUN...if only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed. I SUPPOSE THE BIG PROBLEM WOULD BE THAT WE WOULD FALL DOWN AND WORSHIP EACH OTHER. But this cannot be seen, only believed and "understood" by a peculiar gift...

Ang Ngiti Mo (tulang nasagap sa estribo ng LRT)...P.Neruda

Pagtawanan mo ang gabi,
ang araw, ang buwan,
pagtawanan mo ang mga liku-likong
landas sa isla,
pagtawanan mo ang torpeng
lalaking ito na nagmamahal sa iyo,
ngunit kapag bubuksan ko
at isasara ang aking mga mata,
kapag ako ay umalis,
kapag ako ay muling bumalik
ipagkait mo na sa akin ang tinapay
ang hangin, ang liwanag at ang tagsibol,
huwag lamang ang iyong ngiti
dahil ito ay aking ikasasawi.



Quítame el pan, si quieres,
quítame el aire, pero
no me quites tu risa.
No me quites la rosa,
la lanza que desgranas,
el agua que de pronto
estalla en tu alegría,
la repentina ola
de plata que te nace.

Mi lucha es dura y vuelvo
con los ojos cansados
a veces de haber visto
la tierra que no cambia,
pero al entrar tu risa
sube al cielo buscándome
y abre para mí todas
las puertas de la vida.

Amor mío, en la hora
más oscura desgrana
tu risa, y si de pronto
ves que mi sangre mancha
las piedras de la calle,
ríe, por que tu risa
será para mis manos
como una espada fresca.

Junto al mar en otoño,
tu risa debe alzar
su cascada de espuma,
y en primavera, amor,
quiero tu risa como
la flor que yo esperaba,
la flor azul, la rosa
de mi patria sonora.

Ríete de la noche,
del día, de la luna,
ríete de las calles
torcidas de la isla,
ríete de este torpe
muchacho que te quiere,
pero cuando yo abro
los ojos y los cierro,
cuando mis pasos van,
cuando vuelven mis pasos,
niégame el pan, el aire,
la luz, la primavera,
pero tu risa nunca
por que me moriría.

SIYA NAWA

Siyam na taon ng biyaya at awa,
Siyam na taon ng lungkot at tuwa,
Siyam na taon ng hirap at ginhawa,
Siyam na taong ang dasal “Siya nawa.”

Siyam na taong napuno ng unawa
Ng Poong minahal at hindi binitawan.
Pumalaot mang minsan sa gitna ng sigwa,
O tahimik na nagkumot sa tuktok ng kalinga.

At siyam na taon ng pakikidigma
Sa palaging pag-usli ng makitid kong diwa,
Ay siyam na taon rin ng kapatawaran,
Ng pag-ibig na sagana at bagong simula.

At Siyang mangingibig kung saan nagmula
Ang banayad na atas ng pakiki-punla
Ay ‘di natitinag sa pagsaboy ng pataba
Upang ang pananim ay saganang magbunga.

Ay hindi makakayang kagyat ma’y tumbasan
Ang marami’t maulit na pag-ahong kinamtan
Sa tuwing sasadlak sa kulapol ng sala
At malulunoy sa limahid ng dusa.

Ang siyam na taong ipinagpipista
Ay ‘di kayang maabot ng sarili kong sikap
Kundi sa Kanya lamang na pagpapatnubay
At pirming pag-haplos ng Banal Niyang Kamay.

Beyond the Painted Board (The Icon-writer as an Icon himself)

I am an Icon. I am an image of the miracle called life. I did not know when I will be born nor will I ever come into being at all. I did not pre-select through whose union I’ll be brought about into life. From the millions of possibilities, I came to be.

My world is an Icon. Though I cannot anymore remember when I first caught sight of light, everything just gradually, sometimes gently, sometimes brutally, revealed itself to me. What at first appeared to me but a succession of unrelated hues and blobs and shapes, what in the beginning seemed to me but a train of incomprehensible buzz and echoes of strange sounds and stirrings, what then felt as a variety of unknown sensations and textures: all these morphed into images and sounds and a complex combination of any two or three or all of them that now define what I come to know of myself, my relationships, my environment.

My life journey is an Icon. The way I think, relate and react, the choices I make on when to speak out or remain silent, what urges me to do something or keep still, that which fires me up into burning passions or hurls me down into cold disaffection, my proud moments of accomplishments and the humbling instances of my misjudgments and failures, the decisions I make of where to invest my capacity to love as well as what to choose to ignore and let go, my acceptances and rejections, that on-going, inner discernment I have to grapple with as to when to be receptive of the others’ loves and when to be wary of them, of sifting through truths and lies: these comprise the dynamic and yet to be finished Icon of this pilgrimage called my life. This is my life’s Icon as a work-in-progress. Many more “learnings” are yet to be learned, many more mistakes corrected and unlearned. My life is an Icon that remains open to developments that are yet to unfold.

I am an Icon. I am an image of the miracle called life. I fully participate in my Icon's creation while at the same time concede of not being its true iconographer; that in the whole enterprise of writing the Icon of my life, I am but a collaborator from whom is required a generous “emulsion” of faith, humility, docility, simplicity and charity, so that the desired outcome may truly be revealed.

I am an Icon, an image of the miracle called life. An Icon that is yet to be fully accomplished, an Icon awaiting its completion. God is my Iconographer. With hope I anticipate, while I continue to struggle to constantly cooperate in its making, the perfection of this Divine Iconography of the Eternal Iconographer Himself. I am a still-being-written Icon of God.

'PAG MARAMING BITBIT, MARAMI RING SABIT

Pag maraming bitbit, sangkatutak din ang sabit.
'di minsang napaalalahanan na ang bawat isa sa atin:
Kapag bumibyahe, kailangan kumportable.
'pag hakot ng hakot, ang abala'y katakot-takot.
walang kapahingahan; pirming hapo; palaging balisa.

Ang taong pala-hakot at pala-bitbit,
Kung saan-saan nasasabit.
Habang daan kung pala-ipon at pala-kimkim,
palaki ng palaki,
pabigat ng pabigat,
pabagal ng pabagal.

Hindi natitinag ang paghingal.
Laging kapos ang hininga.
At pag dumating na sa pintuang pang huli,
Hirap na hirap at hindi na magkasya.

Anumang pilit ang gawin,
Anumang siksik ang tangkain,
Kung hindi bibitiw at magpapakawala
ng mga patung-patong na inimbak na basura,
Hinding-hindi makapapasok
Sa makipot na bukana.

Siya lamang na malaon ng nagsanay
Magbigay at magbuka ng palad;
Siya lamang na hindi mapag-ipon
Ng tira-tira ng kahapon;
Siya lamang na marunong humindi,
kapag busog na't ang iba ay hindi pa;
Siya lamang na marunong magtimpi,
upang magbigay daan sa iba kung minsan;
Siya lamang ang huhusto,
kakasya't lulusot;
Siya lamang ang makapapasok,
sa pintong maliit,
papunta ng langit.

The Mr. Timawa Diary 5

FB friend 1: Amishu na : )
FB friend 2: U den nga pow eh...kitakits naman!

(nagkita kinabukasan sa kalye)

FB friend 1: Kamusta?
FB friend 2: anu uli name mo?

(tsk tsk...)

The Mr. Timawa Diary 4

After the morning mass...

-nanaginip po ako kagabi, si Jesus nakapula, si Mama Mary naka blue. bumaba daw sa akin, may ibinulong. ano po ibig sabihin nun?

-ano ba sinabi sa iyo?

-'di ko po naintindihan mabuti e, pero ano po ba ibig sabihin kaya nun?

-ba malay ko. 'di ko din ikaw maintindihan e.

-father naman. ano gagawin ko?

-tulog ka uli tanong mo muna kung ano sabi nila sa 'yo...hehe...

The Mr. Timawa Diary 3

-so ano ka bale ngayon?
-pari.
-pari lang? walang posisyon? ranggo? titulo? etc.?
-oo.
(ususera walks away frustrated...hahahahahaha!)

The Mr. Timawa Diary 2

July 19, 2010; 6:30PM

Mr.Timawa: Ms., walang mas malapad dito, kailangan ko ng mantel e

Ms.: Naku yan na lang po sir e, pero maganda naman yan

Mr.T: Oo nga pero makipot

Ms.: pwede rin po yan sir, ganda nga e, e di lagay nyo na lang po sa gitna ng mesa, gawin nyo na lang na RUNNING TABLE...

(Mr. Timawa quickly ran toward the store exit...)

The Mr. Timawa Diary

July 16, 2010; 11:00PM

Near-Midnight Snack:

...fill bowl to indicated line with boiling water. Close lid and steep for THREE MINUTES! pagka-buhos ng boiling water, higop agad. Pwede naman palamigin konti. Taste buds: dead for three days...basahin muna kasi ng mabuti ang instructions sa label ng Nissin tas mag intay saglit!...

Reluctant Jonah

Because I’m pregnant
With fire my guts ablaze;
Molten metals red and glowing
Billowing outburst
Exploding deep within;
Awakening,
Emerging,
The flight of dawn awaiting.

Of street signs
And girth and heights and lengths,
Of varying hues and portals
I was fed;
Until my mug of morning woes
Was filled to overflowing
Much more than what I ever need
As fuel for a day’s travail.

Some do know me, another few
Who love I guess;
And less than a handful, hardcore loonies
Would dare with me transgress,
The stiff and mortared walls of niceties,
To swim, and fly, rappel;
To laugh out loud and faint,
To cry before I’m dead.

And thus not with a small amount
Of excruciating pangs I wait;
My stupor state
A bait
For some monster fish to open up
and swallow me anew,
To germinate deep
Within its fishy bowels
As it transports me
Back to the Nineveh I once despised.

And when the whole enterprise
of regurgitation's done
I would,
I must,
On its sandy beach
Give birth.

Admonition: Schermer to Hoyt-Chichimanggas

maalab na lubha ang damdaming taglay
nitong tinula ng loob mong lantay
ramdam ang bangis at tingkad ng sigwa
na dagling namaalam makatapos lumatay

at 'di rin naman kinapos sa paglingap
lalong 'di rin manhid sa kinahinatnan
ng maraming ka-uri na iyong pinagmulan
narinig nang malinaw hangad mong paki-pisan

kaya't mayroon mang bagyo o wala
masidhi man ang araw o sagsag ang ulan
ang pagbalong ng wika ay 'wag mong pipigilan
na umapaw at sa bibig mo ay mamunga

ang paglapat ng pluma sa pirasong papel
upang ilahad kaganapan ng buhay
biyayang magaling at sa 'yo natatangi
na kapag pinatulog agad ding mababawi

pagtula't paglikha ng maraming larawan
ay ligayang walang mararaming katapat
kundi ang bangkito at samboteng malamig
ng mahal mong serbesa pagdating ng gabi!

Hoyt-Chichimanggas to Schermer On The Aftermath of Basyang

Bossing hope the storm aftermath has now cleared up. Just wanted to share with (you) a poem about the recent calamity. Hope all is well pads.


Kayod-kabayo,
Pukpok sa martilyo.
Pilit idinugtong ng mga pakong kalawangin,
Mga basang kahoy, natuyo ng hangin mahabagin

Tubig at pawis
Naghalo sa kalsadang marungis
Batang aba, lumangoy sa dapat na batis
Animo’y ilat sa alingasaw at putik

Dugo mong busilak
Sa uga’t lamang ang pagdanak
Ngayo’y itim na galos sa balat
Itim na islang nailubog ng luha

Mga alaalang itinatangi
Inilibing ng agos at sidhi
Hikbing nag-uumapaw, pilit sugpuin
Maisalba lamang, mga santo’t panalangin

Hagupit ng kalikasan
Parusang di ninais makamtan
Tila mga langgam sa munsik,
Ngunit sa diwa’t isipay’ lakas ng pananalig

Responsibility On-line

"While I can appreciate the democratic nature of allowing anyone online to share his or her thoughts, the surfeit of wrong grammar, erroneous assumptions and the downright MEANNESS of some of what is written and expressed in cyberspace is both appalling and revealing...ultimately, we should RAISE THE BENCHMARK (in our cyber blogging enterprise) out of courtesy, consideration, and respect to the public, who, after all, we invite to view what we say and what we write."

Adel Tamano, Mano-A-Mano, The Age of Rant
(F-2, Sunday Lifestyle, The Phil. Star, July 11, 2010)

IT IS ALREADY IN ME (15th Sunday, C)

"It is not up in the sky, that you should say,
'Who will go up in the sky to get it for us
and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?'
Nor is it across the sea, that you should say,
'Who will cross the sea to get it for us
and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?'
No, it is something very near to you,
already in your mouths and in your hearts;
you have only to carry it out."
(Deuteronomy 30, 10-14)


No need to device a long ladder, tall enough to reach for it into the heavens.
No need to probe the depths of the oceans, the bottom of the seas.
It is already in my mouth; already in my heart;
It is already IN ME.
My mouth blabbers: "Love;"
My heart declares: "Love;"
My hands and my feet are yet to prove the latter.


I, like the scholar of the law who conversed with the master,
Knew the commandments by heart.
I studied the precepts.
I memorized the festivals.
I have already celebrated countless holy days and sacraments and rituals and
ceremonies.
I could argue, and debate, and interpolate all I want
On the finer details of the faith I profess and claim to belong to,
My mouth blabbers: "Love;"
My heart declares: "Love;"
My hands and my feet are yet to prove the latter.

The master knew that I could answer Him correctly on the matters of the law.
He does not need any answer that comes from my mouth though.
He desires that I live.
And I will only if I start doing it.

The world is full of talkers and arguers.
The world has more than enough of them.
The master has no need of any of them.
He rather is on the watch for the doers.

Bagong Gising

Gumising na naman ang Lupang Hinirang

Sa kapeng malabnaw at maingay na girian

Ng mga sasakyan na nag-uunahan

Takot nang mahuli dahil bawal ang wang-wang.


Malagkit mang tila ang mainit na hangin

At mala-purgatoryo ang maghapong pirmi

Kung sa pagiging maagap at tapat mamumulat

Ay muling lilipad itong bayang nahirati.

WORDS

We encounter each other in words, words

spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,

words to consider, reconsider.

- Elizabeth Alexander, Praise Song for the Day, (a poem for the presidential inauguration of Barack Obama, January 20, 2009)

Words are powerful.
Words can bring good news. Words can devastate good moods.
Words can fire up passions. Words can dampen hearts.
Words give life.
Words kill.
Words build up bridges and loves.
Words effectively annihilate them.
Words elicit compassion.
Words excrete disgust.
Words hurt.
Words heal.
Words transform, they too can retard.
Words validate friendships.
Words end some.
Words transgress.
Words forgive.
Words can spark a new beginning.
Words restore peace.

Words are powerful.
We are guardians of words.
We are stewards of words.
We are responsible for the words that we mouth.
We are accountable for the words that we hit or caress the other with.
We are just as good as our words.
We can be loved and trusted and treasured when we become what our words say.
We we will be left in the cold and darkness when we are not what our words say.
Words can be meaningful.
Words can also be worthless.

Only when we and our words become one and the same thing,
can we transform and be transformed,
build and be built,
trust and be trusted,
respect and be respected,
love and be loved.

THOUGHTS ON BOARD KE094

...again, in-between a Korean grandma and a chubby Amerasian girl, with their bags, stuff toy and a banana, I was assigned to seat E33. I am heading home, tired, exhausted, forced to plug into the plane's in-house music (a less annoying option than do a marathon of the cheesy movie selection), for lack of better things to do.

- It has been a good two-months since I first found myself in this same predicament.

- In-between two strangers, co-passengers, an old, congenial lady and a taba, sleepy neneng.

- Flight attendants with their rehearsed and measured niceties.

- Two months ago I was in the same position. But coming home was not quite the same.

- Laden not so much with excess baggage from too much buying of useless trash, but rather with an overflow of happy memories: of newly forged friendships, or the strengthening of old ones; learnings and un-learnings; new things and sights; delights and mishaps...

- I left two months ago with a heart swollen with uncertainties. I am coming home replenished and renewed.

TURBYULENS

Malubak na tila ang kalsada ng langit
na aking binaybay na dala ang himig
at heleng malambing ngunit 'di umubrang
magdala ng himbing sa puyat na tampipi.

Ma-ugoy ang duyang higante kong lulan
kay tayog ng lundag at kay lalim ng bagsak,
napuno ng sindak itong aking paglayag
pabalik, pauwi dun sa kuna kong dati-

Naming kalye, palaruang maluwag,
madilim, maliwanag, mapayapa't marahas;
kung minsa'y malinis, madalas ay marungis,
nguni't walang salang takbuhan parati.

Malubak din pala ang kalsada sa langit,
ako'y tila bangkang pumalaot mabuti
sa gitna ng dagat sa kasagsagan ng sigwa
at tanging sindak ang hapuna't almusal.

Ba't dati'y masarap ang nakatingala,
tulalang nakatitig sa malambot na ulap,
at malinaw na asul ang kisameng mataas
na panglinis kong lagi sa limahid ng lupa.

Ba't dati ang akala'y matuwid ang kalsada
at makinis na puti ang kanyang palitada
ay ngayon may nginig at nababahala
na baka magmistulang ligaw na saranggola.

Malubak mang tila ang kalsada ng langit
ang hanging daana'y lawit man ang sungit
ang lahat ng ito'y 'di inaalintana
sapagkat sabik na sa hapag ng pag-ibig.

My Peborit Things

Tortang giniling and Coke na me yelo,
Buhaghag na kanin na straight from kaldero,
Tilapia na tinapa at tuyong Bataan,
These are a few of my peborit things.

Laboy sa kalye at kalkal sa ukay,
Painting at sulat ng tungkol sa buhay,
Joy-ride sa jeepney at siksik sa tren,
These are a few of my peborit things.

Maglakwatsa, bisikleta, mag-videoke pa,
Kasimple ng trip ko sa araw-araw
At sa mag-hapon, solve ka!

Coffee at chismis at tawang bangketa,
Manakot ng e-engot engot na bata,
Tambay kasama ang mga repapips,
These are a few of my peborit things.

Sabit sa may gimik kapag walang pera,
Bangka sa usapan kahit walang wenta,
Basta’t ang kasama ay mga barkada,
These are a few of my peborit things.

Maikli lang ating buhay, bawal ang drama
‘di baleng Boy Bawang at Red Horse lang nga
Basta’t Barkada, solve ka!

Coffee Break Is Over

I am an empty page,
A crumpled, used up leaf,
Of a calendar gone stale.

I am an empty tin
Can of half-eaten, half-eschewed,
Mash of unrecognizable bits,
Described on the label
As the equivalent of a day’s worth
Of calories and additives.

After the days,
After the hours,
After the moments spent
In a blissful suspended-animation-like state
Of a time snatched from the cruelties of what is real,
And allowed for a while
To wallow in the indulgences of a parallel world,
I am back,
Confronted
By that basic me,
The empty tin can ,
The empty page.

I am once more
An empty page,
An empty tin
Can of nothingness,
Awaiting replenishment.

HOMAGE

Yesterday, in Louisville, at the corner of 4th and Walnut, suddenly realized that I loved all the people and that none of them were, or, could be totally alien to me. As if waking from a dream — the dream of my separateness, of the “special” vocation to be different. My vocation does not really make me different from the rest of men or put me in a special category except artificially, juridically. I am still a member of the human race — and what more glorious destiny is there for man, since the Word was made flesh and became, too, a member of the Human Race!

— from A Search for Solitude: Pursuing
the Monk’s True Life (The Journals
of Thomas Merton, Volume
Three, 1952-1960)

ANTICIPATIONS (ENCORE)

Anticipate all parting, as if it were behind
you, like the winter that’s now passing.
For under winters is one winter so endless,
only in overwintering can your heart overcome…

M. R. Rilke

Parting is distressing. Sad, heavy thoughts of leaving places and faces behind. Especially the latter I guess. Parting always requires mourning, and after mourning comes burying, forgetting, letting go, and a host of other rituals man has invented since the dawn of time to assuage the pain that gnaws at the heart in every experience of parting.

Anticipating is waiting transformed. Parting as anticipation is just like the brimming up of exhilaration that fills one's breast as he nears the end of a chapter of a really engrossing book, knowing that the plot is just beginning to thicken and that he is in for some surprising twists and turns in the pages that follow. When seen in the light of anticipation, parting is transformed. It becomes a celebration, a lavish and abundant banquet where friends feast on a collective harvest of strengthened bonds and deepened loves. Parting as anticipation is a looking forward to greater times ahead.

I choose to look at this moment of parting with a pair of anticipation-colored specs.

CORPUS CHRISTI

"Give them something to eat yourselves" said the Master. In the midst of our own
exhaustion and hunger, the mandate is for us to "still" be food for the flock we vowed
to serve. He is in-charge, we are his collaborators. It is our task to humbly obey, it
is his promise to multiply the bread!

ANTICIPATIONS

Anticipation is my learning. Each day is anticipating the next, when filled with blessings, even one that might be full of tribulations. Anticipation is each waking time, looking forward to something good that’s sure to come; to the good in me that is waiting to come forth; even the unexpected good from unexpected visitors who might be angels coming to us unawares.

Anticipation is my learning. It is the opposite of anxiety. Anticipation casts its hopeful eyes toward joy; anxiety, towards gloom.

Finding a home on earth is anticipating a far better one beyond. Finding love on earth is anticipating a greater one. Warm relationships anticipate a never-ending communion of pure and holy love which is to come. Only in anticipating can one start truly living.

Icons are anticipations. They’re windows of what awaits our many struggles and daily attempt to live as if we are already living in the heavenly mansion we are anticipating; the sanctuary and font of All-Good.

Anticipation is waiting transformed!

IN HONOR OF THE HOLY THEOTOKOS "MANILANSKAYA"

THE QUIETING OF MARY WITH THE RESURRECTED ONE (R.M.Rilke)

What they felt then: is it not

Above all the mysteries the sweetest

and yet still earthly:

when he, pale from the grave,

his burdens laid down, went to her:

risen in all places.

Oh first to her. How they

inexpressively began to heal.

Yes, to heal: that simple. They felt no need

to touch each other strongly.

He placed his hand, which next

would be eternal, for scarcely

a second on her womanly shoulder.


And they began

quietly as trees in spring

in infinite simultaneity

their season

of ultimate communing.


(More honorable than the Cherubim,
and beyond compare more glorious than the Seraphim,
Thee who without corruption
gavest birth to God the Word,
the very THEOTOKOS;
Thee do we magnify!)

AT THE ICON STUDIO

First,
Virginia taught me
light.
She urged me,
light up.
Tarred, nicotine-lined
pleasure-sticks
the flavor
of death.

Or was it,
death as in death?
or debts
a thousand times over,
with every puff
the cough
releases
momentary cares
and monetary squabbles.

Then,
Virginia taught me light.
The spark of unknowing
Where I put up a fight;
of most everything
un-learning.

In her I discovered
That dogs came from pollen
or the other way around,
and rainbows appear
not from some sparkling pool
then end in a pot of gold.
By some humbler instructions
I learned
that all colors come from the ground.

SECRETS

We are all secrets...
We bump.
We burst into secrets.
T.Merton (May 6th, Woods, Shore, Desert)


I become human only in so far as I am able to reveal myself to the other;
as long as I am receptive of their self-revelation to me.

I am a secret waiting to unfold.

You are a secret to me.

The more that we bump,
the more that we burst,
the more that we realize
how immense and unfathomable our secrets are
to one another.

Human living is a never ending search into the unknowable.

God is the great unknown.

God is the great "secret."

We are His image and likeness.

We are secrets.

THE WORLD, MY DESERT

The desert Fathers believed that the wilderness had been created as supremely valuable in the eyes of God precisely because it had no value to men. The wasteland was the land that could never be wasted by men because it offered them nothing. There was nothing to attract them. There was nothing to exploit...EVERYWHERE IS DESERT...

T.Merton, Thoughts in Solitude, pp.18.20



THE WORLD,

MY DESERT.

EVERYWHERE I GO,

THERE I MUST FIND

MY DESERT.

EVERYWHERE

IS

DESERT.

GATES

Always I go from gate to gate,/ rained on, scorched by the sun;/ suddenly I press my right ear/ into my right hand./ And now my own voice comes to me/ as if I'd never known it.
R.M.Rilke, The Beggar's Song

It was a gate to the "new" I have stumbled into. New world, new faces, new sights and sounds, new tounge unfolding, new flavors bursting, new relationships unraveling...a new me emerging.

"A new heaven and a new earth" said our Lord in the second reading of yesterday's Eucharist. And Rilke couldn't possibly be more precise in saying: "suddenly I press my right ear into my right hand./ And now my own voice comes to me/ as if I'd never known it." I didn't only do it with my right ear and hand. I dunked my entire face into my cupped hands in humble recognition of the newness of it all.

I am the beggar now at the gates of my Father's house. But mercifully, I need not even knock. He already rushed to meet me halfway...

Our New Heaven And Our New Earth

Behold, I make all things new! (Rev21:1 and ff.)

I give you a new commandment: love one another.
As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. (Jn 13:31 and ff.)

A new way of loving!

A new way of living!

Loving the old way has long lost its power. Living the old way has long lost its life.

Loving the old way is loving MY way. Living the old way is living life MY way.

Loving MY way is expecting others to accept the terms of my loving them. It means leading them and ordering them in such a way as to direct everyone into an inward spiral that culminates in their thanking me, in their admiring me, in their marveling in awe at my own imagined greatness and superiority over them. Loving MY way is siphoning life out of the other. Loving MY way is making others hate themselves for not being like me. Loving MY way is to create others in MY own image and likeness. Loving MY way is the antithesis of the Divine Creation. Loving MY way is usurping the place of God in my life and that of the others. Loving MY way is losing my way to God and to others. Loving MY way is actually hating myself for it necessarily implies getting God and others out of my way. It means removing them from the equation of the whole economy of Divine Love, and in so doing, reducing the said equation into nothing but a dung heap.

Jesus reminds us quite emphatically of what it truly means to love the new and renewing way. Loving the NEW way is loving the Jesus Way. Living the new way is living the Jesus Way.

To love like Jesus is not to be a clone of Jesus. To live like Jesus is not to be a facsimile of Jesus. He thus reminded his disciples: “I shall be with you but only for a little while.” “I will be returning to the Father, you will be left on your own; go on and do as I did with you.” To love and live like Jesus is to strive to love and live in humility and selflessness. To love and live like Jesus is to discard our old way of measuring others’ worth by the love that they give back to us. To love and live like Jesus is to freely and happily dispose of all that is in us that others may live life to the full. To love and live like Jesus is to die like Him that the seed of love may take root and grow and bear much fruit in others. To love and live like Jesus is to share in His resurrection through the harvest of the love that we have so planted in others.

It is only by truly loving and living like Our Lord that we effectively and actively participate in the building of our New Heaven and our New Earth!

OVERCAST

Though the world changes quickly,
Like shapes of clouds,
Everything once finished falls
Back to ancient grounds.

R.M. Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus, I,19 (trans. G. Kinnell and H. Liebmann)



An apt reminder from Rilke. “Everything once finished…” fun times, old and new friends, new things, discoveries, sights and sounds, accumulating debris…all shall come to an end.

It is a fact, an inescapable reality. That ever imminent dark cloud, that shadowy overcast that gets in the way of the ephemeral sun rays that fall on each of us, is simply there waiting for its cue to dawn upon us at the appointed time.

This I suspect is the cause for many a desperate soul to scamper for temporary shelters and all manners of cover. It is there. It is coming. One day it’s here! Before we knew it, we are already smothered by it.

So why worry? Why the anxiety? Why the futile attempt to hold on to things that shall one day be swept away together with all the rest?

Nothing that we could firmly grasp with our hands shall remain; but only those that has latched onto the innermost chamber of our hearts.

YOU ARE MINE (GOOD SHEPHERD SUNDAY)

It is an assurance, a pledge, a declaration of ownership. They are my sheep says the Good Shepherd. They recognize my voice. They follow me. I know them. They are MINE.

These words of the Lord Jesus has a ring of parental certitude in them, the kind that just hits you and stops you right on your tracks the moment you get an inch closer than the acceptable boundary near some zealously protected children by a feisty mom who’s all too ready to pounce on anyone who would spell danger to her offspring.

They are MINE!

This is the loving Savior proclaiming to the entire world: they came from me! I am their Mother! They came from my womb! I knew each and every one of them! I am their Father! Don’t you dare come near and endanger any one of them! Not one of them will be lost. No one among them shall perish. No one can take them out of my hands!

The good news is that it is for our sakes that Jesus speaks these words. We are his sheep. We are his children. Not one of us shall be left in the cold and dark. Not one of us shall be made to suffer mercilessly in the hands of the hirelings. We are his sheep. He is our shepherd.

We are HIS!

This is an invitation for us to reexamine the way we live our lives, the way we regard ourselves, the way we look at others, the things we busy ourselves with, the many things that preoccupy our every waking and reposing.

This is an invitation for us to quit living in fear and insecurity! This is an invitation for us to dare step out of our miseries and anxieties; the uncertainty and the belief that we are all aimlessly and purposelessly headed nowhere after all that we have done with our daily grind in life. This is our God telling us: listen to my voice and get right back on track! You all came from me and will one day head straight home to me! This is Jesus assuring us: it is alright to be happy and free! It is perfectly fine to enjoy a life which is delightfully spent serving and caring for the other! This is the Lord telling us: do not be afraid to come back to me! To make friends with me and your neighbors! To savor the sweet scent of a holy and simple life! To love and be loved!

No one can take you out of my hands! Nothing can take you out of my sight!

You are MINE!

Below Heaven and Over the Earth

A few thousand feet above the land, above the sea; above everything else that make up my world - my environment, my earth, my paradise, my hell; way beyond the limits of yesterday and far away from enemies and friends, here I am on top of them all, suspended between heaven and earth.

it is surreal as it is so real, this freedom, this newness, this precise moment in my life when I am cast right at the center of my two worlds, spiritual and physical. I am an anonymous drift in the midst of faces I cannot recognize, and tongues I cannot comprehend.

The ship's all crowded yet it feels that it's now just me and the "Great Other." It's Genesis all over again. I am now shod with the shoes of Adam, who was tasked with the role of "giving a name," of "calling" those around him with something he can relate to, and in so doing, define the kind of relationship he'd like to have with Him from whose "womb" he has emerged.

How shall I call Him?

What name shall I give Him?

HAUL A CATCH...IT IS THE LORD!

When it's Jesus who says "throw your nets into the deep,"

one could expect that he's in for a big catch;

even when it is dark,

even when it is stormy,

even when it seems that the sea is empty...

It is the Lord!

COME, LET'S HAVE BREAKFAST... (3rd Sunday of Easter)

It was a simple invitation. An invitation so typical and familiar of Him; an invitation that sounded so similar to the one that they all heard when they first met him…”come, follow me…”

It was an invitation not to participate in some spirited discussion or debate about metaphysical and intangible concepts. It definitely was not an invitation to blind submission. It was an invitation to share the table. It was invitation to break bread. It was an invitation to enter an intimate and transforming kind of friendship. It was an invitation to communion.

To follow the Lord is to share his table. To follow Jesus is to breakfast with Jesus. To follow God is to break bread with God. To follow Him is to “enter” His life.

Only through sitting at table with the Lord could we truly participate in the mystery of Easter. Only by having a meal with Him as our friend could we fully appreciate his insane love for each of us that led him to suffer and die on the cross, so that we may not anymore suffer the same, but instead share in the glory of His rising to new life.

To breakfast with the Lord is to be reconciled with Him. To breakfast with Jesus is to stop running away from Him. To breakfast with the Lord is for us to begin to stoop down and start washing the feet of one another in imitation of Him. To breakfast with the Lord is to cast away our disbelief and to throw our nets deeper into the vast sea, with the firm conviction that we are in for a bountiful catch. To breakfast with Jesus is to cast our nets deeper into the depths of one another’s hearts, with the intent of drawing God’s beauty and goodness out of each one of us; this entails that we dive past the limitations, the weaknesses, the quirks, the differences, the oftentimes petty and ridiculous frictions with which we strangle and demolish our many relationships. To breakfast with Jesus is to look at those with whom we share the same invitation not as rivals and enemies, but rather friends and siblings.

Come…let’s have breakfast with Our Risen savior!

HOLY THURSDAY-NINE YEARS AFTER (IN MEMORY OF ALING SONIA)

Over mounds of swahe and heaps of steaming rice, I was in the company of friends, gorging on our midday banquet of seafood and gossips, in a busy Baclaran Market. Our table that day was an extension of the earlier, holier one over which we concelebrated our morning Eucharist. It was Chrism Mass 2001.

To be precise, I was just a deacon then, a mere servant waiting on the table of the Lord. But I was king in that rowdy, Formica-topped version of the other-worldly one, happily chattering and chewing away, completely unaware of the impending gloom that a certain phone call would cast on me and my family only a few minutes later.

Sonia’s gone I would later learn. But the shattering impact of that rather rude announcement would not hit me immediately. The refusal, the denial on my part was just as immediate. It simply cannot be, my reconnoitering senses would argue. Or perhaps it is true. But what else is new? Sonia’s always gone…that is, to a nearby mall for instance, when the mercury shoots beyond 35; or to the market, when she fancies a dish she wanted to regale the hungry pack with; or to Tita Dory’s house, when she wanted to smuggle some treats. It was routine for her to be always on the go, and in haste at that, to the point sometimes of failing to realize that what she has just slipped on her sore feet was a non-pair of a sandal and a rubber flip-flop. She seemed to have always been on the go for something, or to some place, for a meeting or an errand, or a leisurely escape from the daily cares of household management. But as quickly as her going away is her prompt return back home, often with some stray kittens or diseased pups she has picked up on the way. These orphans she would then unfailingly and magically nurse back to their former cuteness, and would most definitely make them legitimate members of the family, enjoying the same privileges and rights as that of the rest of us.

But there was something in the hoarse, warble-ridden voice at the other end of the line which tells that Sonia’s departure that afternoon was unlike any of her previous ones. There was this frightening hunch in me which says that she has finally left for good. It was this finitude and permanence of that afternoon departure of hers, as what was coldly relayed to me, that finally froze me on my tracks. There’s no way one can shield himself from the suddenness of it all…she already took off with her one-way ticket to heaven.

Haste has always characterized her many journeys and escapades…got married when she was barely in her 20’s, gave birth to me on the first week of Advent of 1975, less than a year after the wedding; impromptu picnics at the nearby Luneta, her many trips to the seminary, often in her house dress and non-pair of footwear for my weekly allowance and fresh clothes. That Holy Thursday, hours before she left, she first attended to a dozen of things like she has always done: wake up early morning and do the laundry, prepare breakfast for the family, feed her four-legged children and a couple of ducks, go to the market, cook lunch, spare a dish for that old widower who lives beside our house, set the table, laughed hard with tatay and my siblings, a glass of water…and she’s gone.

As always, she has to go in a hurry…that afternoon, she doesn’t want to be late, because it will be her first Mass of the Lord’s Supper in Heaven!

THE WORK OF EASTER CONTINUES...(2nd Sunday)

...So an ever increasing number of men and women, believed in the Lord...(Acts 5:12-16)

Conversions followed the Easter proclamation. Thus reported the account in the Acts of the Apostles. We have just celebrated the holiest of our festivals. We have just celebrated the Holy Pascha of Our Lord's Suffering, Death and Glorious Resurrection. We are still in the great season of the Lord's Rising to new life. The mission of Easter continues.

But needless to say, our Easter can only be authentic if it indeed echoes that which our forebears experienced and witnessed, that is, the conversion of a multitude of new believers, which added up to the numbers of those who believed in the Lord after they have heard of the Gospels and saw for themselves how the Christians conducted their lives. We need what our ancestors in the faith have had in their midst. We need to relive amongst us the heart of the Easter proclamation.

Three things describe what true Easter means:

Easter is about being at PEACE with the Lord and with one another. It speaks of complete and genuine reconciliation with God and with our fellow;

Easter is about being SENT by the Lord; it is about receiving the mandate from the risen One, to proclaim the Good News to all the world, the Good News of His love and mercy, the Good News of his saving work;

Easter is about being at the SERVICE of our brothers and sisters in the name of the Lord. It is about doing what Jesus did to others; it is about sharing what Jesus shared with others; it is about establishing friendships with our neighbors the way Jesus befriended and loved his.

Easter witnessing is my being at PEACE and RECONCILED with the Lord; it is about my being SENT by Him to bring Good News to all; it is about dedicating myself to the SERVICE of my brethren just as Jesus did. It is through this new way of living that the church can indeed experience the influx of "an ever increasing number of men and women" who discover this intense love for God and for neighbor.

EASTER IS BEING AT PEACE!

EASTER IS BEING SENT!

EASTER IS BEING AT THE SERVICE OF MY SISTERS AND BROTHERS!

FOR AS LONG AS THERE ARE STILL THOSE WHO HAVE NEVER HEARD OF JESUS NOR HIS RISING TO NEW LIFE, OUR JOB AS EASTER PEOPLES'S NOT DONE YET; FOR AS LONG AS THERE ARE IN OUR FAMILIES, IN OUR COMMUNITIES, IN THE MARKETPLACE AND ELSEWHERE, THOSE WHO ARE YET TO MEET AND EXPERIENCE JESUS, THE WORK OF EASTER CONTINUES...

Hey, It's Easter!

Sunday morning. Children laughing and playing and running about…it’s Easter!

Old men and women in their Sunday best, Father Parish Priest is watching from his terrace, coffee in one hand, waving the other…it’s Easter!

Even the resident dog is extra friendly this time around, total strangers smile at one another like they are the best of friends…it’s Easter!

No trace of last Friday’s gore can be found on anyone, no dint of wailing and the requisite lamentations, there’s only joy and warmth and ice-cold lemonade for everyone…it’s Easter!

It seems for a while that the world has always been like this. It feels so new, so fresh, so pure and pristine…perhaps it really was…perhaps it really is meant to be this way…it’s Easter!

From this Sunday on, I shall not anymore look at every empty plot, pot, nook, box…even niche and cave the same way again. Something’s been there. Somebody’s been there…only they cannot contain it for long, only they could not detain him for long…it’s Easter!

An upturned rock would from now on be for me a symbol of tyranny disarmed, of false delights gone stale, of darkness washed with the bright rays of a new dawn, of stains made clean, of sins forgiven, of death itself consigned to its pitiful demise…it’s Easter!

TAHIMIK NA BIYERNES

Tahimik ang pasimula ng liturhiya natin sa gabing ito. Walang entrance hymn, walang musika; may takip ang mga larawan at poon; walang sapin ang altar, walang kandila, walang bulaklak, walang kahit anong dekorasyon. Walang imik ang langit, walang imik ang mundo, walang imik sino man sa atin…tahimik, walang masabi, walang kibo, walang ibang maaaring gawin…kundi ang sumamba ng tahimik!
Bakit tayo tahimik? Bakit tayo walang imik? Bakit tayo tulala sa harap ng Krus?

TAHIMIK TAYONG LAHAT, TAHIMIK ANG KALANGITAN, TAHIMIK ANG SANLIBUTAN, TAHIMIK ANG KAPALIGIRAN, DAHIL SA HARAP NG KRUS NI KRISTO…NAROROON NA ANG LAHAT-LAHAT!

NAROROON NA ANG KASAGUTAN! NAROROON NA ANG LAHAT NG ATING KAILANGAN! ANG MGA HINAHANAP NATING SAGOT SA LAHAT NG ATING MGA KAKULITAN AT MGA KATANUNGAN! NAROROON NA ANG ATING MGA ALITAN, SAMAAN NG LOOB, SUMBATAN, LAMANGAN; NAROROON NA ANG ATING MGA KASALANAN, NAROROON NA ANG ATING KAMATAYAN…LAHAT-LAHAT, WALANG TINIRA, WALANG NAKALIGTAAN…NAROROON NA’T NAKAPAKO NANG LAHAT SA KRUS!

Sa gabing ito ay tahimik ang lahat sa langit at sa lupa dahil walang sino man sa atin ang may karapatang magsalita, manumbat, dumaing, humiyaw, mang-husga, gumanti, mag-hari, maging Panginoon at magpakita ng kapangyarihan kundi ang Diyos na itinakwil, tinraydor, itrinatong kriminal, at ipinako sa krus!

SA GABING ITO AY WALANG IBANG MAY KARAPATANG MAGSALITA KUNDI ANG NAKAPAKO LANG SA KRUS!

Ngunit tignan nating mabuti, makinig tayong mabuti, mapapansin natin…wala din siyang imik. Siya rin ay tahimik. Walang pang-huhusga, walang galit, walang pait, walang ngawa. Mayroon lamang nag-uumapaw na awa. Ang kaniyang dapat sabihin, kanya na lamang ipinakita sa gawa…

Masdan natin ang Krus na Banal. Sambahin natin si Kristong nasugatan. Pakinggan natin ang sinasabi ng matahimik niyang gawa…

MAHAL NA MAHAL KO KAYO! GUSTO KO, MABUHAY KAYO! GUSTO KO, MASAYA KAYONG LAGI! GUSTO KO’Y MALAYA KAYONG UMIBIG, MAGPATAWAD, MAGLINGKOD, MAGING TAPAT, MAGING MABUTI, MAGING GANAP, MAGING MASIGLA AT BUHAY NA BUHAY!

IPINAKO KO NA SA KRUS ANG LAHAT NG INYONG MGA KRUS! Inako ko na sa Krus ang lahat ng inyong mga kalaswaan upang hindi n’yo na salaulain at saktan ang bawat isa! Inako ko na sa Krus ang lahat ng inyong kasuwapangan, upang ‘di n’yo na pagdamutan at pagkaitan ng biyaya ang isa’t-isa. Inako ko na sa Krus ang lahat ng inyong galit at poot, upang hindi n’yo na saktan at paulit-ulit na gantihan at lamangan ang bawat isa. Inako ko na sa Krus ang lahat ng inyong kahinaan, upang hindi n’yo na gamitin ang mga ito bilang palusot at dahilan sa hindi ninyo paglilingkod sa bawat isa.

INAKO KO NA ANG LAHAT NG INYONG KASALANAN AT KAMATAYN SA KRUS, UPANG MAGING MALAYA NA KAYO NA KAYO SA BANGIS NG MGA ITO, UPANG HINDI NA KAYO PAULIT-ULIT PANG IPAKO AT IBAGSAK AT PARUSAHAN NG MGA ITO. INAKO KO NA ANG LAHAT NG MGA ITO, SINAID KO NA ANG LAHAT NG PWEDE NINYONG IKATWIRAN AT IDAHILAN UPANG HINDI SUMUNOD SA AKIN, UPANG LUMAYO SA AKIN, UPANG HINDI TUMULAD SA AKING HALIMBAWA, UPANG MAGTAKWIL SA AKIN, UPANG MAGDUDA SA AKIN, UPANG HINDI MAGTIWALA SA AKIN, UPANG TUMALIKOD SA AKIN.

INAKO KO NA ANG LAHAT NG MGA ITO SA KRUS NG PAG-IBIG KO SA BAWAT ISA SA INYO, UPANG MAGING MALUWAG NA PARA SA INYO ANG DAAN PATUNGO SA AKING TAHANAN, UPANG MAGING MALAYA NA KAYO SA PAGKAALIPIN, UPANG ‘DI NA KAYO MULING MATAKOT AT PANGHINAAN NG LOOB SA PAGMAMALASAKITAN, SA PAGPAPATAWARAN, SA PAGLILINGKURAN, SA PAG-IIBIGAN!

INAKO KO NA ANG INYONG KAMATAYAN AT KAPARUSAHAN SA KRUS…NANG ANG MATIRA NA LAMANG AY ANG INYONG KALUWALHATIAN AT BUHAY NA WALANG-HANGGAN!

P.S.

Paki bulong na lang sa akin kung mayroon pa akong nakaligtaan…

NAME IT...I NAILED IT...

Name it…I Nailed It…

Violence, crime, greed, sufferings…name it, I nailed it! Gore, smut, envy, lust…name it, I nailed it! Anything else you haven’t yet tried? Anything else you want to indulge in? Name it, I nailed it!

Can there still be something more pornographic than my raw and open body dangling on a tree? Can there still be something more repulsive than my taut and beaten trunk? Can there still be any wound, or stripe, or bruise, or lesion un-opened; or insult, or mockery, or abuse unspoken? Name it, I nailed it!

O yes I did, I already nailed ‘em all! For I cannot bear any minute longer, the many times you inflict any or all of these, especially to the least of your brethren. I already nailed ‘em all, so that you’ll not anymore harm and hurt each other. I already nailed ‘em all, that they may not anymore cast their curse upon you. I love you! I want you! I created you exclusively for my pleasure and love! All I have is yours! All that you are is a treasure in my eyes! Every one of you is precious to me! My life is all yours, my death, your resurrection!

Come now to the festival! Come now to your home! I already nailed on the blessed cross all your deaths, and passions and failures, there to remain forever maimed and rendered inutile. All these I already nailed on the shameful beam of hate, that you may already be free, and loving and holy! I already nailed 'em all on the tree, that you may already stop fighting, and begin to be forgiving; that you may already stop crying, and begin to be rejoicing; that you may already stop dying, and begin to be happily living...!

MITING DE ABANSE NG PARTIDO HUGAS-PAA

Miyerkules Santo, bisperas ng Paskwa, miting de abanse ng Partido Hugas Paa…

Dalawang partido ang maigting na magkatunggali sa labanan ng kuwaresma: PARTIDO HUGAS-KAMAY at PARTIDO HUGAS-PAA.

PARTIDO HUGAS-KAMAY: Katipunan ng mga duwag, lupon ng mga taong takot masangkot sa mabuti, tama at totoo. Ang partido hugas-kamay ay pinamumunuan ni Pilato. Pero walang listahan ng pangalan ng mga kasapi nito. Walang gustong lumantad, walang gustong magpakilala. Lahat ay takot. Lahat ay bahag ang buntot. Ni sa kanilang samahan ay ‘di rin sila nagkaka-isa. Kanya-kanyang pulas sa oras ng peligro kumbaga. Mahilig lang sa palabas, sa palakpak, sa kaina’t kasiyahan. Maibigin sa mga ritwal at seremonyas, ampaw ang kalooban. Palahingi ng biyaya, pala-iwas sa pananagutan. Hindi maaasahan sa oras ng pangangailangan. Takot sa hirap, takot sa Krus, takot mawalan ng buhay sa ikabubuhay ng kapwa.

PARTIDO HUGAS-PAA: Si Kristo ang pasimuno ng partidong ito. Lupon ng mga taong matapang, masigasig, malalim at bayani. Hindi takot magpakumbaba dahil busog ang loob sa pag-ibig at awa ng Diyos. Mapagparaya sa iba, mapag-tanggi sa karangalan. Lantad ang pangalan. Hindi nangingiming ipangalandakan na Diyos lamang ang kanilang tanggulan, hindi nakikipagtaguan sa oras ng pangangailangan. Buo ang loob sa pamamalita ng kabutihan, malinis ang puso sa pagdadamayan. Iisa kung kumilos sa kapakanan ng bayan. Walang kinatatakutan sa larangan ng paglilingkod, sukdulang mag-alay ng kani-kaniyang buhay.

Miting de Abanse ng Partido Hugas-Paa. Ipinararating sa lahat ang masayang paanyaya! Sa Huwebes Santo, may pahapunan sa senakulo, doon gaganapin ang paghuhugas ng paa; sa Biyernes Santo, halina’t samahan si Hesus sa bundok ng Kalbaryo, kung saan ipapako ang tiyak na pagkapanalo…at sa Sabado naman ng hapon, sa presinto ng kweba tayo’y magtanod, sapagkat tiyak na ang tagumpay ng pagkabuhay sa linggo!

MIYERKULES SANTO, MIYERKULES NG PASASALAMAT

Blessing upon blessing has been coming my way these past few weeks. After months of anxiety and uncertainty, I was luckily issued my first US visa, 10-year multiple entry at first try. This is significant and especially precious for me since this means that I can finally get to fulfill a life-long dream of studying iconography in a real Orthodox Skete, under the watch of an authentic iconographer-monk, wherever there would be an opportunity.

Things are turning out relatively well with my other equally pressing and difficult life decisions. I was finally able to talk to my bishop about future plans in my ministry and life as a priest and we have come to a cordial agreement. He was remarkably solicitous and fatherly in that particular colloquium that we have had and I am very grateful for it. There was simply an excess of warmth and welcome all around me. I can only attribute all these to the loving mercy of Our Blessed Savior.

But attendant to this outpouring of blessings are the many side-glitches and emerging complications that I really do not find that formidable, but are nonetheless, providing me still the same with plenty of reasons to be humbler and more courageous. Let’s just say that these road side humps are paving my way with the necessary abrasives if only to purify and smoothen my journey some more.

Consolations and desolations, triumphs and trials, truly come in pairs. If anything, this parallel emergence of challenges to my train of God-given favors only serves to make me more thankful to the Lord for all the good things he’s indulging me with.

DEO GRATIAS!

LAETARE

The last of the mass goers
Walked past the creaking metal jamb
Of the half closed church door…

Then it began,the quietest time,
I say the most solemn,
In a typical Sunday’s basket
Of rituals and mishaps
And seemingly endless stats
Of bobbing heads in dreamland.

With only the faint smell
Of dying, stringed jasmines wafting through stolid air
As my faithful companion, I dare
To unearth the joy I thought I saw
In the faces of this midday’s crowd
From deep within my well,
I can tell
I can't!

And I’m afraid
That not even a thousand strikes
From the staff of blessed Moses
Can wring a few drops
Nor wet my dog-like nose’s
Probe into this heart that’s tired and cold.

And so proceeds my second vespers
Of cries and longings no one hears
Save him who sits with me through this,
The one who called me brother.

VIERNES SANTO

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SABADO DE GLORIA

‘Sing lamig ng pusod ng kwebang madilim
Ang umagang tumambad sa puyat na himlayan
Pati na mga kwago at bayakang maitim
Tila kulang sa idlip, nabulabog ng lagim

Ang maalat na luha’y ‘di tuluyang lumagpak
Sa halip naglambitin sa mga daho’t sanga
Pigil din ang paghuni ng kilyawan at maya
Nabahiran ng uling ang puti ng tagak

Bingi pa ang tainga sa bugbog ng kahapon
Sa nagsalong hinagpis at insultong malutong
Ng masiba at lulong na balanang hayok
At matalas na koronang sa bumbunan pinutong

Napuknat ng mainam ang telon ng trahedya
Nilugami’t binulid ang hungkag na dangal
Tumambad pagkapunit makinang na salamin
Nagbunyag sa larawan ng agnas na pithaya

At wala na sa hiram na puntod ang poon
Ni sa yungib, o dagat, o bundok na matayog
Ni sa kahoy, o bakal, o telang balumbon
Hayun na at ang araw ang liwanag nagsabog!

DOMINGO DE RAMOS

Kakikitil na palapang
Manilaw-nilaw, murang berde
Kasamang ibibigkis, ibi-byahe
Ng libong mga sibol
Sa tirintasan sa palengke

Katulad din lamang nung nagdaang taon
At mga daang taong una
Linggo na naman bukas
Ng maingay na palaspas
Alulunga’t palakpakan
Ng papuring agad lumilipas

Pula ang balabal ng paring matangkad
Hahawi sa kulapol ng madlang matingkad
Tungkod ang matibay na baong pag-asa
Na bukas paggising ay ‘di mag-iisang
Wawalis sa nagsabog na makintab na pabalat
Ng hungkag na dalangin
At pagsambang huwad

VIERNES DE DOLORES (biernes bago mag linggo ng palaspas)

Bakit ‘ika mo ikaw nga ba ang Diyos?
Ba’t bitak ang talampakan
Na ‘di nasasapnan?
At ang kamay na lumikha
Ng kabundukan at dagat
Sa balikat ng puta
Ay iyong nilalapat

‘di yata’t malabis, sagana’ng pagtangis
Ang iyong hinagpis sa gusgusing palaboy
Malakas namang tawa
Kay inam na dighay
Kapag kasalo ay tambay
At walang magawa sa buhay

Ay aba naman kung ikaw nga ang Kristo
Karungisan sa puri
Ng pili naming lahi
Anong pitagan, anong uring karangalan
Ang ibabahid mo naman sa banal naming bayan?

Kalapastanganang malaki ang isipin man lamang
Na balot ng basahan Diyos naming inaasahan
Tanggula’t kakampi, saganang magpaani
‘di tulad mong api at lusak ang lipi!

Ika’y Diyos na dakila ng lumpo at alila
Maalam na guro ng mga umid ang dila
Tinik na sagana ang putong mong sadya
Kahoy na kahiya-hiya ang luklukan mong mutya!

Genio's Ice Cream and Paper Chickens-Memories of a Year-Old Fiesta (Pistang Bayan ng Balanga 2009)

A week from now, Balanga would again be celebrating the first of its two town fiestas (March 19, Entrance of Saint Joseph into Heaven; April 28, Pistang Bayan). As the former always fall during the penitential season of Lent, no overtly gaudy and noisy activity ensues save for the solemn and beautiful procession of the tableaus of the key events in the life of St. Joseph (from the visitation of the Archangel Gabriel in his dream to his dying moments in the company, presumably, of Our Lord and the Blessed Mother).

Of the two, it is the Pistang Bayan which has left a greater impact in my repository of delightful experiences. Here's an account I have written almost a year ago of what I have seen, heard and tasted of last year's celebrations:

It was a surprisingly sober celebration for a provincial poblacion, save for what seemed like a dozen brass bands snaking through their respective baranggay’s streets since yesterday, the fiesta eve. The happy confusion of brass music and tangled traffic of tricycles and pedestrians culminated last night with the traditional serenata at the city plaza in front of the cathedral.

I always loved brass bands. I even got CDs of the more celebrated ones that I kept on playing on just about every occasion in the parishes I once served. Still, a dozen of them is not impressive enough. I grew up waking to the sound of rampaging brass bands, the really mighty ones, every 9th of January. They start marching through the then relatively safer and cleaner Elizondo neighborhood from Plaza Miranda at around 4 a.m., and would not have yet reached the end of the parade ‘til about 10.30 or 11. There were usually around 80 to a hundred and fifty of them, especially during Quiapo’s more prosperous days. Each of the band would be preceded by factory or bakery workers of some Chinese devotees of our beloved Nuestro Padre Jesus Nazareno, hoisting giant lanterns and effigies that advertise their wares. My personal favorite was this really humongous, feathered, paper chicken atop an equally enormous nest of half-cracked paper mache eggs, some of which have even had yellow, felt chicks peering through the cracks. The name of the Chinese poultry-and-eggs supplier now escapes my already rusty memory. But I could still vividly see in my mind the giant, bloated Leg-horn bobbing its wobbly head over the spectators. Another was Excellente Ham’s miniature of Quiapo church’s façade, complete with a real, wooden image of the Nazareno atop the canopy of the mock main portal. Even then, just looking at that faux church model already kept my young mind busy as to how such a beauty could have possibly been created out of egg cartons and some white Styrofoam and cartolina.

Back at the Bahay Pari, I went home early after concelebrating at the pontifical mass. I had Menudo, Embutido, and Kare-Kare for lunch, plus a hefty serving of Genio’s ice cream – a local favorite in Balanga. Two flavors only. Ube, which tastes great but feels rough on the palate, more like crumbly, boiled taro tinted pale violet, and Macapuno, which also tastes satisfyingly rich and milky, but really seems more like, well, crumbly, boiled taro, un-tinted. Sister Luth insisted that I drink the glass of cold, milk-infused Melon Tagalog juice that she saved for me but I am not really a big fan of Honey Dew. I’d rather have my 500ml, ice-cold Coke regular wash down my fiesta indulgences…really makes you burp in quicker succession and provides that intensely satisfying feeling of being stuffed and very happy at the same time. It’s already 9:52 p.m. as I write this and I am still burping!

WHO WOULDN'T? - 2nd Sunday of Lent

“Honey, there’s no easy answer that will take your pain away. Believe me, if I had one, I’d use it now. I have no magic wand to wave over you and make it all better. Life takes a bit of time and a lot of relationship.”

“Mackenzie, the truth shall set you free and the truth has a name; he’s over in the woodshop right now covered in sawdust…”

-Papa “Elousia” to Mackenzie, The Shack


What transpired for only a few fleeting minutes that glorious afternoon seemed like years for the awestruck disciples. In fact, it not only felt like it would go on forever, it evoked sentiments of wanting to linger there on that blessed spot for all eternity. “Master, how good it is for us to be here for we can make three tents” says the dumbfounded Peter.

And who wouldn’t pray the same? Who wouldn’t beg the Lord a little more time when everything seems fine and time is running short? Who wouldn’t wish things would remain the same forever when one is able to fulfill his Sunday duties, and consistently assuage the pangs of his self-indulgence-induced guilt by always having a few loose change handy for the occasional beggar and every god-forsaken-ragamuffin who virtually thrives at the doorsteps of every church because business is good and health even better? Who wouldn’t cheerfully albeit mindlessly declare to Jesus: “how good it is for us to be here?”

But the Master’s way is the way of the cross. His wounds are our healing, his passion, our safekeeping. His glory lies not in the feverish swaying of palm branches and the roaring hosannas. His kingdom was not inaugurated on that hill where bread and fish have flowed aplenty. His dominion will not forever consist in an endless stroll atop bodies of water, there where clueless people imagine they would be engaged by him in an eternal game of storm-bashing and wave-halting sprees. It would definitely not be a one, big Shot Put game of mountain hurling and geographical rearranging. His kingdom is not of this world. His glory is His cross.

And so it shall be for his disciples. And so it shall also be for each one of us. He came not to wave the magic wand over us in order to banish our every ailment. He came to journey with us. He came to suffer with us, in us, for us. He came that we may have a friend that would be willing to go through it all with us, so that we may not lose our way and make it safely back home.

QUIT THE PIG-SLOP, GO FOR THE ROASTED CALF! (1st Sunday of Lent)

OUR FATHER…

How wonderfully clear, how new this age-old attribute God himself wants us to use for him sounds, how refreshing, how transforming!

He doesn’t want to be regarded by us as some Automated Teller Machine of heaven, ready to churn out goodies at every push of the button. He is not the God who watches over us from some distant abode way up in the clouds. He is Our Father! And being our father, he is far greater than all the marvelous and insanely generous philanthropists combined, far more generous than the most generous of benefactors, far more loving than the most passionate of lovers, far more powerful an ally than the most powerful of this earth’s potentates.

We need not bribe nor cajole him into giving in to our petty concerns and wants. We don’t have to act like some hungry dogs at the table of the master. We need not be jealous of one another, always competing for the Lord’s attention as if it means anything sensible to him nor to any of us at all. In Jesus Christ, God revealed to us the secret of heaven. And this is none other than the realization that we are God’s beloved children. Heaven is simply living in the fatherly embrace of God. Heaven is being into a loving relationship with the father. Heaven is knowing, experiencing and enjoying that we are truly God’s children in every sense of the word.

To have God as our father is to not be afraid to be thoroughly known by him. To have God as our father means that we are always being taken care of; that we need not be terrified to make those clumsy, little baby steps in life knowing full well that for our every tiny stride loom those enormous ones by this loving father who goes ahead of us every step of the way.

To have God as our father is to be not too consumed with not knowing where to find food for the next day. To have him as our father is to not be afraid to stand up after each fall. It means not being hesitant in freely loving others as a sister or brother. To have him as our father is to always be comforted with the assurance that we are immensely loved no matter the gravity of our greatest sins nor the depth of our stupidity and selfish pursuits. To have him as our father is to be not afraid to say sorry for our sins knowing that he has already forgiven us a hundred times over before we even make the first move.

TO HAVE GOD AS OUR FATHER IS TO HEAR HIS INVITATION FOR US TO STOP HELPING OURSELVES FROM THE PIG-SLOP AND START RUNNING TOWARDS HIS WELL-LIT HOME; THERE WHERE A ROASTED, FATTENED CALF AND A GOLDEN RING AWAIT US.

To have God as our father is to be in need of nothing else…He being completely, totally ours, and we being completely, totally his as well.This is the reality we ought to be thankful for. This is the resounding victory that Christ Our Lord has thrice declared over Satan in the wilderness. This is Jesus' gift for us at the beginning of our Lenten journey!

Fat Tuesday Thoughts: Mardi Gras 1

This day is Mardi Gras, Tuesday before Ash Wednesday. In many places, especially in Rio de Janeiro in Brazil and New Orleans in USA, there will again be lavish parades and sensuous display of sweat-soaked bodies and gyrating dancers on huge, colorful and expensive floats greeting carousing revelers that line up the streets. There would again be partying and overflow of drinks and feastings, and indulgences of every kind and persuasion. The whole affair could appear at first as just some kind of harmless fun. Down with the prudes organizers and fans would even say.

But what does Mardi Gras really mean for us? Why of all the other days in the year would we choose the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday to hold such revelry when we practically have the whole year for our feasts and banquets?

To merely think of Mardi Gras this way is to completely miss the point. To regard Mardi Gras in this manner is to further impoverish our minds and hearts.

Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday for us is not simply a day of unabated intoxications. It something else; it is something more. It is an opportunity for us to sit down for a while in silence and see just how much we have fattened ourselves with all manners of selfish pursuits, and emaciate ourselves in the process by being deprived of the real source of our nourishment. Fat Tuesday is an indictment at how we have fattened ourselves to be sacrificed on the altars of our idols and false gods, only to realize later the absurdity and tragedy of it all. Fat Tuesday is an expose of the sham comforts and fleeting satisfaction that the world dangles to our senses. Fat Tuesday is about spiritual junk food overload alert. Fat Tuesday is a wakeup call.

Louder than the groans of the glutton’s stomach, shriller than the shrieks of the most seasoned epicurean party animal, Fat Tuesday’s reminder rouses us from our apathy and laziness today, and invites, nay, challenges us to read the label on the packages of our daily fare and see if we truly are getting the real deal at spiritually healthy living.