encore: ANG MAHIWAGANG BAG (para kay SONIA at lahat ng mga NANAY namin sa LANGIT at sa LUPA)

Para itong botika, maraming lamang gamot (Biogesic pang sakit ng ulo at sinat, Diatabs pag nagtatae, Neozep pag humahaching, Mefanamic Acid pag masakit ang ipin). Meron ding Vicks, White Flower, Tiger Balm, Shampoo, toothpaste, pamahid na kung anu-ano at sabon.

Para itong beauty parlor, maraming kolorete (may make-up kit, lip gloss, lip balm, lip stick, cologne, eye shadow, eye liner, Eye-Mo, rollers, nail cutters at polvo).

Para itong sari-sari store (may kendi, chicklet, polvoron, mamon, Cheepy, minsan ay mayroon ding lighter at yosi, posporo at isang tambak na mga resibo, suki card, discount coupons at listahan ng pamalengke).

Para itong tool box (may gunting na de tiklop, screw driver, blade, perdible, paper clip, maliit na stapler, flash light at mga butones na extra).

Kasya rito ang maraming bagay. Walang 'di matatagpuan dito na 'di makakatulong kahit kanino, kahit saan, kahit anung oras. Sagot ito sa lahat ng kirot at angal at prublema ng lahat.

Ito ang bag ni nanay.

Ito ang kanyang buhay.

Parang isang mahiwagang bag.

Para ito sa ating lahat.

Bitbit n'ya ito palagi. Bawal masagi. Walang paki-alam kung nakakasagi. Napakahalagang katabi n'ya ito palagi. Parang bunsong kinakalong sa jeep; parang amigang ka-chismisan na may sariling upuan pag nasa restawran.

Pag dating ng hapon, pag uuwi na ng bahay, ang mahiwagang bag ay nagiging unan ni nanay. Dinarantayan ng ulo habang nakasiksik sa FX o bus o tren at duo'y saglit na inihihimlay ang pagod ng maghapon.

Ito ang bag ni nanay.

Ito ang kanyang buhay.

Mabigat ang bag ni nanay.

dala-dala nito ang ating buhay.

Tignan mo ang mukha ng nanay mo. 'wag mo na lang pansinin ang mga eye bags n'ya na minsan ay halos kasing laki na rin at kasimbigat ng mahiwagang bag na dala dala n'ya araw araw.

Tignan mo ang magandang mukha ng iyong nanay at sabihin mo sa kanya:
IKAW ANG PINAKAMAGANDANG NANAY SA BALAT NG.........(your address here)!
BIYAYA KA NG DIYOS SA AMING BUHAY! DALA MO SA BAG MO ANG AMING MGA BUHAY! PINASASALAMATAN NAMIN ANG DIYOS DAHIL IKAW ANG AMING NANAY!
MAHAL NA MAHAL KA NAMIN NANAY!

ANASTASIS (A Mid-Easter Octave Reflection on the Mystery of Christ's Descent into Hell)

Easter Monday morning, a quick trip back to my bed after the morning Mass. This was a time I intended for some extended stay under the sheets, air-conditioner in full blast, in a thoroughly darkened room. My plan immediately failed as I was rudely awakened by a frantic call from the guard post, the voice at the other end panting and garbled, as he cautiously asked if I could attend to a very urgent request from some Baranggay officials to bless, according to them, a lifeless, fully developed fetus they have unearthed from beneath the neighborhood garbage heap at 14th avenue. Grudgingly, I dressed up and hurried to the site where they have placed the lifeless, little angel, only to be met by a most revolting sight: it was not just a fully-developed fetus as they have reported just a short while back. It was a tiny human being, which by the time I saw it, was already bluish-green, the color of bile, carelessly wrapped with a dirty, brown, striped t-shirt, with a dotted, Navy Blue handkerchief tightly wound around the baby's delicate and fragile neck. By the looks of it, the infant seems to have undeniably died of strangulation a few hours after its birth, most probably, during midnight of the previous day.

I was simply stunned and paralyzed where I was standing. But I have to summon enough courage to overcome my revulsion and lead everyone in that hall into an anguished plea to God for mercy and aid for the hapless victim, as well as a cry to bring to justice those who might be responsible for the atrocity.

Early morning of Tuesday I was at Precinto Uno in del Pan, Tondo, celebrating Mass right inside the decrepit jail, with about fifty inmates, half of them juvenile and underage, and a handful of police officers who don't seem to pay attention at all to what I and the three Missionary of Charity sisters where doing. The jail house reeks of a most disgusting combination of rotten food, foul-smelling, unwashed and sweaty bodies, and urine. The air inside, stale and humid. It requires a great deal of effort even just to be able to breathe. Here in this hellish quarters I found myself offering the Holy Liturgy for Tuesday within the Easter Octave.

A murdered infant and an infernal jail, two glimpses of the many faces of hell in our midst. I found myself, unworthy as I am, to be a carrier, though a bit reluctant, of the great and redeeming news of Christ's Resurrection even to these two instances of human depravity. "He descended into hell..." confesses the Apostles' Creed. Christ did not only rise from the dead. He did not only brake open the tomb. Our Faith teaches that the Blessed Savior descended even to the depths of hades and destroyed its vile doors, leading those who had been held in bondage by sin and death into the fullness of redemption.

Christ the Risen King did enter hell! He did so not to be overcome by it but to annihilate it and render it powerless and inutile! His descent into hell is a declaration that He ALONE is King and Lord; that the merit and accomplishment of His Most Glorious Passion, Death and Triumphant Resurrection know no bounds nor limits.

The Harrowing of Hell is an essential element in the Holy Mystery of Easter. To put faith in it is to allow one's hell, bondage, sinfulness and many deaths to be totally transformed, renewed, and redeemed by the Resurrected Christ. Easter is never merely a historical event that happened more than a couple of millenia ago. It is just as importantly about the Risen Lord saving me, freeing me, forgiving me, resurrecting me, healing me of all my infirmities, empowering me, rejuvenating me, giving birth to me anew and recreating me from the shards of my conquered, former, sinful self, in the here and now of my present existence. The Great Easter Message must therefore be equally proclaimed in the Exultet of the sanctuary as well as in the seedy nooks and crannies of public halls and local jails.

Easter is not just about Christ Jesus transporting me to the great heights of His Glory; it is also about His plunging into the depths of my degeneracy, in order to lift me up and rescue me from death and damnation.

315 Elizondo St...(Quiapo Series VII)

"Tulog pa" alok sa 'kin ng nanay kong namamalantsa, ng ako'y magitla mula sa malalim na pagkakatulog maraming-maraming hapon na ang nakararaan. Mga alas tres-y-media iyon ng hapon. Malawak na asul ang langit.Wala kasing ulap. Nakapapaso ang init ng nangangalit na araw sa labas ng bahay. Ngunit hindi sa loob. Sapagkat malilim, nakanganga ang mga bintanang tila may sariling dunong at alam kung sino o ano ang patutuluyin at hindi. At tanging hanging-ligaw lang ang nakapaglalabas-masok sa kanila at hindi ang alinsangan ng kalsada. Hindi ko na nakuhang balikan ang iniwan kong himbing at pang-tanghaling panaginip tungkol sa matayog kong paglipad at pagpapalundag-lundag sa nagpipintugan at naglalambutang bulak na ulap. Dahil bago ko pa naipikit ang mugto ko pang mga mata, ay tuluyan na akong natigatig ng pag kring-kring ng magbibinatog na lumiligid na sa aming lugar, ang kuliling ng sorbetero, ang potpot ng naglalako ng puto't kuchinta, at ang iba sari-saring tunog at ingay at sigaw ng maglalako at tindera ng nagparadang milindal.

Ngunit ang pinakamahirap tanggihan sa lahat ay ang malalakas na tilian at hagikhikan ng mga kalaro kong nagsi-gisingan na ring lahat, at masigla nang naghahabulan, nag-aagawan ng bola, nagsisipag-businahan ng mga kotseng gawa sa mga lumang kahon ng gatas at sigarilyo. Ang nagsanib na tinig at tunog na ito'y lubhang napakahirap tiisin at 'di mapansin. Sila'y tila nagkaka-isa sa pagsasabing: " halika na, baba na, labas na ng bahay, inaantay ka na namin, kailangan ng patotot sa patintero, kulang pa ng isa ang putbol, ang tumbang preso, ang giyera ng sumpit, habulan at taguan..."

Hindi ko na matandaan ngayon kung natulog ba ako uli o hindi ng alukin ako noon ng nanay ko maraming hapon na ang nakararaan. Pero ngayon, kapag ako'y paminsan-minsang napapadaan sa kalye kung saan kami dati nakatira, ako'y palagi nang naliligaw. Ang mga kalsadang palaruan namin noo'y masukal, marumi at maamoy na ngayon. Nahahanayan na ng mga nanglilimahid na mga tabla, bilao, kariton at sako ng mga piniratang DVD, ng mga tindero at tinderang hindi ko na kilala, at lalong nakakatakot at nakakakaba dahil 'di ko na rin kilala o maintindihan ang gamit nilang salita. Sa mga pagkakataong ito'y 'di ko maiwasang isipin na kung ano nga kaya't sinunod ko na lang sana noon ang malumanay na paanyayang muling humimlay, at ipagpatuloy ang pakikipag-harutan sa mga nagpipintugang mga ulap ng aking panaginip? At gigising na lamang uli, kapag bumalik na ang pinananabikang pagkuliling, ng mga maglalako ng busog at sigla ng aking pagkabata...

Confessions of a Confessor

A counsel I just gave to a penitent earlier this afternoon at the confessional boomeranged to me concerning a most vital reality in the life of the taong-grasa : "what one cannot draw out of the meagerness of his resources, he can compensate and bless others with from out of the abundance of his heart." A humbling thought that jabbed right through my core. One that caught me off-guard. A realization that filled me with remorse as I had been reminded of how I would sometimes find myself occasionally besieged with self-pity, insecurity or even foolish anxiety at the onset of a material want, or whenever I would happen to compare my apparent lack with the other's bounty. I realized this is none other than my vocation staring me at the face.I have no need nor have any reason to be mortified whenever my deliberate choice to be poor makes its stark presence felt. Instead, I must rejoice at all times, but most especially in moments that I cannot boast of anything materially or spiritually, when I am most empty, handicapped and of no import whatsoever. For it is during these moments that I am most dependent on Divine Providence. It is during these times that all that I could offer the other is solidarity and presence. The assurance that I am with him in his want and helplessness; that we are fellow beggars and are both at the mercy of God's and others' magnanimity and generosity. And it is in this predicament that I cannot be other than humble and grateful before God and man.

It is for this reason that I should always be keeping guard of my heart more than anything else. The most important task of a taong-grasa is to maintain the treasures of his heart which are kindness, compassion and mercy. These alone can make him of any worth in being a slave of the Gospel.

Nemo dat quid non habet. One cannot give what one doesn't have. One who does not have even an ounce of kindness, compassion nor mercy, cannot possibly be kind, compassionate nor merciful to others. And these three do not just magically grow from within anyone. They must be planted. They must be had. They can only come from the providential hands of God through prayer, mortification and sacrifice. One can only draw kindness, compassion and mercy from his own wretched state if he himself constantly experience being redeemed and enriched by the kindness, compassion and mercy of the Holy Savior.

The Great Great Grandfathers of Bloggers...

Bloggers were invented ca.300 AD, and were originally called "monks." Like their distant (sic)descendents, monks had shitty haircuts, and never got laid...

(ripped from the blog of a Russian blogger who purloined it first from someone else's. a good laugh for a busy weekend!)

The "Askal" Mom at the Table of Jesus (Mk.7, 24-30)

One poor, desperate mom. A daughter in distress, assailed by unclean spirits. No remedies and concoctions could ever help her. All the shamans and witch-doctors she has consulted were of no avail. And just when she was about to snap out of her wits, after exhausting all she could think of to help her wasting child...she heard of Jesus.

They said he was for real. They said he was from God. They said he has what she was hopelessly looking for. She must see Jesus. She MUST meet Jesus. She'll do whatever it takes to secure an audience with Jesus.

But actually meeting him proved to be vastly different from merely hearing about him. She was in for a shocker. She would find out later that he was more serious, more puzzling, more enigmatic, more rivetting in his words than all that has ever been said of him. He was even blunt and quite brutal. He called her a "bitch." "children first, dogs later..." said the sought after Lord.

But the Syro-phoenician's motherly heart was defiant. She did not come all the way here to be dismissed just like that. She came prepared for the wrestling match. "I may be a dog for all I care, but I'll eagerly await some scraps from your table still the same...don't give me the attitude young man...GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!" Here's one challenged Mom who would never have "no" for an answer.

And those were the very words the Lord was waiting for. He was not the least offended. He knew they were coming. He wanted that they burst forth. For unknown to the adamant mother, it was actually Jesus who DID wring her heart dry of every remaining bits and scraps of faith that it contains, and he found them copious and unrelenting. And there lies her salvation. There was found her daughter's resurrection.

Later that day...the holy bitch was said to have been seen prancing gleefuly as she made her way back home...WITH A WIDE, CANINE SMILE ON HER FACE...

i-Tg (ako-Taong-Grasa)

Puyat at pagod ngunit maaga kung gumising. Hindi maaaring tanghaliin at baka masalisod ng mga importante at abalang mga tao na pagputok na pagputok pa lamang ng araw ay karipas na sa pagpaparoo't parito sa mga lansanga't kalsada. Gugugulin niya ang mga unang sandali ng pagkagising sa pananahimik, pagbulong sa sarili (siguro'y panalangin), paghikab ng malalim at pagtitig sa malayo sa isang 'di mawaring bagay na s'ya lang ang nakaaalam kung ano. Malabnaw na kapeng makailang-ulit pang babantuan ng nilagang tubig sa pag-usad ng maghapon. Mga lumang diyaryong paulit-ulit na babasahin at matiim na pagninilayan na waring biblia sa turing. Sigarilyong mapait sa kamay na ngawit.

Madalas ay tahimik. Dinadaan-daanan. Nililihisan. Madalang kibuin o tapunan ng pansin pagka't mata'y nanlilisik. Bigla-bigla na lamang tumatawa ng malakas pag nakakita ng nagumpugang mga daga na naguunahan sa paglabas-masok sa mga butas at siwang.

May hawak na bolpen, lapis, at kahit anong uri ng pira-pirasong papel. Ito ang kaniyang sandaang mga sandata sa marami niyang pakikibaka. Ang mga ito ay ang kanyang baril, bomba, taga, lagari, pinsel, paet, karayom at sinulid, martilyo at pako, semento at bato.

Sa kapirasong santwaryo ng paborito n'yang sulok, doon s'ya nakalilikha, nakatitibag, nakapagtatahi, nakapaghihimay, nakabubuhay, nakapaglalakbay, nakikipag-niig sa mga anghel at santo, nakikipagtunggali sa mga ungas at demonyo.

'Pagkat walang magtangka na siya ay hawakan, ay malaya niyang naipapahayag ang kanyang mga saloobin. Magnanakaw ang tawag niya sa mga magnanakaw. Ganid kung ganid, mangmang kung mangmang. Tanging ingay at alulong ang kanyang naririnig sa mga hungkag na dalangi't papuri sa mga simbahan. At nasasamid at 'di mabigkas ng tuwid ang katagang 'kagalang-galang' kapag ang pinatutungkulan ay mga lantarang kawatan. Walang kagatol-gatol kung kanyang singaha't duraan ang mga plantsadong gayak ng mga pusakal. At 'di rin niya sinasakyan ang kinang at taginting ng mga kinahuhumalingan. Basura ang turing n'ya sa mga pinahahalagahang yaman ng iba. At ang kanyang mga basura ang tangi n'yang kayamanan.

Hindi niya gawaing makipag-siksikan. 'Di rin lalo ang makipag-unahan. Kung saan naroon ang libo-libong karamihan, ito ang kaniyang pinakaiiwas-iwasan. Hindi siya baliw at kapos sa pag-iisip. Ang 'di lang niya maunawaan ay kung bakit pagkarami-rami ang hindi mapakali, 'di masiyahan, ang 'di maibsan ang tila palalim ng palalim na paghahangad sa mga bagay na parang alikabok din lang naman, na saglit lang na maiipon at kakapal sa mga pansamantalang impukan, ngunit dagli ring isinasambulat ng mga biglaang pagbuga ng hangin. Hindi niya maintindihan kung bakit 'di maintindihan ng marami, na sapat nang biyaya ang hininga, ang ulirat, ang kakayahang umawit hanggang mamalat, ang lumaboy ng malaya kung saan mo maibigan, ang mag-ingay, manahimik, lumuha at tumawa, nang walang nagdidikta, nag-uutos o nagtutulak, kundi ang maalab na udyok ng likas na kalayaan.

Awa at pagkarimarim ang araw-araw na limos sa kaniya ng mga napapadaan o nakatatanaw sa kaniya sa mga 'di kalayuan. Awa't rimarim din naman ang ganti niyang bati sa mga nagbabato nito. Hindi niya ipinaghihinagpis ang mga pagkakataon na walang mangahas tumabi, makipag-usap ni makiramdam man lang sa kaniya. Ito nga'y mas mainam pa, upang 'di maantala ang mahalaga niyang tungkulin bilang taga-usig sa pinag-isang budhi ng naliligaw na bayan, at paminsan-minsang kalaro ng mga maya't langgam.