10:35 pm. January 1, Thursday. Room N – 11
second floor of the Novitiate House of Prayer. My room. I was about to
surrender my cell phone[1]
when I received a text message coming from my step sister back home telling me:
“Tumawag ka, nasa ospital si Tita
Connie!” After calling her, I learned that my mother was in excruciating
pain last December 30 and she had undergone surgery in her intestines and the
doctors found a tumor. As of that moment they were still conducting battery of
tests and biopsy to see if the lump is benign. A colostomy bag was attached to
her abdomen. Once again, the menace of possible cancer is knocking on our
family door. The claws of anxiety are clutching my throat – it may not be a
happy New Year after all.
This
was not the first time I received such a disturbing news while I am in
religious formation. More than ten years ago, I was then a postulant in another
congregation and seas away from my family when I received the heart-breaking
news of my sister’s demise who battled against lupus for more than eight years.
I must confess, I had difficulty praying for her even before she died. I guess,
when the doctors told us that only a miracle could cure her – I lost my hope. I
was hesitant back then to ask God for healing because I was afraid I might lose
my faith if God will refuse to answer my sangpit.
But still, even if my sister eventually returned to her Creator, her ordeal
brought about many emotional healing in our family. It made our family bond
stronger. That time, I thought I already learned how to surrender to God all my
family concerns. But I guess no person can get used to receiving bad news, especially
if it is about your mother. Now that I am once again miles away from my family,
anxious fear seemed to become the batobalani
that connects me to them.
I
found myself inside our oratory: a conceited-know-it-all-theologian; a smug
contemplative; and a liturgy aficionado – now lost with words beseeching: “Lord, teach me how to pray” (cf. Luke
11: 1). And indeed, He answered me by not telling “what” to pray for…but “how”
to pray… He showed me the CEBUANOS.
It
started in the first day of the Novena to Señor Santo Niño: the walk with Jesus
procession and the Mass. Seeing the throng of people was overwhelming – no, it
was an experience of the mysterium
tremendum et fascinans even without the thick clouds of incense. Rarely
have I witnessed the dream of Vatican II’s active participation in actuality. Surely,
the Council Fathers will be moved into tears if they saw what I saw – actually
not just saw, but experienced. I felt goosebumps under my skin and a deep pinch
in my heart similar to almost trembling in awe! The experience was ineffable!
To try describing the experience into words would be a great disservice to what
transpired. The Cebuanos way of showing their affection and faith to Señor
Santo Niño humbled me so.
Having
been in the charismatic renewal movement at a young age; then joining a contemplative
order who is known for a rich tradition in mysticism; followed by diligent
study of philosophy and sacred theology; seasoned with post-graduate studies in
sacred liturgy – I thought I already grasped an advance know-how in the science
and art of prayer. But the psalmist might shake his head on me and say, “let those who say "Aha!" turn
back in their shame” (Ps 70: 4). Being an overzealous liturgist and a
self-righteous contemplative, I downplayed devotions. I saw it before as “twisting the arms of God” to get what
we want. For me, our prayer should always be “fiat voluntas tua” – but I forgot that before Jesus uttered those
words in the garden of Gethsemane, He humbly asked the Father first if He could
take away from Him the cup of suffering (cf. Mark 14: 36). I undermined the
zealousness and devotions of common folks, arrogantly thinking that I know
better. Without acknowledging it, I look at some of their practices as foolish
– bordering to superstition and idolatry. But “God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose
the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised
of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are
something, so that no human being might boast before God” (1 Cor 1: 27 –
29).
I
was grasping for air… looking for a way to have access with God… I need to
touch the tassel of His cloak not for my sake but for my mother. To the
question, “where can I find God?”,
perhaps an easy and practical answer would be “Go inside a church and there you will find Him.” However, God made
me realize through the Cebuanos that there is a better way: “Go and join the community at worship and
there you will meet God. For God dwells not in empty buildings made of wood and
stones, but in the hearts of the faithful who gather to sing God’s praises” (cf.
Mt 18:20). I was so engrossed with the official public worship of the Church (Roman
Liturgy), I forgot that varied are the ways to have access with the Divine. I
realized what the Council Fathers meant when they said that “the spiritual life is not limited solely to
participation in the liturgy” (Sacrosanctum
Concilium 12). I literally felt the Lord’s presence. I was able to say “He is here”, because we are here. It is
the presence of Christ in his body the Church that confers holiness to that
place. I was able to resonate with the people’s plea… with one mind and one
heart we resounded our sangpit to the
Child King. Truly, the LORD hears the poor and does not spurn those in bondage
(cf. Ps 69: 34).
I
asked a Cebuano brother how the “Walk with Jesus” procession started. He said
that it was conceptualized to dramatize the Presentation of the Child Jesus in
the temple. So while joining hundreds of devotees in the procession, I tried to
reflect on what happened in the fourth joyful mystery. The charm of the
“Presentation of Jesus in the temple” and the seemingly idyllic scene of Mary,
Joseph and Jesus in the temple, form only part of the picture. For it is bitter-sweet.
The “presentation of Jesus in the temple” is bitter-sweet because of the
remarkable words Simeon uttered to Mary: “a
sword will pierce your own soul too – so that the thoughts of many hearts may
be revealed” (cf. Luke 2: 35). The words he uttered are confusing,
impenetrable; but the quiet assurance with which he delivers them guarantee the
truth they contain. Mary learns that she will suffer too; a sword will pierce
her own soul. In my reflection, I too owned that prophecy. By walking with the Santo
Niño and the people towards the Basilica, I know our souls will also be
pierced….so that the thoughts of our hearts may also be revealed.
When
my sister gave the phone to my mother, I could barely hear her voice. My sister
told me that my mother reprimanded them for informing me her condition. She was
worried that I will be distracted in my canonical year as an Augustinian
novice. She even said that I now belong to God and to my religious
congregation. This brought back significant memories. I remembered the day I
finally convinced my Mom, a nominal Catholic, to join a charismatic group so
that she will be able to experience the joy I felt in serving the Church. It
was short-lived because my Mom was refused to receive absolution by a Monsignor
after going to confession – all because she was cohabitating with my father
without the blessing of matrimony. Technically speaking, my father was already
based in the U.S. without any physical contact with my mother for years – but
the Monsignor did not even bother to ask that. For him, my mother should cut
all connections with my father or else suffer the wrath of hell. She went home
crying telling me that the Church has closed its doors on us. I refused to
believe that. And I know in her heart, she also refused to believe that – in
fact, she offered a son to God and to the Church: me. What breaks her heart, as
well as mine, is our fear that because of her poor health, she might not live
the day to witness the ordaining hands of the bishop on top of my head. This is
why nisangpit ko Niya: not for me,
but for my mother. Oh Señor Santo Niño, just this once, please turn a loving
ear to my plea. If it is not too much to ask, please extend the life of my
mother.
Perhaps,
God allows us to experience sufferings in order that the thoughts of our hearts
may be revealed. The pain and anxiety caused by the disturbing news about my
mother’s illness pierced my heart so deeply, I cannot help but barely lay down
the thoughts of my heart at the foot of Santo Niño. Devoid with flamboyant
words and pageantry of rituals, like so many people around me, tears became the
incense that brought my innermost entreaty to God while waving my hand in the
tune of the Gozos and dancing the Sinulog like there’s no tomorrow in
front of thousands of devotees as a total act of oblation and resignation to the
Child King. Who could not be drawn to the people’s manifestation of faith? I
found myself being pulled by a very powerful force: a magnet of love. I have
re-discovered what years of formal studies in Theology has robbed me: childlike
faith – a surrending and trusting faith. A faith that can peacefully put its
confidence on the hands of God.
Perchance,
the devotion to Señor Santo Niño is appealing to Filipinos because it is
connected with human problems and sentiments; it possesses a spontaneous and
creative quality, which may sometimes distance it from the doctrine and
discipline of the Church; it is traditional in orientation; and it is suited for
simple people. Cultural anthropologist describes it as: festive, felt, and
spontaneous; it is expressive, immediate, and human; it is communitarian,
collective, joyful, symbolic, traditional, and alive.[2]
While the Roman liturgy tend to address the intellect, devotional prayers
appeal to the sentiments and emotions of people.[3] To
many people the liturgy is helplessly cold and distant. Its classical forms of
noble simplicity and logical sequence are alien to the religious experience of
many faithful who prefer to use their hearts and emotions more than their
intellect when they pray to God.[4]
The Cebuanos, with their childlike faith in the Santo Niño, made me appreciate
the Consensus fidelium[5]
– leaving me trembling in awe. For indeed, it seems to me, God cannot but
respond to their sangpit.
As
an Augustinian novice, my use of cellphone is still restricted to privileged
days (birthdays of parents, Christmas and New Year), and so, as of the moment I
have no contact with my family. I literally have no idea what is happening now
with my mother – I have no idea regarding the results of the biopsy. My old
self would usually bombard me with useless worries and negativity. But now it
is different. Now I am not afraid to pray. I am not scared that I might lose my
faith if God will not answer me. Now I am not hopeless. Thanks to thousands of
Cebuanos, they taught me how to have hope, for truly, our Señor Santo Niño is
the hope of the people. One homilist during the novena Masses said, for Santo
Niño devotees, there is no such thing as pessimism because true devotees
believe that their Lord is awake, ever ready to listen and answer their sangpit.
I,
now a devotee of Señor Santo Niño, hope against hope with a trusting faith and
an indomitable love: “O Señor Santo Niño,
please heal my Mom.” I am now rest assured that God will take care of my
mother.
Jesus
once again taught me how to pray… He taught me how to pray with a childlike
faith – a trusting faith – a faith full of hope. I was drawn by the people’s
faith, by their sangpit – like a batobalani sa gugma, a powerful force
pulled me back securely to my heavenly Father’s embrace.
[5] Universality
to the assent of faith, and refer to the situation in which the entire body of
believers, “from the bishops down to the last member of the laity” – St. Augustine’s
expression, cited verbatim by the Council (LG 12). It is in this situation,
Vatican II asserts, that the whole people of God cannot err.
