December is always fascinating. It is the month associated with joy, with colors, with everything beautiful. December, actually is the most anticipated month. It is the month when tropical climate is at its best, the month when typhoon usually stops coming, hopefully the month when calamities should at least be at rest.
December is lso associated with bonuses, with gifts, with plenty of food, with expensive toys and dresses. Most of all it is the month when we celebrate the birth of our Lord.
For the Filipinos, December has its own share of unhappy events. It is the month also of "Niños Inocentes". when we commemorate the killing of children under two years old as ordered by King Herod when Jesus Christ was born. It is the month when Rizal, our National Hero was executed at Bagumbayan, now Rizal Park. It is the month of almost successful Coup in 1989.
For the deprived Filipinos it is the month of humiliation when they feel poorer, unluckier, more deprived. But one thing good about December is that it brings with it Hope, it carries Promises, it adds a little Life to the dying and more strenght to the weakened.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
HEROISM
National Heroes Day! Feast of the proclaimed heroes. We have many proclaimed heroes and we all know them. They are our inspirations, their lives must be emulated. Without those heroes this country would have gone to the dogs a long time ago.
Heroes are seldom proclaimed nowadays. The criteria for heroism and martyrdom as well as sainthood are getting tougher and tougher as days pass-by.
But look, just to be able to survive with a smile this greatly devastated country is martyrdom enough. I think the calamities that God is allowing to visit this country in this generation are actually challenges to determine how strong we are. How we live in this kind of world actually separates the men from the boys, the women from the girls, the courageous from the cowards, the learned from the stupid, the genuines from the fakes, the heroes from the absurds, the martyrs from the charlatans, the good from the evil.
Yesterday, Senator Antonio Trillanes, III and General Danila Lim tried to be heroes by daring the existing government and they, together with their followers, landed in jail.
However, so many good things and so many heroes came out from our problems. They are like stars shining and twinkling beautifully during a dark, dark night. Just like during the first Christmas.
Heroes are seldom proclaimed nowadays. The criteria for heroism and martyrdom as well as sainthood are getting tougher and tougher as days pass-by.
But look, just to be able to survive with a smile this greatly devastated country is martyrdom enough. I think the calamities that God is allowing to visit this country in this generation are actually challenges to determine how strong we are. How we live in this kind of world actually separates the men from the boys, the women from the girls, the courageous from the cowards, the learned from the stupid, the genuines from the fakes, the heroes from the absurds, the martyrs from the charlatans, the good from the evil.
Yesterday, Senator Antonio Trillanes, III and General Danila Lim tried to be heroes by daring the existing government and they, together with their followers, landed in jail.
However, so many good things and so many heroes came out from our problems. They are like stars shining and twinkling beautifully during a dark, dark night. Just like during the first Christmas.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
MARITAL DIFFICULTIES
When I married I thought it was a bed of roses. When the children came out I realized that marriage was a sacrifice. I thought rearing babies was the most difficult and I hoped to be able to rest when they grow up.
They grew up and I discovered that they were even more difficult to deal with. And just when I thought I have adjusted well enough to my "grown-ups" new problems sprouted left and right. Their lovers, their love ones, their friends coming from diferent places bringing with them different culture and family background.
Parents cannot just keep quiet in their children's choices for their lifetime partners. Soon enough they started forming their own families... getting married one after another.This experience made me stare blankly at times. Not only that, they began migrating to other countries with their families.
Now two sons are based in Australia, a daughter moved to Canada, another daughter is planning to go to London after her marriage. Only a daughter married to a politician shall probably be left in the Philippines. It is good that my wife and I are old enough to say goodbye to the world. But hope I wish we had more bonding times with our grandchildren.
I think I have tried enough and have exerted all I can in rearing my children adequately and properly to face the new dimensions of their existence with their own chosen paths in life. I can feel a great sense of fulfillment though I know in many ways I didn't give them the best.
They grew up and I discovered that they were even more difficult to deal with. And just when I thought I have adjusted well enough to my "grown-ups" new problems sprouted left and right. Their lovers, their love ones, their friends coming from diferent places bringing with them different culture and family background.
Parents cannot just keep quiet in their children's choices for their lifetime partners. Soon enough they started forming their own families... getting married one after another.This experience made me stare blankly at times. Not only that, they began migrating to other countries with their families.
Now two sons are based in Australia, a daughter moved to Canada, another daughter is planning to go to London after her marriage. Only a daughter married to a politician shall probably be left in the Philippines. It is good that my wife and I are old enough to say goodbye to the world. But hope I wish we had more bonding times with our grandchildren.
I think I have tried enough and have exerted all I can in rearing my children adequately and properly to face the new dimensions of their existence with their own chosen paths in life. I can feel a great sense of fulfillment though I know in many ways I didn't give them the best.
Monday, November 26, 2007
BIRTHDAY CELEBRANTS
Today is Ninoy Aquino's Birthday. It is also the Birthday of my wife. To me both Ninoy and my wife were very important persons. Ninoy's death triggered the bloodless revolution that eventually drived away the conjugal dictators. My wife's life on the other hand was a revolution in itself.
Like EDSA revolution my wife was atypical in many ways but in her being atypical came out several characteristics not ordinarily encountered among ordinary housewives. The reason was simply because my wife was not ordinary.
When she worked she worked as if everything in this world depended on what she was doing. When she loved, she loved like a newborn baby, enjoying every touch of her mother's hands.
She knew little about great things but she did great things in little ways. She was a very protective mother, sometimes to a fault; naive about culture and trsditional heritages; childlike in her religious beliefs; assertive as a wife; carefree on matters concerning fashion and etiquette. For she was an ordinary woman with extra-ordinary qualities understood only by a loving husband.
Like EDSA revolution my wife was atypical in many ways but in her being atypical came out several characteristics not ordinarily encountered among ordinary housewives. The reason was simply because my wife was not ordinary.
When she worked she worked as if everything in this world depended on what she was doing. When she loved, she loved like a newborn baby, enjoying every touch of her mother's hands.
She knew little about great things but she did great things in little ways. She was a very protective mother, sometimes to a fault; naive about culture and trsditional heritages; childlike in her religious beliefs; assertive as a wife; carefree on matters concerning fashion and etiquette. For she was an ordinary woman with extra-ordinary qualities understood only by a loving husband.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Monologue of a Dirty Skull
Once, I was a handsome boy,
As happy as can be...
My eyes were bright,
My arms were strong
...MY LIFE WAS MAD AND FREE.
That time I was the strongest,
No one could challenge me.
In every way I was the best;
...WOMEN WERE CHASING ME.
But one day I met my fate.
I died a sudden death...
My head was cracked,
My arms did break,
...FORTUNE DISTORTED ME.
Now I am just a dirty skull,
A piece of nothing: That's me...
Quickly returning back to dust.
...WITHOUT THE CROSS, WHERE SHALL I BE?
To you, who are still alive
Just look at me and feel your life.
For very soon you'll be like me,
Look at your soul...
...LISTEN TO ME.
While there is time do something good.
Your life is but too very short.
Do it right now, there's no excuse...
Start moving
...DO SOMETHING GOOD.
For when you die, you'll profit none
To gain just all the whole world round.
If finally you'll lost your soul,
...YOU'LL ONLY BE A DIRTY SKULL.
As happy as can be...
My eyes were bright,
My arms were strong
...MY LIFE WAS MAD AND FREE.
That time I was the strongest,
No one could challenge me.
In every way I was the best;
...WOMEN WERE CHASING ME.
But one day I met my fate.
I died a sudden death...
My head was cracked,
My arms did break,
...FORTUNE DISTORTED ME.
Now I am just a dirty skull,
A piece of nothing: That's me...
Quickly returning back to dust.
...WITHOUT THE CROSS, WHERE SHALL I BE?
To you, who are still alive
Just look at me and feel your life.
For very soon you'll be like me,
Look at your soul...
...LISTEN TO ME.
While there is time do something good.
Your life is but too very short.
Do it right now, there's no excuse...
Start moving
...DO SOMETHING GOOD.
For when you die, you'll profit none
To gain just all the whole world round.
If finally you'll lost your soul,
...YOU'LL ONLY BE A DIRTY SKULL.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Why Teen-agers Avoid Confession
Teen-agers are beautiful beings.They live the happiest moments of their lives. And because teen-agers are most beautiful and most happy, they are the most misunderstood group of Homo sapiens strolling on earth. They will be seen in places where adults least expect them to see while they are nowhere in sight in areas where they should be. Well, that is why they are teen-agers.
But teen-agers are not just like that. They are many things more which makes them most interesting too. They hate to be called "miniature adults" and they dislike being branded as "grown-up infants". They just want to be known as teen-agers and hope to stay forever that way. For in fact, it is truly pleasing to be a teen-ager because teen-agers are the most responsible people... They are always right even if they are really right at times.
Being always right is good although being always right is being always a teen-ager, and being always a teen-ager means avoiding a thousand and one important privileges.
Teen-agers are awkward. They avoid many things: the adults, the children and yes, other teen-agers like them. By doing so they keep their awkwardness, the mark of a teen-ager... the sense of identity, the feeling of individualism in the already too crowded world.
They avoid the adults because "adults behave as if they never were teen-agers themselves". Adults are very inquisitive. They are dominant. They think they know everything but they always fail to prove their worth among teen-agers, that is why teen-agers hate them. Teen-agers also avoid children because children are ambitious, because children are nothing but "little adults", and teen-agers avoid adults.
Naturally they also avoid other teen-agers, and why not? Identity is an specialty and specialty is individuality. There is no room for a double. However, teen-agers are understanding; they can tolerate what they avoid; they have learned to swallow the bitter presence of others in their midst.
Teen-agers are tolerant but only up to a certain limitation.They can tolerate an adult or a child or even another teen-ager but not someone "too old" or someone too "childish" or something for other teen-agers. Yes, they can tolerate what they avoid and they will always avoid what they cannot tolerate... like the business of going to a priest to confess.
For a teen-ager, there is nothing wrong with confession. What they avoid is confessing. It is too much for them to swallow. First, because a priest is generally an adult, and adults are all alike; inquisitive, dominant and old. Second, because sin is only for children since children are not aware of what they are doing. Teen-agers believe that sins can only be committed when one is not aware of what he is doing. Who can ever argue on that logic? Did I not say teen-agers know what they are doing? Third, because confessing is a very stupid act done only by stupid teen-agers. And so teen-agers avoid confession.
Teen-agers love to be called young in as much as they really are but they can never admit that they are sinners. They will insist that anything they do is a privilege of the youth, a part of the process of growth, a natural phenomenon for them or else they are abnormal. As Ted Kennedy once said: " the misunderstanding between the young and the adult lay in the fact that the youth do not receive satisfactory answers to their difficult questions. 'The old have a tendency of double talking when it comes to dealing with the young'". A priest, for the youth, is not a very special adult and since confessions are handled by priests, they avoid them,.
On the other hand, some teen-agers go to confession. But how sincere really are are those who go? Many are doing it only because of love or a love one requested and certainly, a teen-ager believes that lover or the love one not because of his or her greatness but because he or she is another teen-ager who happen to be in conformity with his or her ideas.
The more effective strategy perhaps is for the priest, or for that matter, any adult, to look backwards to the time when he himself was a teen-ager. In this way, one shall be dealing with oneself.
But teen-agers are not just like that. They are many things more which makes them most interesting too. They hate to be called "miniature adults" and they dislike being branded as "grown-up infants". They just want to be known as teen-agers and hope to stay forever that way. For in fact, it is truly pleasing to be a teen-ager because teen-agers are the most responsible people... They are always right even if they are really right at times.
Being always right is good although being always right is being always a teen-ager, and being always a teen-ager means avoiding a thousand and one important privileges.
Teen-agers are awkward. They avoid many things: the adults, the children and yes, other teen-agers like them. By doing so they keep their awkwardness, the mark of a teen-ager... the sense of identity, the feeling of individualism in the already too crowded world.
They avoid the adults because "adults behave as if they never were teen-agers themselves". Adults are very inquisitive. They are dominant. They think they know everything but they always fail to prove their worth among teen-agers, that is why teen-agers hate them. Teen-agers also avoid children because children are ambitious, because children are nothing but "little adults", and teen-agers avoid adults.
Naturally they also avoid other teen-agers, and why not? Identity is an specialty and specialty is individuality. There is no room for a double. However, teen-agers are understanding; they can tolerate what they avoid; they have learned to swallow the bitter presence of others in their midst.
Teen-agers are tolerant but only up to a certain limitation.They can tolerate an adult or a child or even another teen-ager but not someone "too old" or someone too "childish" or something for other teen-agers. Yes, they can tolerate what they avoid and they will always avoid what they cannot tolerate... like the business of going to a priest to confess.
For a teen-ager, there is nothing wrong with confession. What they avoid is confessing. It is too much for them to swallow. First, because a priest is generally an adult, and adults are all alike; inquisitive, dominant and old. Second, because sin is only for children since children are not aware of what they are doing. Teen-agers believe that sins can only be committed when one is not aware of what he is doing. Who can ever argue on that logic? Did I not say teen-agers know what they are doing? Third, because confessing is a very stupid act done only by stupid teen-agers. And so teen-agers avoid confession.
Teen-agers love to be called young in as much as they really are but they can never admit that they are sinners. They will insist that anything they do is a privilege of the youth, a part of the process of growth, a natural phenomenon for them or else they are abnormal. As Ted Kennedy once said: " the misunderstanding between the young and the adult lay in the fact that the youth do not receive satisfactory answers to their difficult questions. 'The old have a tendency of double talking when it comes to dealing with the young'". A priest, for the youth, is not a very special adult and since confessions are handled by priests, they avoid them,.
On the other hand, some teen-agers go to confession. But how sincere really are are those who go? Many are doing it only because of love or a love one requested and certainly, a teen-ager believes that lover or the love one not because of his or her greatness but because he or she is another teen-ager who happen to be in conformity with his or her ideas.
The more effective strategy perhaps is for the priest, or for that matter, any adult, to look backwards to the time when he himself was a teen-ager. In this way, one shall be dealing with oneself.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
0F WOMEN AND TEARS
A teen-ager requested me one day to write something about women and tears. Hope he is around to read this.
While both sexes are created with tear glands, only female (not necessarily the weaker sex) is fully associated with real tear flow. Women are generally better criers than men. This started when Eve tearfully offered an apple to Adam in paradise. Adam fell and we all know what happened next.
Tear, physiologically speaking, is nothing but a simple compound of cleansing fluid, intended to wash away the dirt of the eyes. In like manner, a woman is nothing but a chemical composition, so complicated, for man to understand. Both women and tears are simple, yet both women and tears are complicated, enough to confuse any man on his right senses.
I am one such confused man because I've seen a woman crying. It was such a terrible sight. I was shaken... yes, body and soul, I was shaken. She looked relaxed, composed and in control of her poise but her tears were more eloquent. I saw them flowing on her soft, rosy cheeks. They spoke fluently for her. They told me her feelings and I was not too dull to understand.
Tears are women's interpreters of their emotional feelings, a "talkative" outlet of their suppressed moods. When tears talk, you've got to listen, because when tears talk, they talk well.
Then again I saw her crying. This time she was not composed, she was not relaxed, she was not her usual poise, for she was mad. Her face was red with anger, her eyes were burning with furor but tears were dropping endlessly from them. She looked lovelier. How can a man answer back a crying beauty, no matter how mad? Tears are women's charm, so overwhelming, so magnetic, so powerful that they can melt even a monster's heart.
Finally, at long last, I saw her happy. She was so overwhelmed by joy that her eyes elongated into two pretty slits. Blood vessels became visible on her neck, minute arteries reddened her face and her dimples laugh with her lips. She was hilariously dancing out her uncontrollable contentment. But she was crying. She had drawn herself with tears. Everybody else laugh with her and the whole world turned pink. Tears are women's sense of humor. With them, she could express her jokes and impart her wittiness.
She was bitten by a centipede. The pain was unbearable. She strongly clasped her hands while greatly gnashing her teeth. It must be terrific, her lips turned blue. Again, she let flow the sedative. The bitter tear that relaxes, the tear that curses.
Women and tears are inseparable. Useless will be one without the other. Tears are women's line of defense. their greatest weapons to protect themselves. A man maybe strong with his arms, but a woman is stronger with her sighs. A man is powerful with his dignity but a woman is greater with her sobs. A man maybe famous and incorruptible, yet a woman is eternal because with her tears, she can wash even her soul. While Hestas condemned himself by spitting out his sins, Magdalene saved herself by bathing in contritions with tears.
I am in love with a woman who knows how to cry. And she is a good mother and a perfect wife.
While both sexes are created with tear glands, only female (not necessarily the weaker sex) is fully associated with real tear flow. Women are generally better criers than men. This started when Eve tearfully offered an apple to Adam in paradise. Adam fell and we all know what happened next.
Tear, physiologically speaking, is nothing but a simple compound of cleansing fluid, intended to wash away the dirt of the eyes. In like manner, a woman is nothing but a chemical composition, so complicated, for man to understand. Both women and tears are simple, yet both women and tears are complicated, enough to confuse any man on his right senses.
I am one such confused man because I've seen a woman crying. It was such a terrible sight. I was shaken... yes, body and soul, I was shaken. She looked relaxed, composed and in control of her poise but her tears were more eloquent. I saw them flowing on her soft, rosy cheeks. They spoke fluently for her. They told me her feelings and I was not too dull to understand.
Tears are women's interpreters of their emotional feelings, a "talkative" outlet of their suppressed moods. When tears talk, you've got to listen, because when tears talk, they talk well.
Then again I saw her crying. This time she was not composed, she was not relaxed, she was not her usual poise, for she was mad. Her face was red with anger, her eyes were burning with furor but tears were dropping endlessly from them. She looked lovelier. How can a man answer back a crying beauty, no matter how mad? Tears are women's charm, so overwhelming, so magnetic, so powerful that they can melt even a monster's heart.
Finally, at long last, I saw her happy. She was so overwhelmed by joy that her eyes elongated into two pretty slits. Blood vessels became visible on her neck, minute arteries reddened her face and her dimples laugh with her lips. She was hilariously dancing out her uncontrollable contentment. But she was crying. She had drawn herself with tears. Everybody else laugh with her and the whole world turned pink. Tears are women's sense of humor. With them, she could express her jokes and impart her wittiness.
She was bitten by a centipede. The pain was unbearable. She strongly clasped her hands while greatly gnashing her teeth. It must be terrific, her lips turned blue. Again, she let flow the sedative. The bitter tear that relaxes, the tear that curses.
Women and tears are inseparable. Useless will be one without the other. Tears are women's line of defense. their greatest weapons to protect themselves. A man maybe strong with his arms, but a woman is stronger with her sighs. A man is powerful with his dignity but a woman is greater with her sobs. A man maybe famous and incorruptible, yet a woman is eternal because with her tears, she can wash even her soul. While Hestas condemned himself by spitting out his sins, Magdalene saved herself by bathing in contritions with tears.
I am in love with a woman who knows how to cry. And she is a good mother and a perfect wife.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
What a Beautiful Morning
Last night I slept at around 10:00 O'clock p.m. when the flower of the goose-neck cactus was in full bloom spreading its scent all over my terrace of merriment.
Now I know it is around 4 O'clock in the morning. Many roosters are crowing while the hens are screaming around. A symphony of sounds is heard together with those of other night birds also rejoicing.
From my room only one panel of my window pane is half open. If I open all panels it would be too cold and too windy for my health.
From that half-opened panel I could see the brightness of the morning star on top of the swaying palms of the proud coconut tree. The bright morning star is very, very slowly moving downwards as if fetching the sunrise.
I thank God for the beautiful day. I whispered a morning prayer while preparing myself for another interesting and fruitful day.
Before I realized it, the golden sunrise dominated the brightness of the morning star that quietly went away. What a beautiful morning!
Now I know it is around 4 O'clock in the morning. Many roosters are crowing while the hens are screaming around. A symphony of sounds is heard together with those of other night birds also rejoicing.
From my room only one panel of my window pane is half open. If I open all panels it would be too cold and too windy for my health.
From that half-opened panel I could see the brightness of the morning star on top of the swaying palms of the proud coconut tree. The bright morning star is very, very slowly moving downwards as if fetching the sunrise.
I thank God for the beautiful day. I whispered a morning prayer while preparing myself for another interesting and fruitful day.
Before I realized it, the golden sunrise dominated the brightness of the morning star that quietly went away. What a beautiful morning!
NECROLOGICAL SERVICES
A Municipal Councilor died and I watched the Necrological services held at the local session hall.The place was a bit crowded for the occasion; what with all the municipal officials, policemen, relatives and friends of the deceased. There were no seats and the photographer was nervously moving around trying to focus his camera on the governor. Everybody else was elbowing gayfully (note: the word gayfully) against one another in search for a more comfortable space.
Suddenly the amplifier made a long scandalous sound, then harsh voice came out with it calling the roll of councilmen. As the name of the dead councilor was called, no one answered (well, of course everybody was aware he was dead), but there were occasional sobs and uncoordinated noses.
A councilor stood up and read his prepared speech. He mentioned some good points about the dead man, then pleaded to everybody to pray for the soul of the departed colleague. Another councilor followed making a very long repetitious words of praises; a couple of other speakers continued then finally the son responded. Meantime, some were exchanging jokes outside. All policemen looked confused, walking endlessly in all directions while the son could hardly express his gratitude... and it was all over.
The coffin containing the body was moved towards the Church. The funeral procession was attended by hundreds of men, women and children, a brass band was following
That was the end of another man, another man who, during his life was a very controversial person; the most misunderstood but who kept a jovial attitude 'till death. Soon he shall be forgotten, for what is the use of a dead man? A topic for necrological services, that is all.
Life indeed is more pleasing, more valuable. Let us therefore add life to our remaining years because even years are no longer important to our remaining lives, if we shall simply exist. It is not important even if when we die the rest will forget us, as long as ourt souls can rejoice.
Suddenly the amplifier made a long scandalous sound, then harsh voice came out with it calling the roll of councilmen. As the name of the dead councilor was called, no one answered (well, of course everybody was aware he was dead), but there were occasional sobs and uncoordinated noses.
A councilor stood up and read his prepared speech. He mentioned some good points about the dead man, then pleaded to everybody to pray for the soul of the departed colleague. Another councilor followed making a very long repetitious words of praises; a couple of other speakers continued then finally the son responded. Meantime, some were exchanging jokes outside. All policemen looked confused, walking endlessly in all directions while the son could hardly express his gratitude... and it was all over.
The coffin containing the body was moved towards the Church. The funeral procession was attended by hundreds of men, women and children, a brass band was following
That was the end of another man, another man who, during his life was a very controversial person; the most misunderstood but who kept a jovial attitude 'till death. Soon he shall be forgotten, for what is the use of a dead man? A topic for necrological services, that is all.
Life indeed is more pleasing, more valuable. Let us therefore add life to our remaining years because even years are no longer important to our remaining lives, if we shall simply exist. It is not important even if when we die the rest will forget us, as long as ourt souls can rejoice.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Confession of an Ex-convict
He was a 'bad boy', he admitted... before. But now after having stayed inside the prison bars for years, he learned many lessons and discovered the meaning of life. He decided to live the life that he just discovered. Now that he is released from prison, he is extremely happy for at last he will be able to use the rest of his life-service for his mother, for goodness, for works worthy in the eyes of God.
The way he expressed to me his feelings,I was convinced that he had sincerely repented for his past shortcomings against society, that he was willing to live a new life in a new world... but his mother, the cause of his joy, the purpose of his new plans in life, while he was in prison, 'turned bad'. His very young brother told him the story which he did not want to believe at first but which turned out to be very true. Now, upon discovery of the facts, his subconscious was again rebelling against his reason. He could not by all means explain why things happened that way.
He told me everything and I myself felt speechless at first. He talked so calmly and so dignified that you would not believe he was ever in prison or in trouble. Yet, I could feel the pumping of his heart, the gnashing of his teeth, the confusion in his mind and the feeling of disbelief though all the time he remained composed.
Tactfully I tried to let him feel psychologically comfortable. I showed to him the clear picture of his situation and how to go about it. All the while he was very attentive and I took advantage of it. I talked and talked to let him feel he was not alone. I made him realize that I was sympathizing with him but at the same time I made him discover that even his mother could not be blamed since his being bad before was the root of all the trouble.
Finally, I implanted into his mind that his trouble was beyond human capabilities and for problems like this, only God could help because without God "he could do nothing". He felt consoled and showed a hopeful smile then thanked me and promised to come closer to God.
The way he expressed to me his feelings,I was convinced that he had sincerely repented for his past shortcomings against society, that he was willing to live a new life in a new world... but his mother, the cause of his joy, the purpose of his new plans in life, while he was in prison, 'turned bad'. His very young brother told him the story which he did not want to believe at first but which turned out to be very true. Now, upon discovery of the facts, his subconscious was again rebelling against his reason. He could not by all means explain why things happened that way.
He told me everything and I myself felt speechless at first. He talked so calmly and so dignified that you would not believe he was ever in prison or in trouble. Yet, I could feel the pumping of his heart, the gnashing of his teeth, the confusion in his mind and the feeling of disbelief though all the time he remained composed.
Tactfully I tried to let him feel psychologically comfortable. I showed to him the clear picture of his situation and how to go about it. All the while he was very attentive and I took advantage of it. I talked and talked to let him feel he was not alone. I made him realize that I was sympathizing with him but at the same time I made him discover that even his mother could not be blamed since his being bad before was the root of all the trouble.
Finally, I implanted into his mind that his trouble was beyond human capabilities and for problems like this, only God could help because without God "he could do nothing". He felt consoled and showed a hopeful smile then thanked me and promised to come closer to God.
SIN OF OMISSION
I was I new medical graduate when this incident happened. Another woman died; she did not die alone for she was in full term pregnancy and was about to deliver the baby who also died a few minutes following the mother. Both mother and child could have been saved, but ignorance and negligence killed them.
I knew the case because I was called to attend to them. She was already dead when I arrived, in fact she was already dead when someone decided to call a doctor. She died abruptly according to the informant, a quack midwife (hilot), after complaining of severe epigastric pain with radiation at the back accompanied by vomiting of "very yellow" fluid. Further informations revealed that the woman have been yellow all over since about two weeks ago but no one cared to call a doctor as she was up and about with her daily activities. With the data given I presumed that the cause of sudden death could be rupture of the gall bladder. She could have been saved had she decided to call a doctor earlier, the child too, could have been saved even after the death of the mother if someone smart enough only played his role and gave his share. There were hundreds of people around when I came. Most of them looked smart and everybody was hurrying. A woman (the one who called me) was forcing me to give all the injections I could to bring back the life of the already rigid Madonna and Child.
The above incident is not uncommon. Many lives could have been saved if only someone informed enough in the community of uninformed should take the courage to explain what he knew.
There are very few persons with determination to share his knowledge with others and if this will go on, society will go to the dogs.
People have gone to the moon and they will not stop until they unveil the mystery of the outer space but even if they become successful in all their ventures; even if they are able to count the number of stars in the galaxy, as long as there is someone in this planet earth who still believe that the earth is flat, all is in vain. The important thing is not what you are doing, no matter how fantastic, but what you fail to do.
Going back to the woman who died: she was buried extravagantly, the funeral procedures were all first class, many joined the funeral parade, much money was spent; yet, if even just one tenth of the amount spent for the burial was spent for the consultation at the appearance of the yellowish discoloration, she could have been saved. But that time, she had no money. It took one's life to realize everything.
I agree with him who said: "It is not the things you do dear, it is the things you leave undone... that gives you a bit of heartache at the setting of the sun".
Sins of omission happens left and right. At the Last Judgment, God's questions will be few and simple but only few could truly answer "yes, my Lord". Did you feed the hungry? Did you give drink to the thirsty? Did you clothe the naked? Did you visit those in prison? Did you shelter the homeless? Did you visit the sick and bury the dead? Did you admonish the sinner? Did you instruct the ignorant? Did you counsel the doubtful? Did you comfort the sorrowful? Did you bear wrongs patiently? Did you forgive all injuries? Did you pray for the living and the dead?
Yes, God will not ask the number of craters in the moon nor the number of hearts transplanted. He will not ask senseless questions. He will only ask what you did to the least of His brethren, things most people failed to do. Sins of omission...
Let us therefore stop elbowing against one another for things unknown. That is plain nonsense. Let us just look at our brethren; let us find the least of them, for in them we shall see Christ portion by portion and only through that way shall we really see Him face to face.
I knew the case because I was called to attend to them. She was already dead when I arrived, in fact she was already dead when someone decided to call a doctor. She died abruptly according to the informant, a quack midwife (hilot), after complaining of severe epigastric pain with radiation at the back accompanied by vomiting of "very yellow" fluid. Further informations revealed that the woman have been yellow all over since about two weeks ago but no one cared to call a doctor as she was up and about with her daily activities. With the data given I presumed that the cause of sudden death could be rupture of the gall bladder. She could have been saved had she decided to call a doctor earlier, the child too, could have been saved even after the death of the mother if someone smart enough only played his role and gave his share. There were hundreds of people around when I came. Most of them looked smart and everybody was hurrying. A woman (the one who called me) was forcing me to give all the injections I could to bring back the life of the already rigid Madonna and Child.
The above incident is not uncommon. Many lives could have been saved if only someone informed enough in the community of uninformed should take the courage to explain what he knew.
There are very few persons with determination to share his knowledge with others and if this will go on, society will go to the dogs.
People have gone to the moon and they will not stop until they unveil the mystery of the outer space but even if they become successful in all their ventures; even if they are able to count the number of stars in the galaxy, as long as there is someone in this planet earth who still believe that the earth is flat, all is in vain. The important thing is not what you are doing, no matter how fantastic, but what you fail to do.
Going back to the woman who died: she was buried extravagantly, the funeral procedures were all first class, many joined the funeral parade, much money was spent; yet, if even just one tenth of the amount spent for the burial was spent for the consultation at the appearance of the yellowish discoloration, she could have been saved. But that time, she had no money. It took one's life to realize everything.
I agree with him who said: "It is not the things you do dear, it is the things you leave undone... that gives you a bit of heartache at the setting of the sun".
Sins of omission happens left and right. At the Last Judgment, God's questions will be few and simple but only few could truly answer "yes, my Lord". Did you feed the hungry? Did you give drink to the thirsty? Did you clothe the naked? Did you visit those in prison? Did you shelter the homeless? Did you visit the sick and bury the dead? Did you admonish the sinner? Did you instruct the ignorant? Did you counsel the doubtful? Did you comfort the sorrowful? Did you bear wrongs patiently? Did you forgive all injuries? Did you pray for the living and the dead?
Yes, God will not ask the number of craters in the moon nor the number of hearts transplanted. He will not ask senseless questions. He will only ask what you did to the least of His brethren, things most people failed to do. Sins of omission...
Let us therefore stop elbowing against one another for things unknown. That is plain nonsense. Let us just look at our brethren; let us find the least of them, for in them we shall see Christ portion by portion and only through that way shall we really see Him face to face.
Monday, November 5, 2007
A WEDDING DAY
While scanning my files I came across this interesting article. It happened a long time ago, March 7, 1992 to be exact. It was truly a day to remember. I was scheduled to sponsor a wedding at St. Joseph Parish Church, Las Piñas, where the world famous "Bamboo organ" is kept for centuries. The invitation says it starts at 10:30 a.m, but my wife had appointments with some clients at 8:00 a.m. at the Magallanes Supermart. To save gasoline we agreed that together with my daughter, Brinna who was joining me to the wedding, we would all go together, drop Terry at Magallanes then the two of us would proceed to Las Piñas.
As expected we arrived long before 9:00 a.m., about two hours ahead of schedule. I told my daughter that one good principle to keep in mind when there is an important appointment is that, "It is better three hours too soon than one minute too late". So we killed time and a poolice man helped us crossed the street. I was about to praise him to the high heavens for being so different until I realized that he left his post and followed us for quite a time obviously waiting for "lagay".
At around 10:00 a.m. another group of wedding entourage with golden motif came (our motif was red) but the ceremony was not started even when their scheduled time was long over. I was restless and sort of beginning to feel irritated specially when someone told me that our true schedule was 11:00 a.m. but it was only printed as 10:30 a.m. in the invitation to give allowance to "filipino time" practitioners.
But my temper was somehow appease when a rumor got around that the golden-motifed wedding was canceled because on the way to the church the groom was apprehended by the police. He turned out to be an addict supposedly inside the rehabilitation center. It was a tragic event just like in the movie.
Before our own schedule was started the color motif inside the church was changed to red. Meantime one of the eight lady sponsors, visibly the most bejeweled, approached me introducing herself as the former Ana de Taza. It took me quite a time to recognize her for she has grown too fat and a bit too dark compared to her pleasant look during her younger days.
Our wedding entourage started late and there was no one smart enough to make an orderly procession. I personally knew only the bride who happened to be one of the teachers of one of my children way back at De La Salle Zobel at Ayala Alabang where all my children studied. Most of the other sponsors were police officers except for a certain Dr. Mendoza who was a Doctor of Education.
The reception that followed was held at the covered backyard of the groom. It was a small space decorated with white and red creep papers. A typical Pilipino Banquet with Lechon, fried chicken, minudo,embutido, morcon, escabeche, shrimps, fruit salad and leche plan. The presidential table was surrounded by all the folks in the neighborhood. My daughter joined the daughter and niece of Ana de Taza-Molina. It was a happy traditional wedding party.
On our way home my daughter was nagging me if I courted Ana when I was young. I said no, as I couldn't remember having courted her or even having crush on her. She was a happy companion then together with her other co-teachers from General Aguinaldo but I don't remember getting romantically interested in her. She probably confused that I liked her when we serenaded her once with my friends. But of course it is interesting to discover now that she entertained such an "illusion".
Now I understand why she kept on looking and talking to me before the wedding started. Finally she told her daughter that I courted her and her daughter in turn told my daughter about it, hence the reason for the nagging. The new generation must have been greatly entertained.
At 5:00 pm. Brinna and I went to San Agustin Church to attend another wedding. The reception was held at the poolside of "Imelda's" extravagant Coconut Palace. It was a beautiful place and the banquet was too elegant and classy. The food served by buffet style was simple but the presentation of the wedding program was very grand, complete with singer, dancer, violin band and formal presentation of all the wedding participants to the delight of the guests. Even the release of the white doves and final toast of the couple with their guests were dramatically romantic.
Reviewing the three weddings before retiring at night my mind kept on deciphering what could have happened to the bride of the groom who was apprehended by the police, not to mention the complications that involved so many people afterwards. I was trying to make my own analysis that probably the two were so much in love with each other, the very reason why the wedding was planned in the first place. Probably a very close relative of the bride counldn't swallow and addict groom and probably that close relative made negotiations for the apprehension of the groom just to stop the wedding.
But it is also probable that that close relative was the very cause of the groom's becoming an addict.Well, there are hundreds of possibilities and I stopped thinking at that point. Probably, I will never know the outcome of the tragic story but I presume that probably they also chose the day March 7, 1992 for the marriage day because like the two other wedding they also believed in good days for nuptials.
As expected we arrived long before 9:00 a.m., about two hours ahead of schedule. I told my daughter that one good principle to keep in mind when there is an important appointment is that, "It is better three hours too soon than one minute too late". So we killed time and a poolice man helped us crossed the street. I was about to praise him to the high heavens for being so different until I realized that he left his post and followed us for quite a time obviously waiting for "lagay".
At around 10:00 a.m. another group of wedding entourage with golden motif came (our motif was red) but the ceremony was not started even when their scheduled time was long over. I was restless and sort of beginning to feel irritated specially when someone told me that our true schedule was 11:00 a.m. but it was only printed as 10:30 a.m. in the invitation to give allowance to "filipino time" practitioners.
But my temper was somehow appease when a rumor got around that the golden-motifed wedding was canceled because on the way to the church the groom was apprehended by the police. He turned out to be an addict supposedly inside the rehabilitation center. It was a tragic event just like in the movie.
Before our own schedule was started the color motif inside the church was changed to red. Meantime one of the eight lady sponsors, visibly the most bejeweled, approached me introducing herself as the former Ana de Taza. It took me quite a time to recognize her for she has grown too fat and a bit too dark compared to her pleasant look during her younger days.
Our wedding entourage started late and there was no one smart enough to make an orderly procession. I personally knew only the bride who happened to be one of the teachers of one of my children way back at De La Salle Zobel at Ayala Alabang where all my children studied. Most of the other sponsors were police officers except for a certain Dr. Mendoza who was a Doctor of Education.
The reception that followed was held at the covered backyard of the groom. It was a small space decorated with white and red creep papers. A typical Pilipino Banquet with Lechon, fried chicken, minudo,embutido, morcon, escabeche, shrimps, fruit salad and leche plan. The presidential table was surrounded by all the folks in the neighborhood. My daughter joined the daughter and niece of Ana de Taza-Molina. It was a happy traditional wedding party.
On our way home my daughter was nagging me if I courted Ana when I was young. I said no, as I couldn't remember having courted her or even having crush on her. She was a happy companion then together with her other co-teachers from General Aguinaldo but I don't remember getting romantically interested in her. She probably confused that I liked her when we serenaded her once with my friends. But of course it is interesting to discover now that she entertained such an "illusion".
Now I understand why she kept on looking and talking to me before the wedding started. Finally she told her daughter that I courted her and her daughter in turn told my daughter about it, hence the reason for the nagging. The new generation must have been greatly entertained.
At 5:00 pm. Brinna and I went to San Agustin Church to attend another wedding. The reception was held at the poolside of "Imelda's" extravagant Coconut Palace. It was a beautiful place and the banquet was too elegant and classy. The food served by buffet style was simple but the presentation of the wedding program was very grand, complete with singer, dancer, violin band and formal presentation of all the wedding participants to the delight of the guests. Even the release of the white doves and final toast of the couple with their guests were dramatically romantic.
Reviewing the three weddings before retiring at night my mind kept on deciphering what could have happened to the bride of the groom who was apprehended by the police, not to mention the complications that involved so many people afterwards. I was trying to make my own analysis that probably the two were so much in love with each other, the very reason why the wedding was planned in the first place. Probably a very close relative of the bride counldn't swallow and addict groom and probably that close relative made negotiations for the apprehension of the groom just to stop the wedding.
But it is also probable that that close relative was the very cause of the groom's becoming an addict.Well, there are hundreds of possibilities and I stopped thinking at that point. Probably, I will never know the outcome of the tragic story but I presume that probably they also chose the day March 7, 1992 for the marriage day because like the two other wedding they also believed in good days for nuptials.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
B L I N D
There was once a young girl who was born blind. Someone asked her: "If wishes do come true what would be your most important wish in life?" The girl answered: "If wishes are granted, I will not waste my time wishing that I should see but that those who could already see may see the truth, beautiful and right".
We, with good sights are sometimes blind to so many things. We keep on seeking for what is not available, for what is far away. Yet, if we shall only open our eyes wildly we shall discover that we are surrounded by the graces of God. The beauty of nature is just around, good people are always available.
A blind man may not physically see things but he could see beyond his blindness. He could see colors through his imagination, he could appreciate art through his memory, he could understand life through experiences. He could not only see but actually experience love through his understanding, he could see goodness through his feelings, he could see God through his prayers, he could see the world because his heart is not blind.
We, with good sights are sometimes blind to so many things. We keep on seeking for what is not available, for what is far away. Yet, if we shall only open our eyes wildly we shall discover that we are surrounded by the graces of God. The beauty of nature is just around, good people are always available.
A blind man may not physically see things but he could see beyond his blindness. He could see colors through his imagination, he could appreciate art through his memory, he could understand life through experiences. He could not only see but actually experience love through his understanding, he could see goodness through his feelings, he could see God through his prayers, he could see the world because his heart is not blind.
THE CEMETERY
Almost a week after All Saints' Day I am still haunted by that place called the Cemetery. It is a place associated with silence as when one says, "silent as a grave". Any talk therefore about it is a bold attempt to disturb its serenity, its peace and sacredness. But a cemetery is also a common place and common places are good topics for common sense.
Nowadays, when cemeteries are already known as Memorial Parks and common senses are getting more uncommon, it is about this time that we should talk about the riddle of the tombs.
A cemetery no matter how it is arranged and wherever it is located, is always like a museum... full of dead things. The grasses may be greener and the air truly fresher, but still a cemetery is not a lively place. Yet, a cemetery is a symbol of many things. It is a historical record written in dirty bones. It talks of the past, speaks of the present and tells everything about the future. All the time it only says the truth. What in this world can talk about the truth better than a cemetery?
The day before All Saints' Day I brought my two grand daughters both to the Old Municipal Cemetery and the New Memorial Park. I was surprised that they both enjoyed the unusual place. They asked me so many questions that somehow challenged my sanity for a while. It was a learning experience.
Through cemeteries, past events are known and understood, present life is patterned and future improvements are being evaluated; but all the time the cemetery is insisting that man is limited, for man is going to die. Who can argue against the logic of the tomb?
An extension was under construction for reserved Mausoleums, I even suggested that they put up a Crematorium as many of the new generations are intending to be cremated, including myself.
Of course everything has been tried and are still being tried to prevent death, but the cemetery won't give way. It is always there, calling, waiting and willing to care for the remains of man in different manners. It is the very symbol of equality, the fair judge of all lives, the final destiny of our mortal bodies.
I have created my own grave site. It is a circular area planted to a Cypress tree where my ashes shall be scattered around after I am cremated when I die. My wife said she would join me there.
Many are afraid to die because many are afraid of the truth. They are scared of cemeteries because they are scared of themselves. Man is indeed funny, living a funny life in a funny world. On the other hand, the cemetery is lifeless... that is why it is always serious, that is why it is always for the truth and that is why it is a lonely place. Yet, a cemetery is not the end. It is not the finality of man, for man is immortal and his immortality goes beyond the grave. But man does not realize this until he reaches a cemetery where he learns the lesson. Most of the time, too late.
The cemetery is the gateway to Eternity. It is the spiritual labor room where man is born to an endless world. It is the light that reflects a beam of brightness to the image of God in everyone; the light that is bright enough to show the reality of God to man.
It is very clear that the cemetery is the Truth, the Life, the Way and the Light of man. Why then fear such a great and important place? A cemetery, after all, is God's indispensable instrument teaching man to understand himself. It is man's reminder of God's Omnipotence, the link that connects the creatures to their Creator.
Death is an inevitable affair. It will come to everyone. To some, death will come earlier and to others, death will pay a later visit but to everyone, death is a must. It is just like that... There is nothing that man can do to prevent it. Let us therefore face death with smile and courage because that is the only avenue that will bring us to Eternity, the only boulevard towards God.
If the Cemetery could talk, it will relate many stories, Tales of bones and skulls as well as experiences of dirty particles of dust. It will tell adventures of greatness, of victory and defeat, of success and failure. If it could paint, it would draw pictures of beauty, it will paint patterns of colors. If it could, it would sing melodies of happiness and frustrations. Yes, it would impart the lives of the many men buried in it. If the cemetery could only talk... But no, for the cemetery is "silent as a grave". It is just a place for the dead and the dead can do nothing. It cannot talk, it cannot paint, it cannot sing, it had to keep quiet.
From this cold, clammy and quiet piece of land we call the cemetery, let us go and study ourselves. We no longer can feel the powers of those great leaders of long ago for they are gone. Nothing was left of them but pieces of dirty bones buried underneath the green carpet of grass. Where are the beauties that we all longed to possess? They were eaten by the worms inside those shiny catacombs. That is the cemetery... a mute piece of earth where God has written the following passage: "Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return".
The following day, All Souls' Day, my wife and I went to the other town where her parents and siblings, my in-laws, were buried. Because of the traffic we were delayed and arrived there as the night was beginning to engulf the day. There were no more people...only us and her brother.
We lighted two candles, whispered a short prayer and left the place which literally was really "silent as a grave".
Nowadays, when cemeteries are already known as Memorial Parks and common senses are getting more uncommon, it is about this time that we should talk about the riddle of the tombs.
A cemetery no matter how it is arranged and wherever it is located, is always like a museum... full of dead things. The grasses may be greener and the air truly fresher, but still a cemetery is not a lively place. Yet, a cemetery is a symbol of many things. It is a historical record written in dirty bones. It talks of the past, speaks of the present and tells everything about the future. All the time it only says the truth. What in this world can talk about the truth better than a cemetery?
The day before All Saints' Day I brought my two grand daughters both to the Old Municipal Cemetery and the New Memorial Park. I was surprised that they both enjoyed the unusual place. They asked me so many questions that somehow challenged my sanity for a while. It was a learning experience.
Through cemeteries, past events are known and understood, present life is patterned and future improvements are being evaluated; but all the time the cemetery is insisting that man is limited, for man is going to die. Who can argue against the logic of the tomb?
An extension was under construction for reserved Mausoleums, I even suggested that they put up a Crematorium as many of the new generations are intending to be cremated, including myself.
Of course everything has been tried and are still being tried to prevent death, but the cemetery won't give way. It is always there, calling, waiting and willing to care for the remains of man in different manners. It is the very symbol of equality, the fair judge of all lives, the final destiny of our mortal bodies.
I have created my own grave site. It is a circular area planted to a Cypress tree where my ashes shall be scattered around after I am cremated when I die. My wife said she would join me there.
Many are afraid to die because many are afraid of the truth. They are scared of cemeteries because they are scared of themselves. Man is indeed funny, living a funny life in a funny world. On the other hand, the cemetery is lifeless... that is why it is always serious, that is why it is always for the truth and that is why it is a lonely place. Yet, a cemetery is not the end. It is not the finality of man, for man is immortal and his immortality goes beyond the grave. But man does not realize this until he reaches a cemetery where he learns the lesson. Most of the time, too late.
The cemetery is the gateway to Eternity. It is the spiritual labor room where man is born to an endless world. It is the light that reflects a beam of brightness to the image of God in everyone; the light that is bright enough to show the reality of God to man.
It is very clear that the cemetery is the Truth, the Life, the Way and the Light of man. Why then fear such a great and important place? A cemetery, after all, is God's indispensable instrument teaching man to understand himself. It is man's reminder of God's Omnipotence, the link that connects the creatures to their Creator.
Death is an inevitable affair. It will come to everyone. To some, death will come earlier and to others, death will pay a later visit but to everyone, death is a must. It is just like that... There is nothing that man can do to prevent it. Let us therefore face death with smile and courage because that is the only avenue that will bring us to Eternity, the only boulevard towards God.
If the Cemetery could talk, it will relate many stories, Tales of bones and skulls as well as experiences of dirty particles of dust. It will tell adventures of greatness, of victory and defeat, of success and failure. If it could paint, it would draw pictures of beauty, it will paint patterns of colors. If it could, it would sing melodies of happiness and frustrations. Yes, it would impart the lives of the many men buried in it. If the cemetery could only talk... But no, for the cemetery is "silent as a grave". It is just a place for the dead and the dead can do nothing. It cannot talk, it cannot paint, it cannot sing, it had to keep quiet.
From this cold, clammy and quiet piece of land we call the cemetery, let us go and study ourselves. We no longer can feel the powers of those great leaders of long ago for they are gone. Nothing was left of them but pieces of dirty bones buried underneath the green carpet of grass. Where are the beauties that we all longed to possess? They were eaten by the worms inside those shiny catacombs. That is the cemetery... a mute piece of earth where God has written the following passage: "Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return".
The following day, All Souls' Day, my wife and I went to the other town where her parents and siblings, my in-laws, were buried. Because of the traffic we were delayed and arrived there as the night was beginning to engulf the day. There were no more people...only us and her brother.
We lighted two candles, whispered a short prayer and left the place which literally was really "silent as a grave".
Friday, November 2, 2007
FIRST CANONIZED SAINT
November 1st is All Saints' Day. They must be all rejoicing in heaven. Everyone must be in the mood to intercede for prayer requests of the living mortals. But we forget to seek their intercession as we decide to remember instead our departed relatives on this day, hoping that they are all saints.
I wonder how many catholics know that the first saint to be canonized is St. Dismas, the thief to the right of Jesus when He was crucified. Dismas is the one who said : "Lord, remember me when You go to Paradise", to which Jesus responded: "Amen, amen, I say to thee, this day you will be with Me in Paradise".
Those were the words of canonization... and Dismas went to Paradise with Jesus Christ. He is the only saint canonized by Christ Himself, the others were done by the Pope. He is the only saint canonized instantly... others take hundreds of years. He is so close and so strong to Jesus Christ that his intercessions are almost always granted.
For instant help I always seek the intercession of St. Dismas and many times he didn't fail me. I had his image specially sculptured for me by Arturo Suarez but when I visited the Manila City Jail one time and noticed that the chapel named after him had no image of the saint. I donated mine.
I wonder how many catholics know that the first saint to be canonized is St. Dismas, the thief to the right of Jesus when He was crucified. Dismas is the one who said : "Lord, remember me when You go to Paradise", to which Jesus responded: "Amen, amen, I say to thee, this day you will be with Me in Paradise".
Those were the words of canonization... and Dismas went to Paradise with Jesus Christ. He is the only saint canonized by Christ Himself, the others were done by the Pope. He is the only saint canonized instantly... others take hundreds of years. He is so close and so strong to Jesus Christ that his intercessions are almost always granted.
For instant help I always seek the intercession of St. Dismas and many times he didn't fail me. I had his image specially sculptured for me by Arturo Suarez but when I visited the Manila City Jail one time and noticed that the chapel named after him had no image of the saint. I donated mine.
REMEMBERING THE DEPARTED
November 2 is All Soul's Day. This is the feast of all souls. This is supposed to be the day for the dear departed but very few cares to remember them this day. We have done everything yesterday... offering of prayers, candles and flowers.
In my case, every time that I am reminded of someone who is already dead, I offer a short prayer for his soul. If I am reminded of several I offer prayers for the souls in purgatory.
When I pass-by a house where there is a wake or when I encounter a funeral while commuting I see to it that I always offer a prayer for the soul of whoever is dead.
That is my way of helping and cooperating with the departed members of the "Church Suffering". In turn they also help us, the still living members of the "Church Militant". In their dimension of existence they could observe us better and they are in a better position to know our problems and extend their help. This is in the hope that some day we shall become members of the "Church Triumphant".when we shall all be enjoying he beatific vision.
In our Apostle's Creed there is a portion that mentions our belief on the communion of saints. While on earth, the most that we can do is offer them prayers every now and then or in my case after my evening prayer and morning prayers.
In my case, every time that I am reminded of someone who is already dead, I offer a short prayer for his soul. If I am reminded of several I offer prayers for the souls in purgatory.
When I pass-by a house where there is a wake or when I encounter a funeral while commuting I see to it that I always offer a prayer for the soul of whoever is dead.
That is my way of helping and cooperating with the departed members of the "Church Suffering". In turn they also help us, the still living members of the "Church Militant". In their dimension of existence they could observe us better and they are in a better position to know our problems and extend their help. This is in the hope that some day we shall become members of the "Church Triumphant".when we shall all be enjoying he beatific vision.
In our Apostle's Creed there is a portion that mentions our belief on the communion of saints. While on earth, the most that we can do is offer them prayers every now and then or in my case after my evening prayer and morning prayers.
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