September 29, 2013

Gospel and Prayer September 29, 2013

September 29, 2013
Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Lectionary: 138

Reading 1 AM 6:1A, 4-7
Thus says the LORD the God of hosts: Woe to the complacent in Zion! Lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches, they eat lambs taken from the flock, and calves from the stall! Improvising to the music of the harp, like David, they devise their own accompaniment. They drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils; yet they are not made ill by the collapse of Joseph! Therefore, now they shall be the first to go into exile, and their wanton revelry shall be done away with.

Responsorial Psalm PS 146:7, 8-9, 9-10
R. (1b) Praise the Lord, my soul!
or:
R. Alleluia.
Blessed he who keeps faith forever, secures justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets captives free.
R. Praise the Lord, my soul!
or:
R. Alleluia.
The LORD gives sight to the blind. The LORD raises up those who were bowed down; the LORD loves the just.
The LORD protects strangers.
R. Praise the Lord, my soul!
or:
R. Alleluia.
The fatherless and the widow he sustains,but the way of the wicked he thwarts. The LORD shall reign forever;
your God, O Zion, through all generations. Alleluia.
R. Praise the Lord, my soul!
or:
R. Alleluia.

Reading 2 1 TM 6:11-16
But you, man of God, pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called when you made the noble confession in the presence of many witnesses. I charge you before God, who gives life to all things, and before Christ Jesus, who gave testimony under Pontius Pilate for the noble confession, to keep the commandment without stain or reproach until the appearance of our Lord Jesus Christ that the blessed and only ruler will make manifest at the proper time, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, and whom no human being has seen or can see. To him be honor and eternal power. Amen.

Gospel LK 16:19-31
Jesus said to the Pharisees: “There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even used to come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried, and from the netherworld, where he was in torment, he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he cried out, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.’ Abraham replied, ‘My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours.’ He said, ‘Then I beg you, father, send him to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.’ But Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.’ He said, ‘Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ Then Abraham said, ‘If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.’”

Prayer:

“If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

Lord, thank you for warning us time and time again of the wages of sin. You sent the prophets and the evangelists to foretell what could happen to us if we persist in our sinful ways. Save us, Lord, from eternal damnation. Make us your obedient lambs, discipline us, if you will, never let us out of your sight for we can be stubborn and hard-headed. Sometimes we are like the rich man, after only our own comfort, ignoring our neighbor who has less than us. We understand that our faith is a sharing faith, not a faith by form only and not by substance. Draw us closer and closer to you, so that we will not stray. Amen .

September 28, 2013

Glory

He wasn’t a Dino Madrid,
or an Alfonso Salvador, you
wouldn’t give him a second
look or a second thought, he
flapped when he walked,
like sails in want of wind, that’s
it, he didn’t have wind at all,
but he had a heart-rending smile,
something between “I like you,”
and “Can we be friends?” yes,
he would place himself entirely
at your disposal, speaking in
hushed tones, as if in church,
reverential is the word for it,
in perfect non-judgment, pure
friend, and under October skies
he would be buried with heroes,
it’s sunny one moment and so rainy
that prayers come to mind, even
nature cannot match his steady
walk, for when we was in third
year high school, he wanted to
wear the uniform, and so it has
come to pass, that the most
obedient one will be buried as
a hero of the fair republic, he
always wanted to wear the
uniform, and in it he shall be
interred, for dead men do tell
tales, tales of strong desire born
in the girded loins of young men,
eager for victories well-fought,
but the pantheon of heroes
belong to those who wait,
wait with Aurel smile, “Thank you,
I know what I want,” he whispers
from death’s door left ajar,
“The boy in me knew that from
the start, glory belongs to those
who will not dare seek it.”

Goodbye, Aurel.

September 15, 2013

Gush

I will gush.

Our bunso Maud and I jogged around Rizal Park in Manila this morning at around 8:30. It was overcast, and I was amazed by Maud’s stamina. But that is just part of what I will gush about.

In the sixties, Manila was just Manila. There was very little of Makati, Quezon City, Caloocan, almost none of Muntinlupa, Parañaque and Las Piñas. There were no malls, no internet, no gadgets. When people wanted to savor life in the early morning, at night or in the weekends, they would usually go to Luneta, what is now known as Rizal Park. Years later, despite government’s efforts to regain its glory, Luneta fell apart. No one talked about it anymore.

When I visited Bangkok in the early 2000s, I marveled at Lumphini Park, a place dedicated to joggers and other fitness enthusiasts. When I saw it at the break of dawn, it was wall-to-wall runners. The roadways were filled with people, cars were kept at a safe distance. There were pagodas, a lagoon, gigantic shade trees like the arms of God embracing man, woman and child who gathered to delight in the breath of life in exercise. I said we will never have something like that place. I was wrong. When I jogged with Maud this morning in Luneta, I found my Lumphini in Manila. From the Quirino grandstand to the Philippine map beside Taft Avenue, the park was clean and beautiful. Move over Lumphini. I read that Rizal Park was being refurbished, little did I know that it would end up as one of the most satisfying places I would ever see.

I was in high spirits throughout the jog. “Ang ganda ng Pilipinas!” I said to caretakers, photographers, strollers while greeting them good morning. Of course they thought I was mad. When I saw a young couple toting a baby, I told them, “Look, I’m jogging with my daughter already!” And when Maud and I passed the Rizal monument, I cried out, “Dr. Rizal! The Filipino is worth dying for!” I saw the guards stand at attention with more conviction.

So there. Here’s a Filipino who has never left the country even if he had a chance to go and live in Canada. Here’s a Filipino who has attended almost every mass action to fight transgressions, from the burial march of Ninoy Aquino to the confetti rallies in the Makati central business district to the two EDSAs to the wake of Cory Aquino to the anti-pork barrel million people march in Luneta two weeks ago, a bit disgruntled by our politics. But I know that we will not only survive, we will prosper in this beautiful country of ours because we love beauty, we love life, love trees, grass, the breath of life.

An addendum: the Philippines ended up in number 67th in the list of happiest people. The metrics used included a corruption-free government, presence of social services, among other things. Of course we will end up somewhere last. But if the metric were changed to: “Are you happy in spite of external forces such as inefficient government and lack of social benefits? Are you happy just being with family and friends, enjoying your country in spite of those who would rob it blind, even if you seem powerless to stop the greed of public servants?” I’m sure the Philippines will end up in the top ten, even on top.

We are a happy country. Perhaps too happy, to the delight of sociopathic* leaders because we have a short memory, we forgive easily, we vote on the basis of winnability not ideals or potential, but that is another story. Today I will gush, for I have something to gush about: our family’s togetherness, our common love for health, fitness and dogs, our fulfillment in our careers, the beauty of our country, God’s love for us. I will gush.

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antisocial_personality_disorder

September 14, 2013

Gospel and Prayer, September 15, 2013

Reading 1, Exodus 32:7-11, 13-14

7 Yahweh then said to Moses, ‘Go down at once, for your people whom you brought here from Egypt have become corrupt.

8 They have quickly left the way which I ordered them to follow. They have cast themselves a metal calf, worshipped it and offered sacrifice to it, shouting, “Israel, here is your God who brought you here from Egypt!” ‘

9 Yahweh then said to Moses, ‘I know these people; I know how obstinate they are!

10 So leave me now, so that my anger can blaze at them and I can put an end to them! I shall make a great nation out of you instead.’

11 Moses tried to pacify Yahweh his God. ‘Yahweh,’ he said, ‘why should your anger blaze at your people, whom you have brought out of Egypt by your great power and mighty hand?

13 Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to whom you swore by your very self and made this promise: “I shall make your offspring as numerous as the stars of heaven, and this whole country of which I have spoken, I shall give to your descendants, and it will be their heritage for ever.”

14 Yahweh then relented over the disaster which he had intended to inflict on his people.

Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 51:3-4, 12-13, 17, 19

3 For I am well aware of my offences, my sin is constantly in mind.

4 Against you, you alone, I have sinned, I have done what you see to be wrong, that you may show your saving justice when you pass sentence, and your victory may appear when you give judgement,

12 Give me back the joy of your salvation, sustain in me a generous spirit.

13 I shall teach the wicked your paths, and sinners will return to you.

17 Sacrifice to God is a broken spirit, a broken, contrite heart you never scorn.

19 Then you will delight in upright sacrifices — burnt offerings and whole oblations — and young bulls will be offered on your altar.

Gospel, Luke 15:1-32

1 The tax collectors and sinners, however, were all crowding round to listen to him,

2 and the Pharisees and scribes complained saying, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’

3 So he told them this parable:

4 ‘Which one of you with a hundred sheep, if he lost one, would fail to leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the missing one till he found it?

5 And when he found it, would he not joyfully take it on his shoulders

6 and then, when he got home, call together his friends and neighbours, saying to them, “Rejoice with me, I have found my sheep that was lost.”

7 In the same way, I tell you, there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner repenting than over ninety-nine upright people who have no need of repentance.

8 ‘Or again, what woman with ten drachmas would not, if she lost one, light a lamp and sweep out the house and search thoroughly till she found it?

9 And then, when she had found it, call together her friends and neighbours, saying to them, “Rejoice with me, I have found the drachma I lost.”

10 In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing among the angels of God over one repentant sinner.’

11 Then he said, ‘There was a man who had two sons.

12 The younger one said to his father, “Father, let me have the share of the estate that will come to me.” So the father divided the property between them.

13 A few days later, the younger son got together everything he had and left for a distant country where he squandered his money on a life of debauchery.

14 ‘When he had spent it all, that country experienced a severe famine, and now he began to feel the pinch;

15 so he hired himself out to one of the local inhabitants who put him on his farm to feed the pigs.

16 And he would willingly have filled himself with the husks the pigs were eating but no one would let him have them.

17 Then he came to his senses and said, “How many of my father’s hired men have all the food they want and more, and here am I dying of hunger!

18 I will leave this place and go to my father and say: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you;

19 I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired men.”

20 So he left the place and went back to his father. ‘While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with pity. He ran to the boy, clasped him in his arms and kissed him.

21 Then his son said, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son.”

22 But the father said to his servants, “Quick! Bring out the best robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.

23 Bring the calf we have been fattening, and kill it; we will celebrate by having a feast,

24 because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life; he was lost and is found.” And they began to celebrate.

25 ‘Now the elder son was out in the fields, and on his way back, as he drew near the house, he could hear music and dancing.

26 Calling one of the servants he asked what it was all about.

27 The servant told him, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the calf we had been fattening because he has got him back safe and sound.”

28 He was angry then and refused to go in, and his father came out and began to urge him to come in;

29 but he retorted to his father, “All these years I have slaved for you and never once disobeyed any orders of yours, yet you never offered me so much as a kid for me to celebrate with my friends.

30 But, for this son of yours, when he comes back after swallowing up your property — he and his loose women — you kill the calf we had been fattening.”

31 ‘The father said, “My son, you are with me always and all I have is yours.

32 But it was only right we should celebrate and rejoice, because your brother here was dead and has come to life; he was lost and is found.” ‘

Reading 2, First Timothy 1:12-17

12 I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength. By calling me into his service he has judged me trustworthy,

13 even though I used to be a blasphemer and a persecutor and contemptuous. Mercy, however, was shown me, because while I lacked faith I acted in ignorance;

14 but the grace of our Lord filled me with faith and with the love that is in Christ Jesus.

15 Here is a saying that you can rely on and nobody should doubt: that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. I myself am the greatest of them;

16 and if mercy has been shown to me, it is because Jesus Christ meant to make me the leading example of his inexhaustible patience for all the other people who were later to trust in him for eternal life.

17 To the eternal King, the undying, invisible and only God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

From http://www.catholic.org/bible/daily_reading/?select_date=2013-09-15

Prayer:

“My son, you are with me always and all I have is yours.”

Lord, I’ve always focused on the son who went away when I read and reflect on the parable of the prodigal son, but tonight, I realized that the son who stayed behind is also prodigal in a way. In complaining about his father’s treatment of the son who has returned, the other son who never left his father’s side could have recklessly squandered his father’s goodwill by his grumbling. He tested his father, the same way the outwardly wayward son tested his father. Lord, sorry if I am either son. Sometimes, I am outwardly wayward, but sometimes I resent your treatment for favoring other people over me. From now on, I shall always be thankful and joyful for the blessings you have given me, regardless of what others have. Thank you for forgiving me again and again. Even if I don’t ask for your forgiveness, you still forgive me I know because of the lightness of my spirit. Thank you for sending your Holy Spirit to the me, your most undeserving son. Amen.

September 13, 2013

43 Years

Forty-three years later we still feel
the same way, still laughing at
the same jokes told and retold,
but wait, there’s a certain cautiousness
in the way we act or think, no longer
impetuous, not rushing into anything
anymore, the chair is occupied now,
unlike before when we were walking,
running, standing up, seldom sitting
down, perhaps that’s how it is with
wiser men, preferring to sit down more,
thinking more, reflecting more,
more time to think things over, and
when we see each other, we still
recall the blind obedience to a cause,
yes, we were like soldiers, deep-seated
love for an ideal: “you’ll be a man, my son,”
we were 17 or 18 years old then, we’re
past 60 now, who would imagine that
we could still be the same brods of the
basement, carrying the one who’s hurt,
not minding our pain too much, because
we’re brothers and we’re not heavy,
43 years have passed, some have gone
ahead, their names on our lips when we
see each other, mourning still, oh, who
would have imagined that we would still
be here, brothers after all these years.

Happy birthday, batch ’70!

August 29, 2013

Top

You might think she’s stationary,
actually she’s cooking and cooking
not only food for the family for the
last 31 years, but food that gives
and gives, for the family’s mirth,
Christmases like no other, for the
family’s energy, see how her husband
and daughters spend energy like
it’s no one’s business, and yes,
she’s cooking ideas, without calling
attention, for how could this family
stay connected and keep on sharing
and sharing its gifts and talents, if
she didn’t approve or didn’t encourage,
yes, she has many, many gifts, she’s
a gift in and by herself, at the end of
the day she’s completely spent, words
are hard to come by for her, she’s
actually word-poor, so when she needs
to speak it’s always to the point, not
wasting ammunition, straight and true,
her messages in sound bytes, and
then she’s back to her world where
family is all there is to it, family, family,
family, husband, husband, husband,
daughters, daughters, daughters, that’s
her life, so when sometimes she looks
like she’s not moving, she’s actually
spinning like a top, top speed always,
for family, food for the tummy, food for
thought, if you wonder why this family’s
this way, why it does what it does, it’s
because of her, there’s no her, there’s
no Renée, only family, only husband,
only daughters, only siblings, only
mother, only in-laws, that’s Super Super
Renée for the world, almost invisible.

Happy birthday, Momsie!

August 27, 2013

Hard Facts

I kept thinking during the Million People March to Luneta last Sunday: “If these same people who are so aghast and raving mad right now at the misuse of the Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF) get into power by election or appointment, will they be able to get their hands clean?”

I wasn’t.

When I was assigned a vehicle in my stint with the Philippine Information Agency in 1986, my outlook changed. I considered it my own, something I had earned. When my superiors wanted to have my vehicle—because it was fresh—I reacted with imagined hurt.

The nerve of that guy.

I was more than an activist, and up this point in my life, I remain one. I think I will always require idealism, not from others, but in myself, that I will not present anything less than the ideal. But there you have it, a realization, that when power, big or small, ever gets into our hands, we will not let go, no sir. It is human instinct.

Who was it who said that if all men were angels, there would be no need for government? Paraphrasing it to fit in today’s PDAF world, if all leaders were angels, there would be no need for a million marchers. But there will always be corrupt ones, as there will always be idealists. Sometimes their roles change, such as what happened to the impeached and unlamented Chief Justice Renato Corona. He thought it was his time to come out, after all, the rally was anti-PNoy. He was wrong. Booed after sharing his thoughts, he had to leave the rally area completely humiliated.

But as I said, would the people who booed or shouted invectives be idealists if they were in the former Chief Justice’s shoes? I doubt it. I doubt it because of personal experience. There no saints in the face of wealth, convenience (such as my powerful vehicle, a Toyota Land Cruiser model 1985 or so, standard issue in Greg Cendana’s National Media Production Center).

I’m happy that the million marchers rally happened. It was timely. But I’ve been in the business of rallying for a long time, enough for me to say that we are all weak, we are all sinners. And so when I shout with the multitude that the guilty ones should be punished, I’m really saying: “If ever I am caught doing the wrong thing, please punish me on earth, so that I can reform. I will consider it a favor if I am corrected, so that I will get a second chance to be good again.”

Such is life, roles will be reversed, the world is round, sooner or later the rich will be chastised, and the poor will be in power. I hope that we will be wise enough to know that we are all sinners anyway, and I hope that we will have time to repent. Mass actions trigger these thoughts in me, thoughts about the frailty of man and woman, thoughts about the power we have to be good, and our weakness to stave temptation. I thank God that I knew I was wrong about my reaction when my service vehicle was pulled, I thank him for giving me another chance.

August 26, 2013

Flamenco

She’s in Andalucia, clapping her hands
and stomping her feet in percussive music,
what a delight, more on her side than on
the side of the audience, for it’s her thing,
to dance the flamenco, and the audience
disappears as she goes through the difficult
motions, Spanish blood courses through
her veins, ages ago, her ancestors must
have forgotten, when the conquistadors
entered the Camarines, there must have
been fusion of both races, the shy Bikolana
and the handsome marine from the galleon
in Ragay gulf, there must be some connection,
for it’s in her blood, flamenco, twirling, stomping,
hands twisting in perfect harmony, that’s her
life, too, in harmony with self and nature,
music, dance and life, they’re all the same
to her, the audience disappears as she dances
the flamenco, beautiful lady in red and black.

Happy birthday, Tess!

August 21, 2013

Behn

He was gay. He was gay in a land that valued manliness. He was gay in a fraternity known for bravery, known for valiant members such a Ninoy Aquino, my ka-batch Mer Arce, and oh yes, Ferdinand Marcos, fallen as he was, he commanded respect just by being an alpha dog.

He was gay but he wasn’t afraid to admit it, wasn’t afraid to flaunt it, wasn’t afraid to make it work for him. But he was a he. He was as manly as they came. “It’s a commitment,” he told me once, “and being committed is being male.”

Picked him up once in Alabang, where his group of marchers made up of farmers had rested for the night. Brought him to my house in Pilar Village, where he had a shower, and we ate monggo, meat and rice. You could talk to him. He was actually a regular guy, unlike his person when he directs, when he is full of fire and vitriol. It’s his passion, or one of his passions, to direct plays, and I was in one or two of them, “Macario Sakay” by Efren Yambot also an esteemed brother, our batch’s Tatang actually, for Efren was I.F. (Most Illustrious Fellow, head of resident brods) when batch ’70 was in initiation. Behn also directed me in a one-act play “Hello Out There,” where I played the one who was in jail, and my girlfriend then played my love interest. “Kiss her, (expletive deleted)!” he pleaded when I was too shy to kiss my girl on-stage. I had to do it, or he would have descended on me with hammer and tongs.

Yes, he was always in command. I was a provinciano from Naga, and when my brods would parade with pizzazz and panache, he was odd, being gay, but he was up front, he defined the fraternity I suppose, the brods loved him, he existed long before being gay was acceptable, he existed in his own world which he somehow made us accept, he was ahead by a half-century, that’s Behn for me.

As we battle with our modern demons, the pork barrel scandal, the floods brought about by climate change and changing minds (“Dynamite the squatters,” says the public works secretary, then “I didn’t say that”), Behn stands tall. He was gay, but he meant it.

Farewell, dear brother. When I meet you in the sun, I shall tell you much.

http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/470597/upsilonians-remember-brod-behn-cervantes

August 19, 2013

Grease

I remember her by grease, you see
every time I see her she’s in the kitchen,
we would come I think for Christmas,
and she would be cooking mechado,
or kare-kare, she was kinda strict looking,
like a math professor in UP, with
the way she looks at you, yes, that’s
it, she looks like an eagle, with her
beaked nose, her eyes that pierce,
like you have done something wrong
and she knows about it, and one time,
she put me on a batya, and kneaded
me with her powerful hands, rubbing
the daylights out of me, including the
first layer of my epidermis, perhaps she
thought she could make my skin lighter,
but my skin stayed dark, and she stayed
like an eagle, but she wasn’t strict after
all, bringing me and her other apos
to watch Bridge Over the River Kwai,
walking the length of Carriedo and Avenida
Rizal, she had a stout heart, always presented
to the world her asthmatic kind of laugh
which was a cross between a cough and
a guffaw, and when I was in UP, she read
my history book by Teodoro Agoncillo,
she loved the twists of Philippine history,
couldn’t put the book down, she reveled
in it, I saw a different Lola Concha that night,
she hardly slept, I think she read it cover
to cover, didn’t know she loved the country
so, and in her final days she was the kindly
woman she really was, disciplinarian she
was when we were young, but she had a
soft side, a nationalist side, a ready smile
for this apo of hers when he makes mano,
my Tatay looked like her, and today, when
I am more or less her age when she pored
through Agoncillo’s book: I took after her,
in nationalism, in occasional mirth, in love
for family, fierce love actually, oh, she
didn’t experience traffic, or climate change,
floods and thieving politicians, but I’m sure
if she were still around, she’ll put them on
a batya and try to rub the dirt off them,
they’ll stay dark, I suppose, for they do not
make Filipinos like her anymore, ultra nationalist,
ultra family, rubbing and rubbing the dirt
off from those who needs rubbing.

Happy birthday, Lola Concha!

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