Hospital is a sacred ground

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 23 October 2023

The president of our hospital where I serve as chaplain posted yesterday a beautiful reflection on his Facebook page about the war and hostilities in Gaza, calling on everyone to pray hard for its peaceful resolution.

What touched me was when he said, “I am a doctor and in my heart of hearts, I feel that hospitals should enjoy certain exemptions. I wish then as now, that hospitals should never have their electricity or water cut-off… I am thankful that the hospital I work in is not in any immediate danger of being bombed. Life is already fragile as it is.”

As I have been telling you, I am a hospital chaplain. And like our president, in my heart of hearts, hospitals should be exempted from any form of violent attacks at all times. Wherever.

The word “hospital” is from the Latin word hospis which means “to welcome” from which “hospitality” also came from.

Since my assignment as chaplain at the Fatima University Medical Center in Valenzuela in February 2021, I have realized it was only then have I truly “welcomed” human mortality, both as an individual and a member of the human race. I must confess that it was only when I became a hospital chaplain have I realized in the most existential manner the meaning of being mortal, that someday I could be one of those patients lying on those beds with tubes and monitors attached to my body, perhaps in coma. During these past two years of visiting our patients every Sunday, sometimes daily or at the middle of the night or early morning when that Latin phrase memento mori – “remember you must die” – has become so true like the sword of Damocles hanging over my head always.

But, it was also during these past two years as a hospital chaplain have I discovered the amazing beauty and wonder of human life, of every person. It is only now at age 58 I have experienced the true meaning of a baby as “a bundle of joy”, of how great are the love and courage of a mother in delivering an infant. It was in our hospital where I experienced that life, indeed, is precious because it is fragile and vulnerable that so moved me in pity, even cried at seeing patients so sick, so close to death, whether a new-born infant or a 90 year-old. I am most thankful to God in making me experience his mysterium fascinans in our hospital where I am awed in the most wonderful way of finding how the human spirit fight for life, assert life and choose or find life rather than death. And when it becomes inevitable, that great wonder of faith and hope within in facing and accepting life’s end here on earth to move on to eternity in God, whatever name he is called by anyone.

*Photo by author, Sinai desert in Egypt, 2019.*

When I saw the news of that bombing of a hospital in Gaza, I felt something deeply different within me. At first, I wanted to get angry and curse whoever did that. What the Hamas did in starting this war was totally inhuman and unacceptable but whoever caused that hospital attack is bringing this conflict including humanity in general, to the lowest level. (It is still disputed whether it was an airstrike by Israel which they deny or a misfired rocket of the Palestinian Islamic Jihad they also deny.)

Every time I would see footages of Gaza’s overcrowded hospitals said to be at their “breaking point” due to great number of patients, I could feel as if my heart is being rend apart, teared into pieces because every hospital is like a church building or a place of worship were everybody is supposed to be welcomed to be whole again, to be healed, and most of all, to be cared at. Like churches and any place of worship, a hospital is a sanctuary for humanity, a hallowed ground where a burning bush of Moses is planted somewhere. Any act of violence in a hospital anywhere in the world is a total disregard of life and the human person, a sad reminder not only of our inhumanity but also of how can be “unhuman” too.

Very close in sound to hospis is another Latin word, hostis, meaning “enemy” from which came the words “hostage” and “hostile”. When hospitals are held hostage in war or any other situation, then it becomes a most serious and severe blow to humanity because it means we have closed all doors in welcoming each other, that we have decided to live on our own in total disregard of one another. I pray that wherever there is a war going on, enemies spare hospitals of their hatred where they can always feel welcomed and hopefully, be reawakened of our being brothers and sisters in one God we call in different names.

May our hospitals remind us this whole planet we all share as our one home is a sacred ground, whether in war or in peace, where humanity triumphs even in small packets because life is held holy and divine, a gift and sharing in the life of God. Amen. Let us keep praying and working for peace everywhere.

That parable of the wedding garment

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 18 October 2023

Photo courtesy of Fr. Herbert Bacani, Parish Priest of Immaculate Conception Quasi-Parish in Marungko, Angat, Bulacan, 15 October 2023.. When the pastor is properly dressed, his servers follow; surely, the parishioners are not far behind.

Thank you very much for the warm reception to our reflection last Sunday on the parable of the wedding garment when we took as cue the lack of sense these days of dressing properly even among us priests. So glad many priests reflected too along the same line in their homilies last Sunday. And the message is very clear: we priests have to set the example in dressing properly and decently at all times.

Methinks this deterioration in manner of dressing of people has a direct correlation with the clergy’s “undressing” of their cassocks and clerical shirts after Vatican II’s reforms they have abused and misconstrued into something else. No wonder, it started too the downward slide of credibility of clergy made worst by the reports of sexual abuses.

*Photo courtesy of Fr. Len Hernandez taken during our 25th anniversary with Bp. Dennis at his chapel, 18 April 2023.*

What a shame and pity when people comment how some priests not looking as priests at all at the way they dress. Some at the extreme have become so secular with their worldly fashion senses of designer clothes, jewelries even bling-blings with high end cars and gadgets who look like actors and models than priests while at the other end are those lost hippies or beatniks and rebels of no cause at all with their long hair, maong pants and sneakers in vain efforts to do liberation theology yet too far from the masses.

Again, many will argue our personhood does not depend on our outside appearances like clothes. Of course but not absolutely true! Jesus himself had taught us in the parable of the wedding garment last Sunday that dressing properly is an imperative because whatever is seen outside is always indicative of what is inside. If we, especially us priests, could not even look good outside, how can others believe we are good inside? Besides, if we could not even dress up decently for any occasion, how can we be expected to fulfill other greater things in life? Remember the Lord’s reminder, “The person who is trustworthy in very small matters is also trustworthy in great ones; and the person who is dishonest in very small matters is also dishonest in great ones” (Lk. 16:10).

When I was in my second year in seminary formation, our former teacher in elementary school, the late Miss Santiago saw me on my way to serve in the Mass at our parish church. When she saw me perspiring a lot, she said, “Naku, Nicanor! Iyang pagsusuot pa lang ng sutana pala e malaking sakripisyo na sa inyo? E basang basa ka na ng pawis.” That compliment by one of our kindest teacher has been etched in my heart ever since, teaching me that valuable lesson that our cassock in itself is a homily. That is why in teaching communications in the seminary, I have always insisted to seminarians that the priest himself – his clothes, his hair, his language and everything – is a sign of God before the people. Hence, I have offered them with these simple propositions:

If the priest is not that good looking and his homily is also not that good and then he comes poorly dressed during the Mass, what would people think? What an ugly God we have! Ang pangit naman ng Diyos!
If the priest is not that good looking, his homily is also not that good but his vestments are beautiful as St. John Vianney would say are a homily in itself, then people are at least consoled to have a glimpse of God’s beauty.
If the priest is not that good looking but his homily is good complemented with his beautiful vestments, people are blessed as they feel God is indeed so good all the time.
If the priest is good looking, his homily is well prepared and prayed for with his matching beautiful vestments, people joyously sing “alleluia!” in their hearts as they are touched by God.

In 403 AD, St. Augustine wrote a catechism manual for his deacon named Deogratias called De Catechizandis Rudibus (On Catechizing Beginners) in preparing candidates for Baptism. Its most important lesson is found at the last part of the thick book when St. Augustine told Deogratias to always remember “the teacher/catechist is the lesson himself/herself.”

In the same manner, the priest is always the homily himself whatever he is doing and especially wearing, 24/7. There is no way of dissecting our being a priest from our being individuals and citizens; everything in us will always be seen and measured in Jesus Christ our eternal Priest and Master. That is why last Sunday in the parable of the wedding garment, Jesus taught us also of the need to be conformed in him, to be like him.

How can we priests demand people to dress properly in coming to the celebration of the Eucharist when we priests are the ones shabbily dressed?

What a shame when priests give as pretexts for not wearing the prescribed garbs because of the hot weather in the country or to be more attuned with the people we celebrate Mass with like the poor. Where is our sense of sacrifice? It is as if saying we are awaiting autumn and winter in the country before we could wear our cassocks and albs and vestments! And for those who insist on being one with the poor that they wear the simplistic white chasuble and stole, I say it is a disgrace because those who have less in life must have more of God. Mahirap na nga sila, titipirin pa natin sa magagandang gamit at damit natin?

How can we be vessels of God’s grace and blessings when we are untidy and dugyot at the altar and after the Mass?

*Pinning and capping ceremony of our nursing students, Our Lady of Fatima University-Valenzuela City with our faculty members acting as Florence of Nightingale, 2022.*

Another pretext many priests use for not wearing the proper clothes in their ministry is practicality which is essentially the capital sin called sloth. How could a priest bless a car or a store or a house no matter how small they may be with just a stole without an alb and still get stipend meant in part so he can be decently dressed? Where is our effort in serving the people if not in proper attire?

The worst case of priests along with their sacristan not dressed properly is in the celebration of the Mass for a wedding. It is so unfair and unjust when priests do not take time to consider polishing the minute details of the Mass for God’s sake as his signs and channels of grace for those embarking on a lifelong journey in Christ as husband and wife.

In my 25 years as a priest, I have always prayed for my family and friends to also love my priesthood. I think the same holds true for the people who need to embrace our priesthood, not us priests! If you love our priesthood, then, you will love our cassocks and albs and chasubles and clerical shirt too. Demand that inasmuch as we must prepare our homily, we must also prepare for our vestments. Inasmuch as you help us to be good, help us to look good too in representing Jesus Christ here on earth, reminding you of eternal life and bliss.

We live in so different a time than before where sentiments against the Church and her clergy are growing. This situation calls us priests to strive harder as witnesses and reminders of Jesus Christ. And that begins with the way we dress, the simplest and most basic sign of our identity.

*Me during my conferral of the cassock, June 1991, Immaculate Conception Major Seminary in Guiguinto, Bulacan.*

One of my unforgettable moments in my vocation history happened in 1991 when I returned to the seminary, nine years after being told to leave in 1982. That Sunday afternoon after being conferred with the white cassock, I felt something so different inside me as if telling God like the Prophet Isaiah, “Here I am, send me” (Is. 6:8).

The same prophet reminds us priests whenever we wear our priestly garments for the liturgy and ministry of that great song to God, “I will rejoice heartily in in the Lord, my being exults in my God; for he had clothed me garments of salvation, and wrapped me in a robe of justice, like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem, as a bride adorns herself with her jewels” (Is. 61:10). Let us sing that song rejoicingly, heartily! Amen.

When life seems scattered

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 17 October 2023

This is a long overdue prayer-reflection, a fruit of one of my prayer periods during that week leading to October first when the gospel was the parable of the two sons (26th Sunday in Ordinary Time).

Jesus said to the chief priests and elders of the people: “What is your opinion? A man had two sons. He came to the first and said, ‘Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.’ He said in reply, ‘I will not,’ but afterwards he changed his mind and went. The man came to the other son and gave the same order. He said in reply, ‘Yes, sir’ but did not go.
Matthew 21:28-30

It was a Thursday, my day off I normally spend with a Holy Hour at the chapel of the PDDM Sisters at James Alberione Center in Araneta Ave., Quezon City. I usually present to God my Sunday homily every Thursday but that afternoon, I did not feel good. Maybe partly due to the weather that was so humid worsened by the afternoon drizzle. That was when I felt God telling me something about being “scattered” in life.

The word “scattered” has very picturesque translations in Filipino, sabog and kalat-kalat. Sabog is the direct translation of “scattered brain” or one who is disorganized and forgetful, could not think well clearly. Hence, sabog is also used to describe someone who is high on drugs or simply drunk and could not think seriously of everything. It came from the literal meaning of sabog which is an “explosion”.

On the other hand, kalat-kalat means the same as sabog, could not think well because one is disorganized and messy, the literal meaning of kalat that may refer too to trash and dirt.

Many times we are like the two sons who were both scattered because their lives were not in order, both so concerned with one’s self, forgetting their father including their livelihood which is the vineyard. Many times in life, we get so focused with tasks and duties as well as obligations that we forget our relationships, forgetting the persons for whom our work are intended. That is why we also feel at a loss as we miss our bearings in life that are our relationships with God, with others and with one’s self.

Both sons indicated strained relations with their father. The elder son outrightly refused his father’s order because he did not see him that important, perhaps due to anger and resentments he harbored against him although deep down inside, he loves his father. That is why he was bothered by his conscience and later obeyed his father to work at their vineyard.

The younger son, on the other hand, was also scattered because his ego was so bloated in appearing so good to their father. He readily said yes to their father’s order just to look good before him but never fulfilled it because he never really had that deep love and respect for him.

The first sign of being scattered, of being kalat-kalat is when we talk a lot that put us into trouble not necessarily with others but primarily with our self like the first son. We feel our inconsistencies and incongruence within ourselves with what we believe, what we know as right and good. We realize we are not walking our talk because of the great mess we are into, the mess around us like negative and other selfish thoughts that flood us. And all we wanted to do is to “pick up the pieces” of our selves, of our lives, and of our relationships. With God and with others.

Being scattered is something like a “soft depression” caused by burn out and lack of recreation and rest, a sign we have been losing grip of ourselves that we have to reassess anew our priorities and values in life. And always, the first person we forget is our very self as we get sickly, feel exhausted and tired easily, even grouchy and irritable for trivial even no apparent reasons at all.

First thing to do when we feel scattered is to naturally gather our self. Distance from our usual routine and people. Have that postponed medical check-up. And have quality “me time” like a movie or a short out-of-town vacation. We need to empty ourselves to be filled anew with God and his grace. Like Jesus, we need to go to a deserted place by ourselves, literally and figuratively speaking.

To gather one’s self is an invitation from God himself for more intense prayers to bond again in Jesus by laying aside all our plans and goals, forgetting all about ourselves even of others for a while to ask the Lord what he wants from us. It is easy to claim and convince ourselves what we are doing are for the Lord but the real thing necessary is that we simply do his works!

Christ had repeatedly said that “Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters” (Lk. 11:23 or Mt. 12:30). If what we are doing are the works of the Lord, there will always be joy and fulfillment. Even despite difficulties and exhaustion.

Overall, this feeling of being scattered is an invitation from God himself for us to put him back at the center of our lives and we start doing his works that are often simpler than what we envision and plan. Whenever there is this feeling of being scattered, I pray:

God our loving Father,
help me find my way back home
to you in Jesus your Son; 
many times I talk too much,
even write a lot about you
and for you but often,
they are for me too
and against others;
help me, dear Father
in this mess and disorder;
when you created the world, 
everything was in chaos;
breathed into me your
Holy Spirit
to make me alive again
in you and for you,
doing your work,
obeying your will
in the way you want it,
not mine.
Amen.

God listens to our prayers. Always.

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 10 October 2023

Yes! I have proven this most truest when we pray for the sick, especially for babies and children. And when we are also sick or, very sick.

The late Fr. Henri Nouwen said in one of his writings that “life is precious because it is fragile.” I have gradually grasped and experienced this most wonderful truth of life only these past two years when I was assigned as chaplain at the Fatima University Medical Center in Valenzuela City.

Every Sunday after Mass at the University chapel, I visit our patients to bring them communion (viaticum), hear their confessions and anoint them with oil. One of our patients last Sunday was a young mother named Rachel who delivered a sickly baby boy Saturday with difficulties in breathing.

Rachel was crying when we entered her room. After receiving the Communion, she asked me to visit and pray over her baby at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). I readily said yes to her request then asked her if I can baptize her baby and what name would she like to give him. “Daniel Steven, Father,” she said softly as she wiped her tears.

After putting on my hairnet and gown and slippers, the nurse led me inside the NICU where I saw two doctors and three nurses gathered around Rachel’s baby. Soon enough, both doctors came to me to explain the delicate – “toxic” – situation of the infant as we walked closer to him.

It was “solemnly silent” inside the NICU that morning with the warm light above the baby giving that holy feel like being before a Belen or a creche; the scene was so “disarming” that I just felt praying to God deeply from my heart, begging him to please bless and heal this baby who is much like Jesus Christ who was right away subjected to dangers upon birth in Bethlehem. I prayed too to God to remember Christ’s special love and concern for children, warning anyone who would harm them that angels look after them (Mt. 18:10) to keep them safe always.

At that moment, the baby opened his eyes – and sparkled as I saw his face lit up despite the little tubes connected to him. At that instance, I just felt something like a giant wave gushing within me like a tsunami and, boom! I burst into tears as if that giant wave inside washed me.

It was a very good cry, like a catharsis, so pure that seemed to have cleansed me resulting in joy within with the baby seemed to be looking at me, making sounds from his little mouth.

“My God, did he hear me praying?” I asked myself while standing there, praying with my arms still outstretched as tears rolled profusely to my face mask. After a few minutes, I wiped my tears and came forward to pour Holy Water on his head, saying, “I baptize you, Daniel Steven, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

I have visited many sick children in our hospital with the most unique even bizarre sickness and diseases and accidents. They have all moved me in pity but it was only Daniel Steven who had made me cry.

That moment when he opened his eyes and “looked” at me even though I knew infants could not recognize nor actually see, I felt God was ultimately the one really looking at me, listening to my prayers. At the same time, it was then when God fully opened my eyes and my heart to see him in baby Daniel as the One always listening to our prayers especially when we are facing dangers like death – the greatest and ultimate danger we all face in life. It is in such moments of great dangers when God is most closest to us in Jesus Christ who became human like us to be one with us in everything including death (but except sin).

Less than 80 days from now it would be Christmas but, have we realized this reality of how Jesus Christ have seriously faced death right after his birth being born in an “unsanitary” manger to being transported in harsh conditions to Egypt when Herod tried to kill him?

It is in sufferings and death when we truly experience the preciousness of life, the value of every person, no matter how small like a child or how old like any senior citizen. It is in the face of death when we are most human, truly and naturally weak and fragile that we also realize deeply, existentially the meaning of being alive when we are close to its end. That is when we feel life is precious because that is also when we feel it slipping away from us, slowly losing it.

That fragility of life is most evident when we struggle for breath, gasp for air, and reach out to someone’s hands to hold and clasp in order to rise again, to cling to another human and simply to be alive. From that we experience life’s meaning and value when it is shared and lived in God who is life himself through others. That is why we also feel closest to him at those moments when we see those sick and suffering and dying when we are close to God who comes most nearest to us in those grave moments.

Back in 2007 when I was in my first assignment as one of the teacher-administrators of a school in Malolos while we concurrently ran a parish, I felt burned out being there since 1998. One Friday afternoon during a Holy Hour, I begged God to give me one good reason why I should stay in that assignment when I was asked to answer a sick call in a nearby hospital. When I got in the hospital, the doctors and nurses were resuscitating the patient I was supposed to anoint.

Quickly upon seeing me, they let me come to the patient to pray over him and anoint him with oil. After that, I stayed in the room to watch the doctors and nurses struggled to revive the patient. Then another doctor arrived who turned out to be the son-in-law of the dying patient (also an ex-seminarian ahead of me in the minor seminary). After conversing with them, that doctor told them to stop the procedures as he would explain everything to his wife, the daughter of the patient.

Soon enough, the patient flatlined and died. His son-in-law called me and told me the patient had died and if I could bless him again. I did bless him again with Holy Water. As the doctor thanked me for being there at that crucial moment, I also thanked God for listening and answering my prayer in giving me a sign why I should remain in my assignment. What a precious sign he had given me, the first patient I have seen dying in front of me.

Now as a hospital chaplain, I have lost tracked of how many patients have died before me after praying and anointing them. But in each one of them, I have felt God present among us, saving their souls in eternity. But most of them, God had kept alive and healthy until now because he always listens to our prayers. Amen.

*Photo by Mr. Red Santiago of his son Cayden praying in our former parish in January 2020.*

*Daniel Steven is still in the NICU, fighting for his life that is so fragile, so delicate. And most precious. Doctors said these first 72 hours are very crucial. Please help us pray for him so he would get better and live life into maturity like most of us. Thank you.

Intensity of praying

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 20 September 2023

*Photo by Mr. Ryan John Jacob, December 2022.*

Every time we pray is a moment of grace from God, not only to the one praying or pray-er but most of all to others. To see somebody at prayer is a sight filled with great wonder and blessings from God because every prayer period is a divine operation.

Please don’t get me wrong. Whenever we pray and others see us, it always has an effect on them. Many times we have heard some people saying nasty things at the sight of those deep in prayer especially here at social media with ready templates casting moral aspersions on pray-ers as hypocrites and show offs. People who do that most likely do not pray at all, do not know anything about prayer. Most likely, they are a variant of the self-righteous Pharisee in the Lord’s parable (Lk. 18:9-14). Prayer moments are founts of grace not only for pray-ers but for others as well.

My point is simple. Just keep praying. Follow your inner leading to pray, to stop by a church or a chapel, to kneel and make the Sign of the Cross because every time we pray, our prayer is already answered by God. Not only for us but for others too.

*Photo by author, Our Lady of Fatima University, 13 September 2023.*

The other day I shared with you how my mother had taught us how to pray. Today I share with you an aspect of prayer I have learned from my father who witnessed to us the essence and beauty of praying.

As far as I can remember in my early childhood days until I have become a priest, my immediate, unforgettable image of my dad is being a man of prayer, a man at prayer.

Every morning before he would go to office, I have seen him praying in front of our altar of Christ the King and Sacred Heart. It was a ritual I have come to unconsciously imitate that would start with the lighting of candles before the sacred images, after which he would genuflect making the Sign of the Cross in deep silence and as he rose after a few moments of pause, that is when he pulls out his Rosary. That’s every morning before leaving for work he had continued until his retirement.

When he comes home in the afternoon, his ritual began with washing himself to change clothes before going to the altar with the usual lighting of candles, silent genuflection while making the Sign of the Cross. He would leave the candles burning to go down and join us kids in front of the grotto to pray the Angelus at 6pm while listening to Radio Veritas.

On weekends, he did the same routine in the afternoon. Daddy spent Saturdays and Sundays doing his two favorite things, cooking in the morning and reading in the afternoon. Oh, he read everything from old newspapers and magazines to his many book collections and finally in the afternoon, his two staple reading companions – that big, red Holy Bible and that little green book called “My Spiritual Diary” by the Daughters of St. Paul which I could not remember where I have kept.

*My mom and dad always together, our first teachers about God and prayer.*

When people ask me how my vocation started, I tell them my parents never encouraged me to become a priest. In fact both were surprised when I sought their permission to enter the seminary after grade six. But, I believe it was my father who unconsciously planted the seeds of my priestly vocation when I would always see him praying since childhood.

When my only brother Willy, our youngest, was born prematurely at eight months in December 15, 1973, dad gathered us three siblings in our sala downstairs near his big escritorio to inform us of his condition, of how he was very sick inside the incubator and would have to stay longer in the hospital for treatment while my mom might come home before Christmas. Then he told us almost in whisper as his voice would crack that we pray hard for Willy and mommy. We did not understand then what he meant to pray hard. All I remembered was how that night I saw him in bed alone as my mother was still in GSIS Hospital (now East Avenue Medical Center), staring at the ceiling as he held his rosary on his chest. Decades later when I was back in the seminary, he told me that was the only time he really learned to pray hard when Willy was born prematurely. I never understood dad’s words of “praying hard” except that like him, I have tried to pray always.

I have no claims to holiness for I am a sinner. And that is why I always pray even if at times I doubt my prayers or if God listens at all to me! But God never fails to console me at times when people tell me how they have learned to pray after seeing me prayed.

Parishioners notice us priests when we pray or not. Both here and abroad, I have heard lay people saying how they love seeing us priests pray because they are touched. Imagine that simple act of praying as a form of witnessing to Christ. What is wonderful is that parishioners learn to pray more for their priests when they see them praying which leads to more grace and blessings for everyone from God!

Of course, we pray not to be seen but prayer is our life as priests and lay alike. We are all blessed when we pray. Period. No one can judge if we are praying right except God. What matters is we keep praying. Hence, give us your priests those sacred space and sacred moments to pray most of all! Don’t invite us out at night anymore.

Though Jesus had instructed us that “when you pray, go into your inner room to pray in secret” (Mt.6:6ff), he does not tell us not to pray in public. What is essential in prayer is being true and humble before God, of going inside our selves – our inner room in secret – like in Christ’s parable of the proud Pharisee and sinful tax collector at the temple (Lk. 18:9-14).

Prayer is being one with God. We call it communion. It happens most truly when we pray and others see us that they too are moved to be one with God. And that is when communion starts to happen, when we truly follow Jesus as his disciples by praying together.

*Photo by Mr. Red Santiago, January 2020.*

He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me. Whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this faithless and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of when he comes in his Father’s glory with the holy angels.”
Mark 8:34, 38

For us to be truly the Church, the Body of Christ, we have to be a community of disciples at prayer. Together. In Christ, with Christ, through Christ. Amen. Have a blessed and prayerful remaining half of the week!

Twice lost, twice found. In Baguio II.

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 17 July 2023

*Photo by author, sunrise at Camp John Hay, 12 July 2023.*

If there is one thing I have truly learned and finally got convinced more than ever, never trust “media”: what you see and hear especially in social media are not true at all. I have known it all along having worked there. Have been teaching it too for so long. But sometimes, just because I was with the bagets and younger siblings who all relied with WAZE and Tiktok while listening endlessly to Spotify, sigue na nga, maniwala na nga ako sa media.

*Photo by author, Camp John Hay, 12 July 2023.*

And so, we got lost again on our final day in Baguio City.

But, still thankful for the experience, the fun and new discoveries not only outside but inside ourselves as siblings, as a family.

Went to bed earlier the night before hoping I could sleep longer in the city of pines. Unfortunately, I was already up before 5am, as usual, the following morning.

Sad to say, too, the weather is no longer that cold anymore in Baguio as before. Though the temperature readings indicated 19 degrees, I could hardly feel it except at about 2am.

Walked a kilometer with my only nephew Tommy and his mother, my sister Meg who enjoyed identifying the various plants and flowers with her phone app. She’s the only one among us four who had inherited our mother’s green thumb, a certified plantita as she would prove later in our misadventure.

*Admiring the “naturally” thriving flowers on a street near the Good Shepherd Convent in Baguio, 12 July 2023.*

After a sumptuous breakfast at the Manor House and endless pictorials, we packed our things to check out half an hour before 12 noon for the second most important itinerary of any Baguio vacation: Good Shepherd and Mines View Park shopping for pasalubong!

Traffic was not heavy when we went there, a Tuesday and Wednesday. And Baguio’s new traffic scheme with many “one ways” seem to be working well, even better than before the pandemic period.

We were supposed to visit the Living Gifts Nursery also in La Trinidad town but, WAZE and Google Maps seem to be at a loss where that is located that we ended up at the Bahong Sunflower Garden.

I was already getting impatient after several misses and turns, refreshing Google map over and over when on our third try, we saw signs to a tourism office and the Bahong Sunflower Garden.

That was when we decided to forget the Living Gifts Nursery as we convinced ourselves it had changed its name to Bahong Sunflower Garden after the TikTok reel was uploaded.

Maybe next time, TikTok should also incorporate a GPS app for its featured destination spots for directions. Or, I better stop acting as navigator at all.

*Photo by our youngest niece, Catherine Darla Lalog.*

There’s an entrance fee so minimal, not less than 100-pesos but again, the sights are worth all the efforts. And patience.

*Photo by our birthday celebrator, Bing-Bing.*

Of course, first thing we looked for upon arrival was the “CR” that was “comfortable” enough to make us smile and laugh in enjoying each other with nature made better by its cool, sometimes chilly, breeze.

*Photo by author, still at Bahong Sunflower Garden, 12 July 2023.*

We left Bahong Sunflower Garden after an hour with a lot of fond memories as a family. Shortly before boarding our car, Meg could not contain herself not buying a plant from there. And the more she became insistent after finding out what she wanted cost only 300 pesos which according to her could easily fetch a price of over 3000-pesos in Bulacan.

Despite protests from her kids that there was no more space for her second plant, like my mom, Meg found a way of arranging everything at the back of her Innova with still some space – just in case – like additional pasalubong along the way.

*Photo by author, still at Bahong Sunflower Garden, La Trinidad, Benguet, 12 July 2023.*

How true indeed that once in a while, it is good to get lost in our trips. After all, it is the journey that matters most and not the destination. Most especially, the company you keep. Primary of them is our own family.

Being the eldest in the family, there were times I wished I have an Ate, an elder sister, someone I could turn to in times of difficulties. Someone to look up to. Hindi yung ako lang palagi tinitingala nila especially after Dad had passed away in 2020.

But, up there in La Trinidad, I have realized that in life, it is not really about looking up and looking down. The only time we ought to look up is to God who is above all else and everything. Our semper major. The rest, in my view, is not about looking up nor looking down but of seeing more each one as a person, a beloved. Life is about seeing – not looking – to find the giftedness of everyone that has always been ever present.

Truly, “persons are gifts of God to me, that come all wrapped so differently” as we used to sing in our daily Masses in the high school seminary. This was most true as we left the garden when we have to ascend.

It was our only nephew Tommy who was most gracious and kind, and strong enough, to pull us up from the steep and sometimes slippery pathways.

Along the way, he found these plants which he called as nature’s “chocolate batirol”.

Despite his denials, he seemed disappointed when Camp John Hay’s Chocolate de Baterol was still closed when we walked there earlier.

We shall definitely go back to Baguio City to relax and unwind. And get lost again.

Thank you for joining us in our trip. God bless everyone! May you also have a great vacation soon! Amen.

Twice lost, twice found. In Baguio. Part I

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 13 July 2023

*Photo by author, Lemon and Olives Greek Taverna, Outlook Drive, Baguio City, 11 July 2023.*

We heard today the lovely story of the reunion of Joseph, a.k.a. the Dreamer, with his brothers who have sold him as a child because of jealousy to traders to Egypt only to find out he had become a minister of the Pharaoh years later in charge of granaries during a great period of drought and famine in the region.

Imagine the shame of the ten sons of Jacob or Israel in the unforgettable scene:

“Come closer to me,” he told his brothers. When they had done so, he said: “I am your brother Joseph, who you once sold into Egypt. But now do not be distressed, and do not reproach yourselves for having sold me here. It was really for the sake of saving lives that God sent me here ahead of you.”
Genesis 45:4-5

*Photo by author, Bgy. Alno, La Trinidad, Benguet, 11 July 2023.*

Sometimes, it is good to get lost. Literally and figuratively speaking. It is when we are lost that our faith is put to test and strengthened, when we pray hardest to God, becoming honest with our true selves that we summon all the goodness within and among us to finally find our way back on course in our journey and life.

And along the way, God shows us the other sides of life, of every destination filled with wonder and awe. Assuring us of his love and protection, beauty and majesty.

Exactly what we experienced in our recent vacation in Baguio City to celebrate my sister Bing-Bing’s birthday. It was our first time to be back in Baguio since 2020, except for Bing-Bing who still wanted to explore the charming city of pines again.

After a hearty lunch at Lemon and Olives Greek Taverna in the city, we proceeded to the Forest Lodge and left our youngest brother Will while we went to look for Rocky Mountain Adventure Resort.

Everyone in the car – my sister Meg who was at the wheel, Bing-Bing, my two nieces Dymphna and Darla, and only nephew Tommy have their total trust with Waze. I prefer Google Maps but as much as possible, I hate using these apps for the simple reason I hate talking and worst, obeying machines. I would rather “communicate” with persons for directions than rely on the voice in the apps no matter how lovely it may be.

Most of all, these apps lack dynamism. Totally passive without any room for mistakes especially from dinosaurs like me who know nothing at all with apps and gadgets. As I was typing our destination Rocky Mountain Adventure Resort, Google Map “suggested” Rocky Mountain Resort which I pressed!

It turned out to be a swimming pool atop the mountains of Bgy. Alapang in La Trinidad, Benguet! Who would swim late afternoon at 19 degrees?

After we have left the wrong resort in silence as it was getting dark, we asked around for the way out and ended up in rows and rows of rose fields in Bgy. Alno to the delight of everyone.

Though not everyone was able to get down from the car due to narrow streets, all fears and apprehensions disappeared as we imagined the hand of God still guiding us, comforting us with the beautiful sights.

After much prayers and laughters, we headed home, dropping by the famous strawberry fields that was already closed by the time we arrived. Fortunately, there were still some sorbetero left selling the famous strawberry ice cream advertised as “pampatibay ng relasyon”.

We all had ice cream to cap Bing-Bing’s birthday, praying for stronger ties as family as we found ourselves together laughing, and praying when lost briefly.

Will tell you our second misadventure next week.

Here is a video on our way to the wrong resort.

Promise ain’t enough

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 07 June 2023

*Photo by Mr. Paulo Sillonar, 07 June 2023.*

Celebrated Mass this noon in our Basic Education Department’s chapel with 19 students from our Grade 4-Visionary attending. They turned out to be the second batch of first communicants I have prepared since 2021 when I was assigned as chaplain of Our Lady of Fatima University (OLFU) in Valenzuela City.

While preparing them for our Mass, I was overjoyed when they still remembered most of the responses I have taught them more than a year ago that prompted me to promise them of treating them to ice cream after.

Naturally, the kids were so happy when suddenly, something flashed in my memory during my first year in the priesthood as prefect of discipline in our diocesan school in Malolos. During that time, I would go and visit our elementary students during their lunch break just to talk with them and see them. Many of them would invite me to join them to their table, even offering me their baon usually rice with adobo or hotdog. Of course, I would always tell them that someday, I would have lunch with them which I never fulfilled for a semester until a spunky girl told me, “Promise naman po kayo ng promise Father pero hindi naman nagkakatotoo.”

*Photo by Ms. April Oliveros at Mt. Pulag, March 2023*

Whoa! I felt like being kicked by a little Shaolin master on the face as I remembered it, forever etched in my memory in the early years of my priesthood that taught me to always have that palabra de honor in keeping my promises, no matter how simple and trivial it may be.

How sad that the saying “Promises are made to be kept, not to be broken” has become so ordinary like a cliche so memorized but never realized as nobody seems to fulfill their promises these days. Every day we read and watch of stories of unfaithful couples and lovers, of irresponsible leaders and officials betraying the people’s trust and worst, of clergymen not only disregarding but even prostituting their sacred vows of poverty, obedience and celibacy.

It all begins in childhood when we fail kids with our words to them no matter how simple these may be. Kids eventually grow up frustrated, disappointed and mistrustful because the grown ups never meant what they said, never keeping their promises. Thus becoming a vicious circle of children realizing promises are never meant to be kept that probably when they grow up, they take kids also for granted and never fulfilled their promises.

Promises have lost their sanctity, becoming a mere “carrot” to entice or appease even dupe everyone, from kids to grown ups into believing into something never meant to be kept and fulfilled. It is a very sad truth we have often made a reality when we carelessly promise things we are not bent on fulfilling or would simply forget.

Perhaps, it is not yet too late for us to strive daily in making true our broken promises, especially to the young like the children.

What moved most in fulfilling my promise to our Grade 4 students in giving them ice cream after our Mass this afternoon was when a little girl seated in front approached to inform me that they still have four other non-Catholic classmates who stayed behind in their classroom. She was so concerned they might not have a Cornetto later.

Ohhh… this time my heart melted just like ice cream in the sun.

First, again I realized how kids hold on to our promises. That girl in front must have been so convinced I would buy them Cornetto ice cream after. And secondly, I felt God touching me, consoling me, assuring me of a great future in the next generation represented by that little girl about nine or ten years old so concerned with her other four classmates left behind in their classroom!

Just an ice cream that would cost so little to me amounted to so much, maybe everything to that little girl. How amazing and lovely, is it not?

When I got to their classroom with four flavors of Cornetto, everybody was so glad I have fulfilled my promise, saying thank you as I handed each with an ice cream cone. And that was when I also asked them to promise they would be good, would study their lessons daily and would pray always. As I left their classroom amid their screams enjoying their ice cream, I felt humming this part of one of my favorite love songs by Daryl Hall and John Oates from 1997:

If a promise ain't enough
Then a touch says everything
Got to hold you in my arms
Till you feel what I mean
Know that my heart just tells me what to say
But words can only prove so much
If a promise ain't enough
Hold onto my love

What have you promised lately, to yourself and to others? Have a fulfilling evening ahead.

From YouTube.com.

Loving, suffering, following

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 05 May 2023
Homily on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of my friend and classmate,
Fr. Ed Rodriguez last 18 April 2023

Tatlong ulit tinanong ni Jesus si Pedro sa ating ebanghelyong napakinggan natin, “Simon, anak ni Juan, iniibig mo ba ako?” (Jn. 21:15-17). Hindi ko na po hihimayin ang kahulugan ng mga iyon bagkus ay hayaan ninyong ibahagi ko sa inyo tatlong pagkakataon ng pag-ibig na aking naranasan.

Una, katulad ninyo, ako man po ay nagmahal at nabigo.

That is one story of love that has the most impact on us. In fact, most love songs have this as theme like unrequited love, unfaithful love, of being unloved despite your love. And they are the most loved and popular love songs because we have experienced that when we truly love, there is always pain and hurting like rejection.

Pangalawa ay iyong iniibig ka rin ng iniibig mo. Yung mahal mo, mahal ka rin. Yun ang matamis! This is the love that has made the world go round and brought us into this world. This is the love why men and women get married because you are loved by the one you love. A very lovely kind of love that tells us may forever.

But there is a third occasion of love I just realized lately, shortly before we celebrated our 25th anniversary of ordination to the priesthood. It is the kind of love we all experience but many times we are not aware of. Worst, it is the love we always reject.

Ito yung minamahal ka na nga, ayaw mo pa!

I found this while counseling adoptive parents who complain of how their adopted children go wayward in life, wasting their lives and their wealth because what prevails over them is the rejection they have experienced from their biological mother who gave them away for adoption. They could not get over that fact and in the process, fail to appreciate the love lavished upon them by their adoptive parents. It does happen too to many kids these days who reject the love their parents shower them, complaining a lot without realizing how they are so loved. Many times, we are not aware of the many blessings we have in life, of being so loved by God and others without us even knowing it.

This love is most especially true to us priests too. As we neared this date, I have realized in my prayers how much God loves me with the many graces he has been giving me which I am not even aware of! And yes, there were times I have rejected his immense love in my many moments of sin.

This love of God is what we always reject, the love we could not accept because what we see more are our weaknesses and shortcomings, failing to see and realize God’s immense love that covers a multitude of our sins and defects.

This love is the most powerful and most mysterious of all when affirmed especially by us priests, enabling us to do so many things in the name of God like building communities and building up lives, not just building structures and edifices.

This love of God is the reason we are rejoicing today, celebrating 25 years in the priesthood of my classmate and friend Fr. Ed who has embraced and affirmed this love God poured upon us on April 28, 1998 at the Malolos Cathedral.

We can only truly celebrate anniversaries, whether priesthood or wedding, if we continuously affirm the love bestowed upon us by God, shared and nurtured by you our parishioners as well as by your spouse. That is why Jesus had to ask Peter thrice the question “do you love me?” because before we can ever follow Jesus, we must first of all love him. To love Jesus is to first affirm and embrace that love he has for us no matter how imperfect we may be.

Notice that a person who loves is always looking good, always radiant with love. This we see also in priests who are filled with joy in the ministry as seen first in their cleanliness and orderliness. Malinis si Father di lamang sa sarili kungdi pati sa mga damit, gamit at parokya. May amirol ultimo mga purificator, corporal at finger towel. Palaging naka-sapatos sa Misa. Maayos ang buhok. At hindi humaharap kanino man ng marumi o di nakabihis ng maayos. In him we find exemplified that elementary school lesson that “cleanliness is next to godliness”. And it is not just being clean outside but also inside.

When we love, we always go near the one we love. That is the first sign of love, a desire to get closer with the one we love. That is why if we really love God in the same manner we love others, we make every move to get close to him in prayer primarily. A priest who loves God, who loves his flock, who loves his vocation is first of all a man of prayer. Everything in the ministry and person of a priest flows from his prayer life. And you know very well when a priest does not pray.

The more a priest prays and gets nearer to Jesus, the more he is united in Christ’s sufferings. No wonder that when Jesus suffered and died on the Cross, there stood by his side were his Mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary and the “beloved disciple” because they were the ones who truly loved him.

When there is love, there is nearness. That is when sharing and oneness happen. When we love, we share in everything, especially our beloved’s pains and hurts. Before we can share in anyone’s joy and glory, we must first of all share in their pains and sorrow. That is the love of a priest. Being one with Christ, one in Christ at the Cross. That is why a priest is a friend to everyone, the rich and poor alike, the young and old alike, the sick and healthy, yung maganda at pangit, mabango at mabaho. People who love always share, are always one with others in their love and pains, victory and failures, weakness and strength.

All the more with us priests who share our lives with you as you too share your lives with us. Together we grow nearer to Christ on the Cross leading to Easter. However, it is not enough in love that we get near or close to our beloved like Jesus.

If we truly love, we must be obedient to show how far, how deep can we go with our beloved especially in their sufferings. St. Paul described this obedience of Jesus Christ to the Father even to death in a beautiful hymn in his letter to the Philippians as a process of kenosis, of self-emptying. This the Lord showed after their last supper when he washed the apostles’ feet. St. John beautifully introduced the scene by telling us, “”He (Jesus) loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end” (Jn.13:1).

Love cannot be defined. It has no boundaries. Most of all, love is always a packaged deal, all inclusive! Like any man and woman getting married who vowed to love each other “in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer until death do us part”, we your priests also vowed before the Bishop to love Jesus without measure by being celibate, poor, and obedient. Very understandable that priests have to be celibate and poor like Jesus; but, most of all like the Lord, priests take the vow of obedience too to prove the “breadth, length, depth, and height” (Eph. 3:18-19) of our love for Christ, his Church, and to everyone even enemies because it is very difficult to obey even to those we love after all.

How lovely that in Filipino, the word for obedience is pagsunod; an obedient person is masunurin, sumusunod.

It is also the word for following, pagsunod. An obedient person is one who follows because he loves, no matter how difficult it may be.

Now we can see the whole picture of that beautiful conversation of the Lord and Peter at the shore of Lake Tiberias: Jesus asked him thrice, “do you love me?” and after getting Peter’s “yes, I love you Lord”, Jesus described the apostle’s coming suffering and death before telling him, “Follow me” (Jn. 21:18-19).

From loving to suffering and finally, following. Everything begins in love, is sustained by love when there is suffering and following. Sometimes I ask couples if they say “I love you” to each other daily. Most of them would answer me with a question, “kailangan pa po ba yun, Father? Understood na po iyon.” Really?

Many times, we feel afraid, scared to say “I love you” because we know we do not love that much. And most terrified when confronted with the question “do you love me?” because deep inside, we know we have not truly loved. Do not worry. Do not be afraid. Just keep on loving no matter how imperfect you may be because love removes fear.

Most of all, Jesus knows that very well as Peter had said, “you know everything, you know I love you”. Human love is always imperfect. Only God can love us perfectly. But like Peter, in our unworthiness and defects, let us still say in words and in deeds, “you know everything Lord, you know that I LOVE YOU.”

My dear friends, Jesus is asking us every day the same questions he asked Simon Peter. To love Jesus is to love his Church, including his representative, his priest. Love Fr. Ed in Christ with your prayers and support. Give him the time and space to get nearer to Jesus in prayer and loving service to you. Keep Fr. Ed closest to Jesus. Not to you.

God bless you and best wishes, Fr. Ed!

It is always the Lord!

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 02 May 2023
Reflections on the occasion of my 25th year in the Priesthood

With our Bishop, Most Rev. Dennis C. Villarojo, DD after our anniversary and his birthday Mass in his private chapel; from left Fr. Romy Sasi, Fr. Arnel Camacho, Fr. Leonard Hernandez, the Bishop, Fr. Ed Rodriguez, and me. Not in photo was Fr. Joshua Panganiban who was sick and another classmate who had left the ministry more than five years ago. Photo by Fr. Leonard.

I first entered the seminary as a second year high school in 1979. When we were about to graduate in 1982, I was told to leave the seminary after failing admission to San Carlos Seminary due to the unfavorable results of my psychological exam. It was a very painful experience for me. It is only now on my 25th year of priesthood that I am coming to terms with that dark episode in my life. In fact, it is only now that I can admit it unashamed.

Making it doubly hard for me was when San Carlos Seminary Prefect of Discipline Msgr. Sunga refused to tell me the findings in my psychological exam except I would find it out as I moved on in life. And I think, I have found the reason. “It is the Lord!”

My classmates from UST AB Journalism class of 1986, from left, Lito Zulueta, Dante Santiago, Ellen Jurado-Cobarrubias, front Marie Ann, Luz Lopez Urquiola, Bel De Leon, beside me, Pia Pajarillo-Bantolo, Vilma Capellan, Rose Munoz-Landicho and Ross.

From that experience, I have realized that Christ comes to us even in the darkest moments of our lives. It is often when we have nothing, when we are empty that we are abundant in Christ. It is a mystery that continues to unfold until now! Difficult to explain fully. What was a setback and a dark spot for me before, that failure in my psychological exam has become more of a blessing later to me.

From the seminary, I went to the University of Sto. Tomas to pursue my first love, journalism. Everything happened so fast from UST where I had the chance to join the staff of the Varsitarian, covering the sports beat.

For my internship program, I trained at GMA-7 News to explore broadcast news. Immediately, I was amazed with the speed and timeliness of broadcast news with the constant clacking and ringing or sometimes whining of the UPI and PNA telex machines either from breaking news or when they ran out of newsprint reels. Luckily after graduation in 1986, I was hired by Ms. Tina Monzon-Palma as radio news writer for DZBB-AM and DWLS-FM.

With my co-staffers at the Varsitarian of UST, from left, Alane Ty, Jenny Bartolome, Sr. Gina Kuizon, Mother superior of RGS who was the assistant of Ms. Jesselyn G. Dela Cruz our Asst. Publications Director, Lito Zulueta of Inquirer, at the back are Romy the husband of Mam Jess and Jun Carnecer.

From a news writer in 1986, I became a reporter in 1988 covering the police beat on the night shift until 1990 when Ms. Jessica Soho recommended me to replace her in the the military/defense she used to cover after she was promoted to having a regular morning show, “Kape at Balita”.

I refused the position because I was so afraid of failing to measure up to Jessica’s stature but most of all, I felt not qualified of not having the voice for broadcast news. Yes, I have never wanted to be an “on-cam” reporter because I do not have the broadcast voice. Got no problem with that. That is why my application at GMA-7 was for a news writer. Again, it was the Lord I moved to become a police reporter at that time.

It is funny how I have always refused tasks that put me at the forefront since my GMA-7 days as a result of that “psych exam” in high school. Since college, I have found myself working best behind the scenes and behind the camera, working in hiddenness.

And yes, most of all, for lack of self-confidence. That is why I could not also believe when I felt God calling me to the priesthood again! And when I have become a priest, I have always wanted to be sent into the far-flung areas unnoticed but God would always bring me to major assignments like first, our diocesan school beside the Malolos Cathedral and now as chaplain of Our Lady of Fatima University with six campuses and two Medical Centers!

*Me in our old newsroom filing my report after the graveyard shift 1989; photo by Mr. Jack Taylaran.*

Going back to my vocation story… Every time I moved up in GMA-7 News, I would feel a reawakening or a resurging of my vocation. In the midst of the perks of the job plus the “celebrity” status, that was when I felt empty and unfulfilled! Something was missing in my life at the beginning I could not figure out. Tried to find fulfillment in everything including relationships but, I still felt empty. In fact, my vocation to the priesthood “pestered” me most when I was into relationships, feeling so praning with a voice within asking me “paano pagpapari mo?” As a result, I tried going back to prayers, then to Sunday Masses that slowly gave me some sense of fulfillment and peace within.

But after covering the December coup attempt of 1989 I felt something so strange deep within me: the more I felt empty within. Despite the adrenalin rush of covering the bloodiest coup attempt in our history, the thoughts of the priesthood would always cross my mind even without my thinking. It happened again the following year during coverage of the July 1990 earthquake. I was not feeling contented with my life. All I felt was a deeper longing for God and spiritual things like serving the people not just as a reporter. I felt God calling me to something more than covering the news but proclaiming the good news of Christ.

On my first day off after the July 1990 earthquake, I went to see my former minor seminary rector, Fr. Memeng Salonga for spiritual direction. He told me what I was feeling could be a vocation to the priesthood. My plan at that time was to wait for about five years before deciding for the priesthood. What if I were wrong again like what happened when I applied to San Carlos Seminary? Most of all, I had no more plans of becoming a priest. And I thought of running away from God like the Prophet Jonah, without realizing I ended up exactly like him!

It happened in January 1991 when it was my turn to join then Armed Forces chief Gen. Lisandro Abadia in his inspection of troops in northern Luzon. On our last stop at Laoag airport, one of the tires of our plane exploded upon landing!

It happened at the right side of the plane where I was seated near the window. Instinctively on seeing and hearing the explosion, I ducked my head down and braced myself for impact while deep inside me, I was frantically praying in silence to God, telling him, “magpapari na po ako, magpapari na po ako!”

That is why Jonah is my favorite character in the Old Testament as I felt like him inside the belly of PAF’s Fokker plane in 1991 trying to escape God’s call to the priesthood.

*My GMA-7 colleagues, from left, JJ Jimeno, Jimmy Gil, Boy Sonza, Jun Fronda, Atty. Dan de Padua, Kelly B. Vergel de Dios, Marissa Flores, Jessica Soho, and Ben Cab of PNA.*

When we got back to Manila late that afternoon, everybody was congratulating me, saying I could be the next Jessica Soho as I figured out in a near-fatal accident with the Chief-of-Staff. Behind my smiles was a firm resolve inside to finally follow Jesus. Weeks after Mt. Pinatubo spewed smokes in March, I gave my letter of resignation to Ms. Palma and simply told her, I was going back to the seminary to give my vocation a second chance. Mt. Pinatubo would finally erupt on June 12, 1991 when I was already inside the seminary.

*My first year in the seminary, 1991, after resigning from GMA-7 News.*

Life was not easy in the seminary. Temptations to leave the seminary and go back to work were most tempting during my first three years as I knew already where to go, what to do in life. Maybe about three times I have tried leaving the seminary while I was constantly warned of being sent out too!

The Portuguese have a saying that “God writes straight crooked lines.” True. Nine years after leaving the seminary in high school, I went back to the seminary in 1991 eventually being ordained in 1998. Now 25 years as a priest, I thank God for this most precious gift of priesthood. It is very difficult but most fulfilling.

As a priest and an individual, I have realized that if there are 8-billion people in the world, there are also 8-billion kinds of love God has specifically for each one of us. God loves us in the most personal manner. It is the greatest mystery in life we would never be able to solve because it is insolvable. We just have to live on it, be wrapped in his mystery that once in a while, like the beloved disciple amid the darkness of dawn, we would have glimpses of him, making us shout “It is the Lord!” Thank my dear friends for showing me always the Lord. Hope and pray you too have seen the Lord in me! God bless!