Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 20 August 2026
How amazing, O Lord Jesus that when it is already evening, when darkness is all around us, that is when you are actually inside us, if we could just open our hearts and eyes of faith then we shall see you truly our Light glowing within, bringing warmth and joy.
Many times in our darkness we lose sight not only of you, Lord Jesus but also of our self that away from you we lose our identity and let our job and tasks define us or worst, our possessions and achievements as well as pains and hurts; we cave into our darkness within not seeing your wounded handed touching me holding me unmindful of your holding me, loving me.
When things get dark and we can’t see anything teach me Jesus to listen to your silence to feel your presence sense your movements follow your steps waiting trusting self-emptying.
Most of all, Jesus, help me emulate your Mother our Mother too, Mary most holy, to remain focused on you cusping you in my palms when all is dark holding on to your words believing they shall be fulfilled when I remain and stay with you there on the Cross. Amen.
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 24 March 2025
Some people have been asking me how does it feel to be sigisty years old? I really don’t have any complete answer yet except the feeling of sudden shift in my perspectives in life.
Whether it is what experts call as the gestalt shift, I do not know. However, since I have failed in a psychological exam to the major seminary in 1982 that forced me to forget all about the priesthood momentarily (nine years), I have always thought of myself as “crazy” with weird thoughts and ideas, weird perceptions coming from weird images and illusions I see on many things
These manifest in my photography subjects that are often wala lang, as in trip trip lang talaga. Like in my recent annual retreat at the Sacred Heart Novitiate in Novaliches where I have been coming since 2016. Suddenly this year, my focus were so bent on the most ordinary features of this venerable institution that is about 75 years old.
During my stay there last week, the stairs, the windows, and the arches that are even older than me be4came so lovely and interesting. I felt so drawn to them that I had a lot of shots taken upon my arrival.
The Sacred Heart Novitiate is my “happy place” because it is my Bethel where I “dreamt” like Jacob of the stairway to heaven (Gen. 28:10-22). It is also my Peniel or Penuel (Gen. 32:23-32) where like Jacob I also wrestled with God or an angel in deep prayers every year.
In my previous article, I have explained that maybe my focus on the stairs was due to my excitement in awaiting the Netflix documentary on Led Zeppelin whose most famous song is called Stairway to Heaven.
Today, I share with you some photos I have taken with my weird perceptions of the Sacred Heart Novitiate’s windows that suddenly evoked a lot of ideas in me as a sigisty year old man so loved by God.
Being a new senior sixty cent only last Saturday, I felt the joy of being able to look at a very long past of both beautiful and sad even painful memories that have made me who I am today.
Despite the hurts and scars from the many battles in life, I am still glad and thankful for the gift of six decades.
Being a sigisty year old man is like looking out the window, marveling at how fast times have flown that many times, some scenes in my life are like some spots outside that look so near that are actually so far and distant.
I felt my getting old started the time I kept saying “40 years ago ba iyon” when commenting on an event or a song or a movie. Parang kailan lang pero matagal na pala!
Like in life itself, you can choose your focus when looking outside the window: you may include the window itself in the vista like a frame or totally disregard its existence and simply look at the world outside or the past itself. You may also focus on the sceneries you prefer, more of the lovely ones and less of the unsightly.
On the other hand, I have strongly felt too as I turned sigisty years old how my remaining days on earth are numbered. Looking back to the past seems an endless horizon while looking into the future is very definite. You can see already the end of the line, so to speak s you get that feeling my days are numbered. That is the moment when the eternal spring within tells you that at the end of that tunnel or wall is eternity. But, before that, you know the end is near.
The word “window” came from the Old Norse vindauga, from vind or “wind” that was pronounced as the English “wind” and auga for eye that phonetically sounded as “ow” that literally meant “wind-eye” that became the Old English word wind-ow or “window” as we know and use it today.
Hence, window became the term for an opening in any building like home that allows air and light to pass through. Most of all, it is an opening for people inside to see the world outside while giving those outside a glimpse of what’s inside.
How lovely is that interplay happening in every window that opens a person’s vista outside and inside. It is how one looks on windows that makes the great difference that eventually forms our perspectives in life.
About three decades ago, Bill Gates launched his company Microsoft’s operating system called Windows that greatly revolutionized our lives with computers becoming easily accessible for everyone. Unlike its funny looking predecessor called dost, Windows was aptly called as one had to simply click a box like literally opening a window to explore its many programs.
Windows – the real ones like in buildings – still present us with such great possibilities when we look outside or into them.
But of course, that still greatly depends on that one great window God had gifted us – our eyes that have both sight and vision.
Jesus told his disciples, “The lamp of the body is the eye. If your eye is sound, your whole body will be filled with light; but if your eye is bad, your whole body will be in darkness. And if the light in you is darkness, how great will the darkness be” (Matthew 6:22-23).
How unfortunate that many times, we prefer to limit the use of our eyes to just sights that limit our perspectives on what are simply obvious and visible.
Only a few called as visionaries dare to use their eyes to have vision, that is, to see and look beyond what’s visible and before us, whether from the window or into the window.
If we can have our eyes synced together with both sight and vision, then we shall see much more in this life that we become grateful with our past while at the same time filled with joyful expectations of the fast approaching beyond of this world as we age. Amen.
*All photos taken by the author using the iPhone 16 Pro Max at the Sacred Heart Novitiate, Novaliches, QC, March 17-22, 2025.
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 18 March 2025
While I was processing my many realizations and lessons about perspectives and point of view (POV) following our team-building activities over the weekend, the venue’s architecture fascinated me, particularly its solid design of the staircase. I felt they all conveyed to me the very thoughts percolating in me that day of how our perspectives affect our communications, for better or for worst (https://lordmychef.com/2025/03/17/on-the-road-to-my-60th-perspectives-and-pov/).
Where we stand on the staircase is our POV – above on top, at the middle stop or at the bottom part. But how we look at the staircase reveals our perspectives, either we are looking up from or looking down to the floor that can have different impact with others.
The perspectives and views from that experience in Canyon Woods Resort Club in Batangas remained with me until Monday when I arrived at the Sacred Heart Novitiate in Novaliches where I have been going on my personal retreat since 2016.
Stairs at the new Blessed Peter Faber Hall.
It was another lesson in perspectives. They were the same stairs that have been there for almost 75 years with some younger at 30 years which I have seen and walked on the past nine years but it was only now that I have recognized their unique beauty.
And lessons.
Stairs at the main and oldest building at the Sacred Heart Novitiate leading to its chapel at the second floor.
Things change greatly when we see them from the top and from below. The same sights can evoke fear and dangers, or joy of being challenged to climb the flight of stairs.
View from top upon exit from the chapel, same stairs, different perspective.
Perspectives also change especially when we use the modern apps in cameras and phone cameras today like the iPhone 16 I am using lately.
Access ramp at the Faber Hall directly leading to the modern Chapel of the Holy Family.
One can change perspectives by simply editing a photo to change its “mood” to soften or strengthen its impact. Or, change its color to the traditional Black & White I have always loved.
B&W photos evoke simplicity and mystery at the same time. They converse with viewers as if inviting you to provide the “colors”. See the “ironing board” or plantsahan under the stairs that remind us of home.
Our focus and point-of-view convey different perspectives of the same objects as seen from different angles. In this shot below of the side stairs to the dorms at the second and third floors of the Blessed Faber Building are very inviting as if leading you to light or enlightenment that is primarily the reason of most people going on recollections and retreats here.
There is the sense of openness, of opening to God too not only with emphasis on the light that falls on each step but also in revealing the back or bottom part of the stairs, there is the perspective of courage to bare what’s inside. Or underneath. A sense of sincerity.
What’s in a stairway? There were the stairs that caught my attention in Batangas because it was my first time to be there at Canyon Woods Resort Club.
But, here again in my “happy place”, my “Bethel” where like Jacob I “wrestle” with God in prayers every year? Why my attention?
Blame it partly to my anticipation for the coming Netflix documentary on Led Zeppelin whose masterpiece Stairway to Heaven had made a tremendous impact on me as a child growing up in the 1970’s.
During that time, I have heard older people saying rock music was of the devil but I wondered why, if Led Zeppelin was diabolic, were they singing something about the heaven like Stairway to Heaven?
Stairs to the second floor dorm of the Sacred Heart Novitiate, 17 March 2025.
Later on in Grade 5 and 6 in the late 70’s, I heard our religion teachers that included nuns at St. Paul College-Bocaue spoke about Jacob’s dream of a “stairway to heaven”.
Immediately, I realized rock music isn’t bad at all!
And so, after classes I would come home early enough ahead of my father so that I could listen to DZRJ-AM that played all the classic and modern rock music of that time along with Juan Dela Cruz Band and other Pinoy rakistas.
A cozy resting place for souls trying to reach heaven at the mezzanine room of a spiritual director, Sacred Heart Novitiate, Novaliches, QC, 17 March 2025.
Good that I did not listen to some aunts who insisted that I could not become a priest if I followed rock music which did not hinder at all my listening to God about my priestly calling. In 1998, I was ordained priest while still rockin and rollin’ with Led Zep, Steely Dan and other rock bands.
As a priest turning sigisty (60) soon and 27 years in the ministry, my perspective on stairs have evolved: as a priest, my job is to lead others to heaven – whatever song they may be singing. God bless everyone!
The Lord Is My Chef Daily Recipe for the Soul by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II Wednesday in the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time, Year I, 12 July 2023 Genesis 41:55-57;42:5-7, 17-24 >> + << Matthew 10:1-7
Phot by author, sunrise in Baguio City, 12 July 2023.
As we take a break on a brief rest today, O God our Father, let me call to you like the psalmist: “Lord, let your mercy be on us, as we place our trust in you.”
Photo by author, sunrise in Baguio City, 12 July 2023.
Give thanks to the Lord on the harp; with a ten-stringed lyre chant his praises. Sing to him a new song; pluck the strings skillfully, with shouts of gladness.
Photo by author, sunrise in Baguio City, 12 July 2023.
… the plan of the Lord stands forever; the designs of his heart, through all generations.
Photo by author, breaking of dawn in Baguio City,12 July 2023.
But see, the eyes of the Lord are upon those who fear him, upon those who hope for his kindness, to deliver them from death and preserve them in spite of famine.
Photo by author at the Forest Lodge in Camp John Hay, Baguio City, 12 July 2023.
Lord, we pray for those separated from their family and loved ones, by choice or by circumstances beyond their controls; we pray for those you send us to proclaim “The Kingdom of heaven is at hand. Amen.
All photos taken by author using iPhone, 12 July 2023.
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 10 April 2023
A photo-reflection of our rootedness in God while at the Sacred Heart Novitiate last March 20-22, 2023.
In the lush rolling hills of Novaliches
that is now fast disappearing are
23 hectares of pastureland and mini forests
inside the Sacred Heart Novitiate
of the Society of Jesus.
Thank God it had opened
anew its doors to retreatants like me
wishing to have a "vacare Deo"
or vacation in the Lord.
A retreat
or a vacare Deo
is a return to our roots,
God.
While preparing for the formal
start of my retreat last March 20,
I felt the roots of the many trees
speaking to me
in this Bethel of mine
where like Jacob in
Genesis 28:10-19,
I met God.
Sometimes,
I wrestled with Him
like Jacob too
in Peniel/Penuel
(Gen. 32:23-33).
How interesting
the words "true" and "truth"
along with its cousin "trust"
came from the old English
"treowe"
for tree.
According to experts,
the Anglo-Saxons worshipped trees
they called "treowe"
because they evoked firmness
and solidness;
the more rooted is the tree,
the more firm does it stand.
Like truth.
Whatever that is true, firmly standing
like a tree or treowe always has extensive
network of roots, creating linkages
and interconnections from which came
that image of the
"family tree".
When there are interconnections,
linkages,
there are relationships.
People with the most
wonderful relationships
are also the truthful ones
because they are trustworthy.
Reliable.
Like God.
Our root.
Our rootedness
who connects us with
everyone.
When we are rooted
and grounded in God,
nothing can ever disturb us
like a big, big, tree.
We can withstand all storm,
bear the sun's heat
remaining firm
and aglow
with God's majesty
in daytime and in darkness.
Lovelier than the tree,
thank God
for creating me.
Hallelujah!
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 21 March 2023
Photo by author, Sacred Heart Novitiate, 20 March 2023, Novaliches, QC.
Thank you for your birthday greetings. I have been on a silent retreat since Monday until Wednesday, my 58th birthday, at the Jesuits’ Sacred Heart Novitiate (SHN) in Quezon City. I usually go on retreats in June when my loads were lighter, when I feel so tired and exhausted, even burned out. Or when I have to make a major decision that I have to discern well.
For the first time, I went on this personal retreat not out of dire needs or even expediencies except that I miss God so much. This is the first time I went on a retreat without problems or issues to resolve. Most of all, without any complaints to God as I told my spiritual director, Fr. Danny Gozar, one of the Jesuits who facilitated our 30-Day Retreat in Cebu in 1995.
Sharing with you some of God’s consolations to me since Monday.
Photo by author, 20 March 2023, Sacred Heart Novitiate, QC.
It was the feast of St. Joseph last Monday because March 19 fell on the Fourth Sunday in Lent. Right away, God consoled me upon arrival here when the daily Mass was starting. The priest, the Australian novice master of the Jesuits said in his homily that St. Joseph’s mission to give the name “Jesus” to the Child to be born by the Blessed Virgin Mary is also our first task in life which is to witness that “God saves” which is the meaning of the name “Jesus”.
That is when I realized the silence of St. Joseph which is not just being quiet by shutting out all the noise; silence is fulness, trying to listen and discern the sounds within, the sounds that speak of love and kindness, of mercy and forgiveness, of the voice of God also the softest and faintest, telling us to trust him alone and not be bothered with what would happen next.
To be silent like St. Joseph is ultimately to be silent like Jesus on the Cross, wholly trusting the Father, loving us until the end.
Photo by author, 20 March 2023, Sacred Heart Novitiate, QC.
After lunch, I caught sight of the beautiful statue of Our Lady of Banneux (Our Lady of the Poor) at the side garden. It is one of my favorite prayer spots in this 23-hectare spirituality center in Quezon City. It was a nice spot to think of the many things I am thankful for since 2020 in preparation for my actual prayer blocks later that afternoon. And I had so many things to thank God since the pandemic started. First is the gift of life, that I have survived COVID-19!
The beauty of prayer is how it opens us to so many things about us we were totally unaware of like the gifts God has given us, the blessings he has showered us, the immense love he has for us. I discovered 20 things to be thankful for which I never thought I had and had never even thanked God for them!
That is the giftedness also of the Blessed Virgin Mary as she sang her Magnificat that while all generations shall call her blessed, she remains God’s lowly handmaid (Lk.1:48), remaining poor, an anawim who relies only in the Lord.
Being poor like Mary is being simple and empty for God. May we always be poor in need of God!
Photo by author, 20 March 2023, Sacred Heart Novitiate, QC.
Fr. Danny directed me to just pray that afternoon until evening Psalm 139:1-18, asking for the specific grace of Mystery, of God himself. And God answered me! I felt his presence and generally, there was the feeling of joy within as I prayed before the Blessed Sacrament.
“You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, so wonderfully you made me; wonderful are your works! My very self you knew; my bones were not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret…
Psalm 139:13-15
God confirmed my earlier reflections, the things I am thankful to him since 2020.
God designed me personally, he had a purpose in creating me and creating me this way which for so long I have not totally appreciated and liked, wishing I were somebody else, or endowed with so many other talents I so admire in others.
God made each of us so specially, not mass-produced.
He made us so well, almost perfect to reflect his glory. And along this is the need to take care of ourselves.
How can I be a sign of God's glory and majesty even though I am sinner?
Photo by author, 20 March 2023, Sacred Heart Novitiate, QC.
After supper, I felt longing for God that I went back to the chapel for another hour of prayer. I was a bit distracted, even restless at the start. Indeed, the most difficult prayer is always the most meritorious as I felt a deep intensity in the following passage:
Lord, you have probed me, you know me; you understand my thoughts from afar. My travels and my rest you mark; with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, Lord, you know it all.
Psalm 139:1, 2-4
God knows everything about us! There is no hiding from him. But, even if he knows us so well, he does not impose himself on us. Many times, God allows us to open up to him in our own time. Not just in his time. Like when we go astray, when we turn away from him in sins.
"you understand my thoughts from afar."
Even if I am far from God in sin, he still loves me, he still relates with me, understanding me. Waiting for me. Because he knows too that even if we sin, we still long for him. No one among us is happy being in sin. God knows that we know he is our life, that we cannot stay far from him for long.
"My travels and my rest you mark."
Where are you leading me, Lord? Sometimes I wonder if I am the one following God or is it God following me, watching over me that I always find my way back to him?
I have realized in almost 25 years being a priest, priesthood is more of a direction than a destination. From the school in Malolos to UST and UP for sometime then to Radio Veritas and nine years in a parish, now I am a chaplain in a big university with six campuses and two hospitals. Really, we were not prepared for this, especially myself! But, you are always there, God, leading me, always surprising me that even if you ask me to go anywhere else, I would go even if I have to learn a new language or whatever.
Here I found one thing I have always been remiss with – the need for me to rest in the Lord. To stop like this retreat not only when I have problems or overburdened.
At the end of my first day, my main realizations were -in Filipino as they dawned on me – were, first,
"Mahal na mahal ako ng Diyos.
Hindi lang basta mahal.
Kungdi mahal na mahal."
Secondly, as I prepared to sleep that night with all the lights out, I realized
"Mas nakakatakot maniwala sa Diyos
kesa sa multo kase
ang Diyos ay totoo,
ang multo ay hindi totoo!"
Thank you for your bearing with me. May God touch you, bless you, and heal you! Amen.
Photo by author, 20 March 2023, Sacred Heart Novitiate, QC.
Photo by author, sunrise at the Lake of Tiberias (Galilee) in Israel, May 2019.
Our gospel last Sunday spoke of the Risen Lord’s third appearance to his disciples at the Lake of Tiberias. No one, except the beloved disciple recognized Jesus standing at the shore after he had told them to cast their net to the right side of the boat that led to their plentiful catch of fish.
When it was already dawn, Jesus was standing on the shore; but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?” They answered him, “No.” So he said to them, “Cast the net over the right side of the boat and you will find something.” So they cast it, and were not able to pull it in because of the number of fish. So the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad, and jumped into the sea.
John 21:4-7
Photo by author, sunrise at Lake of Tiberias, May 2017.
I love the way it is narrated. What a wonderful interplay of realities, of John the beloved recognizing Jesus standing at the shore upon seeing the many fish caught in their net!
The story speaks of the beauty of every sunrise many of us seem to take for granted, of how so many of us miss the beautiful sight and silence of the morning. It is a story of every new day filled not only with promises but in itself a blessing we can surely experience when we first recognize Christ present in us.
That is perhaps one problem with us who always prefer spectacular sights and events to find God.
Unlike sunset, sunrise does not have radiant displays of colors and shades. It is very simple which is the lesson of Easter to us, of how our great God comes to us in the simplest moments of life. Recall too that Jesus was born in the middle of the darkest night of the year when everyone was asleep and rose from the dead very, very early in the morning that no one had seen! And here lies one of the wonderful mysteries in life – the hiddenness of God!
It is in God’s hiddenness that we can find him not because he is hiding but inviting us to be hidden in him too. That is the beauty of sunrise when you have to wake up early to see the beauty of life unfolding, awaiting something we are totally unaware of what is going to happen next. It is easier to wait for the sunset because you have been up and going the whole day; you just have to stop and pause for a while to await the sun going down.
Photo by Ms. Jo Villafuerte, sunrise at Atok, Benguet, September 2019.
Sunrise is different. It is like awaiting a total stranger, compared with sunset after we have befriended the the day about to end.
Every morning when we wake up, we do not know what is in store for us. Some people are excited, others are not while the rest simply got the blues or too lazy to work and study that they would rather sleep more.
Maybe that is why sunrise is more subdued with its hues and shades. Like God, sunrise is so kind, very accommodating with everyone, no spectacular display of colors so that one could buy his own time on whether to go out and move or snuggle more in bed, alone or with somebody else.
Like a beloved someone or God himself, sunrise looks soft and calm, reassuring everyone the day ahead would be just fine for us all.
Its light is so gentle, though bursting filled with life but never insistent to the eyes, so gentle. This we feel in our favorite word and activity every morning – breakfast – which came from the literal “breaking of fast” the night before by the monks in the monasteries. We can feel this gentleness of sunrise in that Christian hymn Morning Has Broken, whether you sing it or listen to Cat Steven’s cover or to its original Gaelic Scottish tune. And along this line, we find sunrise as the sweetest breaking of all in Angela Bofil’s 1981 love song Break It To Me Gently.
Photo by author, sunrise at Camp John Hay, Baguio City, November 2018.
Sometimes, sunrise can be a bit wild, bursting with light that can penetrate one’s soul with its light traveling so fast, eager to cover the whole surrounding with the good news of life coming.
Think of the Beatles’ 1969 Here Comes the Sun with its lovely guitar introduction, assuring everyone, especially your beloved “little darling” that “it’s all right” with “smiles returning to the faces.”
Photo by author, sunrise at Bolinao, Pangasinan, 20 April 2022.
That is the most beautiful part of catching the sunrise when all is silent with you all alone, listening to Jesus whispering, “Little darling, it’s all right” because whatever had happened yesterday, with all your sins and mistakes, are all forgotten and forgiven. Today is a new beginning, like what he told Peter in last Sunday’s gospel when he asked him thrice, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
Photo by author, sunrise at Bolinao, Pangasinan, 20 April 2022.
Peter was distressed that Jesus had said to him a third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep… And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me.”John 21:17, 19
John 21:17, 19
It is said that whatever one feels in describing the sunrise is one’s perception of love – warm and refreshing, joyful and so alive, filled with hopes and raring to go.
Sunrise is beautiful because it is when we experience closest with our truest self, with those most faithful and loving to us, and most of all, with God, our very root and being. Every morning is the fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophecy of each of us becoming a John the Baptist whose name means “graciousness of God.” This we pray every morning in the Benedictus (cf. Lk.1:68-79):
In the tender compassion of our God
the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the
shadow of death,
and to guide our feet into the way of peace.
May you be blessed every morning, every day of the week. Amen.
Photo by Ms. Jing Rey Henderson, sunrise at Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental, 27 April 2022.
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 12 April 202
We had a blessed happy Easter last year in 2020 despite the pandemic following the support of our parishioners to our activities since the start of the lockdown like the motorized processions of Palm Sunday and Good Friday as well as the online Masses.
Though we have to start our Easter Vigil while the sun was still up following the protocol rules, it was clearly an image of hope for us all especially when I carried the Paschal Candle into our church for the celebrations: Jesus the Light of world, illuminating us in the darkness of the pandemic.
It was the simplest Easter Vigil in my entire 22 years in the priesthood but most meaningful.
Very early the following Sunday before dawn in lieu of the traditional salubong, we went around our parish with the beautiful image of the Risen Lord generously lent to us since 2011 by Mrs. Baby Halili in hopes that the people would at least feel again the presence of Jesus Christ.
It was still dark but some people were already awake awaiting the passing of our libot before celebrating our Mass.
The lighted cross atop our parish church at the background during our libot of the Risen Lord at Easter 2020 during lockdown.
Most of the people, though, missed the libot of the Risen Lord that dawn that we did it again in the afternoon with the usual sights of people waiting on the streets for the blessing.
It was an amusing and unforgettable sight and image of COVID-19 last year,
an image of hope, and most of all,
an image of Christ Risen among us in the pandemic,
answering our prayers, never abandoning us even in the dark.
At the last leg of our libot of the Risen Lord with still an hour before the curfew, a soldier in fatigue uniform at a gas station saw us and left his motorbike, walking towards us with both hands up in the air.
I thought we were being told to stop. And worst, being arrested!
Immediately, I prayed to Jesus to not let it happen, that we were just less than 500 meters from the parish and soon it would be over.
I acted disregarding the soldier as in “dead malice” (patay malisya) by blessing him with Holy Water until we heard him closer, asking for blessings indeed!
It was an amusing and unforgettable sight and image of COVID-19 last year, an image of hope, and most of all, an image of Christ Risen among us in the pandemic, answering our prayers, never abandoning us even in the dark.
More unforgettable images of COVID-19, images of hope and images of Christ during the extensions of the lockdown last year unfolded before us after Easter. That was when I began to feel the emotional drag of the pandemic and lockdown as I lived alone in our parish rectory that was a mere oversized room at the second floor of the church.
It was the second extension of the lockdown when I felt during prayers that Jesus seemed to be getting “tired” with our “libot” of his Blessed Sacrament.
Most of all, I realized that if I felt dried and zapped despite my regimented lifestyle of prayers, studies, exercises and recreation during the pandemic right inside our parish church, how much more were my parishioners?
I just felt they must be worst affected than me!
It was very clear for me that prayers and online Masses cannot suffice for them as their spiritual nourishment.
That was when I decided to go out and bring Holy Communion to my parishioners after our Sunday morning Mass: I would announce in our online Masses the route we shall take so that people would wait for me on the main roads while observing the necessary health protocols.
We called it “walk-in Holy Communion” because after each stop of our tricycle, I would walk giving Communion to everyone waiting to receive finally and not just see, Jesus Christ, Body and Blood!
Eventually, when churches were opened and people were allowed to celebrate public Masses, we continued bringing the Holy Communion to our farthest and depressed areas every Saturday afternoon after our online Masses.
On the third Sunday of our “walk-through” Holy Communion, a family on board their van arrived just before we left the parish, asking if they could receive the Holy Communion after attending our online Mass. They wanted to get inside the church for the Communion when suddenly, a spark of inspiration came upon me — I told them to remain in their van as I gave them Communion through the windows!
And thus started our “drive-thru” Holy Communion for families and individuals who attended our online Sunday Mass and then proceeded to our parish where I would wait for them at the gate of our church from 8-830AM to give their Holy Communion.
Rain or shine, I would just put on my hat with my reliable volunteer Kuya Oliver driving his tricycle or assisting in the traffic flow of cars, vans, tricycles and even bicycles, we gave Holy Communion during those difficult months of the first year of pandemic and quarantine.
Sometimes, like the couple above, some people would chase us along the way, asking to receive the Holy Communion as they assured us that they have attended our online Mass earlier.
I was so glad other parishes did the same for our people so hungry and thirsty for Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist.
Did I ever get afraid?
Of course! Even terrified. But it was pure grace from the Lord we were able to do all those things in his glorious name.
Those images of COVID-19 have truly become images of hope and images of Christ that helped me forge on with my life and ministry through these difficult times in our history. They are forever imprinted in my heart and memory along with the people who made me experienced God.
Like the “beloved disciple” John – the patron saint of my former parish where these took place – who was with Peter in the boat gone fishing at Lake Tiberias before the ascension of Jesus, every time I remember those images of last year or see similar ones, I silently exclaim like him “It is the Lord!” (John 22:7).
Come April 13, 2021, I will log my 365-day streak at http://www.lordmychef.com publishing prayers, reflections, homilies, poems, and essays since Easter Monday last year when I thought of helping the spiritual nourishment of people unable to come to celebrate the Mass.
When I was assigned to my new assignment as chaplain of Our Lady of Fatima University and Fatima University Medical Center last February 15, I felt the same thing in my prayers: help in enriching the spiritual lives of the flock Jesus entrusted to me at this time of the pandemic by learning all these new technologies like Zoom and webinars as well as Facebook live and this daily blog. From still pictures as images of hope and of Christ, we now have moving images of hope and of Jesus Christ!
But, with or without modern technology, and even after this pandemic, the challenge of Easter remains that we continue to proclaim the joy and saving presence of the Risen Lord Jesus Christ among peoples, “in season and out of season” like St. Paul (2Timothy 4:2).
That is something we all have to work for even now, being images of hope and of Christ to the world. Amen.
From Facebook, 04 April 2021: “There is an urgency to announce the Joy, the joy of the Risen Lord.”
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 09 April 2021
Photo by author after celebrating “private Mass” first day of lockdown last year, 18 March 2020.
The reality – and gravity – of the lockdown hit me most that Wednesday morning when I celebrated Mass alone. Without the usual faces and voices of our regular Mass goers who greeted me daily upon opening our church door since I came to my former parish in 2011, I just felt something so unique.
And special.
It was as if Jesus was making some “lambing” (tender moments) with me as his priest.
For so long, I have been celebrating Mass on weekdays with at least five people present that there were times it had become mechanical like a routine, sometimes even like a “show” that it has to be good so that I look good, sound good, and everybody feels good.
But on that first day of the lockdown, as I prepared everything from removing the altar cover to bringing out the books and sacred vessels to celebrating “alone” with some birds keeping me company, I somehow felt Jesus most truly present.
Just him and me, at his altar, in his church.
Photo by author, two birds after my private Mass during the lockdown last year.
That was how I realized deep within me the beauty and sanctity of the Holy Mass not in the external things we see and hear but most of all in my intimacy and union with Jesus Christ as his priest.
With or without the congregation, every Holy Mass is the summit of the priest’s life and very existence because that is where his union in Jesus Christ our Eternal Priest is most true.
The way the priest celebrates the Mass – his disposition, his attitude, the way he looks and keep things in order – all indicate his oneness with Jesus Christ. Liturgy flows from the heart of the priest and from that springs our social action and involvement.
How sad when some priests has made the lockdown an excuse not to celebrate the Mass at all.
In depriving himself of the essential union with the Lord and Master, in effect he has deprived his flock the much needed strength from the Good Shepherd.
Even without the pictures and videos of the priest celebrating the Mass sine populo (without the people), that is the most wonderful and most treasured image of COVID-19 only God sees because it is the most sublime image of his Son Jesus Christ present amid this pandemic.
Every word in the Lectionary and the Sacramentary, every moment of that private Mass during the lockdown was like a “cosmic experience” where the eternal and the temporal converge as if time stands still, with these words echoing in the silence of the universe within me:
"...you never cease to gather a people to yourself,
so that from the rising of the sun to its setting
a pure sacrifice may be offered to your name."
(Eucharistic Prayer III)
Images of COVID-19,
Images of Hope,
Images of Christ
Two Sundays after the lockdown last year came the Holy Week ushered in by Palm Sunday when we went around the parish blessing the palms and fronds of people who have gathered on the streets after our announcement in Facebook and online Mass.
Skies were overcast that morning that we decided to visit first the other end of our parish, Purok Gulod, where we experienced rains and saw the beautiful rainbow the other Sunday.
Nobody saw the lockdown coming. Most of the people did not have the ready-made palms and instead had branches of leaves and fronds available in their surroundings which we blessed while on board our borrowed Ford F-150 after the Mass that morning attended by a few parish volunteers.
But the most touching images of COVID-19 that Holy Week last year happened on the Good Friday procession of the Santo Entierro we have mounted on a truck, brought around the parish after the Veneration of the Cross at 3PM.
From images of COVID-19 as images of hope, the sights have transformed into images of Christ suffering and dead among the people who knelt and prayed while others cried on the streets during procession.
Since it was a Good Friday when there was no holy water, I brought the crucifix with which to bless the people not only on the streets but also those in their vehicles passing by during the procession.
It was very edifying.
How I felt Jesus described in the gospel while going around preaching the good news to all towns and villages:
At the sight of the crowds,
his heart was moved with pity for them
because they were troubled and abandoned,
like sheep without a shepherd.
(Matthew 9:36)
Passing through Purok Gulod where people lighted candles too.
With Kuya Ver sounding the matraca to alert the people…
With Kuya Leonardo the caretaker of the Santo Entierro. Since I came there in 2011, he always brought along the children from their Purok Gitna to pray the Rosary aloud. After each mystery, we would sing some religious songs with “Kristo” as their favorite, singing in unison, “Kristo, Kristo bakit minsan ka lang nakikilala…”
I can still remember my short homily during that Good Friday’s Veneration of the Cross: I told the people that while we were so sad with what was happening due to the pandemic, Jesus was surely more sad with what was going on in the world, in our parish community.
It was a very meaningful Good Friday after all when as the sun set, God reassured me anew and I think everybody else in our parish that we were not alone. We have him as company, consoling us in this time of the pandemic with the beautiful sights of everyone out in the streets praying.
Yes, they are images of COVID-19 but also images of hope.
Most of all, images of Christ among us, suffering and dying first among us in our community during the pandemic.
Join us again on Monday with more images of COVID-19 as images of hope and images of Christ risen among us!
It was a Tuesday within the Octave of Easter under our first – and world’s longest – Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ) when I started this prayer blog based on the Mass readings as a “spiritual recipe” for tired and weary souls at that time when churches were closed and public Masses were not allowed.
It was pure grace that I was able to keep it daily until now in my new assignment, never running out of inspiration from God for my prayers, poems, essays and reflections, and the usual Sunday homilies I have been sharing via email since 2003.
Some of my inspirations came from unforgettable images of COVID-19 that went viral on Facebook and the news that for me were “images of hope” of the Risen Christ reminding us of his presence during this pandemic.
They are images of hope because they tell us modern Easter stories of holiness and kindness, love and sacrifice among ordinary people willing to share Jesus in their very selves for others in need.
And this photo tops them all!
From Facebook, 25 March 2020.
I got this from the Facebook by a church-beat reporter who personally met the photographer who took that shot and interviewed the banana vendor.
What a beautiful reminder of the poor widow praised by Jesus who gave “two small coins worth a few cents” into the temple collection box, saying: “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood” (Mk.12:43-44).
My initial reaction upon seeing this image of COVID-19 was how the world never runs out of many good people, who give without expecting anything in return: “may mga tao pa rin palang tunay at dalisay ang pagmamahal at hindi naghihintay ng kapalit.”
I wonder where is that vendor now and what has happened to him. Surely, God must have blessed him abundantly!
A week before the lockdown that March 2020, another set of images appeared on Facebook of a beautiful story of miracle in the supermarket.
According to the Facebook post that became viral, people were panic buying following rumors of a lockdown to be imposed due to the pandemic.
A young lady waiting at the long line to the counter noticed a man had only a basket containing a handful of grocery items.
She turned out to be a “fairy godmother” who offered the manong to get more goods for his family assuring him she would pay for them.
Manong was hesitant at first, very shy with the kind offer by the young lady until he acceded, getting a few more canned goods.
According to the post by an eye-witness, the “fairy” asked manong again to get more goods, saying “dagdagan pa po ninyo at babayaran ko.”
That was when miracle happened…
Some of those at the counter were infected with a holy virus by the young lady’s generosity.
One by one, each customer gave manong a can or an item of their purchases so that he had a basket full of goodies to take home for his family!
Indeed, love begets love begets love… it is the kind of good virus I am sure still happening today even without being reported in social media.
What a beautiful modern version of Jesus Christ’s feeding of 5000 in the wilderness when everybody shared their baon with others (Jn.6:1-15) that filled everyone to his/her delight with still plenty of leftovers.
I turned 55 on March 22, the first Sunday of the start of last year’s lockdown, the fifth Sunday of Lent. It was also the first time we went online with our Mass that morning when I called on the people to wait outside their homes later at 3PM – while maintaining health protocols – for the “paglibot” (motorized procession) of the Blessed Sacrament in our Parish at Barangay Bagbaguin made up of ten purok.
How my heart was moved at the sight of people, young and old, rich and poor alike, kneeling on the streets with some crying, adoring Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament!
Truly the images of hope that have sustained and blessed our parishioners at Bagbaguin with the lowest incidence of COVID infections and deaths that year in the whole town of Santa Maria, Bulacan!
Photo by Mr. Ryan Cajanding.
But the most beautiful image of hope for me that day was the appearance of a rainbow before the end of our “libot” of the Blessed Sacrament.
We were at the last leg of our “libot” when it started to rain with our volunteers asking whether we would still go to the next purok of Gulod or not. From the back of our truck with both my hands holding the big monstrance, my response was adamant: we proceed even if it rains!
I knew we have brought plastic to cover and protect the Blessed Sacrament from the rains and I felt what mattered most then were the people to have a glimpse of Jesus in their most difficult trials in life.
Lo and behold, after a few minutes, the rains stopped and a rainbow appeared at the horizon!
Tears rolled down to my cheeks saturated with perspirations as I held the big monstrance.
I could not contain the joy within my heart as I thanked God for the grace of that moment, of sending us with a rainbow to assure us like during Noah’s time that he would keep his promise never again to destroy earth with floods or with virus, that we would be safe during this pandemic.
It was the best birthday gift I ever had in recent years that made me decide to continue that practice of libot of the Blessed Sacrament every Sunday while public Masses were not allowed during the lockdown.
What are your images of COVID-19 that were images of hope that sustained you in this year-old pandemic?
Join us again this Friday with more images of COVID-19 and this time, images of Christ among us!
*Other photos by Ms. Ria De Vera and Ms. Anne Ramos of our Parish Commission on Social Communications.
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