Eccl 3:1-11
There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every thing under the heavens.
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them;
a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to be silent, and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace.
What advantage has the worker from his toil?
I have considered the task that God has appointed
for the sons of men to be busied about.
He has made everything appropriate to its time,
and has put the timeless into their hearts,
without man’s ever discovering,
from beginning to end, the work which God has done.
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"He has made everything appropriate to its time,
and has put the timeless into their hearts,
without man’s ever discovering,
from beginning to end, the work which God has done."
People who have been reading my entries in the past say that I am "wordy" when I write. The constant attempt at improving one's writing style is indeed a lifelong journey, and I do not hesitate to take pride at how God has allowed my writing to evolve.
First of all, I am not what people would consider to be an accomplished writer. I have long tried my best to get into competitions, but to no avail. I would often write what I feel my soul drives me to write, often using more than one clause within a sentence to explain a point. Like what I just did.
Unlike most children my age, I was brought up sheltered within the confines of our home, enriched by the books made available to me. My siblings may have engaged in play more often; I often found myself practicing my handwriting or reading a good book instead. Throughout my childhood people would point at me as though I was from another planet.
Well, not entirely. I did play childhood games. I loved playing doctor, playing the traditional Filipino games taguan (hide and seek), patintero, tumbang preso, jackstone and marbles even, but took things sourly in defeat. Which was more frequent than usual.
I guess the time I would have spent practicing the skills necessary to win those games went to reading books. About different countries. About inventions. About religion. About Japanese and Korean writing. About music. About flags and geography. About history. About journalism. About medicine.
But I read not for the sake of passing exams or being able to answer teachers' questions. I loved to read because I wanted to know more. And I wanted to be a better person with the things I had the privilege to read about.
Just this morning I presented a case on cough, while my case partner discussed acute epiglottitis, an inflammatory condition affecting the epiglottis, that movable flap of cartilage supposedly protecting the airway from choking while swallowing.
I was asked questions to which I only grimaced in a vain attempt to answer them.
It is during these kind of moments when I am sometimes doubtful about whether I should have chosen medicine or not. After all, I was about to be a computer science professional, and I had planned to become a specialist in the organizing of various forms of information on the web. God may only have the answers, but I am still confused why I have to take up medicine.
It wasn't really an expected option: I chose Computer Science as my major and had only passed an accelerated medical course intended for people who checked a small box on my application form to enter the University of the Philippines. It was such an unexpected outcome that my scores in the admission test happened to make it to the cut-off. "Are you interested in an accelerated program leading to Medicine?" it said.
Nonetheless, I am still wondering why I seem to have a different take on various seemingly ordinary things. I am still wondering why I seem not able to join when my classmates have fun in each other's company. And I am still wondering why most of the group conversations I have been with others only involve me as an observer. I have seen only a few people sharing the varied interests I have, and they're very far from reach.
But despite my seemingly dysfunctional social behavior, I love sharing experiences and passions to the people I find myself most comfortable to be with. Somehow I feel I am still blessed because God has at least given me the chance to meet people tolerant enough of my mood changes.
Often whenever I write something about my personality and my personal struggles to address my self-issues, I expect myself to cringe after reading these entries in a month or so. I often expect telling to myself how emotional I have become and how mushy I write.
People who are often faced with various problems are usually told to increase their social interaction. But people aren't always comfortable with the people around them to upgrade their erstwhile low level of interaction with them. One cannot force and expect a particular person to warm up with the people he wouldn't ordinarily deal with. Somehow this is my struggle. I find some people not particularly favorable warming up to.
Which leads me to the vocation. I feel that if I am really called to ministry, I have to learn being a brother to all around me. Just as how a doctor should be a doctor to all*.
It will take both skill and prayers to really pull this off. I guess it is not an excuse to be overly conscious of how one feels comfortable with the people around him--for no matter how seemingly unfriendly the people around me be, if ever I become a priest, I must be a priest to all. I must be an example, a holy one, to all.
My previous blog posts all dwell on this particular theme: changing oneself to serve God better and prepare for responding to the call. I pray once again that with this attempt at further getting to know myself, I may learn to do things the right way one step at a time.
Burn within us, holy fire, so that, chaste in body and pure of heart, we may deserve to see God.
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Saint Ignatius of Loyola, pray for us.
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*From an interview with a fraternity brod of mine, Dr. Ting Tiongco, a surgeon and social mobilizer from Davao. He just published his book Surgeons Do Not Cry, available at the University of the Philippines (UP) Press, chronicling his experiences as a UP medical student, hospital resident and young surgeon. Like most great people I have known personally, he is Jesuit-trained: finishing his elementary and high school years at the Ateneo de Davao and his pre-medical course at the Ateneo de Manila.
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Today is the feast day of Saints Cosmas and Damian, patrons of medicine. I pray for their intercession that they help us medical students and professionals increase our faith and perseverance in our journey towards becoming true healers with Christian character.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Have I Awaken Up?
Lk 9:7-9
Herod the tetrarch heard about all that was happening,
and he was greatly perplexed because some were saying,
“John has been raised from the dead”;
others were saying, “Elijah has appeared”;
still others, “One of the ancient prophets has arisen.”
But Herod said, “John I beheaded.
Who then is this about whom I hear such things?”
And he kept trying to see him.
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Brothers and sisters, after so long I have posted once again here in this blog. And there are many reasons why I think I didn't make time writing to this beloved repository of my spiritual experiences, one of them is this: I was too desperate to find a quick solution to an already deepening sense of sorrow over some of my circumstances. I became addicted to a very selfish way of forgetting one's problems and experiencing pleasure in the things I see and imagine.
Nonetheless, despite the feeling of being able to substitute the urge for spiritual and emotional release for something of a more impure one, still it was those times that I wanted to cry, to talk to persons who would best understand the yearnings of my heart, something that only those with whom I share this vocation thing in common would quite understand well.
My yearning to be a priest suddenly obscured itself from my view. I knew it was still there within my heart during those trying, testing moments, but it was too within me to be extracted out so that I may extract from it likewise the strength to carry on. The pain needing to be quenched was quite too much for me to bear. I don't know how to express these things to others, because I have grown into adulthood with a notion of not exposing one's emotions too much. I did not like to be someone else's emotional burden. I deemed myself too unworthy of that.
That is why, too often I would just choose to keep quiet, and let everything run its due course. I refuse answering people asking me how things are going. I have such an expressive face--people instantly sense that something may be going on in me, but I try to dismiss their assumption as nonsense--after all, they shouldn't know me better than I do. Or do they?
I really appreciate the effort of people around me to make things feel better for me. But I don't know how I can ever repay them or at least show them the appreciation due them. I may smile to the point of leading others to tell me how exaggerated my smile is. But just this afternoon, while my classmates in hospital duty took our block picture, I smiled, but saw myself very differently from how I would see myself when I am ordinarily happy, excited, enthusiastic with what God has to offer for the next day ahead.
I really don't know how to look at myself recently. I am happy somewhat after rereading my entries here. But I thought about how even the greatest of saints struggled in their own spiritual droughts. I am praying for the grace to still hang on no matter what the circumstances may lead me to do. I think I have been given a snapshot of how it is to let go and not get hold of God's steering Hand. It was unimaginable, horrible, and very lonely. It may have given my inner passions a chance at being tried, being tested for what I thought was my own good. After all, many people may have tried more things than the things I myself have ever tried.
But is it the number of experiences that make us better people? Experience may be the best teacher, but what do those experiences teach us?
I still want to cry. For almost a month, two months even. I haven't shed a single tear in such a long time I wanted to cry out to God for help and despair. I yearn the embrace of people who truly care for what God does for people who strive to follow Him in the fullness of the priesthood He has bestowed upon His people.
I now attempt at listening to the music which has stirred my heart in the past and drove my eyes to shed tears of reflection, happiness and the ecstasy of hearing the voice that I perceive from God speaking within me. Nothing like that still happens, except that at least wonderful fact that I'm back at listening these prayers set to music.
Not the worldly noises, the depraved stories or the profane scenes of those days when I tried to quench that spiritual thirst with something else.
"John has risen from the dead." In fact, it was Jesus who made Himself known to the world around Him. People were actually thinking He was John the Baptist resurrected from the dead.
Honestly, it is quite hard for me to connect my personal sharing today with today's Gospel reading, something I usually do in my blog posts. I may have been given the first step to get out of that rut, but slowly I walk the water to Christ. Having enough faith to get me through and actually reaching Christ is another matter.
But I am really happy nonetheless that Jesus will be there to pick me up, as He did to His apostle Peter.
Burn within us, holy fire, so that chaste in body and pure in heart, we may deserve to see God.
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Saint Aloysius Gonzaga, pray for us.
Herod the tetrarch heard about all that was happening,
and he was greatly perplexed because some were saying,
“John has been raised from the dead”;
others were saying, “Elijah has appeared”;
still others, “One of the ancient prophets has arisen.”
But Herod said, “John I beheaded.
Who then is this about whom I hear such things?”
And he kept trying to see him.
{}{}{}{}{}{}{}
Brothers and sisters, after so long I have posted once again here in this blog. And there are many reasons why I think I didn't make time writing to this beloved repository of my spiritual experiences, one of them is this: I was too desperate to find a quick solution to an already deepening sense of sorrow over some of my circumstances. I became addicted to a very selfish way of forgetting one's problems and experiencing pleasure in the things I see and imagine.
Nonetheless, despite the feeling of being able to substitute the urge for spiritual and emotional release for something of a more impure one, still it was those times that I wanted to cry, to talk to persons who would best understand the yearnings of my heart, something that only those with whom I share this vocation thing in common would quite understand well.
My yearning to be a priest suddenly obscured itself from my view. I knew it was still there within my heart during those trying, testing moments, but it was too within me to be extracted out so that I may extract from it likewise the strength to carry on. The pain needing to be quenched was quite too much for me to bear. I don't know how to express these things to others, because I have grown into adulthood with a notion of not exposing one's emotions too much. I did not like to be someone else's emotional burden. I deemed myself too unworthy of that.
That is why, too often I would just choose to keep quiet, and let everything run its due course. I refuse answering people asking me how things are going. I have such an expressive face--people instantly sense that something may be going on in me, but I try to dismiss their assumption as nonsense--after all, they shouldn't know me better than I do. Or do they?
I really appreciate the effort of people around me to make things feel better for me. But I don't know how I can ever repay them or at least show them the appreciation due them. I may smile to the point of leading others to tell me how exaggerated my smile is. But just this afternoon, while my classmates in hospital duty took our block picture, I smiled, but saw myself very differently from how I would see myself when I am ordinarily happy, excited, enthusiastic with what God has to offer for the next day ahead.
I really don't know how to look at myself recently. I am happy somewhat after rereading my entries here. But I thought about how even the greatest of saints struggled in their own spiritual droughts. I am praying for the grace to still hang on no matter what the circumstances may lead me to do. I think I have been given a snapshot of how it is to let go and not get hold of God's steering Hand. It was unimaginable, horrible, and very lonely. It may have given my inner passions a chance at being tried, being tested for what I thought was my own good. After all, many people may have tried more things than the things I myself have ever tried.
But is it the number of experiences that make us better people? Experience may be the best teacher, but what do those experiences teach us?
I still want to cry. For almost a month, two months even. I haven't shed a single tear in such a long time I wanted to cry out to God for help and despair. I yearn the embrace of people who truly care for what God does for people who strive to follow Him in the fullness of the priesthood He has bestowed upon His people.
I now attempt at listening to the music which has stirred my heart in the past and drove my eyes to shed tears of reflection, happiness and the ecstasy of hearing the voice that I perceive from God speaking within me. Nothing like that still happens, except that at least wonderful fact that I'm back at listening these prayers set to music.
Not the worldly noises, the depraved stories or the profane scenes of those days when I tried to quench that spiritual thirst with something else.
"John has risen from the dead." In fact, it was Jesus who made Himself known to the world around Him. People were actually thinking He was John the Baptist resurrected from the dead.
Honestly, it is quite hard for me to connect my personal sharing today with today's Gospel reading, something I usually do in my blog posts. I may have been given the first step to get out of that rut, but slowly I walk the water to Christ. Having enough faith to get me through and actually reaching Christ is another matter.
But I am really happy nonetheless that Jesus will be there to pick me up, as He did to His apostle Peter.
Burn within us, holy fire, so that chaste in body and pure in heart, we may deserve to see God.
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Saint Aloysius Gonzaga, pray for us.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Following Him Through His Cross
Mt 16:21-27Jesus began to show his disciples
that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly
from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes,
and be killed and on the third day be raised.
Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him,
“God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.”
He turned and said to Peter,
“Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me.
You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”
Then Jesus said to his disciples,
“Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself,
take up his cross, and follow me.
For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it,
but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.
What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world
and forfeit his life?
Or what can one give in exchange for his life?
For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory,
and then he will repay all according to his conduct.”
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I was in a mess for quite a number of days last week. My confusion over some things in school and within myself caused me to stumble a number of times--as a result, I wasn't able to attend daily Mass and even say my daily devotions.
The past few days saw me heavily burdened for a reason I cannot figure out even now. I pray to God that He give me clarity over how my spiritual life ought to be lived.
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Many of us have convictions we are very willing to fight and die for. The lives of the many martyrs we venerate in the Church are but examples of how men and women are willing to offer their lives for something they hold sacred and true. But how much are we passionate for the things we believe? Is it a healthy or a destructive passion?This thought came to mind when I encountered comments from someone who insulted the Jesuit order and the Novus Ordo mass, concluding the Jesuits as "not Roman Catholic" and the Novus Ordo "useless."
The reasons for making such comments may still be debated upon, but the fact still remains that people have no right to judge and insult a Society which has produced canonized confessor and martyr saints, a Doctor of the Church and has espoused a very powerful form of spirituality. And the fact remains that people have no right to conclude that a particular approved rite of the Catholic Church is "useless."
Let us pray that God send His Spirit of love, unity and understanding within His Church.
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Take up my Cross and follow Me. How much am I willing to suffer for the love of Christ?
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Saint Robert Bellarmine, defender of the Catholic faith, cardinal and Jesuit, pray for us.
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photo credits: http://www.gardenofpraise.com/images/jesu2b.jpg, http://www.fotosearch.com/comp/BDX/BDX341/judge-handing-down_~bxp64659.jpg, http://image.guardian.co.uk/sys-images/Film/Pix/pictures/2007/04/05/cross.jpg
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