The Little Things...

I received a message on why I chose to vote for a particular presidential candidate. Qualification and achievements would automatically move others on top of the list. I replied, however, that qualification and achievements are not on the top of my list when I choose someone as a leader, much more as a servant leader, although of course it goes without saying that qualification and achievements are way up there in my requirements checklist.

What do I look for?

Someone inspiring.
Not because that person can fix the economy. At this stage, no one can. Not yet. I’ve been watching the most powerful nation on earth try to squeeze themselves out of the economic deep hole they dug themselves in only to find themselves in a more sticky situation.
Not because that person can expound on the finer things of the law and talk about it for hours on end. We have so many laws our problem really is not novel formulations but plain and simple implementation.
Not because a person can sit down with the masa and eat with one’s hands when we all know deep in our hearts that is not being done during midnight drinking binges. I feel the masa cares less about you eating with them with your hands for a wonderful photo op and cares more about you getting down and dirty with your hands assuring them that the playing field is level and that they will have something to bring home, to put on their table, para may pagsaluhan, nakakamay man o nakakutsara.

I look for a person who inspires me.
Because that person walks the talk.
Because that person feels the way that I do, that we do, when injustice has been done to us.
Because that person is willing to carry the cross, even be crucified in it.

I do not expect that person to fix everything. Perfection is not the issue. Doing the right thing is.
I do not expect that person to do everything. Results are not the end product. They are but by products. Being a better person and doing the best that we can in any circumstance is the goal. I do not want someone to live my life for me, to fix things in my life, just someone who will inspire me, us, to be better than who I am, who we are right now, better meaning, keeping on doing the right thing, day after day.

We are a small country.
It is time for us to embrace that fact.
Maybe it would be good for us to stop trying first to be a big player in the world’s economic arena, or boxing ring, or singing stage and start striving to do the little things that would matter more when we leave this world. Following traffic rules, throwing trash in the proper places, pagbabayad ng pamasahe sa jeep, pagbigay ng tamang sukli. Speaking the truth, treating others right, being a person of integrity and respect that wherever we go and whomever we meet, they will be proud to say they met someone from the Philippines and their lives and ours have been enriched because of it.

The challenge to servant leaders. Inspire me. Inspire us.
Do not talk to us about the finer things on how to fix education woes, economic malaise, insurgency problems and land reform issues. If you’re serious, then talk less and work more.
Do what you have to do so we can do ours.
Be who you are, someone who will do the right thing no matter what.
Do the little things that matter to us, for they may be little in the eyes of the world but not to us, not to God…

Do Not Kill Me Twice...

6th Sunday of Easter
May 9, 2010

A blessed Sunday to everyone!

One more Sunday and we will be celebrating our parish fiesta, Ascension Sunday. We have heard in the Gospel how Jesus was in many ways saying goodbye and also in many ways reminding his apostles about his commandment to love.

We are also celebrating Mother’s day and we pray for our mothers, for all mothers, for their unfailing trust and unconditional love for us, their children.

Allow me to share with you a short Muslim story…

There was this young man about twenty years old who goes by the name Jamal. Jamal was approached by a salesman, Adam, who offered Jamal a million bucks for his mother’s heart (whether it is figurative or literal we do not know).

Jamal, with money signs in his eyes and greed in his heart, took the offer to be literal and went home right away and with a dagger claimed the life of his mother and tore out her heart and hurriedly started back towards the marketplace to find the salesman. On his way to the marketplace, Jamal tripped on some pebbles and as he fell down he dropped his mother’s heart and it got all dirty with the dust from the ground. After he fell, a soft voice came from within the heart and said: “My son, are you alright?”

Startled, Jamal realized what he had done and started crying. He cried so much that the tears from his eyes rolled down his cheeks and with those tears the dirt on the heart was wiped clean. Jamal, now desperate, wanted a way out of the major sin he had just committed. He picked up his dagger and pulled it up and was about to take his own life. Suddenly, the same soft voice came out a second time from the heart. This time it stated: “My son, do not kill me twice.”

When we love, we share a part of our life, we give a part of our heart to that someone. This is what God does. God loves us with such a love that will never let go, that will never forget, like a love of a mother who will never forget her son or daughter, with a love that even if a mother forgets to love, a thing close to impossible, God will never ever forget to love. That is why when we are bowed down by life’s challenges, when we break down and cry, it is really the tears of God that fall. That is why when we slowly kill our souls with our sins, it was Jesus who took it upon himself to die on the cross for us. Yes, God loves us so dearly that he gave us life, twice. When we were born to our parents and families. And when we were born to new life in him. And we are invited to share that life, that love to everyone, especially to those who are hurt, who have fallen. We are challenged to share life and give love so that our lives and loves are not for ourselves alone but become a part of whole humanity, of the whole community.

Yes, there are times when we have made our mothers, our fathers cry but through all the pain, when we stumble and fall, all that we ever hear is that anguished soft voice asking – are you alright? Yes there are times when we have made God cry, and yet through all our betrayals, all that we ever hear is Jesus’ anguished plea – Father, forgive them. Yes, there are times when we have failed our country by our wrong decisions and apathy, and yet through all the struggles, our motherland continues to hope, all that we hear is that plaintive song of Santino - May Bukas Pa.

Yes, we may have failed miserably many times in our lives. We may have failed our mothers, our fathers, but we do not correct a wrong by doing another wrong – we correct it by loving. By not just telling them how much we love them but most of all by showing to them in our own unique ways how much we love them. Yes, we may have failed our country many times, but we do not correct a wrong by continuing to do wrong – instead we show our love by going out to vote, to do our part towards our country’s transformation, another way of expressing our love is by committing ourselves to be good citizens, by paying taxes, by following traffic rules, by being good employers and employees, by doing our part, bit by bit. Yes, we may have failed God many times but let us not wallow in sin and hatred and kill God many times over again. Instead, let us love God and neighbor and let our love and life multiply…

(Painting: A Mother's Love by Wadia Boutaba)

love sweet love

Love lost, love unrequited
Heart aches, heart breaks,
No one is spared.

Many of us may have lost faith in our capacity to love wholly…
Some of us may have lost hope in our desire to be loved fully…

But in the end,
No matter how hurt we have been
By the many indiscretions and betrayals
Of those restless hearts around us
No matter how frustrated we have been
By the many infidelities we have committed…

May we keep on dreaming with eyes wide open
That there is someone out there meant for us
May we keep on daring to leap into the unknown
With that blind trust that there is someone who will catch our falling

For we are called, pushed even to go beyond what our fragile hearts can handle,
To love, and to keep on loving,
no matter if it will break our wounded hearts into a million pieces again
For that is what God does,
In spite of the many deceitful ways we pierce his vulnerable heart
Despite of the varied ways we keep on rejecting his offer of love

For he will always be a hopelessly romantic God
Eternally waiting
For the prodigal child’s return
For he will always be a relentlessly passionate God
Filled with undying hope
That someday, someday, we will surrender ourselves to the warmth of his embrace

And for that, we are, I am, forever grateful
For God, for love, sweet love…

and defiant hope is born…

There was one christmas card that I received that stood out, one that came from the Redemptorist fathers.
It was not laden with flashy graphics and text, just a picture of a simple “belen” with the message “and defiant hope is born…”

I guess that really is the message of Christmas that strikes a chord -
With the shepherds whose long, lonely nights were suddenly punctuated with the overwhelming visions of angels
With the wise men whose arduous journey was finally rewarded at the end where the star shines the brightest
With hearts so wearied from the pains of love lost gradually consoled by the season of cheer
With lives so broken by misfortune and decisions slowly brought together by the warm air of love…

Yes, the shepherds may find themselves going back again to those cold winter nights doing what they have been wont to do,
And yet, their routine have been changed somehow, having touched the warm flesh of hope…
Yes, the wise men may again find themselves traversing another tortuous route back home,
And yet, their journeys will never be the same again, having realized the true goal of their wandering…
Yes, our hearts will once again realize that the only consistency of our incomprehensible human nature is its capacity to wound,
And yet, the beating of our hearts will never be the same again, for somebody else’s heart beats with us, for us…
Yes, our lives no matter our desperate attempts at mending will only be disintegrated again into a million hurting pieces,
And yet, our lives have been transformed somehow, having felt deep in our hearts that a life was born to embrace our pains…

This is our Christmas,
that love born, will be killed, but will rise again.
This is our hope -
Breaking free from the meaningless violence and death of our souls and bodies,
Bestowing upon it new life that will never end…
Breaking forth from the hopelessness of a future for our children’s children,
Bestowing upon it a meaning that we all can hold fast to…
This is our defiant hope…


lingering hope…

There are many ways to celebrate Christmas…
And more often than not, the songs we sing convey the way our hearts feel -

Like sharing the grief of a family who lost a love and a life
We cannot force hearts to go on beating
And we can never choose the time nor the season
we can only choose to accept and to go on loving…
Believing in a hope that lingers…

“Hindi kita malilimutan
Hindi kita pababayaan
Nakaukit magpakailanmant
Sa aking palad and ‘yong pangalan… “


Like being with enthusiastic and passionate young people
Who carry our burdens, hopes and fears to a future yet unknown,
For whom we are answerable
and in whose questioning faces, our doubts are more pronounced
Though we grapple with them our uncertainties
We can never stop our restless seeking
For the one who has been searching for us all along…

“Into your hands
I commit again
With all I am
for you Lord

You hold my world
in the palm of your hand
And I’m yours forever”


Like experiencing the solitude at the end of the day
After everyone have gone back to the comfort of their own homes
And the warm embrace of their families
And the only company is the music, the solemn strains of the guitar and the flute
Playing the vespers, serving as haunting reminders of the 30 days of witnessing
The birth, the call and the death, and life thereafter
And though the words of the song escape the tired mind and body
The sigh of the heart remains…
I have found what I have been looking for…
Or rather, more succinctly, I was lost… and have been found….


Hope floats…

I have a very young nephew who is hopelessly talkative
Probably enjoying the words he has learned
Taking every opportunity he can to use them
Relishing the jumble of words that escapes his lips…

And yet there was one time when mama shared with me
That when we were about to leave that he was reduced to silence
Maybe not quite understanding why the fun and games have to end
And though not able to fully articulate the pain of saying goodbye
The tears freely, though silently flowing
Gently reminded me that Christmas is also about saying goodbye
To the joyful and warm season of love and giving
To give way to the harsh realities of letting go, loving, living, suffering…
And yet, amidst the tears, he slowly walked up to me, embraced me, and in my ear whispered…
But Tito Didoy, you are coming back, aren’t you?
And that was a very strong reminder that Christmas is also about stubbornly holding on
To persons, to loves that matter to us…
Truly, the gift of Christmas is a defiant hope born in each of us…