July 14,2011, Thursday
Not An Ordinary Day...
Met town-mates and high-school-days friends after over a score plus years and of course that "those were golden memories" permeated the air. You'll figure these are people of the retired level mark in life. And you'll readily recognize the physical changes- the slow gait, the missing-tooth smile, the composed way of talking as these are grandparents who came to be with their grandchildren to do their "apostolic mission." (apo in the local lingo means grandchild). But they are immigrants. In the birth country, a mother is always a source of perpetual succor. Then, the "very long-time hugs", together with smooches; meantime the e-cameras kept on ticking.
They were our townmates and schoolmates who are daughters of the town's pioneers- Norma Cabading Balais and Linda Galea Valeros, whose children are nurses and doctors. We are proud to be born and raised in the coastal town of Labason, Zamboanga del Norte. Labason, ZDN is the only town during the '40s that has two citadels of higher learning. It has one private Catholic high school, Ferrer High School with a tinge of a secondary Jesuit education when a San Jose' Seminary diocesan priest, Fr. Anacleto Pellano, took over the directorship but left and turned it over to the RVM sisters. It has also one private Protestant college, Southern Philippines College with a western touch as manifested in its gala Founder's Day celebration, a replica of California's annual parade of roses. The founder-director was a Col. Leodegario Orendain, who sojourned in America during the sacada era wave of immigration.
Labason, Zamboanga del Norte with a mark of many diverse professionals, has produced 28 priests to date, which is truly a record. The Catholic church is now sporting a new look; it's bigger and wider. Thanks to the generous donors and combined ideas of priests who had ministered to the sanctuary. The town proper has a wide area and well-planned roads and streets. Thanks to its first mayor, Mr. Gil Sanchez.
And now the memorable moment came. The background music was subdued; the forks and spoons were stilled. The conversations commenced interspersed with guffaws and "what we all need" laughter. Yarns of good old days and the high-tech world were woven to blanket the atmosphere.
I am a firm believer in love at first sight, to animate or inanimate objects, persons, or panoramas. I met a person whose visage is familiar. It turned out that he is a man in the Roman collar sans the collar. He nonchalantly introduced himself as Fr. Rodrigo Zafra. Fr. Eric, that is. We talked about schools. We glimpsed of those seminary moments. My short-lived seminary days. My linkage of that ilk- seminarians, nuns, and priests. We talked of his uncle, the first Bishop of Dipolog, ZDN., the late Msgr. Felix S. Zafra, our good friend. And also of my students of Ferrer High School, who are now priests "sowing the seed" of Catholicism in the snowy ground of the East Coast, Fr. Faron and Fr. Edito Amora who is I presumed at Davao, Mindanao, Philippines.
Thoughts of priests and religious and nuns cascaded intermittently, in my mind. What was this priest's mission? Is he a roaming pilgrim priest, an itinerant preacher or just want to break the solitude of being a parish priest to find meaning and definition on the unfolding will of God? Is he on a mission appeal, on a vacation seeking for the "aha" moment or the feeling of Eureka?
In the priest to a layperson talk, I bared out what his Bishop's uncle intimated to me that the binding force of priesthood and the pillars of Christian faith are the Rosary and the Holy Eucharist. That a priest who is negligent in saying the Mass and the Rosary is prone to the temptation of leaving the robe. And that the seed of spirituality finds fertile soil in the silence of the sanctuary.
We parted. I said goodbye. And when his sight was swallowed by the balmy Chicago summer night, I silently muttered to myself "til we meet again Fr. Eric."
An addendum - On July 27, 2011, Wednesday afternoon, Fr. Eric called on his way to Baltimore, Md. for "thanks for that memorable chat." Truly, I muttered to myself this young priest had in mind that "gratefulness, is the heart of prayer." And, there was the spark of joy. He made my day. Brother David Steindl-Rast-O.S.B. wrote "Joy is that extraordinary happiness that is independent of what happens to us. Good luck can make us happy, but it cannot give us lasting joy. The root of joy is gratefulness. Yet even bad luck will give joy to those who manage to be grateful for it. We hold the key to lasting happiness in our own hands. For it is not joy that makes us grateful, it is gratitude that makes us joyful."
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