Dec.18, 2012 - MUSIC & BETHLEHEM

Last December 9, 2012, I attended the Holy Spirit Catholic Church Christmas Choral Concert. The popular Christmas carols beautifully sang by the children's choir earned a thunderous applause. No cause for wonder, really, because of the presence of parents and relatives specially doting grandmothers and grandfathers of the young "promising" diva or tenor in the family. It was amusing to see the flood of digital cameras held up in the air to record the momentous occasion. I smiled as I remembered such times in the past when I would compete with others for space to get a better shot of the "apos" (grandchildren) when they performed.

 Both the youth and adult groups admirably rendered more newer hymns to commemorate the season of Christ's birth. Audience participation in the singing of a few Christmas classics made me open my vocal cords without any hesitation, despite the fact that I sing off-key. I believe that the spirit of Christmas permeated the atmosphere so that my unbridled passion for music and song rushed free!  It was an afternoon well-spent, indeed, thanks to the most efficient and dedicated effort of the music directors and instrumentalists of the Holy Spirit Church.

A few days after, I attended the Christmas Piano Recital of Christian, a grandson, at the Carlton Plaza a residence for seniors. I was so moved by his marvelous rendition of  "O Little Town of Bethlehem." He has been under the tutulege of Mrs. Carmencita Aspiras, a former child prodigy and a six-year piano scholar in Vienna, Austria, the Music Capital of the World! She has been holding student recitals in large senior facilities for the past few years. Her reasons for doing so are so laudable from the standpoint of students and audience alike.

The Christmas carols sang or played during both occasions made my heart swell with immense joy and lifted my spirits to high heavens! Such feelings were duplicated by Christina's beautiful voice singing the liturgical and Yuletide songs during a mass we attended. But the melody of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" haunted  me so strongly that I decided to write about my first visit to Bethlehem in 1977.. Like all "firsts", the experience has remained fresh as the morning dew in my memory!

Both history and tradition point to Bethlehem as the birthplace of Jesus. A small village, referred to in the Bible (Micah 5:2) as the "least" among the towns of Juda. Bethlehem, old name, "'Ephrata," means, "House of Bread." It lies within the Judean desert so that the sordid mounds of rocks and countless caves form a large part of its terrain. Sparse greenery with few sheltering trees lie here and there where shepherds pasture their flocks.

My first visit to Bethlehem in 1977 was through the kindness of a couple, Israel (yes,that's the man's name) and Ruth Beit-Halachmi who were my seatmates on board a plane from Singapore enroute to Europe in 1975. At that time, I was in an ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations) meeting in Singapore when I received a wire from the Department of Foreign Affairs with instructions to proceed to Geneva, Switzerland to represent the Philippines in a Plenipotentiary Conference on Shipping sponsored by UNCTAD (United Nations Commission on Trade And Development). Ruth and Israel in their mid-sixties, came to Singapore to promote their business of manufacturing Jewish artifacts and jewelry, On board the aircraft, we had an animated conversation which included, among other things, my dream of visiting the Holy Land, the birthplace of my Lord and Savior, Jesus. Of course, I added, that it would remain a dream since my circumstances would not warrant its realization. Despite my definitive claim, they still so warmly invited me to stay with them just in case I would finally land at the Tel-Aviv Airport in the future. Modesty aside, they were unduly lavish in their admiration for my representing a country in international circles at such a young age. I was 44 years old then! They told me how I had warmed their hearts and offered me a silver ring with an aquamarine-like gemstone which they said was a "gilat," a stone from King Solomon's mines. I would not accept gifts, specially jewelry, from strangers. Therefore I was adamant in my refusal saying, "No, thank you," over and over again. After seeing the sincerity of their offer and their admission of the great disappointment and possible insult they would feel, I relented and graciously expressed my gratitude for the ring. (By the way, I still have it.) We kept in touch through the mail almost on a monthly basis since then.

Fast forward. Then in April,1977, I had to attend an UNCTAD conference in Belgrade, Yugoslavia. It was to be held the week right after one of Christianity's holiest season- Holy Week. I was  determined to set foot for the first time in Israel since the meeting place was close by and travel costs would be greatly reduced. The added bonanza was the fact that my first encounter with the "living" Jesus was during Holy Week, the time of His "death.". What coincidence, nay, "God-incidence" can that be ???

It was Holy Tuesday.To say that I was feverishly excited as the plane made its smooth landing at the Ben Gurion Airport in Tel-Aviv would be an understatement! My mind was occupied with the thought of "kissing" the ground of the Holy Land at the foot of the plane-steps or not. It was a struggle between the faith-filled sense of my heart to kiss the "Holy Ground" and the intellectual synapses of my brain which considered the gesture improper and attention-getting.The head above my heart prevailed!

Ruth was screaming, "Is it really you, Grace? Are you here, here, really, really?" over the phone when I called from the airport at around 8 AM. Being fond of surprises, I purposely did not inform them of my coming. Much later after my trip, I realized how wrong I was to make my visit a surprise. What if Ruth and Israel were on a business trip abroad? What would have happened to me to be stranded in a foreign land without any hotel reservations? If I would have been lucky to get a hotel, would I have the money to pay for it plus the transportation costs to and from the religious sites of Bethlehem, Nazareth and Jerusalem? My loving and merciful God Who knows my needs even before I ask, had saved me from a lot of heartache! Praise the Lord! It made me realize what being "close to God" means - that He will supply our needs even without our asking if it would redound to our benefit. Also, it became more clear to me that at times when we do ask for something and He remains quiet, it is either what we are asking for is not rreally good for us or He will give it at the right time or He wants us to persevere in prayer in our caily communion with Him.

 While waiting for Ruth and Israel, I walked around, noted the immaculately clean and modern airport and even ventured out of the premises. I was expecting dozens of young men and women in uniform with their full gear patrolling the area since "war" was consistently aflame in Israel as reported in international newspapers.  I did not see one soldier at all! I was somehow relieved at the thought that peace must have finally been achieved. I also took a second look at the faces and body silhouettes of the few women I saw in the vicinity. Since the previous year's Miss Universe was from Israel, I presumed most of the Israeli women would have her features.

After the usual amenities, Ruth and Israel took me to their spacious apartment in the prestigious area of the city where the Prime Minister of Israel, Rabin stayed. In fact, he lived in the penthouse right above their home. I was surprised to know that despite being a  man of national  prominence, he did not have bodyguards except for a driver.They  pointed to me the Prime Minister's car parked along side many others in the curb of a side street. I marveled at the humility of Rabin who was acclaimed, "Man of the People."

During my 3-day stay with my hosts, they took me to Nazareth, Bethlehem, Jerusalem and a city tour of Tel-Aviv. This blog is focused on my first visit to Bethlehem only.

While driving towards Bethlehem, Ruth told stories of the many Christmases they celebrated in the place. Three Christian groups: Catholics and Protestants, Greek Orthodox Chirch and Armenian/Ukrainian Orthodox Church have different dates for the birth of Jesus Christ. Hence, every year Christmas is celebrated three times in Bethlehem. Though they believed in Judaism, they still celebrated Christmas in Bethlehem because of the music and pageantry during the festivities. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised at the many things they knew about Jesus!

I stood awe-stricken by the tall, huge, fortress-like structure before me which was the Basilica of the Nativity, built during the middle of the 6th Century by Emperor Justinian. The very first church built over the cave where Jesus was born was constructed by Constantine, the first Christian Emperor of the World in 354 A.D. Fire and war atrocities had razed that church and the succeeding ones throughout the centuries. I took a studied look at the basilica from one end to the other. My mind could not comprehend how such a building of  the 556 A.D. era could be standing still in 1977? I had not seen the Pantheon of Rome nor the Pyramids of Egypt then.

The main entrance of the massive- walled sanctuary was (still is today) a small door which required each person to bend low and literally bow one's head to enter. No wonder, it is called, "Door of Humility." I figured that since Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is inside, all of his people, his "children" need to pay homage to Him.

The faint light from the hanging oil lamps inside the squalid darkness almost like that of a cave gave a strange aura of holiness and wonder. Damp air circulated through two long rows of huge columns lining the nave (center) of the church. The hair at the back of my neck stood electrified as goose bumps swept through both my arms. I was spellbound! I looked at the altar which consisted of a simple table and a collection of oil lamps of varying sizes and shapes arranged in a few tiers from the table. There were still some more lamps hanging from the ceiling."Where is the Tabernacle?" flittingly crossed my mind. I ran my hand on two or three columns and noticed the patina of age that had somehow affected the paintings on them. I quickly drew back my hand when I realized that people like me who like to "feel" things must have caused their missing lines and subdued colors. I thought of the thousands of hands that have "caressed" those pillars throughout the centuries!. 

A small area of the wooden floor in the nave of the church was lifted off to show the original one with its.mosaic figures of birds,flowers and fowl. Strangely enough, the colors on the tiles were still so clear, so vivid!  On the left side of the church as one is facing the altar, a much larger space of the original floor with the mosaic figures were on display. Of course, it was a cordoned section.

Some persons standing on line at the left side of the altar indicated that it was leading to the cave where Jesus was born. I quietly took my place in the line while my heart vigorously pumped against my chest. My head was reeling with excitement and, I thought, every nerve of my body was agitating to get loose from its "cubicle" to  see the Christmas card "Nativity Scene or Creche" come to life! As I slowly followed the trail down the narrow, rugged stone steps to the cave-stable, I prayed a succession of "Thank you" to God for making my impossible dream possible! I was overwhelmed with a mixture of joy and sadness, a longing for my loved ones- family and siblings- to be with me at that most significant time! 

Upon reaching the end of the steps, I looked around and saw that there were two openings (steps), one coming down to the "grotto" and the other, going up from it. I saw that the walls and roof of the cave were covered by something like a tarp.Three or four yards away from the "grotto", my eyes caught sight of a small opening between two pieces of tarp. When I stood right below it, I reached up and inserted my right hand so as to "feel" the rocks My sense of touch makes an experience come alive to me so that  it has become a personal "pet peeve." My happiness knew no bounds! But when I knelt down before the spot, the "hole" which marks the birthplace of Jesus, I was sobbing convulsively like a lost child. It was cordoned off by an iron chain . I  saw all those ahead of me just kneel, pray and leave. But I could not do just that! 

Kneeling right in front of the "grotto" with tears rolling  unashamedly down my cheeks, I crawled under the chain and- "dug" my right hand first then my left into the "hole." Then I ran my hands on the silver piece with star- like points that encircled the spot. I was completely oblivious of the people in the cave with me. The only thing that mattered was that I was with  Baby Jesus, my Santo Nino!

As I was going up the steps to exit, I smiled at the thought that I found the answer to my question, "Where is the Tabernacle? The "Grotto", of course ! Halfway through the exit steps, I stopped, turned to take a last look at the "grotto." In so doing, I saw the line of pilgrims, one by one, inserting their hands through the opening between the tarp to touch the rocks of the cave!,

November 30,2012 - Mother's Death Anniversary

Today, November 30th is the 44th death anniversary of my mother - Carmen Miranda nee Calara. Yes, she signed her name that way! While remembering and praying for her on this special day, I rejoice knowing that she, in her glorified body, is enjoying the splendor of heaven. She had a tremendous influence on me that I can safely say that my mother "defined" me!

My mother remained true to her vocation of "motherhood" and pursued it in total righteousness with God. The Almighty was "numero uno" (number 1) in her life and was consistently manifested in her daily activities. She could be counted among the "blessed meek," not in the sense that she was incapable of adequately expressing herself nor as a sign of weakness but in her total trust and confidence in God. Being a widow with a soldier's wife monthly compensation, she managed to rear, clothe and educate eight off-springs. Numerous were her trials and challenges. Many were the times she chose "dying to self" so as to fulfill family obligations. Her total trust and confidence in God was worthy of emulation and somehow energized and inspired those close to her.

Very early in life, my mother instilled in us the development of a personal relationship with God through "prayer," I close my eyes now and my mind unravels the vivid picture of my mother encircled by her young children with her outstretched arms and upward gaze as she explained that prayer was and still is, the lifting up of our hearts and minds to God. Family observance of the Angelus and the Rosary were daily evening prayers as I grew up. How often did she remind us, in fact, from childhood through teen years and up to adulthood this, "Stay close to God and our Blessed Mother and your life will be properly directed." It was her "mantra."

Another one of her quotable quotes was, "Do what is good not because someone is looking but because you are a person of integrity." By that, she meant "granite-like integrity." She followed this with "Ang Diyos ay hindi natutulog." (God never sleeps). Still followed by an inspirational, "God rewards the good!"

The Golden Rule, "Do unto others as you would like others to do unto you" was something she demonstrated in life. She made sure that the message rang in our ears and ingrained indelibly in our brains."The frequency with which the Golden Rule is practiced at work and at play makes it a habit," she counseled.

On this day, I let my pen loose on a tribute to:

                     MY  MOTHER

A tribute to my mother is most essential
For me to do because it was Providential
That I be counted among her children she loved
God's greatest gift to me, my mother, 
         gentle as a dove.

She was a person from humble beginnings
Yet was destinied to lead, to counsel from sinning
Definitely focused, sincere, sweet in her ways
So positive in outlook, an inspiration to trace.

My mother's love was attuned to God's pure one
To family, relations and friends, save none
Even to those who "bite" her open hand
Always forgiving, adapting to the demand.

"Generous" was her second name, friends
          did tease
A "giving" person without question nor cease
Food and supplies meant for family reserve
She shared willingly without bursting a nerve.

A devout  Catholic from cradle to grave
She taught  her children to be truly saved
More by example than by Bible stories delight
Her faith shone bright at life's turmoils,
          dark nights.

Our family prayed together Mary's Rosary
A nightly devotion we chorused in Spanish free
"Padre Nuestro" and "Dios te Salve," 
        I  learned first
Long before I mumbled prayers  in the
        English verse.

Education was to her, one of life's stars
Her children to succeed was her goal,
        not a farce
So the care of a piggery she bore patiently
To help finance our education indefinitely.

Mother taught us to develop and nurture high
The most precious granite-like integrity
So as to look at anyone straight in the eye
At all times and in all places with sincerity.

I thank the Lord for bringing you to me
A gift from God, you'll always be
I am proud to be a wee bit like you
Just a semblance of your truest  hue!
          
                 XXXXXX
         

MY FAVORITE - PSALM 91

The Bible has a section called, "The Book of Psalms." David, one of the most favored kings of the Israelites wrote many of the psalms which are actually prayers of thanksgiving, petition or lamentations as well as for protection and hope. Among the 150 psalms, my favorite is Psalm 91 entitled Protection and Promise:

 Whoever goes to the Lord for safety
 Whoever remains under the protection of the 
          Almighty
Can say to Him, " You are my God, in you I trust."
He will keep you safe from all hidden dangers
He will cover you with His wings
His faithfulness will protect and defend yo.
You need not be afraid of the dangers that 
          lurk in the dark
Or the evil that strike at daylight.

A thousand may  encamp around you
Ten thousand all around you

GOD'S PROTECTION

The Bible is full of passages declaring God's promises such as, "His mercy endures forever; His love endures forever," or "Trust in me and in your distress, I will answer you." We also find the promise, "Seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened to you," and the lines, "The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is my refuge, of whom should I be afraid?" I often quote Isaiah 35:3-4 which says,"Strengthen the hands that are feeble. Make firm the knees that are weak. Say to those whose hearts are frightened, " Fear not, take courage. Here is your God! He comes with vindication and recompense. He comes to save you!"

One of the precious gifts of the elderly, like me, is the luxury of time. We have the time to spend according to our whims and caprices. We can wake up in the morning at the hour that pleases us or just spend the whole afternoon on our hobby, be it gardening, reading, listening to old-time favorites or enjoying the laughter of memories of yester-years as we thumb through our family photo albums. Like one who is aware of the constant need to know Jesus through His Word, I try to devote some time, often daily, to meditate on His teachings and His promises. And one that has become so deeply ingrained in my being is God's ever-loving presence which was dramatically highlighted in a happening that occurred last October 12th, the Feast of our Lady of the Pillar.

I woke up before 10 o'clock in the morning. I took my usual almost two glasses of water to drink and began my prayers at the start of the day. Water makes me feel satisfied such that sometimes my morning prayers go far beyond the usual 20 or 30 minutes. As I often did, I alternated kneeling and sitting down while bending low touching my toes at prayer.

I heard a great crushing sound. I assumed it was the neighbors' gardener who used to be so noisy with some tools, etc. in the outdoor shed which was near my window. I continued to pray. After a long while, as I started to stretch my arms up in prayer, I heard shouts of...Dong..Dong...Dong...right at the top of the staircase which was just across the "doorless bonus room" which I occupy. In some models of the same house, the bonus room was a complete apartment by itself. So, the bonus room I use is on the second floor with a wide opening directly leading to the staircase. Again, when I heard the shouts, I thought it was Brian, Cielo's husband, who sometimes works at night and is therefore home during the day. My mind did not question why he would be shouting at all! I continued to pray until almost noon when I took my cell phone and my medicine bottle and trekked down the stairs. I held on to the banisters and kept my eyes on my feet so that I failed to see the open entrance door. I went to the family room and opened the patio door. As I turned around, I saw the broken pieces of glass window and immediately called Brian since he works nearer home than Cielo. While doing so, I looked at the garage and the extra BMW car was still there and the computer in the computer room, too.

My heart was acclaiming thanksgiving and praise in unison to God Whose mighty Presence caused the thieves to leave in haste. I surmised that when they went into the master's bedroom, I was bent low in prayer. My prayer mat (yes, I have a lambskin area rug) was partially hidden from view by a sofa. I also guess, that one of them must have seen me slowly lift up my arms in prayer so that he shouted something like "Dong..Dong...Dong," a language I could not understand. My Lord must have "instilled" fear in the hearts of those men upon seeing my outstretched arms in prayer! God made His Presence felt!

Upon investigation, the master bedroom had been ransacked. The king-size mattress had been moved possibly in search for hidden money, a custom among Asians. The cabinet drawers were wide open and jewelry boxes missing. They had stayed for some time in the room and just close by, I was continually praying! I offered my litany of thanksgiving and praise to our Lord, our Blessed Mother and my heavenly friends- the saints, angels and archangels, I pondered over the whole scenario and remembered one of my favorite psalms, Psalm 91, " God will send His angels to hold you up lest you hurt your feet against the stone," and in another psalm, " The angels will encamp around you to protect you!" 

This is my testimony of God's Presence in our lives! Among my daily Litany of Praise to God is "Jehovah Shanah- God is Ever Present. praise you, Jesus!"

What happened that night of October 12, 2012 was a fitting finale to an important episode in my life.

I attended the 9 PM Mass at the EWTN Catholic TV Channel. After dinner, I was before my laptop around 11 in the evening checking the emails and adding a few paragraphs to my autobiography. Suddenly, a coin dropped on the table near my right hand and started to spin round for a fraction of a minute. What was mind-boggling to me was the fact that the tingling sound of the coin as it dropped on the wooden table in the stillness of the night did not alarm me at all and that my eyes were glued to the coin as it was spinning for a considerable number of seconds. When it stopped, I looked at the golden coin, a little bit bigger than a quarter. It had an imprint of an Angel! I was happy! With the coin resting on my palm, I looked up and said, "Oh, my guardian angel, you helped me. You protected me. Thank you, thank you! You want me to know that you are always with me!"

My mother used to remind us, especially when we were children , to pray to our Guardian Angels. I have echoed this advise to my children and grandchildren time and time again. In fact, the Morning Prayers I printed for them when they were small included the Prayer to My Guardian Angel. Now, I constantly remind them of this prayer to be said often during the day and also at night. 

There is a reason for it and I know why!

September 15, 2012 - SEDONA, PHOENIX

The much-publicized Family Celebration of EWTN (Eternal Word Television Network) scheduled for September 8th and 9th in Phoenix, Arizona aroused my interest to attend. Since my sister, Beth and Lily, my "balae" (Noel's mother-in-law) have been loyal Catholic channel viewers, too, they gave positive answers to my invitation for the trip. Lily's daughter, Evelyn, joined us for support which came in various shades.

To my pleasant surprise, Lily's nephew, Gilbert with his wife, Jovita and son, Andrew, have been residing in Phoenix for some years. They showered us with the proverbial Filipino hospitality which included a visit to Sedona some two hours away. I am most grateful to them for giving me a chance to see one of the mighty works of God! Seeing the pristine beauty of Mother Nature in this "Red Rock Country," as it is also called, made me understand why it is visited by around three million tourists annually.

Information from the Sedona Chamber of Commerce states that Sedona lies at the mouth of beautiful Oak Creek Canyon, a breathtaking chasm. Rising high above the canyon is the Mongollon Rim, a 2,000 ft encampment formed from ancient deposits of limestone, mud- stone and sandstone millions of years ago. Fanciful red rock monoliths which rise to thousand feet high because of their shapes have names such as Cathedral Rock, The Lovers, Devil's Bridge, Courthouse Butte, The Nuns or Grand Piano. Looking at the gorgeous scenery, I felt, Nature was at her best! The bizarre pinnacles and crested buttes as well as deep small canyons of clear red rocks dazzled my eyes and besieged my mind with wonder and awe. Like the psalmist, my heart cried out, "How magnificent are your works, Oh Lord. All creation bless you!" I learned that the tumbling waters of Oak Creek provide the moisture with green plants here and there and during spring and summer a carpet of flowers abound with a riot of colors. Naturally, Sedona is a favorite place of artists and nature lovers and more recently, by New Age advocates.

The Sedona Metaphysical Association is a resource for the spiritual and metaphysical side of Sedona. The area was inhabited by Indians many centuries ago and their affinity to Mother Nature was distinctly inherent in their religious rites. To this day, Sedona has earned world acclaim as a spiritual mecca because of the presence of power spots called "vortex." 

Pete Sanders, Jr. a scientist, in his book,"Scientific Vortex Information," wrote, "A vortex is a site wherein the energy of its surroundings is concentrated. A person  in this vortex site will have the inner ability to find, feel, measure and tap that energy." Because Sedona as a whole is regarded as a spiritual power spot, what is happening in a vortex is an energy flow of deeper dimensions. Each person may experience a vortex differently. Possibilities include new insights, intense feelings of joy, heightened spiritual awareness, problem- solving or healing of past memories. Overall, a person experiences "well-being and transforming soul nourishment" in a vortex.

To complete the Sedona visit, Gil took us to the Chapel of the Holy Cross on a much higher elevation with a vantage view of the whole area. Looking up to the chapel, one's gaze is held captive by its most prominent feature - a giant cross that seems to support the structure which jutted between two huge red boulders. To me, it seemed that Divine Hands split open the fiery monolith to make room for a sanctuary for those who are heavily laden and from whence He gives rest. True, it offers the necessary respite to anyone who ventures the long, winding climb up the mountain. We were fortunate to have used a courtesy vehicle which brought us near the chapel entrance. More than being a palliative for aching knees and feet, the elegantly simple chapel envelopes one with a certain kind of peace almost within the context of the Biblical passage, " peace beyond human understanding." To some extent, it must be the kind of feeling one experiences while being in a so-called "vortex." It is said that the Chapel of the Holy Cross is located in a vortex!

The Chapel of the Holy Cross was envisioned by Marguerite Brunswig Staude, a religious painter and sculptor, in 1932 but it was  only in 1956 when she was able to build it. The American Institute of Architects gave it an Award of Honor in 1957, stating, " Though Catholic in faith, as a work of art, the chapel has a universal appeal. Its doors will ever be open to one and all, regardless of creed, that God may come to life in the souls of all men and be a living reality."

By the way, inside the chapel is a pedestal with the sculpted Head of Christ. The inscription said that it came from the Chartres Cathedral in France. I was moved by it! I felt some affinity to it not only because of its fine delicate lines and expressive countenance but due to the special privilege of having visited its source. The Chartres Cathedral is known all over the world for its majestic stained-glass windows but more importantly for having in a big side altar, on display, the slightly grayish - blue " Mantle of our Blessed Mother." 

September 1, 2012 - FAMILY REUNION

Family is an all-inclusive term that binds siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins of varying degrees into one consanqiuneous or "blood"  relationship.. As such, many individuals become a coherent whole under the banner of  "family." It is no wonder, therefore, that many people put a hefty premium on their family bestowing on it a certain sense of "sacredness" reserved only to the sublime.

Through the encouragement of Cielo who first thought of the idea, I started the wheels rolling on a Family Reunion of the Pablo Calara - Carmen Miranda Clan to be held on September 1, 2012.at the De Souza Hall of the Holy Spirit Church in Fremont, California. 

The celebration started with a Mass, actually a Healing Mass, which happened to be regularly scheduled at that sanctuary.The grace of the Anointing of the Sick was bestowed on us and many of our relatives that day. It marked an auspicious opening - rite for a day filled with fun, music, food and laughter. The hall was a beehive of pleasant chatter of folks not having seen each other for long periods of time.Everywhere I looked, I saw faces beaming with delight and unquestionable happiness, an inner joy of meeting relatives after a long absence. 

August 26, 2012 - OUR LADY OF CZESTOCHOWA

Today, August 26, 2012, is the Feast of Our Lady of Czestochowa or Queen of Poland as She is called since centuries ago. Today, She is known to be one of the two "Miraculous Black Madonna" in the world. Our Lady of Montserrat of Spain is the other one.

My journey to Eastern Europe in the year 2000 covered visits to Czechoslovakia, Poland, Austria and Hungary. The total ambiance of these places had a discriminating allure so intricately difficult to explain, yet, so soothing to unravel within the senses of my being. Every place had a charm all its own - a hold on me quite removed from the plush and grandeur of Paris, London or Spain. Why? I searched for answers rather exhaustively and pinpointed three  plausible reasons: my long-time devotion to the Miraculous Infant Jesus of Prague, my inherent love for music which Vienna represents and the mind-boggling World War II atrocities committed in these places especially in Auschwitz.

"Jasna Gora" or "Bright Mountain" is referred to as the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in Poland.

August 9, 2012 - PARIS SOJOURN

Tomorrow, August 10, 2012, I will be on a Paris sojourn with my daughters Marissa and Cielo and my niece, Ritz, daughter of my sister, Glory. The sights and sounds of the City of Light has enraptured me in its web of Renaissance architecture and contemporary edifices, fascinating melting-pot of art, culture, fashion and culinary excellence. It is a cosmopolitan city of many wonderful things for the eyes to see, the ears to hear and magnificent array of time-honored crafts hands have created and a surplus of nuances for emotions to  surge and hearts to embrace. The very ambiance of the place where people of diverse origins, color, creed or attire meet and inter-act in a manner amicably with respect and understanding, consideration and assistance overwhelms me! Yet, Paris also is the capital of France where social reforms have ignited revolutions of such magnitude to effect political and social living.

What keeps me breathless with wonder and amazement is the old-world charm of the Renaissance structures of cathedrals and buildings coupled with the sweeping elegance of bold Modern Art. However, to me, the medieval masterpieces in painting and other art forms outshine the contemporary look although a certain harmony pervades in their contrasting features. With more than 2,000 monuments, breath-taking sanctuaries for worship and prayer which are masterpieces in themselves, I, nay, anyone can be easily carried to Cloud 9.

Most important of all, my visit to Paris always includes a pilgrimage to 140 Rue de Bac where our Blessed Mother appeared to St. Catherine Laboure in the chapel of the Convent of the Sisters of Charity on July 18, 1830, the first of several encounters. She leaned her hands on our Lady's lap as she was told of the great suffering that would come to the Church. In addition, she was told of a mission she was to undertake.

On November 27, 1830, our Blessed Mother appeared to her in an oval frame standing on a globe wearing many rings of different colors which shone rays of light. Around the margin of the oval were the words, "O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to Thee." A large letter, M, was encircled with 12 stars and a stylized Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary. Our Lady said, " All who wear this medal will receive many graces." The medal which was struck upon instructions received by St. Catherine Laboure became known as "The Miraculous Medal" because of the reported cures and healing which number by the millions.

St. Catherine Laboure died at age 70 on December 31, 1876. Her body was exhumed after 57  and was found unravaged by natural law of death with her blue eyes open. I first saw her in 1975 and through the 18 times I have so far visited her, St. Catherine's body is still incorrupt and her eyes still blue. 

Another pilgrimage site in Paris is St. Vincent de Paul. But his story deserves a blog all its own.... for next time.  

Aug.1, 2012 - ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI

Today, August 1, 2012, is the Feast of St. Alphonsus Liguori, a lawyer, philosopher and theologian who founded the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer or "The Redemptorists." 

He was born on September 27,1696 in city near Naples, Italy. A brilliant student, he became a lawyer who won every case he handled. Despite his success in his profession, he felt an emptiness within. At age 27,  after practicing law for eight years, he lost his case for the first time and decided to quit. Against his father's wishes, he entered the seminary and was ordained a priest at 30. He lived his first few years as a priest with the homeless and marginalized youth of Naples. He founded Evening Chapels as centers of prayer, preaching and community social activities. Upon his death, there were 72 Evening Chapels established with over 10,000 active participants.

His priestly life was somehow marred, if one would call it that, by a condition known as "scruples" which was an  obsessive concern with one's sins and a compulsive performance of religious direction. St. Ignatius Loyola had been known to suffer from "scruples," too and described the condition as a "groundless fear of sinning that arises from erroneous ideas."

St. Alphonsus Liguori was canonized in 1839 and was elevated to being a Doctor of the Church in 1871.

The Church of St. Alphonsus Liguori in Rome is between the Basilica of St. John Lateran, the seat of the Bishop of Rome and the Basilica of St. Mary Major (Santa Maria Maggiorre), the largest church dedicated to our Blessed Mother in the world. The shrine dedicated to St. Alphonsus Liguori is the repository of the original icon of Our Mother of Perpetual Help or as She is also called, "Mother of Perpetual Succour."

It is recorded that the icon was fished out of the waters near the island of Crete by a fisherman who kept it in his home for some time. Then one night, he dreamed the "Lady" telling him that She desired to be venerated in the church between St. John Lateran and St. Mary Major. St. Matthew's church fitted the instructions so that in 1499, the icon was venerated there for 300 years. Then during the 60-year period of turmoil in Rome, the little church of San Matteo was destroyed and the icon hidden away. The Redemptorists built a church in the site in honor of their founder St. Alphonsus Liguori. Pope Pius IX gave the title Mother of Perpetual Help to the icon and also bestowed its custody to the Redemptorists in 1866.

My first visit to the Church of St. Alphonsus Liguori in Rome was in 1976. The original icon of Our Mother of Perpetual Help hung above the main altar. The image was painted on a piece of wood measuring about 4 ft by 3 ft. I learned that the icon had existed for several centuries which accounted for its slight discolorization and dire need for restoration.

I have been a devotee of Our Mother of Perpetual Help since my college days when I tried to consistently attend the Wednesday novena at Baclaran in Manila. Only inescapable reasons would cause me then to miss the devotions at Her national shrine. To think that through all those years, I never knew the specifics of the icon until that 1976 talk with the pastor in Rome. 

July 31, 2012 - St. Ignatius Loyola and Our Lady of Montserrat

Today, July 31, 2012 is the Feast of St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus or as the community is commonly called, "The Jesuits." He wrote "Spiritual Exercises" which is widely used in retreats today.


He was born in 1471 of a noble Spanish family and trained to be a warrior until he was 30 years of age. In the Battle of Pamplona, his legs suffered major injuries. While confined in bed, he read the only available books his sister-in-law had. They were about Jesus and the Lives of Saints. He was greatly moved and developed an insatiable desire to know more of Christ and His teachings. Upon recovery, he went to the Shrine of Our Lady of Montserrat near Barcelona where he made an all-night vigil. It was a turning point in his life so that he left his sword on the altar before the Virgin Mary and vowed to be a follower of Jesus. 


He went to Manresa and lived in a cave in complete mortification and realization of God in the world. Eager to be an instrument of change, he studied Theology and Latin in Salamanca, Spain. Later, he went to the University of Paris for his Master's Degree. It was during his stay in the Paris that he formed a group of six schoolmates into one dedicated to poverty, obedience and chastity. They called themselves the "Society of Jesus." In 1540,they went to Rome to have their community approved. Since the Pope at that time was beset with the growing Protestant Reformation, he asked them to help him. The "Jesuits" as the community was then called became involved in the field of education.
St. Ignatius Loyola wrote "Spiritual Exercises," a method of prayer, meditation and discernment based on the Scriptures. He died in Rome in 1556.

The life of St. Ignatius is inextricably associated with Spain's Our Lady of Montserrat, one of the two widely-acclaimed Miraculous Black Madonnas. The other one is Our Lady of Czestochowa in Poland.


Montserrat is a mountain 4,055 ft. high above sea level near Barcelona, Spain. It is a "jagged" or "serrated," multi-peaked mountain with striking slightly- colored sedimentary rocks consisting of rounded formations. The wind, rain, snow, heat and cold for thousands of years have molded the rocks into weird, capricious  shapes. Some peaks or crags have fancied resemblance to human figures, animals or objects and have been given names as: Cat's Head, Elephant Trunk,The Bell, The Parrot, The Dice, The Friar, The Doll, and The Giant. Surprisingly, despite the lack of soil and the scarcity of water, vegetation grow in abundance.


It is recorded that as early as the 8th Century, hermitages were in Montserrat and by the 12th Century, a sanctuary was built which has become a Benedictine Monastery. Widespread miracles of the Blessed Virgin brought pilgrimages then which has continued to the present.


My visits to Montserrat were in 1988, 1996 and 2003 with my grand-daughter, Diana, after her Grade VIII graduation as "Valedictorian." Montserrat was pilgrimage site in our tour of France, Portugal and Spain.


In my 2003 visit, I had time to take the funicular or trolley trip down  to the base of the mountain to see the cave where the image of our Blessed Mother was found. At the ticket counter, we were informed that the last trip of the funicular was at 6 PM. I let Diana spend more time with a sweet young lady, Tina, who was so gracious to let her tag along. Another woman within my age bracket, too, Celenia was my companion during the cave adventure.


Much to my surprise, the end-of-the-line station of the funicular was not near the cave. We had to go through a very rocky path farther down for more than 30 minutes to reach our destination. It was an awesome feeling to be inside a cave that had existed thousands of years through the centuries when God did not even thought of putting me in His blueprint of the universe! More importantly, I was in a sanctuary, a blessed place, indeed!


Celenia and I departed with the group for our return trip. Despite our determined effort to walk with them, we lagged behind since the uphill climb was more exacting on our knees and legs. Maneuvering through the many right and left turns of the trail further caused  a tremendously long gap behind our companions. We reached the small patch of platform which served as the station only to see the tail-end of the trolley disappear among the forest greens.


I realized that it was the last trolley for the day and that we had to stay overnight in the "wilderness." My heart sank to its lowest ebb and my whole body weakened like a mass of gelatine. Physically, I was in the "Lost Horizon" but then my Faith, like a flaming arrow  zoomed up to the Heavens, to my God Who will never abandon me! I have always believed, "I am one of God's favorites!"


While Celenia kept pacing back and forth murmuring invectives about our companions' lack of consideration for us, I felt the stomach-churning fear of spending the night in the dark forest inhabited by nocturnal animals out for human flesh. I shivered at the thought! In utter despair, I looked up to the darkening clouds, lifted up my arms and prayed loud, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom should I fear? The Lord is my refuge, of whom should I be afraid. (Psalm 27) I sought the Lord and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears." (Psalm 34). All of a sudden, I saw two figures coming towards us from a distance. I did not have any trace of apprehension but rather of expectancy! As the two men came nearer, I noticed one having the resemblance of St. Raphael, the medicine of God and travelling companion, as depicted in a "stampita" I had.  Since I have been travelling a lot in my career, I have always prayed to St. Michael and St. Raphael. Anyway, it was a flitting thought.


They came to us and went direct to the water tube inserted in the hillside from whence water was continuously falling. I excitedly asked them while they were drinking with their cupped hands, "How did you come down? Almost in unison, they pointed to the same direction. No word was spoken. With a brief, "Thank you," I hurried on with Celenia close to my tracks.


Night had fallen. The crescent moon did not shed enough light for our way up the mountain in a trail of rocks and stones. My heart was in unceasing prayer as we took turns helping one another, pulling one up this way or the other in our ascent. After a few minutes, we came to a point where a rock hung precariously at the edge of the mountain. It spelled danger with any false step! We stopped trying to figure out the safest maneuver. The lack of light made the situation worse.While in deep thought over our next move, we heard a rustle of leaves behind us. Instinctively, we turned our heads only to see two smiling ladies, possibly in their mid 20's.




 Surprised, I asked, "Where have you been?"
They answered, "We were left by the trolley."
I said, "But we did  not see you at the station," As I mentioned earlier, the so-called station was a small cemented open-air platform. A sizeable tract around it was cleared of trees or bushes.
One lady answered, "We were there," as she immediately held my arm directing me make the right moves over the rock. My attention centered on our climb to the top where the Benedictine Monastery stood. We each had someone helping us all along the way. It was only through the timely assistance of the ladies. who claimed to be from Singapore, that we successfully survived our ordeal.


I invited them for dinner but they politely declined saying, "We have to go back to Barcelona."
We thanked the young ladies profusely as we poured our double, triple, nay, limitless gratitude to God Who will always let His Presence be felt during times when we need Him most! 


          Psalm 91:11- 12  "For to his angels he has given command about you, that they guard you in all your ways. Upon their hands, they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone."

July 28, 2012 - LONDON , SUMMER OLYMPICS

Today, July 27, 2012, I witnessed through the wonderful medium of television the Opening Ceremonies of the 2012 Summer Olympics in London.     It was a magnificent display of the various aspects that comprise the cultural heritage of the English people from the days of the homesteaders, to the Industrial Revolution and to the present Age of Technology. No word can describe my admiration for the planning, content and execution of the one-of-a-kind presentation which remained true to the distinct cool and reserve sophistication so characteristic of the British. It was truly unique from the usual opening ceremonies of the Olympics I have so far witnessed through all these years!

Watching the proceedings in London made me recall   incidents during my visit there where God's mercy to me was so dramatically displayed.

After a United Nations Conference in Geneva,  Switzerland in 1975, I flew to London for a visit. The Immigration Officer asked for my visa which I did not have. I was unaware of the visa requirement since I completely left travel arrangements with my secretary. It was my fault for not even bothering to check details of my itinerary! I acknowledged my negligence while a sense of uneasiness displaced my usual composure since denial of entry to London would mean a disappointment and a waste of money. My heart began my 911 prayers! The officer folded my passport and was in the act of handing it to me with a curt, "I am sorry" when suddenly, he paused for a few seconds, then briskly made a turnabout towards a room. I was taken by surprise, yet continued praying. After a long while, he came out with a grin. He said," I talked with my boss and since you have a red Official Passport, you can stay for three days." I heaved a sigh of relief along with my litany of praise and thanksgiving to God. He proved true to His promise in Psalm 91,
" In your distress, when you call on me, I will answer you!" To think that it was one day more than what I actually allotted for my London stay!

The two-day visit to London was topped by a city tour,  a visit to Hampton court, a journey to Windsor Castle and an interesting watch of the changing of the guards in Buckingham Palace while perched on the small, raised platform of the monument fronting it. I was enthralled by the grandeur of Westminster Abbey and the many epoch-making events that transpired there as the crowning of kings and queens through the centuries, the tomb of the Unknown Soldier and most of all, the site of the tribunal where St. Thomas More stood to receive his death sentence. Since the Cumberland Hotel where I was billeted was a stone's throw to Hyde Park, I took a short walk to the "Speakers' Corner" where a middle-aged man was shouting vengeance against a public official, I found out later. I learned that anyone can speak his mind and heart out in the premises, yet enjoy some form of "immunity" from arrest. 

From the park, I proceeded to a church just a few blocks away. When I entered, the priest was standing before the altar, bowing low and turning for the recessional. On top of the altar hung a big Crucifix with the figures of our Lady and the apostle John on each side. I was praying the Rosary in the almost deserted church when the priest came, smiled and said, " I think you are in the wrong church." I was taken aback and replied, " Why, Father, is this not a Catholic church?" Upon getting a negative response, I hurriedly left. It was an Anglican church but, it looked very much like our sanctuary and even had our Blessed Mother. Much later, I found out that Mary is venerated among the Anglicans and even celebrates August 15th- Assumption of Mary as a public holiday. During that short London respite, I managed to see the Immaculate Conception Church.

My flight to Paris was scheduled at 7 AM so that I took a taxi for the bus terminal while dawn was hours away. Though the driver informed me that the terminal would still be closed I insisted for fear that taxi fare to the airport would be horrendous. As I looked out, the light from the lamp posts shining through the London fog shed an aura of the mystic unknown. It was reminiscent of scenes in an Alfred Hitchcock thriller! A cold shiver ran down my spine and as I clasped my arms, I noticed my missing rings. I quickly touched my ears. I realized that I forgot my diamond jewelry on the hotel ashtray!

The driver immediately made a U-turn and headed back to the  Cumberland Hotel. A whirlwind of scenario filled my mind - the chambermaid putting my jewelry into her apron pocket, the taxi speeding away with all my luggage, my forlorn self before an airport TV monitor because I missed my flight and my whole family eating our traditional Media Noche (Christmas Midnight Dinner) with one empty chair. Totally helpless, I turned to our Lord and Blessed Mother for help! I summoned the angels and favorite saints to storm the gates of heaven for me. I nervously focused my gaze on the driver's head, praying for the Holy Spirit to pour upon him a sense of honesty so as not to cart my luggage away when I would go up to my hotel room. I also prayed for the chambermaid to have the strength to overpower temptation. I cried my heart out to God for help!

I rushed up the elevator and to my room. It was closed but unlocked just as I had left it. I dashed to the dresser and looked at the ashtray. Voila! The earrings and rings were there! I held them firmly and for some moments prayed a deep "Thank you!" But wait, only the first half of my request was granted, I ran back to the elevator. I was thanking God and our Lady and imploring for another miracle. The idea that our Lord works in complete cycles buoyed my hopes up.             Excitement took over the apprehension I earlier felt. Exhausted from the physical and emotional stress, I had to use both hands to push open the front door of the hotel.

"Thank God!" I mumbled. It was a welcome sight to see the driver's grinning face cupped by his hands on the taxi window. The Holy Spirit came through!

'Let's go direct to the airport,"I said. I entertained the thought that the airport trip was somehow a reward for not running off with my things. It was my sharing for the recovery of my jewelry. In addition, it became imperative to use the taxi so as to be on time for my flight to Paris. Of course, I gave him a generous tip for his honesty!




  

July 26, 2012 BANGKOK REVISITED

                   
                 Bangkok  Revisited


In 1975, the regional office of the United Nations, UN Economic Commission  for Asia and the Pacific (ESCAP), called for a conference on Shipping in Bangkok. As Director of Overseas Shipping in the Maritime Authority of the Philippines, I headed a delegation of government and private sector officials to said meeting. The Thai delegation invited all participants to visit the world-renowned "Bridge Over the River Kwai" in Kanchanaburi.


Many of you, I believe, still remember the movie based on the true story of the construction of the bridge to connect Burma with Thailand during World War II. If I remember right, David Niven was the principal actor. The grim facts shown of the suffering and death of 16,000 Allied prisoners of war and the more than 100,000 conscripted Asian laborers who toiled on the building of the railway including the bridge over the river Kwai touched so many who saw the film.


I was in college when I saw the movie, "The Bridge Over the River Kwai." Like many others, it made an impression on me. It moved me more deeply because my father was a WWII POW (prisoner of war), too. It opened my eyes to the enormous torture and deprivation of food, medicines and basic human needs, the prisoners suffered. I further realized why my father did not survive the ordeal.


So in 1975, during my visit to the famous or infamous bridge, I was beside myself with excitement. I kept looking out of the window to catch the first glimpse of the bridge as the train snaked its way to Kanchanaburi. When we finally reached the bridge- the memorial of the blood and tears of a fallen humanity, I stood motionless with mixed emotions of awe, sorrow and admiration. I gazed long at the bridge which was built by human hands under the most distressing conditions. I touched the wooden sleepers of ties that were placed so far apart between the steel rails almost with caressing reverence. Suddenly, I made the decision to cross the bridge on foot! Only a few delegates, all men,  ventured to make the crossing. I dared to take up the challenge, firm in my belief that God would help me! I considered it my "salute", my tribute to the men who shed blood and tears and and suffered incalculable pain to build the "Bridge Over the River Kwai."


Every step I made between the terribly wide-spaced sleepers of ties which supported the railroad track was slow and very cautious. One false step would have plunged me down the running waters below. I was concerned with the dizziness caused by looking down at the wooden ties and at the same time seeing the depth below and the raging water, too. As always in the midst of 911 situations, I prayed and asked God for help! And as always, He helped me in my adventure and "conquest" of the "Bridge Over the River Kwai."


In my visit to Kanchanaburi on November 9, 2007, I saw a lot of tourists and locals in the well- maintained plaza at the foot of the bridge. From a distance, I saw many people crossing the bridge and walking at a fast pace. My eyeballs almost popped out! How could they do that? I was bewildered! I took a panoramic view of the area. What a transformation! Whereas in 1975 the place was desolate except for the wild forest green enveloping the environs of the bridge. In 2007, a big plaza with flowering plants and benches around provided a relaxing atmosphere. Many restaurants and souvenir shops were enjoying good business. Store buntings and every conceivable  memento to commemorate a tourist's visit added a festive mood to the place. Moreover, a slow-moving, orange-painted trolley took visitors on board for an equivalent of 50 cents across the bridge. Tipsuda, my Thai friend, offered me a ticket which I politely refused. I felt that at age 76, my enthusiasm and adventurous spirit have not waned. I wanted to prove, at least to myself, that I could still cross the bridge on foot as in 1975. I stood, pushed my shoulders back, lifted up my head and ascertained that I was posture-perfect...ready for combat. To my pleasant surprise, the wooden sleepers supporting the steel rails have been reinforced with additional ones so that the spaces were much narrower.  In addition, a wide flat steel matting was laid on the middle section of the bridge from one end to the other so that crossing on foot was immeasurably facilitated. I smiled at the reason for the complete ease with which the people were traversing the bridge. As I did so in 1975, I crossed the bridge from end to end. My happiness knew no bounds for having visited Kanchanaburi and having felt the triumphant bliss of crossing the "Bridge Over The River Kwai" on foot again after 32 years!!! 

July 25, 2012 - ST. JAMES

Today is the Feast of St. James, one of the twelve apostles who is often referred to as, "James, the Greater." James and his brother John were the "sons of Zebedee" as described in the Bible.

May 27, 2010 - 75th Anniversary of Golden Gate Bridge

Today, May 27, 2012 is the 75th Anniversary of the Golden Gate Bridge, the world- acknowledged symbol of San Francisco, California. "The City by the Bay" is another way of referring to my beloved San Francisco, my first "home" for the initial twenty-five years in America. It is a place I have loved and will continue to do so because of the plethora of memories I treasure like ripples in the ebb and flow of my life.


San Francisco newspapers flashed extensive news about the 50th Anniversary of the Golden Gate Bridge in 1987. The spirit of adventure which has permeated my life manifested in the many travels to foreign soil I have undertaken caused me to make an important decision- cross the bridge on foot!


Noel dutifully brought me to the Golden Gate Bridge that momentous day - May 27, 1987. Several blocks around the bridge were filled by a motley crowd of people both natives and immigrants from every conceivable country of the world who have called San Francisco their home. There was a distinct feverish excitement in the air! I was swept by a tidal wave of joy and thanksgiving - happiness of being a witness to the celebration and gratitude to our Almighty God and Blessed Mother for making my family's emigration possible!


It took a very long while before we were able to inch our way towards the bridge. When we finally reached the foot of the span, I took a sweeping look at the people who were shoulder -to-shoulder taking a step-by-step journey to cross the bridge. To think that the blistering heat of the sun at high noon was at its height! I was undaunted. I invited Noel to join me in the epoch-making endeavor of crossing the Golden Gate Bridge on its 50th Anniversary. He declined.


With a silent prayer for strength and endurance, a long, deep breath, shoulders pushed back, chin up, I took my first momentous step. Somehow, I knew that I could make it. I was only fifty-six years old! Nonetheless, I decided to stay close to the rail for support and for the added advantage of having a wonderful panorama before me. The encompassing view of the San Francisco skyline and the unencumbered supply of fresh air justified my decision to cling to the rail.


There was a lot of chatter and laughter among the crowd. Friends who came for the walk filled the air with their endless stories of their past adventures together. Strangers walking beside each other became engaged in animated conversation with almost any topic "under the sun.". I could easily strike up acquaintanceship with the ladies walking beside me, on either side, but I resolved to spend the time with my special Friend - Jesus. My prayers were mostly of profound gratitude for the many blessings He has poured on me and my family. A litany of praise for Him came forth from my ever-grateful heart! It was also a fitting time to address my thanksgiving to our Blessed Mother and the many saints who have constantly helped me in my needs. Despite the accompanying discomfort of the walk to the end of the bridge and back, I found it to be refreshing. Strange? Not really, because I walked with friends of a special kind!


My walk across the Golden Gate Bridge on its 50th Anniversary took more than three hours. It was so memorable as my walk across the Bridge on the River Kwai (between Burma and Thailand) in the 1970's. There was a big difference though. At the Bridge on the River Kwai, my mind was fully concentrated on my steps between large pieces of log wide-spaced between each other and a raging river below. During my walk on the Golden Gate Bridge in 1987, my heart and mind was focused on prayer - a communion with my God!

May 20, 2012 - JESUS' ASCENSION

Today, May 20, 2012, we commemorate the Ascension of Jesus which marks the end of the Easter Season.The Church gives the same importance to this occasion as in the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. It marks the end of the public ministry of Jesus and the beginning of the Church's ministry to the world. In this connection, this event is a paradox- "a thing or situation exhibiting an apparently contradictory nature. As Fr. Mike of St. Ignatius Church said," How can an ending be simultaneously be a new beginning?" In answer to his own question, he added, "Graduation from school or college are called Commencement Exercises because it marks the end on one chapter in a student's life and celebrates the beginning of a new one."

True to the paradox of an ending which is a new beginning, Jesus' incarnation into this world, His mission for being born has come into an end and with it, He commissions His apostles to go into the four corners of the world to preach the Good News. Thus, the Church  embarks into a new undertaking - its mission to make all men disciples of Christ!

In the last Discourse of John's Gospel, Jesus said to His apostles, "It is better for you that I go for if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you, but if I go, I will send Him to you." The Advocate is the Holy Spirit! As you all know, Pentecost which we shall celebrate soon, marks the coming of the Holy Spirit.

In one of my blogs in 2010, I discussed quite lengthily, the Ascension of Jesus and my experiences at the Chapel of the Ascension in Jerusalem. How about reading it?

May 6, 2012 - "I AM THE TRUE VINE"

The Gospel today, May 6, 2012 is from John 15: 1-11 when Jesus after partaking of the Last Supper with His  apostles told them, "I am the true vine and my Father is the vine-dresser (gardener). Every branch in me that bears no fruit, he will take away and every branch that bears fruit, he will cleanse that it may bear more fruit. Abide in me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it remain on the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine and you are the branches. he who abides in me and I in him, he bears much fruit: for apart from me, you can do nothing. If you abide in me and if my words abide in you, ask whatever you will and it shall be done to you. In this is my Father glorified."


Jesus' exhortation on the Vine and the Branches implies a relationship with Him which is not merely that of a teacher and his student. It is a relationship which is like that of air and man and of sun and human beings. Without air, man cannot possibly live. Likewise, without the sun, life cannot be sustained.


The expression, "abide in me" has the same meaning as being "aligned" with Him in a relationship of "dependence." As the branches, separated from the tree or parent stock, could produce no fruit and would wither and die. Those who are separated from Christ may flourish for a while in their chosen profession or lifestyle but in the end yield nothing. So also are Christians or men in general, separate from Christ could do nothing. Jesus said, "Without Me, you can do nothing," nothing that is spiritually good, be it little or great, easy or difficult, think a good thought, speak a good word or do a good action. John 1:4 says, "Jesus is the source of life." and in John 6:33, "Jesus gives life to the world." So, we need to always remember that we can do nothing without the spirit, grace, strength and presence of Christ. Recall St. Paul's declaration in Philippians 4: 13, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." By the way, I often end my Morning Prayers with this quotation. It has become a "mantra" to me!


In this discourse, Jesus told the disciples that barren branches are cut away while those that bear fruit are "pruned." Pruning refers to the cleansing, the removal of imperfections. For the branches that bear fruit, it means that the vine-dresser removes the tiny insects, dead leaves, moss and other parasites so that they can bear more fruit. Since the branches signify us who are followers of Christ, pruning means cleaning us up, purifying us and removing the imperfections that lie hidden in our hearts as hate, jealousy, unforgiving nature, anger or revenge. Yes, it is in our hearts where God's cleansing and purifying takes place so that we can be fruitful for the Father.

May 2, 2012 - May 2nd Is Special

Today, May 2, 2012, is the ninth death anniversary of my husband, Rey. Thoughts of our more than four decades of marital union especially of the happy memories kept me from having my much-needed sleep. I decided to sit before my laptop and the result is the ff:

Dear  Papa,

Today is the ninth anniversary of your passing the pearly gates of heaven into God's welcome embrace. While a part of me rejoiced over your well-deserved rest to enjoy the glory of God, a greater portion of me languished over the grief and emptiness you left in my heart. The void has been irreplaceable and beyond cosmic repair through all these years! As a Christian, I have tried so many times to completely surrender, arms down, to the will of God in whatever comes my way. However, I have failed miserably, time after time, to do just that in regard to your passing- a loss which has remained woven into the fabric of my being. I must admit that for so long I have worn a mask of serene acceptance and total surrender before our family and relations alike. Only in times of my "alone-ness" have I shed off the mask of extreme grief and longing nestled in the innermost recesses of my heart. After a while, moved by the futility of it all and the culpable sin of not fully trusting God, I would resolve to be a better Christan in this particular aspect of my life. Through the passing years, this interplay of conflicting emotions and high resolve plagued me in almost sequential pattern. In every instance of its occurrence, I sought God's help only to be trapped within the tentacles of misery.

Then last Good Friday, in God's mysterious way and in His own time, I felt the "peace beyond human understanding" envelop me as I "let go" of this dimension of my life- your demise. I let go of the hurt and the sadness that had lain moored in my heart for years! I was endowed with a peace only the Holy Spirit can give! How true are the words of Blessed John Paul II when he said, "The Holy Spirit inspires, purifies and strengthens those noble longings by which we strive to make earthly life more human."

Papa, you have been a loving and sincere husband, a solicitous father and grandfather, a responsible  provider, a singer entertainer, a "jack-of-all trades," a man with a green thumb and most of all, a family chef, all rolled in one. What remarkable qualities few men can equal! In fact, the comments of relatives and close friends who have witnessed your versatile accomplishments attest to their admiration which sometimes had a tinge of envy. I know that I had many times expressed my appreciation and thanks to you but I feel that I had not adequately said nor done enough to drive home this fact more deeply. Therefore, here and now, I say, "Thank you so much for being the husband you had been to me and please forgive me for being less of the wife you would have wanted me to be." 

Today, I dedicate these lines to you:
                  
                  To  My  Husband

I celebrated the Liturgy today
In your honor to God I prayed,
"Thank you, Lord, for the wonderful life you 
           have given me
Largely due to my husband you sent from Thee.

To me, you personified the "man of all seasons"
Truly because of a multitude of reasons
First and foremost was your love so sincere and true
Which remained untarnished in all the years
           we had been through.

Like an invincible steel tower you stood upright
Against the gushing wind of temptation,
           beckoning sights
Empowered by a faith which you had held strong
Since your childhood as an orphan struggling along.

"Common traits and interests is good," said a sage,
"to achieve compatibility in marriage."
But God's sense of humor undefined such notion
He gave me a man of few words but one of action.

In your quiet, inimitable way
You put to naught and held at bay
Popular belief that a man of all trades
Could not be a "master" of any chosen shade.

But you proved to all beyond a shadow of doubt
You excelled in carpentry, gardening, electrical route
Car repair, in fact a handyman through and through
But above all these, an excellent cook, too!

A "Thank you, Lord," will always be on my lips
"For my husband, one of your magnanimous gifts."
Our marriage lasted for forty-seven years
Gold-encrusted despite occasional tears.

I know in your eternal home in heaven
You regale the Lord with your songs
          sometimes shaken
With a plea that God guide, protect and lead
          all of us
To you when "The End" comes to our earthly task.


I  LOVE  YOU !!!

Darling    (to you)

May 1, 2012 St. Joseph, The Worker

Today, May 1, 2012, is the solemnity of St. Joseph, The Worker in the liturgical calendar. He is also  venerated as a saint in the Eastern Orthodox Church and in the Anglican and Lutheran faiths. In 1870, he was declared Patron of the Universal Church. Pope Pius IX later attributed to him the honor of Patron Saint of Workers because of his qualities of patience. persistence and hard work. In addition, he is also invoked as the Patron of the Dying and Departed Souls. Many saints, like St Teresa of Avila and St. Andre Bassett of Canada had a strong devotion to St. Joseph for "healing" and did much to spread worldwide recognition and love for him. Numerous churches, hospitals, schools and religious organizations have been named in his honor. St. Joseph Oratory in Montreal is the largest church in Canada and was built through the efforts of the then Brother Andre Bassett whose St. Joseph's Oil effected thousands of healing.

 As depicted in the Bible, he was a man of integrity and character and was a "just" man. Considered a model for contemplation, he was a quiet man, one with very few words but rather a man of action. Tradition states that St. Joseph did not doubt the purity of Mary but doubted his worthiness in the Divine Plan. When an angel appeared to him in a dream, the angel gave Joseph the assurance that it was God's will. He did not question but totally put his trust and hope

 on God's Word. Neither did he question instructions he received for the immediate flight to Egypt in the middle of the night nor of the return of the family to

their hometown. He bore in silence the rigors of the trip and the problems of livelihood in a strange land.

 St. Joseph was the foster-father of Jesus. To fulfill his role, he must have carried Baby Jesus in his arms, fed him, clothed him and would have done the many things associated in caring of a child in his growing up years. He must have taught Jesus the satisfaction of doing work and the rudiments of his trade as a carpenter. He may have taken him to work even in Sepphoris, a nearby town which was a more industrialized place with a lot of construction work at that time. Lamentably, St. Joseph did not have the chance to see Jesus perform any of His miracles!

A traditional prayer to St. Joseph which has been used for more than a thousand years is the following:

"O St. Joseph whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the Throne of God, I place in you all my interest and desires. O St. Joseph, do assist me by your powerful intercession and obtain for me from your Divine Son, all spiritual blessings through Jesus Christ, our Lord, so that having engaged here below your Heavenly power, I may offer my Thanksgiving and Homage to the most loving of fathers. O St. Joseph, I never weary contemplating you and Jesus asleep in your arms. I dare not approach while he reposes near your heart. Press him in my name and kiss His fine head for me, and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, Patron of Departing Souls, pray for us.

(Say for nine consecutive mornings for anything you may desire. It has seldom been known to fail.)

Fatherhood is a unique vocation that requires a lot of patience and discernment. Hence, I would definitely encourage all "fathers" to have a special devotion to St. Joseph !!!

April 24, 2012 Sea of Galilee

The Readings today, April 24, 2012 are on Jesus' stay in Galilee after the "feeding of the loaves and fish" to the 5000 men and many more women and children. The miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fish happened in the village of Taghba. In a small memorial commemorating this event is the rock on which the bread and fish were lain as Jesus prayed before the miracle. An inscription "Mensa Christi" lay upon the rock.


Galilee has a charm uniquely its own. Lush greenery abound in some areas near the Sea of Galilee which is actually a lake. It is the lowest freshwater lake in the world. In my visits there, the "sea" has always been calm and the soft breeze has been exhilarating that the feeling of wanting to stay there forever tickled my mind. I believe that the fact that Jesus spent so much time in the area doing much of His healing and many of His miracles even walking on the water there, add to the special appeal Galilee has on me! Therefore, I have attempted to write some verses about it:


How beautiful you are, Oh, Galilee
Peaceful, life-giving water that abound in Thee
St. Peter's fish with their young in tow
Amidst the swaying plants so green below.


How I love to be in charming Galilee
In the place where our Lord Jesus walked with glee
Teaching His apostles, also Peter, James and John
To love everyone with the love He has sown.


The trees and boulders that line your rugged shores
Heard the tales Jesus told with such awesome force
That he would lay down His life to save the world
From sins of the flesh, corruption and the sword.


That to know Him means to study His Word
Reflect on Jesus' parables we won't get bored
Instill in our minds and hearts the way of life
Willing to serve others, always with rife.


Eager to help those who knock at our door
For food, for shelter, for counsel and much more
We can never fathom the power of prayer
Each time we seek God for someone else's welfare.


Oh, Galilee, how you marvelously display
Mother Nature in kaleidoscopic array
The changing colors as the seasons roll by
Complement the fragrance of the breeze coming nigh.


A chosen place you are, Oh Galilee
From time immemorial to eternity
Oh, Lord, in your mercy and love, let me be
In the bosom of your heart, your own Galilee!

April 11, 2012 MEDJUGORJE and EASTER MORN Easter

Easter is the core of Christianity - the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ signifying His conquest over Death. I associate Easter with my visit to Medjugorje in 1997. Do you know why?

Medjugorje, a name which means "between mountains" is located near the border of present-day Croatia. At the time of my visit, it was still part of Yugoslavia and a war was waging between Croatia and Bosnia. Although artillery shots could be heard from afar, the little town of Medjugorje was quiet. Only the chatter and shuffle of feet of the many pilgrims could be heard in the main street leading to the St. James Church. Somehow, God must have inspired the natives to build such a huge church for a small village and to put an equally large cross on top of a high mountain, ages ago, for their role in the apparition of our Blessed Mother in June, 1981.

After a day's guided tour, I decided to go back to the Hill of Apparitions very early the next morning to watch the breaking of dawn. Hence, I requested Gloria Reyes (may she rest in peace), a former co-teacher at the Philippine Women's University who was my companion, to wake me up at 4 AM. But she woke me up an hour later since she felt that it was too dark for me to make the climb up the hill. Instead of being upset over her "disobedience." I was grateful for her concern. That is what true friends are!

True enough, It was still very dark while I walked towards the taxi stand in front of the church. There was no vehicular or human traffic around. Helplessly waiting, I turned to Psalm 91 and to our Lady for help! Just then, I saw a woman walking on the other side of the street. I called out,"When do taxis come?" She answered,"They will not come." To my reply that I wanted to go to the Hill of Apparitions, she called back, "I am going there." I immediately crossed over and walked beside her. She pulled out a rosary from her pocket. I did not know whether she got it from a dress or from a pair of pants. I took my rosary from my purse and we simultaneously made the Sign of the Cross. Her lips moved but not a sound was heard. I followed suit- prayed with my heart. We walked to the end of the street and turned toward a wide open field that looked like rice paddies. In areas where the path was narrow, I followed her, otherwise I walked on her right side. When we reached the foot of the hill, she pointed to the top and I nodded. In the slopes were the Stations of the Cross. Together, we prayed at the First Station. I meditated quiet long and when I looked up, she was already at the Third Station waiting for me. I signaled her to go on to which she turned her back and proceeded up the hill. On the way, I met a priest accompanied by another man walking down. I mused, "My, did they sleep up on the hill?" After a while, two women came walking down the hill, also. "Did they sleep there, too?" crossed my mind.

When I reached the summit, I looked around for the lady who helped me. The whole area was visible since there were no trees around. My eyes covered every nook and corner of the hilltop, so to speak. For a few minutes, I stood wondering where she went. Finally, I convinced myself that since she was a resident of Medjugorje, she must know of another way down. I was all alone! Not a trace of fear or uneasiness beset me as I prayed before the cross which marked the spot where our Lady, now called "Queen of Peace" appeared to the five youth- Vicka, Maria, Ivan and two others. Then I positioned myself on a flat rock to watch the coming of dawn.

In a few seconds, the rays of light illumined the horizon and slowly the sun emerged rising towards the clear blue sky. Equipped with my sunglasses, I watched wrapped with the ecstasy of God's creation unfolding before my very eyes! I held my arms high as I soaked into my yearning body the penetrating heat of sunlight while my soul soared on "eagles wings." Tears of undefined joy fell through my lids as I cried out loud," It's Easter! Christ is risen! The Lord is my light and my salvation! (Psalm 27) I followed my proclamation with a litany of Praise and Thanksgiving:

Jesus, King of Kings, Praise you, Jesus

Jesus, Lord of Lords, Praise you, Jesus

Jesus, the Resurrection and the Light, Praise you, Jesus

Jesus, our Creator, Praise you, Jesus

Jesus, the Way, the Truth and the Life, Praise you, Jesus

Jesus, the Light of the world, Praise you, Jesus...etc.

Many pilgrims were climbing up the hill as I went down later. I took a taxi to get back to my hotel which was actually a home with some rooms rented out to visitors. While eating breakfast, I asked the comely matron of the place if there was another way up or down the hill. She replied, "Only one way."