Catechesis is my Inheritance

I attended a baptism of one of our teacher’s daughter since I was chosen as a godfather. Aside from the parents, the godparents has a role to play in forming the faith of the child. It matters how we “pass on” the faith to the young ones and it’s not just during Christmas season that we become Santa Claus-like to these little ones. It is a life-long responsibility especially that these children are still children. It can be shown in simple ways such as praying first before our meals.

I remember witnessing my nephew who said the grace when he was still five years old. It was cute and evangelizing even for adults like my sisters and brothers. A catechized child also plays a role in inspiring adults to keep the faith especially those who have lapsed or became nominal Catholics.

Now, I am an uncle to the newest addition to our family, a baby boy named Justise. He was born in the last week of October so go figure out how he was named like that. I haven’t seen him personally but I have the chance to see him next week before Christmas.

I am contended with seeing my sibling’s children. I love children. When I see them pray, though their faith is simple and innocent, I envy them in a good way. I am invited to be like these little ones, to have a child-like faith to our Father.

I know I am not married and not planning to since I’m consecrated so contributing to the gene pool is out of the equation. My inheritance wouldn’t be biological; it is spiritual. Catechesis is my inheritance. It’s not really mine; it’s about the One who, too, became “little” and His love for all of us. I’ll just pass it on. I just hope I am doing what I am supposed to do. And if not, then I’ll just keep trying and pass it on again. That is my inheritance.

And you? What is your inheritance?

Background Song: Inheritance by Jon Foreman

via Daily Prompt: Inheritance

Should I be scared to travel alone?

Dear Lord,

This fast few months, I’ve been preparing myself for my transfer to a new community and ministry. I am in the midst of processing my papers for travelling outside the country. Thus, I would be leaving my first apostolate (after MAPAC) which is teaching here in Notre Dame of Cotabato. I’ve been teaching now for three straight years and I don’t know how what to feel once I stop teaching and start learning a new language and be a student once again.

Though I was briefed what’s about to happen, of course I have my own what ifs and other reservations. Like what I said to a fellow brother, I don’t know what will I do there specifically so I’ll just stick to what I know: live as a brother in common life, pray, and even work while studying the language of that country. I know I will travel alone outside the Philippines but there are brothers anticipating my arrival there in my new community.

I admit there is a part in me that doesn’t want to leave asking, “What’s going to happen to me there?”. The prophet Jonah’s travel to Nineveh comes to mind. But unlike him, I feel no hate towards the people I will encounter. I don’t feel like turning back and take a ship going the opposite direction. It’s just that I don’t feel like going out of the Philippines for a long time. I am anxious but I’ll still go and follow what I am told to.

What I am experiencing now humbles me. To some extent, I can influence what I can do in this future apostolate but of course I don’t have the total control of what will happen to me and my future community. It’s a risk I’m willing to take and I entrust my future to my superiors who decided on this.

It’s a different kind of advent for me.

I don’t know where I am going to but in faith, I surrender.

Let Your will be done, not mine.

And let this be my prayer.

Amen.

Encountering the poor can be disturbing

During the First Sunday of Advent Mass this noontime, I saw the crippled old man who goes to daily Mass. It was the blessing of senior citizens after the prayer after communion when I noticed him. Since the priest asked them to go near the altar for the blessing, he also went there though he struggled in standing up and walking. He went there unassisted. It got the thinking, was he born crippled or he got a stroke? Because of the way he walks, he can be mistaken as a beggar just like I did when I first saw him. I find his identity mysterious. He dresses simply with a white shirt, shorts, and slippers, and brings along a hand bag with him every time he enters the Cathedral. He even got a proper haircut than I (blame the Nazorite challenge this November where I suspend haircut and shave this month).  He is thin and dark. His face wrinkled. I heard stories about him sometimes not being able to ride the jeepney because of the way he looks. And whenever he rides the jeep and the driver refuses his payment, he will get angry and insist that his payment be taken. I heard that he is not that poor. He looks like he is not that taken care of. Or was it because he is just stubborn to be taken care of by his relatives? If he is single or got a family of his own, I am not sure. How does it feel to live like him? I want to know. After the blessing of the seniors, he did not anymore take his seat but he went back where he was from, stayed standing on the aisle instead of sitting on the pew, and went straight out of the Cathedral after the final blessing. Since I was seated near the aisle, I was able to look at him closely. It was my first time to do so. I looked at his eyes. Our eyes met. I saw not the eyes of someone who has lost hope. I can tell that look of someone who has lost hope because I saw them before in the eyes of beggars, abandoned, and old people in the home for the aged. It was not that look that I saw in him. I saw his fierce and piercing eyes that looked back at me. As I go out of the Cathedral, I saw him approach a mother and child who seem familiar to him. He blessed both of them. I was stirred. Encountering the poor can be disturbing, I thought to myself. He might be thinking to himself that his life is near to the end that he chooses to praise God every day by attending daily Mass. I don’t know. I might only be imagining this. It’s as if I saw Christ in him. It’s as if this old man is living a life of a mystic. Content with how he lived his life and spending the rest of it thanking the Lord for his life.