Soon
after the close encounter of the papal kind that I had in the eternal city, I
returned to the Philippines, to my home Archdiocese. I got ordained, got
assigned to a parish as a vicar, and a short while later, was appointed to join
the group of formators in the seminary. It was a very fruitful time for me. The
rector of the seminary, Fr. Gil Manaog always believed that the first steps of
any young priest ought to be memorable and fruitful; I believe that, thanks to
his insight as well, mine were. Those were years guided as well by the
magisterium of Pope Benedict. His words were among those that nourished the
further development of my young priesthood. What I received from the Holy
Father was further channeled in my preaching and in the work of formation in
which I was blessed to be a part of; it was not only a formation catered to
seminarians but which also spilled out to the rest of the faithful.
This
period of early pastoral labor in the Archdiocese of Palo ended when I was
asked to go for further studies as the school year 2010-2011 drew to a close. I
was reluctant to go, to be frank, and I was dreading the possibility of being
sent once more to study. But the best remedies are the more bitter ones, I
reflected, and so I decided to return abroad once again. I chose Pamplona over
Rome (there are times when a man could be so stupid, not because Pamplona was
not good, on the contrary, it’s one of the best; but Rome is Rome!), and took
up Church History.
The
first year was not without it’s challenges: it meant going back to the life of
a student, and not just that, but a foreign student. I had to adjust myself
once again to the pressures of classes, long hours of study and the pressure of
meeting the deadline and exams. Along with that, I was far away from my home,
my family, and most of my friends. My two-year Pamplona winter had begun.
It
wasn’t that hard though. One of the reasons why I chose to return there was to
spare me the tedium of learning another language (though learning Italian
would’ve been a plus!) and adjusting myself to unfamiliar surroundings. Having
left behind my comfortable circle of friends and family back home, I got to
know more people and made new friends. That first year went by swiftly, and
thank God, I was able to conclude it with a flourish.
But before
it ended, the news of the canonization of the second Filipino saint gave us
another reason to look forward to the following year. With the announcement of
Blessed Pedro Calungsod’s canonization in Rome, in October 2012, we made plans
to be there and take part in such a historic event.
After
doing some careful planning, I returned to the Eternal City in the company of
three others from the Archdiocese of Palo who were also studying in the
University like me: Fr. Paulino Cabahit, Rev. Raymun Sotto, and seminarian Jan
Raymond Ramos. We arrived in Rome a few days before the actual canonization, in
order to be there to be with our new Archbishop, John Du, on his birthday
(October 18). We also wanted to take part in the solemn triduum of Masses in
preparation for the canonization.
For
the Canonization Mass, which was to be presided over by the Holy Father
himself, I was able to secure the chance to be one of the ministers of
communion. This was possible thanks to the assistance of some friends.
On
the morning of the Canonization, we woke up very early. By luck, we were
accommodated in a sort of hospice which was merely a stone’s throw away form
St. Peter’s; it was so near the basilica’s bells could wake us up, and that the
window of our room gave a very good view of the imposing dome of Michelangelo.
Despite
of the early hour, we saw that there was already a big crowd of pilgrims
waiting outside the gates of the square. We made towards the gate of the
sacristy, which was through which the people to be seated in the sacrato with the Holy Father had to
enter. There were bishops waiting there, all in their choir robes. There was
color everywhere.
When
the gates finally opened, we went our way into the smaller enclave at the side
of the basilica, going past the entrance to the Paul VI Hall where the Synod
was being held, and into a small entrance that led into the basilica. The big
church was silent and empty when we entered it. Only with a handful of people
within, it appeared even larger than before.
We stopped in front of the Altar
of the Confession, just above the tomb of the Apostle Peter. Getting on my
knees, I began to pray silently, reciting the Apostle’s Creed, taking advantage
of that unique moment, swallowed up in the silence of the empty basilica, as if
having it all to myself. When it was done, I went towards the famous bronze
statue of St. Peter and bestowed the traditional kiss on the worn foot of the
image. Then I joined the others who were already congregating in the Chapel of
the Blessed Sacrament.
Quite
outside of the chapel were some bishops and cardinals who were in prayer. Among
them was Cardinal Vidal of Cebu. I greeted him with a slight inclination of the
head and he acknowledged it with a smile. Then I went in.
Simple
surplices and white stoles were provided for all of us. We were quite a number
of priests and deacons right there. We were told to be present for some
instructions, which were first given by one of the “footmen” (that was the
impression that I had when I saw the elderly man; I’ve been besotted to much by
Downton Abbey). We were expressly told not to give communion on the hand,
something which was really practical, not to mention that it was also the best
thing to do in circumstances such as these. Those given by the masters of
ceremony who appeared a bit later reinforced his instructions. Then we filed
out in procession in order to take our place at the right side of the papal
altar, facing the square.
The
first impression that I had when I finally stepped out into the sunlit portico,
after emerging from the gloom of the great basilica, was that of seeing a great
sea of people. It was shimmering in the light of the midmorning sun, and there
was color everywhere; what dominated were the red, white and blue of the
Philippine flag. It was truly like a Filipino fiesta.
We
took our places near the altar, and at a small distance away from the papal
throne. The sun shone hot on our faces, and I began to envy the religious who
were seated with us because they were able to make use of their cowls in order
to find relief from the relentless attack of the sun’s race. But I was grateful
for the splendid weather of that day.
The
announcement being made in various languages concerning proper decorum during
the Mass signaled that it was about to start. Everybody was requested to
refrain from applauding and shouting, and to keep a meditative silence instead
for the duration of the Mass. Then the choir started to sing the Litany of the
Saints, during which we began to see the concelebrating bishops and cardinals
file slowly out, until we saw the Holy Father himself step out of the gloom,
aided by his masters of ceremonies.
When
I saw the Holy Father emerging amid the applause of the people, I noticed that
he was wearing something that hadn’t been seen for more than forty years: the
papal fanon, a short cape with gold bands. A liturgical vestment reserved to
the Roman Pontiff, it was thought to keep the pins of the pallium away from the
chasuble. I guessed correctly there and then that this would cause a lot of
buzz from liturgical observers. But another thing that I noticed about the Holy
Father was that he was much older—and frailer—than I had last seen him. This
was a general observation. I saw him being assisted by Msgr. Marini and another
master of ceremonies as he climbed wearily up through the steps into the papal
throne.
There
was another thing worthy of note that day, and it was the fact that for this
canonization the Holy Father had decided to bring back some of the elements of
the old rite of canonization, with the three petitions to the Holy Father, and
with him responding to each of them, the third time reading the formula of
canonization.
The
Mass continued in a similar fashion. During the Offertory we began to move into
our positions before the papal altar, each of us bearing a ciborium with the
hosts to be consecrated. Before the Mass we were told that we were not to be
concelebrants; we were asked not to pronounce the words of the consecration
with the Holy Father. We stayed there directly before the altar, on the steps
of the great platform. We started to move down towards the crowd once the
Lord’s Prayer was intoned. As we filed down the steps, each of us was given an
assistant who would accompany us through the barricades.
After
giving communion, I made for the famous Portone di Bronze, the main entrance of
the Apostolic Palace. Instead of going through the doors, I went straight ahead
for the basilica, up a grand flight of steps, back into the great church, and
returned to the Blessed Sacrament into the chapel. After taking off the
surplice and stole, I went back outside, just in time in order to receive the
final blessing of the Holy Father.
The
Mass having been concluded, he climbed into the popemobile, which began to make
its rounds in the plaza, among the people. In the meantime, all of us who were
in the platform began to dissolve into a delightful chaos. The maintenance
committee began to dismantle the papal altar at once with an efficiency that
left me awed. I—like many others—began to take a lot of photos of almost
everything.
But
when the popemobile began to finalize its short trip, it went towards the
entrance by the side of the basilica. All of us began to run toward the side. I
began to take photos once again. And then he disappeared into the Vatican.
As I
conclude, I have before my eyes the images being brought to me live by the news
of Pope Benedict XVI making his last journey towards Castelgandolfo aboard the
helicopter. These days the Holy Father has managed, for the last time at the
sunset of his pontificate, to place the Catholic Church once again at the
forefront. “The Church is alive!” he said, as he surveyed the huge crowd that
turned up for his last general audience. These were the same words with which
he inaugurated his ministry about eight years ago. Now, despite of being
battered by storms and marred by scandal, he has shown us that the Church
remains as alive and as vibrant than ever before.
For
me personally, I have a feeling that the end of this pontificate signals the
end of the formative period of my priesthood. As I have mentioned at the start
of this article, my priesthood started within his pontificate. It had grown,
nourished by his magisterium, under his watch. With the whole Church now in
expectation, I look towards the future with hope to whatever it may bring.
