SUNDAY PLAN: THE COLD WAR, 2012 A.D.

It might sound like an anachronism but yes, it took place during the first months of 2012: February to be exact. No, it wasn't exactly a war. But yes, it was an international event. Mexico, India, the Ivory Coast and the Philippines were very well represented in it, especially the last one, who had a lot more weighty representation.

Actually I was referring to the snowball fight we had this morning in the park near the residence. Pamplona, like the greater art of Europe, had been abetted for days by frozen winds coming from Siberia, and the winds brought heavy clouds with them, shepherding them like a huge flock of sheep above Europe. and these "sheep", once in place, let loose their precipitation. Snow fell heavy yesterday in many parts of Europe, but this morning snowfall was more than sufficient to leave Pamplona blanketed with snow, leaving us with a unique Sunday treat. I was supposed to have ordered my room today, but the enthusiasm of my companions, some of whom have never experienced snow, got the better of me and I headed out with them to spend the morning frolicking and throwing snow at each other. I received a good number of snowballs in the face. I never suspected that some could be so rabid in throwing things at others. I guess that's one thing that too much pent-up pressure causes in a person due to too much study. I was joking when I said that. 

But anyway, we were three Filpinos in the group. And where Filipinos are, there's always bound to be a camera. And Fr. Jim Cerezo had brought along his handy SLR camera, which produced a lot of good photos. 

No, this wasn't in our backyard, though I would've wished
 it could've been. I just kinda like the picture.

The belligerent nations

in action

FOURTEEN WEEKS...LET'S GET THE BALL ROLLING

14 weeks of classes and 17 days of exams. New dinner schedule. New subjects. A renewed interest and fresh vigor. These are the things that I have kept in mind as I began the first day of classes of the second semester for this school year. Yesterday I calculated how many weeks of classes and schoolwork we would be having, and I came with the result that I’ve stated above: fourteen weeks of classes, exempting Holy week and the Easter octave. In the end, within the examination period we would be having seventeen days. This morning I tried to stealthily campaign that we finish with the exams even before the last day of exams, something shared by the majority of the class except one, who insisted on spending the period to the full, with the last exam on the last day. I had a lively debate with the proponent of this idea, who comes from Brazil. The experience we had last semester was dreadful; we had to agonize until the last day of exams before being able to appreciate the cool breeze of the holiday cheer. I said to myself that I would keep everything in my power to keep this from happening again. Those who were well into thesis work were agreeable to the idea, since they would still have to prepare for the comprehensive oral exams in order to qualify for the licentiate title. The Brazilian was adamant but I hope he would succumb to the pressure of the majority. One thing that I noticed from returning from those days in Palafrugell was that I had learned to be more outgoing and forceful in conversations. By this I mean it in the sense that it is used here. Were I in the Philippines we would have “a heated exchange of words and ideas”, which actually means a quarrel; but we were not quarreling, actually. After the exchange I calmly and solicitously asked him how his vacation went. There are some things that the Filipino mentality won’t be able to get and stomach after a few tries.

Well it’s evident that with the new semester come new subjects, and new schedules. I would have to say goodbye to my stint as the Thursday chaplain in the university library, since I now have the first two hours on Thursday. I only have one free day, but even that is still not safe as we would still have to plan where to place the modules on the theological synthesis that we would have to make in preparation for the comprehensive oral exam to be done by the end of second year.

I have nine subjects this semester (last semester had a  subject less):

Teología Patristica Oriental. Eastern Patristic Theology, with Marcelo Merino. Here we’re bound to study the more important theological traditions of Eastern Church Fathers. It’s about time to get to know Irenaeus of Lyon, Origen, Basil of Cesarea, John Chrysostom and the rest of the merry company.

Iglesia y sociedad en la España del Siglo de Oro: here my assessor and professor Fermin Labarga would introduce us to the thereabouts of both Church and society of Spain during its Golden Age, during the Seventeenth century.

Historia del Papado: once again, one of my preferred professors, Carmen Alejos, would be leading us on a tour of the history, not precisely of the popes, but of the papacy as an institution; how it evolved through the ages. Special attention would be give I surmise to the relations, sometimes shaky, sometimes advantageous to one side or the other (a lot of times both) between the Roman Pontiff and monarchs.

Rasgos de la Sociedad Cristiana medieval: I’m not acquainted with Alvaro Fernández de Córdova, but they say he’s quite good at teaching. It’s basically Medieval Church History, but taught with a flair.

In the Iniciación Cristiana I am to be reunited with my old formator, José Luis Gutierrez (a.k.a. Don Pepelú), expert in liturgy. Part of a course in sacramentology it basically talks about the significance of the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation and the Eucharist. Nothing about rites nor rubrics here, though of course they form an important part of the mystery, but here Christian initiation is considered as an existential introduction into the salvific mystery of Christ through rites of a symbolic nature. Had I not taken up history I would’ve chosen Liturgy as a specialization. Anyway, this is an optative subject, something that I chose on my own.

Finally there is the Practica de la investigación histórica; it’s very much like the thesis writing course I once had in college, and which I taught as a professor later on.

Anyway, with these I marched off resolutely to the Faculty. My first day of classes was…without classes! I don’t know what happened, but it seemed the professor who was supposed to push us into the ordinary round of life was not there; for all I know he may have forgotten that he ad a class. Anyway, after all, there is this Latin adage that says prima non datur, the first day of class is not given, so off I went again, trudging back home.

Lastly, another novelty that we had in Albaizar was that starting this Monday, dinner is to be served at 7:15, (19:00) instead of the normal 9:15. The reasons for this change are still unknown. But it serves me well personally. One sure thing is that we need to adjust with the schedule. I’m planning to be in bed by 10:30 at the latest, in order to rise fresh very early in the morning; as I may have commented somewhere, I don’t like dealing with heavy material before going to bed, so this space may as well be devoted to further readings. My day will have to end with a cup of tea and me either reading or writing something down, preparing for the Sunday homily, or coming up with another entry, like what I’m doing now.

So I still have fourteen weeks roughly (the countdown has started) and at least three more, until I finally get to tread and kiss native soil once again.

With this I start the second season of what I call Albaizar Abbey…jeejeje

SIMBANG GABI AND FOUR YEARS AS A PRIEST

Christmas, as the saying goes, is right around the corner, and yet from the view outside of my window, four stories above the street in Calle Monasterio de Oliva here in Pamplona, there is nothing that belies the fact that the Christmas season is fast approaching. Aside from the Christmas lights shining merrily on the windows of the Chinese shops (yes, there are Chinese merchants even here in Spain), and a few posters showing the Christ Child in a few apartment windows—which could be another equivalent to “A practicing Catholic lives here” sign—there is nothing else that shows the fact that it’s nearly Christmas. Well, at least if you look out of my window. There are people bustling by, but no sign of the Christmas cheer whatsoever. You’ll have to go to the city center in order to see Christmas lights on the streets; Pamplona could not qualify as a serious rival to Brgy. Luntad of Palo, Leyte in terms of Christmas lights.

By no means is this my first Christmas outside of the Philippines; having done my theological formation at the Colegio Eclesiastico Internacional Bidasoa—an international seminary located in this same province of Navarra (Spain)—I’ve  spent four Christmases away from my family. This however, would be my first Christmas abroad as a priest.

I believe that I speak for everyone when I say that December and the Christmas season have a special meaning for us Filipino priests. For many of us, the start of the Advent season means preparing and conducting recollections, looking for sponsors and Mass celebrants for the Misas de Gallo to be celebrated in our parishes and chapels, bracing ourselves for this traditional pre-Christmas dawn novena, and preparing for the gifts we would have to make to relatives and friends, as well as parishioners, not to mention the invitations to parties to this or that group in our respective communities. In short, for a Filipino priest, December is a busy time, comparable only to the season of Lent, and this priestly activity merely increases as the month progresses.

I was ordained a priest the day before the traditional Aguinaldo Masses were about to start. On December 16, in parishes and chapels all over the country, millions of Filipino Catholics would make the effort to rise very early in the morning—some very, very early—in order to take part in this unique tradition, only done in the Philippines, and in every place where a Filipino community may gather. This novena of grace was designed to be an immediate preparation for Christmas. In my parish in Palo, Leyte we hold this novena to Nuestra Señora de Belen (Our Lady of Bethlehem, or of the Manger), to implore for graces. I have lived these days to the full since the first moment; in fact, the Misas de Gallo were precisely the first moments of my priesthood. I would rise very early in the morning, excited to celebrate the Mass with the faithful wherever my schedule led me that morning. The Mass would be celebrated  with white vestments, since it was already the Christmas liturgy that was being celebrated. This being so, there was much solemnity; the Gloria  was intoned and the songs were festive. There were flowers in the altar, and the muted atmosphere of Advent gave way to the joy of Christmas. Incense was employed with liberality, something which delighted the sacristans, who did their office with the graveness any cardinal of the Roman curia would envy. The congregation may struggle to be awake during the sermon, for which the priest would have to make the homily more meaningful and even entertaining. The churches would be filled to excess (which led a priest to remark that he hoped that people would take the adage “every day is Christmas” seriously, so that the churches may be filled thus every ordinary Sunday) and the congregation would spill out into the plaza. One would see people both young and old, but the majority of the youth is really noticeable. After the Mass, people would usually return to their homes; many—especially the youth—would chose to remain together with their friends, gathered in the plaza or in the parish. Sometimes the parishes—through the generosity of the donors for that day—would prepare hot food and drinks for anybody who would care to partake of them. The priest would usually remain with the faithful, chatting, greeting people, eating with them.

For three years I had lived these days intensely and with relish. I do so because of the mark it has left in my ministry and in my priesthood. I have never taken lightly the fact that the first Mass I technically celebrated after my ordination was an Aguinaldo Mass, having been ordained on the 15^th of December, 2007. I was ordained on the days that the Filipino religiosity had marked in preparation for Christmas. Perhaps that accounts for the “Incarnational” aspect that I have always thought essential to priestly spirituality: the ordained priesthood is but a continuation of the Incarnation of the Word of God. This is not something that I have invented myself, nor is it the fruit of my personal reflection, but one that I have learned from the treasury of the Catholic Faith. True, the priest is not a man for himself; in the words of Blessed John Paul II, he is to be a man for others. He is not to occupied with himself, but that he must tend toward the Christ-event, the Word of God made flesh, and lead others to enter into communion with this same Word. He is called to reflect the very same face of Christ, living and lovable, so that seeing him, the faithful may not look at the priest, but rather rest their gaze upon Jesus Christ. If Christ is the Word of God made flesh, who dwelt among us, with his life the priest must make his own an incarnation of this very same life, reflecting the splendor of this light which shines in the darkness and which the darkness had not overcome (cfr. Jn 1:5). Of this darkness the priest is conscious; he could see it in himself. That is why all throughout his priestly life he must always wage war against it ever defeating him, knowing that one could only battle the darkness with the light. This struggle against his own darkness he must live not only for his sake, but also thinking about his flock, who look to him for guidance and example as they struggle with their own darkness. The priest is far from perfect, we know, but who cares? Nobody could fault anyone for looking up at priests seeking guidance and looking for a model to imitate in the struggle for holiness: for the Church he is a city set on a hill, and a light placed upon a lampstand, whether he likes it or not. Nobody could blame the faithful for their disappointment and sadness when a priest falls low because of his sins. The priest is the one who must show the faithful the splendor of the coming dawn. I find it significant that the Simbang Gabi, over which the priest presides in persona Christi capitis, in the person of Christ the Head, as Christ himself, starts in darkness and ends with the first rays of dawn. He leads the faithful entrusted to his care towards the light, light that he does not manufacture on his own. When this light comes, he who had served as the light not hidden under the bushel basket but rather placed upon a stand, must give way to the Day that knows no end, Jesus Christ himself.

These considerations I make, as I celebrate four years of the gift that I had not merited, nor would ever be worthy to hold—the eternal priesthood of Jesus Christ, and as we prepare ourselves to celebrate once more the traditional Filipino Christmas that is one of its kind, celebrated at home, in the Philippines, where the heart is, and abroad. Wherever there is a Filipino, no matter where he may be found, this Paskong Pinoy  is always celebrated. I for my part, continue to celebrate this Filipino Christmas. My present situation would never deter me from celebrating a tradition so dear to my priesthood as the Simbang Gabi, though I may be celebrating it in broad daylight, in the privacy and silence of the sacristy, because of how much it has taught me about this priesthood for which gratefully and humbly I would sing to God eternally in profound gratitude: misericordias tuas Domine in aeternam cantabo!

With Archbishop Palma, December 15, 2007

SUNDAY PLAN: San Sebastian (Donostia)

I’ll be having another exam tomorrow, the third in the succession of final exams the end of which I’m looking forward to, which would be on the 22^nd of December. Not that the exams are particularly hard; compared to those that I had when I was studying theology way back four years ago in this same place, the battery of exams always put me on my toes (I’m not sure if that English expression exists. If not, I’ve just invented one). The exams that I’m having are calmer in comparison. Tomorrow I’ll be having one on the History of the Church in Latin America, which is interesting enough. The professor told us that she had decided to allow us to choose on what topic we wished to be examined in (the first time I ever heard of this type of arrangement, but hey, I’m all for it!). I chose to read about the history of the Philippines. That was great because I was the only Filipino in class and at least I would be giving the professor some variety when she begins to check the papers during Christmas break. The whole material consisted of four chapters, deliciously packed with new things that they didn’t teach us in grade school, nor in high school, nor in college. I guess old biases die hard, and I’m quite inclined to believe that we haven’t moved on from the Spanish-American war in some aspects. Or that, or we haven’t come to the acceptance of certain things.

I’ve come up with a pretty comprehensive outline about the chapters (I’ve learned from my readings on St. Charles Borromeo that he always had this maxim concerning studies: read well from a few well-chosen sources and always with a pen in hand), and as they say it in Spanish, no da pa’ más, there’s all there is to it.

Good thing that Alfonso López Menendez, another resident of this prestigious House of Albaizar and a good friend, had organized a weekend excursion and invited me and a few others. I readily said yes and this morning, taking our packed lunches, Alfonso, Ricardo Fernadez from Peru, Eugene Fadul (a kababayan from San Pablo) and I went off to the seaside city of San Sebastian (Donostia in Euskera). We left Pamplona in the morning; the city was cold and gloomy due to the fog that had settled upon it. As we were leaving Navarra, entering the Basque country it seemed we had stepped into another country (Basque separatists would surely agree with us), since the sun came out and the sky was almost perfectly clear. After parking under the city center, we came out and toured the sights. San Sebastian I think is the last major city aside from Bilbao before one crosses the Spanish frontier and enters into France. Paris—as far as I’ve learned from the road signs—is about 300 miles from were we were, and Biarritz and St. Jean de Luz, where the rich and the famous have their resorts, was not far from there. In fact, San Sebastian is also a favorite summer getaway for a lot of these people.

We first went to one of its beaches, where we watched a lot of surfers doing their thing. I would imagine that the water would’ve been freezing, which was the reason why people were looking at a man who waded into the water half-naked.

We visited some churches, all of which were really precious: the basilica of San Sebastian el Mártir el Antiguo, the Cathedral of the Good Shepherd, and another church which name I couldn’t remember.

A view from the wharf

One could see the Basque flag waving proudly from the
top of the fort on Urgello Hill. A marker indicates that the
French army surrendered here during the Napoleonic wars.

surfers

With the Fort and the Flag in the background. We were
joking that the flag served to remind us that we were in
another country

Basilica de San Sebastian Mártir el Antiguo

Sunday Mass in the basilica of St. Sebastian. Notice how few the faithful are.
There was a greater number of Mass-goers 500 meters away, at the Cathedral.

A side nave, leading to the chapel of the Blessed Sacrament.

A side altar that caught my attention. In the central panel
one may appreciate the Holy Family. This is quite unique,
since it is a group that includes the parents of
the Blessed Virgin, St. Anne and St. Joachim.
On the sides one may see the figures of two Jesuit saints,
St. Ignatius of Loyola on the left and St. Francis Xavier in
the right facing the altar. I suspect that this was under
the Jesuits at one time.

A close-up of the group

A frieze of St. Pius V adoring the Cross, above
the Tabernacle, situated to the left side facing
the altar. Seeing it confirmed my suspicion that
the church may have been built after the Council
of Trent.  

The Cathedral of the Good Shepherd,
Diocese of San Sebastian-Donostia

Centerpiece of the Cathedral: the Good Shepherd

The renowned pinchos of San Sebastian!
Pinchos are what we may call hors d'oeuvre, I think.

Excursionistas: Me, Eugene, Ricardo, and Aflonso

ALABAIZAR IDOL 2011

This Friday we decided to have some fun in order to celebrate those who had their birthdays and their ordination anniversaries this blessed month of November. A singing contest was organized, reminiscent of American Idol or Pinoy Idol or whatever (this type of contest has had so many editions one doesn't know what to call it to be exact...)

REVERENDOS is actually the name of the disco just down the corner from
our house...

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Ricardo (Peru) and Allan (Philippines)

Francis George (India) and Guido (Ecuador)

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Arnold (El Salvador)  the Sanctuary guardian (Philippines)
and Jaime (Mexico)

The drinks...there was nothing left of the food..

Master showman Eugene (Philippines)

Jim the photographer (Philippines)

The judges: Roberto (Ecuador) José Manuel (Spain) and Marcelo (Chile)

Jaime explaining the rules of the show...

The first contestant: Dimitri (Ivory Coast) 

The judges having a hard time (?)

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Another contestant: Enrique (Spain)

Ricardo from Peru

Everybody had a good time: Jaime, Marcelo, Eugene, Ricardo, me, and
Dimitri

SUNDAY PLAN

How do I live my Sunday? Virtually like any Christian should: resting and giving praise to God. It's quite liberating to consider the fact that even rest gives glory to God. I need to rest not only for religious reasons, but even for the most basic of human reasons: we all can use some rest every once in a while. Concerning Sunday, of course the consideration of the obligation to go to Mass is very evident (for the Catholic, by the way, we don't just go to worship: we go Mass. The Catholic doesn't go to "Sunday service" but to Mass. People would whine that it's the same. No, it's not. Let's not play with terms nor should be relative about them. Words mean something. As that character in Bertulocci's film once said: 'If you don't say what you mean, you will never mean what you say', or something like it). 

I was pondering on this as I was doing my usual Sunday morning jog. I've somewhat varied my route. I used to do a circuit of the Ciudadela, which is an old fort (reminiscent of Fort Santiago) that they have transformed into a park. I now run towards the Taconera park through the old fortifications, into the old city quarter of Pamplona and towards the Cathedral and back. This morning it dawned on me that it would be a good idea to go on this route on Sundays since the cathedral bells (which have been newly restored) ring incessantly (to the chagrin of the neighboring district). It's great to hear them, and the ringing is so loud that it could be heard from quite a distance. Up close it's a show in itself. I was listening to a requiem as I was running to keep up the pace and with all that clamor I felt transported back in time.


These photos were taken in various points of the route that I took this morning. This one below was taken well into the old quarter, drawing near what seems the wet market.

This one below was taken as I was running along the walls leading to the rear of the Cathedral.

I was running behind the cathedral when I took this shot:

The Archbishop's Palace is located next to the Cathedral, coming down from the pathway above the old walls of the city. I doubt it if the Archbishop lives here still, but it seems that he still does (I believe that some bishops don't anymore)

Another part of the city:

The bells were ringing again when I passed through the Cathedral. I took this shot as I was running away. Several people were looking up at the belfry as I passed. The bells are still rung the old-fashioned way, mind you. In fact I saw the bell ringer pulling the ropes while standing quite close to the bells.

This used to be an old college or something before it became the Museum of Navarra. I don't think that in the church next to it the liturgy is still celebrated, since it was closed when I passed by. The rest of the churches were open for the Mass, it being Sunday.

The church of St. John the Baptist. I got to know this by looking at the facade. That was very evident.

This is the entrance to the Taconera

A view of the city walls

Just to prove that it was I behind the camera and the photos...

Some people in the environment that I live in might not agree with me and in what I plan to do with my Sundays, but I think this is a time for me to take a break from the six days of work that I normally have. I prefer not to touch my books on Sunday nor work on anything related to my studies. What plan do I have for Sunday then? First among them is of course, prayer: the Mass, time dedicated to the Office of Readings and Lauds in the morning. Then I go out and jog, and after taking the shower either I read a novel or I work on this blog or prepare the homily for the next Sunday. I could watch a movie, either something related to history or a movie that has absolutely nothing to do with it. I have a siesta (which here seems to be spoken of in whispers) and I don't have anything against it. It's Sunday for God's sake! Sunday for me means to things: Prayer and Rest, as such, the Sunday Liturgy and the siesta go hand in hand!