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 15th
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 |
