A Special Child

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At Christmas, the child born in the manger is special.
Thus, Christmas is a special time for children.
During Christmas, children are the focus and center
of our special attention.
This Christmas, I think of special children.
Or children with special needs.
If God can become man, as he did on that first Christmas,
why couldn’t have made every child perfect?

In his novel The Clowns Of God, the second book in his Vatican Trilogy, Morris West poignantly explores this difficult question. Why does God allow children with imperfections of handicap to be born? West, through one of the characters in his novel, suggests three reasons.

First, special children touch our hearts and awaken the humanity in us. It is indeed heartbreaking to see an innocent child blighted with a defect or handicap through no fault of his own. The unfairness of the situation stirs what is deeply human in every person. Even the hardest of hearts starts beating in compassion.

Then, such special children evokes in us a strong desire to do something. Faced with such a disquieting situation, we are specially moved to want to do something. We cannot just stand there and not do somethings. Pitiful as the child may be, it motivates us to show some tenderness and kindness and to do something good.

Finally, such children are the signs of God’s special presence in the world. These children and totally pure and will never be touched by evil. They remain in their pure and pristine state, just as they were when they left the hands of God. Their spirits still has the smell of heaven in them.

A Blessed Christmas to children with special needs.

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On Sleep And Dreams

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Sleep in heavenly peace . . . . 

 

The angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream . . . .

 

 

The Gospel readings during the Christmas season are replete on stories about sleep and dreams.

i always find something mysterious and salubrious about sleep. Nothing is more refreshing and invigorating than a good nap or a good night’s sleep. In fact, many health problems are caused or exacerbated by chronic lack of sleep. Regular sleep is part of any healthy lifestyle.

When I am asleep I may be dead to the world; but I feel it is the time when I am most alive. My consciousness (or my soul, my spirit) is what makes me human. It is life an iceberg. My conscious self, which is what I am more familiar with, is just the tip; the bulk of the iceberg being my unconscious. There is also the subconscious which is the area between my conscious self and my unconscious, that area between sleep and wakefulness.

Strange as it may seem, I feel I am most myself in my unconscious, like when I am asleep. It is the area where all my defences and masks are down. It is the area where all my deepest memories and fondest dreams remain alive. Many of my actions and motivations which I often cannot explain not understand come from my unconscious and subconscious. It is where I can truly meet God; for somewhere there I still know where I came from and whom I came from.

These days, I see my sleep time as sacred time and a sacred place. In my last wakeful moments, I tell the Lord that I shall be meeting Him in my unconscious, in my sleep. I ask him where he would be taking me tonight and what will we be talking about. And when I awake, I immediately try to recall what “happened” in my sleep. I often wake up rested; but I also feel that I did a lot during my sleep. My dreams become clearer; my plans get hatched; my ideas get a better and bigger perspective.

Yes, I believe I truly encounter God specially in my sleep. And yes, he comes to me in my dreams.

 

 

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Hail, Mary!

 

Our usual image of Mary is that of a calm and collected lady.
But I would imagine her otherwise during those days surrounding the birth of Jesus.
Here was a young maiden betrothed to a man who was probably much older than she.
Then, there was this mysterious apparition where
an angel told her she would become pregnant.
Her betrothed was of course shocked and was ready to break off with her quietly
to save both of them from the scandal and embarrassment.
They probably had a fight or big misunderstanding.
And she flew off to visit her cousin Elizabeth in some distant part of Judah.
After a few months with her cousin, her husband came to fetch her.
Apparently, he has had a change of mind.
But it was mainly because there was an imperial census mandated
and they had to register in his town of origin.
And there her due time arrived and she would deliver her baby.
But there was no room for them in the inn.
The only place they could find to stay was a stable.

This story sound so different from the Christmas story we are familiar with.
The reason for the bi difference is the faith of Mary, as expressed by her ‘Fiat’.
It is also the reason behind Joseph’s gracious acceptance of Mary’s condition.
Faith transforms even the most difficult situation into a celebration.
There is lot we can learn by saying ‘Fiat’ like Mary,
to life and to God’s will, to whatever may come our way.
Faith makes the difference.

 

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What Child Is This?

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The Infancy narratives are among the most beautiful and moving of the stories in the Gospels. One can actually feel the peace, joy and love while reading them. These stories serve as the reason for the joy and happiness we feel during the season of Christmas.

But I wonder. Instead of peace and joy, I sometimes wonder that people in the Christmas story must have felt fear and anxiety. Consider Mary. A young girl barely in her teens and mysteriously pregnant, not by her betrothed. And now about to give birth in a place far from her comfort zone. In the remote town of her husband, which she probably is visiting for the first time. And there is no room for them to stay anywhere. And Joseph must have been bewildered. All these strange and mysterious things that have been happening to him and his betrothed. And all these strange dreams he has been having. I can imagine him being totally clueless. Then there were shepherds who dropped by, because the stable where the couple were staying must have been probably theirs. They trembled with fear at the sight of the strange apparitions of the angels. Was the joy (or even bewilderment?) they experienced at seeing the baby in their manger enough to overcome their initial fear?

The Infancy narratives, I understand, were actually the last parts of the Gospels to be written. The Gospels were in fact written backwards. The earliest versions of the Gospels were stories about the Passion, Death, Resurrection of Christ. They were the results of the post-Resurrection experience of the first and earliest disciples. As more people joined them, the new comers wanted and were hungry for more stories about the Resurrected Christ. What he did. What he said. How he lived. Where he came from.

The Resurrection, a life-changing event for the early Christians, is rooted in and had the beginnings in the Incarnation. And in telling and re-telling the story of the Risen Christ, it was a matter of finding the beginnings of the Empty Tomb in the Manger for the Gospel writters. Thus, the Christmas stories were born. Just as the mystical and life-changing Resurrection experience prompted the early Christians to go forth and proclaim their Risen Lord; so they found inspiration in this Lord first becoming human in the Incarnation in the Little Town of Bethlehem where “the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” And that became part of their proclamation as well.

The Man on the Cross is the same beautiful baby lying in the Manger.

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Thinking of St. Joseph and Tatang

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Today is the birthday of my father. It is strange that I have grown closer to him now in my old age. I often think about him and have felt myself be closer to him than ever. I have come to appreciate him better. I now understand his silences, his quiet moments. I am grateful for his love for learning which I see alive even in my grandchildren. He was the first in his big family to go to college. He inspired several nephews and nieces to also love learning and excel academically as well. I even understand now how and why he would sometimes explode when things simply got too much to bear. But he was a charmer, always ready with his very disarming smile.

Often lately, I wish I could have done more for my father when he was still areound. I tried to show my love for him when he was alive. But being where he was then and I being his age now, I realize there were a lot of other things I could have done for him. If indeed we get to choose who our parents would be, I have chosen well choosing my Tatang and Ima.

In a lot of ways, Tatang reminds me a lot of Saint Joseph. Joseph was a man of few words. He appears only in the Infancy narratives of the Gospels. And there is not a single word that he was quoted as saying. Tatang was also a man of few words. But I knew he was deep.

Joseph was a dreamer. He got his instructions from God in his dreams. When I was a kid, I would often catch my father staring at the ceiling lost in his daydreams. There were times, he shared with me some of these dreams. I was not really listening then, engrossed as I was with my games and toys. Now, in my old age, I try to recall and reconstruct those half-remembered conversations with him.

Joseph was a carpenter. Tatang came from a family of carpenters. He grew up to be a teacher -the only professional in their family. And guess what he taught. Building Construction, which is a glorified title for carpentry skills. He also taught himself drafting skills and was accepted as an architect among his peers.

I sometimes wonder in my prayers what traits did Jesus acquire or inherit from Joseph. His decisiveness? His perseverance and persistence? Definitely his goodness and kindness.

I am deeply grateful for the gift of life I have received through Tatang and Ima. I find inspiration and affirmation that I have been instrumental in bringing life to seven other beings into this world. Our three sons, we were able to plan and prepare for to a certain extent. Our four grandchildren were totally beyond our control. Nothing I could think of or imagine has prepared me for the joys and fulfilment they have brought into our lives. Indeed, everything is grace. Everything I have received and gone through is gift. Undeserved. I have done nothing to merit what I have been given as gift and grace.

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What We Seek And Hope For

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The world today is like a wilderness.
There are wars in many parts of the world.
In places not visited by wars or violence,
there is the ever present threat of terrorism.
There is constant fear and panic in financial markets,
which are forever driven by greed and selfishness.

Yet in the midst of all this turmoil and drift,
there are voices crying out in this wilderness,
proclaiming that the Lord is nigh,
that salvation is at hand,
that man is born for greater and better things,
that love will save us all and that peace will eventually reign.

Do I join those in panic or am I among the proclaimers?

Every epic tale since time immemorial has always involved
a protagonist going on a quest or a mission to rescue people in distress,
or win a kingdom or save his people.
Along the way, he encounters all sorts of difficulties and obstacles.
He is helped by a host of other people, many of them strangers.
He is distracted by still many others, some of whom are close to him.
In the process, he discovers himself and realizes
that the quest was after all his own self-discovery.
Thus, it is in real life.
We find ourselves only when we seek out the good of and in others.

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We Love; Therefore, We Are.

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“I think; therefore, I am.”
Thus, Descartes has spawned the rationalistic and scientific culture
we see dominant in the West today.
It also explains the intense individualism (“I am.”) we see.

A more realistic philosophy, I believe, is
“I co-exist; therefore, I am.”
My existence assumes others in my life.
My being here is contingent on links to nature, people and God.
If nature were any colder, we would all be frozen stiff;
and if it were any hotter we would all be burnt to a crisp.
We need others to live as it takes a village to raise a man.
And finally, we need a loving God who has made this web and circle of life
the wonderful experience that it is.

And this God took on our nature and became like us
to teach us the ultimate lesson:
“We love; therefore, we are.”

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Prepare The Way, 2

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Like a light piercing the darkness,
Like the sun peeking through the leaves.
God’s grace breaks into our lives
This is what happens when one believes.

He comes to be like one of us
To share in our joys and sorrows
From him, we’ve received the gift of life
And, indeed, all of our tomorrows.

The real encounter with Christ
is a life-changing experience.
His call is for us to change for the better,
to conversion and repentance.
Thus, we prepare for his coming:
Prepare ye the way of the Lord.
Make straight his path
for the Incarnation of His Word.
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Prepare The Way

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Our lives today are cluttered with so many things;
and yet emptiness reigns in many hearts.
There are so many lights we fail to see the Light.
There is so much noise we cannot hear the Word.
There is so much busyness doing business,
there is no time to live the Life.
Stay awake.
Be ready.
Rejoice!

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A Day Of Gratitude And Generosity

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Today, Anabelle and I attended the Christmas Party of the retired teachers and staff members of Xavier School. The party was simple and pretty modest by local standards for Christmas parties. But it was fun and well attended. The food was enjoyable, complete with a lechon straight from Estrelle’s farm; the games were ordinary yet entertaining; there were no grand prizes like cars or trips but no one went home empty handed.

What touched me most about today was the support and generosity of the Xavier Alumni for their teachers. It has now become a tradition in the school that Jubilarians among the alumni do something special for teachers each year. They do this out of a deep sense of gratitude and totally voluntarily. They acknowledge the role their teachers have played in their lives, often citing instances of teachers putting them on the right track. Looking back, they realize how ‘Cher has been a presence and a good and positive influence in their formative years.

It brought back to me too bittersweet memories of my years of teaching in Xavier. This is where Anabelle and I met. We have developed many lifetime friendships here. And I have seen first hand the dedication and generosity that my fellow teachers would put into their teaching. I remember the long hours after school, and even weekends, that they’d sacrifice catching with paperwork and deadlines. I remember the love and caring that the teachers gave to the students, never expecting anything in return, but willing to spend that extra minute or even an hour with a student having difficulties. And the difficulties these teachers handled were not always academic. There were tears; there was laughter. There were questions to be answered; there were advices to be given. Sometimes in banter; other times in all earnestness. Nothing is ever too trivial to talk about with ‘Cher. And neither was there anything ‘Cher wasn’t willing to shoot the breeze with.

And the Xavier School teachers simply gave it their all. They made for excellent teachers. They make for even better lifetime friends. We still stick together till these days. I truly admire their generosity and this prayer of the First Jesuit truly is their own:

Lord Jesus, teach me to be generous;
teach me to serve you as you deserve,
to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and not to seek for rest,
to labor and not to seek reward,
except that of knowing that I do your will.

Amen.

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