Antoine de Saint-Exupéry has this interesting parable about a little prince who lived in a little planet with its three small volcanoes and a haughty flower. One unforgettable chapter narrates about the meeting and separation of the little prince and a fox a he went about his inter-planetary journey. Their meeting was casual and yet wonderful:
“Good morning,” said the fox. “Good morning,” the little prince responded politely although when he turned around he saw nothing. “I’m right here,” the voice said, “under the apple tree.” “Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You’re very pretty to look at.” I’m a fox,” the fox said. “Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I’m so sad.” “I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I’m not tamed.” “Ah! Please excuse me,” said the little prince. But after some thought, he added, “What does that mean—‘tame’?” “It’s an act too often neglected,” said the fox. “It means to establish ties. To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in the entire world. To you, I shall be unique in the entire world…”
And so after much patient endurance, the little prince finally tamed the fox and they filled their days together with laughter and memories to cherish. The fox said, “While other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground, yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And look then. You see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The rice-field has nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that is now that you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…”
Their departure however was heartrending yet mystical:
The fox said, “I shall cry.” “It’s your fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…” “Yes that is so,” said the fox. “But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince. “Yes that is so,’ said the fox. “Then it has done you no good at all!” the little prince responded. “It has done me good,” said the fox, “because of the color of the grain-fields. Goodbye. Here is my secret, a very simple present of a secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. It is the time you have wasted for your friends that make them so important. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
A Burning Candle for President Cory's and our Nation's Health: A Pilgrim's Prayer
Hi! It’s been a long time since I’d presented myself with a burning candle and knelt before you, Father. When was the last time I kept myself quiet and grounded? When was the last time I visited you in your church? And oh, what’s the name again of that pastor your bishop sent to us here? My mind seems dusty these days. I’m sorry about it; been preoccupied doing this and that. I know you understand my restlessness and rebellious heart. I won’t abuse your kindness though. Just give me some time to while the time; there’s something I’ve wanted to grasp but can’t. I thought I’ve already snatched it. I’m mistaken. I think there’s a civil war happening inside myself.
But that’s not the reason why I’m praying to you again, my Lord. There are a lot of troubling things going on that are far more important than my selfish miseries—things that if left unattended to would turn catastrophic. Precisely that I’m running back to you to ask for your help.
As you’ve already heard them, people are becoming just like me, restless and rebellious. But unlike me, they’ve been turning to you in groups and in throng holding and hearing healing masses for dear Tita Cory. You’ve canalized their restlessness and angry hearts to unify them through that humble woman’s struggle. You’ve made them one again just as in the streets of Metro Manila during the last days of Martial Law, just like in EDSA in 1986. How wonderful you are!
And what a maidservant of yours Tita Cory is! She’d been your one instrument that channeled what could have been a bloody civil war into a peaceful rebirth of democracy in our land. She’d been a voice in the wilderness, like the prophets of old, just like John the Baptist calling on those in power to mend their ways. She’s been a constant companion of our people in their struggle for liberation from the untruthfulness pervading in our society today. Now, you’ve made her again share in the redemptive suffering of Bro as she endures the bed of pains. By her suffering you’re uniting once again the rich and the poor, the young and the old, the soldiers and the priests, the executives and the laborers, the conservatives and the liberals, the politicians and the radicals, the nuns and the prostitutes. Her bodily state is fragile yet such fragility is so strong and enamoring to summon the indifferent out of his apathy to join hands with the rest in the many communal gatherings done in your Name and Godself.
In the same manner, O Lord, that I’m turning to you today! Sure it is with string attached; but aren’t all prayers having string attached in them? Oh, pardon my logic. You see, there are a lot of things I’ve to understand. But that’s not my point, my Lord.
I’ve heard my nation’s cry of pain. I’ve wanted to do something about it. Yet I’m just feeling so helpless. I’m no superman. Tita Cory came to our rescue. She tried to speak out the truth but her voice was muffled in the marketplace of propaganda, where the amplified voices of sophistic charlatans with their doctrines of half-truths encased in brown envelops have successfully distracted our people from hearing the whistle blowing and exposés by those who can’t stomach corruptions in the present administration. Now, she too is in pain.
My collaborations have failed to bring out the desired effect, my Lord. I’m drained and frustrated. I’m alone in the wilderness by Nineveh. My shepherds have left me wandering about in the dessert of life. No, I elected to wander about as my shepherds betrayed my people. Let me be for a while. Let me complete the quadragesimal journey along the highways of life.
Strangers taunted me to sing songs of your glory. “But how could I sing the praises of the Lord in an alien land?” How could I join hand with them in supplications when they know not my people, nor they care about my land and my dear Tita Cory? The only power left in me is a heart of dying embers of faith and hope. I pray, fan it back to life. Fan it at first with gentle breeze to revive it and then with such gustiness that it may be aflame with zeal for your Truth, O Father.
But more than that, will it be not too much to ask you to give Tita Cory and our country, beds of roses instead? She’d suffered enough just as our people have suffered much. It is just a matter of time to see them march the streets again chanting, “Tama na, Sobra na! Ramdam na randam na talaga ang kahirapan! Palitan na!”
As I bid you goodbye and in the stillness of my often restless and rebellious heart, I pray to you, O God, hear the prayers of the many and diverse hearts conjoined these days for the health of our dear President Cory and that of our nation. Though I’m miles apart from them wandering about in exile, let them feel my heart as if a burning candle praying their prayer, singing their songs, hoping their hopes for the Filipino nation. For we are one with your Godself through Jesus, our Lord, and the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete.
Amen.
Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola
July 31, 2009 @ 6 p.m.
Balete, Aklan
But that’s not the reason why I’m praying to you again, my Lord. There are a lot of troubling things going on that are far more important than my selfish miseries—things that if left unattended to would turn catastrophic. Precisely that I’m running back to you to ask for your help.
As you’ve already heard them, people are becoming just like me, restless and rebellious. But unlike me, they’ve been turning to you in groups and in throng holding and hearing healing masses for dear Tita Cory. You’ve canalized their restlessness and angry hearts to unify them through that humble woman’s struggle. You’ve made them one again just as in the streets of Metro Manila during the last days of Martial Law, just like in EDSA in 1986. How wonderful you are!
And what a maidservant of yours Tita Cory is! She’d been your one instrument that channeled what could have been a bloody civil war into a peaceful rebirth of democracy in our land. She’d been a voice in the wilderness, like the prophets of old, just like John the Baptist calling on those in power to mend their ways. She’s been a constant companion of our people in their struggle for liberation from the untruthfulness pervading in our society today. Now, you’ve made her again share in the redemptive suffering of Bro as she endures the bed of pains. By her suffering you’re uniting once again the rich and the poor, the young and the old, the soldiers and the priests, the executives and the laborers, the conservatives and the liberals, the politicians and the radicals, the nuns and the prostitutes. Her bodily state is fragile yet such fragility is so strong and enamoring to summon the indifferent out of his apathy to join hands with the rest in the many communal gatherings done in your Name and Godself.
In the same manner, O Lord, that I’m turning to you today! Sure it is with string attached; but aren’t all prayers having string attached in them? Oh, pardon my logic. You see, there are a lot of things I’ve to understand. But that’s not my point, my Lord.
I’ve heard my nation’s cry of pain. I’ve wanted to do something about it. Yet I’m just feeling so helpless. I’m no superman. Tita Cory came to our rescue. She tried to speak out the truth but her voice was muffled in the marketplace of propaganda, where the amplified voices of sophistic charlatans with their doctrines of half-truths encased in brown envelops have successfully distracted our people from hearing the whistle blowing and exposés by those who can’t stomach corruptions in the present administration. Now, she too is in pain.
My collaborations have failed to bring out the desired effect, my Lord. I’m drained and frustrated. I’m alone in the wilderness by Nineveh. My shepherds have left me wandering about in the dessert of life. No, I elected to wander about as my shepherds betrayed my people. Let me be for a while. Let me complete the quadragesimal journey along the highways of life.
Strangers taunted me to sing songs of your glory. “But how could I sing the praises of the Lord in an alien land?” How could I join hand with them in supplications when they know not my people, nor they care about my land and my dear Tita Cory? The only power left in me is a heart of dying embers of faith and hope. I pray, fan it back to life. Fan it at first with gentle breeze to revive it and then with such gustiness that it may be aflame with zeal for your Truth, O Father.
But more than that, will it be not too much to ask you to give Tita Cory and our country, beds of roses instead? She’d suffered enough just as our people have suffered much. It is just a matter of time to see them march the streets again chanting, “Tama na, Sobra na! Ramdam na randam na talaga ang kahirapan! Palitan na!”
As I bid you goodbye and in the stillness of my often restless and rebellious heart, I pray to you, O God, hear the prayers of the many and diverse hearts conjoined these days for the health of our dear President Cory and that of our nation. Though I’m miles apart from them wandering about in exile, let them feel my heart as if a burning candle praying their prayer, singing their songs, hoping their hopes for the Filipino nation. For we are one with your Godself through Jesus, our Lord, and the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete.
Amen.
Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola
July 31, 2009 @ 6 p.m.
Balete, Aklan
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