It was a wonderful morning a few days before Christmas. My coworkers decided to go to Tagaytay City to check on retreat houses that our diocesan catechists may stay-in for a retreat in 2015. They invited me to tag along. After weeks of working late, I welcomed the short getaway; I could use some fresh air.
As I waited for my friends to pick me up at the corner of Araneta Avenue and Aurora Boulevard, I saw a little boy about 6 to 8 years old, begging a coconut vendor to give him a piece. I overheard him saying he has not eaten yet. I could not resist the urge to approach them and offered to pay for one. He excitedly took the coconut fruit and water. I asked him where his parents were. In between sips, he nonchalantly replied he has no mother and his father is in jail because of cellphone theft. He has no siblings, and he said he has no house and sleeps in the streets. I felt a searing pain in my heart.
The vendor, perhaps also filled with pity for the child exclaimed, "Kung ang Diyos ay Diyos na maawain, bakit Niya hinahayaang magdusa ang mga batang paslit?" (If God is a God of mercy, why does He allow little children to suffer?)
Before I could answer him, he left almost in a haste, and so did the little boy, and I was left dumbfounded on that street corner. There I was looking forward to a short trip away from the city to unwind, while many nameless destitute people are worrying about where to get money for their next meal. I was excited to have some relaxation outside Manila, but around me are people lacking not just in basic necessities but also in love and attention. I felt guilt and sorrow. I felt I was not doing enough to alleviate pain in the world.
After a few minutes, my friends came. And so began my journey to Tagaytay, contemplating the pain and suffering of this world.
In the many years that I have served as a volunteer in various organizations that take care of the sick, the elderly, the poor, the abandoned and the marginalized of society, I have seen pain and despair. At one point in my life, I have asked God why He could have the heart to allow suffering? I believe that with Him nothing is impossible, but why then can't He do something about those abandoned elderly on the streets? Or bring healing to all those cancer-stricken children so that they may live a full life? Or provide a safe and loving home for orphans?
I have always known the answer. This inextinguishable faith in my heart will always find solace in the Truth of the Gospels. But in silence, I begged the Good Lord to remind me once again. Perhaps I needed to just hear Him speak to me.
We arrived to a chilly weather at the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary Retreat center and was welcomed by Sr. Aida, FFM. Inside her office was a simple reminder of the real Reason for this season of merriment and glad tidings.
On her desk was a Nativity set ~ Saint Joseph and the Blessed Virgin Mary kneeling and adoring the Infant Jesus. Looking at the Holy Babe you'd expect to find joy. Ironically, all I could think about was the reason why Jesus had to be born for us all: our redemption through His Cross. And I thought about that hungry, homeless little boy I encountered earlier that day. I fought back tears as I thought of how he will be spending his Christmas while the rest of us shall be stuffing our bellies with good food and wine, and how we shall be celebrating till the wee hours of the morning with laughter and warmth with our loved ones. That boy will be cold, hungry, and all alone.
And I looked to Jesus. In silence, He comforted my heart and reminded me of His love. Jesus knew how it was to be alone at the moments of His greatest sufferings. No other human soul could ever comprehend nor share the agony of His heart as He hung on the Cross. That is why He fully knows and understands what every breaking heart is going through. He is Emmanuel after all; God with us who shares in our deepest loneliness. In His desolation, He reveals to us His infinite and unconditional love for humankind. Jesus invites us to come to Him that He may be able to take away our afflictions. He draws us to Himself that He may be able to dry all our tears.
As we continued on to have an ocular visit of the place, Sr. Aida led us to their chapel with a breathtaking view of the Taal Lake. Inside, as I would expect in a Franciscan congregation, hung a San Damiano Cross. I knelt in prayer and looked at the image of Jesus.
I was reminded of the salvific Love of Jesus. Saint John Paul II said in Salvifici Doloris, "Salvation means liberation from evil, and for this reason it is closely bound up with the problem of suffering... God gives His Son to 'the world' to free man from evil, which bears within itself the definitive and absolute perspective on suffering."
"God gives His only-begotten Son so that man 'should not perish' and the meaning of these words ' should not perish' is precisely specified by the words that follow: "but have eternal life". Man 'perishes' when he loses 'eternal life'. The opposite of salvation is not, therefore, only temporal suffering, any kind of suffering, but the definitive suffering: the loss of eternal life, being rejected by God, damnation. The only-begotten Son was given to humanity primarily to protect man against this definitive evil and against definitive suffering." (Saint John Paul II in Salvifici Doloris, IV, 14)
The Cross of Christ teaches us and empowers us to take up our own crosses and to be affirmed that in our own anguish, we partake of the suffering of Jesus. In Him we find comfort for our weary, burdened hearts. When we are faced with fears, we draw strength from Him who endured the ordeals and tortures of His Passion. When we feel alienated or rejected, He draws us to run to Him who alone can fill the emptiness our heart feels.
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| Maryridge Retreat House of the Good Shepherd Sisters |
As I waited for my friends to pick me up at the corner of Araneta Avenue and Aurora Boulevard, I saw a little boy about 6 to 8 years old, begging a coconut vendor to give him a piece. I overheard him saying he has not eaten yet. I could not resist the urge to approach them and offered to pay for one. He excitedly took the coconut fruit and water. I asked him where his parents were. In between sips, he nonchalantly replied he has no mother and his father is in jail because of cellphone theft. He has no siblings, and he said he has no house and sleeps in the streets. I felt a searing pain in my heart.
The vendor, perhaps also filled with pity for the child exclaimed, "Kung ang Diyos ay Diyos na maawain, bakit Niya hinahayaang magdusa ang mga batang paslit?" (If God is a God of mercy, why does He allow little children to suffer?)
Before I could answer him, he left almost in a haste, and so did the little boy, and I was left dumbfounded on that street corner. There I was looking forward to a short trip away from the city to unwind, while many nameless destitute people are worrying about where to get money for their next meal. I was excited to have some relaxation outside Manila, but around me are people lacking not just in basic necessities but also in love and attention. I felt guilt and sorrow. I felt I was not doing enough to alleviate pain in the world.
After a few minutes, my friends came. And so began my journey to Tagaytay, contemplating the pain and suffering of this world.
In the many years that I have served as a volunteer in various organizations that take care of the sick, the elderly, the poor, the abandoned and the marginalized of society, I have seen pain and despair. At one point in my life, I have asked God why He could have the heart to allow suffering? I believe that with Him nothing is impossible, but why then can't He do something about those abandoned elderly on the streets? Or bring healing to all those cancer-stricken children so that they may live a full life? Or provide a safe and loving home for orphans?
I have always known the answer. This inextinguishable faith in my heart will always find solace in the Truth of the Gospels. But in silence, I begged the Good Lord to remind me once again. Perhaps I needed to just hear Him speak to me.
We arrived to a chilly weather at the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary Retreat center and was welcomed by Sr. Aida, FFM. Inside her office was a simple reminder of the real Reason for this season of merriment and glad tidings.
 |
| Sr. Aida's Nativity display on her office desk |
And I looked to Jesus. In silence, He comforted my heart and reminded me of His love. Jesus knew how it was to be alone at the moments of His greatest sufferings. No other human soul could ever comprehend nor share the agony of His heart as He hung on the Cross. That is why He fully knows and understands what every breaking heart is going through. He is Emmanuel after all; God with us who shares in our deepest loneliness. In His desolation, He reveals to us His infinite and unconditional love for humankind. Jesus invites us to come to Him that He may be able to take away our afflictions. He draws us to Himself that He may be able to dry all our tears.
As we continued on to have an ocular visit of the place, Sr. Aida led us to their chapel with a breathtaking view of the Taal Lake. Inside, as I would expect in a Franciscan congregation, hung a San Damiano Cross. I knelt in prayer and looked at the image of Jesus.
 |
| The San Damiano Cross and an image of Mother Mary, Chapel of the FMM Retreat House in Tagaytay |
I was reminded of the salvific Love of Jesus. Saint John Paul II said in Salvifici Doloris, "Salvation means liberation from evil, and for this reason it is closely bound up with the problem of suffering... God gives His Son to 'the world' to free man from evil, which bears within itself the definitive and absolute perspective on suffering."
"God gives His only-begotten Son so that man 'should not perish' and the meaning of these words ' should not perish' is precisely specified by the words that follow: "but have eternal life". Man 'perishes' when he loses 'eternal life'. The opposite of salvation is not, therefore, only temporal suffering, any kind of suffering, but the definitive suffering: the loss of eternal life, being rejected by God, damnation. The only-begotten Son was given to humanity primarily to protect man against this definitive evil and against definitive suffering." (Saint John Paul II in Salvifici Doloris, IV, 14)
The Cross of Christ teaches us and empowers us to take up our own crosses and to be affirmed that in our own anguish, we partake of the suffering of Jesus. In Him we find comfort for our weary, burdened hearts. When we are faced with fears, we draw strength from Him who endured the ordeals and tortures of His Passion. When we feel alienated or rejected, He draws us to run to Him who alone can fill the emptiness our heart feels.
I look up to the Cross, the eyes of Jesus lovingly gazing at me. Love is the answer of the meaning of suffering, and I found it in the eyes of the image of Jesus hanging on the Cross. "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life" (St. John 3:16)
I offered a prayer for that little boy, an image of Christ hungry for our love. Pray with me for him, and for all those abandoned children, the sick, the last, the lost, the least, all dear to Jesus whose birthday we celebrate every Christmas.
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