Salt and light
The story is told about a German pastor who was to speak at a gathering, and who requested the emcee to make a simple and basic introduction of him sans titles or achievements, to just say that he is a humble shepherd or something to that effect. So the emcee said: “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you our speaker, a simple German shepherd!”
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In today’s Gospel (Mt.5, 13-16), Jesus tells us the most simple and most basic description of what a Christian should be—i.e., the salt of the earth and a light of the world. We are called to make a difference in this world. To be like salt is to be of substance, and to be like light is to be of radiance, to give glory to God.
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A selfish person who has little or no sense of right and wrong is a person of little or no taste. Such a person will end up spreading darkness rather than light. Selfish people end up living insignificant lives because they do not live for something or someone greater than themselves. They do not live worthwhile lives. Let us ask ourselves today: Am I living a significant, worthwhile life?
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Philippine Geography 101. Speaking of salt, please note that the literal meaning of Pangasinan is “a place where salt is made.” And speaking of light, the literal meaning of Laoag is “brightness/light.” The challenge for all of us is to become aware that becoming salt and light is directly connected to our mission as persons who follow the path of righteousness, and who are witnesses to God’s presence in this dark and lonely world.
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Salt and light best describe the lives that our parents, Guillermo and Concepcion, lived. To the best of their ability, they followed the path of righteousness. Papa could have become very rich as a collector at the Port of Manila of the Bureau of Customs, where he served for 23 years. Mama, too, could have done the same as a teacher, being an education graduate of the Philippine Normal School. But they chose service, integrity, humility, and self-sacrifice. They touched the hearts of and inspired many people precisely because they did a lot of good deeds that gave glory, not to themselves, but to God.
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Forty-eight years ago in July 1966, my parents brought me to Christ the King Seminary in Quezon City, to become a seminarian. I was then 12 years old. Last Feb. 6, my siblings and I brought the remains of our Papa and Mama to The Garden at Christ the King Seminary, the very same place, where they now rest in peace and await the resurrection. Little did they—and we—know then that this will be so.
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A story about generosity. When Papa died on June 23, 1987, what made me weep was that four days before his burial, we had no place to bury him. He had two memorial lots, which he, out of generosity, had given to some needy relative without our knowing it. We prayed, and God heard our prayer. A good friend of Papa, a beneficiary of his goodness, donated a big lot for him at Himlayang Pilipino. Following his example of generosity, our family has decided to donate the lot he used for 28 years to a religious congregation who may need it. Generosity begets generosity.
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What Mama could not do in her lifetime she did in her death. Mama always wanted us her children to visit her together, and to spend time, talk, and pray with one another. That did not happen often, or not as much as she wished. But during the eight days that her urn was at home, all of us were there every single night, praying together, eating together, talking and laughing together. In her death, she brought us closer to one another.
May the death of a loved one bear fruit in each one of us. May the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace. And may we, the living, live in peace. Amen!
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“You go now, Father Jerry. You still have something to do.” Those were Mama’s last words to me as I left her hospital room, and she waved at me with her assuring and loving smile. That was typical of Mama—always letting go, not wanting to be a burden, and so self-effacing. She had so much respect for me and my priesthood. She was, and she still is, the unfailing anchor of my priesthood.
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Mama was such a giving person until the very end. Every night during her 8-day wake at the house, after our novena prayers, we had some kind of ukay-ukay moments wherein our family members, relatives, friends and helpers got a small remembrance from her—be it a rosary, a prayer book, an inspirational book, a towel, or a ballpen she had used. She did not leave behind any expensive piece of jewelry or cash. Whatever little she had, she had given them away long before she died.
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Our youngest brother, Tim, said it so well: “Yes, I have regrets that I did not express my love for Mama more. But I will not stop there. I will honor Mama with my decision to become a better person from now on, and to make her smile wherever she is now.” Yes, life is about moving on, and loving on.
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A moment with the Lord:
Lord, help me to live a life full of substance and light. Amen.
