The Lenten season is a time for retreats and recollections; a time for setting aside our usual routines in order to reflect on the state of our lives; a time for forgiveness and reconciliation; a time for giving thanks to the Almighty for all the blessings that have come our way. The season reminds me of two recollections in particular that I attended many years ago. The issues raised by the retreat masters, both Jesuits, remain as relevant today as they were in the past.
The first recollection was at Mary the Queen Church and was conducted by Fr. Mateo Sanchez.
Among other things, Father Sanchez pointed out the failure of our people to lift their sights and look beyond family and clan. While he considered as positive values our family-centeredness and close-knit ties with relatives, he also felt that there was a tendency to place family and clan interests above those of the community and the nation. This situation often led to narrow and parochial views resulting in a fragile sense of nationhood and, at times, a distorted sense of justice.
Two practical examples of what the good father was pointing out took place during the retreat—one just outside the Church and another inside. Outside, most of the vehicles were parked within lanes laid out almost perpendicular to the sidewalk. On the other hand, a number were parked parallel to the curb, a position which took up two or even three of the regular parking spaces. Obviously the owners/drivers of these cars were thinking solely of themselves with no regard or thought for other members of the community who would have been able to utilize the additional slots if they had followed the clearly marked lanes.
Inside the Church, while the retreat master was delivering his talk, a number of churchgoers were going through the Stations of the Cross as if nothing more important was taking place. They were intent on finishing their own program, oblivious to the community’s desire for concentration and also indicating, perhaps unwittingly, their disregard for the speaker.
If we push this idea a bit further, we could arrive at another typical behavioral aspect—the tendency to be more concerned with our rights and less with our responsibilities. While we have a Commission on Human Rights (CHR), perhaps even more important would be a Commission on Civic Responsibilities.
The second recollection was at the Santuario de San Jose in Greenhills with Fr. Ruben Tanseco as the retreat master.
Father Tanseco related to the congregation a story about a Negro who wanted to join an all-white parish in America’s Deep South during the 1960s. For some time, the Negro was being given all kinds of evasive answers by the parish priest until one day, the minister suggested that the Negro consult with the Lord and see what suggestions he would get from above.
After a few days, the Negro went back to the church and the pastor asked him what the Lord had told him, if anything. The Negro replied that, yes, he had been able to talk to the Lord about his problem and the Lord’s reply was this: “Forget about trying to join that particular parish. I’ve been trying to get in myself for the past 10 years and I haven’t been successful.”
The roots of the story can be traced to Father Tanseco’s difficulties in getting to the church inside Greenhills, apparently referring to the strict security measures adopted by the village authorities. He made the observation that it was more difficult to reach Santuario de San Jose than to get into Camp Aguinaldo headquarters of the Armed Forces of the Philippines.
One can understand the exclusivity of the village and I wonder if anyone could attend services here if they happened to be barefoot or raggedly dressed or looking unkempt. One can appreciate the wishes of the villagers for security against unwanted outsiders. But perhaps churches should be so located as to ensure that all would have ease of access to places of worship. The story about the Negro is quite revealing: It is most probable that the poor would have problems entering a gated enclave of the more affluent sectors of our society.
The same can be said about the cathedral inside Camp Aguinaldo. It exists basically for the convenience of the people inside the camp or who belong to the establishment. Would the guards allow just anyone who wanted to go to the church easy entrance into the camp? Maybe yes, maybe no. I repeat, a place of worship should be accessible to all—rich or poor; weak or powerful. After listening to Father Tanseco, I wondered if having these exclusive or inaccessible places of worship is how God wanted things to be done in the work of reaching out to as many of His people as possible.
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We are so used to praying in our lives. Many of us start the day with a prayer and also end it with another prayer. We say grace before meals and a lot of our other activities are preceded by prayer invocations.
But did you ever think that praying could have dangerous consequences?
Take, for instance, this man. He was walking in the woods one day, enjoying the beautiful scenery around him when he suddenly fell into a deep ravine. Fortunately, his fall was broken by a small tree sticking out of the side of the ravine over a hundred feet from the bottom. He was able to hang on to the tree with both arms but after awhile he knew that he would not last very long as he found himself growing weaker. So he started to pray to the heavens for help and a loud voice boomed from above saying, “I will help you but you must follow my instructions.” In desperation, the man answered that he would do anything and follow any order if only he would be rescued from his predicament. So the voice said, “Alright, the first thing you must do is to let go of the tree.”
The man looked down again and saw the sharp rocks at the bottom of the ravine and after some thought, shouted back at the heavens: “Is there anybody else up there?”
Sometimes the Lord has a way of calling our bluff. We must be willing to follow His guidance and accept the consequences of our prayers being answered.
At times, prayer can be dangerous business.