Chronicles of the Daily Grind

i have been out from the community for two days to attend to the wake and funeral of my grandmother at pampanga. i was overwhelmed by the fidelity of our old folks to superstitious beliefs as regards the cult of the dead. no matter how i try to dissuade them, it would all end into following what has been the "practice."

in these short days, i could only remember these superstitious encounters:

• no family member of the deceased should take a bath in the duration of the wake, especially at that very house where the wake was held. (i could not believe that some of my relatives haven't taken their bath for 7 days)
• no family member of the deceased should accompany a visiting friend to leave the house. ("this is to avoid the chain of death from occurring.")
  
• for the same reason mentioned, no visiting friend should take home anything (food, candies, material things, etc), taken from the house where the wake is held.
  
• thou shalt attend to the deceased 24/7. of course, family members may take turns, while others would sleep.
• i do not know for what reason, no family member should iron their clothes nor have their clothes ironed, at least, in the duration of the wake.
  
• rotate the coffin before bringing it out from the house ("so that the dead my be disoriented and never come back.")
• close all the windows and the doors of the house right after the coffin (the deceased) is brought out of the house.
  
• together with the coffin, all the things that were used during the wake should be brought out of the house.
• the coffin (deceased) should never retrace the same path it went through
  
• break the rosary and "you break the chain of death."
• all little children should go over the coffin "that the deceased may not visit them."
• while the coffin is being lowered, i heard a man murmuring in kapampangan, "you you have finished your journey, please send me your good fortune as i would need it.i promise you that i would pray for you for as long as i live."
  

there are a lot more, i think. these things caught my attention as i shook my head in exasperation. it's too hard to break an old tradition that our old folks have held on for many years.

reflecting on this moved me to realize the motive behind their "practice." people hold onto the superstitious beliefs, perhaps because they are to afraid to die. our blind necessity to follow them simply reflects how weak our faith and hope in God.

although i may have already learned this through catechesis, this experiences have all the more confirmed it. i get to all the more appreciate God's wisdom and love for giving us our freedom to run our lives and His grace to live it in its fullness.

when the remains of my grandmother has finally been laid to rest, i heard my uncle say in the vernacular, "she's done, and i'm not yet."

it's a profound thought to bring, "she's done, and i'm not yet." i find this not simply about reaching the end, or finishing the race as st. paul would say, it's about how we finish well and live life fully as we take all the good opportunities to better ourselves, to bring ourselves to perfection which God has wrought for us.

Posted by brodiz at 4:20 AM | Permalink | Comments

Have you always thought of God as "Almighty"?
Here is another way of looking at God:

Ang Diyos ko'y hindi isang Diyos na matigas ang loob,
mahirap lapitan, walang pakiramdam, hindi tinatablan, di marunong masaktan.

Ang Diyos ko'y mahina.
Kalahi ko lang siya. At kalahi niya ako.
Tao siya at ako naman ay halos Diyos na.
Minamahal niya ako kahit ako'y abo at alabok lamang para naman makatikim ako ng kabanalan.

Pag-ibig ang nagpapahina sa Diyos ko.
Nararanasan ng Diyos ko ang makataong saya, ang pakikipagkaibigan, ang sarap na dulot ng daigdig at lahat ng nasa daigdig.
Nararanasan din niyang magutom, mapagod, antukin. Nadama niya ang maraming bagay.
Nainis din siya at nagalit.
Banayad siya tulad ng isang bata.
Ang Diyos ko'y natakot din sa harap ng kamatayan.
Ang Diyos ko'y pinasuso ng kanyang ina at sa gayo'y nadama niya at nainom ang buong pggiliw ng isang babae.

Hindi naman niya talaga ginusto ang sakit at hindi rin siya naging kaibigan ng karamdaman.
Kaya nga pinagaling niya ang mga maysakit.
Nagtiis din siyang mapatapon sa ibang lupain.
Minsang usigin, minsan purihin.

Minahal ng Diyos ko ang lahat ng makatao: mga bagay at tao, tinapay at pagkababae, ang mabubuti at pati masasama.
Ang Diyos ko'y nakakagat sa kanyang panahon.
Kung ano ang damit ng iba, siya ring damit niya. Ang ginamit niyang wika ay wikang katutubo, ang wika ng kanyang bayan.
Nagpawis din siya at nagbanat-ng-buto.
At sumigaw siya tulad ng mga propeta.
Ang Diyos ko'y mahina kapag kaharap ay mahina, at mabagsik naman sa mga palalo.

Bata pa siya nang mamatay pagkat siya'y tapat.
Pinatay nila siya sapagkat, sa kanilang paningin, itinatakwil niya ang katotohanan.
Subalit ang Diyos ko'y namatay nang walang kinamumuhian.
Nang mamatay siya, siya pa mismo ang gumawa pa ng palusot para sa pumatay sa kanya. At lampas pa ito sa pagpapatawad.

Ang Diyos ko'y mahina.
Sinira ng Diyos ko ang matandang patakarang "ngipin sa ngipin", ang paghihiganting may kakitiran ng isip, upang simulan ang panahon ng pag-ibig at ng isang bagong himagsikan.

Ang Diyos ko, kahit na siya'y inilugmok sa lupa, subsob ang mukha, itinatwa, pinabayaan, walang nakaunawa, ay patuloy pa ring umibig.

Kaya nalupig ng Diyos ko ang kamatayan.
At sumibol mula sa kanyang mga kamay ang isang bagong bulaklak-- ang muling pagkabuhay!
Kaya't lahat tayo'y bumabangon mula sa ating libingan--lahat-- tao ma't mga bagay.

Ang daming mga taong nahihirapang tumanggap sa Diyos long mahina, sa Diyos kong umiiyak, sa Diyos kong ayaw ipagtanggol ang kanyang sarili!
Hirap silang tanggapin ang Diyos kong pinabayaan ng Diyos.
Ang Diyos kong kailangang mamatay upang magtagumpay.
Ang Diyos kong humirang sa isang magnanakaw at kriminal bilang unang santo ng kanyang Simbahan.
Ang bata kong Diyos na pinagbintangang nanggugulo ng lipunan.
Ang Diyos kong siyang pari at propeta na namatay na biktima ng lahat ng nakakahiyang pag-uusig ng relihiyon sa buong kasaysayan.

Mahirap tanggapin ang Diyos ko, ang kaibigan ng buhay, ang Diyos kong nagdusa sa tinik ng tukso, ang Diyos kong nagpawis ng dugo bago maako ang kalooban ng Ama.

Ang Diyos na ito, ang mahinang Diyos kong ito ay talagang mahirap matanggap ng mga naniniwalang ang tagumpay ay nasa pananakop,
na ang pagtatanggol sa sarili ay nasa pagpatay sa kapwa,
na ang kaligtasan ay nakasalalay sa lakas at hindi isang biyaya lamang mula sa itaas,
na ang kahinaan bilang tao ay makasalanan,
para sa nag-aakalang ang pagpapakabanal ay pamamanhid ng pakiramdam.

Ang Diyos kong mahina ay talagang mahirap matanggap ng mga taong patuloy pa ring nangangarap tungkol sa isang Diyos na tila hindi tao.

I first heard of this article in our class in Process Thought. It was translated by the Jesuit Albert Alejo from Juan Arias' "My God is Weak." I'm still looking for that English translation.

The bottom line is that God LOVES. I would rather conceive of God as this than an indifferent God. We have been polarized into thinking that God as omnipotent cannot be affected by us. No lover is unaffected to and by the beloved. This sort of weakness is not really something negative, something against his perfection. This weakness does not decrease his value as God. This weakness, in fact, increases us... all because He loves us. Nothing is ever so consoling than this.

I have heard of Juan Arias' book The God I Don't Believe In which I found to be intriguing after reading a portion of his work. This moves me to avail of me this literary piece. Juan Arias is quoted to having said this:

“No, I shall never believe in:
the God who catches man by surprise in a sin of weakness,
the God who condemns material things,
the God who loves pain,
the God who flashes a red light against human joys,
the God who is a magician and sorcerer,
the God who makes Himself feared,
the judge-God who can give a verdict only with a rule book in His hands,
the God who ‘plays at’ condemning,
the God who ‘sends’ people to hell,
the God who ‘causes’ cancer or ‘makes’ a woman sterile,
the God who is not love and who does not know how to transform into love everything He touches.
Yes, my God, is the other God.”

While others would resent and remark that:
"who the hell told you that this is the kind of God I believe in?"
It simply emphasizes the fact that God above all loves and that He is LOVE Himself.

Is God Almighty? I believe He is. No mightier and greater love there is than a love that is so weak in the face of the beloved.

Posted by brodiz at 5:21 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'd like to begin this critique on Hartshorne’s Event-Metaphysics with a poem written by a certain Dietrich Bon Hoeffer. He was a young theologian of great promise and was martyred by the Nazis for his participation in the plot against the life of Adolf Hitler.

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,

As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equally, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were
compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptibly woe-begone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!
(March 4,1946)

While this man languishes inside the prison as he awaits his execution, he significantly asks a very profound and philosophical question, a question worth pondering for us all, a question that could lead us to the truth of ourselves.

If so I ask, who am I? Am I defined by my size and shape and color and weight? Am I defined by my clothes I wear? Not any accidents could ever define who I am. Classical Thomists would simply refer to me as ME, as simply ME. A substance. A particular individual substance. Rusty as he is. The problem here is that I could not fully grasp or understand myself as I in this regard. I could not fully grasp or understand Rusty, that particular individual substance as to who am I really. And if we refer to this, how could we ever answer that question, who am I? Who am I, then? Rusty? The substance Rusty? How could we ever explain that? I agree with Charles Hartshorne as to how Classical Thomism falls short in resorting to “substance” especially in response to this question, as a basic unit of reality.

But if Hartshorne, on the other hand, were to answer the question, who am I? Am I the person who entered the seminary at the age of 22? Who extended the novitiate? Who had his prophylaxis last Saturday? Who slept late last night? Who just read you the poem of Hoeffer? Am I who experienced all these? Hartshorne would bet that I am? But am I just simply a collection of events? Hartshorne, as I would interpret him, would say no as he would claim the “I” undergoing all these series of events which is not equated with the collection of events. Still, the question “who am I?” remains to be a mystery.

Who am I? This question recognizes the existence and the validity of the SUBJECT, that which both camps do not deny. Classical Thomism would view this SUBJECT as something subsisting, persisting, possessing a static nature, while Hartshorne would view the SUBJECT as going through experiences and events and being understood as something dynamic. Nevertheless, in the Classical Thomistic mind, this SUBJECT is essentially a substance, which I know the Hartshornean mind would not accept for it is not properly the case.

But that the SUBJECT that is going through a series of events that merely speak of who I am NOW is what I believe and hold onto. This is my position. And so who am I? Who is Rusty? I’m not limited to something, to my substance or to an event, nor am I limited to all my experiences as of yesterday. I am more than that… NOW! I exist. I am… and I am constantly changing and growing and creating and becoming. And so I feel that no one has the right to judge me, to have prejudices against me, to put me in a box. It is not about that I am consistent or not about something, I simply “become” everyday. Everyday the ME gets better and better, being shaped by experiences and events. For this reason, I do not believe that persons are born “worthless.” They are as significant as any person living right now.

The “I” that goes through events is seen in a man endowed with freedom. I agree with the both camps. Freedom is not only voluntariness or an act of indifference according to the Classical Thomists. But also, in the full sense, freedom is creativity according to Hartshorne. Yet, however, this freedom for Hartshorne is also extended to the other creatures below man. Not the rocks, he would say, but the molecules or sub-atomic particles that has the tendency to at times break from the natural flow or cycle of determination. While that may be true, the natural movement or law remains. And to press further, I would argue that even animals and human beings are made up of atoms and sub-atomic particles. Even a strand of our hair and a dead skin cell may contain these. Thus, it would then appear that we and the world are replete of this “freedom.” Consequently, I feel that this would tend to reduce “freedom” into simply a break from routine and lose that what Hartshorne claims as “creative freedom” which is freedom in the full sense that undoubtedly, the human being could properly exercise.

Yet, I believe that reality is indeed a social process. It doesn’t have for lower creatures to possess that freedom for all beings to interact. I still hold the causality of nature and the creative freedom of man as sufficient to explain this interconnectedness. Yet I believe that nature is part of the social process, such that according to the Chaos theory, a flutter of butterfly could cause a tornado in one part of the world. Everything is seen as interconnected. And we human beings play a very significant and primary role in this interconnectedness. Yet, what needs to be highlighted in this interconnectedness is that human being encounters. Consequently, the human being undergoes events and experiences. Thus we say that every human being has a story to tell that is in connection with the story of others or even the story of the things and nature he so encounters.

To sum up all these, I mostly agree with Hartshorne in his view of man as a process and in-process, a subject undergoing events in creative freedom who eventually, grows, creates, and becomes something “more.” Man is also in process with others and things in nature in his encounter and experience with them. It’s not necessary for created beings below man to possess creative freedom themselves to participate in the social process, for their existence, causality and our experience with them suffice in order to be part of that social process, yet man is the key player of that social process in the sense that he makes up the ‘career’ or ‘history’ in a state of continuing becoming, confronted by that basic question posed by Hoeffer, “who am I?” Who knows? In the end, we might end up agreeing with him:

“Whoever I am, You know, 0 God, that I am Yours!”

Posted by brodiz at 6:42 PM | Permalink | Comments

ON MY FIRST OBEDIENCE

January 11, 2007 (Friday). I received my first obedience from our Provincial Superior. Anxiety mixed with anticipation consumed me as I await the “verdict.” Pondering on these feelings more deeply, it reveals a struggle against obedience, the traces of wanting to be in control when obedience would rather ask for a surrender of the will. Yet, I am happy and satisfied with the obedience I received. I wonder how it is, if it were otherwise.

PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSA

There are six treatises and sixty theses to commit to memory, not including the comprehensive interconnectedness of one thought after the other, as well as the synthesis of each treatise and the entire Thomistic philosophy. There are six weeks or forty-five days more to go before the day of reckoning. Yet, I still don’t feel the pressure that much, although I have been diligently studying these past few days upon return from vacation. I am so fired up probably due to the good news of my obedience. Our Postnovitiate motto has now a face: Pro vobis studeo.

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Recently I have been asking permission to extend for my studies at night. My mind works efficiently at this time. Yet, I got a warning from our rector if my morning meditation would suffer, it would be the end of late night study extensions. But I don’t really see that my meditation would be a problem. I don’t sleep during this time as I value this moment with the Lord. With this development, I think that somebody would be paying a closer eye at me, hehehe… My daily sleep in the average for past few days is six hours. I hope this is still healthy. :-)

Posted by brodiz at 6:15 PM | Permalink | Comments

I got inspired by this poem. I first encountered this in one of our class in Charles Hartshorne’s Process Thought emphasizing the “lived experience” itself, the life journey, the life process as most significant in the person. This is but a call and a challenge to live and love NOW while one still can.

THE DASH

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years (1940–1996)

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

Posted by brodiz at 3:27 AM | Permalink | Comments