Finding a Grave After 84 Years

Under the Acacia
Finding a Grave After 84 years

This was to have appeared in Negros Times last Monday, 24 November. However, the paper isn’t being published right now. The column contains some material from my post ‘In Flanders Fields’ but I focused on the finding of my great-uncle’s grave. We are still in the month when Catholics remember the dead in a special way.

One thing that Filipinos and Irish share is respect for the dead. I think that this comes mainly from the Catholic faith that prevails in both countries, though people of every culture and faith and none have their various ways of burying the dead and remembering them.

While working in Mindanao I noticed that many visited the cemetery on Mondays and each parish had a Misa Comun that day when the priest would offer Mass for the souls of all the dead whose names had been given in during the week ahead. People would bring an offering with their list. As far as I know, this is a custom among Cebuano-speakers, though it may be done by others too.

I would say that Filipinos are better than the Irish for visiting cemeteries. However, during the summer in Ireland many parishes or districts have a ‘Cemetery Sunday’ when Mass is offered for all who are buried in the particular place. This practice, as far as I know, is a relatively new one.

The Irish are very good at remembering the dead in speech, with expressions such as “May he rest in peace”, ‘Lord be good to her”, “The light of heaven on her”, when someone deceased is mentioned. It’s mostly older people who follow this custom now but you often hear these prayers, because that’s what they are, on radio and TV. They express a strong sense of the Communion of Saints, being one with the saints in heaven and the souls in purgatory, with the hope of joining them one day.

When I was a child my mother often mentioned her Uncle Larry Dowd who had died in the Great War, “the war to end all wars”, 1914-1918, later to be called World War I. However, she had no details apart from her father hearing the “banshee”, “bean sí”, or “fairy woman” with long hair whose wailing foretells a death in the family, according to folklore. Larry was my grandmother’s brother. However, even though she died only the year before my ordination Í never thought of asking her about him, something I deeply regret.

Some years after my mother’s death I asked her sisters about their Uncle Larry. One thought he

had died in Gallipoli, Turkey, but none of them had any details. By chance I came across a book with the names of all soldiers in Irish regiments of the British army who had died in the Great War and there found an entry for “Corporal L. Dowd” who died in Belgium, on August 6, 1917. The only thing that raised a doubt in my mind was that he was listed as having been born in Scotland. However, he had enlisted in the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. My research since has shown that only one person by the name of “L. Dowd” died in action in the Great War.

(Transfiguration, Raphael, painted 1516-1520)

In 2001, when I was based in Britain, I was asked by Joy, a friend from Mindanao to officiate at her Church wedding on September 8 to her husband, Stefaan, a Belgian. They lived near Ieper, or “Ypres” as it is known in French, a city that was utterly destroyed in the Great War but that was rebuilt with the help of the blueprints of the original buildings. There are many war cemeteries in the area, maintained beautifully by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. Stefaan took me to the In Flanders Fields Museum where I told an official what I knew about Larry. Less than a minute later a computer printed the details of where he was buried and we went to the cemetery immediately.

It was a very moving moment for me to be the first and only relative, 84 years after his death, to visit the grave of Laurence Dowd who had died in a war that for the soldiers on both sides was utter hell. I find some consolation in the fact that he died on the Feast of the Transfiguration.

So many of the headstones in the war cemeteries don’t have a name but simply ‘A Soldier of such-and-such a Regiment’. The vast majority were still in their late teens or early twenties.

The British built a monument in Ieper called the Menin Gate. On it are listed the names of more than 50,000 soldiers of the British Commonwealth whose remains were never found. They were from all over the British Empire – Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Newfoundland, India, which then included what are now Pakistan and Bangladesh, the African colonies and the Caribbean, apart from the great numbers from the United Kingdom itself, which then included the whole of Ireland.

Every might at 8.00 volunteer buglers from Ieper’s firefighters the Last Post at the Mennen Gate and traffic comes to a halt. The evening I was there a very old man, possibly a veteran of the Great War, placed a wreath. Beside me was a young woman with a baby not more than a week old. This brought tears to my eyes. Here was a woman passing on to her new-born the memory of the tragedy of the Great War, which everyone in that part of Belgium carries, in the presence of someone who probably had fought in it.

Joy and Stefaan promised they would visit the grave of my great-uncle Larry on Armistice Day, November 11, a public holiday in Belgium, which they did. The Great War ended at 11 A.M. on November 11 ninety years ago. May my Uncle Larry and all the other soldiers buried near the battlefields of Europe rest in peace.

The Confession of the Centurion (La Confession du Centurion)

James Tissot (1836-1902)

Dishonoring the Dead

The Negros Times has suspended publication for the time being. here is the column I wrote for 17-18 November. I had originally written in for 3-4 November, in the context of the observance of All Saints and All Souls here in the Philippines. A 'memorial park' is a privately owned cemetery run as a business.

Under the Acacia

By Father Seán Coyle

Dishonoring the Dead

I don’t know whether it’s ignorance of Philippine culture or justifiable outrage that made me upset the last week of October when I saw a half-page advertisement in a Bacolod newspaper inviting people to a “Celebration of All Saints’ Day” by playing bingo and engaging in parlor games at a memorial park in the city. The owners reminded us that there would be “Peryahan” and Merry-Go-Round Rides the whole afternoon.

And, yes, the blessing of graves was fitted in before bingo and the Holy Mass between the parlor games and the evening “Cultural Show”, no doubt to satisfy the fanatics who think that a cemetery is a sacred place where we Catholics pray for the dead.

The first time I blessed graves on November 1 or 2 in the Philippines was in a mountainous area of the municipality of Tubod, Lanao del Norte in 1972. We were accompanied by members of the Philippine Constabulary, as the civil war that erupted the previous year in the Lanao and Cotabato provinces, instigated by politicians with Christian and Islamic backgrounds, had abated only some months before. Thank God, there was no trouble.

In subsequent years I blessed graves in parishes in Misamis Occidental, in Karomatan, now Sultan Naga Dimaporo, Lanao del Norte, where about half the people are Christians and half Muslims, and in Lianga, Surigao del Sur. In most places the busiest day was November 1 but in Lianga everything took place on November 2, the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed, as the Church officially designates it. I have never understood why the Feast of All Saints has, in effect, become All Souls’ Day or Fiesta Minatay, the Feast of the Dead, as it’s often called by Ilonggos, in the Philippines.

But in all of these places the emphasis was on blessing the graves and praying for the dead. Many had a picnic also. In Lianga we had Mass in the church at 6 in the morning. After breakfast everyone went to the cemetery where the priest celebrated Mass again and the blessing of the graves took place in reasonably orderly fashion. By noon everything was finished and, following local custom, the priest lunched at the pantheon where the relatives of the mayor were buried.
But in none of these places did I ever encounter bingo or parlor games or merry-go-rounds or a so-called “cultural show”. There was a sense of joyful hope, because of our faith as Christians in the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ and because of our Catholic practice of praying for the dead. The Roman Martyrology or official list of saints of the Church, on which our almanake is based, says of November 2: On this day is observed the commemoration of the faithful departed, in which our common and pious Mother the Church, immediately after having endeavored to celebrate by worthy praise all her children who already rejoice in heaven, strives to aid by her powerful intercession with Christ, her Lord and Spouse, all those who still groan in Purgatory, so that they may join as soon as possible the inhabitants of the heavenly city.

In other words, the whole point of All Souls’ Day, even if it is observed on All Saints’ Day by most Filipinos, is to pray for the souls in purgatory, in accordance with Catholic teaching and practice. This doesn’t rule out a sense of joy or even having a picnic at the cemetery. After all, the heavenly banquet is a wonderful image from the Bible.

Pope Benedict writes beautifully about this in Spe Salvi, No.48:
Now a further question arises: if “Purgatory” is simply purification through fire in the encounter with the Lord, Judge and Saviour, how can a third person intervene, even if he or she is particularly close to the other? When we ask such a question, we should recall that no man is an island, entire of itself. Our lives are involved with one another, through innumerable interactions they are linked together. No one lives alone. No one sins alone. No one is saved alone. The lives of others continually spill over into mine: in what I think, say, do and achieve.

And conversely, my life spills over into that of others: for better and for worse. So my prayer for another is not something extraneous to that person, something external, not even after death. In the interconnectedness of Being, my gratitude to the other—my prayer for him—can play a small part in his purification. And for that there is no need to convert earthly time into God's time: in the communion of souls simple terrestrial time is superseded.

It is never too late to touch the heart of another, nor is it ever in vain. In this way we further clarify an important element of the Christian concept of hope. Our hope is always essentially also hope for others; only thus is it truly hope for me too. As Christians we should never limit ourselves to asking: how can I save myself? We should also ask: what can I do in order that others may be saved and that for them too the star of hope may rise? Then I will have done my utmost for my own personal salvation as well.

The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed, All Souls’ Day, Fiesta Minatay, call it what we will, is an ancient Catholic practice. No owners of a memorial park have the right to hijack it and distort it for commercial purposes. The business people of Cebu, in just over 20 years, have distorted and all but destroyed the Sinulog, a centuries-old celebration in honor of the Sto. Niño, the Child Jesus.

Are the people of Bacolod going to allow commercial interests to dishonor our dead and undermine our Catholic faith?

9,000,000 Black Americans Denied Vote in US Elections

Under the Acacia
By Father Seán Coyle

9,000,000 Black Americans Denied Vote in US Elections

The writer edits www.misyononline.com . You may contact him at undertheacacia@gmail.com . This column published in Negros Times 10-11 November 2008.

Because of a decision of the US Supreme Court in 1973, more than 9,000,000 Black Americans were denied a vote in the recent elections in the USA. These are the Black children aborted between 1973 and 1990 who would have been of voting age on November 4. 37 percent of abortions in the USA are of Black children even though Black Americans constitute only 13.4 percent of the overall population.

22 percent of abortions are of the children of white women and 34 percent of Hispanics and 8 percent to women of other races. These are the statistics of the pro-abortion Guttmacher Institute Alan F. Guttmacher was president of the Planned Parenthood Federation of America.

On July 17, 2007, Senator Obama addressed a Planned Parenthood Action Fund meeting. He articulated what he saw as the most important issue in the presidential election: “With one more vacancy on the (Supreme) Court, we could be looking at a majority hostile to a woman’s fundamental right to choose for the first time since Roe versus Wade and that is what is at stake in this election.” He spoke of his ongoing efforts to keep abortion legal: “I have worked on these issues for decades now. I put Roe at the center of my lesson plan on reproductive freedom when I taught Constitutional Law. Not simply as a case about privacy but as part of the broader struggle for women’s equality.”

In answer to the question, “What would you do at the federal level not only to ensure access to abortion but to make sure that the judicial nominees that you will inevitably be able to pick are true to the core tenets of Roe v. Wade?” Mr. Obama said, “Well, the first thing I’d do as president is, is sign the Freedom of Choice Act.”

The website of Priests for Life, says that the Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA) goes beyond Roe v. Wade. “It would establish abortion on demand with no restrictions whatsoever as the law of all 50 states.

“FOCA, which has been introduced in Congress since the 1990s but is now regaining attention, would wipe out all state laws on abortion, including parental notification or consent acts, public funding restrictions, 24-hour waiting period requirements, and women’s right to know measures, whereby a woman must be told of the risks caused by abortion and about the development of her unborn child. If the next Congress has a pro-abortion majority, a pro-abortion president could sign FOCA into law, eliminating 35 years of laws that have reduced the number of abortions in the United States.”

Priests for Life also points out that “a pro-abortion Congress and a pro-abortion President could repeal the federal ban on partial-birth abortion passed and signed into law by President Bush in 2003 and upheld by the Supreme Court in 2007. Earlier versions were either vetoed by President Clinton or struck down by the Supreme Court.” President George W. Bush’s two appointees, Associate Justice Samuel Alito, Jr., and Chief Justice John G. Roberts, were among the five who voted against four to uphold the ban on partial-birth abortion, which is really infanticide, as the baby is killed during the actual process of birth.

It is generally agreed that George W. Bush hasn’t been one of the greater presidents in the history of the USA but he has left the potential legacy of a Supreme Court that could overrule the utterly evil Roe v. Wade decision. Obama appointees – and he almost certainly will have at least one, since Associate Justice John Paul Stevens is 89 – could bring the USA further back into the Dark Ages for a generation or two.

The recently passed Abortion Law Reform Act of the State of Victoria, Australia, in the words of Melbourne Archbishop Denis Hart, “requires health professionals with a conscientious objection to abortion to refer patients seeking an abortion to other health professionals who do not have such objections. It also requires health professionals with a conscientious objection to abortion to perform an abortion in whatever is deemed an ‘emergency’”. In other words, legislators chose to deny doctors, nurses and pharmacists the choice not to be involved in killing without becoming criminals. It is a crime in Victoria to dock – “cut” - a dog’s tail and now a crime for a doctor or nurse not to be involved in an abortion in certain circumstances.

The UK recently passed a law allowing the use of hybrid human-animal embryos for research.

The USA, the UK and Australia are three countries with a Christian tradition but that have become aggressively secular and anti-life, though politicians in the USA invoke God on their side, whatever it is, while, in the words of an aide to former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, “We don’t do God”.

The election of Barack Obama as President of the USA, may help that country move beyond its shameful past of slavery, even though the new occupant of the White House, unlike his wife and children, isn’t descended from slaves. His father was from Kenya, in East Africa, while the slaves were taken from West Africa. I can understand the euphoria of so many older Black Americans who have experienced the legal discrimination that no longer exists in seeing a man with darker skin being elected president.

But I wonder how many of those who are moved by this event, which is undoubtedly significant, ask themselves why nine million descendants of slaves from West Africa were denied a vote on November 4 because of the pro-abortion policies that Mr. Obama has so vigorously dedicated his life to. When will they see that “pro-choice” means “no choice”?

A 'Good' Funeral

A “Good” Funeral

Negros Times 29-30 October 2008

The writer edits www.misyononline.com and has a blog at www.bangortobobbio.blogspot.com . You may contact him at undertheacacia@gmail.com

“As funerals go, it was a good one”. So spoke my former seminary rector, Fr. Joseph Flynn, after the funeral in Ireland in June 1997 of Fr. Frank Baragry who had spent almost 40 years in Mindanao. Father Baragry, whose older brother Father Dan had been working in the Philippines since 1955, was only 64. So there was a great sense of grief and loss.

So what made it a “good” funeral?

One unusual aspect was the large number of Filipinos present. They included Columban lay missionaries, religious sisters assigned to Ireland, some Filipinos married there and quite a few Columban priests home from the Philippines on vacation during the Irish summer. From among these a choir was formed that sang hymns in Cebuano.

This certainly helped to make the occasion a “good” funeral. But at the heart of the matter was a strong Catholic Christian faith. Because our Lord Jesus Christ rose from the dead, we can hope for the same. For centuries in every parish in the Philippines children have been proclaiming the Resurrection on Easter Sunday morning at the Salubong/Encuentro/Pagsugat as our Mother Mary, her statue carried by women, casts aside her mourning cloak when she meets her Risen son, his statue carried by men. Young girls dressed in white scatter petals of flowers as they sing “Resurrexit sicut dixit, Alleluia, alleluia”, “He has risen as he said, Alleluia, alleluia”.

And for centuries Filipinos have been living that same faith as they grieve for those who have died. Filipino wakes, like Irish ones, are not only mournful occasions but joyful ones too as people share stories about the deceased, as they laugh and cry at the same time. Only once have I experienced the full novena for the dead in the Philippines. A young man of 25 whose family was very close to me died after a motorcycle accident one Saturday morning. I had greeted him after Mass just a few hours before and anointed him after returning from a barrio fiesta when he was on the point of death.

I could see that the novena is a wonderful mixture of faith and basic humanity. In this particular case the whole town was in mourning. Jimmy was the second child and the eldest son in a family of six who had lost their father in an accident when the eldest was only 12 and the youngest less than a year. Jimmy was like a father to the rest. During the novena the people helped the family come to terms with their grief by their presence and by their prayers. The funeral Mass was the most difficult I have ever celebrated but I found my faith deepened when Jimmy’s mother, Ponying, offered him to God as he was being buried.

In Ireland we don’t have a novena for the dead and funerals take place within two or three days. People visit the house, where the wake usually takes place, though funeral parlors are not unknown in modern Ireland. Neighbors bring in sandwiches and cakes and make endless pots of tea and coffee for the visitors. The remains are brought to the church the evening before burial for what is called “the removal”. This is a Service of the Word led by the priest and takes place at 5:30 or 6 PM so that people can attend on their way home from work. Many who cannot attend the funeral the following day come to that service. The funeral Mass usually takes place the following morning and after the burial there is usually a meal.

One Irish practice that Filipinos find very strange is that the remains are left alone in the locked church overnight after the “removal”.

That wasn’t the case the night before Father Baragry was buried, as his remains were in the chapel of what was once a seminary with nearly 200 students but that now has none. And I know that some of the Filipinos kept vigil through the night before his burial.

But at the heart of it all, for Filipinos and for the Irish, especially in the past when the Catholic faith was much stronger in Ireland than it is now, is our hope in the Resurrection. Death is not the end, but the entrance to eternal life. And there is a healthy awareness of our unworthiness and of the need to pray for the dead, of the need for purification. A comparison I find useful is the help persons need before their wedding. They want to look their best. They wouldn’t go to the church in their working clothes or without taking a shower. Yet they feel a great sense of excitement while still preparing.

My understanding of purgatory is something like that: the soul knows the joy of having been saved but also knows that it is not yet ready to face God. It’s not a question of punishment but rather of the need to prepare more. There’s a sense of hiya, of “shame” in the Philippine sense. And the dead who are preparing to come into God’s presence are truly helped by our prayers just as a bride and groom preparing for their wedding are helped by those taking care of the many details that go with it.

Of course, what is most important of all when it comes to a wedding is preparing for marriage. A wedding is only for a day while marriage is for life. And our living faith in Jesus Christ in our daily lives is, with God’s grace and the prayers of our friends, the best preparation not only for death but for eternal life.

As we remember the dead this coming weekend, may we pray for the grace for our families and friends of a “good” funeral when our time comes.

undertheacacia@gmail.com

Columbans in Negros: Under the Acacia, 20-23 October 2008

My column in Negros Times for 20-23 October 2008.

Columbans in Negros

The writer edits Misyon.

This week sees the culminating activities of the year-long celebrations for the 75 years of the Diocese of Bacolod. Columbans have been very much part of the history of the diocese since July 1950 when we were given responsibility for the southern part of Negros Occidental that was to become the Diocese of Kabankalan in 1987. They also took care for some years of Ma-ao Central and of Canlaon, now in the Diocese of San Carlos. For a while too the Columbans provided chaplains to St. Paul College, now St. Paul University, Dumaguete City, and to Sta. Theresita’s Academy, Silay City.

I was totally unaware of the Columban connection with Canlaon City until I got a phone call last year from Sr. Susan Turingan, FAS, of St. Joseph’s College there asking if a Columban could be present for the Golden Jubilee of the school. It had been started by the late Fathers Colum O’Halpin and Patrick Hynes, both of whom spent all their active lives as priests in Negros. Indeed, Father O’Halpin was serving in Biscom, Binalbagan, when he died in 2003 and is buried in Kabankalan.

My lack of awareness as a Columban of our Canlaon connection reflects a characteristic of the members of the Missionary Society of St. Columban. We are secular priests – not religious – with our roots in the diocesan clergy of Ireland, Australia, New Zealand and the USA. The men who came to Negros in 1950 had inherited a tradition of “rugged individualism”, getting on with the job and responding to the needs of the people. One of the greatest needs they saw was to enable poor children to have the chance to go to high school.

My first assignment in the Philippines was in Tubod, Lanao del Norte, from 1972 to 1973. My parish priest, the late Fr. James Flynn, one of whose classmates, Fr. Patrick Hurley, is still serving in Biscom, once told me of an encounter he had on the launch crossing Panguil Bay from Tubod to Ozamiz City. He happened to be sitting beside a young man who was a journalist. When this man learned that Father Flynn was a Columban he told him to read The Manila Times during the next few days.

A few days later Father Flynn found an article there about the largest chain of Catholic schools in the Philippines – those run by Columbans – and the writer was the late Max Soliven.Yet the Columbans have never run “Columban” schools. They established parochial schools in Zambales, Pangasinan, Rizal, Negros and northwest Mindanao. Very few were called “St. Columban’s”. The priests used to spend much of their annual vacation in Manila going from one office to another filling up forms and going from one supplier to another to get what was needed for the coming school year. In at least one instance a school was burned down in March and a new school was up and running by June. This was done through the hard work of local people and generous benefactors from overseas, often people struggling financially themselves.

I sometimes get annoyed and frustrated when Catholic schools are presented as “exclusive”. Some are. I’ve no difficulty whatever with that. But the typical Catholic school is a parochial one, run by the parish priest or by a religious congregation of Sisters or Brothers. Some religious schools that charge higher fees use some of their income to support schools for poorer children. Many schools struggle to pay their teachers a decent salary while not keeping out students from very poor families.

In the last few decades public high schools have spread to more remote areas where there were no such schools before. But in many instances it was Catholic missionaries who first made it possible for the poor to get a second-level education. There are many such groups in the Diocese of Bacolod and thank God for all of them.During the Martial Law years Columbans were very much involved in the struggle for justice, in response to the grave needs of the people and to the call of Vatican II and of Pope Paul VI in particular. Pope John Paul II reinforced that call in Bacolod in 1981. On that visit he met the widows of Alex Garsales and Herman Muleta, from Barangay Tanawan, Kabankalan, two men whose bodies were found in shallow graves in 1980 months after they were murdered. Alex had played the part of Jesus in a Good Friday Passion play that year a few days before he and Herman were abducted from their homes. In 1983 the “Negros Nine” saga started with the arrest of Columban Fathers Brian Gore and Niall O’Brien, diocesan priest Fr. Vicente Dangan and six lay leaders, falsely charged with the murder of Mayor Pablo Sola of Kabankalan. This was to draw international attention to Negros, with media people coming especially form Ireland and Australia, because of the two Columban priests. Eventually the charges were shown to be the travesties they were.

Father Dangan has since died. So has Fr. Niall O’Brien. In 1988 he became the founding editor of Misyon, the bi-monthly magazine of the Columbans in the Philippines. Earlier this year it ceased to be a printed magazine and is now primarily online.

Another need seen by a Columban in Negros was that of the Deaf. The late Fr. Joseph Coyle established Welcome Home in Puentebella, Bacolod City, a residence for out of town Deaf students who attend public schools in the city. During the nearly 17 years since his death the work he began has grown under the direction of Mrs. Salving V. Tinsay who died recently. Your columnist regularly celebrates Sunday Mass in Sign Language in Welcome Home.

As a Columban, I am grateful to God for the faithful service of so many Columbans here during the last 58 years and for many blessings we Columbans have received from God through the people of Negros.

Email: mailto:mundertheacacia@gmail.com

From Victorias to Fukuyama: Under the Acacia, 24-26 October 2008

My column in Negros Times for 24-26 October 2008.

From Victorias to Fukuyama

The writer edits http://www.misyononline.com/ and has a blog at http://www.bangortobobbio.blogspot.com/ . Email: undertheacacia@gmail.com.

Today, October 24, sees the Thanksgiving Mass and other activities to draw to a close the Diamond Jubilee Year of the Diocese of Bacolod. Last Friday I allowed a young priest from the diocese, Fr. Ronald Magbanua, CICM, to tell about his experience as a missionary in the depth of a Mongolian winter. This week his confrere, Fr. Garry Gestoveo, CICM, from Victorias City, also in our diocese, writes about his involvement with homeless people in the affluent city of Fukuyama, Japan.

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The evening I arrived at the parish of Fukuyama Church, Diocese of Hiroshima, I met Sister Marie Lisa of the Sisters of Mary Auxiliary. She was with some others preparing o-nigiri (rice balls) and miso-shiru (miso soup). I assumed that all were parishioners, they were so friendly, welcoming and warm. Later I learned from Sr. Marie Lisa that they were volunteers from different faiths and backgrounds. They were preparing dinner for the homeless of the area.

The volunteers were members of the Fukuyama Church Welfare Group, and had taken the name Tomoshibi-kai, “Lamp Society”. The group is made up of people from the YMCA school of social service, certified social workers, volunteers from the City’s Public Assistance Committee, a few Catholics from the parish and a volunteer from the Himawari-kai, “Sunflower Society”, a Protestant group. Tomoshibi-kai was formed thirteen years ago to respond to the needs of the homeless in the area.

Sister Marie Lisa told me that from 1990 to 2000 she dealt with 20 to 25 homeless people. But now there are about 60, including eleven women. Until 2002, the majority of the homeless had been middle-aged men. But in 2003, volunteers met persons ranging in age from 19 to 70. This is a national phenomenon, due to a rise in unemployment and bankruptcy, and the break-up of families.

The homeless can be found in parks, at the river side, bus stops, underground passages, bicycle ports and under railroad bridges. In the morning, some go to the train station that opens at 4am and stay until it closes at 10pm; then they look for a place to sleep again. Complaints from local people led the city’s environmental department and the Japan Railway Company (JR), to force the homeless away. But the homeless have no alternative, so often they just spread their blankets on the ground, even when it rains. When chased out of one park, they find another. When asked to leave that park, they go back to the first. Recently, the city government built a fence around the main park, shutting out both the homeless and children who wanted to play there. This caused some commotion in the neighborhood. There needs to be a balance struck: the homeless have to reconsider how they use the public facilities, and the neighborhood needs to understand the needs of the homeless.

Homeless people encounter difficulties in securing jobs through the public employment security offices, where most applicants have a proper address and health insurance. Most available jobs, such as in the shipyard, require physical strength that a 55-year-old person with marginal health doesn’t have. The homeless occasionally encounter dishonest employers who hire under practices which take advantage of their situation: charging them for food, lodging and bathing, leaving them with no earnings at the end of the contract. Some are even hired for construction work and when the job is complete are chased off without receiving any pay. It is very difficult for the Department of Labor to do anything about this.

Some used to go around the city very early in the morning to find empty beer and juice cans, selling them to shops that collect aluminum. They would get ¥700, about
PHP330, for 10 kilograms of cans. It takes days to collect that many cans and one rice ball costs about PHP45. But the city government has prohibited the collection of cans and newspapers by individuals.

With most homeless without a regular income or none at all, picking up food thrown out by restaurants or convenience stores is commonplace, making these people vulnerable to illnesses.

The government, through its Livelihood Protection Office, grants financial aid to the needy, especially to the sick. Yet, in order to be eligible, they must have a proper address, and a letter from the doctor to prove that they are in need of money for medical purposes. A guarantor is often required to secure an apartment, but most families of the homeless refuse to serve as one. The volunteers of Tomoshibi-kai try to find shelter for the sick, but inexpensive apartments are hard to come by.

One spot of hope has emerged: The Livelihood Protection Office held meetings with the volunteers of Tomoshibi-kai to exchange opinions regarding the situation of the homeless. Subsequently, some of the officers participated in the nightly distribution of rice and soup to find out more first-hand about the living conditions of the homeless. A doctor, who conducts free medical check-ups for the homeless in Tokyo, lent his experience in one seminar aimed at building positive attitudes towards the homeless.

After talking with my parish priest, I decided to join the volunteers in cooking and distributing soup and rice on Sunday evenings. This opens many possibilities for contact not only with the homeless, but also with people of this church and of the area where I live. I enjoy the company of the volunteers who are very dedicated to their mission. Indeed, as the name of the group suggests, they are bringing light to people who are neglected in society. At the same time, they bring light to people who have closed their hearts to the homeless. Although only a few parishioners join the cooking and distribution, many make an effort to give contributions of rice to Tomoshibi-kai. We have put up a box to collect funds for the food for the Sunday distribution. Though our response seems small compared to the enormous needs, I am very hopeful that more people will come to the light, and begin to open their hearts to the homeless.

undertheacacia@gmail.com

God's Frozen - and Patient - People: Under the Acacia, 17-10 October 2008

God’s Frozen - and Patient - People

The author is a Columban priest from Ireland who has been in the Philippines most of the time since 1971. Since October 2002 he has been based in Bacolod City as editor of Misyon, the magazine of the Columbans, and also has a personal blog (which you are reading!) This column is in the 17-19 October issue of Negros Times. Though I didn't avert to it when preparing the column, tomorrow is Mission Sunday, so it is very appropriate to post it now.

The culminating activities of the year-long celebration of the 75th anniversary of the Diocese of Bacolod are taking place this week. One striking difference between 1933, when Sorsogon-born Casimiro Lladoc became first bishop, is that while Bacolod still welcomes missionaries, it now sends them out. One such person is Father Ronald Magbanua CICM, ordained by Bishop Wenceslao S. Padilla CICM of Ulaanbaatar on January 9, 2005, in San Diego Pro-cathedral, Silay City, in the Diocese of Bacolod. Bishop Padilla, from Tubao, La Union, has created history in two ways. He is the first Filipino to be made bishop of a jurisdiction overseas and he is the first bishop ever in Mongolia.Growing up in Silay City, Father Ronald could never have imagined enduring the intense cold of a Mongolian winter. His story here first appeared in Misyon in July-August this year. A ger is a Mongolian tent. ‘Yurt’ is the Russian term.

Fr Ronald Magbanua is on the left. The photo includes some of his CICM (Missionhurst, Scheut Missionaries) from the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

It was morning again; the caretaker of the church staggered to the main door of the ger-church to open it. Pulling out his key, he realized that the padlock was frozen. So he went back to his house nearby to take a piece of paper to heat the frozen padlock. “I wish the sun would shine,” he said to himself. “If not I will have a hard time opening this main door”. After some time he was able to open the frozen padlock. Now he had the challenge of lighting the frozen firewood and frozen coal. “I should light this firewood fast because it’s already 8:30am and the workers will be here soon”, he said. The yurt needs at least an hour to warm up and he only had only 30 minutes to go. “Ah, I better put more firewood because it heats faster compared to the coal”. So he filled the fireplace with firewood. At 9:00 o’clock the first worker arrived, “Ovoo (meaning ‘old man’), how come the yurt is still cold?” the worker asked. “Oh, I am very sorry, my daughter, the firewood is frozen and it is difficult to light”, answered the old man. So she helped him. Then the other workers arrived.

“Is there hot water?” one worker asked. “Let’s check, the water here is frozen too. Anyway, let’s heat it”.

At 10:00 o’clock, the yurt is still cold. One sewing trainee started her sewing machine and found it wouldn’t work - it too was frozen. It created only some strange sounds. “Stop the sewing machine”, shouted the sewing teacher, “You will only destroy it.” The secretary wanted to print something but her printer was frozen too. The Sister who prepares the Mass paraphernalia was worried because the holy water and clean water in the chapel was also frozen. The cleaner who wanted to sweep the floor couldn’t start her job of cleaning as well.

“Is their anything that is not frozen in this yurt?” one worker exclaimed.

“Nothing!” jokingly answered the youngest sewing trainee.

“When are we going to have our church building?” they asked each other. The parish priest answered, “Don’t worry, one day we will have our own church building, just a little sacrifice is needed”.

All of a sudden, there was an explosion. “What happened?” they asked. Then they heard the parish Sister shouting for help. Some workers rushed to help her, and a big fire greeted them. “The kerosene heater exploded!” one worker shouted. All then came to help. Good thing there were enough fire extinguishers to put out the fire.

“Father, will there be sewing classes today?” asked one sewing student. “I guess we’d better cancel the classes for today since the classroom needs to be cleaned”, answered the parish priest.

“We live in a yurt, we come here, it is still a yurt, is there no change in our daily life?” asked one youth. The parish priest once again answered, “Don’t worry, one day we will have our own church building”.

Afternoon came. It was still cold inside the yurt. Mass was about to begin but the amplifier, microphones and keyboard were all still frozen. The parish Sister was really worried now. She went to the parish priest and asked, “Father, is it okay not to use the microphone? Just please speak louder”.

“Yes, it’s okay, Sister”, the parish priest replied. During the Mass the congregation was complaining about the cold. They couldn’t concentrate on the Mass. Some were stamping their feet and therefore looked as if they were dancing. The yurt floor was frozen. Some wanted to be near the fireplace. The parish priest struggled to deliver a good homily.

The cold made many of the workers and even the parish priest sick. Some of the workers later approached the parish priest to ask permission to go home early.

At the end of the day, the parish priest thought to himself, “How come other people don’t understand our need for a church building of our own? Some have made their buildings very beautiful but we have nothing, even our appliances are exploding. All we have is a frozen yurt and the patient people of God”.

Without noticing, he answered himself with, “Don’t worry, Ronald, one day we will have our own church building”.

“Lala" and Queen Elizabeth: Under the Acacia, 13-14 October 2008

This column appears in Negros Times, 13-14 October 2008

Both “Lala” and Queen Elizabeth II have have two birthdays, the real one and the official one. “Lala’s” official birthday is September 27 and she turned 29 last Saturday. Queen Elizabeth’s official birthday is celebrated in 53 Commonwealth countries, but not on the same date. Only the Falkland Island observes her official birthday on her real one, April 21. In the United Kingdom the Queen’s official birthday can be on the first, second or third Saturday in June. She turned 82 on her last birthday.

While there’s no confusion about the date of birth of Queen Elizabeth, there is about that of “Lala”. The young Princess Elizabeth was born in a palace in London. “Lala” was found shortly after birth in a trashcan in Cebu. Those who found her took her to the Asilo De La Milagrosa of the Daughters of Charity there. The Sisters noticed that the little girl had Down Syndrome and took her in and raised her. Since they didn’t know who her parents were they had to choose for her.

The Sisters chose “Vicente” as her family name, in honor of St. Vincent de Paul, and “Louilla” as her Christian name, in honor of St. Louise de Marillac. The two saints founded the Daughters of Charity in France in 1633. “Lala”, as all her friends know her, probably has something else in common with St. Louise. She was almost certainly born out of wedlock, as the saint was, and, like St. Louise, never knew her mother. I suspect that “Lala’s” mother, probably very young and unmarried, panicked – this possibly added to when she saw that her daughter wasn’t “normal” - and left her baby where someone could find her and take care of her.

I first met “Lala” in Cebu in 1992 at a Faith and Light celebration. We had just begun a community there, after a retreat given by the co-founder of the movement, Jean Vanier, a Canadian layman, in Holy Family Retreat House, Cebu City, in October 1991. During the retreat he gave a public talk in the auditorium of St. Theresa’s College, as I recall, and a group of interested people got together after that. The gathering at which “Lala” was present included members of Faith and Light from Manila who had come to tell us more about the movement.

I could see immediately that “Lala” had a special gift – she’s a natural “ice-breaker”. Though she seldom says anything, she lights up any group into which she comes, unless she’s in a bad mood, which happens from time to time.

“Lala” became a member of our Faith and Light community in Cebu but I lost contact with her when I went to Lianga, Surigao del Sur, in 1993 as parish priest and to Manila the following year to become vocation director of the Columbans. But one day when I visited the L’Arche community in Cainta, Rizal, known as “Ang Arko”, I was surprised to see “Lala” there. L’Arche, the French for “The Ark” as in Noah’s Ark, was founded by Jean Vanier, in 1964 when he invited two men with learning disabilities, Raphael Simi and Philippe Seux, who had been living in an institution, to join him in a small cottage he had bought and was renovating in the town of Trosly-Breuil, France. Jean had no intention of founding anything, but he realized very quickly that he had made a commitment to these two men. One of them, I forget which, chose to live independently some years later, something he could never have done had he stayed not met Jean. Out of these small beginnings has grown an international movement of about 130 residential communities where those with learning disabilities are enabled to live in a family-type situation and to develop their abilities to the greatest extent possible.

Jordan and Raymon, now young men, were welcomed by Ang Arko when they were very young. Both have physical as well as learning disabilities. The original house was in Manila but the community moved later to Cainta.

In Holy Week 2001, as I mentioned in my last column, I attended the international pilgrimage of Faith and Light to Lourdes as chaplain to the group from the Philippines. “Lala” was one of the twelve or so Filipinos.

The Easter Vigil was celebrated in the underground basilica. Some of the Old Testament Vigil readings were dramatized. During the account of creation when the words “God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him” were read, a spotlight shone on a young man in a wheelchair. But what moved me most was when “Lala” was part of a group dramatizing the reading of the Exodus.

I simply marveled at the fact that a young woman who should never have been born, according to the “wisdom” of so many, left after birth among garbage, was on the other side of the world helping to proclaim the Word of God to thousands of people, many like herslelf, and doing so with the joy that permeates her soul.

Queen Elizabeth has been blessed by God with a long and healthy life, in which she continues to serve her people with dignity. Though she is among the richest people in the world, “Lala”, also with her two birthdays, enjoys even greater riches, because the words of Mary’s prayer, the Magnificat, have been revealed in her life: “God has lifted up the lowly”.

There is no Faith and Light community yet in Bacolod. Anyone interested may contact me at undertheacacia@gmail.com



Rafael Simi (left) and Jean Vanier (right). You can listen to an interview with Jean here. He turned 80 on 10 September.

Filipino Prelate of Marshall Islands: Under the Acacia, 10-12 October 2008

I'm planning to use material from Misyon for my Friday Under the Acacia column in Negros Times. For those of you outside of the Philippines, a 'Negrense' is a person from the island of Negros. This article appeared, in a slightly different form, in the July-August issue of Misyon. I hope to show over time how the missionary aspect of the Church in the Philippines is continually growing, thanks be to God.

Negrense Prefect Apostolic of Marshall Islands

The writer edits www.misyononline.com and has a blog at www.bangortobobbio.blogspot.com

Last January Fr. Raymundo T. Sabio, MSC, (centre in the photo) who grew up in Binalbagan, Negros Occidental, was installed as Prefect Apostolic of the Marshall Islands. A prefecture apostolic is like a diocese except that it’s not fully self-supporting. The prefect is sometimes a bishop, sometimes not, but has the same responsibility and authority in his prefecture that a bishop has in his diocese.

The Prefecture of the Marshall Islands was set up on 23 April 1993. In 2004 there were 4,601 Catholics officially listed, 9.04 percent of the population of 50,874. The vast majority of the others are Protestants.

The Republic of the Marshall Islands, due east of the Philippines, consists of 1,152 islands grouped in 34 atolls and 870 reefs. The total land area is only 180 square kilometers but is spread over a million share kilometers in the pacific. There are 33 municipalities. 60 percent of the people live in the two islands of Majuro and Kwajalein. Majuro, the capital, has a population of 25,000. The USA handles security, defense and foreign affairs and the currency is the US dollar.

I was surprised at the time that the local media didn’t seem to be aware that a priest who grew up in a parish in the Diocese of Bacolod that is now in the Diocese of Kabankalan, had been given responsibility by the Holy Father for the Church in another Pacific nation, and in the year when Bacolod is celebrating its 75th anniversary as a diocese.

Here is a letter Father Sabio sent me and a report on his installation, both of which were published in the July-August 2008 issue of MISYON, http://www.misyononline.com/

February 11, 2008, Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes



Dear Fr Sean Coyle,

Aineman an Anji Jemed im yokwe an Mary Jined! (Marshallese for, ‘Peace of God our Father and love of Mary our Mother!’)

I am very pleased to note that Sister Fidelis made it for the day of my installation as Apostolic Prefect, representing the Sabio Family on January 6. (Presentation Sister Fidelis is based at Scala Retreat House, Bacolod City).The Lord has led me to this place after a long journey that started in Binalbagan, Negros Occidental. Then to Cebu; and on to Manila. After 14 years of ministry in the in the Philippines as formator of college-level seminarians, vocation director, novice master and theology professor, I was transplanted to South Korea where I spent 19 fruitful years of priestly work, assisting seafarers, migrant/factory workers, the expatriate communities, harbor workers as well as airport employees and air-travelers. Indeed, it was a ministry to the sea, land and air people. And finally I departed for the third part of my life, arriving in the Marshall Islands (unheard of by many!) on October 14, 2005. It is not an easy mission area because the apostolic prefecture is spread over various atolls / tiny islands in the Pacific Ocean, located between Guam and Hawaii. My rough estimate is: the area covered by the prefecture apostolic would be equivalent to the whole of the Visayas. From Majuro, the seat of the Prefecture, to Ebeye, the second parish center, is a 40-minute flight by jet. But I trust the Lord who gives me the strength and courage I need to be His, serving His People. And I place my life in the arms of our Lady of the Sacred Heart who will intercede for me and lead me closer to the very Heart of the Incarnate Word.

May the Good Lord continue to guide and assist you and your staff in your publication/media ministry so that the ‘mission ad gentes’ will become more and more appealing and challenging to the young people.

Yours very sincerely and gratefully in the Heart of our Lord,

(Fr.) Ray Sabio, MSC

Apostolic Prefect of the Marshall Islands

January 6 is the date of the Solemnity of Epiphany, one of the great feasts in the Roman Catholic Church. This year on that day the new Apostolic Prefect of the Marshall Islands, Fr. Raymundo T. Sabio, MSC, was installed by Archbishop Charles Daniel Balvo, Apostolic Nuncio. The nuncio, from Brooklyn, New York City, is based in New Zealand and is the Vatican’s envoy to that country and to ten other island nations in the South Pacific. The ceremony took place in the Cathedral of the Assumption in Uliga, Majuro. At the same time, the care of the Prefecture was transferred from the Jesuits to the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart (MSC).

The presence of Archbishop Anthony Apuron OFMCap of Agaña, Guam, was highly appreciated. He was present as President of the Pacific Episcopal Conference (CEPAC) and as the Metropolitan Archbishop under whose jurisdiction the Prefecture of the Marshall Islands belongs. Also gracing the occasion were five Jesuits: Fr. Ken Hesel SJ, Jesuit Superior of the Region of Micronesia, Fr. James C. Gould SJ, the former Apostolic Prefect, Fr. Richard McAuliff SJ, Fr. Tom McGrath SJ and Fr Arthur Leger SJ.

The MSCs were represented by Fr. Simon Mani, Superior of the MSC Pacific Union, Fr. Tito Maratas, Provincial Superior of MSC Philippines, Fr. Yohanes Sujono and Fr. Ariel Galido. It was indeed a sight to behold with so many priests and two archbishops in the sanctuary of the parish church. Rev. Alfred Capelle assisted in the Holy Mass in his capacity as deacon.

The ceremony began at 9:30 a.m. and ended at almost 11. Assumption Cathedral was filled to capacity by both the local Marshallese Catholics and the Catholic members of the various foreign communities. Although the great majority were the Catholics of Assumption Cathedral Parish of Majuro and of St. Francis Xavier Chapel of Laura, a good number of Catholics from Queen of Peace Parish, Kwajalein, came for the occasion. The sacred songs were sung beautifully in Marshallese, English and Kiribati languages.

May God bless this dedicated Negrense missionary priest.

Email me at mailto:undertheacacia@gmail.com.

Spanking: Under the Acacia, 6 October 2008

Fellow Negros Times columnist Richard M. Gelangre last Monday raised the dilemma he faces as a parent and as a teacher: To spank or not to spank? I’m not a parent but am a teacher and at various times over the last 40 years have taught and given retreats to students at first, second and third level.

As an adult I have never struck a child. I cannot recall my parents spanking me but I know that they did. I know that on those rare occasions they used the palm of their hand on my “behind”. They never used any kind of instrument and the punishment was more “symbolic” than physical. One time my brother, three years younger than me and then a toddler, ran out on a busy road but, thanks be to God, wasn’t hit by a car or truck. However, he was hit by my mother – her reaction of shock and relief – with her hand in a way that didn’t hurt him but that conveyed to him that he must never do such a dangerous thing again – and he didn’t.

My quick-tempered mother scolded us but never screamed or shouted at us. My father’s favorite threat – he never raised his voice at anyone - was “I’ll give you a good clip in the ear if you do that again”. As we got older we used to joke him about it because, at one level, it was an empty threat but, at another, a clear reminder to behave properly.

I remember when I was 13 I said some very hurtful words to my mother in front of a visitor. I didn’t realize at the time how hurtful they were until my father took me aside later and let me know clearly. He didn’t tell me what to do but I knew what he expected.

Around that time my parents gave me the key of our house. In Ireland the house-key was the symbol of adulthood. You legally became an adult at 21 – now it’s 18 – and 21st birthday cards all had a picture of a key on them. I didn’t know anyone else who was given one at 13. This gave me a great sense of being trusted and my response was to prove to be worthy of that trust. There was only one occasion when I failed to do that, through thoughtlessness rather than by design. I had permission to go to a dance on Saturday nights on the other side of the city. I went by bicycle with a classmate. Our parents told us to leave at 11. One night we were enjoying ourselves so much that we waited till the dance ended at 11:30. Then we went to the nearby house of another classmate for a late night snack.

I arrived home at around 1 A.M. feeling great because I had had such an enjoyable evening. I was surprised to find my parents waiting at the door and got a right good scolding from them. The word “killjoys” was running through my mind but I didn’t say anything. It was probably the following morning I realized that they had been worried sick, thinking I might have been in an accident and lying in a hospital ward – or morgue. We had no phone and that was decades before cell phones.

But my parents said no more about the matter nor did they confiscate my house-key.

My father and mother had a united front when it came to discipline. I don’t recall being able to play one off against the other.

In my time corporal punishment was legal in schools. In the local kindergarten run by the Irish Sisters of Charity the teachers occasionally used a ruler on the palm of a student’s hand, as far as I can recall. My use of that expression indicates that my childhood wasn’t blighted by the physical brutality of adults, at home or in school. In the boys’ primary and secondary schools I attended, run by the Congregation of Christian Brothers, some of whose Australian members now work in Kabankalan and Maasin, teachers – all men – were allowed to use a leather strap with which they could beat a student on the palm of his hand. “Six of the best” was for a serious misdemeanor, but I rarely saw it happening. The usual was two “biffs”, which would leave your hand tingling for a while, but which we took in our stride. Parents implicitly backed the teacher’s authority and unless there was excessive physical force used, something I never saw but know occasionally happened, none of us would report at home that we had been punished. I don’t remember any of my high school teachers using the “leather”.

Richard M. Gelangre’s story of the child left in the locker by the teacher seems to have the elements of an urban myth. But I have been horrified at stories of parents using a two-by-two, which he mentions. I’ve heard of parents leaving children hanging in sacks for a while. No adult has the right to treat a child with brutality and parents, while they have the primary responsibility for their children, don’t own them.

The society I grew up in 50 years ago in Ireland was far from permissive. It is somewhat more so now and it’s not unknown for teachers, who cannot any more use corporal punishment, to be sometimes treated with brutality by students.

I’m grateful to my parents for the “symbolic” spankings I know they gave me but can’t remember. I’m grateful for their example, for their united front, for their sense of fairness, for their inner discipline – genuine discipline - and for their trust. I’m grateful also to my teachers who used the “leather” sparingly.

My experience is quite different from that of a fourth-year girl in a Catholic high school retreat I gave in Mindanao more than 30 years ago. Small in stature and immature in her behavior, she came to me privately and cried for at least five minutes before telling me, “My parents give me everything I want. But they never ask me ‘How did you do in school today?’ And they never even scold me”. undertheacacia@gmail.com

Special Friends: Under the Acacia, 29-30 September 2008

I just got back from Manila this morning where I had a number of Columban meetings. It's also six years today since I started as editor of Misyon. I chose to begin on the Feast of St Therese. Although today is a holiday in the Philippines for the end of Ramadan, my staff chose to come in as they want to get on top of their work. (About five percent of Filipinos are Muslims, mostly in Mindanao where they form twenty percent of the population.)

Because of it being my sixth anniversary as editor we went out to lunch to Aboy's, one of the most popular native restaurants in Bacolod. 'Native' as in 'native restaurant' means a place where Filipino dishes are served Filipino-style. You order dishes that are shared by the group, similar to Chinese restaurants. You wouldn't go to one on your own.

I don't know about the readers of Negros Times, the new paper I've begun writing for but the editor has asked me to write not only for the Monday edition but for Friday also. It comes Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Here' my column for last Monday.

I met Bololoy again on September 14 in Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary, Makati City. We hadn’t met for a year. I first got to know him in the mid-1990s when we belonged to a group that met every month in Mandaluyong in the house of the Little Sisters of Jesus, contemplatives who live among the poor and support themselves by manual work. A typical community has three or four sisters, with one staying at home and the others working in factories or as labanderas. Central to their way of life is adoration of the Blessed Sacrament in their simple chapels that welcome their neighbors.

The Sisters’ welcome Bololoy for the joy he brings. He doesn’t work. He can’t read or write. He says very little. But a smile is seldom far from his lips and if he hears a lively piece of music he starts dancing. He often joins the Sisters for lunch. One day he was late and found Cardinal Gaudencio Rosales of Manila, who knows him well, sitting in his place. But Bololoy was quick to act. “Monsignor”, he said, “your driver wants to talk to you outside.” When Cardinal Rosales came back he laughed when he saw that Bololoy had taken his place.

It’s hard to know Bololoy’s age. I would guess that he’s in his 50s. For the minority he belongs to that is quite an age. In the USA persons like him have a life expectancy of 49 years as they are at high risk for congenital heart defects.

Bololoy was born with Down Syndrome or Trisomy 21. The latter name, used more and more now, comes from the discovery by Dr Jerome Lejeune, a Frenchman, in 1958, that a person with Down Syndrome had an extra chromosome at the 21st pair. He spent 40 years as a doctor turned research scientist looking for a way to serve such persons.

Each year around 55,000 persons in the USA start out life but never make it to birth: they are aborted. Ninety percent of women in the USA who discover that the child they are carrying has the 21st chromosome decided to abort their child.

Dr. Lejeune, the cause of whose beatification has been introduced in the Archdiocese of Paris, wrote of persons with Trisomy 21: “With their slightly slanting eyes, their little nose in a round face and their unfinished features, trisomic children are more child-like than other children. All children have short hands and short fingers; theirs are shorter. Their entire anatomy is more rounded, without any asperities or stiffness. Their ligaments, their muscles, are so supple that it adds a tender languor to their way of being. And this sweetness extends to their character: they are communicative and affectionate, they have a special charm which is easier to cherish than to describe. This is not to say that Trisomy 21 is a desirable condition. It is an implacable disease which deprives the child of that most precious gift handed down to us through genetic heredity: the full power of rational thought. This combination of a tragic chromosomic error and a naturally endearing nature, immediately shows what medicine is all about: hatred of disease and love of the diseased.”

Some time ago Bololoy disappeared for about a month, leaving his family frantic with worry. But a neighbor happened to make the Wednesday novena to Our Mother of Perpetual Help in the Redemporist church in Baclaren and ran into him there. Probably the “special charm which is easier to cherish than to describe” had brought out the best in those who met him during the time he was lost. He was none the worse for the experience.

Leah is another friend of mine who has Trisomy 21. She is usually present at the weekday Masses I celebrate and is a high school graduate. Another is Vincent from Cebu, now recovering from a horrific experience while visiting family members in the USA when he had a severe reaction to a medicine he was taking. It caused much of his skin to burn and made it difficult for him to breathe. Thank God, he has come through this episode where he spent quite a few days in the ICU. Vincent has been working as a teacher’s aide in a school for special children.

I met Bololoy and Vincent through Faith and Light, a movement that grew out of an international pilgrimage to Lourdes in 1971 for persons with learning disabilities. This sprung from the experience of families being refused by groups of “normal” pilgrims. Every ten years members of the movement from all over the world gather in Lourdes from Holy Thursday to Easter Sunday. I was blessed to be there in 2001, traveling with a group from the north of England but chaplain to the small contingent from the Philippines. I was based in Britain at the time.

In each area where there are Faith and Light communities they hold a yearly pilgrimage around the feast of the Birthday of Our Blessed Mother. That’s why I was in Makati on September 14. At present there are communities only in the Manila area. A community consists of the “VIPs” – those with Trisomy 21 and other learning disabilities - parents and friends, usually young adults. They hold a celebration every month that includes time for parents to be together while the VIPs and friends have their own activity. Then there is time for prayer and the celebration ends with something to eat, usually a snack.

It’s not always easy for parents with a child who has a disability, whether a learning or a physical one. Many are born with both. But the thinking that Bololoy, Leah and Vincent are useless and that the world would be better had they not been born is utterly abhorrent. Some have described the awful reality in the USA that only ten percent of children with Trisomy 21 are allowed to be born as a form of eugenics. They are right.

There is no Faith and Light community in Bacolod. Anyone interested may contact me at undertheacacia@gmail.com.

'Under the Acacia' - my new weekly column, 22-23 September 2008

I've been invited to write a weekly column by the Negros Times, a new newspaper here in Bacolod published every Monday, Wednesday and Friday and aimed mainly at business people.

As you can read below, I'm taking up something I did before when I was based in Cebu City.

Introduction

The author is a Columban priest from Ireland who has been in the Philippines most of the time since 1971. Since October 2002 he has been based in Bacolod City as editor of Misyon www.misyononline.com, the magazine of the Columbans, and also has a personal blog at www.bangortobobbio.blogspot.com.

"When I was in Tangub City, Misamis Occidental, from 1978 till 1981, I often found myself chatting with people under the big acacia outside the old convento that was built by Japanese carpenters before World War II under the direction of the then parish priest, an American Jesuit. I’m sure the Japanese carpenters sat in the shade of that tree, as did Jesuit parish priests from the USA and Columban priests from that country and from Australia, England and Ireland down the years, chatting with their parishioners.

The Columbans took over the parish of St. Michael in the town of Tangub in 1938 under Australian Father Francis Chapman who later led the first Columbans in Negros in 1950 in what is now the Diocese of Kabankalan. He died in Cagayan de Oro in 2004. I happened to be the last Columban parish priest in Tangub City, holding that position for less than three months. However, I stayed on there for two more years in the newly-established Paul VI Formation House set up by the bishops of the “DOPIM” area – Dipolog, Ozamiz, Pagadian, Iligan and Marawi for their post-college / pre-theology seminarians. The one-year program there was moved to St Mary’s Seminary, Ozamiz City, in 1982.

When my late father John, who spent all of his working-life as a carpenter and as a foreman on construction sites, visited the Philippines in 1981, he spent about a month with me in Tangub. Though he didn’t have a word of Visayan and those who spoke English couldn’t understand him because of his accent, he was able to communicate friendship, especially to children, sitting on one of the benches under the big acacia, even though he was basically shy. His visit, in particular, made me aware of the acacia as a meeting-place.

When Juanito V. Jabat, then editor, now publisher, of The Freeman in Cebu invited me in the late 1980s to write a weekly column, I chose the title Under the Acacia. I wrote every week for about nine years. Editor-in-chief Edwin Karl G. Ombion of Negros Times has kindly invited me to appear every Monday in the paper and so after a break of nine or ten years I take my place “under the acacia” once again.

Until 1994, when I moved from Lianga, Surigao del Sur, to Manila, I relied on a sturdy typewriter which I had used for more than twenty years. Lianga didn’t even have a single telephone that time and I knew nothing about computers. I left my old typewriter with a parishioner who was trying to make ends meet by typing term-papers for students. She had been using an old machine in the convento, as I recall. I was delighted at not having to take my typewriter to yet another location. But I was even more delighted that it could help a hardworking person to earn an honest living.

I visited Ireland between Lianga and Manila in the summer of 1994 and took a short course in computers for missionaries. Our instructor was a religious sister who had worked in an African country for many years. She wasn’t great at teaching computer-skills but was a great motivator, telling us stories of lives that had been saved because of modern communications. I’m grateful to her for that. I learned how to use the computer mainly by practice, often feeling frustrated, as I still do on occasion when I’m trying to learn some new procedure.

When I started as editor of Misyon six years ago, we had only dial-up service on the internet and often it was impossible to connect. Broadband has been a blessing, not only in terms of speed and accessibility, but for research and, at times, even crisis counseling with persons on the other side of the world. I’ve also found the PLDT service here far more reliable than in Manila, especially at weekends.

The editor, like the editor of The Freeman before, hasn’t asked me to write on any specific topics. My column before wasn’t a “religious” one nor will it be now. I believe in the opening words of Gaudium et Spes, The Church in the Modern World, issued by Pope Paul VI and the world’s bishops on December 7, 1965, at the end of the Second Vatican Council: “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. Indeed, nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in their hearts”.

Each of us has many layers of identity. When I travel abroad I identify myself as an Irishman living in the Philippines. I’ve spent nearly all of my adult life here and so have developed a different identity in some ways from that of my brother, who has never lived outside of Ireland. But he and I, as the sons of the same father and mother, share an identity that goes far deeper than being Irish.

A basic part of my identity is being a priest. Holy Orders touch and change a man at the heart of his being. But even more fundamental than that identity, because without it I could not be a priest, is being a Catholic Christian, by virtue of my baptism, a son of God the Father.

It is my hope that whatever I write, on any topic, will somehow reflect that basic identity and the words of St Paul: “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Col 3:17). undertheacacia@gmail.com.