TRIBUTE TO MY FATHER ON FATHERS' DAY

“My children, I wish above all else that you may prosper and be of good health, even as your soul prospers.” (3^rd John 2)

My father was a story-teller, that’s probably the gift that I inherited from him. In the days when there were no televisions, in rural Philippines of the ‘60’s, a story-teller is synonymous to being a talk show host. At nighttime, children from the neighborhood would come to our home and my father would regale them with stories about his exploits during the Second World War, how he eluded the pursuing Japanese soldiers and how he camouflaged by hugging a banana tree, covering himself with its dried leaves. At other times, he would tell us about legends and folk tales: the story of the turtle and the monkey, the fable of the sky and the earth, the legend of a mysterious bird, Adarna. I always know when he would end the session. He would tell an open-ended story: “There was a flock of geese swimming in the river. It was a wide river so let us now turn off the lamp and go to sleep and let’s continue tomorrow when they have already crossed the river.”

My father was a man of principles and a fiercely idealistic person, something which my mother, a pragmatist, did not fully share. She thought that we could not survive on his principles. After the Second World War, he was supposed to pursue his military career by going to Korea to participate in the Korean War. He refused to do so and was penalized by having his pension withheld. He resigned from the service. At “peace time”, he was advised to kowtow with some politicians so he could have his pension but he refused. Instead, he turned to become a tailor, working day and night, drinking away his frustrations with coconut wine (tuba), till he developed tuberculosis.

We were six children in the family and although we were poor, we excelled in elementary school. Every graduation day, my mother would come up the stage several times to pin ribbons for her honored children. When I finished Grade Six, I was supposed to be the salutatorian (second honor) but was demoted to third honor because my father refused to give a contribution of a chicken. It was a tradition that the honor students would each give a chicken for the reception dinner for the visiting school superintendent. Although he would have freely given such a chicken as a gift, he was questioning the morality that it be tied to being in the honor roll. It’s tantamount to a bribe, he said. My mother, behind my father’s back, surreptitiously gave a chicken to the school principal but it was too late.

One night, my father and mother had a quarrel. It was about our future. My mother was blaming him for our poverty. Had he not stood on his principles, we would have enjoyed receiving a military pension. He would have had money to send us to high school. We would not have to miss a meal. We would not have to squat on someone’s land. The argument became so heated that my father decided to leave. He packed up a luggage and headed to the bus station. I followed him, crying and begging for him to stay. It was providential that the bus was delayed. Till midnight, we were looking at each other. My tears dried up and the bus did not come. He finally relented. He took my hand, I carried the luggage and we both went back home. His was the first marriage I saved.

Later it was my turn to run away from home, not to spite my family, but to seek my future. When I read the parable of the prodigal son in the bible, I did not resonate with it personally. I was the runaway but my father did not have material inheritance for me to squander. I suffered being homeless and alone in the big city of Manila but I was fortunate to finally land a job, obtain higher education and improve myself. When I returned home, years later, it was not to regain a gold ring or to enjoy a feast of fatted calf. It was to buy that piece of land for our house, to help my siblings go to school and to pay for the treatment of my father’s tuberculosis. In one of his wartime stories, he talked about his favorite meal in the barracks, “pork luncheon meat.” I brought a whole box of canned pork luncheon meat. They lasted a few months, to his heart’s delight. And he lived a few more years.

I was a missionary clergy in Singapore when I learned that my father was gravely-ill. I hurried to return home once again but my plane was delayed. I finally arrived but he was gone to be with the Lord. His last words were one of thanksgiving. My youngest brother said he died with a smile for he knew I was coming and we are much better than we were before. I remain a priest in gratitude to God, our heavenly Father, who makes all things possible. Happy Father’s Day.

THE LIGHT OF CHRIST ENLIGHTENS EVERYONE

(One of the homilies of the Rev. Dr. Fred Vergara, Priest-in-charge of St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church, 2197 Jackson Avenue, Seaford, NY 11783. Come and join our Sunday Eucharist at 10:00 A.M. and experience a spirit-filled worship, inspirational message and hospitable fellowship of this beautiful church in the Diocese of Long Island. Visit our website:www.stmichaelseaford.org)

One of the chants we would most likely hear in church next week, particularly on Easter Vigil is “The Light of Christ” for which we respond, “Thanks be to God!”

Part of my childhood is growing up in the care of my maternal grandparents. We were six children in the family and my parents could not care for all of us, so most of the time my grandparents would pick out some of us, to be under their care. Considering that they had other grandchildren from my mother’s siblings, you can imagine how blessed I was to gain the title of a favorite grandson.

My grandfather was so dearly attached to me. He would often carry me on his shoulders and we would go to church with my grandma. Then we would head up to the river to go fishing. Like a heavenly Father in the Bible stories I learned in church, he would guide me along the paths I’ve never known before and would show me the breathtaking sceneries I’ve never seen before. I learned to know a lot about life from the life of my grandfather.

One day, by old age and glaucoma, my grandfather became blind and I realized that our roles had changed. Instead of him leading me by the hand to explore the world, it would be my turn to take him by the hand and to bring him to places he wanted to go. This time, however, he could not see where he was going so I had to describe it to him. I realized how important it is to be able to see.

In the gospel of John (8:12-20), Jesus said, “I am the light for the world. Follow me and you won’t be walking in the dark. You will have the light that gives life.” Jesus equates light and life. In the beginning of the world, there was only darkness. Then God said, “let there be light---and there was light”---and life begins!

Where there is light, there is life; where there is light, there is hope; where there is light, there is joy; where there is light, there is peace.

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, recently issued her pastoral letter for Easter and she wrote, “Easter recollects us and reorients us toward God’s eternal light of truth and peace and love.  The resurrection is the ultimate proclamation that nothing can separate us from that light, not despair or destruction or death.  We see hints of that resurrection all around us once our eyes have learned to look, and we continue to hope for its fullness, for the blessing of a light so encompassing that there can be no darkness or separation.”

After about two years of being blind, my grandfather died. I was already seven years old. On his dying day, all of our family gathered together. By the light of seven candles, surrounded by prayers, each one of his thirty total grandchildren lined up to receive his blessing and forgiveness and to bid goodbye. I sat by his bedside. I saw no tears from his eyes. He groped for my face and finally closed his eyes forever. I felt the pain of separation, knowing that I would not see my grandpa again. My parents, my church, and my faith would later assure me that in Christ, there is no ultimate separation. The light of Christ never fades.

I learned that the darkness in our lives, the struggles, the trials, the challenges that come our way, even suffering, need to be embraced because they increase our yearning for God. Jesus did not escape from the reality of pain and suffering. Instead, he embraced it, yearning for the salvation of the world and the atonement of the Father. San Juan dela Cruz, the Spanish poet and mystic, wrote about the “darkness of the soul.” It is not physical darkness, it is a spiritual darkness. Modern science calls it “depression,” a kind of darkness that envelopes the soul. But in that darkness, we long for the light. Lent and the holy week observance is a longing for that Easter light.

The Presiding Bishop concludes her message. “Lent…is a willingness to experience the darkness of our current separation and tune our yearning for the light of Christ. Carry that yearning into Eastertide, and beyond, that we and the world around us may know the blessing of the light of Christ.” My grandfather had yearned for this light beyond his grave. I too will carry that yearning for that light, the eternal light, the light that never fades.

At Holy Week, we observe the passion, suffering, crucifixion and death or Jesus Christ. I've always wondered by we called the Friday he died as "Good Friday." I know now...because Sunday is coming! The suffering of Christ on Friday was nothing compared to the resurrection glory of Easter Sunday. Today, it's time I experience a Friday gloom, I say to my soul, "why are you cast down? Lift up! It is Good Friday and Easter Sunday is coming!" May the light of Christ be upon you..