I was one of the participants who took part in the course of Spirituality organized by our congregation - Missionaries of St Charles held 1-30 June 2001 in Piacenza, Italy. We were thirty-eight (38) Scalabrinian missionaries working in different countries namely, Italy, France, Germany, Switzerland, Luxembourg, Brazil, Argentina, Venezuela, Paraguay, Mxico, U.S.A., Taiwan, Philippines and Australia. We came together with different expectations about the course but the values under-girding our commitment to multiculturalism (supranationalism), that is to the principles of practice of God's love across the frontiers of cultures, enabled us to make a difference in our lives.
Described as a journey of relationship that stood as a living re-enforcement and source of spirituality as Scalabrinians, we sailed through the process of developing those habits of the heart and mind intrinsic to life-long and vibrant learning. Our group though, showed as a beacon of something which committed to transparency and respect to local customs.
Fr Gaetano Parolin, Vicar General, introduced the course quite pretty well on the first day whilst Frs Claudio Ambrozio and Flor Mara Rigoni, acted as our facilitators during the whole program. Both of them did their best in guiding us each day with our schedule. They provided us a focus for a common agreement based on reciprocal duties and responsibilities which we shared. All the part of the warp and woof of daily activities was a learning experience for us.
We listened to the talks given by some of our Scalabrinian confreres who exhibited competence in their respective fields of specialization. Their reports had clarity of perception and soundness of scholarship. Personally, I pondered here how our congregation copes with changes paralleled to some degree by the changes that occurred in the early years of its foundation. I engaged in reflecting on the values of our culture and our commitment to depth as religious missionaries. It came out like a starting point of my dilemma as I wrestled with my sense of belonging in this group. It was my reaction though. However, as I treasured that experience and pondered it in my heart, as Mary did, I focused on the strength and beauty that can grow out of such an unspeakable discomfort that we shared in our life. I told myself that no matter how hard it may be to live together and rough at the major crossroads, I should keep in the game and diligently cultivate many rewarding relationships.
Perhaps, mired in molasses, but likely relevant to my own experience, are the words from Reinhold Niebuhr, a great Protestant theologian who once wrote: "Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our life-time; therefore, we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore, we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, no matter how virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we must be saved by love." These brought to my mind that God's words give wings to the wounded individuals and suffuse them with vibrant new life. Hence, keeping that faith alive in my heart, I was able to see beyond and never allowed others to put a damper on me. It thus spawned a good portion along that great stretch that aligns my inner and outer-self as a person.
I also spent some time thinking on our way of life as missionaries with a see-saw attitude concerning our rules of life with some contesting views and resurgent principles which are too shredded to be put through the tug-of-war over individual accountability. Dubbed as a mile wide in the topics we engaged in but only an inch length as regards time allotment, our varied opinions though were raised and I was glued to absorb those existing issues evident in us.
Our discourses were heard and shared with difference and otherness embodied in the cultures and contexts of every individual. It was something worthy of mention which involved the experience of tension between our assimilation and the ideals of consecrated life. Hence, we all grappled with it trying to un-stick ourselves from hardened myths of lifestyle and attitude which virtually polarize our understanding of religious life today.
As I was so skewed toward the importance of collegiality amongst ourselves, I was able to spend a good deal of time reflecting on the bits and pieces of our interactions at the Mother House. We made every effort to help one another in liturgy, presentation of our individual testimony, sharing of stories and even jokes especially during meals and in-between periods of our daily sessions. I was so pleased to spend some time too talking with them whilst walking and releasing some of the stress enzymes that had built up in our bodies as a result of our exhaustions for each day. Truly, I enjoyed listening to some of their stories.
Some of them were adept at perceiving the movement of our mission apostolate, deconstructing the grid models we used to have, and suggesting a cogency of logic in opening our doors to the new immigrants by inculcating preferential options and goals that will contribute to the commonweal of the congregation and its future repercussions. Others were so agog to follow this lead and perhaps an appropriate testament to our flexibility and creativity more than a midnight epiphany.
The re-focusing of our Scalabrinian spirituality shored up a common culture based on our history as a congregation and its charism at large. It was evident though that our speakers particularly our confreres did a significant contribution to our sense of awareness. They explored the texts and other written records and unearthed the theological baggage of centuries culled from the wisdom of our Founder. I remember in the Canterbury Tales where Geoffrey Chaucer pays tribute the holiness of many unknown clergy when he writes thus of the poor parson of his day:
But Christe's love and his apostles twelve; He taught, but first he followed it himself.
It is interesting to note that in today's culture, where formal religion is disregarded but spirituality is treasured is one of the challenges that we face nowadays in our ministry. It is something deep and universal in us which thus becomes the ground on which we can meet. It came to my mind when our ancestors set foot on the shore of their new homeland, their neighbours planted for them the so-called seed of tolerance. With that emerging tolerance, respect, and compassion as their companions, these migrants were able to survive and prosper. I think the same logic applies to our ministry where we walk humbly with them and help those who are isolated and lonely feel connected to Christ though our presence. This is one aspect which drew my attention as waves of migration elsewhere in the world continue to harbor enormous challenges to industrialized nations and their population growth.
I came to ponder too on the flowering of a third world consciousness, its re-readings of the Bible which aim to redress an imbalance with those who don't quite flow with the mainstream like the poor and oppressed, the sick and elderly, the handicapped and powerless, the dispossessed, the broken, and alienated. I was catapulted again in the midst of a great wave of theological rhetoric as if it were like "the beautiful despair of Philippine Renaissance." My conviction to associate myself with my own people burst into flame as I wished to subtract poverty from the baseline of being Filipino. I knew that our academics and scholarly guilds in numerous arenas of researches and discourses have undergone epic changes in forming the minds and consciences of our future leaders in Colonial Philippines, but I think that our popular culture is strong enough to be disguised by the fantasies and dreams of our greed and corruption.
It was something else that became the magnet for a cavalcade of criticisms. In the same vein, whilst the first Scalabrinian missionaries in the U.S. enjoyed their positions and powers as ministers to the immigrants, many of them left the order with astonishing twists and turns, drenched in human weaknesses and awash in material possessions. This reminded me of Charles Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol' where he wrote about the evils of the love of money. The story, of course, is the tale of a greedy man and the trio of ghosts - Christmas past, present and future - who persuade him to open his heart. Dickens' focus is on social ills - the cravings for wealth in particular. I guess this is one of our achilles heels even for us missionaries as we come to grips with some of our unresolved issues as persons. Like Charles Dickens as he walked each evening after working on his story 'A Christmas Carol' all day, he would go out into the chilly London night, covering ten to fifteen miles. He walked the way he wrote: with much on his mind, and much in his heart. It has parallelism in our journey too being called to serve. It's implicit in us that we should always move beyond our comfort zones to ministry to various peoples including those of diverse cultures, varied skin shades, and backgrounds.
Amid the glut of historical sites and scenery, the grandeur of edifices of the numerous buildings and antiquated churches, our group though had the opportunity to visit some places where our Founder was born, grew up, became a priest and exercised his priestly ministry as a professor in the seminary and pastor before he was elevated into the episcopacy in the diocese of Piacenza. It enamoured me of the social milieu and spirit of the local people.
The Cathedrals of Como and Cremona for instance were splendid examples of architectural beauty like that of the one in Piacenza. I explored the amazing sights and appreciation by taking some pictures and buying post cards to remind me of those places we visited. Some museums had their unrivalled collection of decorative arts which were unbelievable precious and gorgeous. The classical paintings and frescoes in the churches were really a feast for the eyes. They're amazing!
We went to the Vescovile Seminary too in Bedonia where we spent a night to get acquainted with an important visit made by Blessed Scalabrini. Just adjacent to the seminary was the church where we celebrated the Sunday mass with the people.
With Fr Beniamino di Rossi, provincial superior of the European region, we headed for other significant sites like that in Cremona where we visited the Cathedral and home of St Frances Cabrini in Lode, who was also instrumental in our mission to the Italian immigrants in the U.S.
I found many significant stories recounted to us by our guide. Their depths and tolerance were unfathomable. I still believed that somewhere along the way is a spiritual place unmarked by the passage of time. That's allowing our human hearts to speak in silence as we commune with God. There were capsule reflections shared whilst we tried to recall our history of Catholicism. This time though, I thought of the hostility toward religion in the U.S. where the majority opinion bristles with animosity to all things religious in public life. What precisely came out as a bone of contention was the form of religion that is offensive, exclusive and that makes distinctions between believers and non-believers. The public prayer that favours a particular form of religious expression constitutes an odyssey of a particular faith. This is I think a far cry from the real issue of our historical differences.
Fr Isaia Birollo, Superior General, spoke lengthily on certain points highlighting the thread of specificsin the rules of life. He linked us with the Tradition and the wealth that Scriptures, Vatican Council II, and religious discipleship have to offer us. He encouraged us to speak our minds and bring to discussion our own varieties of experience. His words of encouragement are like 'chicken soup for the soul'.
Over the period of time we stayed in Italy, appetite for Italian flavours was satiated with a variety of combinations like cheese, minestrone, panzerotte, pasta, fried fish, vermicelli, pea sprouts, mushrooms, etc. Whilst the taste and ingredients pleased my mouth, the symbolic implication in each dish delighted my imagination; and my joy spoke volumes about that hope for my return someday in the future. Certainly, I would miss it.
Ernest Hemingway once said, "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." Comparatively, like his definition of Paris, wherever I am, I carry with me the beautiful memories I've had in Italy. It meets me there and supplies sustenance.
