It was 1941 when our jubilarians entered Sacred Heart Novitiate in Novaliches. Bishop Freddie Escaler was newly 19. Father Roque Ferriols was close to 17. Father Catalino Arévalo had just turned from 15 to sweet 16. Father Jess Diaz was 18. On the US side, Father Bob Cunningham was 19, and Father Vic Helly was 17. Their other companions, all of about the same age, included those who who have gone on ahead – Fathers Eddie Hontiveros, Rudy Malasmas, Amancio Borja, Santi Gaa, Johnny Montenegro, Gus Natividad, Vinny San Juan. From the US were the late Fathers Jim Donelan, Jim McKeough, Francis Elsinghorst, and Vinny Towers. Young men all, in their teenage years, seeking to serve our Lord in the Company of Loyola.

 

Much has happened in 70 years. Our jubilarians have seen the start and end of a world war, the stability and growth of the 50s, the revolutionary shifts of Vatican II, the height of activism and Filipinization, the imposition of martial law and the rise and fall of a dictator, the rebirth of democracy, the turn of a new century, the devastation of the environment, the phenomenon called globalization, the birth of the internet, Google, Youtube, and social networking, the changes from snail mail to e-mail and texting, from modernism to post-modernism. Astounding, to think how these, our brothers, have watched and witnessed all these movements in history.  

 

As all this was happening, the constant in the lives of Fathers Roque, Revs, Jess, Vic, and Bob, and Bishop Freddie were the vows, the call to mission, to teach and preach in a world that was harsh at times, to lead God’s people, to share the sacraments, to accompany the many who were given them, to speak a word of life and encouragement. Today, as we celebrate this jubilee, our hearts are filled with thanksgiving – for perseverance, for miracles, and for dreams. 

 

First, we thank God for the gift of perseverance, of somehow managing to hang on through all the challenges of religious life, and remain faithful. The words of St. Paul remind us of the call to finish the race and keep the faith, strengthened by a God who stands by us, rescuing us at times and bringing us to safety. 

 

These days, Father Ben Nebres is walking as a pilgrim on the Camino de Santiago. I am privileged enough to be on his mailing list, receiving daily updates of his travels. He started from the French side of the Pyrenees last June 1, and he hopes to end in Santiago de Compostela, close to 800 kilometers away. Last June 20, he crossed the halfway mark. The last time I checked, he was on his 28th day of walking. 

 

In Father Ben’s reports, he tells us of the towns he passes through, the distances he walks, the weather, the terrain, the people he meets on the way, the food he eats, the Jesuit communities he visits. He narrates how his toes hurt at times, how water got into his camera and cell phone, how the onion soup in one inn would taste terrible and the trout in the next terrific, how he was surprised by a drinking fountain that gave wine rather than water, how he ended a day’s journey with Mass.

 

A few days ago, he reflected that the first two weeks were an adjustment period. After that, he says, the walking becomes regular. One might notice and be bothered by heat or cold, by rough terrain or steep climbs, but “… walking itself is pretty automatic. You just put one foot in front of the other! So long as you can keep doing that, and you know where you are going, you will get to your destination!”

 

You run the race, St. Paul says. You take it one step at the time, and just keep your eyes on the finish line. And by the grace of God, you will get there – perseverance, 70 years, your heart on what is ahead. For this gift to our jubilarians, we thank the Lord.

 

Second, we thank God for miracles. 

 

Last week, I was invited to Arvisu House, to speak to a group of young men considering  Jesuit life. At the open forum, I entertained all sorts of questions, from the important and insightful, to the inconsequential, and of course, every now and then, the Miss-Universe questions, like: What is it you like most about the Jesuits?

 

My answer to that question came quickly, surprisingly, supplied by the Holy Spirit. I said that what I liked most about Jesuits was their capacity to find their way through, in whatever task they are given. Even with a minimum of instructions, a meagerness of resources, a muddledness of objectives, and a maximum of obstacles, a Jesuit on mission is driven to find a way. He makes mistakes. He gets confused. His impatience can be intimidating. But in the end, he gets things done – able to set his own goals, discover good strategies, and inflame his work with passion – whether that’s Father Revs delivering a scholarly theological paper or Father Jess checking on finances, Father Roque explaining philosophical terms in Filipino to his terrified students or Bishop Freddie advising the priests of Ipil. The Jesuit miracle is that despite his many imperfections, a job is done and some good actually comes out of it.

 

And then, a second look reveals the real miracle – not that the Jesuit finds a way to get a job done, but that it is God who finds a way to work through what they do and wonderfully brings light and life and love. In the first reading, we read about what seems to be a miracle. St. Peter is in jail, with double chains, sleeping between two soldiers, guarded by four squads of four soldiers each. In the middle of the night, an angel wakes him, and bids him to just go, and he does. A miracle has happened. But the miracle here is not so much about chains that fall from the wrists or the iron gate that opens by itself, or guards that fail to notice an escape. The miracle is about a God who finds a way to bring grace into a messy world, and good news to the broken-hearted. 

 

Lord, we thank you for the many miracles you have worked through the lives of our Jesuit jubilarians.

 

Finally, we thank God for dreams.

 

Father Timothy Radcliffe, former Master General of the Dominicans, tells us about a homily delivered at a profession of vows. The preacher looks back at his many years of religious life as he gives advice to the vovendi. He recalls all his labors to build and construct, to leave some good behind, to implement some plan, to satisfy some social need. And then he said that in the end, he also saw how, inevitably, some idiot came along after him, and tore down all he built, and called it progress. “So,” he says, “I want to give you this piece of counsel, whatever schemes you may hatch, whatever plans you may formulate be sure of one thing, God will frustrate them!” Father Radcliffe then points out that this is true because often our dreams are too small, and that if God demolishes them, it is so that we may venture out into the larger space of his life. “God,” he says, “liberates us from small ambitions so that we may learn to hope more extravagantly.” After all, we are destined for “what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor 2: 9). In the meantime, we humbly accept the gift of dreams, the extravagant ambitions of a liberating God. 

 

In the Gospel, after Jesus hears about what people say of him, he turns to his disciples once more and says, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter gives the true answer, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” And then the Lord gifts Peter with a dream, “You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church.” It was not Peter’s dream. It was the Lord’s dream for Peter, which he must have barely understood at that time, but which came to be, far bigger than anything Peter could have imagined.

 

God dreams for each of us, as he has been dreaming for Bishop Freddie and Father Revs and Father Roque and Father Jess. And even now, as they look forward to life after their 70 years as Jesuits, we are sure that bigger dreams are forthcoming, and they can only entrust their lives once more unto his loving hands.

 

No one here is certain how far we will go – how many anniversaries we will be blessed to celebrate, as Jesuits, or as lay Christians. Today, as we rejoice with Father Roque, Bishop Freddie, Father Revs, Father Jess, Father Bob, and Father Vic, we recognize God’s gifts to them of seventy years, in perseverance through the day-to-day struggles, with miracles that are blessings woven into their lives, and towards dreams that are constantly unfolding, which are always bigger than they have been able to see. We can only pray with our Blessed Mother, with souls proclaiming the greatness of the Lord, with spirits rejoicing in God our Savior, for He has looked with favor on his lowly servants. Amen.

 

 

- Fr. Jojo Magadia, SJ

Preached during the Mass celebrating the 70th year of Frs. Arevalo, Diaz, Ferriols, and Bishop Escaler in the Society of Jesus

Oratory of St. Ignatius, Loyola House of Studies

29 June 2011

 

 

Message given by Fr. Roque Ferriols at the end of the Mass:

 

I wish to thank you all who have come here to join in our thanksgiving, in spite of the bad weather. When we joined the Society on May 30 1941, the weather was also bad.

 

As my contribution to the celebration I wish to share a short meditation on two verses by the prophet Jeremiah, and some lines from a prayer much loved by Saint Ignatius.

 

In his Lamentations, Jeremiah says: "It is good for a man to carry the yoke of the Lord from his youth." He was an old man contemplating the ruins of Jerusalem when he wrote that verse. He had spent a lifetime of trial and tribulation, carrying the yoke of the Lord, and he was looking for a word to describe it all. And he found the word: Good. From the days of his youth he was carrying the yoke of the Lord, and it was very good.

 

Seventy years ago, I joined the Society of Jesus. I thought I was beginning a lifetime looking for God. But it was given me to know that throughout my lifetime, God has been looking for me. With infinite tenderness, patience, and with great humility, God has been looking for me. God is humble. He waits for me to allow him to find me. Yet in the mystery of his grace, I need his grace to be able to allow him to find me. I have to pray: Lord, grant me the grace to allow you to find me.

 

As a novice and later as a scholastic, when they sang the Office of Tenebrae during Holy Week, I was always thrilled when they came to the verse: "Bonum est praestolare salutare domini in silentio." "It is good to wait for the saving help of the Lord in silence."

 

If you are having difficulties with your vocation, wait in silence. Wait in silence, and the Lord will come and save you.

 

And now we come to the lines form a prayer Saint Ignatius loved, the Anima Christi:

 

 

 

 

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