paul and menchie
The only logical thing about the movie Tanging Ina is her use of two aphorisms or sayings from which she would draw a unique conclusion. She said, Practice makes perfect, but nobody is perfect, so why practice? So you also watched that movie. I must admit I also watched that movie and I was entertained up to a certain extent, and when I could not stand it anymore I left even before reaching the middle part. I must admit there has always been a limit to my patience as my students very well know and perhaps very well experienced.
But this is one aphorism that almost made me fell from my seat. How is it possible that nobody thought of this before? It is perfectly logical, it is absolutely coherent and it is very down to earth, isn’t it? Practice makes perfect, but nobody is perfect, so why practice? But thanks be to God nobody thought of this before, otherwise I would have a hard time convincing everyone to report for music practice, or suffer the long hours of practicing a stage play, a mass service, a sport or an academic exercise. If, after this movie, teachers and formators will have a hard time arguing with their wards the value of practicing in their quest for excellence, I have assured myself that it will no longer be my problem. I gave up teaching a few months ago or to be more exact they gave me up a few months ago.
If there is anything wrong with Tanging Ina’s conclusion it is because of the first aphorism, it is because the first premise may be wrong. In real life practice does not make it perfect. It can only do two things: practice makes less mistakes and practice makes one stronger and wiser in handling future mistakes, a rehearsal to my future mistakes. Looking back in my seminary years as a formator I would dare say in hindsight that it was a mistake to send seminarians meant for priesthood for pastoral in Pototan, for example (I am referring to the commentator.). Or to have this so called class interaction during High School with cute girls from Hijas (I am referring to the bride and groom). And despite the endless hours of practices and preparations, IC’s and spiritual directions, look and behold, except for these few people behind me now who became priests, I am facing many of them who never made it.
But what is a mistake? Is it something avoidable in life? Is it something we could avoid by practicing? By all means yes. We can avoid them. We could lessen them. But most of the mistakes that we do in life are not the mistakes that we can avoid, but the mistakes that simply come, the mistakes that simply and even spontaneously appear. It is in this context that I would like to reflect with you on the gospel for Paul’s and Menchie’s wedding.
The young couple in our gospel today made an all too glaring mistake everyone would come to know about if no immediate solution can be provided. They underestimated the wine. The wine ran out. In Jewish culture which value wedding celebrations, it was about to become a major source of embarrassment throughout their married life if no solution can be found immediately. But as soon as the problem cropped up, an all too assuming mother of one of the guests came up with the solution. She presented her son, Jesus. To save them from a major embarrassment somebody, someone in the crowd of revellers has to give more than what was expected, to give more than what was assumed, to give more than what was prepared for. And Jesus, in their lack, in their want gave them more – 6 jars more, each one holding 15 to 25 gallons more. This is a very significant insight for us mistake-makers. Jesus gives us the example of what it is and how it is to live life together with a human being prone to make mistakes.
Somebody has to give more than what is asked or expected. Someone has to give more than what was practiced beforehand. One of you has to give more than what was presumed. “You love me and I know, but I promise that I will love you more.” No you are not just being asked to promise before each other, I will love you for better or for worse. When the other says that tell him, when the other says that tell her, “yes, but I will love you more . . . even more.”
Paul received a good beating in his stint as my assistant, the assistant to the maestro de ceremonias in liturgical celebrations. He preferred to join the choir instead, playing the base guitar in the background. And besides he was too clumsy, he lacked the finesse of the masters who with one single look can speak a whole paragraph complete with invectives, rants and words which should rather be left unsaid in such sacred occasions. But I did taught you once saying to you that the liturgy might be the last thing you’d love, but I want to teach you at that instant that love is not just a spontaneous feeling we have for something or for somebody. I wanted to teach you that love too can be learned. Young as you were then, you have to learn to love, even to love what you do not like. It was my way of preparing you to a vocation that would require you to love even more.
Are you both capable of this? Can you become like Jesus in your love so that when the unavoidable mistakes come you could love even more?
This we still have to see. Life is an OJT which leaves no room for practices and rehearsals. But Menchie, for the record, I did break you up once hoping that Paul would be more focused and intent in becoming a priest. Through some subtle manoeuvrings Paul ended up in Tagaytay because, following Tanging Ina’s penchant for quotes I would say “Far from the sight, far from the heart.” Little did I know of the existence of another quote which says, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder still.” I had the feeling then that both of you were undergoing one tough ride because of the break-up and this was confirmed when I was preaching during the Sunday Benediction in the seminary on the need to sacrifice, the need to undergo the pain of letting go. I knew someone was listening intently, and deeply affected at that, when out of the blue he rose up in protest and walked out of the chapel in anger and in tears of one who had been hurt so deeply. The anger that night took some time to dissipate and the tears took a full hour to dry. It was then that I realized and probably it was also then that he realized that, “Menchie,” and I want to tell you this personally, “Menchie I came to realize that Paul loved you even more.”
In the years to come I would want you to go back to that event in your life, when the wicked and evil step-mother, that was me, made you realize what both of you are capable of doing for one another. When mistakes come compete in your love for one another or as St. Paul would say, outdo one another in your love. Turn to Jesus, look to Jesus for he is one who would never be outdone in his love.
But this is one aphorism that almost made me fell from my seat. How is it possible that nobody thought of this before? It is perfectly logical, it is absolutely coherent and it is very down to earth, isn’t it? Practice makes perfect, but nobody is perfect, so why practice? But thanks be to God nobody thought of this before, otherwise I would have a hard time convincing everyone to report for music practice, or suffer the long hours of practicing a stage play, a mass service, a sport or an academic exercise. If, after this movie, teachers and formators will have a hard time arguing with their wards the value of practicing in their quest for excellence, I have assured myself that it will no longer be my problem. I gave up teaching a few months ago or to be more exact they gave me up a few months ago.
If there is anything wrong with Tanging Ina’s conclusion it is because of the first aphorism, it is because the first premise may be wrong. In real life practice does not make it perfect. It can only do two things: practice makes less mistakes and practice makes one stronger and wiser in handling future mistakes, a rehearsal to my future mistakes. Looking back in my seminary years as a formator I would dare say in hindsight that it was a mistake to send seminarians meant for priesthood for pastoral in Pototan, for example (I am referring to the commentator.). Or to have this so called class interaction during High School with cute girls from Hijas (I am referring to the bride and groom). And despite the endless hours of practices and preparations, IC’s and spiritual directions, look and behold, except for these few people behind me now who became priests, I am facing many of them who never made it.
But what is a mistake? Is it something avoidable in life? Is it something we could avoid by practicing? By all means yes. We can avoid them. We could lessen them. But most of the mistakes that we do in life are not the mistakes that we can avoid, but the mistakes that simply come, the mistakes that simply and even spontaneously appear. It is in this context that I would like to reflect with you on the gospel for Paul’s and Menchie’s wedding.
The young couple in our gospel today made an all too glaring mistake everyone would come to know about if no immediate solution can be provided. They underestimated the wine. The wine ran out. In Jewish culture which value wedding celebrations, it was about to become a major source of embarrassment throughout their married life if no solution can be found immediately. But as soon as the problem cropped up, an all too assuming mother of one of the guests came up with the solution. She presented her son, Jesus. To save them from a major embarrassment somebody, someone in the crowd of revellers has to give more than what was expected, to give more than what was assumed, to give more than what was prepared for. And Jesus, in their lack, in their want gave them more – 6 jars more, each one holding 15 to 25 gallons more. This is a very significant insight for us mistake-makers. Jesus gives us the example of what it is and how it is to live life together with a human being prone to make mistakes.
Somebody has to give more than what is asked or expected. Someone has to give more than what was practiced beforehand. One of you has to give more than what was presumed. “You love me and I know, but I promise that I will love you more.” No you are not just being asked to promise before each other, I will love you for better or for worse. When the other says that tell him, when the other says that tell her, “yes, but I will love you more . . . even more.”
Paul received a good beating in his stint as my assistant, the assistant to the maestro de ceremonias in liturgical celebrations. He preferred to join the choir instead, playing the base guitar in the background. And besides he was too clumsy, he lacked the finesse of the masters who with one single look can speak a whole paragraph complete with invectives, rants and words which should rather be left unsaid in such sacred occasions. But I did taught you once saying to you that the liturgy might be the last thing you’d love, but I want to teach you at that instant that love is not just a spontaneous feeling we have for something or for somebody. I wanted to teach you that love too can be learned. Young as you were then, you have to learn to love, even to love what you do not like. It was my way of preparing you to a vocation that would require you to love even more.
Are you both capable of this? Can you become like Jesus in your love so that when the unavoidable mistakes come you could love even more?
This we still have to see. Life is an OJT which leaves no room for practices and rehearsals. But Menchie, for the record, I did break you up once hoping that Paul would be more focused and intent in becoming a priest. Through some subtle manoeuvrings Paul ended up in Tagaytay because, following Tanging Ina’s penchant for quotes I would say “Far from the sight, far from the heart.” Little did I know of the existence of another quote which says, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder still.” I had the feeling then that both of you were undergoing one tough ride because of the break-up and this was confirmed when I was preaching during the Sunday Benediction in the seminary on the need to sacrifice, the need to undergo the pain of letting go. I knew someone was listening intently, and deeply affected at that, when out of the blue he rose up in protest and walked out of the chapel in anger and in tears of one who had been hurt so deeply. The anger that night took some time to dissipate and the tears took a full hour to dry. It was then that I realized and probably it was also then that he realized that, “Menchie,” and I want to tell you this personally, “Menchie I came to realize that Paul loved you even more.”
In the years to come I would want you to go back to that event in your life, when the wicked and evil step-mother, that was me, made you realize what both of you are capable of doing for one another. When mistakes come compete in your love for one another or as St. Paul would say, outdo one another in your love. Turn to Jesus, look to Jesus for he is one who would never be outdone in his love.
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