17 years
Last June 15 I celebrated my 17th year in the priesthood. I am glad that it was an uneventful day, as I preferred it to be, for it gave me time to do the things I seldom do anymore because of the priesthood. One of which was I gave myself a full 2 hour siesta and the other was to remember and relive (at least in memory like an old movie) what happened 17 years ago. This includes getting into those old boxes of memorabilia and holding once more those things which connects me tangibly to my past.
June 14, 1993, the day before my ordination, I went to the Archbishop’s Residence to present myself to Msgr. Piamonte asking his permission if I could sleep at the Palacio so that we could go together in the morning for the ordination in Oton (my hometown). He said there was no room for me at the Palacio and that I should go to the Cathedral instead and look for a room there and that I should come back early the next day so that we could go together to Oton. I was about to leave then when, in the spirit of respect and hospitality, I asked him if he could go to our house in Oton that night for dinner – a pre-ordination dinner as was the tradition then at that time. He looked at me sternly and in a voice that was almost angry he reminded me that in the olden days the bishop who ordains and the person to be ordained fasted. I was disturbed. I wanted my ordination to be perfect reflecting my ideals on the priesthood and here I was at the start of the festivity of my lifetime berated for feasting when we should have been fasting. Indeed Murphy’s law was at work full swing – if anything can go wrong it will! I apologized profusely and I went out of the Palacio sullen and grave not knowing what to do with the feast that evening where I was expected. So that night I went about entertaining priests and friends careful that I would not touch even a morsel.
June 15, 1993, I was up early to pray and went to the Palacio at 7:00 still in a somber mood and really anxious as to what could still go wrong as the day unfolded. When I went up the Palacio I came upon Msgr. Piamonte who was heartily eating breakfast. He invited me to sit down and eat. Wanting to please him this time I said out of the blue, “Thank you monsignor but I am fasting.” He stopped while his spoon was at midflight to his mouth, looked at me for a second or two. Our eyes met and I thought I would melt on the spot. At that exact moment I realized the implication of what I just said. I was fasting but he was not, and he told me the night before that we both must fast. And he must have realized it too when he said “Ok, but I will do my fasting tonight.” So why should he be fasting when we should be already feasting? It dawned on me that I just got even with him unintentionally. I tried so hard to suppress a smile. And so there he was eating his breakfast while I sat there in front of him in silence, praying that my empty stomach (since the night before) would not grumble loud enough for him to hear.
At 8:00 we were off to Oton for the 8:30 ordination mass. He sat in the front seat of the cream-colored L-300 van while I sat far back. And in silence I composed my thanksgiving response to be delivered after the ordination mass. When we arrived another unforeseen incident happened. The church compound has 3 gates two of which the organizers closed for cars and only one was opened. They wanted to clear the church for the ordination and only priests can park inside the compound.
A few minutes before we arrived two cars bumped each other right there on the lone gate that was in use, and following protocol during mishaps such as this, they left the two cars where they were and called the police. That was the exact time we arrived and Msgr. Piamonte was raging mad when we could not enter the church because of the two cars blocking the gate. He said, “kami ang important character di, indi nyo kami pagpasudlon.” Anyway we went out of the car and proceeded to the grotto for the vesting which was actually a few meters from where we were. And the ordination mass started on time with Msgr. Claudio Sale as the Master of Ceremonies, the theology seminarians (most of whom eventually became priests) serving, the Oton Choir singing Misa Lanton by Maghari, common songs known by the people, conducted by a seminarian, now a priest, Fr. Doming Alimajen (he also composed the beautiful responsorial psalm sung during the ordination), with a church sparklingly cleaned by Fr. Tom Terania, and beautifully decorated by Michael Caling, which Andy Malan happily executed complete with a red carpet that reached the car port in front of the church. (In the parish, I explicitly prohibited them from turning my ordination into a circus complete with bands and programs to extol the priesthood. I decided then that that was not the kind of priesthood I wanted.) My vestments were made to order, compliments of my sister, in 5 liturgical colors with the textile designed and made by Tita Cecile Villanueva of Sinamay in the loom-wooven tradition of Iloilo, and tailored in the traditional gothic shape design by Edgar Jarantilla.
The most memorable thing that happened during the ordination however (which almost everyone still remembers) was when I lied prostrate on the floor for the Litany of the Saints. Lo and behold, my new shoes had on one of its soles the price tag still attached underneath for all to see. The official photographer, Allan Fajardo of Black Box, recorded that oversight into perpetuity.
I read my thanksgiving response which was introduced with a long quotation from the book of Psalms of which I still have the copy in my infamous almost illegible (even to me) handwriting. In that thanksgiving I never mentioned anybody except God, who was after all the source of all good things and all goodness in people. Then each was given a tree seedling to be planted (500 majogany seedlings and 300 fruit trees most of which were jackfruit saplings) each with a tag (printed for free by Tay Bert Kilayko of Sacred Heart Press then) which says “gintanum sa kadayawan sang Dios, ang ginagikanan sang tanan nga kaayohan – June 15, 1993.” Five years later a parishioner from Oton gave my mother the first fruit of the jackfruit that he planted on the day of my ordination. Another parishioner informed my mother 15 years later that he had the majogany made into chairs for his dining table.
My brother served lunch after ordination packed in tiny carton boxes distributed around the church compound, to be eaten anywhere they liked – there were no formal tables to eat from, no programs to watch and not even a grace before meals! My brother then was still a budding but overly ambitious wanna-be caterer who took strides that day feeding a thousand guests so that he could launch his catering business on my ordination day, which explains why to this day it is called Alejandro’s.
June 16, 1993, I celebrated my first mass (it was actually the second mass after the ordination mass of which I was already a concelebrant) in honor of Our Mother of Perpetual Help. On June 17, a Thursday, I celebrated my Thanksgiving Mass at our Barangay Chapel (San Nicolas, Oton, from where I learned my first catechesis) with Msgr. Nonoy Masculino (a real neighbor in our barangay) giving the homily. We also served merienda to the people afterwards - served direct from the trunk of a car. And on Friday June 18, the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I celebrated mass at the Cathedral as I began officially my first assignment as one of the assistants of Msgr. Gamboa. Most of the cash gifts I received during ordination I donated to St. Joseph Regional Seminary Library and the rest I spent to procure a computer to help me in my new assignment in Candle Light and to write my homilies which I still do every day. Those were the days then that I resolved to die without a bank book in my name, which later proved to be very impractical especially when I took modular studies in Liturgy in Malaybalay, Bukidnon and when I decided that moving around is my preferred means of relaxation. The idealism of those years were tremendous and most often I would look back in wonder how I managed through those years. As I said in my thanksgiving response during my ordination, “ . . . everything is grace. In my experience I have come to know where my feeble efforts end and where God’s grace begins.”
Now 17 years had passed. Three years and six months were spent in the Cathedral, 8 months in Pototan, 6 months in Malaybalay, 11 years at the St. Vincent Ferrer Seminary and almost 2 years again here in the Cathedral. Now I can even say with more conviction, everything is grace!
Getting in touch with the past is always refreshing and renewing. In this Year for Priest there is no better exercise than to recover the original spirit of the past, to learn from its mistakes, to be enlivened by its triumphs and to re-live those moments when everything was still new and the ministry was still full of ideals. Though this might sound like a personal diary to you rather than that of the parish, I hope I have given you a glimpse of the ideals which every young priest carries with him as he starts his ministry. Now, if you can only help us sustain these ideals, and for some us, to recover what is still left of its potential in the here and now. Thank you for praying for us in this Year for Priests.
June 14, 1993, the day before my ordination, I went to the Archbishop’s Residence to present myself to Msgr. Piamonte asking his permission if I could sleep at the Palacio so that we could go together in the morning for the ordination in Oton (my hometown). He said there was no room for me at the Palacio and that I should go to the Cathedral instead and look for a room there and that I should come back early the next day so that we could go together to Oton. I was about to leave then when, in the spirit of respect and hospitality, I asked him if he could go to our house in Oton that night for dinner – a pre-ordination dinner as was the tradition then at that time. He looked at me sternly and in a voice that was almost angry he reminded me that in the olden days the bishop who ordains and the person to be ordained fasted. I was disturbed. I wanted my ordination to be perfect reflecting my ideals on the priesthood and here I was at the start of the festivity of my lifetime berated for feasting when we should have been fasting. Indeed Murphy’s law was at work full swing – if anything can go wrong it will! I apologized profusely and I went out of the Palacio sullen and grave not knowing what to do with the feast that evening where I was expected. So that night I went about entertaining priests and friends careful that I would not touch even a morsel.
June 15, 1993, I was up early to pray and went to the Palacio at 7:00 still in a somber mood and really anxious as to what could still go wrong as the day unfolded. When I went up the Palacio I came upon Msgr. Piamonte who was heartily eating breakfast. He invited me to sit down and eat. Wanting to please him this time I said out of the blue, “Thank you monsignor but I am fasting.” He stopped while his spoon was at midflight to his mouth, looked at me for a second or two. Our eyes met and I thought I would melt on the spot. At that exact moment I realized the implication of what I just said. I was fasting but he was not, and he told me the night before that we both must fast. And he must have realized it too when he said “Ok, but I will do my fasting tonight.” So why should he be fasting when we should be already feasting? It dawned on me that I just got even with him unintentionally. I tried so hard to suppress a smile. And so there he was eating his breakfast while I sat there in front of him in silence, praying that my empty stomach (since the night before) would not grumble loud enough for him to hear.
At 8:00 we were off to Oton for the 8:30 ordination mass. He sat in the front seat of the cream-colored L-300 van while I sat far back. And in silence I composed my thanksgiving response to be delivered after the ordination mass. When we arrived another unforeseen incident happened. The church compound has 3 gates two of which the organizers closed for cars and only one was opened. They wanted to clear the church for the ordination and only priests can park inside the compound.
A few minutes before we arrived two cars bumped each other right there on the lone gate that was in use, and following protocol during mishaps such as this, they left the two cars where they were and called the police. That was the exact time we arrived and Msgr. Piamonte was raging mad when we could not enter the church because of the two cars blocking the gate. He said, “kami ang important character di, indi nyo kami pagpasudlon.” Anyway we went out of the car and proceeded to the grotto for the vesting which was actually a few meters from where we were. And the ordination mass started on time with Msgr. Claudio Sale as the Master of Ceremonies, the theology seminarians (most of whom eventually became priests) serving, the Oton Choir singing Misa Lanton by Maghari, common songs known by the people, conducted by a seminarian, now a priest, Fr. Doming Alimajen (he also composed the beautiful responsorial psalm sung during the ordination), with a church sparklingly cleaned by Fr. Tom Terania, and beautifully decorated by Michael Caling, which Andy Malan happily executed complete with a red carpet that reached the car port in front of the church. (In the parish, I explicitly prohibited them from turning my ordination into a circus complete with bands and programs to extol the priesthood. I decided then that that was not the kind of priesthood I wanted.) My vestments were made to order, compliments of my sister, in 5 liturgical colors with the textile designed and made by Tita Cecile Villanueva of Sinamay in the loom-wooven tradition of Iloilo, and tailored in the traditional gothic shape design by Edgar Jarantilla.
The most memorable thing that happened during the ordination however (which almost everyone still remembers) was when I lied prostrate on the floor for the Litany of the Saints. Lo and behold, my new shoes had on one of its soles the price tag still attached underneath for all to see. The official photographer, Allan Fajardo of Black Box, recorded that oversight into perpetuity.
I read my thanksgiving response which was introduced with a long quotation from the book of Psalms of which I still have the copy in my infamous almost illegible (even to me) handwriting. In that thanksgiving I never mentioned anybody except God, who was after all the source of all good things and all goodness in people. Then each was given a tree seedling to be planted (500 majogany seedlings and 300 fruit trees most of which were jackfruit saplings) each with a tag (printed for free by Tay Bert Kilayko of Sacred Heart Press then) which says “gintanum sa kadayawan sang Dios, ang ginagikanan sang tanan nga kaayohan – June 15, 1993.” Five years later a parishioner from Oton gave my mother the first fruit of the jackfruit that he planted on the day of my ordination. Another parishioner informed my mother 15 years later that he had the majogany made into chairs for his dining table.
My brother served lunch after ordination packed in tiny carton boxes distributed around the church compound, to be eaten anywhere they liked – there were no formal tables to eat from, no programs to watch and not even a grace before meals! My brother then was still a budding but overly ambitious wanna-be caterer who took strides that day feeding a thousand guests so that he could launch his catering business on my ordination day, which explains why to this day it is called Alejandro’s.
June 16, 1993, I celebrated my first mass (it was actually the second mass after the ordination mass of which I was already a concelebrant) in honor of Our Mother of Perpetual Help. On June 17, a Thursday, I celebrated my Thanksgiving Mass at our Barangay Chapel (San Nicolas, Oton, from where I learned my first catechesis) with Msgr. Nonoy Masculino (a real neighbor in our barangay) giving the homily. We also served merienda to the people afterwards - served direct from the trunk of a car. And on Friday June 18, the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I celebrated mass at the Cathedral as I began officially my first assignment as one of the assistants of Msgr. Gamboa. Most of the cash gifts I received during ordination I donated to St. Joseph Regional Seminary Library and the rest I spent to procure a computer to help me in my new assignment in Candle Light and to write my homilies which I still do every day. Those were the days then that I resolved to die without a bank book in my name, which later proved to be very impractical especially when I took modular studies in Liturgy in Malaybalay, Bukidnon and when I decided that moving around is my preferred means of relaxation. The idealism of those years were tremendous and most often I would look back in wonder how I managed through those years. As I said in my thanksgiving response during my ordination, “ . . . everything is grace. In my experience I have come to know where my feeble efforts end and where God’s grace begins.”
Now 17 years had passed. Three years and six months were spent in the Cathedral, 8 months in Pototan, 6 months in Malaybalay, 11 years at the St. Vincent Ferrer Seminary and almost 2 years again here in the Cathedral. Now I can even say with more conviction, everything is grace!
Getting in touch with the past is always refreshing and renewing. In this Year for Priest there is no better exercise than to recover the original spirit of the past, to learn from its mistakes, to be enlivened by its triumphs and to re-live those moments when everything was still new and the ministry was still full of ideals. Though this might sound like a personal diary to you rather than that of the parish, I hope I have given you a glimpse of the ideals which every young priest carries with him as he starts his ministry. Now, if you can only help us sustain these ideals, and for some us, to recover what is still left of its potential in the here and now. Thank you for praying for us in this Year for Priests.
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