“I believe that my priesthood is not my dream alone; it is God’s dream first of all. It is also your dream, you who share life with me. Come, let us live it together.” I will never forget those jumbled words; I had them printed at the back of my souvenir holy card on the day of my ordination to the priesthood. That was December 8, 1980. Twenty-five years ago!Little did I realize the truth behind those words.
The life of a priest is not something that fits and follows predictable patterns. It is not something you build step by step along the way. It simply happens, and happens daily. Funny, everybody seems to be entitled to their expectations about their priests. You can even say that a priest’s life is canned into clear “shoulds” and definite “dos”, with the rules laid out openly on the table. I thought so.
After you have let down lots of expectations, after the runner has stumbled lots of times, and the hero fallen in battle, when the myth rings like a big break-down, a priest is still a priest. When he has broken all the shoulds and denied all the dos, a priest is still a priest. When the chosen one looks at himself like a vanquished combatant, or an unfaithful disciple, or an unsuitable lover, or a false shepherd, and more—tags that everyone easily label their priests with anyway, and he decides to throw in the towel, the priest is still a priest. When a priest gives up his priesthood, he is still a priest. Priesthood will never be about giving up; it is the eloquent language of God’s love who will never give up on his beloved.
Frankly, I do not know how to put it into words; the life of a priest simply happens. That does not mean that a priest leaves everything to chance; rather it is the daily living experience of mystery. You know that there is a reason somewhere, a pattern unfolding somehow; you keep your fingers crossed and your heart anchored, and believe. And you say “yes” to both light and darkness.
This is my prayer today: “Lord, I do not ask that I may understand. Just help to never run dry of my ‘yes’. Make me celebrate that with laughter; lead me to contemplate it with tears. Please, continue to dream for me, with me, in me.”
People tell me that as a priest, I am singularly blest. Sincerely, I am at a loss accepting that. Maybe, I am one of those priests luckier that other priest even. I always have a little extra that could be shared with others; I have lots of friends who stand by me to pick up the slack when I am down and out. I also made enemies who remind me of my excesses and misfires. But all of these come and go. There is still the dream to contend with.
And the dream does not come neatly packed, with all the software provided and the user’s manual clearly worded out. I thought that with some generosity, I could manage the difficult packaging; I presumed that given enough time, I will pick up the softwares of priestly life and mission. I was confident that I will ably unlock the Chinglish instructions. I thought so.
When my heart has settled on a particular mission task, I was pulled out. When I learned to suit into the community, I was transferred out. When I cemented some friendships, I was moved out. There was a time when I stood pat and strong; I was mowed down and out. Then, I licked my wounds in silence and loneliness; the lights went out.
But no worry. I am pretty sure that there is no bitterness in here. That was a choice I made. I did not want to miss out on the Cokes and Choc-nuts.
And so, my prayer for today is a gracious “thank you, Lord. Thank you for the dream; it was both rich and enriching. Thank you for the moments of utter loneliness; you have prepared me for them since my birth. Thank you when the lights went dim and out; you brought me to other sights and colors. Thank you for the duties you entrusted to me; they brought out the better side of me. Thank you for the friends who always complain of my lack of concern and caring, for not answering their texts messages; they taught me to love myself. Thank you for the enemies I have made; they made me de-focus on my insistent self, and believe the dream, plus the Dreamer.”
It is easy to say that priesthood is indeed God’s dream. But it takes twenty-five years to realize that it can never be so, unless the priest gives God the permission and the blank check to make his dreams come true with his life. How easy it is for the priest to grab the limelight. And people are partly to be blamed for putting their priests on pedestals, and as easily tearing them down.
But the dream finds its flesh precisely in moments like these? He is an incarnated God; his is a love that can be experienced only in flesh and blood. My priesthood is not my dream alone, nor God’s dream purely; it is God’s dream lived with others. And without the community, there is no dream, no reason to dream. Priesthood and Church do not exist independently; they were never meant to be. “My priesthood is also your dream, you who share life with me.” Or is it that God’s dream with his priest is not merely about the priest himself, but His dream for the Church?
Then call me a dreamer.
I have a dream. I have a priestly dream. I dream for the Church. This dream was sown during those moments when God through his Church has forgiven me time and again of my follies and infidelities. Without this assurance of a forgiving God, I wonder how I could have managed. Again, this dream found its heart when people I hurt cried for me, and forgave me. There is no way to build friendships and communities better than forgiving one another. Then too, this dream gave voice to humble self-giving every time the priest shared the Lord’s forgiveness to those who are lost and broken. You sleep secure that the gift is with you when you share it with others too.
This, then, is my dream for the Church: that we may all together become a forgiving Church. I believe that this is the most eloquent expression of Christian love, our undeniable witnessing to a world struggling with big hurts, so big and festering that it took a God to restore us all to friendship.
I dream of a Church where forgiving is a gift readily shared with one another. I dream of a Church who forgives homecoming philandering fathers, and mothers who aborted their babies, young people mired in crime, and lovers hot with sexual excesses. I dream of a Church not afraid to offer forgiveness as a valid alternative to political squabbles and unrelenting competition. I dream of a Church who welcomes differences in faith, and accepts the vagaries of changing situations. Finally, I dream of a Church who can throw her arms open wide and embrace back her fallen priests. And without this last one, my dream remains a whiff of fantasy; I failed.
And God has a way of affirming his dream.
On my twenty-fifth year as a priest he brought me to Rome, the Holy City. There I visited the tomb of John Paul II, the Pope of my twenty-five years of priesthood. He was the Pope I welcomed during the World Youth Day in Manila in 1995. I share in the same priesthood of Christ as this great man, albeit in my own insignificant way. Visiting his tomb enkindled in me once again the realization that I am a priest not for myself, but for the Church.
I stayed at the Sacro Cuore Basilica, the church Don Bosco build at the request of the Pope. In the room where our holy Founder stayed, I had the opportunity to celebrate the Holy Eucharist with brother Salesians from all over the globe. I knew in my heart then that God was affirming my Salesian vocation. I am on the right track, despite all my foibles. He has shown me that he still counts on me. He has provided a particular mission for me in the Society: social communications. I knew that if I were to be born again, a Salesian I shall be again. No doubt about it.
And I visited my “home church” in Rome, the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. It is there that I poured out my heart to her during an earlier sojourn; it is there that I availed of God’s mercy and forgiveness when I was there. It is also there that I consecrated my priesthood to her, as I did on the eve of my ordination. It is there I sought peace for my troubled soul. I knew I was home. I am loved.
It was not my plan. Everything just fell into place. I thought I was there for a meeting, to fulfill a task. Visiting these churches was like a closure for me, a pilgrimage not simply to a place of worship, but a spiritual journey to the core of my priesthood. I knew in my heart that the past twenty-five years—a crazy quilt of proud moments and downright disappointments—was worth it. In his own mysterious heart, everything was part of an unfolding design, a story being written, a dream that is meant to happen.
So if it were a dream I am living, I only have to listen. Dreams are not purposely made; they appear in their own ways, their own language, their own message. Let God keep on dreaming. Let me readily listen.
And dreams talk of something real. My priesthood is to make his dreams for his Church come true. On the eve of my ordination, he told me a powerful message: “you do make yourself a priest; it is I who make you a priest.” I hope and pray that I will be a willing and adequate tool in his hands to build his dream.
Come, then, let us live this priesthood together!
Armand, sdb, priest
08 december 2005
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