Of Hope and of the Holy Pope

The larger-than-life experience of seeing with my two naked eyes Pope John Paul II during his second visit to Manila for the World Youth Day in January 1995 lingered in my memory. It was a momentous opportunity for me since I was raised as a Catholic and was educated in a Jesuit high school. I watched in awe while the pope mobile surrounded by the military and police officers passed through the swarm of faithfuls cheering “Viva Santo Papa!” as the grand marshal of the country’s religious leaders and political dignitaries welcome the pope at the stage of Luneta Park where the culminating papal mass was celebrated. I was praying in my thoughts knowing that I may never have the chance to see a pope in my lifetime again.

Now that I live in New York, more than ten years later after that papal visit in the Philippines, His Most Holy Father Benedict XVI, the 265th pontiff and the successor after Pope John Paul II’s death in 2005, scheduled a six-day pilgrimage to the US. At the moment he disembarked on the American soil, the headlines underscored the issue of sexual abuse scandal in the church, which Pope Benedict XVI addressed with gracious and humble conviction. He turned eighty-one on the second day of his visit, the 16th of April. His call for action from head of states in his substantive speech before the UN General Assembly reflected a discourse from a great scholar swathed in the highest form of Christian virtues. With a view of the uncertainties in the whole world today, I personally believe that this is one of the most important papal journey of the times.

In anticipation of the weekend, I followed the Pope’s itinerary while in New York City. My only chance to have a glance of him in person would be to wait in the sidelines along Fifth Avenue at 1:45 p.m. on Saturday for the open-to-the-public pope mobile procession – no ticket or pass is required. Too bad, my weekend biological alarm clock didn’t work so well that I ended missing the parade.

Today’s historic “Mass of Hope” celebrated by Pope Benedict XVI at the Yankee Stadium was one of the highlights of his New York route after he visited Ground Zero and offered a solemn prayer for the families and victims of 911. Only ticket-holders who were picked in a raffle in different parishes all over the country could get in the stadium. As expected, I ended up tuning-in to the live coverage of the papal mass on television just like on a Super Bowl Sunday. Of course, both coverages are entirely different since the latter’s euphoric “spiritual” experience is attributed to pints of beer or the halftime show and costume malfunction.

During the pre-liturgical show, I was already feeling so blessed and grateful of all the opportunities that life has given me while the Irish double amputee, who is a medical doctor and a tenor, Ronan Tynan belted “God Bless America!” I drowned in my thoughts as I saw flashes of the pope mobile enter the stadium and the crowd cheered “Pope Benedict!” and I fell asleep.

In my sleep I dreamed I was having a conversation with a very good friend, Christopher Rayala. We shared the same undergraduate program in the University of the Philippines and he is now practicing family medicine in Tennessee. Chris always reminds me of God’s greatness in simple deeds of friends. I usually don’t remember my dreams but the “scene” was so vivid that I remembered him in his genuinely polite voice as he assured me that I am God’s favorite. I was very astonished and I responded to him saying, “Indeed, God is so good to me. I know He has always been there for me unconditionally in everything I’ve been through”. Subsequently, random images after images flashed in the speed of light right in front of me. I was awakened by the loud voice of the newscasters that were enthusiastically wrapping up the TV coverage and I realized that I missed the entirety of the holy mass.

Tonight, I reflected: Allow me to use the metaphors and analogues of being a seed or grain of rice. I am just one of the countless grains in the rice field – nothing special. One day, I fell on a fertile soil with right water and nutrients and developed into a sprout, continued to grow with the right sunlight and endured all ecological predators and disasters and lived through the seasons. Come harvest time, I joined all other grains to the rice mill where everyone gets to be dehusked and polished. Some get fortified. Altogether, the grains are classified and weighed before distribution in the market – our destination… our fate. Some grains are consumed right away. Some are exported in exchange of some imported. Some land on the hands of shrewd businessmen with the blessings of politicians. Some reach The Gates’ household so a Jeffrey Sachs is needed to map a fair re-distribution of global wealth. Some never find it’s way to a dying mouth. In yesterday’s youth rally, some get to be offered as gift to Pope Benedict XVI to represent Asia and Africa. Very symbolic indeed! Yes, it may take a pope to bless the staple grain to rid it from opportunists and hoarders that are causing the present “rice crisis”. It is not all about the laws of supply and demand. It is also about conscience. According to the holy gospel (Mark 8:36), “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” In the eyes of God, every grain is special in the cycle of life. Miracle comes with the responsibility to nourish oneself – both physically and spiritually.

Today, Pope Benedict XVI concluded his US visit with a vision of unity and affirmative action in the grace of hope. I am just glad he came.

May the Lord bless us all!

(This was written a day before it was published.)