For the honor and privilege -
my deepest appreciation for and thanks to my most distinguished friend,
- Peter Julian/Guerrero Coloma - and to the most prestigious NORTHBOUND PHILIPPINES News Online!
One Day in the Life of a Filipina in Gethsemane
“How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?”― Robert Frost
TEL- AVIV, Israel — Up north in my
Amianan rugged nation, in a very inconspicuous part of this world, I
used to wonder how my tomorrow would be – just like any young girl then
would. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined going out of my
town, out of my country – and into the world to find at one end of it
something that occurred to me after a lot of things have had happened.
The author with the Sea of Galilee in the background
So I grew up, got an education, got a
job, got a husband and a family and thus, a life. The works! And I
thought that was it! Even as I’d remember how in those young years, I
would sit by the river bank which was not far from our old family home. I
would quietly watch the water gently flow by me as I tried to figure
out just where it was all coming from and where it was all going to. I
had no answers then so I just pocketed those thoughts and went on.
Notwithstanding putting up with my share
of disappointments, of difficulties, of desperate moments, I did have
my share of some joys. I reveled in academic fulfillment, in work
achievement; I relished family accomplishment. I savored the love around
me that came in all shades. And then I got blest with the God- given
chance for travel – to fly, to float, to roam the lands out of my north
and out of my country.
Oh yes, I began to think that one was
not meant to live in just one place. Travel and the chance to live in
different places were so enriching. Nuances like elephant- rides up in
Thailand and kangaroo-races down under in Australia; the tri- ethnic
celebrations in Malaysia, the castles and old churches of Europe, the
skyscrapers and the snow of America – these were some novelties that
began to creep into my life. But, of course, added to these mind openers
to blow away my naiveté were aspects of money, of language, of
religion,
of educational and governmental systems. My mind comparatively soaked
up the diversity I saw in socio-economic and cultural constructs all
around me. And my world ostensively grew wide, but kinda small, if we
speak of the global village. Until I got the chance to visit the Holy
Land. Israel, the Holy Land.
– DR. SONJA ALBANO CHAN/ northboundasia.com (to be continued)
ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF A FILIPINA IN GETHSEMANE (CONCLUSION)
At that point, I was ready to thrill to another foreign land – one more
chance to be out of my north and out of my country. So I did embark on
the trip. It was a promise to walk the steps of Jesus Christ and I
nonchalantly said to my mind, okay! Well, there was this two-pronged
bonus to the Israel package deal, the first being the fabled Lost City
of Petra in Jordan where one comes face to face with rose-colored
monumental buildings artfully carved out of sheer rock! I experienced
not only the Indiana Jones film right in here but also the realization
that this amazing city had been borne out of bare hands actually in a
non-technical age, so to speak. The other bonus came in terms of the
Pyramids of Giza in Egypt. Like Petra’s buildings, these gigantic tombs
of Pharoahs were a testament to human labor as well as ingenuity-
perhaps with some camel and donkey help, but again at a time so moved
away from our present. One does get to be left speechless at such
spectacular world wonders. But well, it was just another travel episode
to me!
Israel, the Holy Land, however, came as a
distinct experience. It is said that this land located at the end east
of the Mediterranean is a land and birth of many faiths – of Judaism,
Christianity and Islam, as it is also a land of unrest – of war, blood,
and misery, (and I am reminded of my own homeland and the troublous
south), but it has played a great role in human history. Here lies the
ruins of the world’s most ancient civilization beckoning humanity to
come visit up to this day. To the Christians, especially, the history
of Israel is bound with their faith as it is in this land where Jesus
lived and died. Biblical events unfold here like the stories of Abraham,
Jacob, Moses, Elijah and many others, but of course, central are those
of Jesus himself.
From north to south, from sea to sea,
from mountain to mountain, and from church to church, I followed His
steps. The path was basically from the Annunciation in Nazareth to the
Crucifixion in Golgotha. In between these two celebrated remembrances
were the stories of Christ’s life mostly captured in time through
Basilicas and Churches built on the places where the events happened. I
had the benefit of being at the spot of His Nativity in Bethlehem; – at
the well in Nazareth where as a boy, with Mary, he was said to have
drawn water and, of course, – at the house of his parents where he
worked with Joseph, his foster father; and – in Capharnaum, where after
Nazareth, he lived as an adult, and particularly at the Synagogue
where he taught. I had the chance to be in Cana where He changed water
to wine; in Jordan where He was baptized; at the Mount of Beatitudes
where He gave His well-known sermon. I had the privilege to be in Tabgha
where he multiplied two fish and five loaves of bread to feed five
thousand people;- in Galilee where He walked on the water towards Peter;
– in Jericho overlooking the Mountain where He was tempted by the
devil. I found myself on Mount Tabor where his disciples witnessed his
Transfiguration; – on Mount Zion where He had His Last Supper with His
Apostles ; and – on the Mount of Olives where He had ascended to
heaven. Now, earlier I said this was going to be another of those
trips. Why, then, l started to think, were these Holy Land places giving
me a feeling I found hard to explain. Just being there was simply being
effectual to me like everywhere I’ve been to was now water down the
drain.
At the Via Dolorosa which we followed,
my mind would now even be less Appreciative of the interests my
environment offered–much less be aware of it.
Of the 14 Stations of the Cross, two
were located within the site of the Antonia Fortress, the site where
Jesus was led from the house of the High Priest Caiphas to be mocked
and scourged and condemned to death. The next seven were located in the
streets of Jerusalem, and the last five in the Church of the Holy
Sepulcher which stands on Golgotha where Christ was crucified and was
buried. The strange feeling I couldn’t understand continued and was fast
getting into me.
It was at Gethsemane , however, where I
felt the impact of the entire Holy Land trip. I stood there momentarily
among the Olive Trees at the Garden as I imagined Jesus prostrate in
prayer, taking upon Himself all the sins of the world. But I had to
get in the church already. And as I entered, a soft, palpable darkness
kind of arrested me – a condition probably brought about by the light
filtered through the purple-tinted windows, making a lovely atmosphere
for prayer and meditation. So I knelt there. And as I raised my eyes
to the altar painting of Jesus in agony, I clearly saw the tremendous
pain on His gentle face. I saw how humbly He was offering His bitter cup
to the Father, even as He asked to be spared His up-and-coming
suffering and death. Then strangely did the next moment whip a cold
blast to my face! I felt myself a wretched creation of God.
My mind traveled to the things I
relished – the joys of comfort and well-being, my friends and loved
ones, a taste of knowing different cultures and lifestyles- maybe even a
sense of belonging to some of these. My life was perfect, right? But
seeing my Lord prostrate in prayer struck me as being a part of His
bitter cup. Whatever perfections I thought my life was made up of, they
couldn’t erase the fact that I was a sinner like everybody else It
brought home to me the reality that while Christ’s cup was full, mine
was actually empty. His was full of His love for humanity, mine was
empty because if there was love at all, it was only love for myself and
for all it was worth, it was nothing. And unabashedly, my tears began
to flow and it went on like a river. A river? Wait now, I told myself.
The river goes on forever, or so the poem goes. If Christ’s bitter cup
represented suffering and death, inextricably connected to these was
resurrection– of life after death! Suddenly it dawned on me that if I
wondered where my river was going, that was where – into a hopeful
aftermath. And my despair transitioned into a sunrise of resolve.
If I had lived in nothing but a material
world, a path into a complementing spirituality had just been lighted
up for me to follow. Gethsemane had just spelled out for me the essence
of true Christianity. As the saying goes, “Man doesn’t live on bread
alone!”
And as Robert Frost asks, “How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?”
–DR. SONJA ALBANO CHAN, ST. LOUIS UNIVERSITY, BAGUIO CITY, PHILIPPINES / northboundasia.com
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