Thursday, May 08, 2008
Rabbi means Teacher
copied from my yahooblog for the purpose of this workshop
Rabbi means Teacher…
This title used many times in the gospel did not really mean anything to me. I thought, just because He preaches in the synagogue, just like any scribe or Pharisee, the title Rabi would not be unusual to use in addressing Him.
While riding on a bus, with nothing to do [I have given up reading while in a bus a long time ago – the pleasure of reading doesn’t compensate the dizzying pain in my head after the ride] except my favorite past time, thinking, it flashed on my mind how a great teacher indeed is our Lord. To borrow a big word from Dr Koo’s class, He is a constructivist teacher (I just somehow understood the meaning of constructivism when Mrs Lago explained it to me while we were in her car from Dr Canoy’s class – three years after grad school, amazing!).
A teacher. He has a way of finding the best means to teach me that I would not miss – that I have to create or construct my own learning. He places me in a position where I could not really do anything but learn – on my own. First, he let me realize that real learning is far from dependence on others, no matter how “expert” they are. The downside though, is I have been disillusioned. Too disillusioned, in fact, that I have to reconstruct my own images of the people around me.
Second, he let me realize that the world is cruel and violent. That the Tagalog aphorism “kapit sa patalim” is not just a cute line from telenovelas. But most importantly, that the patalim is no one or nothing but He, Himself. This realization came as a gift. The gift of awareness. Here, awareness means the awareness that Fr Tony de Mello talks about, or was it henri nouwen? When I first read Fr de Mello’s writing on awareness – remember those cute little stories of was it Sahid (?) – that it is important to be aware, it was really greek. He even had suggestions how. By being aware. To siit down. Until when? Until you become aware. It was so so mind-boggling that I never really understand what he meant by being aware. In math parlance, it sounded very much like a circular definition, which is of course, unacceptable. There were many instances when what I read and what I learned in math were contradictory. Talk about oxymoron. But come to think of it, one of the most elegant proofs, is called by contradiction. What irony…
The gift of awareness. It is an extraordinary and amazing gift. So extraordinary that sometimes I think of returning the gift. Don’t mistake me, I have been praying and begging for this grace, although I must admit, it was not the term I used. Let me attempt to describe it. Awareness is a capacity to be aware [this is what I meant by circular definition, a definite no no in proofs]. It is almost like a hindsight that stays just at your shoulder ever ready to whisper what is happening around you, what you meant by what you actually said, how you feel at a particular moment, what you are actually doing at the very time you are doing what you are doing. It is not something that would predict the future. Even the immediate future, like in a matter of a few seconds. But it does give a little window of a few seconds before I do or say anything. Many times it helps me to step on the break in my tongue, but of course not all the time – especially when the velocity of my impulsiveness has already built up much momentum, the break would have to give way. So I consider awareness a gift because many times, it becomes the source of charity, wisdom and decency.
But it cuts both ways. Patalim nga. To use an old cliché, a two-edged sword. Because of awareness, I become more aware of committing a sin. As the Jesuits often taught us, it is a greater sin when done willfully. Hence, I feel that I have become a greater sinner.
Another grace, second to awareness in extraordinariness is disengagement. I really don’t know what to call it but the first word that came to mind at the time of realization was that – disengagement. Think of gears. In watch ads, usually at the back cover of Time or Newsweek [the flipside of the front page looks like being reserved by Rolex], I can’t remember the brand though, is a picture of a watch where gears inside are visible. Now, imagine the movement of those gears. Just tweak one and the rest moves in consortium. Disengagement would be like one gear dislodging itself from the entire operation and become a spectator.
I find this a very powerful image because disengagement would not only be confined to those little gears. I can see in my mind disengagement from an idea, a desire, a plan, a hobby, a habit, a person, a belief, an entire array of clutter in my knapsack of can’t-live-withouts. Again, this cuts both ways. Sometimes something crucial would be dismissed because the disengagement mode is not perfect. This is when awareness becomes closely entwined with disengagement.
Awareness and disengagement. They both come in combo. Awareness results in disengagement and disengagement can’t come without awareness – hmm… just my theory though, I can’t show a proof… yet.
All these I have learned in a classroom with no blackboard, no chair nor table. It is just a meeting place – a void, no walls, floors nor ceiling. But it is there we meet regularly, without really my being aware of it. Again, how ironic. I went there by accident at first. In my confusion, I just rambled without aim. Every night, at the same time, same place, I was there. Sometimes quiet, sometimes grumbling. Many times in Platonic dialogue – ala the Republic? Ugghh… whata…
Then I got the big surprise. Night of Holy Thursday. A different place, but very familiar. I was doing my promised daily walk. I noticed that it was actually the same place. The absence of supposed furniture was there. The atmosphere was really similar. And it hit me. In the gut. Very strong. Very powerful. He meet me every time! Every single time that I was there. And He was teaching me. Me, who has not evolved from being a student. Me, whose paradigm remains to be the confines of the classroom. He met me where I am. And everything seems to come into full circle. Awareness, disengagement, meeting place. Amazing!
Rabbi means Teacher…
This title used many times in the gospel did not really mean anything to me. I thought, just because He preaches in the synagogue, just like any scribe or Pharisee, the title Rabi would not be unusual to use in addressing Him.
While riding on a bus, with nothing to do [I have given up reading while in a bus a long time ago – the pleasure of reading doesn’t compensate the dizzying pain in my head after the ride] except my favorite past time, thinking, it flashed on my mind how a great teacher indeed is our Lord. To borrow a big word from Dr Koo’s class, He is a constructivist teacher (I just somehow understood the meaning of constructivism when Mrs Lago explained it to me while we were in her car from Dr Canoy’s class – three years after grad school, amazing!).
A teacher. He has a way of finding the best means to teach me that I would not miss – that I have to create or construct my own learning. He places me in a position where I could not really do anything but learn – on my own. First, he let me realize that real learning is far from dependence on others, no matter how “expert” they are. The downside though, is I have been disillusioned. Too disillusioned, in fact, that I have to reconstruct my own images of the people around me.
Second, he let me realize that the world is cruel and violent. That the Tagalog aphorism “kapit sa patalim” is not just a cute line from telenovelas. But most importantly, that the patalim is no one or nothing but He, Himself. This realization came as a gift. The gift of awareness. Here, awareness means the awareness that Fr Tony de Mello talks about, or was it henri nouwen? When I first read Fr de Mello’s writing on awareness – remember those cute little stories of was it Sahid (?) – that it is important to be aware, it was really greek. He even had suggestions how. By being aware. To siit down. Until when? Until you become aware. It was so so mind-boggling that I never really understand what he meant by being aware. In math parlance, it sounded very much like a circular definition, which is of course, unacceptable. There were many instances when what I read and what I learned in math were contradictory. Talk about oxymoron. But come to think of it, one of the most elegant proofs, is called by contradiction. What irony…
The gift of awareness. It is an extraordinary and amazing gift. So extraordinary that sometimes I think of returning the gift. Don’t mistake me, I have been praying and begging for this grace, although I must admit, it was not the term I used. Let me attempt to describe it. Awareness is a capacity to be aware [this is what I meant by circular definition, a definite no no in proofs]. It is almost like a hindsight that stays just at your shoulder ever ready to whisper what is happening around you, what you meant by what you actually said, how you feel at a particular moment, what you are actually doing at the very time you are doing what you are doing. It is not something that would predict the future. Even the immediate future, like in a matter of a few seconds. But it does give a little window of a few seconds before I do or say anything. Many times it helps me to step on the break in my tongue, but of course not all the time – especially when the velocity of my impulsiveness has already built up much momentum, the break would have to give way. So I consider awareness a gift because many times, it becomes the source of charity, wisdom and decency.
But it cuts both ways. Patalim nga. To use an old cliché, a two-edged sword. Because of awareness, I become more aware of committing a sin. As the Jesuits often taught us, it is a greater sin when done willfully. Hence, I feel that I have become a greater sinner.
Another grace, second to awareness in extraordinariness is disengagement. I really don’t know what to call it but the first word that came to mind at the time of realization was that – disengagement. Think of gears. In watch ads, usually at the back cover of Time or Newsweek [the flipside of the front page looks like being reserved by Rolex], I can’t remember the brand though, is a picture of a watch where gears inside are visible. Now, imagine the movement of those gears. Just tweak one and the rest moves in consortium. Disengagement would be like one gear dislodging itself from the entire operation and become a spectator.
I find this a very powerful image because disengagement would not only be confined to those little gears. I can see in my mind disengagement from an idea, a desire, a plan, a hobby, a habit, a person, a belief, an entire array of clutter in my knapsack of can’t-live-withouts. Again, this cuts both ways. Sometimes something crucial would be dismissed because the disengagement mode is not perfect. This is when awareness becomes closely entwined with disengagement.
Awareness and disengagement. They both come in combo. Awareness results in disengagement and disengagement can’t come without awareness – hmm… just my theory though, I can’t show a proof… yet.
All these I have learned in a classroom with no blackboard, no chair nor table. It is just a meeting place – a void, no walls, floors nor ceiling. But it is there we meet regularly, without really my being aware of it. Again, how ironic. I went there by accident at first. In my confusion, I just rambled without aim. Every night, at the same time, same place, I was there. Sometimes quiet, sometimes grumbling. Many times in Platonic dialogue – ala the Republic? Ugghh… whata…
Then I got the big surprise. Night of Holy Thursday. A different place, but very familiar. I was doing my promised daily walk. I noticed that it was actually the same place. The absence of supposed furniture was there. The atmosphere was really similar. And it hit me. In the gut. Very strong. Very powerful. He meet me every time! Every single time that I was there. And He was teaching me. Me, who has not evolved from being a student. Me, whose paradigm remains to be the confines of the classroom. He met me where I am. And everything seems to come into full circle. Awareness, disengagement, meeting place. Amazing!
Monday, January 21, 2008
religion
Reflection on Religion
April 2004 Retreat
Tagaytay
(encoded and edited, October 26, 2004, Ignatian Retreat)
Religion as I understand it is a system of beliefs of a person in something beyond the human sphere and ultimately in God. By system of beliefs I mean the reasons – which ma include a sense of security – feeling of. Why I can say that I believe in such a God. In short I understand why I have such a a belief. This sounds so cold and detached. This cant be expected to occur in a child’s mind. But in my case, though I may not have these words then, I could say that this is what happened. I remember some of the sermons I heard; the literature that I read – they all gave reasons – logical, historically based, research-based [and so I thought at that time, given my limited resources, influences, world]– why I should believe what “they” were saying. It seems that for every activity that we did there is always a corresponding reason why it has to be done – and there is always something in the bible that they can quote. But now I can say that it was bound to collapse given the nature of things.
The very first idea that allowed me to take a stand and examined my set of beliefs from a distance is the idea of exclusivity. I have heard and read from school, Jesuits, and even our pastors before that God is love. He exemplifies what love is. It is His nature. It is Him. And so I could not conceive a God who is love to allow people – human beings whom He purportedly love – to suffer in hell for the single reason that they were unfortunate enough not to be members of a certain religion. It was not explicitly stated that only us will be saved but that has become a forgone conclusion if we will follow the logic of everything that I’ve heard from them.
And so it dawned me on me that I may belong to other religion, still God would love me. This thought prompted me to ask permission from my mom be become a Moslem. My reason was, aside from Islam sounding glamorous to me - I thought that God really would not mind what my religion is as long as I believe in Him. But my mom – ever practical and sensible – douse cold water to my burning hot enthusiasm to get away from my very constraining religion by telling me that the Moslems don’t believe in Jesus Christ. This gave me pause. And so I conceded in my thoughts that indeed I cant conceive myself not to believe in Christ. And so I stayed put – meaning I did not practice any religion. But I still prayed – in the manner taught to me as a child, praising God, asking forgiveness, petition.
[What is the reason for this so unexpected twist? In hindsight, or be truly hones about it, even at the time, though I could not bring myself to acknowledge it because of shame or from fear to be “ridiculed”. And so it just hovered at the periphery of my consciousness. Why the fear? Because first of all I can never be a Roman Catholic, which could be a choice because of its being the “common religion”. Why the never? So absolute? Because since childhood, I was brought up with the idea that roman Catholicism is a religion of the “pagans”. It is the most “wrong” religion, if even such a religion exists. The people around me (neighbors, etc) did not also help quash that idea. What with all their pictures of saints and their practices of kissing statues and everything which for me looked and sounded very much like superstition. And superstition for me is one of the gravest, if not the gravest sin. One reason is that it is the first commandment which I had memorized as a child. And second is that in our family, we were explicitly taught not to believe in aswangs and other related ideas/concepts, etc. The reason for this is maybe because my great-grandfather was known to be a balbal, so I think my mother wants to protect us from the agony of having to contend with neighbors teasing us with it. And so what better way to counter that than by having a strong conviction that it is not true. And so it was very much ingrained in my young mind (as young as 5 or 6 years old) not to believe in those things. My youth, my ignorance, my limited exposure also did not help, either. What about other “Christian” denominations? Well, at that time, nothing could fit the bill of what I was searching for. In my mind – which at that time was so idealistic and absolutist – what could they ever have which is better than the religion which I grew up with. Although, of course, their group is my most logical choice because, more or less, they are similar to my previous one. And so as a result I did not have any religion in a sense that is commonly understood.]
Then came my conversion in the mountains. I was suffocating with lack of oxygen, and so I thought I was dying. I promised to God that I would go to church if ever He would still let me live. It was a solemn promise because it was done in a circumstance where I thought was a matter of life and death. And so I have to fulfill that promise. If I won’t then it would no longer be me – I no longer conform to my set of beliefs – hence I no longer have a religion of sorts. This is for me equivalent to death. But for the life of me, I cant bring myself to go back to my old religion – there were too much constraints. I simply could not stomach it anymore. I have lived practically all my childhood being different and feelings of so much guilt for such and such transgressions and sins. I was already fed up and suffocated by all the restrictions. I needed to breath fresh air.
And so I went to a born again congregation. I like what I saw or more accurately I like what I heard – meaning their worship with songs. It was the best! The melody, I drown myself into. But then I have to listen to the sermon. The pastor was impressive, alright – as a preacher, grammatical errors and all. He seemed inspired, yes. But there was a niggling feeling in me that he was too slick – too smart-alecky, too smooth. He seemed to know everything. (But in fairness to him, I might have been downed by my ego because I now that he was a college drop-out. But still there really seemed to be something wrong with him. And so I stopped going back there.
But the dryness, the thirst to belong to a church has almost reached the level of undeniability – a matter of survival, plus the promise I made in the mountains. Other events unfold – I became fascinated, magnetized byte idea of becoming a religious. I seemed to be drawn towards it no matter how I tried to move away from it. Always, persons I am attracted were made instruments – teachers, friends. And so it came to a point when I relented. I went with the flow but still with the conviction that there is no way I become religious because I was not qualified. I was not and could not become a Roman Catholic – a basic requirement.
April 2004 Retreat
Tagaytay
(encoded and edited, October 26, 2004, Ignatian Retreat)
Religion as I understand it is a system of beliefs of a person in something beyond the human sphere and ultimately in God. By system of beliefs I mean the reasons – which ma include a sense of security – feeling of. Why I can say that I believe in such a God. In short I understand why I have such a a belief. This sounds so cold and detached. This cant be expected to occur in a child’s mind. But in my case, though I may not have these words then, I could say that this is what happened. I remember some of the sermons I heard; the literature that I read – they all gave reasons – logical, historically based, research-based [and so I thought at that time, given my limited resources, influences, world]– why I should believe what “they” were saying. It seems that for every activity that we did there is always a corresponding reason why it has to be done – and there is always something in the bible that they can quote. But now I can say that it was bound to collapse given the nature of things.
The very first idea that allowed me to take a stand and examined my set of beliefs from a distance is the idea of exclusivity. I have heard and read from school, Jesuits, and even our pastors before that God is love. He exemplifies what love is. It is His nature. It is Him. And so I could not conceive a God who is love to allow people – human beings whom He purportedly love – to suffer in hell for the single reason that they were unfortunate enough not to be members of a certain religion. It was not explicitly stated that only us will be saved but that has become a forgone conclusion if we will follow the logic of everything that I’ve heard from them.
And so it dawned me on me that I may belong to other religion, still God would love me. This thought prompted me to ask permission from my mom be become a Moslem. My reason was, aside from Islam sounding glamorous to me - I thought that God really would not mind what my religion is as long as I believe in Him. But my mom – ever practical and sensible – douse cold water to my burning hot enthusiasm to get away from my very constraining religion by telling me that the Moslems don’t believe in Jesus Christ. This gave me pause. And so I conceded in my thoughts that indeed I cant conceive myself not to believe in Christ. And so I stayed put – meaning I did not practice any religion. But I still prayed – in the manner taught to me as a child, praising God, asking forgiveness, petition.
[What is the reason for this so unexpected twist? In hindsight, or be truly hones about it, even at the time, though I could not bring myself to acknowledge it because of shame or from fear to be “ridiculed”. And so it just hovered at the periphery of my consciousness. Why the fear? Because first of all I can never be a Roman Catholic, which could be a choice because of its being the “common religion”. Why the never? So absolute? Because since childhood, I was brought up with the idea that roman Catholicism is a religion of the “pagans”. It is the most “wrong” religion, if even such a religion exists. The people around me (neighbors, etc) did not also help quash that idea. What with all their pictures of saints and their practices of kissing statues and everything which for me looked and sounded very much like superstition. And superstition for me is one of the gravest, if not the gravest sin. One reason is that it is the first commandment which I had memorized as a child. And second is that in our family, we were explicitly taught not to believe in aswangs and other related ideas/concepts, etc. The reason for this is maybe because my great-grandfather was known to be a balbal, so I think my mother wants to protect us from the agony of having to contend with neighbors teasing us with it. And so what better way to counter that than by having a strong conviction that it is not true. And so it was very much ingrained in my young mind (as young as 5 or 6 years old) not to believe in those things. My youth, my ignorance, my limited exposure also did not help, either. What about other “Christian” denominations? Well, at that time, nothing could fit the bill of what I was searching for. In my mind – which at that time was so idealistic and absolutist – what could they ever have which is better than the religion which I grew up with. Although, of course, their group is my most logical choice because, more or less, they are similar to my previous one. And so as a result I did not have any religion in a sense that is commonly understood.]
Then came my conversion in the mountains. I was suffocating with lack of oxygen, and so I thought I was dying. I promised to God that I would go to church if ever He would still let me live. It was a solemn promise because it was done in a circumstance where I thought was a matter of life and death. And so I have to fulfill that promise. If I won’t then it would no longer be me – I no longer conform to my set of beliefs – hence I no longer have a religion of sorts. This is for me equivalent to death. But for the life of me, I cant bring myself to go back to my old religion – there were too much constraints. I simply could not stomach it anymore. I have lived practically all my childhood being different and feelings of so much guilt for such and such transgressions and sins. I was already fed up and suffocated by all the restrictions. I needed to breath fresh air.
And so I went to a born again congregation. I like what I saw or more accurately I like what I heard – meaning their worship with songs. It was the best! The melody, I drown myself into. But then I have to listen to the sermon. The pastor was impressive, alright – as a preacher, grammatical errors and all. He seemed inspired, yes. But there was a niggling feeling in me that he was too slick – too smart-alecky, too smooth. He seemed to know everything. (But in fairness to him, I might have been downed by my ego because I now that he was a college drop-out. But still there really seemed to be something wrong with him. And so I stopped going back there.
But the dryness, the thirst to belong to a church has almost reached the level of undeniability – a matter of survival, plus the promise I made in the mountains. Other events unfold – I became fascinated, magnetized byte idea of becoming a religious. I seemed to be drawn towards it no matter how I tried to move away from it. Always, persons I am attracted were made instruments – teachers, friends. And so it came to a point when I relented. I went with the flow but still with the conviction that there is no way I become religious because I was not qualified. I was not and could not become a Roman Catholic – a basic requirement.
[bracketed some texts for the purpose of this workshop]
So even if I told my friend that my previous religion was a religion of reason (pure logic, understandable – at least at that time) while the Catholic faith is a religion of the heart – full of emotion, unstable – I’ll stick it out. (Now, I have a different idea. Thank you, Lord for Fr Dan).
By belief is more or less summed up by Kant’s philosophy. Material things are in a world of its own. All activities are explainable by math and physics. But there exist another world separate form the material which is conceivable by material mind. That is where God belongs. It can’t be explained. So far nobody has explained it exhaustively. The only way I can believe in it is through faith. And I can say that faith is what I have, however little it may be. My finite mind cant grasp nor contain the infinite God. Finite sets can’t contain infinite sets – that’s trivial! So I don’t have to worry that there is no reason to what I sometimes do. I do listen to explanation but they don’t seem satisfactory to me. But who am I? what I don’t doubt is that god exist and that He loves me.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
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