Dec. 7, 2003
Alumni Sunday Mass 10:30 am
Reading I Reading II Gospel
Phil 1:4-6, 8-11 Bar 5:1-9 Lk 3:1-6
I find it interesting that we call an alumni reunion like this a
"homecoming". It presumes, I suppose, that Ateneo was a home to us, at
least during the years that we spent as students in this campus. Was it,
really? What are we supposed to understand by "home," in the first place?
What does it take to make a "home"?
There is a song by Burt Bacharach, which many of you would probably still
remember, that deals precisely with these questions.
A chair is still a chair, even when there's no one sitting there.
But a chair is not a house, and a house is not a home
When there's no one there to hold you tight
And no one there you can kiss goodnight.
Was there anyone at all in Ateneo who held you tight, or anyone who kissed
you goodnight? Well, I remember Fr. Roque Ferriols, SJ held my mind really
tight, but my rector at San Jose did not kiss me goodnight. Thank God!
Homecoming is what the first reading from the prophet Baruch speaks about.
It tells of a people that is exiled in a foreign land called Babylon, and
whose only dream is to return to their homeland. Unfortunately, between
Babylon and Israel is an enormous expanse of wilderness, the Arabian
desert. But what the heck, says Isaiah the prophet, who is quoted by Luke
in today's Gospel, "A voice is crying out in the desert! God will build a
C-5 that will traverse the desert, to make it possible for his people to
come home!" (I hope you forgive me for the paraphrasing.)
Feeling like a stranger in a foreign land is probably the best way to
describe what home is not. Bacharach's song goes on to say,
A room is still a room
Even when there's nothing there but gloom.
But a room is not a house
And a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
And one of us has a broken heart.
How true. How can two people enjoy their meal if they are not in talking
terms with each other? How can a couple sleep soundly in the same bed if
their hearts are oceans apart? How can a family live peacefully under one
roof if they hate each other so much? How can a company go on working
together if its people cannot see eye to eye with one another? How can we
go on living in a country where the gap between rich and poor is abysmal?
How can this country be a strong republic when political parties and
personalities spend more time, money, and effort demolishing one another?
Alas, it is our extreme familiarity with this terrible sense of alienation
that makes our desire for HOME even more poignant.
Ask anyone of our generation which line from the film ET he or she would
remember. Almost certainly they would repeat the three words said in
anguish by the hapless little alien to the boy: ET phone home. These were
the words that made a lot of people cry because they triggered the
universal longing for home in them.
This longing is also what advent is about. Advent is the time during which
we renew our hope in a return. At some point during the Mass, we are made
to proclaim the mystery of daith. And we say Christ has died, Christ is
risen, Christ will come again. Si Kristo'y babalik sa wakas ng panahon.
Kailan iyon? Naghihintay pa rin tayo. Hindi kaya parang paghihintay ito
sa wala?
May isang taong-grasa doon sa amin sa San Fernando, na laging nakikita sa
isang waiting shed sa isang takdang oras, naghihintay. Ang tawag naming sa
kanya ay Djanggo. Malungkot ang kuwento ng buhay niya. Doon pala sa
waiting shed na iyon nagkasundong magtagpo sina Djanggo at ang kanyang
kasintahan, para magtanan, mga 20 years ago. Naghintay siya nang naghintay
pero walang dumating na kasintahan. Kinaumagahan pa nang mabalitaan niyang
papunta na pala ang babae sa tagpuan nila, pero naaksidente at namatay.
Mula noon, sa isang takdang oras, araw-araw, bumabalik balik si Djanggo sa
eksaktong lugar na iyon, sa pag-asang minsan, isang araw, darating ang
mahal niya upang sunduin siya.
continued next page.....
