Remembrance

(In celebration of the 100 years of the Redemptorists in the Philippines)

How will we remember you?

When you build no monuments

Wrote no memoirs

But the peasants told us

How you enjoyed eating camote in their farms

The tribal people narrated

How you climb mountains to visit their tribe

A poor family described

How you slept in their mats

The children recalled

How you taught them under the trees

The youngsters cherished the moments

How you sang songs and danced to their music

Barrio folks reminisced

How you arrived with heavy equipments

Summoning fire and brimstone from heaven

Lest they reform from their evil ways

They wondered

How you knew so much about hell

Yet described God's mercy

In their native tongue with your foreign accent

Clergy from the parish convent wondered

How you solemnized thousands of marriages

Heard thousands of confessions

And presided over hundreds of masses

with meager collection

The workers hark back to the times

How you wasted time in the picket lines

The urban poor recalled

How you stood locked in arms during demolitions

The men in the villages cheered

How you shared the same glass of gin

How will we acknowledge you?

You left no wealth, no power, no fame

Yet, you were constantly

Under surveillance

Declared a threat

In the halls of power and might

What title will we bestow upon you?

They call you many labels

Terrorist, communist, subversive,

Tourist, fire and brimstone doomsayer,

Water diviner, poet, organizer

Barrio preacher, cowboy, clown

Yet, you remained nameless

Like the most abandoned

Whom you favored

Who shall carry your name?

You had no wife and children

But many count you

As member of their family

A father, a grandfather, a brother, an uncle, a godfather

What heroic acts of yours will we proclaim?

When many times

You were lonely, tired, and homesick

Sought the company of a friend

The camaraderie of confreres

Yet, you hung on

Consumed by the mission

Burned by the fire

Of the love of Jesus Christ

.

You did not belong to any country

But every country you went

Claimed you as one of theirs

You had no permanent address

But most barrios you stayed

Prodded you to remain

You refuse to grow old

As you prefer to die

With your boots on

You were finally laid to rest

In a land other than your own

But you never left us

Your pioneering spirit

As indestructible fire

Continue to haunt us

Rousing us from our deep slumber

Rescuing us from your success

Tearing down walls and structures

Of security and comfort

Summoning our well-protected bodies

Into the fields, mountains and rivers

Crowded slums and city sidewalks

Where you wandered for a hundred years

That we may traverse new horizons

Learn of adventure

Live the wonder

Of sowing the seeds

God's Kingdom here and now

You are remembered,

Forever!

Joey O. Echano, CSsR.

January 12, 2006