Many moons ago, I grew up understanding the concept of the word ‘vocation’ as something different from the knowledge of the general public. It is usually ascribed to the religious context, a person being called into a specific ministry, function or office in a church service. But the phrase “one and the same” continues to ring not only in my ears but in the heart which I’ve tried to immerse in my reflection and prayer.
Last February 25, I was given the opportunity to assist a thanksgiving mass of a recently (well, last May 2019) ordained priest whose name is Fr. Rafael, and it was his brother Miggy who invited me to attend and also assist, which I am humbled by the assistance he sought. This was not the first time I’ve met the priest, since three years ago, I had the great opportunity to make a Holy Week pilgrimage to the very home of the Successor of Peter, and Raffy (as I called him back then) was still a layman — he was accompanying us as we traveled from the Vatican to a get-together where I was going to meet the Prelate of Opus Dei. I also only had brief conversations with Raffy, especially when we were late for the second get-together, and I won’t forget that he gently reprimanded me for not arriving on time since I was supposed to be given the opportunity to ask a question.
Back to the present day, seeing him again, an hour and a half before the thanksgiving mass, it made me remember his stature and his warm voice (which I’ve slightly forgotten — right after the pilgrimage, I graduated from high school and started meeting a lot of people in the university; so, I don’t know how many voices I’ve heard from the different dealings I’ve had with many other people then), which somewhat reminded me of Miggy (as he was my mentor for two years in high school). However, it was not this brief conversation, the actual ceremonial mass, or the fact that I was attending or even part of the help needed in the mass that moved me that day. In fact, I am and always will be a person who has stage fright especially when I’m standing in front of a hundred people seated in the congregation and I “represent” their voice.
Well, the truth is, I almost cried.
Before the Agnus Dei, the usual greeting of peace was exchanged with one another, but the only difference was (since I was standing on the left of the altar, facing the congregation), I saw Fr. Raffy going down to greet not only his brother priests but crossing to the other side of the altar to exchange a warm, long hug with each of his family members — his dad, his mom, and his brothers and sister-in-law. I suddenly felt myself choking a bit and felt tears in both of my eyes; of course, I was trying to hold it back because humanly speaking it would be awkward for me to cry especially I’m not related and I’m on the lectern. So, napigilan ko ang sarili ko and I had to clear my voice for the next few responses. At the same time, I also was looking at several older women (presumably mothers) who have been trying to hold back their tears falling on their reddish faces which began even before the mass had begun.
One of those women I mentioned included a dear friend of my mother who I got the opportunity to talk with after the mass. I told her that I noticed she began crying a few minutes before the mass had even begun, and she laughed a bit, explaining that it is truly a divine blessing to witness one who receives the gift of the priesthood. And with what I’ve witnessed from today, and from what I’ve heard from my dear mother’s friend, I couldn’t agree more. It was a long time ago when my close friend from high school forced me to serve for the Mass in our first retreat, and I remember shaking during the entire ceremony.
But in the end, I had true peace of mind and I don’t forget telling myself how much I’ve admired everything I’ve not only seen but witnessed — the beauty of the mass and how great the vocation this priest has received to celebrate it.
Unfortunately, what many people do not understand is there is no great divide between one’s self and one’s faith. Many people think that it’s an entirely different realm when one tries to deepen his relationship with God — spending a few minutes of daily prayer to God, to His Mother; going to Mass, praying the Rosary, etc. Many of the young people find it even useless to grow their spiritual lives, not knowing it is more essential than temporal pleasures we find online as we continued to be gratified and desensitized by the different stimulations we receive from watching different programs and movies on our mobile devices. We’ve learned how to build a great divide among ourselves and God, when, in fact, He has called us to a royal and common priesthood.
One and the same… vocation. This is what I mean by “one and the same,” because the vocation of the priest isn’t anything different than any ordinary Christian. The vocation of a Christian (yes, all of us Catholics are called by God to a vocation) isn’t anything less than the vocation of the priest. We might have our differences — outlook, attire, duties, and obligations — however, we live the same prayer, work and sacrifice God has called all of us too. If the priests have been called to a ministerial priesthood, then, their specific function is to minister and celebrate the holy sacrifice; while, we, Christians, participate and join the sacrifices that we offer daily — even our whole lives — to the Mass to live and answer the call of our common priesthood, which is part of the vocation we receive by the virtue of our Baptism.
We are not mere observers, for this is what I’ve witnessed, not only seen and heard, in the thanksgiving Mass of Fr. Raffy. While saying a few short prayers after receiving Communion, I was praying and at the same time realizing that God was telling me: “You, Fr. Raffy, and everyone in this room, have the same vocation,” and that is to love Him as He first loved us. This made me realize what it means to have one and the same vocation — there is no contradiction for me to receive the Eucharist daily and the watch my favorite shows on Netflix. There is no contradiction either for me to go out and spend time with my close friends in college, while I dedicate half an hour of prayer in Santisimo Rosario. There is no contradiction for me to teach catechism on the streets, and at the same time, learn how to be a journalist, writer, and teacher.
Perhaps what would appeal to young people like myself is not to call this vocation but as Love (with a capital L) because I’ve heard so many times to learn how to love, to discover what are my passions and how can I develop them further. That day, I’ve witnessed what Fr. Raffy would spend the rest of his life doing, and now, I continue to ask myself — what am I going to do in order to Love?
