JESUS AS FATHER

JESUS AS FATHER

In Spain, Italy, Portugal, and in many countries where Spain used to rule and where its missionaries spread the Catholic faith, it is usual to come across images of Our Lord calling Him "Our Father." In Spanish, "Nuestro Padre."

Many Catholics are curious about this, because we have all been taught that Jesus is the Son, not the Father. Every Catholic begins prayer saying, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." We know there is one God, but three distinct persons, each of them fully God. But the Father is not the Son, the Son is not the Father, and neither the Father nor the Son is the Holy Spirit. They are three distinct persons, but one God and each of the three persons is fully God. The mystery of the Trinity!

So if the Son is not the Father, why is it a tradition in many Catholic countries to call Jesus "Our Father?"

The simplest, shortest and fastest answer is to say : Jesus is not the person of the Father in the Holy Trinity, but Jesus is like a father to us, and He is like the Father in the Holy Trinity.

Just one example of a Chamorro hymn called Jesus "my Father."

Jesus Tatå-ho mames.
Jesus my sweet Father.

JESUS IS LIKE THE FATHER

We have heard the saying, "Like father, like son." This simple saying is profoundly true when it comes to Jesus and His Father.

In John 14:8, the Apostle Philip asked Jesus to show them God the Father. Jesus replied, "Have I been so long a time with you, and you do not know me? Philip, he who sees me sees the Father also. How do you say, 'Show us the Father?'"

It is not that Jesus is Himself the Father, but that Jesus is so perfectly like His Father that "to see the son is to see the father." We say this even of human sons and fathers who look so much alike, and even more when the son has the same personality as the father. When it comes to Jesus, Jesus is so obedient to His Father, doing and saying nothing except what the Father asks Him to say and do, that "to see the son is to see the father."

Is the Father merciful? He is, and we see it in the merciful acts of Jesus. Is the Father a provider? He is, and we see it in the way Jesus fed the hungry. Is the Father all-powerful? He is, and we see it in the power Jesus had over the wind, the sea, the demons and diseases. Is God a Father? He is, and we see it in the way Jesus is fatherly to us.

Several times in the Bible, Jesus shares the same titles as God the Father. This is because both Jesus and His Father are one and the same God. The Father is called a Rock in Isaiah 44:9; Jesus is called a Rock in 1 Corinthians 10:4. The Father is called a Shepherd in Ezekiel 34:11-16; Jesus calls Himself a Shepherd in John 10:11. Both the Father and the Son are Rock and Shepherd in their own ways. In similar fashion, the Son is like the Father in that He truly resembles the Father in what He says and does.

And so, in Isaiah 9:6, the Messiah who is to come in the future was called by the prophet the Eternal Father. The Messiah, born in human flesh, is Eternal Father. And He is called so not merely by a human prophet, but by God the Holy Spirit, who inspired the prophet. God Himself calls Jesus "the Eternal Father." Not that Jesus is the person of God the Father, but that He is like God the Father.

JESUS IS LIKE A FATHER TO US

When the Son of God took on human flesh and human nature, He became our brother, since He became like us in all things but sin. And yet, this brother of ours calls us "children" and "His children." How can a brother call his brothers and sisters His "children?" He can, because He is our brother by sharing in our human nature, but He is a spiritual father to us as God and as founder of the Church to which we belong. He is both a brother and a father to us.

In Matthew 9:2 and Mark 2:4, Jesus called a paralyzed man, "my son." Here, Jesus is clearly calling Himself a father to this paralyzed man, and He acts like a father. What loving father would not want to cure a paralyzed son? And more than cure him of his physical condition, Jesus forgives his sins, something only God can do.

In John 13:33, Jesus calls His own Apostles, "little children," at the Last Supper. As the perfect image of His Father, Jesus revealed the Father and the truths of God to the Apostles, "the little children (Matthew 11:25 and Luke 10:21)."

And, lest we forget, Jesus is as much our father as is God the Father in that all creation was made by Him (John 1:3). All three persons of the Trinity were involved in creating the universe, but as the Son is the Word of God, when the Father thought (Word) of a tree, that tree came into existence because of that Word! And so on with all creation!

Besides being involved in our first creation, Jesus is also part of our re-creation, our second birth. Just as we have a first human father in the First Adam, who brought us death through his disobedience, you and I are born again through the obedience of the Second Adam, Christ, who is our father in salvation. That is why he is like a father to us because we are reborn through His blood; we are made members of His Body, the Church, of which He is the head, like a father.

What loving father would not die in order to save his child? And this is precisely what Christ did. He showed Himself to be the best father we could have, by dying to save us.

So, although Jesus is not the person of God the Father, He is like God the Father, and He is like a father to us. In that way, we can call Jesus "our Father," always keeping in mind that He is the Son of God the Father.

In the Litany of the Most Holy Name of Jesus, Jesus is called Father of the World to Come, another version of "Eternal Father." In the same Litany, Jesus is called Father of the Poor. Jesus is like a father to us. Notice Jesus is also called an angel, even though Jesus is not literally an angel, which is a created spirit whereas Jesus is God who is not created but who is instead the creator of all things. But Jesus is like an angel, the word "angel" meaning "messenger." God the Father sent Jesus as a messenger to the world teaching us God's truth (great counsel).

AN UNFULFILLED LAST WISH

PIGO' CEMETERY

in the late 1950s

In the summer of 1959, Bishop Baumgartner was in a bit of a crisis. The Stigmatine priests who staffed Fr Dueñas Memorial School told him only that April or May that they wouldn't be returning at all to the school. That meant Baumgartner needed to find 6 or 7 priest teachers in three months.

He turned to the Capuchins who did the best they could to get some of their priests to serve as principal and to teach, while allowing the first (few and male) lay teachers to teach at Fr Dueñas.

But, in order to help run the school, the Capuchins in New York sent one of their own to Guam, specifically to teach at Fr Dueñas. He also had, unlike most of the other priests, a college degree. His name was Father Donan Hickey. The understanding was that Fr Donan was to be on Guam and teach at Fr Dueñas for a few years.

Shortly after Father Donan arrived, someone took him on a tour of the island. Fr Donan told me this story himself.

The tour ended at an unusual place - a cemetery! Pigo' Cemetery. As the car drove into the cemetery, Fr Donan saw this huge, white marble cross on top of a rock. It made such a huge impression on Father Donan. He told the driver the following, "This is where I want to live, die and be buried." Fr Donan continued to live the rest of his life on Guam, teaching at Fr Dueñas and being pastor of a few parishes. What was supposed to be a short time on Guam turned out to be a lifetime commitment.

Except that...

In 1993, Fr Donan went back to his home state of New York for a little break and to visit his family. While he was there, his health declined. It declined so bad that he couldn't get out of bed. He died in New York, and the superior decided to bury him at the friars' cemetery in Yonkers, New York.

His last desire for his earthly life - to be buried at Pigo' - never came about.

I wonder, though. He was bedridden in New York, but lucid. He knew he was approaching death. Had he not mentioned to anyone, or even insisted, that he be buried in Guam? Perhaps he resigned himself to the circumstances he found himself in.

FR DONAN'S GRAVE IN YONKERS, NEW YORK

Not where he wanted to be buried!

Alas, we do not decide where we are born nor where we die.

The huge white marble cross is still at Pigo' Cemetery, but on top of the new mausoleum. The big rock is gone.

CHILDHOOD ACCIDENTS

In the photo above is the Sinajaña I grew up in, before Urban Renewal changed it all in 1971 and 1972.

The village of my childhood was a village where the streets were narrow and the natural playgrounds of the neighborhood kids when a car wasn't passing.

We had no concept of private property and we leisurely moved in groups from one family's property to another, making use of whatever we found on the street, brush or yard to make into toys. A stick and an empty tin can were more than enough for a few of us to get a half hour's worth of fun.

The picture also reminds me of two accidents I had as a kid. Two accidents aren't much and one of my brothers got into much more, to the extent of crashing his bicycle into a barbed wire fence, dripping with blood walking back home where our Auntie Rita, whom we all called Nina, burst into tears.

But I had at least two mishaps to "brag" about.

BAMBOO CANNONS

One accident involved my right foot.

One afternoon I was walking around the neighborhood, bored and looking at what was up. I noticed that a bunch of guys (all in their teens) were under a house. Many houses in those days were built on posts (haligi) so that the space under the house (påpa' såtge) could be used for storage, chicken coops or whatever.

I had no idea what those boys (older than me, I was around 8) were doing under that house but it sounded like fun. So I started to creep under the house. About five feet into the space, which was somewhat dark, my right foot, wearing a zori or rubber slipper, went right into a coffee can filled with melted wax.

Those boys had been making bamboo cannons, as seen in the pic above from another country. They were shooting soda pop cans! But they needed melted wax to seal holes, as the wax dried. I had made the mistake of stepping into their can of hot, melted wax made from stick candles.

So I cried like a baby and out of the dark, muddled shadows of teenage boys emerged my brother Mark who took me out of the underspace. I learned later that my other brother Carl was also in the group. Mark was around 16 years old at the time. He carried me in his arms to our house, just about a block away. Both mom and dad were not home. There weren't cellular phones in those days. Luckily it was around 4pm so we just waited for an hour till mom got home from work. All the while I was crying at the burning sting in my foot. All Mark could do was hold me on his lap. I looked at my foot and thought my skin was peeling off. In reality, it was the wax hardening from cooling off. Lol.

When mom came home, she drove me to the Seventh Day Adventist clinic which, in those days, was where Simply Food and their church is today, in Agaña Height across the Governor's House. There a nurse put wet strips of something or other on my foot then bandaged it in gauze.

In the end, whatever burn I suffered was minor. My skin didn't even peel. After 24 hours, I was good as new.

FELL INTO AN OUTHOUSE

In those days, we had outdoor toilets here and there. Kommon sanhiyong, in Chamorro. Most houses had indoor plumbing by then, but some either didn't have an indoor toilet or they just preferred doing their business outside.

I was walking past the Ramos house and saw a big hole in their yard. I can't say for sure the hole was on the Ramos property, but their house was not far from the hole.

Being the curious person I am, as seen in my burnt foot incident, I walked over to the hole to look inside. It was a rainy day and the soil was slippery. I just remember being impressed by how deep it was and how red the slimy soil was.

Before you know it, I found myself inside the hole!

My feet had slipped on the muddy edge of the hole. I didn't hurt myself going down, but now I saw no way of getting out of the hole! I was between 8 and 10 years old at the time; maybe 5 feet tall, give or take a few inches. The hole was at least 6 or 7 feet deep.

I started screaming; not too much; not as if I were drowning or in a panic. Just yelling out "help" every minute or so.

Eventually, someone heard me and after around 5 minutes one of the Ramos teenage boys was looking down at me from the top of the hole. If memory serves, someone just used their hand to reach in and grab my hand and pull me out.

The only thing injured was my pride.

I later found out that the hole was dug for a new outhouse. Thank God I didn't fall into a hole that already had its grand opening.

FATHER CORNELIUS AND THE BULL

Father Cornelius Murphy was the lone Capuchin missionary priest of Luta (Rota).

In 1967, Luta had less than 1000 people. Very few residents were not native-born, and Father Cornelius was one of the few Caucasians living there. He was also the one and only Catholic priest, at a time when virtually all the islanders were Catholic.

Being a priest, Father Cornelius prayed his breviary at least twice a day, in the morning and in the evening. The breviary is a prayer book made up largely of psalms.

Father Cornelius decided to pray his breviary one day while walking outside on the grass.

So focused was he praying from the book, "attente et devote," as they say in Latin (attentively and devoutly) that he did not notice the rush of feet coming up behind him. A bull had gotten loose and started charging at the priest.

Right when Father Cornelius bowed his head at the Gloria Patri (Glory Be), the bull smacked Father's behind, and now Father Cornelius was flying in the air, closer to heaven.

Fortunately, the only thing injured was Father Cornelius' priestly dignity. He lived to tell the tale by way of Ham Radio, which the missionaries on the different islands used in those days when telephone service was unreliable.

Father Sylvan, listening to the story on Saipan, let his pipe fall from his mouth and said into his microphone, "Repeat, please, repeat....hahaha."

Another missionary, Father Emery, had a hard time deciding which headline to use when he wrote a little article about this incident :

FRIAR HAS BULL SESSION

BULL HAS LOW OPINION OF FRIAR

PRAYING FRIAR FALLS FOR BULL

BULL'S EYE ON FRIAR

FRIAR GETS RISE FROM BULL

LUTA

ITE AD JOSEPH

Wedding picture of Vicente A. Pinaula and Oliva M. Paulino

St. Joseph Church, Inalåhan

(courtesy of Tente Flores)

As you can see in this photo, St. Joseph Church in Inalåhan used to have written above its front doors a Latin phrase : ITE AD JOSEPH.

The phrase has since been removed. I wonder why?

Since many people still remember that phrase, and younger ones see the phrase in photos such as this, and do not understand what it means or why it was written above the doors, here's the background.

THE OLD TESTAMENT JOSEPH

Joseph, as an Egyptian official, deals with his needy brethren

The Church has traditionally seen the Old Testament Joseph as a forerunner of the New Testament Joseph. There are a number of similarities between them. They both had dreams; they both were chaste; both their fathers were named Jacob. And, perhaps most important of all, they both came to the rescue of their families.

The Old Testament Joseph was one of twelve sons of Jacob. His older brothers harbored a grudge against him and sold him into slavery to merchants heading for Egypt. After a series of trials and difficulties in Egypt, Joseph rose to become a trusted highest adviser of Pharaoh and was put in charge of the granaries of Egypt. Joseph stored so much surplus grain during seven years of abundant harvest that when seven years of famine occurred, Egypt did not suffer because of all that reserved grain.

The famine touched Israel, where Joseph's family had remained. Jacob sent his sons to seek food in Egypt, not knowing that the brother they sold into slavery had become the second most powerful man in Egypt. But Joseph had pity on his family and saved them.

Jacob and his family were not the only ones who sought help from Egypt. People from all over that part of the world, starving from the famine, looked for food in Egypt. When they would approach Pharaoh with their request, Pharaoh would say :

"Go to Joseph and do what he tells you." (Genesis 41:55)

In Latin, "Go to Joseph" is "Ite ad Joseph." So :

ITE AD JOSEPH.

GO TO JOSEPH.

Why go to Joseph? Because he will take care of you, save you, protect you.

THE NEW TESTAMENT JOSEPH

So, lo and behold, we find such a similarity between the Old and the New Testament Josephs. When the Holy Family was in trouble, with King Herod threatening the life of the newborn Jesus, the New Testament Joseph took the Virgin and Child to safety in Egypt, the same Egypt where Jacob and his family found salvation when they were starving.

Saint Joseph was just like the Old Testament Joseph, giving protection and safety to the family.

An angel symbolically offers the Church to St Joseph as her protector

The Church sees in Saint Joseph this role even to this day, and for another family, the family of the Church, which is like another Holy Family, because the Church is Christ's Bride, His Body, His family. Thus, Saint Joseph was made the Universal Patron of the Church, and we ask that he continue to provide us his protection. When in need : Ite ad Joseph. Go to Joseph.

NAN BOTA

Verónica Lizama Camacho, better known to us in the village as Nan Bota, was one of my elderly parishioners in San Roque, Saipan in the early 1990s. She was born in 1908, during the German administration of Saipan. She was 83 years old when I first met her.

She is one of the reasons why, from 1991 till 1994, I had to improve my Chamorro language skills dramatically. She, along with a few others, was one of those people born so long before the American presence in Saipan began in 1944 that she could not speak English.

Learning to become as fluent as possible in Chamorro was not just a way to communicate with those who didn't speak English. Speaking Chamorro to Chamorros who could speak English connected me to them more strongly. The language is ours and it carries a feeling, an underlying message, beyond the literal meaning.

Nan Bota went to Mass almost every day.

TI SIÑA TITIYAS

She told me a lot of things about the past, but one that sticks out is the rule against unnecessary manual labor on Sundays, the Lord's Day.

She said that the family's titiyas (corn tortillas) which were to be eaten on Sunday had to be made on the Saturday before. You couldn't grind the corn on a Sunday to make the corn flour to make the titiyas. The grinding required real manual work. "Ti siña an Damenggo sa' fuetsa," she said. "You can't on a Sunday because it is exertion," as she stretched out her arms and mimicked the motion of grinding corn.

WHY SHE MARRIED LATE IN LIFE

Nan Bota was a widow for many years already when I got to know her. She once explained to me why she married late in life.

"Åntes de gera, gi gima'-måme giya Garapan, man akihot i gima' siha. Siña un hungok håfa ma susesede gi besino." ("Before the war, in our house in Garapan, the homes were close to each other. You can hear what is happening at the neighbor's.")

"Guaha dos na umasagua na besinon-måme. Todo i tiempo mumumu i dos. Umachatfinu'e yan uma'essalåggue." ("There was a married couple who were our neighbors. They fought all the time. Cussing at each other and yelling at each other.")

"Hu deside, na yanggen taiguine i lina'la' kasamiento, ti malago' yo' umassagua." ("I decided, if this is married life, I don't want to get married.")

WHY SHE MARRIED HER HUSBAND

"Påle', bai sangåne hao, gof chatpago i asaguå-ho, lao hu asagua gue' sa' pot maolek i kostumbre-ña." ("Father, I will tell you, my husband was very ugly, but I married him because of his good character."

I'd say a very good reason to marry someone. Marry them for the beauty of their heart, which not only doesn't age but which in fact can grow in beauty, rather than for the passing beauty of the body. Makes for a more successful marriage.

A SPECIAL AFFIRMATION

When I announced that I would be leaving the parish to be transferred back to Guam, she was sad to see me go. She told me,

"Meggai na mamåle' hu li'e' lao tåya' na hu li'e' gi pumalo siha na mamåle' taimano i un cho'gue guine." ("I have seen many priests but I have never seen in the other priests the way you did things here.")

Considering that this was a lady who lived thirty-some years BEFORE World War II and fifty-some years after the war, I was very touched by what she said. I am sure that other priests did exceptional work all those seventy-some years before me, and that she was speaking in the context of seeing me leave. Just to think of Påle' Tardio, the Spanish priest of Garapan who faced gigantic challenges under the Japanese and during the war! But I still appreciated her affirmation.

A LAND I COULDN'T OWN

I had already left Saipan but would visit at least once a year to offer an occasional funeral Mass, or lead a retreat, preach a mission and so on.

On one such visit, I went to see Nan Bota. She was getting weaker and sensed that she may not have many more years ahead. As she lay in bed, she called into the room her daughter, a few grand children and even great grandchildren who were in their early 20s.

She started to tell them all, in Chamorro, that she wanted me to inherit a portion of her land when she died. She identified specifically what lot she wanted me to have.

We all smiled and nodded and said, "Hunggan, hunggan," ("Yes, yes,") but we all knew her intention could never be fulfilled and for two, separate reasons.

First, I am a Capuchin Friar with a vow of poverty, which means I cannot own anything in my own name. Even if my own parents willed some of their land or possessions to me, I could not inherit them in my own name.

Secondly, the Constitution of the Northern Mariana Islands, in Article 12, limits ownership of land in the Northern Marianas to those of Northern Marianas descent, which I am not. It is legally impossible for me to own land in the Northern Marianas.

Still, I was touched by her kind gesture.

Rest in peace, Nan Bota.

HIS ONE REGRET IN LIFE

Vicente Camacho Reyes being sworn in as judge by Governor RADM Pownall in 1947

The US Navy still ran the show

Looking back, I must say that I could ask rather bold questions when I was young. But, the elders in my family usually humored me with a response.

Uncle Ben was married to my grandmother's sister and we all lived in three houses in one cluster. Grandma's house, my mom and dad's house and Uncle Ben's house. Uncle Ben and Auntie Ana never had grown children (she lost them all in infancy or in miscarriage) so I was partly raised by them.

By the time I was old enough to understand anything, I knew that Uncle Ben was a judge. I'd even hang out at his judge's chambers and watch him preside over hearings and trials in court when I was 8 years old. But it was only much later, when I was a teen, that I learned that Uncle Ben had been a judge once before, right after the war. That's when he was first made a judge, in 1947 by Governor Pownall.

Once, when I was already a teen, I asked Uncle Ben a bold question.

"Uncle, what is your one regret in life?"

I was not prepared for the answer. Uncle Ben always answered honestly, and, even though I was just a kid, he treated me with the kind of respect one gives an adult.

He replied, "My one regret in life is that I sent a man to his death."

The only information I got from him was that he was a judge at the time. A man, a Filipino, had been found guilty of murder and off he went to the gallows.

I do not know if Uncle Ben had any choice in the matter. At times, the law mandates the death sentence for certain crimes. Certain kinds of murders, for example. But what I do know is that despite the man's guilt proven in court, and despite the legality of capital punishment and the Church's teaching about its moral permissibility, Uncle Ben wished he had never sent the man to his death.

I pondered over Uncle Ben's answer. I imagined myself being in Uncle Ben's shoes. A man no longer lived, and I made that happen. His family could write to him, speak to him, see him. All the potentially good things the man could have done, were now all gone. I sent a man to see his Creator. Wow. I could start to feel Uncle Ben's regret. I know the Church's teaching on capital punishment, and recent Pope's statements that modern circumstances negate the need for it. But I am still sorting out my feelings over the issue. One thing's for sure, no matter how guilty a person is, I could never inject the poison or let swing the trap door. Not even for Hitler. To have that kind of control over life and death, I just cannot take that on myself. If my life were threatened, my mind says to find a way to save my life without taking one, but in the moment, with human instincts and reflexes more in charge, God knows what I would do.

THE GUILTY

Now that so much is available on the internet, I dug into this case of the hanged murderer.

His name was Mariano Genetano. All we know about him so far is that he was Filipino, one of hundreds of workers brought over to Guam after the war to work on the military build-up of the island.

In a tavern fight, according to one newspaper, Genetano killed a Marine, Hubert Oliver, on November 8, 1947. He was arrested and locked up. Then he escaped on May 24, 1948 and that's when he killed again. He met up with a Chamorro, Santiago Santos, asking him for clothing. Santos, probably sensing or even knowing that this was an escaped prisoner, refused. Genetano killed Santos and fled into the jungle but was captured.

In those days, since the island government was run by the US Navy, the Secretary of the Navy in Washington, DC had to confirm the death sentence. He did, and Genetano was hanged on January4, 1949.

Great Falls Tribune, January 5, 1949

Rest in peace, Uncle Ben, Mariano Genetano, Hubert Oliver and Santiago Santos.