Friar Alessandro - Panis Angelicus

Continuing a Journey of Service

Offerings to the Lord will never be enough to match His love.  Bringing  the Holy Eucharist to some forty patients in two convalescent facilities every month, spreading His Word as I lector, administering Holy Communion Sundays as Eucharistic Minister, sharing the teachings of Christ in my catechism class, and empowering the youth and young adults in the ministry I organized and now coordinate:  Is all that sufficient to repay the  love He poured on us by dying on the Cross to save us? Can you imagine Heaven being opened to us after His death? Ah, what a glorious recompense!

But the Lord has called me to more. As I stopped my car's engine in the parking lot of my parish one morning, the office manager knocked on my glass window, and as I opened it, said, in a desperate tone, "Blanca, we need your help." It turned out one of the new priests in our parish needs English, which, as a Portuguese, he never had the need to master among all the other languages he learned aside from his own native language. He's new in America and of course, should be able to communicate with his flock in the language most in the country speak. So, this is the answer of God when I asked a few days ago, "Lord, what else do you want me to do?" What a privilege to help this beloved Shepherd of God. I dream of the day he will be able to say mass in English to reach his English speaking congregation.

I have retired from teaching ESL as a credentialed instructor of Los Angeles Unified District. I just continued as the volunteer coordinator and teacher of the parish outreach program, which I organized, by the way, 20 years ago. For more than two years, Rev. Michael Perucho and I had searched for somebody to take over this job, since I really wanted to retire from the Program after handling it for those many years. But it seems, there is no such word as retirement for one that God is still letting to walk this earth and to serve. So, here I am, Lord. Just lead me and do not let me get weary.

THROUGH THE YEARS

THROUGH THE YEARS:

PANIS ANGELICUM

I ever tire of listening to FriarAlessandro sing this:

Panis angelicus
fit panis hominum;
Dat panis cœlicus
figuris terminum:
O res mirabilis!
Manducat Dominum
Pauper, servus et humilis.

Te trina Deitas
unaque poscimus:
Sic nos tu visita,
sicut te colimus;
Per tuas semitas
duc nos que tendimus,
Ad lucem quam inhabitas.

Bread of the Angels
Is made bread for mankind;
Gifted bread of Heaven
Of all imaginings the end;
Oh, thing miraculous!
This body of God will nourish
the poor, the servile, and the humble.

Thee Triune God,
We beseech;
Do us Thou visit,
Just as Thee we worship.
By Thy ways,
lead us where we are heading,
to the light Thou dwellest in.

MIRACLES AND SCIENCE

• Apropos some miracles I have experienced and posted in this blog before, here's an addendum: "Naturalistic scientists presuppose that the universe is structured and follows rational physical laws which can be determined by experimentation and observation. The Bible actually teaches this concept. But why is there constancy in the universe and why does it follow rational laws? Because there is a Creator, because God is logical and has imposed order on the universe. The universe obeys laws because God established them. And God has given us the capability for these laws to be discovered by man; God created our mind—we are made in His image. God also wants us to search out knowledge and understanding. (Proverbs 1:5, 4:7, 16:16, 23:23, 25:2). Does this of necessity mean that science must exclude the miraculous? Since God is capable of creating the universe and establishing the natural laws which govern it, would He not also be able to supersede those laws occasionally when He chooses? It is illogical to think that God could create the universe out of nothing but then would be powerless over it."

TO BE HUMAN

     Reposting this old poem of mine in the wake of the Sri Lanka suicide bombing that killed hundreds of Christians         


TO BE HUMAN

  

The thing hoods his head and shrouds his face

Scared to let others know the real him.

Would he let us see the contour of his soul?

Beloved earthling, why do you hide behind 

a black shade? Is your face so accursed 

it glowers beyond my nightmare?  

 What kind of god tells you to behead  

One who touched not a single strand 

Of your hair?

What power sets your mind to mangle

a world so lovingly shaped by the one

true God, then rend yourself to pieces?

What vileness breaks your fragile brain

And turns your humanness into a chimera?

Oh, that you would wake up ,

Would that you look to the sun and lift the veil,

Shake off the shackles and behold

The heroic wresting lives from dragon.

Breathe in the fresh scent of flowers,

Cradle a  baby, nurse a wounded soldier.

See, the sky bends to kiss the sea.

Sun gleams resplendent if you let it in.

See the you that is human and beautiful

With all the fullness of your splendor.

                            - Blanca Datuin, (c) 2008

Obituary n Loneliness

OBITUARY

Poring over death notices is addictive.

Do I know any on this earth, heard of

those morphed into dust to fly with

the swaying clouds on a last voyage?

How had they lived, what cut that final

breath mourned by wrenched hearts?

The poet that surpassed ultimate in arts 

to live on through eternity in fame, 

giants, players of field, rising to mount peaks

victors climbing the height of glory,

building towers of sky height, beyond Babel.

Jetting to the moon, what else is there to conquer?

Plethora of lives gone fill pages of print.

Countless leaving this world crowned with 

laurels, names hallowed. Such recherché du

temps perdu,leaving memories to live on

behind the thicket of drying leaves as

cowslip bows its head at sunset’s last colors.

When time comes to claim this soul, what then?

Aura popularis,when did a sniff of it come?

Naked I saw the light, crown of glory ne’er

intruded, a speck of luster ne’er passed

through my window. I leave this world still 

naked as yesterday, will slip away sans 

trumpet to beat the dirge, only my dog moaning,

whiff of jasmine in air, languid sky kissing sun, 

my creed and eucharist to whet tongue,

ah, sweet oblation. Feathery light flying.

handmaid I serve, servant I go, to 

meet my master where sun never sets.

                                    -blanca datuin

  © 2014, revised 2018

LONELINESS

What night is free from goblins that yoke 

yesterday’s web, laughter, joys, sorrows 

strung together to face agonies of 

a writhing world? We dance your song

our song, locked together in shadows

that gilded the memory.

The lull lynches when day is over.

The lump leaves not, like a stubborn 

stone to prey upon a surviving soul.

Hark, my angel, where is the comfort 

for this mortal body aching to fly skies

to snow-white swaying clouds that 

carry to bliss that never ends.

Crawl out of this cavern of loneliness,

and end this wait for stalactites to melt,

when cobwebs of memories return

to claw at your heart. Fetters must

be cut loose to see sun kissing the light.

                                    ©2012, revised 2018