We priests believe firmly that we have a vocation, that is to say that we are called by the Lord. But the question arises, to what are we called? For some reason, my memory tracks back to 1981, when the local Vicar General of our Diocese in the Philippines was formally inducting me as parish priest. The brief Mass had a long homily. What was the new parish priest for? “Call him,” said the Monsignor, “for the sick, for blessings, for reconciliation, for the poor, the homeless, the children, Sacraments, etc.” I remember thinking to myself, “I’m to do more than 20 things here in San Pablo. So this is my vocation.”
The Vicar General had more than 50 years of service behind him, had survived the American colonial regime and the Japanese occupation, so he must know what he was talking about. But where would I start in his long list of services? On the first morning, on looking out the window I could see five very industrious women. They were sweeping, dusting, polishing, even mopping the wall. What on earth could this be about? Opening the door I quickly found out. My predecessor had a cook. All five women were applicants for the job.
I wondered what the Monsignor would have done. I didn’t want to hurt or turn away anyone, but I didn’t see how I could afford a cook. Yet it took me more than one whole day to accomplish a task that a competent canteen manager would have accomplished in ten minutes. Nena was clearly the most vigorous sweeper having piled a knee-deep corner of dust and sand. But Josie and Mila had actually climbed a wall to reach and clean the gutters. Then I had a brain wave and asked, “Who was my predecessor’s cook?” “Oh, she’s an outsider and doesn’t belong in this place,” was the reply. However, after much agonizing, and for want of a better way to resolve my dilemma, I reinstated the former cook two mornings a week.
As time went on I discovered great treasures among the women of the parish. Marisa was a member of the Apostleship of Prayer. I’d met this group in another parish. To me they were the nearest thing to 'Women’s Lib' activists. This woman and two or three friends went on to become the 'Appropriate Housing Group'. During my time they built sixty-eight houses for families who had mostly lived in illegal shacks constructed on sidewalks. The housing group from Germany, who helped fund the project and the young architects from the nearby university thought we were marvellous.
A credit union stimulated the school and dozens of small shops in the market came from gatherings which discussed what we needed most. One disappointing case became the bane of our lives, with children in and out of jail and an alcoholic husband. One day when the flood was knee-deep in all our houses, I observed her daughter splashing through the flood with a huge sack on her shoulder. Too mucky for me, I just let her pass. Only later did we discover that she had cleared our little student library of a whole shelf of expensive math books. “Keep the books on the shelves or sell to feed the hungry?” A Gospel dilemma surely!
Did we thank God and make our needs known to Him? It used to hit me over the head when I looked at our under-20 choir. Nobody could say how many were escapees from the nearby jail. They sang every verse of every song and retired to the nearby bar after Mass to recover. So, vocation, who calls? Is it God? Or is it the people? Or both! I keep thinking about that.
Columban Fr Sean Connaughton served for many years in the Philippines and now serves as assistant in Castletown-Finea, in the Diocese of Meath, Ireland.
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