NO YOU don’t cover John Paul II. He covers you. His presence totally engulfs you. MORONG, Bataan/February 21, 1981 – At the Bataan Refugee Processing Center as early as the break of day, a crowd of thousands have started gathering before the canopied altar where the pilgrim pope is scheduled to celebrate Mass, principally for the Vietnamese, Laotian and Cambodian refugees.
The wife and I – both information officers of the regional office of the Department of Public Information – along with a few staff conduct interviews among the faithful, both local and foreign. The single question: “What does the Pope mean to you?” Responses salvaged from fading memory now include:“Kindness. Why can’t leaders of our country be as kind as he is?” “Hope. I thought the world has forgotten us.
He gives us hope of one day going back to our homeland, unafraid, un-persecuted for our beliefs.” “Luck. Maybe soon, some other country will take us. The Pope may be our lucky charm.” “Faith. In the basic goodness of all of us toward our fellowmen.”
“Grace. To bear our sufferings as Christ bore his for our sins.” Virtues and values that find printedexpression in a white streamer at the site: “Wherever the Pope goes, the best things will be.” Indeed. Indeed. Then there is a direct plea, “Save the Cambodian People.” The horrific “Killing Fields” of the Khmer Rouge unearthed, going the rounds in the international media.
Past noon, a US Navy helicopter from Subic lands, bringing in its most previous cargo: John Paul II. A hush – and then deafening applause to the shouts of “Totus Tuus” and “Amo Te.” An onrush, as a tide, of bodies with outstretched arms – seeking to touch, stemmed by an immovable white wall – of security men in barong.
The tide may have been contained, but it is John Paul II that broke the wall – taking babies to bless and kiss, reaching out, touching heads and hands. The cries of “Viva il Papa” crescendoing to the highest pitch as the Pontiff ascends the stairs to the canopied altar.
A quietude descending upon the faithfulas the strains of the opening hymn signal the pontifical Mass beginning. The readings I cannot now recall. But his homily is seared into my consciousness — charity, the greatest of all virtues.
Finding so much resonance in the hearts of the Vietnamese, Laotian and Cambodian refugees:“Charity makes no excuses because of the other person’s ethnic origin, religious allegiance or political preference, no exception whatsoever; a charity which sees the person asa brother or sister in need and sees only one thing: to be of immediate assistance, to be a neighbour…
The Church is ever mindful that Jesus Christ himself was a refugee, that as a child he had to flee with his parents from his native land in order to escape persecution. In every age, therefore, the Church feels herself called to help refugees.
And she will continue to do so, to the full extent that her limited means allow… …Of all human tragedies of our day, perhaps the greatest is that of the refugees.” (No, that is not committed to memory.
I found it in some periodicals I kept as souvenir of that papal visit.) So deeply touched, one can almost hear John Paul II’s heart break as he blesses and kisses refugee children in their native costumes bringing him gifts during the Offertory. Among the gifts, a basket of vegetables grown by them.
At the consecration, one feels one’s heart literally lifting up to the Lord, in pure adoration of the bread and wine transubstantiated to the real, mystical body and blood of Christ. In absolute submission to the Lord’s presence, the camera slung on my shoulder makes an intruding reminder of my “official” purpose: to cover the Pope.
Hastily, I focus and click twice – in the midst of the Lord’s Prayer – in time to capture a dove perching on the stairs at the foot of John Paul II, Cardinal Sin, and First Lady Imelda Marcos.
The peace of Christ be always with you, John Paul II intones, his message embracing he whole congregation, not the least of whom the First Lady and the Cardinal, whose “critical collaboration” with the Marcoses is later to turn into open confrontation.
But that is two years in the future yet, after the martyrdom of Benigno Aquino, Jr. In the meantime, the Mass ends – Go in the peace of Christ. Thanks be to God.
Viva il Papa! Viva! Media frenzy – the clicks of SLRs, the whirrs of television cameras amid all the jostling and pushing. Arms raised, I point and shoot, without the benefit of focus.
On the steps of the US Navy helicopter to ferry him to Subic, John Paul II raises his hands in a final blessing, sweeping the multitude, his eyes on mine – ll for a nanosecond but seems an eternity to me, feeling as that thief promised Paradise by the crucified Christ.
Blessed, this sinner, for having been in the presence of the Holy John Paul II that day in Morong in February 1981, a presence that has remained in my being till now.
