Chapter 11
New Parish Assignment
(Fr. Driarco assuming his new assigned parish. Source: Retrieved 07-12-22. FYI The Church in the background is actually at the Seminary compound in St. John Vianney Seminary, CDO where the author is finishing the Graduate Theology Program to accredit his 4 years of Theology from two different Seminaries.)
"How fast time indeed flies," Fr. Driarco realized as he embarked on his new assignment as parish priest.
"Way to go. We don't have any control over where our calling would bring us. Obedience is the key," he learned convinced recalling various posts after missionary work in Taiwan.
"What a better way of returning the compliment to people who earlier helped and sent you to the Seminary," the thought played in his mind facing a new challenge in his new assignment.
"It's good that parishioners understand this movement though other parishes normally had their leverage raised to Diocesan Bishop for status quo of their parish priests.
"Most unlikely unless the concerned priest himself had a personal attachment with that parish."
"But that alone would raise suspicion of the character of that priest," Fr. Driarco clarified.
"Onward Christian soldier then should go."
. . . . . . . . . . .
Parish of St. John the Baptist of Esperanza is his third assignment in a row. Like all other priests, living with the people in each parish is just one big family, warm, delightful, and full of life. People are too accommodating in fact that he would always exercise prudence not to be swayed away attached to their private lives.
"Don't touch livewire, they would electrocute you to death in the end," he recalled the good Bishop of Romblon advised to him.
"The priests of the Church should all be above reproach. You cannot serve both God and mammon. Remember you are the Word-made-flesh, a living witness of His glory if you wish. Practice what you preach," he reminisced the wisdom from the good Bishop.
"Turn right and travel straightway onwards. That's the road towards heaven," he would in turn admonish any of his beleaguered parishioners coming seeking his advice in the convent.
"There's no other alternative left. The choice is yours. Either you work or not work for it. One thing though is sure. The prize is worth a thousand times more than the effort. Where the heart is willing it will find thousand means; but where the heart is unwilling, it will find not just thousand but millions of excuses," he would add recalling that didactic maxim of the past.
"Dealing with people is probably easier said than done. What if the Mayor wants to abuse and charge you against the wall?" Most unlikely, being the prince of peace in the area. But what if he would do it to any of his parishioners. That's where the real trouble lies. Fr. Driarco himself would not give a damn who they are. His records from two other parishes would show. He doesn't mind being re-shuffled again to any other parishes. He's not the one easily bullied and intimidated.
"If I don't stand up and protect my people, then I don't have any business either to be in this work."
"Never mind, if misunderstood as long as you're doing your work. That's your job. Christ did. Even coming face to face with the Devil later asking Him to surrender. But no. He just can't. His work tells Him not to. He's serving His Father, not Satan."
"No compromise with the devil. That's what Christ did," he challenged himself.
True to his knowledge, if ever there is one person uncomfortable with Driarco in the parish it is no other than the Mayor himself. By all means, Driarco represents a barrier to a promising career in the province of the ruthless politician.
"The mayor's political ambition should not be allowed to go on unabated. The more he's staying in the office, the longer the impunity he gives; the stronger he holds on to his power, the greater the suffering of the people, killing innocent taxpayers and opponents and milking government coffers clean and dry," the young priest thought.
"His hunger for power should be stopped," he added.
"But how?" Now that he has bloated his resources through various expansions of his business empire in the province. Vengeance is mine, says the Lord. True, but probably after justice has been served to his father's death. When? I have to see yet the dawn of day rising in this parish. The Lord knows 'when?' By then reconciliation would be coming in the end, which he thought was the proper clincher.
As a parish priest, he had been preoccupied dispensing the seven sacraments. In between, he would always find time to visit the sick in the hospital saying mass, hearing confessions, and to those who are in dire need, extending extreme unction. He would also visit the prison and do the same providing the necessary lift from following up on their long-delayed cases to organizing them into viable groups for economic development.
Dishing out fiery homily lately still sticks in his mind. Probably because of the hangover he still had on the fate of his late father whose spirit now coming alive with his work as the new parish priest of the municipality. Sometimes dishing out sermons has been mechanical to Fr. Driarco precisely he balanced what he preaches from what he works on as a reality check. Or he would-be victim of an identity crisis, a malady suffered by many in such profession.
"Homily is good but working out what you say is better. Walk your talk in other words. However, practicing or living what you preach is the best," he was awakened
facing the reality.
Evening mostly finds Fr. Driarco glued on his Remington 150 typewriter completing the synthesis of his first three years of work as a parish priest.
"It's better putting ideas into print. It's the safest way preserving incisive dreams for the church today," so thought Driarco thinking of the vast experiences he had in the parish dragging him almost to issues beyond his duty unsolicited. Ironically, that is easy to be acculturated but could not easily get rid of.
Fortunately, the more challenge he meets, the more his sagging spirit buoys up. "Taklin was right. Priesthood is the start of the road towards Calvary," he recalled his good friend back then. How an ordinary priest could manage to slip away from the abuses perpetrated against his flock is up to his ingenuity. Who could help him anyway when charged against the wall if not the same people he served! The list is long. If he would take the cudgel for and on behalf of his people, what would they say? Who shall set them free?
"Did Christ not command His priests to liberate them from all forms of the bondage of sin," he said defending their cause.
"Let those who have no sin be the first to throw stones against us" which could probably be translated as 'those who are criticizing us should be the first to eat their own words first.
"It's not our making to be hyphenated priests. The people are. They just can't go to the police, the Mayor, and other officials of the community they perceived as part of that big family confiding their problems without fear."
"Subsequently, spilling of beans and skeletons from their closets to the community are revealed. And what if the Mayor and his henchmen continue wreaking havoc against the people of the community he served?"
. . . . . . . . . .
Such was the case of five priests murdered one after the other unceremoniously. Thus, the names of Frs. Malig, Rutas, Lagila, Novala and Maknil, and countless others.
Fr. Malig run counter against a powerful Petrofil multi-company; Fr. Rutas against illegal logging syndicate notably politician and military; Fr. Lagila, against a Mayor who raped an innocent parishioner and Fr. Novala, against an abusive military officer who manhandled and in the end, killing innocent suspects; Fr. Maknil, against local official fabricating their witnesses, including no less than his sacristan, charging him of masterminding an ambush staged against Mayor in broad daylight yet. Adding the long lists Driarco could recall was Fr. Buenaflor, murdered by a lone hired assassin killing him instantly point-blank hitting his temple while riding a motorcycle. His only sin – joining Sta. Isabel workers' rally lobbying for additional compensation and other benefits the construction firm accrued them. Effective fertilizers for the earth, what the culprit and Mayor Torres accounted for their effort in silencing these restless voices of dissent.
These what Fr. Driarco learned from the barbarity of the Mayor excluding those who have been forgotten let alone their cause buried with them in their graves. They too excluded many others who were once into similar sensitive work. Laymen, pastors, and other ordinary church workers mysteriously vanished leaving without any trace. Add the list of those silent voices killed before they could even speak out about issues on their minds – the farmers, student leaders, labor union leaders, teachers and students' ordinary mortals like housewives and fishermen, and many others. Altogether, their voices had not been stifled by Powers-that-be would have constituted and registered hundreds of decibels that could have destroyed Marcos, his twelve Martial Law apostles' and local counterpart eardrum. Sad to say the strength of the monster was stronger than their collective voices combined. It is unfortunate indeed, published by a well-read national daily that their voices vanished like balloons into the thin air before they reached Filipino consciousness.
Such was the picture showing a grim scenario of Lakay Apo's baby-making its toll on the Diocese. Everything was just possible under the merciless sun whoever and wherever people were. It was just a question of time and timing. The killing machine through its vicious accomplices is restless wandering around in search of any victims. Who could that be that it follows where Fr. Driarco is? Parishioners, parents, friends, and other concerned citizens were cautioned on the restlessness prevailing anew. Like the Passover event, there are even similar words printed on each residence's main door as a mantra for driving away uninvited roaming Grim Reaper reported lately victimizing innocent people. Who facilitated this phenomenon causing fear and trembling among innocent parishioners causing panic if not the handiwork of Evil, an effective antics of Lakay Apo's paid operatives?
"Fear the Lord. Do not cause any misfortune into this home!" signage was thus adopted by families installed in the main door driving away unwanted evil spirits visiting every home. Normally done late in the evening sending fear and trembling among residents, it had somehow provided a temporary lift. But for Fr. Driarco, people should do the necessary precaution. No way for the occult-like war of nerve.
"The Lord is an Almighty. No one beats His power. Not even Satan. Face your fear if ever there is one. That's the only way to do it!" he said.
. . . . . . . . . . .
"Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing," Fr. Driarco would hum breaking the ice of his reflection on the fate of restlessness pervading anew the environment in his new parish.
"When would they ever learn, when would they ever learn," he sang with Mayor Torres in his mind. Indeed when?
"While there is still time to do or when we were buried into the ground becoming additional fertilizers anew to the earth.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Meanwhile, the Mayor and his cohorts have been busy consolidating their forces for a possible ticket in the ruling Marcos Kilusang Bagong Lipunan seeking reelection as Mayor of his municipality.
"No guts, no glory," he justified with renewed spirit resolved in winning anew his old post seek. No fear too was his new political battle cry. His bank book incidentally would reveal how much he's worth these days giving him a great chance of pulling out another victory in the forthcoming election. How could one possibly win anyway in Philippine politics if he has no means?
"Money, money, and money," that's what all the people needed during the election, he bragged to his quarters.
. . . . . . . . . . .
"He's finally back," said the Mayor to Baldo.
"Wanting maybe to follow his father's graveyard Boss."
"By all means, if he intends to cross our path."
"By all indication, it seems he does."
"Then, it would be the end of the road for him. God bless Him."
"And may He rest in peace, his soul whiter than snow."
Thus, said the Mayor to Baldo wanting to wipe out the remnants of Mang Clineo from the face of Esperanza's political landscape. Theirs' was the swiftest sorties establishing a plot on how to add Driarco to their list of a target.
"Some people are just meant to be used," the Mayor thought his laughter reverberating within the four walls of his private room.
. . . . . . . .
As usual, Esperanza leapfrogged into the busiest first-class municipality teeming with trade, commerce, and industry. It could be one of the best covers maybe of the dreaded incident paving the way for an election a few months more. The general public might forget the miserable and bloodiest event in their municipality with them left in the dark about the real incident but not for Driarco, Danny, Jojo, the Mayor, and his henchmen knowing how the death was delivered clean.
Jojo, the star witness of the incident was already back in the municipality. He joined his former friend now his boss in the parish doing house chores and assisting in the celebration of holy masses. When would be the time of reckoning, Jojo is yet to be out in the open to speak out the truth in Court? But the good priest weighing all possibilities decided not to settle it yet in court for the meantime.
"You know what? When you complain about an issue out of goat in a Court you would end up arguing about a cow. We are better judges in other words than those in any RTC Sala controlled by the Mayor," the priest said stunning Jojo.
"Besides, if you don't have the means, better not elevate any issue in Court. The more it would be at your disadvantage," Fr. Driarco continued impressing upon his good friend and sacristan on how to handle their cause.
"Crime does not pay. The Mayor is just like any other mortals. He's not clothed with invincibility. He will have his day full later."
Digressing from the topic.
"Wonder if you ever heard of an Indian philosophy Karma,"
"Nope," Jojo answered.
"Golden rule,"
"Yes."
"Then, it's all similar save that karma transcends the boundary of mutual concern down to our earliest roots."
"Mang Clineo, you mean a victim of karma."
"Not sure. Maybe his father's great grandfather exacted blood from somebody else."
"And bingo, Mang Clineo's blood was taken as repayment in return."
"As a sacrifice. But I'd like to go beyond that concept of karma."
"What it is?"
"Love what else. You get me - love."
"But some are not that lovable."
"Then you don't have any other alternative left than to accept them what and they are."
"Like the good Mayor."
"He's beyond acceptance," Fr. Driarco twisted the issue.
"Should be hated more instead."
"Maybe yes because he is abusing the word 'love'."
Jojo acceded. When you kill people, rob them blind, abuse their innocence, and all that degrading their personality, you don't deserve to be loved.
"Precisely, we have the constitution to safeguard Juan's liberty, security, and all other basic rights without which man's existence is incomplete," he learned.
Not all day is that rosy to Fr. Driarco. Once he contracted dreaded malaria and all the while was thinking that it would postpone forever his birthday while recuperating in a provincial hospital. He looked like a zombie later coming out from the hospital after that dreaded disease drained him of his vitality.
"Thanks to my good appetite allowing my fast recovery," he declared to himself
grinning recalling the dreaded incident.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Sleeping one night in the convent, he dreamed of charging the Mayor with a Batangas knife slashing the Mayor's belly the intestines protruding dangling out from the politician's breadbasket blood spurting out into the ground driving the poor politician crazy begging for dear life. But before he could thrust the fatal blow, Jojo woke him up.
"Sorry, father but I have to wake you up because you just shouted your decibel too shrilled was piercing my eardrum."
He was panting catching his deep bated breath waking up from what was seemingly a nightmare. Rising from the bed, he wondered how he could go that far. Falling on his knees, he prayed fervently invoking enough strength not to fall into that temptation taking the law into his own hands. But the more he struggled for enlightenment, the more he was drawn into the commission of crime losing completely himself his grip of reality disoriented. It's only after fixing his eyes on the innocent face of Mother Mary did, he recovered his composure.
"The choice is yours," the Blessed Mother seems to be saying.
"Christ has suffered that much for our sins. Please don't add more suffering to Him, "her words echoing as he gazed at the crucifix atop an altar.
"Must be dreaming again," he said deciphering the message he got.
"Was the Blessed Virgin telling it to the Mayor through me?"
"Or is she simply giving the message leaving him to read between the lines taking them at face value?"
Looking back again at the altar in his room, he glanced at the little receptacle securely encasing the cylindrical bottle its tip pointed about five inches tall. It resembles the needle Mary Magdalene used during the ministry of Jesus. But how it looks deadly sans the leather jacket among Tibetan needle appears more deadly and menacing. No wonder it was considered a secret weapon among Tibetans back then. As if in a trance, the needle in a small glass container weaved magic beckoning him to free itself out from its receptacle. The urge to open it was there and simply irresistible.
"Why not?" taking the small bottle containing his rare discovery and having it poked gradually getting closer into his eyes. As if hypnotized, he took it out and freeze both its end between his middle finger and thumb.
"You want to go back to your owner," he whispered as if in a trance possessed by irresistible force under a Satanic spell answering that inkblot of family history calling for vengeance. It was only after putting it back in the bottle that he restored peace and sanity. From there, he was wide awake till daybreak probably making the devil advocate happy at that moment imbuing the innocent priest's sense of revenge.
Before he knew it, the cock crows auguring another brand-new day. Soon the bell tolled merrily inviting the parishioners for a celebration of another Holy Eucharist. Surprisingly, the Mayor was there among early churchgoers occupying the first pew yet. With him were Baldo, Bobo, and the rest of his men. From the altar, Fr. Driarco alerted by the suspicious presence of the mayor and henchmen, didn't take any chances. He had his mind focused occasionally on the group; his eyes on the bible on the table. Underneath is another bible. Inside this bible is a .38 Magnum caliber safely encased in its customized what looked like bible pages ripped away open in the middle.
"Careful. This should not be taken for granted as man is still the best resource on earth. What good do economic resources bring, if the goal of these resources is taken out from the equation?" The young priest cleared.
"At least I could make it even when the time comes. Protection for oneself? God understands this!" he quipped as the liturgy of the word continued.
But nothing happened after the final benediction was said.
. . . . . . . . . . .
The more Fr. Driarco has become conscious of his security being more defensive now.
"It's time to the devil," he said with great resolve.
"When would I play with devils when I finally scratch from the face of the earth?"
This must be the natural reaction of the practical person to be always on guard given sensitive situations brought about by military rule. It's sad but what happened to Redemptorist priest Fr. Rudy Romano is still fresh on his mind. It's many decades now since the young priest's abduction after he left trouble-shooting his car in Cebu City. The occasion was irresistible. More than fixing his car, he would be fixing some issues in a forum. But he didn't arrive at the meeting because he was forcibly abducted by some men while on his way. He was never seen again after that incident.
And who could not have goosebumps learning that his batchmate then at St. Andrews Theological Seminary at QC was brutally murdered in his parish receiving 7 stabs wound all over his body? It's complicated because there seems to be a robbery angle to consider. But knowing the work of Bishop Alberto Ramento in social work, activism, grassroots, farmers, and labor the circumstances of a deliberate effort to silence him are strong. Or maybe it could be both. Who knows? Earlier, his priest Fr. William Tadena was also killed helping Hacienda Luisita farmers. Both incidentally belong to Iglesia Filipina Independiente or Aglipayan Church. Fr. Driarco could only sigh in disbelief whatever happened that the IFI, a product of the 1898 Revolution fighting oppressive and partial treatment of Roman Catholic Church is now subject to persecution.
"What a message the government is sending to the Church? No less the Supreme Head of IFI was silenced?", the young priest could not accept.
"Philippines has bigger Catholic believers but look how the persecution were orchestrated putting us much worse than Nicaragua. Where is our sense of history?" Fr. Driarco could only shout of protest relating how violence also erupted in that Latin American country Bishop Oscar Romero was right also killed while celebrating Mass in a Cathedral and Cardenal brother-priests liquated on top of several sisters also harassed and killed.
(OM Alberto B. Ramento and IFI Clergy, laity and congregation staging street rally seeking for justice. Source: Microsoft Bing. Retrieved 07-19-22)
Bp. Ramento was his contemporary at St. Andrew's Theological Seminary. He took Bachelor's Degree in Theology and Bp. Ramento, taking a shorter course of Licentiate in Theology. He has not seen his friend he remembers as highly energetic seminarian, clean-shaven but skeletal given his small fragile body. He was by the way elected as Obispo Maximo IX, the ninth OM after Bishop Gregorio Aglipay, the founder of Aglipayan Church. You could just imagine the influence he waged on people. Fr. Driarco could only sigh in disbelief whatever happened that the IFI, a product of the 1898 Revolution fighting oppressive and partial treatment of Roman Catholic Church is now subject to persecution and now its Supreme Head was silenced.
Bishop Gregorio Aglipay, an erstwhile Filipino Catholic priest before he and Isabelo de los Reyes ceded from the Vatican established distinct Catholic Filipino Church standing proudly today continuing the salvation history of its people. It was said that roughly 25% of the Filipino Roman Catholic population joined the movement reason that this free Catholic Filipino Church has survived and continuously reaped membership all over the country building beautiful Cathedrals and churches today. There was a wholesale Excommunication for the members of this Church but it didn't affect that much because of the Church's Independence in running the spiritual mission of its members.
(Rhee Timbang, the present Supreme Bishop of IFI. Source: Microsoft Bing. Retrieved 07-20-22)
Today IFI still remains a strong pillar of freedom, truth, justice, and independence albeit the persecution and red-tagging of its politically charged active priests. With the good leadership of the present Supreme Bishop Rhee Timbang, the Church has grown leaps and bound. Many young men were attracted to the priesthood. Most specially, it has elevated the status of women into the Diaconate, priesthood and Bishop. Her Excellency Bp. Dacuycoy of Bulua, Cagayan de Oro City is its pioneering woman Bishop.
(Supreme Bishop Ephraim S. Fajutagana, XII (Right) and Bishop Ronel Fabriquer (Left) of Diocese of Romblon and Mindoro. Source: Microsoft Bing. Retrieved 07-19-22)
Fr. Driarco was proud too that Osigan has produced the XII'th Obispo Maximo in Ephraim S. Fajutagana, DD. Bishop Ronelio Fabriquer, the present Bishop of Romblon and Mindoro or ROOM under Osigan has been setting a blistering pace in his missionary work church planting everywhere. The enhanced beautiful and majestic Cathedral of St. Vincent Ferrer shows it all how far his leadership contributed to the vision a of truly free and independent Filipino Catholic Church.
(Source: IFI, Diocese of Romblon and Mindoro, Cathedral of St. Vincent Ferrer, Odiongan, Romblon. Retrieved 07-17,2022)