Invisible Wounds

The boys that I work with in Don Bosco Boys Home are not the regular type of boys. Most of them come from dysfunctional families and even some have nothing to call a family. The experiences that I hear from them dwarf the little hassles that I went through growing up. Call it strange, I admire the courage the boys possess in facing life and struggling against the torrent of misfortunes.

You'd see them now smiling with eyes twinkling but behind these lie the still unsaid burdens that no one could hear unless one listens.

I gave one afternoon talk before them and advised them to be careful with their words. Wounds from verbal abuse run deep and all of them know it. The body could recover from a bruise but the heart could not, no, not even through time. All of us have our own share both in the receiving and giving ends of verbal warfare but how much time do we give ourselves in thinking twice before the next flurry of hurting words come out of our mouths?

I had to take aside one boy one afternoon. Apparently he was teased and bullied and he didn't know just how to express the anger building inside him. All he could do is run away from the situation and unload his frustrations unseen. I felt pity for him and I tried cheering him up with a glass of buko juice. But I also felt pity on those bullies who, unbeknownst to them, are just repeating the very things they had received from badmouthing and insult.

It's all a cycle of hurts that must simply stop. To react is to add to the momentum of the wheel of hate and everyone is run down by everyone's hate. It is pathetic, humanity killing itself by passing to the next person the hurts no one wants to receive.

Healing starts only by the truthful acceptance of the hurt. By this we become human.

But healing is completed by the selfless act of forgiveness and love. By this we become divine.

Storm? What storm?

It's 3:42 in the afternoon and the sky is all golden with the clouds basking in the afternoon sunshine. The trees still have their mighty bows and the ground is dry. Seems to me the typhoon Pablo or Bopha has never passed by Cebu.

The weather forecast and hush-hush built up a gloomy and almost apocalyptic preview of what's to come with Pablo. Science people were stating that this is the most powerful typhoon to hit the Philippines this year. While we were anxiously anticipating the arrival of Pablo, the weather was actually calm, the rain moderate since yesterday. The heavens resembled more the monsoon season than a Filipino Frankenstorm.

The boys were pestering me since yesterday asking questions like, "Has it come yet?". However, except for the cold damp wind and moderate winds yesterday lunch time there was nothing stormy about it. We are thankful that the storm did not lash out its fury on Cebu. Our hearts go out however to the people of Mindanao who took the beating most as they lay directly on the storm's destructive path.

We have been praying for the community of Don Bosco Mati who were the first to "welcome" the storm into Philippine soil.

After all the storms that passed through the Philippines in my lifetime nothing is more memorable to me than Ruping which hit Cebu hard.

The increasing strength of tropical cyclones however is worrying and indicative of climate change. Nothing is more fearsome than UN's chief saying that extreme weather conditions are the new 'normal'.

Drops, not Hammers and Chisels

There are many ways to get to a certain place. You could take the usual path or the short cut or the longest path. You have the choice in how to make your journey for as long as you arrive in your destination. Though we differ in good methodology, we have the same right goal.

When a boy remarked to me this afternoon that I couldn't do what a fellow worker did in order to exact discipline, he had me thinking. The strict and cold commandeering voice ruthlessly putting lines in order for fear of punishment is something different from the approach I have been using these past few months in dealing with the boys. They must have noticed it well to see the difference of how fast the boys answer my call to discipline that what they have just witnessed.

Don't get me wrong. I am not a sassy, pleading, and poor-me type of disciplinarian. I have my own version of firm in the kind-but-firm love. My childhood experience and my admiration of Don Bosco's style of education makes me adhere to the principle of firm loving-kindness.

The tradition of military discipline and of corporal punishment seems to have its deep mark and lasting influence. The educator uses fear to command and the student waits for fear before obeying. It is a stigma to both sides which needs patient correction over time. It is very un-Salesian.

St. John Bosco used fear too, but not the kind of fear that estranges educator from pupil. His was the holy fear of God which builds on the love for the beloved and the desire to please the beloved. It is a fear, quite different, that springs from love. It is a different method that takes more time and invests more energy. But it its fruit is also lasting and truly formative.

Great, huge, and solid rocks are not broken down easily by hammers and chisels. Surprisingly, it only takes drops of water constantly falling on a rock over a long period of time which breaks a boulder. The result are not rugged and ragged edges but smooth and flowing curves. In the same way, hardened hearts are not softened by fear but by gentleness and love.

When I was confronted with the question, "Brother, can you do what so-and-so did? I bet you can't", I was fighting with myself. Of course I can but I won't. I won't use fear to exact discipline but I would coach have the boys think and decide for their own. My method is to coach them into internalizing discipline, not imposing it on them. I don't want boys who'd jump at the chance of doing foolishness when conditions allow but I want boys who and are convince when and how to act properly.

I cannot but admit that the results are not immediate. You cannot easily expect them to behave as you desired because the change is not external but internal. The Salesian education aims at the heart and it takes time and patience. It is a journey with the young that imitates the love of the Good Shepherd.

Yes, it is frustrating to see that the boys still haven't learned. When will they? How much time must it take? But I live by faith and not by sight. In the same way that my educators placed their faith in God, in gentleness and kindness, and in me, I do the same for the boys entrusted to me.