Overseas assignments await priest graduates
CUM LAUDE Father Prefect Emmanuel Menguito (middle) of DivineWord Seminary-Tagaytay poses with cum laude graduates of the Saksi Class (from left) Fathers Philander Pinalgan, Jonas Piodo, Jerome Ormita and Eric Lacandula. JOEL TEMPLA/CONTRIBUTOR
MANILA, Philippines—He speaks Ilocano, English and Tagalog, with a smattering of Hebrew and Greek.
But now, Fr. Louie A. Luyun, 31, has to learn Japanese, beginning with its three writing systems—katakana, hiragana and kanji—as he prepares for assignment to the Land of the Rising Sun.
Unlike thousands of fresh graduates looking for jobs but more likely to join the swelling ranks of the unemployed, Luyun and eight other SVD confreres who graduated from Divine Word Seminary-Tagaytay (DWST) have their paths set before them.
Founded in 1963, DWST is a school of theology designed to equip missionaries for local and foreign assignments. Most of its students are seminarians from a cluster of 18 autonomous affiliated houses of formation.
Each priest and reverend had already given their top three assignment preferences, even before the SVD Generalate could decide their fate last July.
Happily, many got their top pick. Jay B. Baliao will be working in East Timor; Jonas L. Piodo, in Germany; Eric B. Lacandula, Jonathan B. Ortalla and Philander L. Pinalgan, in Africa; and John Ferdinand M. Cruz, Jerome A. Ormita and Thomas A. Nuwa Wele, in the Philippines.
Most of the 35 priests, deacons and seminarians who completed a four-year ecclesiastical course from DWST had known their assignments long before the March 22 graduation. (This year’s graduates include 29 seminarians with a Bachelor of Arts in Theology and 32 lay and religious sisters from the Certificate of Theological Studies.)
‘It’s a gift’
The missionaries’ assignments may be clear, but the path to it was not so clear-cut.
Luyun, the class valedictorian, said becoming a priest was not part of his plan: “It’s a gift. I never dreamed of becoming a priest—let alone a religious missionary priest.”
Other career opportunities are available. Luyun finished a degree in education at St. Paul University in Tuguegarao City and taught for a year.
His batch mate, Ormita, 38, spent six years teaching. Ortalla, 42, worked in merchandising for 10 years. Cruz, 32, a graduate of the University of Santo Tomas, worked as a civil engineer for two years before entering the seminary.
All of them echoed the same sentiment: discontent with simply working and earning money. They were in pursuit of something more.
In hindsight, Luyun now sees how various experiences in his life had been preparing him for his vocation. As a child, he would tag along with the parish priest to various barrios, despite bad weather, mud and rain.
He was active in the Church as an altar server and choir member.
What started as an initial curiosity about the seminary brought Luyun to full-fledged priesthood.
‘Most wanted’
Priests, like fresh graduate Luyun, are easily the Philippines’ “most wanted,” according to Archbishop Emeritus Oscar Cruz in an interview with the Inquirer in September last year.
In 2004, the ratio of Catholics per priest in the Philippines was 8,500 to 1. The figure ballooned to at least 11,500 to 1 in 2010, an indication that the nation’s Catholic population is growing faster than the number of priests.
The priests in the country, about 9,040 by the end of 2013, are still too few to attend to the spiritual needs of roughly 76 million Filipino Catholics.
Elsewhere in the world, the shortage of priests is shown in the high ratio of Catholics per priest. According to a story in the Boston Globe by renowned Vatican analyst John Allen Jr., the ratio in North America, excluding Mexico, stands at 1,590 to 1. In Africa, it is 4,875 Catholics to every priest; in Central America, 6,894 to 1; in South America, 7,135 to 1; and in Asia, 2,300 to 1.
Allen, speaking at the DWST alumni homecoming to mark the institution’s 50th anniversary on March 12, said Filipinos were the new Irish—the diaspora of Filipino migrants is what is keeping faith communities alive and well in other countries.
“You are the new missionaries, the new evangelists, the new apostles,” Allen said, addressing the DWST audience.
“I am proudly convinced that the future of Catholicism in the 21st century is being worked out in venues exactly like this one. What you are doing is incredibly precious in the eyes of God and it’s incredibly valuable for the rest of us.”
Those words ring true for a good number of the priest graduates of DWST who will soon be in the front lines of this Filipino diaspora, keeping the faith alive around the world.
Proud parents
Like many parents, Jane and Abraham Banawa Sr. are proud and happy to have their son, Arjay, graduate with a Bachelor of Arts in Theology, cum laude. On their son’s journey to the priesthood, Jane said, “That is the choice he made and we support him.”
The Banawas are blessed to have benefactors ease the cost of tuition and board and lodging. But not everyone is as lucky.
Piodo, 29, had to take a one-year leave due to financial constraints. Various factors can come into play and hinder one’s vocation.
According to Archbishop Cruz, seminaries are not producing enough priests to bridge the gap between need and reality. “For every 100 seminarians, only about 10 become priests,” he said.
Moreover, academic pressure can get to seminarians sometimes.
Lacandula, 28, admits to losing motivation and getting tired, especially during their annual comprehensive exams. He cited an instance when he wanted to explore the outside world and be a disc jockey. Ultimately, however, he persevered and graduated magna cum laude.
Priestly challenges
For some, disillusionment, loneliness or loss can be a stumbling block.
In his first month, Ortalla expected a holy atmosphere and holy people, only to find chaos and noise. The next eight years stretched out before him like a less fruitful road and delay in his service.
Luyun initially struggled with homesickness. He would wake up in the middle of the night crying.
Wele and Pinalgan both struggled with their respective mothers’ deaths.
Wele’s mother, Anastasia Tuga, had been the one who encouraged him to enter the seminary. When she died of breast cancer last June, the pain was so overwhelming that he no longer felt he belonged to the SVD community.
“I just wanted to blame everybody,” Wele said.
Pinalgan lost his mother, Carmen, to colon cancer in 2005. Trying to be strong for the family, he kept his grief to himself and almost quit—partly, due to financial concerns, but also subconsciously because of grief.
In the end, they stayed. For Wele, being a priest was a choice he made to be the “good person” his mother had hoped he would be. He asked for prayers so they would keep persevering: “We need prayer.”
Pinalgan got in touch with his grief and visited his mother’s grave to talk to her. But it is his prayer life that keeps him going during moments of crisis, when some problems can be brought only before God.
Having overcome the rigorous in-house, on-the-job training that could range from eight to 11 years, the priest graduates are gearing for specific assignments.
Despite his innate affinity for Japan, Luyun is bracing himself for the challenges of working in a first-world country. He expects the struggle to come from not getting any results to show for his efforts.
“What will I do? … I might spend 50 years there and not experience officiating a wedding or baptizing anyone,” he said.
In addition to a study of the place and language, Luyun emphasizes spiritual preparation—making sure that he is attuned to Christ. This consists of keeping the basics, such as the Liturgy of the Hours and everyday readings for the Mass. Otherwise, he anticipates the risk of becoming dry and empty.
Each one has his own way of preparing. Ortalla eats corn porridge in anticipation of the diet in Botswana, Africa. He does this to condition his stomach.
Baliao, 29, hopes his adaptability—a fruit of frequent moves to different places during childhood—will help him with any challenges that might come his way.
Germany-bound Piodo described his strategy as a ministry of presence—not to be a messiah, but to be a part of the mission in whatever way he can. “Whatever they will give me, whatever they will ask of me, I will do my best,” he said.
For Luyun, it boils down to choice. “Every day is a decision to say yes,” he said. “To be a priest, to be a religious is an everyday decision to say yes to the One who called.”
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