A Burning Candle for

President Cory’s and

Our Nation’s Health
An Itinerant’s Prayer
A Burning Candle for
President Cory’s and
Our Nation’s Health
An Itinerant’s Prayer

Hi! It’s been a long time since I’d presented myself with a

burning candle and knelt before you, Father. When was the last time I

kept myself quiet and grounded? When was the last time I visited you

in your church? And oh, what’s the name again of that pastor your

bishop sent to us here? My mind seems dusty these days. I’m sorry

about it; been preoccupied doing this and that. I know you understand

my restlessness and rebellious heart. I won’t abuse your kindness

though. Just give me some time to while the time; there’s something

I’ve wanted to grasp but can’t. I thought I’ve already snatched it. I’m

mistaken. I think there’s a civil war happening inside myself.

But that’s not the reason why I’m praying to you again, my Lord.

There are a lot of troubling things going on that are far more

important than my selfish miseries—things that if left unattended to

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would turn catastrophic. Precisely that I’m running back to you to ask

for your help.

As you’ve already heard them, people are becoming just like me,

restless and rebellious. But unlike me, they’ve been turning to you in

groups and in throng holding and hearing healing masses for dear Tita

Cory. You’ve canalized their restlessness and angry hearts to unify

them through that humble woman’s struggle. You’ve made them one

again just as in the streets of Metro Manila during the last days of

Martial Law, just like in EDSA in 1986. How wonderful you are!

And what a maidservant of yours Tita Cory is! She’d been your

one instrument that channeled what could have been a bloody civil war

into a peaceful rebirth of democracy in our land. She’d been a voice in

the wilderness, like the prophets of old, just like John the Baptist

calling on those in power to mend their ways. She’s been a constant

companion of our people in their struggle for liberation from the

untruthfulness pervading in our society today. Now, you’ve made her

again share in the redemptive suffering of Bro as she endures the bed

of pains. By her suffering you’re uniting once again the rich and the

poor, the young and the old, the soldiers and the priests, the

executives and the laborers, the conservatives and the liberals, the

politicians and the radicals, the nuns and the prostitutes. Her bodily

state is fragile yet such fragility is so strong and enamoring to

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summon the indifferent out of his apathy to join hands with the rest in

the many communal gatherings done in your Name and Godself.

In the same manner, O Lord, that I’m turning to you today! Sure

it is with string attached; but aren’t all prayers having string attached

in them? Oh, pardon my logic. You see, there are a lot of things I’ve to

understand. But that’s not my point, my Lord.

I’ve heard my nation’s cry of pain. I’ve wanted to do something

about it. Yet I’m just feeling so helpless. I’m no superman. Tita Cory

came to our rescue. She tried to speak out the truth but her voice was

muffled in the marketplace of propaganda, where the amplified voices

of sophistic charlatans with their doctrines of half-truths encased in

brown envelops have successfully distracted our people from hearing

the whistle blowing and exposés by those who can’t stomach

corruptions in the present administration. Now, she too is in pain.

My collaborations have failed to bring out the desired effect, my

Lord. I’m drained and frustrated. I’m alone in the wilderness by

Nineveh. My shepherds have left me wandering about in the dessert of

life. No, I elected to wander about as my shepherds betrayed my

people. Let me be for a while. Let me complete the quadragesimal

journey along the highways of life.

Strangers taunted me to sing songs of your glory. “But how

could I sing the praises of the Lord in an alien land?” How could I join

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hand with them in supplications when they know not my people, nor

they care about my land and my dear Tita Cory? The only power left

in me is a heart of dying embers of faith and hope. I pray, fan it back

to life. Fan it at first with gentle breeze to revive it and then with such

gustiness that it may be aflame with zeal for your Truth, O Father.

But more than that, will it be not too much to ask you to give

Tita Cory and our country, beds of roses instead? She’d suffered

enough just as our people have suffered much. It is just a matter of

time to see them march the streets again chanting, “Tama na, Sobra

na! Ramdam na randam na talaga ang kahirapan! Palitan na!”

As I bid you goodbye and in the stillness of my often restless

and rebellious heart, I pray to you, O God, hear the prayers of the

many and diverse hearts conjoined these days for the health of our

dear President Cory and that of our nation. Though I’m miles apart

from them wandering about in exile, let them feel my heart as if a

burning candle praying their prayer, singing their songs, hoping their

hopes for the Filipino nation. For we are one with your Godself through

Jesus, our Lord, and the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete.

Amen.