In the Priests’ School for Asia, we were all challenged to experience God as a Father. Most of us Filipinos were not close to our fathers and this was true in my case too. Fr. Toni Weber who was that time in charge, asked us to really consider God as our father and believe in his divine providence, thus entrusting everything to Him. I was really challenged to make this experience become a reality for me as well.

We also learned to work with one another and to consider all as brothers. However, differences in personality, culture, background and our ways of understanding cropped up naturally in every situation. With these differences among us, we really needed to deny our own selves in order to understand what to do when we took turns in cooking, or singing, or had to decide which experiences to share with the people coming to visit us on Sundays. It was really a moment for humbling ourselves and making ourselves one with the others.

Then, every Saturday we visited the barrios (villages) to give catechism classes. Divided into groups, we would visit far flung villages for catechesis, and we would always remind each other of that phrase of the Gospel: “By this, they will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” Going to the villages, we had to speak the dialect of the local people. One time, assigned to a particular village, I had to accompany a Thai seminarian who didn’t know the dialect. I asked the priest who had assigned us, “What is he going to do there? He doesn’t know the language.” Then a thought came to me; “He wants to love.” He would be there to listen and to assure me of his love. So we went there and taught catechism to the children. Though he didn’t understand what I was telling the kids, he was there to make himself one with the others, and was ready to love. Happy and confident while teaching the kids, I was thus assured of the unity of my Thai brother.

On Sundays, we were assigned to give homilies during the Masses. So, on Saturday evenings or earlier, we would get together to share ideas in preparation for the homily. We were guided by that phrase of the Gospel: “When two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst.” Remembering that we were not alone, but that Jesus was in our midst if we loved each other, every Sunday was always a discovery: the homily became very engaging and creative, because it was the fruit of Jesus in our midst.

In my ministry, I’ve really learned that I need to build unity and that love should always characterize my work.

“That all may be one”—with this phrase to live by, I wanted to constantly build unity with everybody. Once, while working in the museum and also in a bookshop, I had a conflict with another priest over the design of the museum. I couldn’t give up my idea and I thought that he, too, couldn’t give up his. But then, I recalled that, “It is better to be less perfect but do things in unity, than to do things perfectly without unity.” I had to humble myself and even give up my idea. And so, I surrendered my idea and raised the white flag.

But after raising the flag, I realized that this could mean that I just gave in to his idea but the unity with him had not yet been built, and that I needed to re-establish my friendship with him again. I also needed to communicate that love to him, and not avoid him. I should greet him and restore the friendship that had been lost. It all ended very well—the museum turned out to be very, very beautiful after we adopted his idea, and we continued his design for our store as well.

I’ve learned that making the experience of God as a Father is always very important in our lives.

Now, as a formator in the seminary, I’m challenged myself to be a real father to my seminarians—more than being a disciplinarian and a prefect, and more than being an instructor.

That’s why even when I teach music, I always remind myself that I’m not simply a musician, but I can also be a father who is firm yet loving. I have to accompany the seminarians on their journey, and, as a father, I should listen to them without any immediate judgments.

I soon will be celebrating my fifteenth anniversary as a priest and have decided that in my homily that day, I will answer the question, “What is Paradise for me?” Paradise for me should be like this simple note written by one of my students: “Father, I spent my vacation at home and going back home will always remind me of you.” I guess he has discovered a father too. And this, for me, is paradise.

Fr. Carlo Magno Marcelo