by Abraham de la Torre
MY FORAY INTO the Catholic church was highly influenced by a deep desire to find the characters in my books in the lives of church people.
My friend John (Diocson) was the very first person to gift me with a book, “A Woman Wrapped in Silence,” by John W. Lynch. It is a haunting narrative rendered in sonnet form, a pattern I have adopted from the day I finished it up until my present poetic pieces. Lynch’s lyrical verses hinge close to St. Alphonsus Liguori’s poignant account of Christ’s passion and ressurection in his book on the same.
That Kuya Ross (Evardone) struck me as a serious speaker who could shuttle comfortably from sober to silly and vice-versa confirmed the observation as fact in the many more PREX talks he delivered after my initial audience with him on November 9, 2009. The first book he gave me was “TheLife of Jesus” the Christmas after I graduated from PREX Class Number 9. On it he wrote, “May the infant Jesus stand by you when you are down and out, guide you when you think of quitting, inspire you when things seem confusing. God knows and sees.” I never doubted his gift of gab. I was dumbstruck by his insight.
On September 26, 2010, he gave me another book, “The Imitation of Christ” by Thomas a Kempis with the dedication “And for the million and one things that you’ve been to me, I thank God for you.” Then on September 12, 2013, his gift was “Blessed John Paul the Great” because he happened to be at this bookstore and thought I’d like it. On the book, authored by Fr. Arockiasamy Sagayatham, he wrote, “Blessed be God in His angels and in His Saints.” At Christmas again that same year, his present was another account of the Blessed Pope, authobiographical this time, entitled “Rise, Let Us be on Our Way.” Now a saint, the great pontiff continues to sustain my prayer life.
Kuya Ross’ latest benevolence was “The Forge” by Josemaria Escriva, his gift on my 66th birthday. His incsription said, “All for the greater glory of God.” I take time in reading, rereading and reflecting on the Opus Dei founder’s magnum opus.
On December 7, 2010, Kuya Noel and Ate Malou (Tamase) gave me Richard Carlson’s “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff with Your Family.” On the back of its cover, Ate Malou wrote, “Even a saint must be practical, which is not to say that you’re one. Ha-ha!” Well aware that I’m neither saint nor practical, I took the dedication to heart and reaped its many rewards.
My wife Myrna gave me “The Greatest Salesman in the Worl, Book I” by Og Mandino on April 3, 2011. It was followed by our son Alexis’ Christmas cheerio, Simply Christian,”by former Durham Bishop Tom Wright, in 2012. The seminal, spiritual book was described by Anne Rice as “full of generosity and genius.” I’m still struggling with its message of justice, beauty and love.
Our friend, Pastor Joey Umali, handed me “Susunod Ako!” with the benediction “Stay Blessed.” At Christmastime that year, I received the beautiful “A Man’s Guide to Prayer” by Linus Mundy from a dear friend, Stella (Doller). When the day drags and the noise disturbs, I return to it and reunite with quiet. Like the book’s pith, bliss assumes a quality akin to peace
Ate Cecil’s (Legarda) three tokens I perused and enjoyed immensely for varied reasons. “Papabile” by Michael J. Farrell made me thankful I am not a communist and realize I will never be a pope; “Eucharist” by Kenneth Stevenson confirmed I’ll never be a priest; and “The Nolan” by Morton Leonard Yanow rationalized the Inquisition as existential. Her scribbling on the last tome was “This is only for your ‘Thesaurus’,” a private joke.
A most recent acquisition was “Illuminations” by Aramando S. Baltazar, an appreciative offering from the good souls of “Ang Arko ng Pilipinas, Inc.,” of which I have written twice for this website.
In the same manner I can never sufficiently thank the acknowledged givers, a friend, Miles, stands out for the simple reason that she took time to pack her collection into a huge “balikbayan” box and ship it from Canada to me. It’s been quite a while since then and I’m down to the last few shelf pieces.
Doubtless, these generous souls, and their indelible character, will live long after I’ve closed the final book on the shelf. Until I’ve reopened the same shelf to revisit old friends. Why shouldn’t they. When, in moments of study and contemplation, they take turns in jumping out of the pages of the books I have perused and am perusing. Sometimes, they suffice. More than all the fellowshipping in buildings close to the church.
