The Bishops: Ms. Teresa R. Tunay, OCDS

       

 

   What a Wonderful Lord's Day (Sunday, September 21, 2014) I encountered an inspiring article own by Ms. Teresa Tunay, OCDS the article posted as an opinion column in CBCP Monitor of Catholic Bishops Conference in the Philippines.Indeed the article inspired me, coming the information of an article to 100% Katolikong Pinoy Facebook Fanpage.

Bishops are one of the most misunderstood persons in the Catholic Church.  Add to “misunderstood”—maligned, hated, feared, abhorred, mistrusted, detested, dreaded, plus all the synonyms of those horrible adjectives.  They are loved, but they are seldom truly loved—loved for the person they really are minus the trappings, not loved for the favors they can grant as “princes of the Church”.

It’s a pity, because bishops can also be the most wonderful treasures an ordinary believer can encounter in the Church, if we but try to look at them through the eyes of compassion, the eyes of Jesus.  Beneath that formidable veneer of glory and power are persons both holy and human—vulnerable and persevering, struggling to forgive and to love all equally, battling temptations to vanity—totally dependent on God’s mercy to see them through all the demands imposed on their person by the miter and the staff.

They may not always look it, but bishops are down to earth beings who are aware that one day when all the pomp and circumstance have turned to thin air, nothing will be left of themselves but skeletons in their tombs.  From a distance, all skeletons look the same.  In essence, all skeletons are the same—reminders of a life once lived.  Thus, bishops stand naked and empty before God and strive to be filled with gratitude and grace to do what they have been called to do.

Media in general have not been empathetic to bishops, while enemies of the Church tend to judge the bishops’ pronouncements, actions, and even intentions with little or no regard for context.  Little do they know that many of the bishops’ acts of love are hidden from the public eye.  For instance, one bishop—who on the day of his episcopal ordination vowed to surrender all the money he would receive to the diocesan coffers—has kept his vow, turning over to the chancery all cash and checks, even those meant as “personal gifts.”  His reason is “Transparency—anyway I can always ask for any amount I need to do my job.  I need not keep anything for myself.  This way everybody knows where the money goes.”

Another bishop chooses to bear the contempt of his family and relatives who tend to see him as a stepping-stone to prestige and financial comfort.  Aware that his ordinary charity could be abused by relatives, he sets family aside in order to be fair to his flock.  It is quite a struggle he is at times tempted to give up because “Family is family whichever way you look at it, and when everybody has turned their back on you there’s your family who’ll be there for you, but no, I must tell myself that when I accepted my vocation I was aware that from then on I must not give blood relatives special treatment.”

Perhaps one of the hardest things for a bishop to fight is the temptation to pride engendered by being regarded like a king by his people.  In his diocese, a young bishop realized, he was expected to say the last word, to sit at the presidential table of any event, to be the guest whose presence was a blessing in any occasion.  He was always the center of attention, the most wanted person around (although not always by the priests); everybody (including the priests) laughed at his jokes even if he himself knew they were corny.  This bishop was well aware of it early on when he was practically smothered with gifts, attention, adulation, and praises unlimited from politicians and female fans.  He knew that if such an environment was allowed unchecked, the ego massage it offered could entrap him to the point of no return. 

This young bishop then took it upon himself to go incognito on occasion, to experience the anonymity of being a man on the street in Manila.  Putting away his Roman collar, his ring, pectoral cross, and expensive watch (a gift), he donned an ordinary polo shirt and nondescript pants and took the jeepney to Tondo, intending to “go on retreat” by serving the male wards at Mother Teresa’s Home for the Dying Destitute.  Lunch found him eating with the tricycle drivers at a sidewalk “turo-turo”—fried hasa-hasa and rice with free sinigang soup, served in plastic dishes and with spoon and fork soaked in hot water. 

At the Home, where the nuns unwittingly took him in as a regular volunteer, he was asked what dialect he could speak as the male wards usually needed someone to talk to in their own dialects.  For quite some time he lent his ear to a man old enough to be his father and who spoke only Cebuano.  Then the man, perhaps feeling at home with a “kababayan” and noticing his clean cut head, asked if he was a soldier or a policeman.  The bishop said “No, I’m a teacher.”  The old man said he wanted to urinate, and told the bishop to get a portable urinal in the toilet.  After being assisted by “the teacher” to relieve himself, he nonchalantly told the bishop to empty the urinal and wash it.  On the bishop’s way back to the old man’s bedside, four other wards asked for the same assistance; the bishop helped them all, emptied and washed a total of five urinals—maybe the most humbling yet joyful 15 minutes of his life.

There are many more acts of faith, courage, love and humility that our bishops have done with God as their only witness.  In His own way and His own time, God allows His people a glimpse into the fruits of such acts.  Meanwhile, we continue to give our bishops due respect, to examine our own weaknesses that lead them to err in judgment, to trust in God’s mercy to set things aright.  Indeed, heavy is the head that wears a miter, and bound is the hand that holds the shepherd’s staff.  Always we pray that our bishops may never be too tired to pray, that after attending to a myriad concerns, they may see their private chapels as the arms of God waiting to embrace them in silence and solitude at the end of each day.  And that’s the truth.

Source:  http://teresatunay.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-bishops.html?spref=fb