The journey had begun long before I joined the Jesuit Prenovitiate at the Arvisu House. The Jesuit Promotions Team in the Philippines invited young men to attend the Vocation Workshop in December 2001 at the Sacred Heart Novitiate in Novaliches. The workshop was an introduction to the Jesuit religious life. We were aspiring for a calling to the priesthood.

I had already been accepted to the prenovitiate in March 2000, but the circumstances at that time weren’t ideal. The workshop was a refresher. We were assigned into small groups facilitated by the Scholastics whom we called “angels.” Scholastics were Jesuits who were still studying and yet to be ordained, to put it simply. The groupings were similar to the Circle of Love we had at the Children of Mary Immaculate (CoM), an organization. It was a safe space for affirmation and outpouring of love… with some few drops of tears.

The workshop helped me to consider the prenovitiate more seriously and hoped that I would have the strength to tell my family to finally give it a go this time again. After my father died in 2000, our family grew more mature and was financially stable. I prayed for emotional strength to heed His call. I would be staying at Arvisu six days a week and come home to my family on a limited time once a week. My sister was struggling with this partial separation, but I had to “yield to this grace.”

When I was getting ready in the days leading to joining Arvisu House, I showed up like a mendicant at Munting Bukal* in Tagaytay City and stayed there for a few days to pray. On November 10, 2002, I packed and moved to Arvisu House, where I would be living together with thirteen other prenovices. The welcome was very warm and brotherly.
*Little Spring.

Arvisu House Jesuit Prenovitiate was named after a young Filipino Jesuit soldier, Teddy Arvisu, SJ who, against all odds had “yield to this grace.” He was ordained in 1952 but died a few years later with an illness. The prenovitiate’s name was changed to Arvisu House Jesuit Candidacy in the present day.

The Arvisu House was located in Varsity Hills, an upscale subdivision in Quezon City. The streets were properly lit and lined with healthy trees. It was quiet except for tricycles* that took passengers in and out of the subdivision.

*Motorized vehicles with a motorcycle attached to a passenger cab.

The Provincial Superior of the Society of Jesus at that time, Fr. Romeo Intengan, SJ, lived next door. He’s the highest-ranking Jesuit in the country. There were other religious houses in the neighbourhood and a famous actress once lived in the area. She eventually became a Carmelite nun.

Arvisu was the biggest house I’ve had ever lived in, so I told people I had lived in a mansion. The open-air garage could fit two vehicles. The interior was a dormitory. There were conference rooms, offices, a TV room, a computer room, a chapel, and a small library. The house was sometimes too big, and too quiet. The huge living room was used as a gathering hall, a mini-theatre, or an extended dining area to suit any occasion. One afternoon when I came early from work, everyone was out. It was cool, cosy, and smelled of candles and flowers. My steps squeaked and echoed from all the walls. I had goosebumps. I wondered if it had once been a venue for a funeral, but I didn’t want to know at that point. The adjoining server area could be seen through a rectangular window across the living room, and further in was the kitchen. Everything was always clean, tidy, and in its proper places.

My memory of early mornings at Arvisu House was fresh like last night’s rain. I was able to keep my day job while staying at Arvisu. I woke up earlier than most, took a shower, dressed up for work, then headed up to the chapel for morning praise. We made sure no one overslept so we started promptly in silence, music, and recited prayers together. Our prayers in the mornings were very creative like contemplating on many pictures of nature scattered on the floor while we sat around them while listening to sacred music. The meditations were the readings of the day or from a spiritual book of our choosing. I used writings of Hildegard of Bingen, Celtic poems and prayers, and my favourite, songs from the Taizé Community. Life at Arvisu in the days and months that followed were like a prolonged retreat that I wished would never end. A lot of time had been spent in prayer, reflection, which made us all aware of God’s presence in everything, every time.

Breakfast was ready by the time we finished. Tita* Linda cooked meals for us. We were very lucky!
*Aunt.

Most of the time I had to skip breakfast so I could be at my work in time. I was half-running on my way out and jumped on the first tricycle that came by. There were times when I couldn’t get a tricycle, so I had to walk to the next transfer. Another prenovice, now Fr. Ernald, SJ who was also working at that time gave me a lift to my first transfer if our timings allowed. From there, my two-hour commute had begun, the next transfers were crowded and damp with humidity. Jeepneys and Metro Rail Transit brought me to my work at the Philippine Ports Authority at Gate 1 of the Manila South Harbor – my other world.

Work was as secular as could be on weekdays. I arrived at the office sweating and panting just in time to punch-in. Unbeknownst to most of my relatives, only my family and a few others knew about my “other” life. The reality of my daily work, meetings, business trips, and the noise of Metro Manila kept my other foot on worldly success. I was juggling two lives and every moment continued to unfold. I hoped that, in God’s own time, one would lead to my life-long vocation – one that’s dedicated to worldly personal growth, and the other, to “find God in all things.” But was there an in-between? I guess that was the purpose of discernment – finding my truth. I remember someone said that truth could set us free, but first it would make us feel like crazy, to put it mildly. The fruit of discernment came in bursts of thoughts that were mindful and fleeting. It was both experiential and temporary, yet they lingered. It brought me back on the ground and tamed my desires from the ecstasy of prayer.

I was back at Arvisu by 7:30 PM to a scene that was almost the same as when I left that morning – my brothers were having a meal. Being last had some perks as we practised an act of charity to save the “best for the last.” So, I got the best piece of meat or fish for the evening. We cleaned up and washed the dishes together. After dinner, we talked about how our day had been, shared our thoughts and reflections and just about anything. We also had board games and team-building activities. Those who were studying philosophy and other courses did their homework. There was also a lot of personal time, especially for reading and reflection. At about 9 PM, we all went to the chapel for the Examen – a way that St. Ignatius had wanted us to pray. Silence was observed at lights-off until after the next day’s morning prayer.

House chores were part of our routine. We were assigned roles or specialization – laundry-washing, guest-master, plant tend-er, correspondent, historian, beadle, pet keeper, infirmarian, sports organizer, car czar, librarian, IT, marketer (kitchen and groceries), and other coveted pursuits. I was in-charge of the facility upkeep. Our main focus were community, studies, ora et labora,* as the Benedictines would say. Religious orders sometimes borrowed each others’ motto.
*Pray and work.

Fr. Rene, SJ was the Vocation Director at that time. We called him Fr. Rentax, with endearment. He didn’t have as much the charisma of Fr. Eric Eusebio, SJ, the former vocation director, but he’s got the most heart-warming smile in the whole world. He encouraged us to write a journal regularly. It was a struggle for me to build faithfully stick to that habit. I tried to be honest and true especially to myself. I had set my mind and heart to the question that needed the most urgent and all-important resolution: Was I called to become a Jesuit? I wrote down all I could. Writing helped to see patterns in the events of the day, thoughts, observations, insights, and personal reflection. I became aware of the “stirrings of the Spirit” in many ways, and at any ordinary time of the day. My handwritten journal helped me to recall these thoughts like “diamonds in the dust heap” as Virginia Woolf called them, according to Connie Griffin, author of the book To Tell the Truth.

Charity was at the forefront of Ignatian spirituality. On weekends, we drove from Arvisu House to Payatas, a barangay (village) near a garbage dumpsite where many of the poverty-stricken families lived. Many of the residents’ income came from collecting plastic wastes and salvaging anything that they could sell for a few pesos. After Mass, we spent time talking to the families. “Kumusta po, Aling N.?”* I greeted as I entered the living room of one of the residents. “Mabuti naman po, brader, heto madaming anak!”** she smiled as she lifted her baby from the makeshift wooden crib.
*How are you, madame?
**I am doing well, brother, got lots of kids!

This immersive experience could break your heart and the only way to mend it was to raise it in prayer, accept this reality, and resolve to continue doing small acts of kindness. The feeling, memory and penetrating questions lingered for a long time.

The Jesuits nurtured both our intellect and spirit with compassion. Fr. Intengan, SJ encouraged us to never stop striving for perfection and to become martyrs for the Church. Brother Richie Fernando, SJ who died while trying to protect his Cambodian students from an exploding grenade, had been a model for this call. Fr. Tony, SJ, during a short retreat, gave us “prayer points” for reflection about our own desire, and how it aligned with that of Christ. He also touched on the dichotomies of our faith: darkness-light and suffering-consolation. We were introduced to the concept of agere contra*, as well as the idea of Ignatian indifference, as a weapon to counteract unproductive tendencies and consequential guilt. These concepts led us to a deeper thought of right motives and proper dispositions towards the Jesuit community life.
*To act against.

The prenovitiate was indeed a “taste of the Novitiate,” a house of discernment where we contemplated on embracing the life of being a Jesuit. We had conversations, spiritual directions, personality tests, and psychological exams that assessed our psycho-spiritual capacity towards a religious community.
(A side note for my non-Catholic friends: a religious community or Order consisted of priests, brothers, or nuns who promised to be always holy and live their vows forever.)

Our brotherhood was very dynamic, and we had strengthened our bond as a team. We came from different backgrounds, walks of life, and schools so our community was awash with personalities, attitudes, and habits. If there were misunderstandings and petty fights, the issue was treated with utmost civility. We dealt with it in silence and dialogue, prayed about it during the Examen. Healing couldn’t always happen from where the pain began. So, you just had to move on and pray some more that the community life would be a little bit more bearable and better each day. That’s forgiveness.

My mind was transfixed on thoughts of forgiveness and consolation. Just before the week-long workshop, I was looking for a book about the mea culpa of Pope John Paul II, When a Pope Asks Forgiveness. It was something new to me to hear a Pope saying sorry for the historical wrongdoings of Catholics. I was curious and intrigued. I’ve learned from school the Church was infallible. But the Catholics were not. It seemed to me that forgiveness was both personal and religious acts. It was a path to healing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the book at that time. But as a consolation, a friend gave me a portrait of the Laughing Christ. I bet God might have known a joke or two.

Family Day at Arvisu was a major event before Christmas. Relatives and friends came over to see the dances and musicals we had prepared. I remember with special affection that my sister, Nene, was there to enjoy as well. We lip-synced to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, flung our arms and flicked our hands forward and sidewards. We swayed our hips left and right to the delight and deafening applause of our families and friends. Skinny fashion wasn’t a trend yet so you could imagine our shirts and pants looked very comfortable.

There were other special events like cultural nights, sharing our vocations stories, individual conferences with our spiritual directors, catechism, and community meetings. Music and arts were part of our formation. Songs had a way to enforce memory an those times were also punctuated with pop songs, like:

A Thousand Miles – Vanessa Carlton;
Anyone of Us – Gareth Gates;
Complicated – Avril Lavigne;
Dilemma – Nelly/Kelly Rowland;
Get the Party Started – P!nk;
Here I Am – Bryan Adams;
Hey Sexy Lady – Shaggy feat, Brian & Gold; and
Insatiable – Darren Hayes.

We attended events held at the Loyola House of Studies and the Jesuit-run San Jose Major Seminary. Both were on the Ateneo de Manila campus. We mingled with seasoned Jesuits at anniversary celebrations, conferences, funerals, feast days, ordination, and many others. I was very honoured to have met two of the great Filipino liturgical composers. I was delighted to stand next to Arnel Aquino, SJ who was at that time a Scholastic. I was a tad taller than him! I also met Fr. Eduardo Hontiveros, SJ or Fr. Honti as he was called with familiarity and sweetness. Both were remarkably humble and very down-to-earth. I wondered what was in their next hymnal hits. Ever since I could remember, Pananagutan* had echoed in our small, far-flung parish church in Sibuyan Island.
*A hymn of fellowship.

Among my favourite Himig Heswita* songs were:

How Lovely Is Your Dwelling Place;
Mula Sa ‘Yo;
Prayer of Rupert Mayer;
Likhain Mong Muli;
Panginoon Ay Purihin; and many others.
*Jesuit Hymns.

The most awaited day was the last Saturday in March 2003. By that time, all the needed data would have already been gathered and assessed to determine if the candidate was ready for the heavily structured life of a Jesuit. The Provincial Superior was ultimately responsible to admit the candidate to the Novitiate, or not. The admittance to the Society meant the possibility of embracing the perpetual vows of obedience, poverty, and celibacy after rigorous years of intellectual training and spiritual formation. The decision of the Provincial was the decision of the Society. Each of the prenovices met privately with Fr. Rene SJ to hear the news. After months of discernment and prayer, the Society of Jesus, myself, and God finally converged to see the way ahead.

Earlier that morning, I went up to the chapel and took some pictures of the altar thinking it could be my last day to see the chapel. That Saturday was bright and breezy, it was summertime. I took my sandals off, slid the door open. I felt the cool, linoleum under my bare feet. It was very soothing. Outside, the birds chirped and flapped their wings from tree to tree, the leaves glistened reflecting the sunlight, the tricycles revved now and then. The sounds were unusually louder that day and the outside world was oblivious to what’s going on in my mind. I stood still for a couple of minutes and prayed with openness.

The chapel was way into the back of the house, on a deck above the second floor. It was separated by a few steps from the main house through an exit staircase. The chapel had two wooden doors that slid open by almost half the width of the chapel. The interior was about five arms-length square. The wall of the altar was a shiny wood finish from floor to ceiling. A half-size crucifix just below the apex was on an accented panel with a light brown, batik-like wallpaper. Directly below the crucifix was a dark hardwood chair with a cushion on the seat. To my right was a statue of the Virgin Mary on a wooden plinth. Her hands were outstretched and abundant with gifts and favours for those who asked. A purple-and-white cloth hanged from the plinth, like a cascading waterfall that nourished a parched land. Next on another plinth just a little lower than the others, was a vase of flowers, almost always fresh every day as I could remember. The podium with gold-plated lectern was nearest to the window, draped with a similar motif. The table on the centre was dining-high and with a carving of the Society’s coat-of-arms on the front oak-finish panel. The Tabernacle atop a plinth wider than the others was on the other side of the crucifix. A paper art décor that represented biblical themes were pasted on the sidewall of the altar. About fifteen folding wood chairs were spaced an arm’s length on the semi-gloss linoleum parquet flooring. There was an organ and guitar in a corner at the back. The many windows on both sides allowed sunshine and breeze through the sheer curtains.

By mid-morning, my turn came to see Fr. Rentax. He was seated on one of the folding chairs in the middle of the chapel. He was smiling at me while I took off my sandals and entered. Beside him, was another chair. I sat down facing him. The big crucifix was above us in my right periphery and I could feel His gaze. The sealed white No. 10 business envelope was handed to me. I felt the thinness of paper in my hand, unfolded it like it contained the jackpot in a TV show. Each word was printed, with no erasures, and no grammatical error. I wondered if Fr. Rene knew beforehand what the letter had said. But what was very striking was the unwritten message which was too personal to write about it here. It was emotionally unsettling at first, but it was my truth. God had a different plan.

The experience at the Arvisu House Jesuit Prenovitiate was very graceful, and it felt liberating. I realized that awareness and self-acceptance led to joy. That life was a journey to be treasured and best offered to God with openness. His plans continued to unfold, moulding me anew each day. I acted in a way that I believed was pleasing to God. I listened, bore the yoke while I was young (Lamentations 3:27), and met God halfway.

Most of us went our different ways after the revelation. I returned to family and work with a whole new perspective. God’s presence seemed more tangible. A short vacation was what some of us needed. We went to Baguio City to cool off the summer and admire the caves and see the hanging coffins in the mountains of Sagada. Others spent time with their families and prepared for the entrance to the Sacred Heart Novitiate, in Novaliches. It was all well.

My friend, Genevieve, lent me the book Being Happy by Andrew Matthews which helped me to rebuild emotionally as I turned towards a new and exciting path towards the secular. I was very grateful for everyone who became instruments in my discernment – the Society who embraced me with loving arms, my family who was there before and after, my relatives, friends, and the CoM community.

God knew how to console indeed.