When we were growing up, our parents set what seemed to us ridiculous rules.

Whenever we would get home we were all required to wash our faces and hands, take off our shoes and wash our feet, too. To make this more fun, I mean who didn’t want to keep the grime of childhood, my father would wash our hands, and sing us silly songs. It was a rare tender moment and a rare indulgence of expression.

We also weren’t allowed to lie down on our beds wearing our “outside clothes.” We were asked to shower as soon as we arrived, and to make sure we did it, my mother would prepare merienda to be eaten only at the end of the showers. We showered quickly, eager for delights as bananacue or kamote chips, and ice cold Sunny orange juice.

Back then, we thought these to be whims of our parents, things to remind us how little control we had over our young lives. It took this pandemic to make us see things differently. Unraveling the history of pandemics, we realized that our parents were the children of parents who survived the Spanish plague. And all this need for cleanliness, the worry over it and the toil of it, was coming from a real fear of disease.

It is but a small window to see the effects of History, and its large movements, on history, and its very small personal movements. In my own daily reflections, my discernment has made me more mindful of the movements between the personal and the communal, the small mundane life that I lead, and the large, often difficult-to-grasp lives outside of my sphere. I suffer, and everyone suffers. Everyone suffers, and I suffer. What to do about the suffering outside of myself? In the end, all I can really do is wash my own hands. And it makes me feel small, helpless and absolutely useless.

I suspect you suffer from this, too: protecting self and loved ones can create a feeling of isolation and insularity, selfishness, even. As long as the virus does not come to you, what other responsibilities does one have? And yet, the call of our faith asks us to step outside of our doors, outside of our pristine and clean lives. It asks us to care far more than we sometime would like to, or even can. It asks us to see that our happiness, our peace, our health, is always dependent on the state of others. This inextricable link that binds all human beings is not abstract. It is rather an incontrovertible fact.

It is in this spirit that we bring to you this special issue of Fabilioh. All its contents are about the pandemic and the different ways by which the university has institutionally responded to this health crisis. Harnessing all its powers, its brain bank, its resources, its networks, we share with you the efforts at being part of arriving at solutions. It is our hope that you will join us in whatever you can. If there’s anything that is crystal clear by this time, it is that we cannot do this alone. It will take a national and global attempt to take better control of the crisis.

We’ve also included some rich reflection pieces in the magazine for your own quiet time. The Office of Mission and Identity has generously shared with us two pieces. These are short reflections that are shared with the university community, allowing everyone the time for deep discernment, and keeping the bonds of community alive while we are apart. Fr Manoling Francisco’s address to the Grade 6 students of the Ateneo Grade School is featured as well. He shares stories of small miracles in the work of Tanging Yaman and invites us to reflect even more what miracle stories we may be witnessing ourselves.

We are also sharing with you the homily of Fr Marlito Ocon, SJ, current chaplain at UP-PGH, a spiritual frontliner, who delivered the homily at the Provincial Mass in July 2020, the first year of the pandemic. In 2021, and as we approach 2022, still in the midst of a raging storm, we take to heart Fr Lito’s challenging words:

“…It is God’s grace at work in each of us that moves us to go beyond ourselves, to renounce our strong desire for self-preservation. It is not easy, and it will never be easy. It is a cross for many of us but isn’t it that where the cross is, there Jesus is? What moves us to go beyond ourselves, to go beyond our comforts and means? It is God’s grace, present in a messy Church in hospital wards. It is God’s grace that is always greater than our ‘natural gravitational force” to stay safe! May the spirit of Ignatius ignite us all to beg for the grace of courage when we are drowned by fear, for the grace of self-giving when we are held back by self-preservation. Amen.

Until we meet again, until we see each other at the games, hug each other at graduations, reunite at Simbanggabi masses, or bump into each other on campus, we wish everyone good health and spirit. Let us keep all kinds of frontliners in our deepest and most constant prayers.

Rica Bolipata-Santos

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF