The unknown saints

On November 1 we go to the cemetery and pray for all those whom we love, who have gone home to God before us. And we honor all the Saints — those who struggled through this life like the rest of us, and are now safe with the Virgin Mary, forever.

On November 2 we pray for the Poor Souls — those who are in the ante-room of Heaven, in Purgatory. Really, they are not so poor. They will surely enter the Kingdom where eye hath not seen, nor has ear heard, nor has it entered into the mind of man to conceive the joy that God has prepared for those who love him.

Pious women sometimes pray that they will be Saints. But the real saints, while they were trying to serve God in this world, prayed that they would make it to Purgatory. Francis Xavier, who was an heroic missionary, prayed that he would love God in this world, because he was in constant desolation, in deep depression, and felt that he would never make it, not even to Purgatory.

But it would be good for us to remember all the unknown saints, living around us, who are trying to serve God as best they can in this stormy, troubled world. We should pray that they will have the courage and strength to keep on trying.

For instance, our destitute poor, squatters, living sometimes under a bridge, in little rooms where they cannot stand, because the ceiling is only four feet above the floor. They have no light, no water, no air. And the food on which they live is sometimes what other people have thrown away.

But they smile. And they help each other. They share with each other. And they pray. They kneel before a statue of the Virgin Mary, or of the Santo Niño, and they thank God for the little they have. If you pass a family like this when they are eating, they will invite you to eat with them. And they will really give you all they have.

The outside world calls it "hospitality". But it is more than that. It is "Love thy neighbor" – a principle on which they live, even when they do not know what a principle is, and cannot spell it. And every time they smile, or share, or reach out to help someone, they are reaching out to God.

I do not know how God keeps his books. But certainly there is a special place in his heart for the courageous scavenger who goes out to the mountain of garbage each morning, to earn what he can for his wife and children, whom he loves. Christ Our Lord has a preferential option for the poor.

We do not think of the poor as an asset to our country. Sometimes we are turned away by the ragged clothes, the hungry eyes, the ugliness of the place, the smell. But they are the unknown saints among us. The destitute squatters, whom God loves, are probably the ones who keep Him from sweeping us all away in a flood, or swallowing us up in an earthquake.

The Filipino is prone to think that the Philippines is somehow inferior. Largely because we are poor. We do not have money. He does not believe that he has an inferiority complex. He thinks that he is really inferior. We are conscious of our faults, our failures, our weaknesses, our sins, our vices. And we do not recognize the deep strength of our men, and the beautiful spirit of our women.

Once upon a time, years ago, in 1899, Aguinaldo was retreating from the Americans with the remnant of his shattered army. He was drawing north, through Nueva Vizcaya. When he came to a narrow pass on a mountain top, he said to his best friend, Gregorio del Pilar, who was 24 years old: "Take 60 men and defend this pass for as long as you can".

Del Pilar said: "Yes, sir." He took 60 men, built two trenches, and held up the whole American Army for a full day. The American war correspondent, at the base of the mountain, watching the battle, wrote: "We could see them there, lying in the rocks, calmly and carefully loading and firing, loading and firing, at the men below. The odds were 10 to 1. But even when they were surrounded on three sides, and our men were 100 feet away from them, there was no sign that any one of them meant to withdraw. It was a kind of cool, deliberate nerve that was new to us Americans."

All 60 men went down. Del Pilar was the last to fall. You will not find greater courage than this anywhere in the annals of history. All of them knew, from the beginning, that they were laying down their lives for their country. We honor Del Pilar as a hero. But the whole 60 men – whose names we do not know – had the same cool, deliberate, heroic nerve. They are the unknown saints.

And you will find this courage in the Filipino man until this day! When World War II broke over us, 176 students, R.O.T.C. cadets, college boys, went to Bataan when they did not have to go. They held out for three months without food, without ammunition, with nothing but courage. They were in the Death March. Then in the prison camp at Capas, where many died. Of those who were finally released, many went into the underground.

One of my own students was picked up by the Japanese, and brought into Fort Santiago. They wanted him to give the names of his friends, who were with him in the underground. He said: "I don’t know any names." To make him talk, they beat him in the mouth with a gun butt, broke out all his teeth, smashed the jaw, the nose. Still he would not talk.

So they brought him to the cemetery, gave him a shovel and said; "Dig your own grave". He said: "Dig it yourself!" They bayoneted him, and he fell. Greater love than this no man hath, that he lay down his life for his friends. . . . . . . How many other schoolboys died in this same way!. . . . .We do not even know their names. . . . .They are the unknown saints.

Right here, right now, in the year 2006, in the month of November, we have children who get into trouble — girls becoming pregnant while they are still in school. . . . .boys getting hooked on drugs.

On occasion, I meet the parents of these children. The father, the mother, recognize the fault of their child, but they love them as their own. They move heaven and earth to help them. They provide all the medical care that this child needs. They try to protect them from humiliation, from shame, from anything that will cause them pain. They pray for them, night and day.

And when they look for guidance, even when they tell the story, they weep. . . . . .This is love. It is easy to be a parent when your child is getting medals of honor. It is hard when the child is in trouble. . . . . When these parents suffer with their children, they are suffering with God. That is what Our Lord will say to them when they stand before him to be judged: "So long as you have done it to the least of these, my little ones, you have done it to Me!" . . . . . . .In their quiet effort to be a good father, and a good mother, they are the unknown saints.

And love is a two way street. A young Doctora was taking care of her mother in a hospital. The mother was dying of cancer. She had a bad night, suffering constantly. The Doctora was up all night, taking care of her, trying to keep her comfortable, trying to relieve her pain.

In the morning her mother looked at her, and said softly, with the little strength she had left: "You will get tired, taking care of me."

The young Doctora wept for the whole day, real tears flowing. She said: "How could I get tired, taking care of her? She is my mother!. . . . .She is my mother!"

There are many good girls, like this Doctora, living all around us. We do not notice them. We do not see the beautiful things that they are doing. We do not even know their names.

But God does!

And that is why he will say to them, some day, at the judgment: "Come to Me, ye blessed of my Father, and possess the kingdom that has been prepared for you from all eternity."

They are the unknown saints.

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