The father by the son

NO one knows the father except the son.

These are words of our Lord Jesus Christ. They can only be applied strictly to him. Yet, no matter how imperfectly, these words can also be applied to us.

It cannot be denied that any son would have some intimate knowledge of his father -- especially if they had been together for quite some time, working together and developing a very healthy relationship of father and son.

This was what I had with my father, who just passed away at age 87. Up to my high school days, I was right beside him. I knew him so well I could pinpoint even where his warts were, where his strong and soft parts were.

I also worked as his clerk, so I knew how his mind and, more importantly, how his heart worked. My father used both. He was no icy intellectual. He was always full of compassion, giving preferential treatment to the poor and the weak.

Sometimes, I resented this, because it would involve my sharing in some sacrifices, as I too had to work hard with him. Only later did I understand the value of such episodes of work and selfless dedication. I thank my father for this.

Cristeto or Tatong Cimagala, to many, may be better known as a good lawyer, a dedicated law professor, a very judicious judge. Many have told me recently how impressed they were with one trait or another of my father.

I suppose people in general say these things at wakes. I thank them profusely. To me, however, there are a still a lot more about my father that can serve as an example to us all.

And these things are usually taken for granted, and yet I consider them to be of fundamental importance, of irrenunciable relevance. Things like hard work, humility, simplicity, integrity, etc., which happen to be rare items nowadays.

Even if one did not lead a very public life, as was the case of my father, a man's life will always have some bearing on the lives of the others, precisely because of what is known in Catholic doctrine as the "communion of saints."

We form one body in Christ. We are living parts of that body, organically linked to one another such that what happens to one member would always have some impact on the others.

My father led a very quiet and private life, but one full of lessons and values. Gifted with a very good mind, he worked hard to make justice according to our human laws capture the real essence of justice, a reflection of divine justice.

Not that he was very literate with religion. He was not. But his life and work simply followed the dictates of a clear mind and a sensitive conscience that in spite of human and worldly limitations reflected the wisdom and goodness of God.

Around him, he created and evoked an atmosphere of goodness. Even when he was heavily assailed by problems and difficulties -- the Cross he had to carry in life -- he never swayed from that goodness.

He was not afraid to suffer. He preferred to suffer poverty, for example, rather than tinker with his honesty and his dignity. In fact, poverty was no source of shame to him. The idea simply did not cross his mind.

I believe that even without talking about faith in God, he was living it all the time. He may have his own share of weaknesses, but I did not see nor hear malice from him, resentment, hatred, vengeance.

Even in those rare cases when he felt he was wronged by someone, his anger and complaint were sparing and discreet. He never sought confrontation outside of the usual legal and amicable processes.

He scolded me one time when I was still a little boy. I squandered five pesos, at that time a big amount for a kid to handle. I remember it well because I understood why I was wrong. In the end I felt good more than bad, even if I had a hard time accepting the truth at that moment.

He tried always to be positive and constructive. He did not allow himself to be overtaken by sadness or depression. He always found reason to hope, and the matching energy to work it out.

He never failed in allowing me to expect these things from him. Even in his old age and failing health, he continued to inspire me. He was simply overflowing with patience and understanding.

Now I realize more sharply how lucky I am to have him as a father. He showed me the real face of love and dedication, of goodness and heroism in the little and ordinary things in life.

He may not know it, but I think he really prepared me for God. And he showed me how God can be found even in the little things of the day, in the ordinary problems and challenges that one meets every day.