LIGHT UP FROM LAVA

LIGHT UP FROM LAVA FLOW (1969)

“It’s the greatest revolution the Church has had in 400 years.”



3000 bishops assemble

 Our professor at East Asian Pastoral Institute, Alfonso Nebreda SJ, certainly impressed me with that statement back in September 1969. As a world-class theologian, in fact, one of the stars who was able to deliver a very relevant message, he had recently made his mark at a conference in Medellin. He was at the cutting edge as the Church took up the immense challenge of Vatican 2. I felt privileged to “sit at his feet” over those eight months in Manila. He was but one of a group of charismatic Jesuits who made up the bulk of staff at this top flight university, Ateneo de Manila. While Alfonso would not have graced the cover of any upbeat magazine as a sex symbol, his fellow Spaniard, Juan Mateos certainly would. A Spanish grandee to his finger tips, he was a real heart throb to the ladies. With his sense of presence, drama and charism his message had such an extra grace and depth. And no wonder. We were drinking from the wells of Eastern theology and mysticism. Apparently, with the message of Mary at Fatima, “Russia will be converted” impacting on them, the Jesuit high command decided to be ready for this unimaginable revolution. They would be ready to parachute in specially trained Pope’s shock troops. They selected highly talented young trainees and immersed them in Eastern Church culture. Juan was one of this “brigade”. The fact that the promised miracle seemed to be postponed did not deter them. They were able to enrich our understanding of great treasures that we’d lost in the tragic split of a thousand years ago when the Orthodox churches took a different road.

We were a rare and varied bunch of students from twenty four nationalities. Just a hundred of us, a neat split of 50-50 men, women. Nearly all were working in East Asia, nuns and priests dominating. I was one of a handful of Brothers. There was just one lay woman, one layman.

We certain-long lectures, with papers for all the courses. These included Theology (moral and dogmatic) Scripture, Sociology, Liturgy, Psychology, Philosophy. Being part of the National system we followed courses in Filipino History and Culture. All very rich and demanding. It had to be as this post graduate course of the university was aimed at a Masters degree.

There was plenty that was bracing, new, and liberating that helped usher us into a new age of Church. An area that attracted as well as daunted some was the Group Dynamics which linked in with the Psychology course. Ms.Tessie Nitoreda, who led this with brilliance, became a cult figure over the years. The highpoint in her course was a weekend devoted to a new-fangled and experimental process called Encounter or T groups. We volunteered to join a group of twelve which met Friday night after supper, then proceeded to work all through Saturday and Sunday.



1969 - The hems are rising.

  It was quite punishing. To sit and share personally with such a group for some thirty hours involved risk. Most claimed it provided good learnings and a real impetus in personal growth. Others were not so convinced. Our group was blessed in having Tessie as our trainer, as she could head off potentially damaging situation and help in necessary healing. Even so, there were tears and some highly emotive times. On the wider scale these T Groups have now ceased. In that age of almost obligatory self disclosure there were obviously not enough trainers of Tessie’s professionalism.

After those thirty hours I was completely wrung out, as were the others in our group. Saddling up for a solid week of lectures without a break was too bleak a prospect. I had to get away and breathe freely. My friend, Br. Richard, a Dutch Brother working in Pakistan was also eager to vamoose and chill out. And so we teamed up.

Where to go? Just by chance we met a pair from the previous T group who had escaped for a few days to a little village by Lake Taal. The lake itself is a crater lake some twenty km by twelve km. In the middle is another island with its own smaller crater lake. From a high ridge it’s quite a stunning sight. But it could be dangerous.



EAPI  studnets on picnic overlooking Lake Taal

  Some two months before the volcano island had woken with massive explosions and became vary nasty indeed. In fact the government has evacuated all those people on that rich, loamy island, as well as others within fifteen km on the mainland. It was a very tense time forthousands of rural folk. Just over twenty years later a nearby volcano, Pinitubo, near the US Clarke Base, erupted with catastrophic force, killing thousands and burying the countryside in metres of ash. But in 1969, after lots of huffing and puffing the monster seemed to be losing interest. Oh, there were still rumbles, the plume of smoke snaking into the sky and with some impressive night time fireworks. As yet the farmers had not returned to the island but the surrounding country slipped back into easy gear.

Our friend, Fr. Patrice gave us directions to San Nicolas, the little town by the lake. It turned out to be a hair-raising ride. Most of the buses seemed decrepit and ready for the scrap heap but their dauntless drivers, backed up by the most enterprising mechanics, who work wonders out of copper wire and various scraps, keep them chugging away. After half and hour we shifted to an open-sided bus with toast rack seats. The driver was either on some drugs or belonged to a kamikaze club. He drove at reckless speed, carrying on a conversation with passengers with their chickens and bags of supplies while twirling the wheel with one hand. Amazing!  Filipinos have great devotion to the saints, with pictures, rosary beads and crosses festooning the windscreen. They must be kept working overtime to avert disasters at every turn.

Really, I should have bailed out and walked. In all probability Richard and I could have joined some towering inferno when we stopped at some derelict service station to refuel. Here was our driver, nonchalantly filling her up, with the butt of a cigarette dangling from his lips and fumes wreathing in the air.  Did I pray? How else did we ever survive? Where was Mary?

We reached San Nicolas and found the little cantina where Patrice and Jean had stayed. We were taken aback by the welcome which nearly swept us off our feet. Girls in bright skirts and disarming smiles could not do enough for us as they ushered us in, provided a lovely lunch and showed us our quarters for the night. Well, maybe that should have alerted us to some unusual game plan being played out. But we were both ingénues.



Lake Taal and Volcano

 We really had no plan of action but we were hoping we might get lucky in the evening as our friends had. So, a stroll around the town, again impressed by the Spanish imprint with the architecture of the church. To me there seemed to be a very paradoxical attitude to the colonisers who benefited greatly from four of exploitation. (I smiled at the quip:

“What do you expect : 400 years as a Spanish colony and 50 years of Hollywood?”) From my recent study of Filipino history I marvelled at the great patriot, Rizal, who led a tough fight for independence and paid with his life. But of course, before the goal could be achieved the US moved in to add its own little slice of empire.

There was quite a sumptuous dinner in the evening and enter the “villain of the piece”, the town mayor, a heavy man with a certain ponderous presence. He seemed to take a shine to the two honoured guests. And being a man of influence he was able to organise a most daring treat. Together with some Peace Corp types we were driven to the lake.

The old monster out there was still snorting and in troubled mood. But, we were assured there was no real danger and would we like to go and take a look. Why not? Who would ever get such a chance again? And so a group of us piled into this large, deep hulled outrigger canoe for the adventure. The lake was choppy with a brisk breeze blowing. The outboard kicked over and we were bouncing and cutting through the waves. It was awesome, no doubt. There was a tickle of fear in my throat. Against the black sky the volcano reared up quite menacingly with its fiery maw belching smoke and every now and again there came a “whump” and some white hot rocks were belched into the black. We were closing in to circle around the island. Just at that stage the motor cough, splutters and dies. The tickle became painful. With great skill the driver re started and we moved on. Coming around the side of the island I gasped. This hissing, fizzing black lava river, streaked with red was boiling into the lake. Scenes from various horror movies came to mind.

There was a beach just along and the skipper got our agreement to land there. Yet again, I cussed because I had left my camera behind. This was pretty close to the action. The beach was strewn with large chunks of coal black stone, any of which would have wiped us out. But, looking up we could see that the rocks shot out were thudding down some hundreds of metres away.

 Plucking up some courage, we ventured down to the lava river. We confronted near two metres of black wall. It was warm certainly and deep through the cracks you could see the red hot molten flow. This was unreal surely. We roamed up and down. Then, in an act of dare and bravado I mounted the “wall”. I was wary of course, and tested each step thoroughly. But it all seemed safe enough there. To add a finishing touch I asked for a long piece of grass, which I pushed down deep into a crack, ignited and then lit up a “Malboro”.

Back at the cantina, the mayor was waiting and entertained us. It was becoming clear that this was no “freebie”. At one stage, he pulled out this enormous weapon from his belt, a Magnum. We were awed and interested certainly. He assured us that, as a mayor, he needed to protect himself. Moreover, this piece of artillery would blast a hole “in that wall over there”. We were impressed by his authority. Then he turned the conversation to the target that was behind his largesse.



Ateneo University

 “As we all know, Ateneo University is the best.” We nodded.

“And it’s not always that easy to gain admittance”.

Again, we nodded, realising that we two were exceptional in our own way.

“Now, I need your influence in getting my nephew in.”

Oh God, what had we got ourselves into? If we backed out would he unholster that Magnum again?

We played it cool. But not very wisely.

In fact I wish I could replay the scenario, having developed some of own people skills in the meantime. As we innocently and ingenuously explained that the two of us were “only Brothers” with really no power, I could see his brow darkening by the moment. Summarily he drew the meeting to an abrupt end and stormed off.

Next morning, after a fitful night, we were leaving. But where was everybody? Those smiling senoritas had disappeared. There was no breakfast, there was nobody. All very strange and a bit unnerving. Eventually, a rat clappity bus arrived and we were happy to board and high tail it out of sleepy San Nicolas. No doubt the mayor was playing with his weapon and keeping the simple folk in a suitable state of terror, while those two hapless Brothers headed for ivy walls of Ateneo