" Nanghatag napod sila, Ma! (Ma, they gave again"

RFC Davao

Aug 29

By: Bro. Paolo Rey Bateller, C. Ss. R. | Province of Cebu

"Nanghatag napod sila, Ma! (Ma, they gave again!)"

This was the excited shout of the child to her mother across the street. In the child's arms was the lunch pack I gave her a few seconds ago.

Walking away, I smiled, amused at the response. It was one of the many moments that made this particular Sunday morning a bit more meaningful.

Little Christmas is one of the monthly pastoral initiatives of the Redemptorist Formation Community and it involves the community preparing meals to be distributed to the street dwellers of Davao City. On one level, it reflects the spirituality of the Redemptorist founder, Saint Alphonsus Maria De Liguori, who was incredibly fond of the Incarnation, especially the Nativity of Jesus Christ. On another level, it reflects the desire of the community to reach out - in love and service - to the least and neglected.

Looking back at our labors, I want to mention three (3) things: the tale of the star thrower, the parishioners of Our Mother of Perpetual Help (OMoPH), and the meal recipients themselves.

First, my cynical side knows how incredibly small our assistance is to our poor brethren. Indeed, what we've done for them that day was assure them of a decent meal. For the next meal, however, they have to find a way to eat again.

True, this realization is deflating. But, in times like these, I recall that there's always something good in the most minor deeds. I also recall a lovely story of a child who was undaunted by a similar criticism:

IT ALL STARTED WHEN…

A young girl was walking along a beach where thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement.

She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, "Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can't save all these starfish. You can't begin to make a difference!"

The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it into the ocean as far as she could. Then she looked up at the man and replied,

"Well, I made a difference for that one! (Eiseley, 1968)"

Second, everything we did for this month's Little Christmas was only possible through the generosity of others, of anonymous individuals who hope that we can do something good with the money they've entrusted to us. Indeed, we bring them in spirit every time we help the poor through our pastoral initiatives. For them, we are grateful.

Finally, the recipients and the whole exercise of searching for them confronted me with several questions: If it was an ordinary day, would I still notice them? If I had nothing to give – neither a lunch pack nor money – would their presence register in my mind? And if I did notice them, would I walk past them? Or would I acknowledge them instead?

I believe this is one of the goals of Little Christmas: it's not only a venue to serve or minister to the poor but also to carve a space inside us where these questions may surface and challenge us.

A quarter before noon, we had wrapped up Little Christmas, our carton boxes all empty of lunch packs and juice drinks. It was a quiet ride back to the convent as the distribution team looked visibly spent from both the heat and the morning labor.

Maybe, if we're lucky, in the next Little Christmas, there'll be another child shouting, "Nanghatag napod sila, Ma! (Ma, they gave again!)"