If you were born and raised in the Philippines and now find yourself living in a different country, you are likely a child of "the third culture", whether you are fully aware of it or not. I came across this concept when I read a book written by Fr. Thomas Green, S.J.
Fr. Thomas Green is a native New Yorker. Born and raised in Rochester, he studied philosophy and theology at Bellarmine College, Plattsburgh, New York and at Woodstock College in Maryland. He earned advanced degrees in education and physics from Fordham University and a PhD in Science from the University of Notre Dame.
Fr. Tom was a young Jesuit scholastic in 1956 (he was ordained a priest in 1963) when he was assigned to missionary work in Japan. Set to embark on his journey, his mission was switched instead to the Philippines. For fifty-two years, he has served as spiritual director and retreat master at San Jose Seminary in Manila and Professor of Philosophy and Theology at Ateneo de Manila University.
Fr. Tom is an internationally acclaimed author of eight books on prayer and spirituality. His popular books, including Weeds Among the Wheat, A Vacation with the Lord and Drinking from a Dry Well, have been translated into many languages, such as French, German, Italian, Spanish, Korean, and Indonesian.
In his very first book, Opening to God (published by Ave Maria Press in 1977 and revised in 2006), Fr. Tom writes about a shrinking world -- what we now call the global village -- and the sociological concept of a “third culture”.
It is not to be confused with the Third World. Rather, it is what happens when two cultures collide or blend, as the case may be, in an individual. It is what happens when a young New Yorker priest like Fr. Green resides for over fifty years in the Philippines (and wonders whether he has become more Filipino than American) or when a Filipino physician like me lives and works in America for thirty plus years (and wonders where his heart really belongs to).
“Who am I really?” Fr. Tom asks. “To cling to my ‘Americanism’ in an alien culture”, he continues, “would be a certain formula for frustration and ineffectiveness. To seek to become wholly Filipino would mean reverting to the womb and living over again my whole history – an impossible task...Who am I then? Am I rootless, or am I rooted in two soils at once?”
“These questions can provoke a real identity crisis, “Fr. Tom admits. “But it is also possible, thank God, that they be productive, although not without pain, of a real personal deepening and enrichment.... I am a child of a third-culture...The child of the third culture has a unique perspective. He can, if he has the eyes, begin to discern the constant and fundamental human values which underlie all concrete cultural embodiments of these values.”
When I read these passages, the proverbial light bulb glowed brighter. Rather than being bothered by “straddling the fence” (which I wrote about in last week's column), I saw the unique possibilities open to the “child of the third culture”. I foresaw the gifts bestowed to a “citizen of the world”.
We recognize the frailties inherent in Filipino culture – a “crab mentality” which leads to pettiness and disunity, a “manana habit” which lends to inefficiency, or tribal and regional loyalties which contribute to government corruption. But we also see its beauty and richness – “the bayanihan spirit” of cooperation, a natural respect for elders and authority, treasured family relationships, a deep sense of spirituality and religiosity.
On the other end, we know the problems with American culture: greed, materialism, and individuality. Even as we appreciate its strength and virtues: a national identity, efficiency and productivity, generosity, freedom and equality.
Why, then, do we not carefully gather instead the richness of the Filipino culture as well as the virtues of American culture and incorporate these as our own “third culture”? Having found something much more valuable, we can simply leave behind the foibles of our Filipino culture while shunning the negative aspects of Americanism.
As we continue to walk through a “cross-cultural experience” at the “intersection of two worlds”, Fr. Tom thinks we “can discover (our) real roots as human beings...and wonder at, and be enriched by, the very diversity of expression of these roots.”
Belonging to "the third culture" can be a gift and a challenge.
Reference: Thomas H. Green, S.J., “Opening to God”, Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, Indiana, 1977, 13-14.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Straddling the Fence
It happens to all immigrants. You live in a foreign land long enough and you begin to ask yourself which country you really belong to.
When you first arrive in the United States, everything’s new and impressive. Disneyland in Anaheim. Seaworld and the San Diego Zoo. The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The Statue of Liberty in Ellis Island. The White House in Washington DC.
You travel across the country and the camp sites are endless – from Kilauea Volcano National Park in the Big Island of Hawai'i to the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Appalachians. Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, the Rockies -- you may have seen them on TV or the movies, read about them in books and magazines, but they appear so spectacular in full living color.
You marvel at works of art displayed in the Smithsonian, the Metropolitan Museum, the Getty, and so many other places in this vast country. You can’t believe the limitless number of shopping malls, restaurants, resorts, wonderful places to see and experience.
If you are a typical Filipino, you can travel back and forth, from one end of the United States to the other, without staying in a single hotel. There is always family -- a relative, or a friend of a relative, or a friend of a friend -- in every state and corner of the country, from Pearl City, Hawai’i to Long Island, New York, from Stockton, California to Tampa Bay, Florida.
You develop a circle of kababayans, then Filipino-American friends at work or at church. You widen that circle to Asian-Americans, and other ethnic Americans, and to Americans who can trace their roots to the Mayflower.
You have Italian, Polish, and German friends, who trace their roots in America to three or four generations when their grandparents or great grandparents left Europe to seek a better life in the new land. You have friends from Mexico, Vietnam, and India who trace their American origins to one generation. And you have Native American friends who can trace their roots all the way to Dancing with Wolves or Big Feather.
At first, you speak to your children in your native tongue. They answer back in English. Soon you are conversing in English at the dinner table. Later you don’t realize if you are speaking in Filipino or in English.
You get involved in your church and your community. You vote for the local mayor and for the state governor. You contribute to the Presidential campaign. Before you know it, you have become Americanized.
You never think of yourself as American – despite the fact that you rent or own a house in America, work in America, have kids that act and speak like Americans. You think you are a Filipino, staying in America for an extended sojourn, but longing to return and eventually retire in the Philippines.
Yet, you go home to visit your beloved homeland, and you notice that the customs officials no longer think of you as native. You have become a Balik-bayan. A visitor in the old country.
No, you are not really an American (at least you don’t feel like it, American citizenship and passport notwithstanding), but you are no longer a Filipino either, in that you don’t reside in the Philippines, you don’t earn your livelihood there, you don’t send your children to school there, you don’t attend Sunday Mass there, you don’t vote there, you don’t contribute to the economy there.
You have become this strange creature – a man or woman without a country.
You read the LA Times and the Manila Bulletin. You watch American Idol and TFC. You shop at Albertson's and Seafood City. And if you are like my friend, you eat anchovies in pizza with rice. They might as well drop you in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!
I remember talking about this with a Filipino activist back in the late 70’s, prior to EDSA and People Power. At that time, he was frantically working with other Filipino expatriates to transport firearms to support the rebels against the Marcos dictatorship.
If the impending revolution succeeded, I asked him, would he return to the Philippines? He thought about it for a while. He was married to a Filipina. He had three kids, one of whom was studying at Harvard. He had a beautiful house in California. He had a job with the state government.
Would you go back to the Philippines? I asked. He said he was not sure; he was “straddling the fence”.
I’ve also had discussions with Filipino doctors who went back to the Philippines to practice there. Some stayed, some returned back to the United States.
Straddling the fence. That bothered me. This see-sawing back and forth. This split between residing in America and wishing to live in the Philippines.
Until I came across Carlos Bulosan’s “America is in the Heart”. Until I read Fr. Thomas Green’s books and the concept of "the third culture".
When you first arrive in the United States, everything’s new and impressive. Disneyland in Anaheim. Seaworld and the San Diego Zoo. The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The Statue of Liberty in Ellis Island. The White House in Washington DC.
You travel across the country and the camp sites are endless – from Kilauea Volcano National Park in the Big Island of Hawai'i to the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Appalachians. Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, the Rockies -- you may have seen them on TV or the movies, read about them in books and magazines, but they appear so spectacular in full living color.
You marvel at works of art displayed in the Smithsonian, the Metropolitan Museum, the Getty, and so many other places in this vast country. You can’t believe the limitless number of shopping malls, restaurants, resorts, wonderful places to see and experience.
If you are a typical Filipino, you can travel back and forth, from one end of the United States to the other, without staying in a single hotel. There is always family -- a relative, or a friend of a relative, or a friend of a friend -- in every state and corner of the country, from Pearl City, Hawai’i to Long Island, New York, from Stockton, California to Tampa Bay, Florida.
You develop a circle of kababayans, then Filipino-American friends at work or at church. You widen that circle to Asian-Americans, and other ethnic Americans, and to Americans who can trace their roots to the Mayflower.
You have Italian, Polish, and German friends, who trace their roots in America to three or four generations when their grandparents or great grandparents left Europe to seek a better life in the new land. You have friends from Mexico, Vietnam, and India who trace their American origins to one generation. And you have Native American friends who can trace their roots all the way to Dancing with Wolves or Big Feather.
At first, you speak to your children in your native tongue. They answer back in English. Soon you are conversing in English at the dinner table. Later you don’t realize if you are speaking in Filipino or in English.
You get involved in your church and your community. You vote for the local mayor and for the state governor. You contribute to the Presidential campaign. Before you know it, you have become Americanized.
You never think of yourself as American – despite the fact that you rent or own a house in America, work in America, have kids that act and speak like Americans. You think you are a Filipino, staying in America for an extended sojourn, but longing to return and eventually retire in the Philippines.
Yet, you go home to visit your beloved homeland, and you notice that the customs officials no longer think of you as native. You have become a Balik-bayan. A visitor in the old country.
No, you are not really an American (at least you don’t feel like it, American citizenship and passport notwithstanding), but you are no longer a Filipino either, in that you don’t reside in the Philippines, you don’t earn your livelihood there, you don’t send your children to school there, you don’t attend Sunday Mass there, you don’t vote there, you don’t contribute to the economy there.
You have become this strange creature – a man or woman without a country.
You read the LA Times and the Manila Bulletin. You watch American Idol and TFC. You shop at Albertson's and Seafood City. And if you are like my friend, you eat anchovies in pizza with rice. They might as well drop you in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!
I remember talking about this with a Filipino activist back in the late 70’s, prior to EDSA and People Power. At that time, he was frantically working with other Filipino expatriates to transport firearms to support the rebels against the Marcos dictatorship.
If the impending revolution succeeded, I asked him, would he return to the Philippines? He thought about it for a while. He was married to a Filipina. He had three kids, one of whom was studying at Harvard. He had a beautiful house in California. He had a job with the state government.
Would you go back to the Philippines? I asked. He said he was not sure; he was “straddling the fence”.
I’ve also had discussions with Filipino doctors who went back to the Philippines to practice there. Some stayed, some returned back to the United States.
Straddling the fence. That bothered me. This see-sawing back and forth. This split between residing in America and wishing to live in the Philippines.
Until I came across Carlos Bulosan’s “America is in the Heart”. Until I read Fr. Thomas Green’s books and the concept of "the third culture".
Friday, February 8, 2008
Medicine and Spirituality
Reprinted from the Asian Journal
February 8, 2008
Some readers may wonder if the MD after my name was for real. After all, except for two articles about traditional Philippine remedies, I have not written anything related to medicine since starting this column in October.
Well, it is. I earned it back in 1974. For the last 33 years, I have been working as a physician and surgeon -- 13 years in academia and two decades in clinical practice. It is not unusual for physicians to write about religion and spirituality.
That may be because of the very thin line that separates medicine and spirituality. When doctors run out of stuff from their medicine bag to save a patient's life, it is time to call in the priest to administer the last sacraments and "take it from there." Likewise, there is nothing like being hospitalized or going under the knife to encourage serious reflection on things beyond the temporal world.
Dr. Alexis Carrell (1873-1944) was the first physician in the United States to win the Nobel Prize in medicine and physiology. Born and raised in France, he immigrated to the US in 1906 and worked at the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research in New York City. Among other things, he did pioneering work in vascular surgery and blood transfusion. He invented the technique of connecting severed blood vessels after the assassination of the French president. Dr. Carrel was convinced that, if doctors knew how to repair and anastomose blood vessels, they could have saved the president from exsanguinating to death.
Dr. Carrell captured the attention of the scientific world when he described the technique of connecting the artery from the arm of a father to the leg of an infant to save the dying child from intestinal bleeding. He also became well known for his preliminary work on transplant surgery.
What is little known is that Dr. Carrell was as devoted to religion as he was to science. He faithfully made a pilgrimage to Lourdes every summer. He was so enthralled by the miraculous happenings in Lourdes that he wrote about them, stating that it was worthwhile investigating the religious phenomena and subjecting the healings to scientific scrutiny. This stance drew sharp criticism from both the scientific and clerical establishments.
A year after he was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1913, Dr. Carrell married Anne-Marie Laure de Meyrie. They had met as pilgrims in Lourdes.
Another physician who wrote on religious subjects was the famous Dr. Albert Schweitzer (1875-1965). Before entering medical school, he wrote The Quest for the Historical Jesus, the treatise that established his reputation as a theologian. His other religious writings include Civilization and Ethics, and Christianity and the Religions of the World.
In 1904, Dr. Schweitzer came across an article in a magazine appealing for health workers in Africa, so he decided to become a missionary physician. With the help of his wife Helene, who studied nursing so she could assist her husband, Dr. Schweitzer established a mission hospital in Lambarene, in the west central African country of Gabon.
Utilizing funds raised from lectures, concerts (he was an accomplished pianist and organ player), and royalties from his writings, he expanded the mission hospital to seventy units, providing care to 500 hospitalized patients.
Who has not heard about Dr. Tom Dooley (1927-1961), the remarkable young man who studied at University of Notre Dame before joining the US Navy Medical Corps in 1944? After earning his MD degree from St. Louis University in 1953, Dr. Dooley worked as a Navy physician and got involved in evacuating over half a million Vietnamese refugees. Later, he founded MEDICO and focused on building small hospitals in Southeast Asia where medical services were practically nonexistent. Named among the most outstanding young men of America, Dr. Dooley wrote three books: Deliver Us From Evil (1956), The Edge of Tomorrow (1958), and The Night They Burned the Mountain (1960).
Dr. Adrienne Von Speyr (1902-1967) was the first female physician in Switzerland. Her father was an ophthalmologist and her brother was a general practitioner. Dr Speyr was a remarkable person who, despite her uncontrolled diabetes, crippling arthritis, and coronary artery disease, maintained a very busy practice, attending to 60-80 patients a day. In addition to her ailments, she received the stigmata. Yet, somehow, she found the energy to found a lay religious institute. She also wrote or, when she got very sick, dictated (to theologian Fr. Hans Urs von Balthasar, her spiritual director) 60 books essentially dealing with Christian spirituality.
We all know about St. Luke the Evangelist, who wrote one of the four Gospels of the New Testament and the Acts of the Apostles. Well, St. Luke was also a physician, who probably studied medicine at the famous school in Tarsus, and may have worked for some time as a ship doctor. St. Paul in Colossians 4:14 refers to him as "Luke, our dear physician."
Medicine and spirituality run along parallel pathways. Indeed, there is a tradition of physicians writing about spirituality and religion over the centuries.
February 8, 2008
Some readers may wonder if the MD after my name was for real. After all, except for two articles about traditional Philippine remedies, I have not written anything related to medicine since starting this column in October.
Well, it is. I earned it back in 1974. For the last 33 years, I have been working as a physician and surgeon -- 13 years in academia and two decades in clinical practice. It is not unusual for physicians to write about religion and spirituality.
That may be because of the very thin line that separates medicine and spirituality. When doctors run out of stuff from their medicine bag to save a patient's life, it is time to call in the priest to administer the last sacraments and "take it from there." Likewise, there is nothing like being hospitalized or going under the knife to encourage serious reflection on things beyond the temporal world.
Dr. Alexis Carrell (1873-1944) was the first physician in the United States to win the Nobel Prize in medicine and physiology. Born and raised in France, he immigrated to the US in 1906 and worked at the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research in New York City. Among other things, he did pioneering work in vascular surgery and blood transfusion. He invented the technique of connecting severed blood vessels after the assassination of the French president. Dr. Carrel was convinced that, if doctors knew how to repair and anastomose blood vessels, they could have saved the president from exsanguinating to death.
Dr. Carrell captured the attention of the scientific world when he described the technique of connecting the artery from the arm of a father to the leg of an infant to save the dying child from intestinal bleeding. He also became well known for his preliminary work on transplant surgery.
What is little known is that Dr. Carrell was as devoted to religion as he was to science. He faithfully made a pilgrimage to Lourdes every summer. He was so enthralled by the miraculous happenings in Lourdes that he wrote about them, stating that it was worthwhile investigating the religious phenomena and subjecting the healings to scientific scrutiny. This stance drew sharp criticism from both the scientific and clerical establishments.
A year after he was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1913, Dr. Carrell married Anne-Marie Laure de Meyrie. They had met as pilgrims in Lourdes.
Another physician who wrote on religious subjects was the famous Dr. Albert Schweitzer (1875-1965). Before entering medical school, he wrote The Quest for the Historical Jesus, the treatise that established his reputation as a theologian. His other religious writings include Civilization and Ethics, and Christianity and the Religions of the World.
In 1904, Dr. Schweitzer came across an article in a magazine appealing for health workers in Africa, so he decided to become a missionary physician. With the help of his wife Helene, who studied nursing so she could assist her husband, Dr. Schweitzer established a mission hospital in Lambarene, in the west central African country of Gabon.
Utilizing funds raised from lectures, concerts (he was an accomplished pianist and organ player), and royalties from his writings, he expanded the mission hospital to seventy units, providing care to 500 hospitalized patients.
Who has not heard about Dr. Tom Dooley (1927-1961), the remarkable young man who studied at University of Notre Dame before joining the US Navy Medical Corps in 1944? After earning his MD degree from St. Louis University in 1953, Dr. Dooley worked as a Navy physician and got involved in evacuating over half a million Vietnamese refugees. Later, he founded MEDICO and focused on building small hospitals in Southeast Asia where medical services were practically nonexistent. Named among the most outstanding young men of America, Dr. Dooley wrote three books: Deliver Us From Evil (1956), The Edge of Tomorrow (1958), and The Night They Burned the Mountain (1960).
Dr. Adrienne Von Speyr (1902-1967) was the first female physician in Switzerland. Her father was an ophthalmologist and her brother was a general practitioner. Dr Speyr was a remarkable person who, despite her uncontrolled diabetes, crippling arthritis, and coronary artery disease, maintained a very busy practice, attending to 60-80 patients a day. In addition to her ailments, she received the stigmata. Yet, somehow, she found the energy to found a lay religious institute. She also wrote or, when she got very sick, dictated (to theologian Fr. Hans Urs von Balthasar, her spiritual director) 60 books essentially dealing with Christian spirituality.
We all know about St. Luke the Evangelist, who wrote one of the four Gospels of the New Testament and the Acts of the Apostles. Well, St. Luke was also a physician, who probably studied medicine at the famous school in Tarsus, and may have worked for some time as a ship doctor. St. Paul in Colossians 4:14 refers to him as "Luke, our dear physician."
Medicine and spirituality run along parallel pathways. Indeed, there is a tradition of physicians writing about spirituality and religion over the centuries.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Living Saints
Living Saints
Mother Lillie, founder of Mt. Tabor Monastery, Tecate, MX
Mother Lillie, founder of Mt. Tabor Monastery, Tecate, MX
Have you ever been in the presence of a saint?
In May 1991, Lucie and I stood in line at the entrance of Pope John Paul II's Vatican residence, adjacent to St. Peter's Basilica. The year before, as we waited for a papal audience, the meeting was abruptly canceled because the pope had to leave for an emergency. This time, we were uncertain if some other occurrence might interfere with the much-anticipated meeting. To our relief, our pilgrim group was summoned to ascend the flight of stairs leading to the Papal chamber.
I vividly remember when Pope John Paul II stepped into the room. Time froze, the chamber brightened, we stood in awe -- moments etched forever in our collective memories. We were in the presence of someone not just charismatic but extraordinary.
Saints are usually portrayed with the golden halo we are all familiar with. It is said that the artist's circular halo actually represents the transcendent aura that emanates from living saints. In the 16th century, for instance, people claimed they saw St. Philip Neri's countenance shine as he celebrated Mass. And this was one saint who was known to be a practical joker, occasionally appearing in public in comical outfits or with only half of his beard shaved, just to make people laugh.
I dare say I witnessed, as many people have, the same saintly aura around Pope John Paul II. Likewise, I have seen it in the face of Sr. Mary Gregory, a 94-yr-old Benedictine nun who used to teach laypeople centering and contemplative prayer at the Perpetual Adoration Monastery in Mission Bay but who has since relocated to our Lady of Rickenbach in Missouri.
I have seen it in the face of Sr. Antonia Brenner, the legendary “Angel of Mercy” missionary nun who has lived in a Tijuana prison cell since 1986, ministering to convicted criminals. And I often noticed it in the demeanor of Fr. Luke Dougherty, the Benedictine monk at Prince of Peace Abbey in Oceanside who was spiritual director to bishops, priests, nuns, deacons, etc.
Collectively, I have not seen so many of these in one room than when I make my retreat at the Immaculate Heart of Mary / New Camaldoli Hermitage in Big Sur, California. Those hermit monks are the holiest (and happiest) people I have ever had the privilege to count as friends.
Recently, we visited Mt. Tabor Monastery in Tecate, Mexico, to see the pilgrim statue of Our Lady of Fatima, which was stopping by Tecate on its way to San Diego.
After praying in the chapel before the statue of Our Lady of Fatima, we were beckoned by our pastor, Fr. Ed Horning, a very pious priest and an oblate of the order. He wanted to introduce us to Mother Lillie, the foundress of Mt. Tabor Monastery.
Approaching Mother Lillie, I instantly sensed the subtle but unmistakable brilliance around her. In awe, I bent down and took her hand respectfully to kiss it. In turn, she took my hand -- -- and to my utter amazement, kissed it. Taking my wife's hand, Mother Lillie also kissed it, saying she wanted to bless our healing hands.
I have never had my hand kissed by a living saint. And I would be very surprised if it ever happened again. It is at once a humbling and uplifting experience that is difficult to put into words.
Mother Lillie could easily be what Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta was fifty years ago, before her television interview with Malcolm Muggeridge brought her to the center of the world stage.
Mother Lillie has a very interesting life story. She was born in 1951 in Nogales, Mexico but was raised in the US. She wanted to enter the convent at age 14 but her father, who was an atheist, would not allow her. Married at age 17, she has two daughters and several grandchildren. A lovely granddaughter was with her when we visited the monastery.
She entered the Carmelite order in San Diego as an oblate after her marriage fell apart, then founded the congregation -- The Trinitarians of Mary -- after a momentous pilgrimage to Fatima in 1992.
Like Mother Teresa who received her "call within a call" on the train ride to her retreat in Darjeeling, Mother Lillie received her call in Fatima, Portugal. Later, Mother Lillie conferred with Mother Teresa about her calling to found a new order. Mother Teresa advised her that the best way was to simply stand aside and allow God to do the work.
She did exactly what Mother Teresa said. Without food, water, electricity, or money, Sr. Lillie Diaz established Mt. Tabor Monastery on a mountain in Tecate. Soon, young women from the United States and Mexico joined her mission. Since its founding, the religious order has experienced very rapid growth. In Mexico, there are about 40 nuns from different nationalities. Mother Lillie currently stays in the second house in San Diego, with a smaller group of nuns, because she needs close medical attention.
The Trinitarian's charism focuses on adoration of the Blessed Sacrament and praying for priests and the conversion of the whole world. Like Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta's Missionaries of Charity, the nuns wear traditional habits. Unlike religious orders who actively advocate for the ordination of nuns, Mother Lillie's sisters simply pray for and take care of priests. That difference may have something to do with why the former congregations are suffering from a lack of vocations while Mother Lillie's and Mother Teresa's are thriving.
Mother Teresa's work centered on lepers and the "poorest of the poor" in the slums of Calcutta. Mother Lillie has an orphanage with about thirty girls and conducts clinics for the surrounding region. She tells us that physicians from San Diego come to the monastery regularly to help with free medical clinics.
Mother Lillie extends an invitation to everyone to come and visit the monastery and to stay for retreats or a day of prayer. If you like to visit Mt. Tabor Monastery, you may call (011) (52) (664) 971-1092 between 9:30 AM to 11:30 AM & 2:00 PM to 5:00 PM, Monday to Saturday.
From San Diego, take I-8 east to Highway 125 south, then take Highway 94 east. Follow Highway 94 for about 29 miles, then turn onto Highway 188 south for 1.8 miles to the border crossing at Tecate.
Mt. Tabor Monastery is approximately 8.8 miles from the border, across a large Toyota manufacturing plant. Located 0.75 miles from the highway, the monastery sits atop a hill about 800 feet high.
The web link is www.trinitariansofmary.org.
Mother Lillie, founder of Mt. Tabor Monastery, Tecate, MX
Mother Lillie, founder of Mt. Tabor Monastery, Tecate, MX
Have you ever been in the presence of a saint?
In May 1991, Lucie and I stood in line at the entrance of Pope John Paul II's Vatican residence, adjacent to St. Peter's Basilica. The year before, as we waited for a papal audience, the meeting was abruptly canceled because the pope had to leave for an emergency. This time, we were uncertain if some other occurrence might interfere with the much-anticipated meeting. To our relief, our pilgrim group was summoned to ascend the flight of stairs leading to the Papal chamber.
I vividly remember when Pope John Paul II stepped into the room. Time froze, the chamber brightened, we stood in awe -- moments etched forever in our collective memories. We were in the presence of someone not just charismatic but extraordinary.
Saints are usually portrayed with the golden halo we are all familiar with. It is said that the artist's circular halo actually represents the transcendent aura that emanates from living saints. In the 16th century, for instance, people claimed they saw St. Philip Neri's countenance shine as he celebrated Mass. And this was one saint who was known to be a practical joker, occasionally appearing in public in comical outfits or with only half of his beard shaved, just to make people laugh.
I dare say I witnessed, as many people have, the same saintly aura around Pope John Paul II. Likewise, I have seen it in the face of Sr. Mary Gregory, a 94-yr-old Benedictine nun who used to teach laypeople centering and contemplative prayer at the Perpetual Adoration Monastery in Mission Bay but who has since relocated to our Lady of Rickenbach in Missouri.
I have seen it in the face of Sr. Antonia Brenner, the legendary “Angel of Mercy” missionary nun who has lived in a Tijuana prison cell since 1986, ministering to convicted criminals. And I often noticed it in the demeanor of Fr. Luke Dougherty, the Benedictine monk at Prince of Peace Abbey in Oceanside who was spiritual director to bishops, priests, nuns, deacons, etc.
Collectively, I have not seen so many of these in one room than when I make my retreat at the Immaculate Heart of Mary / New Camaldoli Hermitage in Big Sur, California. Those hermit monks are the holiest (and happiest) people I have ever had the privilege to count as friends.
Recently, we visited Mt. Tabor Monastery in Tecate, Mexico, to see the pilgrim statue of Our Lady of Fatima, which was stopping by Tecate on its way to San Diego.
After praying in the chapel before the statue of Our Lady of Fatima, we were beckoned by our pastor, Fr. Ed Horning, a very pious priest and an oblate of the order. He wanted to introduce us to Mother Lillie, the foundress of Mt. Tabor Monastery.
Approaching Mother Lillie, I instantly sensed the subtle but unmistakable brilliance around her. In awe, I bent down and took her hand respectfully to kiss it. In turn, she took my hand -- -- and to my utter amazement, kissed it. Taking my wife's hand, Mother Lillie also kissed it, saying she wanted to bless our healing hands.
I have never had my hand kissed by a living saint. And I would be very surprised if it ever happened again. It is at once a humbling and uplifting experience that is difficult to put into words.
Mother Lillie could easily be what Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta was fifty years ago, before her television interview with Malcolm Muggeridge brought her to the center of the world stage.
Mother Lillie has a very interesting life story. She was born in 1951 in Nogales, Mexico but was raised in the US. She wanted to enter the convent at age 14 but her father, who was an atheist, would not allow her. Married at age 17, she has two daughters and several grandchildren. A lovely granddaughter was with her when we visited the monastery.
She entered the Carmelite order in San Diego as an oblate after her marriage fell apart, then founded the congregation -- The Trinitarians of Mary -- after a momentous pilgrimage to Fatima in 1992.
Like Mother Teresa who received her "call within a call" on the train ride to her retreat in Darjeeling, Mother Lillie received her call in Fatima, Portugal. Later, Mother Lillie conferred with Mother Teresa about her calling to found a new order. Mother Teresa advised her that the best way was to simply stand aside and allow God to do the work.
She did exactly what Mother Teresa said. Without food, water, electricity, or money, Sr. Lillie Diaz established Mt. Tabor Monastery on a mountain in Tecate. Soon, young women from the United States and Mexico joined her mission. Since its founding, the religious order has experienced very rapid growth. In Mexico, there are about 40 nuns from different nationalities. Mother Lillie currently stays in the second house in San Diego, with a smaller group of nuns, because she needs close medical attention.
The Trinitarian's charism focuses on adoration of the Blessed Sacrament and praying for priests and the conversion of the whole world. Like Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta's Missionaries of Charity, the nuns wear traditional habits. Unlike religious orders who actively advocate for the ordination of nuns, Mother Lillie's sisters simply pray for and take care of priests. That difference may have something to do with why the former congregations are suffering from a lack of vocations while Mother Lillie's and Mother Teresa's are thriving.
Mother Teresa's work centered on lepers and the "poorest of the poor" in the slums of Calcutta. Mother Lillie has an orphanage with about thirty girls and conducts clinics for the surrounding region. She tells us that physicians from San Diego come to the monastery regularly to help with free medical clinics.
Mother Lillie extends an invitation to everyone to come and visit the monastery and to stay for retreats or a day of prayer. If you like to visit Mt. Tabor Monastery, you may call (011) (52) (664) 971-1092 between 9:30 AM to 11:30 AM & 2:00 PM to 5:00 PM, Monday to Saturday.
From San Diego, take I-8 east to Highway 125 south, then take Highway 94 east. Follow Highway 94 for about 29 miles, then turn onto Highway 188 south for 1.8 miles to the border crossing at Tecate.
Mt. Tabor Monastery is approximately 8.8 miles from the border, across a large Toyota manufacturing plant. Located 0.75 miles from the highway, the monastery sits atop a hill about 800 feet high.
The web link is www.trinitariansofmary.org.
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