Ordinary Miracles in the Seminary

His brother seminarians would say that he was incorrigible. His teachers thought likewise, in the same way that I did. He would remain in bed longer after the rising bell, be noisy in class, and do the same during the study period, when silence is expected of them.

Lately, an elder seminarian came to me and reported his latest misdemeanor: being noisy during study period. And, despite the fact that his attention was being called, he carried on as if nothing happened. I decided to call him once again, for what seemed to be the nth time.

I waited for him patiently in my study, thinking of what to say to this child this time. He came, knocked and entered the room slowly, anticipating the scolding that he was sure would rain down on him. I told him to sit down before me, asking him what happened this time. He spoke in a whisper, eyes brimming with tears, fearful of the storm that he perceived was gathering behind my question. He admitted once again to the reported misdemeanor, for the nth time asked pardon for the offense committed, and waited for the reprimand. He reminded me of a dog expecting a beating, with its tail between its legs.

I looked at him through my glasses, and talked to him with a level voice, not raising it at all. “Yes, I know you’re sorry”, I said. “But somehow you’re being sorry doesn’t seem to do anything for you. You don’t seem to make any effort to change. What good is it to say sorry when you do the same things over and over again?”

The boy sat with his eyes downcast. And then I continued: “Here’s what you’re going to do. Tomorrow, you’re going to rise at the first sound of the bell, shower and prepare for morning prayers. You need to be down before the five-minute warning bell. You will try hard to be attentive at class. And then at the end of the day, you will report to me whether you have made these things. If you have, tell me. If you haven’t, in all honesty, tell it to me also. We shall see how you do. Now you may go”.

The next day proved to be a hectic one. Three Mass schedules, an evening class, and some errands. I was out of the seminary for the greater part of the day, immersed in many things. When night finally came, I was finally preparing to end a really crazy day, a tiring one, when I heard somebody knocking at my door.

What could it be now? I muttered to myself. I waited a moment before answering the door, half hoping that the “intruder” would just give up and go away. But the knocking, though timid, was persistent. I finally went to the door, and opened it.

In the penumbra outside the door, I could make out the features of the boy whom I had made out the challenge the night before. In the hustle and bustle of the day that was just ending, I had completely forgotten about him.

I peered at him in the darkness as he timidly said, “Father, I was able to do what you asked: I woke up at the sound of the bell, was down before the warning bell, and I tried to be more attentive at class today”.
I listened to him, and smiling contentedly, I said:“Very well, let’s try it again tomorrow, shall we? Let’s give it another shot”. Then he was off, disappearing into the darkness of the building.

I closed the door and headed towards my table. The weight of the day seemed to have lifted up from my shoulders. What a consolation! What a solace it had given me, I mused, to learn that at least today somebody had taken the courage to be better than yesterday! I felt a quiet joy as I gazed at a figurine of Jesus carrying a lamb in his arms, which I had earlier placed on my table. If we, evil as we are, are joyful at seeing somebody today deciding to become better than yesterday, how much more would the Good Shepherd feel in encountering the one that was lost. How infinite must be the joy of the running Father in order to meet and embrace the lost son who has finally come home!

I sat down in silence for a long time. Despite the exhaustion of the day’s labors, it was not lived in vain because of that boy’s decision to be better. Today somebody grew up a bit more, and I appreciated something more clearly. We may tend to think that miracles are extraordinary happenings. I could say that they could also occur in the ordinariness of our life. Whenever a person changes for the better, whenever somebody learns something new or sees something in a new light, this is also a miracle. Today’s miracle has certainly made this day worth it!

Fr. Ivo is presently the Prefect of Disciplineof the Sacred Heart Seminary (High School Department) of the Archdiocese of Palo, Leyte. He finishedhis seminary formation at the BIDASOA International Seminary in Pamplona, Spain in 2007 and a Licentiate in Church History at the University of Navarra, Pamplona in May this year.

Fr. Ivo Acebedo Velasquez /Contributor