SOME DANGERS ON MY DOMINICAN JOURNEY
FAUSTO GOMEZ OP
First danger: An unfortunate and dangerous event. Some weeks before we were going to Madrid (June 1958), we had an excursion or a whole-day outing. A brother and I escaped from the excursion and went by auto-stop to our respective towns – Papatrigo and El Oso, which were about 24 kilometers from Avila. We had everything well arranged. We were going to come back at night and had two brothers waiting for us: one would open the main gate and another, a window of the studentate. Unfortunately, we were seen by a brother cooperator who told the fathers after lunch the next day. The Master of Students, a delicate and kind soul, Fr. Luis Lopez, punished us with a 3-day light retreat only. Thank God, he did not expel us! It was very wrong: we should have thought of the possible consequences. Then I realized why my mother was not so happy about my forbidden visit, although – as usual – she did not say anything but just prepared a good lunch. My mother loved silence, especially when one may be inclined to criticize: “We only live four days, really; I do not want to be in bad terms with anyone”).
Second danger: Postponing my ordination to the Diaconate. Before accepting to be ordained as a Deacon, I had an apparent serious doubt about my vocation and decided to postpone my ordination to the Deaconate: I asked my confessor, a secular Spanish priest, and two Dominican fathers. They told me: “It is up to you.” We had the community retreat in September 1961. I consulted with my professor in Homiletics, a saintly man, Fr. Dominic. At the end of the retreat, I was certain I had to go on: then and there, I was so happy, so outrageously happy. What was my main problem? This question: Who wanted me to be a Dominican, my mother or me? I was totally convinced that it was me and my mother. One more note: It was in Washington that I really had encounters with women. We were allowed to go to parties with friends (understandably, it was not so in Avila and in Madrid, where then we lived as monks). The Lord was kind to me: I liked young women, of course; but not one in particular!
Third danger: A doubting priest? As a priest, I never had a serious doubt about my vocation, but certainly I could have been less a sinner and more a good religious. After Vatican II (1962-1965), many priests and religious left their vocation. Apparently, many among us became too lax: instead of following the Council’s imperative of opening the windows of the Church to the world, many Catholics became not just in the world, but of the world. I, too, became worldly and a bit careless with my Dominican vocation, which I always loved. At some point, I had too much activity. As I told the Provincial Chapter in 1997 in Valladolid: “Martha, Martha, or Fausto, Fausto, where are you going?”
Fourth danger: The danger of leaving! In the post-Vatican II aggiornamento (right and wrong interpretations), why did I not leave, like many diocesan and religious priests? Why did I continue when many of my co-novices, including the two who went with me to study in Washington D.C.? God knows. I am most grateful to God, to his infinite mercy, for keeping me a Dominican, and usually a joyful Dominican priest. I think I continue as a Dominican not because I am better than those who left: certainly not. I stayed by reason of the mercy of God, the help of Mother Mary and the prayers of other holy people, above all, of my mother. I am a miserable sinner; but I have tried seriously to be faithful – even in my super-active and dangerous years – to my daily Mass, my daily reciting of the Divine Office and the Rosary of Mary, and my going regularly to confession. I am convinced, moreover, that God had to make little miracles, with some caresses in difficult times (I am sure of these) to keep me a Dominican.
Besides the normal difficulties and obstacles of the way of my Dominican life, there is one that limited my preaching and writing: doing these not in my maternal language – Spanish – but in one that I learned somehow after being 21 years old – English. I should have done more effort to learn better Tagalog and a little Cantonese. Probably, this obstacle and the continuing distance from my roots, from my parents and family, constitute part of my light cross.
Fifth danger: Why have I stayed in Macau for more than 14 years? God knows. Certainly, thanks to God’s merciful Providence. Why was I not tempted – not even once – to go back from Macau to Manila? The Good Lord did not allow me to question my stay, and try to go back to the apparently greener pasture of UST (Manila). I never have had any doubt. I consider it God’s grace the happiness and joy I lived in the Philippines, particularly in the University of Santo Tomas (UST) and with my brothers in San Juan City (Metro Manila). I am also happy in Macau, in a very different environment. After all, what gives meaning to life is the true happiness that comes from practicing virtues and our vows, thus following the Virtuous One.