`To be poor and obscure’

To be poor and obscure. This is the antithesis of being wealthy and famous. Nothing wrong with being wealthy and famous per se because so much good could also be achieved by being so. But something goes wrong when going there and remaining there become an all-consuming desire that defines a person’ s ``VMG’’ (vision-mission goals, FYI).

But what value, you ask, does being poor and obscure has?

Read Karl Gaspar’s ``To be Poor and Obscure: The Spiritual Sojourn of a Mindanawon.’’ Karl is not exactly poor if the national poverty line is to be used. And he is not unknown to development workers, social scientists and church workers immersed among the truly poor and obscure.

May I say early on that the book is not about darkness and despair. It is, in fact, a smiling book. The cover already tells you that. I judge a book also by its cover, you know.

When you read ``To be Poor and Obscure’’ you enter the world not just of Karl but of the people for whom he has committed his life. Before Karl decided to become a Redemptorist Brother in 1987 (when he was 40), he was already a noted a social scientist and veteran church development worker. Karl was detained for two years during the martial law years, an experience that added color to his worldview.

Karl has several books to his name but ``To be Poor and Obscure’’ would probably the most confessional but in a very relaxed, soothing and loving way. It is a long way from his 1985 ``How Long?: Prison Reflections.’’



But the book is not of the chicken-soup variety. Karl offers the analytic views of a social scientist (he has sociology, economics and Philippine studies degrees) and more importantly, the stirrings of his heart. Here is one love affair.

As Fr. Jose Mario C. Francisco SJ wrote in the foreword: ``As one walks through these confessional essays, one encounters Karl and his world where the personal, political, and spiritual are interwoven into an intricate Lumad design. Here he reveals himself as a true anthropologist, a radical lover of humankind in the particular persons and communities he lives and works with in his homeland Mindanao.’’

Yes, a lumad flavor, if you will. The indigenous communities (lumad) provide contrast and balance to the weight of Western-style Christianity and Jesuit education that people like Karl carry around. A first-generation Mindanawon (Karl’s parents settled in Mindanano in the 1940s), he was privy to the world of both the lowland settlers and the lumad.

But why keep on describing Karl and his book when they could very well speak directly to us?

From the essay ``To Die a Thousand Deaths’’:

``We, the settlers in Mindanao are a lot poorer than the Lumad and Moro…The stories about their ancestors remain intact in their memories…No wonder we are a fragmented people, a lost tribe floating aimlessly, unable to get our act together. No wonder we have turned against…each other. Because we have not been able to ground ourselves in the affectionate memory of having the same ancestors, we are lost.

``My appreciation of ancestors actually came from two fronts: first was my anthropological fascination with epics and genealogies, and second, my interest in Scriptures which are filled with story after story of Jesus’ ancestors. In fact, I also relate to Jesus as if He were my ancestor…

``To compensate in some small way, I have worked to see to it that the tradition lives on. Working among Lumad, for example, I tell them how lucky they are to be bonded to their ancestors and exhort them to hold on to this aspect of their lives.

``In Kulaman, I keep on telling government officials that names of villages should not be changed because many of these names—Midtungok, Tudog, Baltakan, Nati, Midfanga, Malegdeg, Blangas, Mantil—were of actual people who inhabited this land long before settlers came over.’’

From ``To Hold God’s Face in One’s Hands’’: ``I remember how touched I was by their use of metaphors to articulate deep meanings. I was quite moved by the innocent simplicity in how they described God’s efficacious love for them. There were moments when I realized I was poorer in terms of having such depth of faith in God’s providence.

``However, I was an angry young man then and in a bit of a hurry to see results in terms of our organizing work. I had little time to be still. I couldn’t bring integration to all the phenomena erupting everywhere; I was unable to view reality holistically. I couldn’t piece together the fragments of lived experiences…

``Back in the grassroots as a Redemptorist Brother, I found myself more able to absorb the meanings of signs and symbols that I was confronted with. The sustained immersion at the grassroots level provided adequate time to listen to people’s dreams and hopes. Encountering rural families and communities in prayer and liturgical celebrations—in their homes, under the canopy of trees, by the side of a river, in thatched-roof chapels—provided the venue for faith-life sharing where God’s presence became more palpable.’’

Karl’s lead essay explains what ``To be Poor and Obscure’’ is all about. ``Located in its hidden landscape, you are nobody. You won’t be projected in media; no one out there is bombarded with images of your noble commitments. You have disappeared into this setting that allows you to blend into a nondescript space that exists only in the people’s and your own consciousness…

``What am I doing here? Crossing a flooded river or getting lost in the forest also has led me to tell myself: I don’t have to be here…’’

The book tells you why Karl, and other people like him, have chosen to be there.

(The book is available at the Center for Spirituality-Manila, 7279772, 7213391.)