While waiting for my flight home from Pittsburgh Airport, I saw these advertisements on a huge wall with very catchy colors. I just had to snap these shots and post them here.
Seriously? Can you imagine where your financial situation will end up?
If you only say this to show how witty you are, I've got to say it's pretty witty. But if you say this to sell stuffs for profits, you're really lying to people
Playing with consumers' emotion for your own good, you are genius, but evil.
A bystander happened to witness Bishop Michael Hoang Duc Oanh, Bishop of the Diocese of Kontum, picking up trash at the place where he just celebrated the Mass of the Immaculate Conception in his diocese.
He is indeed setting good example for us all.
(by the way, Kontum is where both my parents were born and grew up, and I was also born in this diocese)
Learning a new language all over again, I have a chance to re-live the experience of my first years in the US. I came to the US when I was 19. Many linguists would agree that age 19 is the “threshold” to acquire a second language to the level of near-native fluency. In other words, it is more likely for a youth under 19 (than a person over the age of 19) to acquire a second language and achieve the fluency of a native speaker. I could feel that it is no longer easy for me to remember new vocabulary as when I was learning English. The advantage I have this time is the experience of acquiring a new language, as well as the experience of teaching it to adult learners.
All that said, it is still not easy and it is still frustrating. Many times I knew I had previously learned that word or that concept, but I was just unable to get it into the dialogue. When a native speaker speaks to me in the normal speed and normal speech, I can only rely on the few words I may know, as well as the context of the conversation, in order to guess what s/he is saying. That strategy does not always work. When I say something back, I can only rely on their patience as they try to understand what I say.
Learning a new language is not the matter of knowing a bunch of vocabulary, even though it is very important to know a lot of vocabulary. Neither is it the matter of translating word by word. Learning a new language is learning a new way of forming thoughts and expressing thoughts. There are many close relations in semantics between English and Spanish, so several times I can make the connection and guess. But when it comes to conjugating verbs, it is a whole new ball game. Subject-verb agreement in English becomes child-play. We have to watch not only gender agreement, but also time agreement, mood agreement and number agreement. Adding to it are the irregular verbs. Then reflexive verbs come to place as new and demanding teachers asking us to follow the rules that we have never heard of before.
I am happy = Estoy contento (if I am a male) She is happy = Está contenta They are happy = Estan contentos
I wake up = me levanto She wakes up = se levanta She wakes me up = Ella me levanta We wake up = nos levantamos He woke up = se levantó They woke up = se levantaron
I was a teacher = Yo era un maestro, but “I was a teacher for 2 years” = Yo fui un maestro por 2 años.
The priest who is the director of our group motivated us at the beginning of the program with the advice: when learning a new language and living in the midst of a new culture, we just have to put ourselves out there. People may have the impression that we were dumb; we may feel stupid many times; there will be occasions that we just can’t get the point across; and there will be lots of misunderstandings. But they are all parts of the learning experience. Taking it in perspectives, these experiences would be even more challenging for those who are relatively articulated in their first language. For them, there would be a great adjustment to make from being able to articulate well what they want to express to having to rely on guessing and making gestures to get the point across.
So what motivates me to learn? Complements from teachers and others do help but they are not reliable. One day I could feel so smart being able to say something easily, then the next day I could feel totally stupid in front of a little kid. One comment from the host family, however, that encourages me a lot is that they are happy because at least I try to communicate and practice Spanish with them. I can spend hours in the evening finishing homework and reviewing what I learned in the morning, but the following day won’t witness the fruits of my hard work of the night before. When I wake up in the morning, what gets me going can’t be the thought that what I learned yesterday will help me today.
It is here that I find a lot of insights into the spiritual life and find a lot of connections between living spiritual life and acquiring a new language. There is a lot of trust and patience in both spiritual life and learning a new language. The new words I learn today, probably I won’t have a chance to use them by the end of this week. But the next time I use them, they could give me joy; or the next time I forget how to use them, they could give me frustration. But I just have to continue learning new words and continue putting them in use. The same thing with life: there are wounds in the past that sometimes give us joy when we see they have been healed, but there are times they give us more pain when we find out they have not been healed. But we just have to continue to live and to love, to trust and to worship God.
Then one day, being able or unable to express a thought does not really matter anymore. What matters is that we are being pulled toward a new horizon of culture and thoughts and beauty.
Then one day, being able or unable to practice a virtue does not really matter anymore. What matters is that we are being pulled toward the source of true Beauty and true Goodness.
You are probably like me, wondering what Jesus really means when he says, “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit because the kingdom of heaven is theirs.” Probably I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering about the truth behind this teaching. However, I have the blessing to witness the beauty of this truth the past week when participating in a mission trip with a group of family missionaries in General Cepeda, which is not too far from Monterey, Mexico.
Coming from Vietnam, poverty is no stranger to me, but living in a materialist country like the US for a long time makes me almost forget that poverty exists and poverty is real. Some of us may never understand what it is like to be poor. In one of our visits to the ranchos, we met a lady sitting next to what used to be her house, or rather, her hut. It is now only a pile of dirt because the rain the past week has destroyed her house. She was sitting there with her little belongings, which were only some clothes, some kitchen tools and a mattress. She let us know she slept in the only room that was still standing after the rain. One of the evenings after we got back from the ranchos, I shared the meal table with a family of four: a husband, a wife, a little kid and a baby in her mother’s arm. They were among the regular visitors of our mission house every day. There were there because they had not had anything to eat for 4 days. While eating, some missionaries had to answer the door because another family needed some cash to bring their child to a surgery in a city that was one hour away. The mission house did not have enough money so all of us visiting missionaries chipped in our little contributions. The cost was only 40 US dollars. A priest just came back from a home visit and he seemed really sad and concerned. We found out later that he was sad because of the utmost poor living condition of the family he had just visited. The wife in the family was pregnant. They lived in house built of mud, so sanitary was a luxury. No one had any means of transportation to bring her to nearest clinic which was, I guessed, an hour away driving. She only relied on the visit of a doctor that stopped by each rancho every other month. When the priest was there, he had to join with other family members trying to kill a poisonous bug that was running around the bed of the pregnant woman. He said that in the US he would have called the police immediately if he had seen any animal living in such condition. Here lived a human person who was carrying the life of another human person in such a horrendous living condition.
Because of such extreme poverty, the permanent lay missionaries at the house adopt a poor life to be in solidarity with the people they are serving, and in order to have more to share. Compare to the local people’s poverty, the little discomfort of my life the past week becomes luxurious living. I had 3 meals a day. I slept on the top bunk in a small cabin with 15 other guys. If there was a breeze at night then we could fall asleep easier. If not, we just had to lie on our beds until the temperature cooled down a little. I got to only shower every other day because we were in the dessert, so everyone had to conserve water the best way we could. The temperature during the day was in the high 80’s if not low 90’s. It was cooler at night, especially toward the morning. Telephone is extremely expensive that we just did not use them. We squeezed more people than the capacity into a van to travel on bumpy mountain roads to visits different ranchos and houses everyday.
But the joy and peace in the house is abundant. Faith is an obvious existence, and the Holy Spirit is clearly visible in our daily life. At rest time every afternoon, we just hung around, sharing stories or singing or playing table games. Our day usually starts with a family-style prayer which includes praises and thanksgivings, then sharings of what has moved each person from the experience of the previous day, or what the Holy Spirit has inspired us through our prayers and meditations. We usually close the session with petitions. The faith sharings usually inspire me very much. Like my spiritual director usually says, “you know God’s grace is strongly at work in your life when you feel like the words from the Scripture just jump off the pages.” I have had so many “a-hah” moment during this week when I recognize many teachings of the Bible, or what I have learned before came to make sense.
That woman who lost her house because of the rain, she was as peaceful and joyful as a child receiving gift on Christmas Day. She was ready and quick to share with us visitors on that day the little treats that she still had in her ruined house. When we asked if she wanted anything from us, she only asked for a rosary so that she could continue praying and praising. Do you remember how Jesus praised a widow who put in the collection box in a temple only 2 pennies? In a chapel that we visited, the local villagers put together an image of Jesus that is so simple and, bluntly, ugly. But they come and pray with all their hearts in front of the image. They touch the image for blessing as a custom of the faithful here. In the US, it is common that people spend tons of money on pain-killers in order to get some peace and little joy in whatever sufferings they have in their lives. Here, their touch to the image takes place of those pain killers. They live with the joy and peace that just put you in awe when you witness it together with their sufferings. Do you remember the woman that is cured of her sickness just by touching Jesus’ cloak, and Jesus confirmed, “you faith has saved you”? You could see that the villagers are inspired when listening to the testimonies of the lay missioners or of other fellow villagers about their experience of God’s love in their lives. Then I am inspired by the whole experience. I am pretty sure this is the similar inspiration that the two disciples on the road to Emmaus had when Jesus appeared and explained to them about the history of God’s love to his people Israel. The lay missioners were not poor people, but they commit to live a poor life. Their choice of poverty is the decision to live in solidarity with the poor, the practicality of living simply so that others can simply live. They strive to live that beatitude that Jesus taught on the Mount, “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit…”
Please don’t take my sharing here as an effort to ease the reality of poverty in the world. Poverty is poverty, and it is an evil because it brings sufferings to people. God would never want his children to live in poverty. We will never understand the reason why there is poverty in the world. I came from poor country, so this week experience is not my first ever experience of extreme poverty. I am only writing this experience down to share with you that: - poverty exists and it is real and it is painful - we can do a lot from wherever we are to help the poor: •the money for a cup of Starbuck coffee can send a pregnant woman to a hospital for a check up •a prayer every day will strengthen those on the front line helping the poor •a week spent with the missionaries will put you in close contact with the Holy Spirit •and many more different ways … - God has a special place in his heart and his eternal plan for the poor - Those who commit to help poor brothers and sisters live a blessed life - Materials are important for the quality of life, but they are not the deciding factor. We actually need very little to live a peaceful and joyful and happy life.
We visited the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe after coming back from the Pyramids of Teotihuacan. We got off the subway when it was about to rain. The one thing that bothered me quite a bit was how many venders and shops had been built near by the area. Apparently, the Basilica is the most visited Catholic shrine in Latin America and maybe in the world. On her Feast in 2009, December 11 and 12, more than 6 million people visited this place. Hers is the most venerated religious image in Latin America. Mexicans associate themselves with this image more than their Catholic faith itself.
The street from the subway station to the Basilica is crowded, but once you get to its property there is a very large space surrounded the main Basilica. It was here that Our Lady appeared to Juan Diego in the 16th century. The name of the hill was Tepeyac, on which is now built a beautiful church. The Basilica is right at the foot of this hill. The original Basilica can’t be used anymore, nor can it be repaired because the ground under it is sinking due to under-stream water. The new Basilica is built with a modern architecture, while many people still prefer the antiquity of the original Basilica. The two are just located next to each other.
Our seminarian group had Mass in one of the many chapels on the second floor. Each of these chapels has an open wall to the main sanctuary of the Basilica. So anywhere you sit in any chapel, you can see the main sanctuary. When a priest celebrates Mass in one of these chapels, the main sanctuary would be behind his back. This Basilica is an iconic place, religiously and culturally. I was, therefore, acting like a typical tourist: occupying myself with visiting all there were to visit and taking many pictures of the place. But I believe Our Lady wanted me to do what I should be doing as a faithful son rather than a tourist. After the Mass, when I was hurrying myself to climb the hill Tepeyac, it started to rain really hard. After trying several ways to get to the hill, unsuccessfully, I sensed that I should stay back with her and spend some time with God after the Mass. I was able visit the beautiful tabernacle at the side of the sanctuary, and then spend time reflecting and praying in front of her image hang at the main sanctuary.
This is the authentic image, which is the imprint of her image on the cloak of St. Juan Diego. It is considered a miracle that the cloak has not been ruined after more than 500 years, and even after a chemical accident in the past. If you have not heard of the story of her appearance, this is a short summary. Juan Diego, a peasant of the 15th century, saw a young lady of 16-17 on the hill of Tepeyac on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, December 8, 1531. She asked Juan Diego to go tell the local bishop to build a church to honor her at this place as the symbol of her presence with the people during their time of suffering. The bishop asked Juan Diego to ask the Lady for some signs to prove herself. When Juan Diego presented the bishop’s request, Our Lady told him to collect the roses on that hill. It was during winter when roses could not survive; and the roses he collected were those from the hometown of the bishop only. The bishop was from Spain. Juan Diego pulled up the front of his cloak to keep all of those roses and brought them back to the bishop. When he opened the cloak, what caused everyone present to kneel down in amazement and belief was not the roses but the image of Our Lady as we see today imprinted on his cloak.
I stayed in the Basilica to pray and really felt a close connection with her. It was still raining outside, and although I knew I might not be able to visit all there were to visit, I felt assured that I was where I was supposed to be. I prayed to her for everyone in my family, for the people who have died, for every single one of my godchildren, for my friends and for my own vocation. This is the Mother of God and my own Mother. In my whole life, I have always honored her with the title of Mary Help of Christians (from the Salesian tradition), Our Lady of La Vang (from the Vietnamese tradition), and now I felt so strongly connected to her because of her mission as the protector and guide of the continent of Americas, where I am spending my life and where my apostolate will be. I heartily prayed to her the prayer Don Bosco taught his children, “Mother, bring to completion what you have started in my life.”
The details of this image are the closest to the descriptions of the Lady in the Book of Revelation in the Bible. But these details will be for another post later.
In the D.F. trip, we visited three significant places: the pyramids at Teotihuacán, the Basilica of Guadalupe, and the Cathedral at the Center of Mexico City.
Teotihuacán is a ruin behind which reveals a rich civilization. The city expanded in an area of 14 squared miles, traced as far back as 400 years before Christ and lasted until 750 AC. There is still evidence of a progressive urban planning through the systems of drainage and of the streets and avenues covering the city. In addition to that, residents and governmental places are organized in different areas. Avenue of the Dead is the main avenue that runs north-south. Along this avenue there were great temples where the main ceremonial events of their life occurred, as well as buildings of governmental-administrative functions, and residents of priests who took care of those great temples. Still remain today are the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. Pyramid of the Sun is taller, while the steps of the Pyramid of the Moon are steeper, thus harder to climb up and down.
I wonder if this group of pyramids is one of the wonders of the world, but in my book it already is. Apparently, foreign tourists are not the only visitors of the city. It was a sunny day as any other day at the city but the breeze was just wonderful. However, I made a mistake not bringing a bottle of water with me. Between the different pyramids that we walked on that day, we must have covered at least 5 miles in the sheer sun. I haven’t talked about the climbing up and down the steep pyramids. It is a dessert, so the only kind of trees that survives is cactus, which gives no shade. I had to go look for water after climbing down from the 2nd pyramid.
The 2nd climb was of the Pyramid of the Sun. It had become difficult so much that we rested several times before reaching the top. But once reaching the top, there was a great feeling of accomplishment in addition to the great view of the whole ruined city.
Along the walks to the different pyramids, there were several people selling very cool souvenirs. If I had not been on a tight budget, I would have bought a lot of these stuffs to bring back to the US as gifts. They were selling a kind of whistle that could make the roaring sound of a mountain lion (or of a mountain cat, I’m not sure). It scared the heck out of me when one guy blew it very close to me, but only for the first time. It had become annoying toward the end of the visit because everybody was selling that whistle.
A little interesting coincidence was my meeting with some groups of boy/girl scouts along the way. They all wore uniform with the logo of Scout of Mexico. I approached several of them, scouts as well as scout masters, saluted them with the Scout sign while doing handshake by our left hands – a unique custom of the scout movement of the world. We all recognized each other to be members of a great international organization. We exchanged short conversations, telling each other where we were from then moved on (because I couldn’t handle longer conversation in Spanish, hehe). One thing I noticed was that there were a number of older kids or young men and women in those scout troops, whereas in the Boy Scouts / Girl Scouts of America, the scouts usually discontinue once they reach high school.
Our trip to Mexico City was really an adventure. Before the trip, the teachers in school told us a lot about the city, of where to visit, what to watch out for, what you buy and eat and what to avoid, etc. They all warned us about the craziness of the subway in the city. All of those warnings actually made me nervous about the trip even though I have lived and traveled to big cities in the US.
A pleasant surprise was the bus trip. The bus ride was just wonderful. I guess “autobuses” is the main transportation means in Mexico, thus the bus industry is very developed here. In big cities, there are big bus stations with so many buses that service people to different locations in the country. All long distance buses, the equivalent of Greyhound in the US, are very well equipped and comfortable. Air-condition is a given, but there are individual headsets and controls, several TV screens that show good movies along the trip, the seats are way better than the seats in any coach bus and airplane seat in the US. With the same width of the bus as of the ones in the US, there are only 3 seats per row instead of 4 or 5 as the one in the US. For the 3 hour trip from Querétaro to Mexico City, they even serve sandwich and drink. All of us were really content with the bus ride, and no one wanted to leave the bus at the end of the trip. American!
We had to take 3 different Metro lines to get to our hotel from the bus station. It was rush hour in Mexico City so you could imagine how bad it was. I am no stranger to subway trains since I’ve lived in the New Jersey/New York before, but having luggage and taking the train in a new city where you don’t know the language is a different story. At one stop, because the volume of people getting on and off the train was too great, I was pushed off the train. I had to fight my way to get back onto the same train. What an experience.
The first night in the city, we went to Tacuba restaurant. I still haven’t found out whether the name of the restaurant had anything to do with Cuban food, but the food was great. There was a group of musicians playing guitars and mandolins and singing while we eat. They were great players and singers. People just love music here. On one of the buses in the city that we took, there were two traveling artists who played really good Spanish guitar and sang. I just enjoyed them so much.
The hotel where we stayed was nice, but like most houses in the country, there was no air condition. It was cool enough during that weekend but we had to keep the fan on when we were in our rooms. Saturday night, there was some sort of party on the floor on top of mine. I wasn’t bothered by it but some others in the group couldn’t sleep because of the noise; and apparently the hotel manager couldn’t do anything to stop the noise. So if you asked some of the guys in my group, they would recommend not to stay in this hotel even though it was only 5 minute walk from the center of the city. The food served in the restaurant of this hotel was great, though a bit pricy. In the morning, there was breakfast buffet for 90 pesos (around 7 US$). There were all sorts of food, from fruits, yogurt to tacos, bread and different kinds of meat. I only wished they had opened the buffet for dinner instead. Sunday morning, since we didn’t have Mass until 12, I was able to have a full breakfast, and stayed after to watch a soccer game on TV.
There were 3 places we visited on this trip to D.F. (aka. Mexico City): the Pyramids at Teotihuacán, the Basilica of Guadalupe where our Lady appeared to St. Juan Diego, and the Cathedral at the center of the city. I will write about these places in another entry.
