by Bishop Pablo “Ambo” S. David
posted in Facebook on October 15, 2019
He looked lost when I first saw him in front of the Mother of Good Counsel Seminary. I can’t even recall exactly what year it was; perhaps between 2000-2005. I was not yet a bishop then.
He was trying to find his way to the lobby to get some help from a porter or a receptionist. He was only a little above five feet tall, grey-haired, bespectacled, and walking briskly with a hint of a limp. He looked up at me when I approached him and he said, “Are you from here, Sir?” I said, “Yes, I am one of the seminary formators. How can I help you?” He promptly introduced himself and said, “I am Father Gustavo from Peru.” I extended my hand and I said, “I am Father Pablo David,” as I shook his hand. His handshake was firm and his smile was warm. “Are you looking for the Archbishop?” I asked. He answered, “Oh no. I am on my way to Baguio city. I have just come from Manila, from the Loyola School of Theology.” I smiled and said, “I am an alumnus of that school myself, Father.” His eyes lit up and he said, “Then you know Father Arevalo?”
After explaining to him that I could not have studied at LST if I did not know Father Arevalo, he laughed and proceeded to explain to me that Father Arevalo had advised him to drop by this “interesting School of Theology” in Pampanga to meet with a group of professors there who are a combination of Rome-graduates and Louvain-graduates. He said he wanted to meet the graduates of the Faculty of Theology in the Catholic University of Louvain in Belgium because he was himself a graduate of that School. I quickly told him that I was one of them and that there were four others, and that, as a matter of fact, we were just getting ready for our noon break and that he could join us for lunch if his time allowed it. “That is very nice of you,” he said, as I led him to the seminary fathers’ refectory.
The seminary formators and professors were still in the ante-room of the refectory, browsing through the newspapers on the table while waiting for the rest. Some of them looked at the stranger I was with as soon as we entered. I clinked a glass to call the attention of the rest of them and I said, “Brothers, we have a guest from Peru. He was advised by Father Arevalo to drop by our place to get to meet us, especially the Louvain graduates among us. He is apparently a Louvain graduate himself. May I introduce to you Father Gustavo...” I looked at him and apologized that I didn’t get his family name. He quickly replied and said, “Father Gustavo Gutierrez from Peru.”
With mouth agape and eyes literally popping out, I said very awkwardly, “You mean THE Gustavo Gutierrez? THE Liberation theologian?” He laughed as he nodded his head and said, “Yes to both.” My colleagues delightfully clapped their hands as they welcomed our esteemed guest. One of them, Father Ninoy Canlas, the most senior among us Louvain graduates from Pampanga, approached our guest and said, “May I hug THE GUSTAVO GUTIERREZ? What an honor to have you with us, Professor!” I quickly introduced Father Ninoy Canlas as our Dean and professor of Systematic Theology. As Gutierrez opened his arms and gamely gave a friendly hug to Father Ninoy, he looked at the rest of us and said, “Who else are the Louvain graduates here?” I introduced the rest to him: Father Victor Nicdao, professor of New Testament specialized in Pauline Literature, Father Josel Henson, professor of Dogmatic Theology, Father Elmer Dizon, professor of Moral Theology, and myself, professor of Old Testament specialized in prophetic and apocalyptic literature.
Someone had the bright idea of preserving the memory of this encounter by asking for a photo op, using a jurassic Nokia cell phone. After that, we proceeded to the refectory and brought out some red wine from the cup board to celebrate the presence of a man who, by then, had already gained the ire of the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, then still headed by Cardinal Ratzinger, who would soon become Pope Benedict XVI.
His final words as we clinked our glasses for a last toast were, “Thank you for making me feel so welcome. Surely you know that I am not welcome in other Schools of Theology, don’t you?” We all laughed heartily and he continued to speak to us like a long-lost friend as we walked with him to the lobby and saw him off. He was still waving his hand at us from the car’s passenger seat as the car exited from our Seminary gate.
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