I wrote a prayer from the perspective of the Prodigal Son in my previous post. This is a reflection from the perspective of the Elder Son, the one who stayed behind to be his father’s heir. What things in your life right now do you do only for the sake of responsibility? How has your … Continue reading The Son Who Stayed
This was something I wrote just before I left the Jesuits. It’s a very special poem for me, not only because of the things I went through when I was writing the poem, but because in many ways, it is something that continues to be true for me today. We journey through life thinking that … Continue reading Prayer of the Prodigal Son
Those translations do not capture the beauty of the original Greek. In the Greek version, the distant country/ the malayong lupain is Chora Makra. Chora Makra means the ‘the Great Emptiness’. The son did not just go to a ‘distant country’, he went to a place of seeming no return. We have a similar word in Filipino to describe someone who has separated himself from the rest of the world and acts as if he has nothing to lose: NAGWALA. Nagwala ang anak.
I wrote the original (Filipino) version many years ago, for my philo professor, Fr. Roque Ferriols. The english version I wrote recently in a fit of inspiration during the storm Maring that devastated the whole of Metro Manila, the Philippines. I had written it in a fit of inspiration while watching a moth fly near … Continue reading Metamorphosis
by Eric Santillan One of the most iconic stories of the bible is that of the Prodigal Son. I've written a poem from the perspective of the younger son before. This is a reflection on the story from the perspective of the Elder Son, the one who stayed behind to be his father's heir. May … Continue reading The Son Who Stayed
Many people who visit Baguio and the Lady of Lourdes Grotto do not know that the Jesuit Retreat House called Mirador is on top of it. This is where the Jesuits go every summer for villa (vacation) and retreat. This was written many years ago when I saw hundreds of people go up the steps of the Grotto on a particularly busy Saturday. I prayed to Mary just when it was around 12 midnight, no one else was there, and I imagined this scene take place...
A poem by Eric Santillan.
I remember writing this for Father Roque Ferriols, my Philosophy professor who is known as the Father of Filipino Philosophy. I gave this to him during our oral exams. And we talked about this poem instead of talking about the thesis statements.