By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD
We noticed our hens didn’t want to lay their eggs in the baskets we had prepared for them. The parish priest, Fr Mietek Sagan SVD, from Poland, suggested we put one ping-pong ball in each basket to deceive them. It worked, only the color of the ping-pong ball is no longer immaculately white after being incubated twice.
By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD
By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD
Our regular readers are more familiar with the author as ‘Joeker Pinoy’. He is from Gaang, a small village in Barangay Dangoy in the municipality of Lubuagan in the landlocked province of Kalinga in northern Luzon. The former province of Kalinga-Apayao became two separate provinces in 1995.I boarded air-conditioned OA Travel and Tour bus no AS54392H in Accra, capital of Ghana, bound for Techiman on 29 October 2007.
Just a few minutes before we left at 9:45 in the evening, a stocky man in a red T-shirt standing in the center aisle, requested in full confidence all passengers to be silent. Then he started praying so fervently in a plethora of words that I could feel everyone was deeply moved. After a lengthy prayer, he finally ended, looking from the back to the front seats and again from the front to the back seats, obviously expecting donations or ‘love offerings’. Seeing no action, he reluctantly turned toward the door with a rather long face. ‘Did he really intend to pray for us or did he have an ulterior motive?’ I asked myself, thinking that the man had cut a somewhat pathetic figure. 
By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD
In Nchiraa village, a Methodist choirmaster died. I was asked on the spot to give a homily during his funeral held on a stage in an open field. I was not prepared and my first thought was to look for an exit or, at least, an excuse. After struggling with my introduction, it began to rain heavily. The people began to disperse when I exploded: ‘Death is like the rain. When it rains, life comes to standstill. When death comes, life too comes to a standstill,’ and I ran for cover myself. I think that was the best homily I ever gave. When it rains here, especially in the villages, literally, there is no work, no Church services, no classes . . .
A Catholic woman was bitten by a deadly poisonous snake at Njao, one of my outstations. Rushed to the hospital she survived. ‘While being carried what did you do?’ I asked her during the catechism class. ‘I placed my rosary in my mouth, Father.’
The catechist turned to me saying, ‘Now, I understand why she said a while ago she could not pray then’.
Browny, my lively dog, wagged his tail excitedly while jumping on me, expecting some bones. ‘Browny, you are so smelly!’ I yelled. ‘Yes, Father,’ a voice replied from the kitchen. It was Mary Yaa Abrafi, our cook.
During our Renewal Course in Steyl, Holland, our group was to report last. ‘That’s good,’ I thought, ‘since many things would have been reported already. I’ll just shorten my report.’ ‘You must report all the details even if they have been reported already,’ said Fr Peter McHugh SVD, our professor, who at once read my intentions. Luckily, while I was reporting, photographers of Steyl Mission Magazine, Stat Gottes, barged in to take pictures of our class, distracting my audience. Saved by the bell!
One talk in the Nemi Renewal Course was on how to express anger. I shared with the group that in Japan, there’s a replica of the Boss in the basement of a particular factory. Workers who dislike or get annoyed with the Boss can go down and ‘pulverize’ his replica with kicks and Manny Pacquiao-like punches. After that they feel better and go back to work again. Coming to the point I said, ‘Imagine you’re a tennis player and see the ball as the head of someone whom you simply don’t get along with, you’ll certainly hit it like a mad man . . . Everybody will befriend you’.
That Sunday, the gospel reading was about the cure of the demoniac. During the homily, a fearful noise was created by a flock of small bats flying from the ceiling of the church as if the roof was falling down. Looking up I screamed, ‘Those are the evil spirits running away.’ The adults and children laughed as the catechist interpreted what I said.
