‘I spit on your grave!’
For the times when too exasperated to say anything else, some say this. In jest. It relieves the tension and makes one roar with laughter. Just imagine enacting the gesture and feeling dastardly good about it.
But what if the situation is so serious and severe that human nature would seek nothing less than the fulfillment of the law of retaliation? An eye for an eye. Suffer and bleed. Match the injury, and ultimately, die. For the horror and the torment inflicted on the body, mind, heart, and spirit.
Meet Bishop Leopoldo Joucian or Pol. He was one of eight children whose life was turned upside down because his father was wrongly accused of killing the wife of an influential politician in the solid province of the North. Hastily and without due process, his father was put behind bars. His mother, helpless and desperate, was forced to split and distribute her innocent brood to relatives in far-flung provinces.
Pol was placed in Quezon City, serving as a sacristan in the Society of the Divine Word Mission (SVD). He took care of sacred vessels, vestments and assisted the clergy in religious service. The elders encouraged him to become a priest. With assistance from benefactors, Pol continued his education in Taiwan, immersing in Philosophy, picking up Mandarin, and becoming fluent in speaking it.
When he returned from Taiwan, he was sent to another parish. He was active in the Chinese community and was ordained a bishop and moved to Abra. It was in the treacherous, isolated and mountainous barrios of Manabo that Pol was challenged to extend his vision of peace to those separated by distance and circumstances. There, he taught and evangelized, “Our Father is full of mercy and compassion.”
In one of his regular visits, something unexpected happened. The topic of conversation zeroed in on the man who summarily put his father in jail. Reliving that episode in his head, Pol trembled. “May I see him?”
The guide replied, “Oh, Bishop, he recently died.”
Pol got a hold of himself, “Can you take me to where he is buried?”
The man replied, “I’ll take you.”
Standing by the grave of the man who caused his family immeasurable grief, what thoughts raced through Pol’s mind?
“Do it, Pol. Spit on his grave!”
Pol heaved a deep sigh. He felt like he was cut open to reveal old wounds. He clutched his chest and, turning to his guide, asked, “Can you please get me some holy water?” The guide obliged with a quizzical frown on his brow.
Holding the bottle of blessed water, Pol closed his eyes, now swelling with tears. He raised the bottle and with finality whispered, “I forgive you.”
Back in Abra, a woman approached Pol and begged, “Bishop, please help me. The hospital won’t release my daughter unless I pay the bill. I don’t have money.” A lightning jolt hit Pol. This woman was married to the man who put his father in jail. She was totally bewildered, burdened with anxiety and fear. Quickly, Pol responded, “Come with me.” At seeing Pol, the hospital director changed his tune. “Everything’s fine, Bishop. We are charging her fees to charity.”
“I didn’t reveal myself to the woman,” Pol remarked.
A few months passed and Pol was asked to celebrate Mass for the inmates inside the bilibid. Pol could not explain what happened next. When he reached the prison gates, his muscles froze. He couldn’t move. Scenes from his childhood came flashing by. “These were the same gates that kept my father locked up,” he choked. Could the hurtful past haunt you again and again? Could the memory harbor pain as if you had gone off the deep end?
When Bishop Pol related his experience with the community of the Sto. Niño Chapel in Greenbelt Makati (celebrating its 33rd anniversary), his voice cracked as he struggled not to let the tears fall.
Where did he find the courage to forgive?
“It is only through God’s mercy that we are given the grace to follow what He has done Himself: “Forgive, as I have forgiven you.”
In a parallel story, the young 12-year-old Maria Goretti was stabbed several times by her rapist/assailant. As life slipped away, Maria begged her mother, “Tell him that I forgive him and I want him to go to heaven.” When Maria was declared a saint, her assailant was there to witness it, standing next to her mother, broken by the weight of his guilt. He spent the rest of his life in prayer and contemplation.
Chaplain Father Jun Sescon, grateful to Bishop Pol for his presence, bade the community, “Remember that God has graced us first. He has forgiven and blessed us.”
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P. S. A witness came forward who testified that Bishop Pol’s father was in fact, out to sea, fishing at early dawn, when the heinous crime was committed.
