In the heart of a lily

Once there was a lily that opened its bud for the first time under the heat of a noon-day sun. It happened in an inland pond, a lake in the heart of a city. As soon as it opened its petals, the lily-blossom saw a grove of old trees standing mid of the lake. "There's something on the trees!" -- said the lily. It felt something, Someone, the Presence of the One that created the lily: His Feet resting on top of the trees. It saw the peak of an Ancestor Mountain rising in the west, the hills looking down on the lily. It peeped through the hills and saw the plains where stood buildings, houses, and structures -- and where lived most people: the east. Farther off, it saw the gulf and the island city. "What is this place, an Eden?" asked the lily of the place of its beginning. It looked up again to the great mountain, partly hidden by its jealous and possessive Mountain Wife. "Both are meant for each other. Who can separate the two? They stand together forever!" said the lily sympathetically. (But, unless one has the faith to move and plant the wife mountain into the gulf!) It, then, panned its eyes to the right and saw the mountain sons and daughters of the Great Mountain and its wife: the mountain ranges of the city standing left of them -- and hugging. It had the chance to go up the mountains and saw the city as a great theater looking down the arena in the east. It had the chance to go down the plains and saw the city as a great cathedral: the peak, the altar. Or a wide concert arena: the peak, the stage. It had the chance to climb up the hills and saw the city as a huge cinema: the hills, the balcony -- the mountains or the plains, the big screen. The lily, in the course of its tour, noticed the feeling of a fair-weathered climate condition of the city (and typhoon-free, at that!) so unique in the whole country. But the city of its beginning has gradually lost its innocence. By its beauty and fame, it has become proud (so proud as not to accept the truth it has become proud!); and by its beauty, fame and pride will it find its own destruction. "There's still hope!" said the lily. "Humility is our last hope. But humility is beyond humility in words. Humility is, initially, recognition of the Real Presence of JESUS CHRIST in the Holy Eucharist as shown through our reverence, worship and love: first, by the priests; for, parishioners are a reflection of their own parish priests!"