Fr. Eduardo Hontiveros S.J.
By Teodoro Bacani Jr.
Mabunga, not mabongga (productive, not ostentatious) is how I would characterize the late Fr. Eduardo Hontiveros S.J., who died on Jan. 14, and whose mortal remains were buried last Saturday. As if to confirm this assessment, one newspaper write-up on him began with the words, “While his name may not ring a bell, his music certainly does” (Beverly Trinidad).
At the funeral mass, Fr. Catalino Arevalo S.J., a classmate of his who had known him for 57 years, made a homily which was a moving tribute to the man Jesuits called “Eddie,” and whom we, San Jose Seminary alumni, called “Father Honti.” Father Arevalo structured his homily around three points: (1) Father Honti’s joy and song, (2) his goodness and gentleness, and (3) his suffering.
Father Honti was indeed a happy man. His happiness showed in his whole body and demeanor, his face, his smile, his laughter. You felt good when Father Honti was around. When he and Father Arevalo came from their doctoral studies to teach theology in San Jose Seminary, they introduced a new way of being professors. They mingled with us, their students, during break time and recreation. They came down from their ivory towers to share with us their humanity. When we gathered around Father Arevalo, we had serious talk, usually. But with Father Honti there was much laughter. He was a person who was always “light on the soul” (if I may borrow a phrase from Ambassador Tita de Villa).
You can feel this joy in his compositions. “When the heart is happy, it sings,” said St. Augustine. Father Honti not only sang. He composed songs which our people have been singing happily for many years. According to Father Arevalo, he composed 400 songs, and some of them at short notice when needed for an important occasion. “Pananagutan” is perhaps his most recognizable song, but it is likely that the Filipino songs you sing at mass are his compositions. Father Gil Alinsangan SSP, commented that through his songs, he has had even greater effect on our people than many preachers and writers. “Imagine how many millions have sung his songs,” Father Gil added. And indeed, how many! Father Arevalo said that Filipinos have sung his songs in Iceland (!) and in Rome as well as in other foreign lands.
His goodness and gentleness was so common and routine to him that you were not so much awed by him as touched by him. Bishop Nes Ongtioco of Cubao shared with me an example of how he kept his cool even when one of the seminarians (in the turbulent ’70s when Father Honti was San Jose Seminary rector) demonstrated outside one of the classrooms. He took him gently by the shoulders, led him away, and talked to him like a father. When I searched my memory files for any incident when I saw Father Honti lose his temper, I could recall none. He showed the gentle power of simple goodness, not only by his equanimity but by sharing with others gladly and quickly what he had.
His sufferings. Father Honti suffered a stroke 17 years ago, from which he never fully recovered. As Father Ferriols said, in his homily during the first mass for Father Honti, Father Honti loved to talk, and he could no longer talk. He loved to sing, but he could no longer sing. But he kept his smile and his laughter. Strangely, but fittingly enough, it was his sufferings that showed the quality of Father Honti’s faith, hope and love. I have known of great churchmen growing cranky when illness stopped them in their tracks. But Father Honti was like gold purified by the fire of his illness. One fellow Jesuit, Fr. Bill McGarry, who is in charge of the Jesuit tertians here in the Philippines, said to me, “Even if he had never composed any song, he would be for me one of the best Jesuits I have known, because of the way he conducted himself in his illness.” If the quality of our humanity and our Christianity is shown best in times of adversity, Father Honti showed us by the serenity of his love in times of prolonged illness the deep humanity and Christian faith from which his songs emanated.
At the end of the funeral mass last Saturday, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo conferred posthumously the Presidential Medal of Merit on Fr. Eduardo Hontiveros S.J. While the congregation appreciated the award and showed its appreciation by giving Father Honti a standing ovation, we can be confident that he had been given a much higher award by the Merciful Savior. Perhaps they might even have already held a concert of all his songs sung by the angelic choir in tribute to his fruitfulness as God’s faithful servant who helped us sing God’s praises with his songs.
Mabunga, not mabongga (productive, not ostentatious) is how I would characterize the late Fr. Eduardo Hontiveros S.J., who died on Jan. 14, and whose mortal remains were buried last Saturday. As if to confirm this assessment, one newspaper write-up on him began with the words, “While his name may not ring a bell, his music certainly does” (Beverly Trinidad).
At the funeral mass, Fr. Catalino Arevalo S.J., a classmate of his who had known him for 57 years, made a homily which was a moving tribute to the man Jesuits called “Eddie,” and whom we, San Jose Seminary alumni, called “Father Honti.” Father Arevalo structured his homily around three points: (1) Father Honti’s joy and song, (2) his goodness and gentleness, and (3) his suffering.
Father Honti was indeed a happy man. His happiness showed in his whole body and demeanor, his face, his smile, his laughter. You felt good when Father Honti was around. When he and Father Arevalo came from their doctoral studies to teach theology in San Jose Seminary, they introduced a new way of being professors. They mingled with us, their students, during break time and recreation. They came down from their ivory towers to share with us their humanity. When we gathered around Father Arevalo, we had serious talk, usually. But with Father Honti there was much laughter. He was a person who was always “light on the soul” (if I may borrow a phrase from Ambassador Tita de Villa).
You can feel this joy in his compositions. “When the heart is happy, it sings,” said St. Augustine. Father Honti not only sang. He composed songs which our people have been singing happily for many years. According to Father Arevalo, he composed 400 songs, and some of them at short notice when needed for an important occasion. “Pananagutan” is perhaps his most recognizable song, but it is likely that the Filipino songs you sing at mass are his compositions. Father Gil Alinsangan SSP, commented that through his songs, he has had even greater effect on our people than many preachers and writers. “Imagine how many millions have sung his songs,” Father Gil added. And indeed, how many! Father Arevalo said that Filipinos have sung his songs in Iceland (!) and in Rome as well as in other foreign lands.
His goodness and gentleness was so common and routine to him that you were not so much awed by him as touched by him. Bishop Nes Ongtioco of Cubao shared with me an example of how he kept his cool even when one of the seminarians (in the turbulent ’70s when Father Honti was San Jose Seminary rector) demonstrated outside one of the classrooms. He took him gently by the shoulders, led him away, and talked to him like a father. When I searched my memory files for any incident when I saw Father Honti lose his temper, I could recall none. He showed the gentle power of simple goodness, not only by his equanimity but by sharing with others gladly and quickly what he had.
His sufferings. Father Honti suffered a stroke 17 years ago, from which he never fully recovered. As Father Ferriols said, in his homily during the first mass for Father Honti, Father Honti loved to talk, and he could no longer talk. He loved to sing, but he could no longer sing. But he kept his smile and his laughter. Strangely, but fittingly enough, it was his sufferings that showed the quality of Father Honti’s faith, hope and love. I have known of great churchmen growing cranky when illness stopped them in their tracks. But Father Honti was like gold purified by the fire of his illness. One fellow Jesuit, Fr. Bill McGarry, who is in charge of the Jesuit tertians here in the Philippines, said to me, “Even if he had never composed any song, he would be for me one of the best Jesuits I have known, because of the way he conducted himself in his illness.” If the quality of our humanity and our Christianity is shown best in times of adversity, Father Honti showed us by the serenity of his love in times of prolonged illness the deep humanity and Christian faith from which his songs emanated.
At the end of the funeral mass last Saturday, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo conferred posthumously the Presidential Medal of Merit on Fr. Eduardo Hontiveros S.J. While the congregation appreciated the award and showed its appreciation by giving Father Honti a standing ovation, we can be confident that he had been given a much higher award by the Merciful Savior. Perhaps they might even have already held a concert of all his songs sung by the angelic choir in tribute to his fruitfulness as God’s faithful servant who helped us sing God’s praises with his songs.
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