Articles from the month of November!
Search-In: 2025
The 10th batch of APAN welcomes the search-inners as they begin their discernment journey.
Last November 29 until 30, 21 young students from the Visayas region took part in the Search-in program conducted by the Augustinian Vocation promotion team headed by Fr. John Jericho Mier, OSA. Within these days, the participants have been given a chance to experience the way of life and observe the practices and day-to-day routine of the novices which are centered more on prayer, silence and meditation, service to the community, and community life.
Through this engagement with the community, some inquiries addressed, some confusions were clarified, some curiosities were satisfied, and, even, a desire was planted and, to some, was felt. And so, their active participation and the presence of the community and novices greatly help them in the discernment process, a simple way of assisting them in discovering their priestly and/or religious vocation in Augustinian way of life.
In one way or another, this simple event greatly helped the novices also in their own journey. By hearing the participants’ life and experiences, their confusions and inquiries, it refreshes their own desire as they share their vocation stories and some experiences in the formation journey and personal encounter with God. Both serve as instruments of each other’s discernment, the others are just newly started in their vocational journey and the others are on the way of deepening, yet they share the same goal, which is God.
Interiority: Journeying Within
On the 27th of November, 2025. The novices have had the privilege of having their monthly recollection to be led by the Prior Provincial, Rev. Fr. Andrew P. Batayola, OSA. With the theme: “Interiority: Journeying Within.”
In preparation for the recollection, the novices gathered in the chapel to reflect in silent meditation on the words recited in hymns and psalms. This was followed by a moment of quiet contemplation—a fitting beginning in harmony with the theme.
The recollection began with a brief pause in silence, dedicating the moment to prayer—not a prayer of words, but of the heart. Afterwards, both the novices and the recollection master shared their personal encounters with God, each recounting outward experiences and interpreting them as distinct encounters with Him. In reflecting on these experiences, Fr. Andrew pointed out that St. Augustine once undertook a similar journey: he initially sought answers in external things but eventually came to understand outward signs as expressions of the inner self. This reflection emphasized the importance of the Augustinian value of interiority as a path toward encountering God.
St. Augustine is regarded as the founder of the Western tradition of interiority, for through his profound understanding of the interior man emerged the common search for God, who is the truth dwelling within.
After the Storm
The storm had passed, leaving behind a heavy stillness. Everything seemed suspended in the silence of heaven and earth. No electricity, no internet, only the faint glow of a wax candle flickering in the darkened room. We sat close together, praying, as if holding on to a fragile thread that connected us to a distant realm of peace. Outside, the wind still howled, and the rain kept striking the tin roof like the knocking of fate.
When dawn broke, the scene unfolded like a freshly torn wound. Roofs were shredded, walls collapsed, tiles shattered, trees broken. People moved quietly among the ruins, tidying up the remnants of their former lives. Children still laughed, splashing in muddy puddles, as though their joy knew nothing of the sorrow that weighed on the grown-ups. In that contrast, I saw more clearly the fragile boundary of human existence: on one side innocence, on the other hardship, both drifting along the uncertain current of life.
I recalled the words from Scripture: “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they come to an end without hope” (Job 7:6). Humanity, with all its worries and dreams, is but a speck of dust in the great wind of creation. The storm is an image, a reminder of our limitation. Before nature, we have nowhere to hide but within faith, nothing to cling to but the awareness that in our weakness, we come closest to the meaning of existence.
The floodwaters swept away what we thought was secure: our possessions, our plans, our dreams. Yet those same waters also washed away the illusion of our own strength. Confronted with devastation, I felt another kind of peace—the peace of one who knows his smallness yet is still alive, still able to believe, still able to love.
Then I understood that what remains after the storm is not loss, but the humble light of life itself, the light that teaches us to bow our heads, to give thanks, to live fully in each fleeting breath. In the dim sunlight after the rain, I saw neighbors begin to rebuild their roofs. Bent sheets of metal were straightened, broken tiles replaced with new bricks. Everything moved slowly, yet within each gesture flowed a quiet vitality. Amid the ruins, humanity was relearning the lesson of beginning anew: that to live is not merely to hold on, but to rise again from what has fallen apart.
Perhaps every storm in life carries that same meaning. It comes not only to destroy, but to awaken us from the long sleep of false security. When all that we cling to is swept away, only then do we truly stand naked before God, and in that nakedness, we rediscover our dignity. For without limitation, we would never know the infinite; without suffering, we would never recognize grace. The storm passes, but its echo remains in the soul like a quiet lesson that all things shall pass, and only love endures.
That evening, I lit the old wax candle once more. Its flame trembled against the damp wall, fragile yet steadfast. Outside, the wind had quieted, but within me, something still moved: a silent gratitude for life itself. I realized that faith is not the absence of storms, but the light that endures through them; not the certainty of tomorrow, but the strength to stand today, to breathe, to hope, to love.
And in that stillness, I seemed to hear the whisper of the Creator:
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.” (Isaiah 43:2)
- Nov. Francis Xavier Viet Vu