The Muslim

Forty years ago, in 1962, on the high altar of Pinaglabanan Church, I was the priest at the wedding of Muhammad Saleh Kismadi and Gloria Castro. Kismadi was a Muslim. Gloria was Catholic. The marriage was performed with a dispensation for Disparity of Cult.

I had known Gloria for ten years. She was acting for me in the Summer Workshop of the Ateneo School, located at that time on Padre Faura. She played the wife of Tony Mercado, and the mother of Bobby Paterno, in the Broadway play: "You Can’t Take It With You." Kismadi I met only when they were arranging for the wedding.

The father of Gloria, who was a strong character, with deep convictions, had no use for Kismadi. He disapproved of the wedding. At the wedding breakfast, he was scowling. He said to Kismadi, loud and clear: "When you get tired of her ……Please!…..Bring her back to us!"

Kismadi was very courteous, very gentle. He said: "Sir, I do not think that I will ever grow tired of Gloria." And so Kismadi and Gloria went to live in Indonesia, in Jakarta.

Kismadi’s field was environment. For the last ten years he has been the National Director for the Environment Development of Indonesia. His concept of environment was not only trees, and land, the air, and the sea. He felt that environment meant the condition of the people! His view of the evils of the environment in Indonesia was; poverty, conflict, hatred, violence. He felt that his job as Director of Environment was to bring peace on earth to men of good will.

He said all the Muslim prayers, kneeling, facing Mecca. But he was also deeply touched by Buddhism. He loved life, and all living things. Gloria said of him: "He was constitutionally incapable of killing a fly!" And he went to the Catholic Mass, with Gloria. He listened to the homilies with more attention than the Catholics. He wrote a brief poem:

Thou…….
Thou art…….and we are,
And time stands still.

They had no children. So they adopted a little girl. She was baptized Maria Cecilia, but she was so round, so chubby, so peaceful, that they called her "Buddhita". Little Buddha. Budsi, for short. She and Kis were kindred souls. They liked each other, loved each other, and talked to each other as much as they could.

Kismadi was reaching out to God. He wrote a poem, on this search.

Ravana addressing Rama
(A Sufi Interpretation)

I have yearned for You since I was first created
and I was part human, bound by time.
But I was also part of your immortal soul
that transcends time or time itself.
Those different parts of my being yearn for one
another as I yearn for You
and I should not be afraid to proclaim
that I am in you as You are in me.
But such proclamations, such acts of submission,
and professions of love and dedication
have not brought me closer to You
Who are ever so distant and remote……
And so difficult to comprehend
because I am part of You
as a grain of sand is part of a beach.
To call Your attention to me
I took a form only you would recognize.
And as I did so, I defied my own humanity,
my own immortality,
And thus I defied You and I challenged You
to do battle with me
in a field of my choosing…..
Earth……which is my territory.
You took up my dare and now, my Lord,
allow me to come to You.

In the culture of Islam, Ravana is evil, and Rama is good. But Gloria knows – she knows – that Kismadi was thinking of Ravana as himself, and Rama as God. He wrote this poem in Indonesian, in Jakarata this year.

Recently, he was called to Mexico for a meeting on environment. He was suffering from emphysema, and knew that high places were dangerous for him, but he felt that the meeting was very important. So he went. High in the mountains of Mexico. At 1:15 in the morning Gloria received the phone call: Kis had collapsed, during the meeting, and was in the ICU, unconscious. For the next hour she prayed. Rosary after rosary. At 2:15 she began to talk directly to Kismadi. She said:

"Kis, if God is calling you, and it is

time to go home to Him, do not fight
it, Kis. Go, in peace. Do not worry
about us – Budsi and me. We can
take care of ourselves. God will take
care of us. Peace, Kis! Go to Him,
peacefully."

At 2:30 a.m. she received the second phone call. Kismadi had gone home to God. Gloria, in spite of her prayer, and Budsi were shattered by his death. Both have been crying, ever since. But they received some consolation from the beautiful things people said about him.

One friend said: "Somehow, Kis was living in an area a little above the reach of any organized religion. He had such a deep, personal intimacy with God!"

We are having trouble in the South, in Mindanao. Internationally, the Philippines has been branded as terrorist territory. And sometimes, when media describes this conflict, the implication is that we are engaged in a religious war.

It is not a religious war. We are dealing with a small group of men who are hungry for money, and who have a fierce lust of power. These men make the headlines. They get prime time on TV. They make the loudest noise on the transistor radio.

But the ordinary Muslim is a quiet soul, praying three times a day toward Mecca, but praying to the same God as we do. And trying, with all his heart, to bring peace on earth to men of good will, like Muhammad Saleh Kismadi.