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Father Randito Tina Recalde has been seeking his life’s vocation since his teenage years. Raised in a devout family and influenced by his experiences in the parish, he decided to undertake missionary work around the world. Here, he shares his vocation and pastoral experience.

Two great missionaries, St. Paul and St. Daniel Comboni, have been inspiring me for quite a long time. I was born in the city of Calamba, Laguna, Philippines. I am the youngest of nine siblings (five girls and four boys). I was blessed to be born into a fairly religious family that helped cultivate my missionary vocation.

My mother was a member of the Apostleship of Prayer and the Legion of Mary. All of my siblings had attended the catechism programme of the parish, and some of them became volunteer catechists. I enjoyed catechism and going to the Oratory, and the Salesian priests and brothers administered the parish pastorally.

When I was a young man, I was actively participating in the parish as a volunteer catechist and animator of altar servers. The joy and satisfaction I found in serving as a catechist and as an animator and in participating in various religious activities helped in the birth of my missionary vocation, although at that time, it was not yet clearly articulated.

Little by little, the vocation in me was taking shape. I felt restless and unsatisfied with the service I was performing in the parish. I wanted it to be more constant and permanent. Not just during the weekends. I felt happier when I was in the parish than in the university. In one of the prayer encounters we had in the parish; I had the inspiration to dedicate my life to the service of the Church.

Immediately, I applied to the nearest and the only known seminary to me, the Salesians of Don Bosco. Sadly, I was not accepted. Only lately would I realize that God had another plan for me. I re-enrolled in college and pursued a Bachelor’s in Secondary Education degree. In the last year of college, the desire to dedicate my life to the service of the Lord was rekindled.

In the library of the College Institute, I discovered a Comboni Missionary magazine ‘World Mission’. I was amazed by the experiences of the Comboni Missionaries working in different parts of the world, but most especially in the continent of Africa. At the same time, a Spanish Comboni Missionary arrived in our parish to have his Tagalog language exposure. We became friends, and I also started inquiring about the Congregation.

After a year of vocation discernment and finishing college, I decided to enter the seminary of the Comboni Missionaries. It took me some years to prepare as a missionary. Aside from the formal study of philosophy and theology, we received inputs on our personalities’ cultural, psych, emotional, and spiritual aspects.

These exposures were privileged, formative opportunities. I had exposure to the Aeta community in Porac, Pampanga; a job in the form of a janitorial position at Capitol Medical Centre; pastoral experience in Victoria Laguna and an orphanage in Mabitac, Laguna; and prison ministry experience in Bilibid in Muntinlupa and Pietermaritzburg Jail in the Kwasikujana slum in South Africa.

These experiences helped in purifying my intentions and clarifying my vocation. They taught me how to go beyond myself. I was ordained a priest on the 26th of January 2008 in Mary Help of Christians Parish, Mayapa, Calamba, Laguna, after which I worked as a vocation promoter in the Philippines. After three years, I received my first missionary assignment to Peru.

I arrived in this Latin American country in 2011 and remained there until 2021. I studied Spanish for a year and was then sent as an assistant priest to St. Martin de Porres, Pangoa, a parish in the Selva Central of Peru. Then, a year later, I became the parish priest.

The people of Pangoa are generally migrant farmers originating from the Andes mountains, where Catholic practices are strongest on fiesta days. Pangoa is a very big parish with more than 300 villages, about 175 of which are indigenous Ashaninkas and Nomatsigengas.

We used to navigate the Ene River for about 12 hours to reach the furthest community. I was still in Peru during the coronavirus pandemic. It is here that I realised that a missionary must strive “to become all things, to all people.”

After the initial shock of the pandemic, I had to overcome fear and find ways to continue to enrich the parishioners spiritually despite the restrictions, to help those who have nothing to eat and those who are suffering because of the disease.

I looked around and started finding solutions from the Philippines and everywhere: live streaming of the Mass and other celebrations, motorcades instead of processions, and community pantries. The parish, with the civil society, was able to build its oxygen generator. In 2021, I was reassigned to the Philippines to open the first pastoral commitment of the Comboni Missionaries in the country, the St. Daniel Comboni Parish in Duale, Limay, Bataan.

Hacerse presente en el mundo de la drogadicción no siempre es fácil pero anoche viví con ellos una experiencia interesante.

Franco Nascimbene

Era el atardecer cuando llegué al lugar donde normalmente se congregan. Estaban ahí cinco jóvenes entre los 20 y los 30 años: dos eran varones y tres mujeres.

Cuando entendieron que deseaba pasar un rato con ellos, uno de los jóvenes se levantó y me ofreció su asiento, cosa que acepté con mucho gusto porque se me hace siempre más difícil quedarme de pie por tiempos prolongados. Mientras, ellos seguían drogándose

Después de un rato que estaba sentado comencé a conversar con Camila que estaba sentada a mi derecha. Camila era una mujer de unos treinta años que había tenido 5 hijos de hombres distintos. Los había entregado a sus papás y ella vivía en la casa de un amigo y de vez en cuando trabajaba: había conseguido hacerse inscribir en la lista de personas disponibles a pasar la noche atendiendo enfermos en un hospital de la zona y de vez en cuando la llamaban a atender a un enfermo. No era un trabajo fijo pero la pagaban bien.

A mi izquierda estaba sentado un joven de unos 25 años que yo no conocía. Me presenté y comenzamos a conversar. Me contó que acababa de salir de la cárcel donde había estado varios años. Le pregunté como le iba, si había encontrado un trabajo. Me contestó que estaba bastante preocupado porque había tenido un accidente que le había afectado el índice derecho.

Bueno, le dije, siempre se podrá conseguir un trabajo en le cual el índice derecho no sea tan indispensable. No, me contestó, porque yo trabajo disparando. No investigué mas pero entendí que en la cárcel había estado por trabajar de sicario y ahora le habría costado mucho volver a ese trabajo. Me vino a la mente ese joven sicario que hace unos dos meses disparó a un candidato presidencial...

Mas allá estaba un hombre de unos 30 años que vivía con otra de las muchachas ahí presentes que, a sus veinte años, ya tenía un hijo de 6 años que no era de él.

El señor acababa de volver de su trabajo con un gran triciclo de pedales que ofrece a quienes necesitan transportar cosas.

El día le había ido bien y había llegado con su platita en el bolsillo. Fue a comprar 6 helados de maní que una vecina hacía muy sabrosos y nos dio un helado a cada uno de los presentes.

Los comimos todos con mucho gusto.

Cuando volví a la casa me puse a analizar lo que había vivido durante esa hora con ellos.

Me preguntaba si había hecho algo bueno para ellos. Tal vez lo único fue sentarse con ellos, escuchándolos sin juzgarlos, compartiendo sus penas y alegrías.

Reflexionaba sobre el helado compartido: me preguntaba si no había sido el OCTAVO SACRAMENTO, el sacramento de los excluidos que comparten, y me alegraba mucho de haber sido invitado a participar como un hermano más: Papa Francisco lo habría llamado un "REDESCUBRIR EL GUSTO ESPIRITUAL DE SER PUEBLO"

¿Qué nacerá más adelante de una experiencia de fraternidad compartida?

Estar presente no mundo da dependência química nem sempre é fácil, mas ontem à noite vivi com eles uma experiência interessante.

P. Franco Nascinbene

Era o pôr do sol quando cheguei ao local onde eles costumam se reunir. Havia cinco jovens entre 20 e 30 anos: dois homens e três mulheres.

Quando entenderam que eu queria passar um tempo com eles, um dos jovens se levantou e me ofereceu seu lugar, o que aceitei com muito prazer, pois cada vez me é mais difícil ficar em pé por muito tempo. Enquanto isso, eles continuavam se drogando.

Depois de um tempo sentado, comecei a conversar com Camila, que estava sentada à minha direita. Camila era uma mulher de cerca de trinta anos que tinha cinco filhos de homens diferentes. Ela os entregou aos pais deles e morava na casa de um amigo, trabalhando ocasionalmente: conseguiu se inscrever na lista de pessoas disponíveis para passar a noite cuidando de doentes em um hospital da região e, de vez em quando, era chamada para atender um paciente. Não era um trabalho fixo, mas pagavam bem.

À minha esquerda estava sentado um jovem de cerca de 25 anos que eu não conhecia. Apresentei-me e começamos a conversar. Ele contou-me que tinha acabado de sair da prisão, onde tinha passado vários anos. Perguntei-lhe como estava, se tinha encontrado um emprego. Ele respondeu que estava bastante preocupado porque tinha sofrido um acidente que lhe tinha afetado o dedo indicador direito.

Bem, eu disse a ele, sempre será possível conseguir um emprego em que o dedo indicador não seja tão indispensável. Não, ele respondeu, porque eu trabalho atirando. Não investiguei mais, mas entendi que ele tinha estado na prisão por trabalhar como assassino de aluguel e agora teria muita dificuldade em voltar a esse trabalho. Lembrei-me daquele jovem assassino que, há cerca de dois meses, atirou em um candidato à presidência...

Mais adiante estava um homem de cerca de 30 anos que morava com outra das garotas presentes que, aos 20 anos, já tinha um filho de 6 anos que não era dele.

O senhor tinha acabado de voltar do trabalho com um grande triciclo a pedal que oferece para quem precisa transportar coisas.

O dia tinha sido bom e ele chegou com seu dinheirinho no bolso. Ele foi comprar seis sorvetes de amendoim que uma vizinha fazia muito saborosos e deu um sorvete para cada um dos presentes.

Comemos tudo com muito gosto.

Quando voltei para casa, comecei a analisar o que havia vivido durante aquela hora com eles.

Perguntei-me se tinha feito algo de bom por eles. Talvez a única coisa tenha sido sentar-me com eles, ouvi-los sem julgá-los, compartilhar suas tristezas e alegrias.

Refleti sobre o sorvete compartilhado: me perguntei se não tinha sido o OITAVO SACRAMENTO, o sacramento dos excluídos que compartilham, e fiquei muito feliz por ter sido convidado a participar como mais um irmão: o Papa Francisco teria chamado isso de “REDESCOBRIR O GOSTO ESPIRITUAL DE SER POVO”.

O que nascerá mais adiante de uma experiência de fraternidade compartilhada?

Being present in the world of drug addiction is not always easy, but last night I had an interesting experience with them.

Fr. Franco Nascimbene

It was dusk when I arrived at the place where they usually gather. There were five young people between the ages of 20 and 30: two men and three women.

When they understood that I wanted to spend some time with them, one of the young men got up and offered me his seat, which I gladly accepted because it is always more difficult for me to stand for long periods of time. Meanwhile, they continued to take drugs.

After sitting for a while, I began to talk to Camila, who was sitting to my right. Camila was a woman in her thirties who had had five children by different men. She had given them to their fathers and was living in a friend's house. She worked from time to time: she had managed to get herself on the list of people available to spend the night caring for patients in a local hospital, and from time to time they would call her to attend to a patient. It wasn't a steady job, but it paid well.

To my left sat a young man of about 25 whom I did not know. I introduced myself and we began to talk. He told me that he had just been released from prison, where he had spent several years. I asked him how he was doing, if he had found a job. He replied that he was quite worried because he had had an accident that had affected his right index finger.

Well, I said, you can always find a job where your right index finger isn't so essential. No, he replied, because I work as a gunman. I didn't probe further, but I understood that he had been in prison for working as a hitman and now it would be very difficult for him to return to that job. I was reminded of the young hitman who shot a presidential candidate about two months ago...

Further away was a man in his thirties who lived with another of the girls there who, at twenty, already had a six-year-old son who was not his.

The man had just returned from work with a large pedal tricycle that he offers to those who need to transport things.

He had had a good day and arrived with some money in his pocket. He went to buy six peanut ice creams that a neighbor made, which were very tasty, and gave one to each of us who were there.

We all ate them with great pleasure.

When I got home, I began to analyze what I had experienced during that hour with them.

I wondered if I had done anything good for them. Perhaps the only thing was to sit with them, listening to them without judging them, sharing their sorrows and joys.

I reflected on the shared ice cream: I wondered if it had not been the EIGHTH SACRAMENT, the sacrament of the excluded who share, and I was very happy to have been invited to participate as one more brother: Pope Francis would have called it a “REDISCOVERING THE SPIRITUAL TASTE OF BEING A PEOPLE.”

What will come later from an experience of shared fraternity?