Editors’ Note: Fr. Roque Angel Jamias Ferriols, SJ (b. August 16, 1924 – d. August 15, 2021), fondly known as “Padre Roque,” was a legendary Filipino Jesuit priest and philosopher known for pioneering the teaching and doing of philosophy in the Filipino language. He spearheaded a crucial shift away from traditional Western-centric frameworks, introducing existentialist phenomenology to the Philippines to help ordinary folk think critically within their own lived realities.
Starting in 1969 at the Ateneo de Manila University, he broke the convention of teaching exclusively in English. He argued that the search for truth is best achieved when using one’s native tongue. He instilled the absolute necessity of deep reflection (pagmumuni-muni). He was famous for demanding that students reject lazy thinking (tamad na pag-iisip). He translated ancient Greek classics and advanced metaphysical texts into Filipino. His award-winning books include Mga Sinaunang Griyego, Magpakatao, Pambungad sa Metapisika, and Pilosopiya ng Relihiyon.
AImost everyone has had a favorite teacher in school. If you went to a liberal arts school like the Ateneo de Manila, chances are Fr. Roque Ferriols, SJ, would be high on that list, he of the “mysterium tremendum.” Actually, it’s difficult to forget my first day of Philosophy class under him- he screamed at me! Yet, I was not shaken by that initial session, and neither did I get traumatized by it. I just went back to class the next day as if nothing happened. Looking back, it was really much ado over nothing.
This was, after all, the famous Fr. Ferriols, reputedly the second-most brilliant Filipino Jesuit, next only to the illustrious Fr. Horacio de la Costa, SJ. But I’m sure he thought nothing of this kind of “ranking” because he shunned the limelight and preferred teaching college students Philosophy.
Fr. Ferriols was undoubtedly not just intelligent, he was really brilliant. His lessons were clear, his language
precise. During the university’s “nationalization” phase, he elected to teach classes in Pilipino, even if he was Ilocano. Thus, when exam time came, I would never be found reviewing my lecture notes but frantically poring over my English-Tagalog dictionary. If there’s one thing Fr. Ferriols couldn’t stand (besides stupidity), it was people talking/writing in Taglish. If you don’t believe me, just try it … in class.
Another one of his pet peeves was people looking down on him, or making certain assumptions, just because he was Filipino. There was this particular time when he was pursuing his graduate studies in the U.S. east coast. He told us that he was minding his own business on the bus, reading one of his all- time favorites, the bard William Shakespeare. Seeing him, an American (Caucasian) casually remarked, “Oh, I see you like Shakespeare.” That set him off instantly, “I know more of Shakespeare in my little finger than you do in your entire body!” he snapped at the poor soul.
But Fr. Ferriols had a light, and even naughty side. One day, he told us, “Tomorrow will be a special day for you guys. I’m going to talk about SEX!” Our ears instantly perked up upon hearing his words, half in disbelief, I must admit. Then he started chuckling, “But my lecture tomorrow will be very SQUARE”, and with that, his two index fingers went up in the air as he started drawing an imaginary figure of a square framing his face. He continued, “You know, I once had this conversation with an alumnus about sex. And every time I said something, he’d respond, ‘But Father, it’s relative.’ Then later on, he’d say, ‘But Father, it’s really relative!’ This went on for several minutes until I suggested, ‘Supposing your wife … and at which time this alum shouted, ‘Father, you please leave my wife out of this!”” (So much for situational ethics!) Thus, before classes had even started the following day, Fr. Ferriols had already made his point. He was that kind of a teacher.
Besides the aforementioned Shakespeare, one of his other idols was the martial artist, Bruce Lee. This really shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, as this was, after all, the mid-’70s, when Bruce Lee’s movies were shown one after the other. The Big Boss. Fist of Fury. The Way of the Dragon (with six-time undefeated World Middleweight Karate champion, Chuck Norris), all displaying kung fu (Chinese martial arts) as never seen before. Fight scenes were realistic, and Bruce was just a whirlwind of action. Interviews on YouTube now with martial arts experts who had worked with Bruce Lee before reveal how lightning-fast Bruce really was.
He was so fast, he had to slow down his movements for the camera. Lee was also famous for his one-inch punch demonstrations, his two-finger push-ups (two ways: one hand, using two fingers; and two hands, using one finger each). Other interviews followed, with actual black-and-white footage of home videos made showing Bruce Lee kicking a 700-lb. bag and sending it flying. No wonder Fr. Ferriols was a fan!
One day after class, I shared with him something I’d read about Bruce the night before. “Father, I have some news about your idol that will make you very happy.”
“Yes, what’s that?” he shot back.
“Guess what his college major in Washington was? Philosophy!”
Upon hearing that, Fr. Ferriols’ scowl disappeared, and his face broke into a smile. When we parted ways, I could swear I noticed that he walked with an extra spring in his step. Just like Bruce.
Many years after graduation, our paths met again in the most unexpected manner. An underclassman, Mike Lambino, had gotten in touch with me about somehow improving the old Jesuit Infirmary (before the new one was donated by Ramon S. Ang). So, one day, I turned left where the Manila Observatory stood, passed the old college covered courts, turned left, and parked my car. Mike greeted me warmly and showed me the Infirmary’s receiving area. It looked dark and drab, and in need of a makeover. Not only did the place give you the creeps, but you also felt like hightailing it out of there as fast as you could.
Since we had some leftover furniture from a couple of condo units we rented out fully furnished to expat businessmen, I told him I’d donate a sofa, matching side armchairs, a coffee table, a couple of side tables, and a pair of really rare and nice-looking three-foot tall lamps (which of course, I purchased from my thrift shop sukis in Bangkal). When the stuff had been hauled over, Mike thanked me and asked me back a month later to see how these had improved the looks of the place.
He had done a good job, reupholstering the old furniture with bright-colored fabrics. The lamps looked really nice with new light bulbs installed. When lit, the atmosphere became welcoming and inviting, even romantic (if you had a fertile enough imagination). It had made all the difference. Instead of wanting to flee the place, you felt like staying as long as possible. Before leaving, I congratulated him, saying, “You did a really excellent job, Mike, converting our old, tired- looking furniture into this! Good work!”
As I turned to make my way to my car, Mike stopped me. “Wait a minute, Robin! Weren’t you also under Fr. Ferriols back in school?”
“Yes, for two semesters!” I said with pride.
“Well, you know, his room isn’t far from here. In fact, it’s just around the corner. It really is. As soon as you enter, it’ll be the first door to your right. Why don’t you come in briefly to say hello?”
“Come on, Mike, how could he possibly remember me? I mean, he must possibly have had thousands of students for Philo classes. There’s just no way,” my voice trailed off.
But Mike was persistent. “You’re already here! What’s the rush? Where’s the harm?” So, Mike won me over. We entered the doorway, where I saw Fr. Ferriols propped up in bed, his eyes glued to the TV set while his caregiver sat quietly beside him. Neither of them looked in our direction when we entered. Fr. Ferriols sat stoically in bed, as if he were catatonic, eyes gazing at the TV set, but it seemed his thoughts were far away.
Taking on a tone as if an adult were addressing a little child, Mike said in a kind of musical tone, “Father, I have a surprise visitor for you! He’s one of your former students, Robin Tong.”
We don’t know if Fr. Ferriols heard us, because he didn’t budge, didn’t take his eyes off the TV set, didn’t even turn his head towards the direction of Mike’s voice. But he just replied in one sentence, “Are you still watching those kung fu movies?”
Judas Priest! I don’t remember what else transpired after that, except that I had this overpowering urge to fly out of the room. I told Mike, “I’m coming back later with my collection of Jet Li movies on DVD. Just wait!”
I rushed home, scooped up my entire DVD collection and returned to the Jesuit Infirmary. “Here,” I told Mike. “These are for Fr. Ferriols. Make sure he gets them. Tell him it’s not Bruce Lee, it’s Jet Li. I just want to introduce him to another great martial artist!”
The next time I visited Fr. Ferriols was several years later, when the new Jesuit Wellness Center had already been constructed and the elderly priests were transferred there. I went to see Fr. Ferriols on his birthday, bringing a tub of ice cream. Unfortunately, he was not in so we didn’t get to meet. But I left the ice cream with the attendant, who asked me who it was from so that he could relay the message to Fr. Ferriols.
“Just tell him Bruce Lee dropped by to say hello.”
This article was first published in Companions / The Windhover (phjesuits.org), April 2023. (Photo by Larry Go)
About the author:
ROBIN TONG describes himself as a well-mannered gentleman, whipped into submission at an early age by a loving mother. He is a senior executive at a manufacturing company servicing the construction industry with their high quality steel products for the past six decades.