The true light of compassion
In 2015, Fr. Luciano Felloni, an Argentinian priest assigned to the Philippines since 2000, sat in a television interview.
He spoke Filipino like a native. He had already set up a community-based drug rehabilitation program. His little counseling group was so successful that some members were later removed from the police watch list.
Years after the interview, when the war on drugs reached violent heights, he continued his work, unflagging, unafraid. He continued to counsel drug users. He cared even for the widows and orphans of the victims of extrajudicial killings.
In 2015, Father Felloni was asked how long he planned to stay.
He answered: I love the Philippines. I will stay here until I die.
On Sunday, Feb. 2, 2025, he made good on his promise. In a hospital bed in Metro Manila, after a brief battle with cancer, Father Felloni breathed his last.
Father Felloni was a warrior until the end. He had been fighting for years as a parish priest, as a vlogger who preached even while going through chemotherapy, as someone who believed in the goodness of every person.
Once, when then President Rodrigo Duterte lambasted the clergy for criticizing his administration without addressing the spread of drugs, Father Felloni responded with a Facebook comment: There was a program in his parish, he said, and even the Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) had asked for help to duplicate it in other places.
He ended his comment with: “And I preach both STOP USING DRUGS as well as STOP KILLING PEOPLE.”
His work was an inspiration to keep speaking up against any government attempt to impose power without first understanding the struggles of its poorest, its weakest constituents.
I brought up Father Felloni’s death with a close friend and Jesuit, Fr. Munching de Guzman. Father Munch suggested that I talk about Father Felloni’s preaching. All public servants must serve well, as their way of preaching and teaching future leaders, he said; all people must vote well, as their way of preaching and teaching young voters.
Father Munch’s words struck me, especially since I had just finished checking papers for my Issues in Science Communication class.
I had asked my class to read two journal articles that documented interviews with students in different countries on how they had been taught science. My students had to write an in-class essay on which interview quote resonated the most with them, along with an example from their experience.
My students told their stories: of memorizing lists of facts with no tools to understand how the facts worked in systems and context; of taking notes with no time to discuss anything, so that they had notebooks full of notes and heads empty of understanding; of feeling that science was just about passing exams.
In all the papers arose the influence of a teacher’s example.
The students received the most inspiration from teachers who asked them about their experiences first and then cast the world in a new light by bringing science to bear on students’ lives. They loved the teachers who challenged their views and allowed science to be debated and discussed. In some cases, a teacher’s passion restored their childhood curiosity and love for science.
The need for humans to first be understood as innately good and loving is universal. The influence of a passionate, compassionate mentor cannot be underestimated.
The one that lectures, ridicules, and, in the case of the drug war, turns people against each other? That kind of person divides, foments evil, and should not even have been voted into office in the first place.
For indeed, and as Father Munch said, it is not our words that teach, but our examples that preach. A passionate teacher inspires future professionals. A compassionate public servant inspires future leaders. Every vote is a sermon to the voters of tomorrow.
Our example is our message.
Father Felloni went home on Feb. 2, the Feast of the Presentation at the Temple. This feast is also known as Candlemas because of the lighted candles that represent the day’s Gospel.
As Simeon holds the baby Jesus in his arms, he announces: “Now, Master, you are letting your servant go in peace as You promised; for my eyes have seen the salvation which you have made ready in the sight of the nations; a light of revelation for the Gentiles and glory for your people Israel.”
It is this light that we carry in commemoration, every Feb. 2; and perhaps it was that light that Father Felloni saw, on Sunday, when he had been deemed ready for his journey back to his Creator.
It reflected the light that he carried in his own heart as he strove to be the way home for many who had lost their paths.
We, too, as teachers, public servants, and voters, carry that light. For we are all mentors and all with a capacity to be a light of revelation. May we use that light for compassion and understanding, for fighting for those who have not yet found their voice.
May we never be a force of division, of depravity, or of despair in this already dark and cruel world.
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iponcedeleon@ateneo.edu
