Martha Merritt, Director of Strategic and International Development, was in the Philippines in November 2003 to develop field placements for students in the master’s program. She spoke with the Reverend Roberto Layson, OMI, during a session of the Grassroots Peace Learning Center at the Mindanao Training Resource Center.

Roberto Layson is a small man, even by Filipino standards, with a still center. His smiles are treasures, much sought after by the many who love “Father Bert.” His message of reconciliation between the government and the rebels is simple, but as he speaks of those driven from their homes by combat he begins to radiate the quiet strength that has made him a rare and respected intermediary.

“At least the guns are silent now,” he says.

This has not been the case often enough in Father Bert’s career of working with Muslim, indigenous, and Christian communities on the large island of Mindanao, with a population of 18 million and a long history of autonomy. After nine years of hard work and cooperation in the island of Jolo with the legendary peacemaker Bishop Benjamin de Jesus, the bishop was assassinated, reportedly by Moro (Muslim) bandits. “It was a hard time for me, and I was in danger of becoming bitter,” Father Bert says. “I wanted to go back to Christian community.” He did, but it was not long before the tight weave of politics, the military, and the people in the marshes drew back the man who could move among them. “I did not want to do it, but then I thought about my bishop and his work.”

He first reached out to the Muslim and indigenous communities in 1997, when he was newly assigned to the Province of Cotabato and took the unusual step of befriending the people who live along the fringes of the Liguasan marshes. His conditions were that, first, the Muslims be open to government projects and second that the MILF (Moro Islamic Liberation Front) rebels protect him? another priest had been killed in the neighboring province by bandits a month before. With pledges but no guarantees, he embarked in 1997 on a long mission of peace.

Why has he been accepted by both the rebels and two presidential administrations? “I respect them. I always see the basic goodness in every one of them. That is why they trust me.” But earning that trust comes at personal cost. Father Bert’s pain is evident as he talks and writes about what he sees as unnecessary conflict between the government and rebels that harms civilians. In his book, In War, the Real Enemy is War Itself, he chronicles the tremendous costs for refugees, especially children, who are forced to leave their homes and then are unable to return to safety. Peace negotiations seemed to be going well in 2003, after several waves of civilian exodus in previous conflicts, but then the government attacked, triggering more refugee movement. “A bomb created a crater in a cemetery. The dead there were killed twice.” The waste is not limited to those who experience combat directly, nor can Christians afford to ignore the well-being of the less fortunate: “The lives and deaths of these people are intertwined with ours.”

When did he decide to become a priest? “Ten years after my ordination,” he says with a burst of merriment. Why did he decide to become a priest? His grave demeanor returns at that question. “I grew up in the barrio. I like to work quietly.”

All of the attention to his peacebuilding is not what he would choose. He says that the sequence for healing in Mindanao must be truth, repentance, and justice, with the latter two premature if not preceded by truth. “People must know what happened,” he says simply.

He is troubled that indigenous peoples who talk to him do not record their sacred stories, and he fears their history is being lost. Father Bert draws strength from the memory of an elderly woman who pleaded with him, “Please don't forget our stories. Please tell our stories.” He does, with respect and acute awareness of the delicacy and strength required to facilitate peace and to establish safe havens in war-torn communities. With a haunted look, Father Bert concludes: “The worst thing is not the work itself, though that is hard. The worst is looking up and sometimes finding that I work alone.”

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