Here is a tribute to Father Jose Nacu, MS, the first Filipino to be ordained a LaSalette Missionary priest. He died on November 24, 2008. He was a hard driving champion for the institution of LaSalette Lay Associates. His zeal went unrequirted during his earthly life. He will have more clout raining down help from his new found position at the right hand of his beloved Weeping Mother. Here is the beautiful eulogy written by his niece.

From: ranzybn To: Ranzy Sent: Sunday, November 30, 2008 1:22 AM

Subject: Eulogy for Rev Fr Jose R Nacu, M.S.

To relatives and friends,As many of you know, my uncle, Jonax had been battling with cancer since 1985. He joined his Creator last November 24th, 2008. Here is a copy of the eulogy that I wrote for him. Please do say a prayer for him.Thank you.Zazu or Ranzy to many of you out there Eulogy for Reverend Jose R Nacu, M.S.By Zazu, the niece(read by my sister Yolanda Nacu-Lat at the funeral mass, in Silang, Cavite on December 1st, 2008)

To each and everyone, Rev Father Tante, the provincial head of La Salette, to all the priests and brothers of La Salette, and friends, all present here today, I, Zazu, the niece of Rev Father Jose R. Nacu or Jonax (as he is fondly called), together with his sisters, Pilar Brandewie, Teresita Mencias, Lourdes Castillo and brother Ramon Nacu, brother-in-law Ernest Brandewie, and sister-in-law Lourdes Nacu, nieces, nephews, grandsons and granddaughters thank you all for being present here today in celebration of Jonax's joining His Creator. To almost all of you gathered here today, you all knew him as Father Jonax, the priest. On the other hand, I am here to tell you about Jonax as the son, the brother, the uncle and the lolo.
To his mother Carmen, she endearingly called him, "ang anak kong pilosopo." At a very young age, he was articulate on reasons why or how things happen in life. To his youngest sister Lourdes, he was Pepito, , the prankster. At age seven, he stuck cottonballs inside the nose of Lourdes for reasons no one knew why he did it. He pasted her treasured stampitas on the wall with rice. It goes without saying that in a matter of time, hungry red ants crawled on the wall to eat both the rice and his sister's precious stampitas. To her sister Pilar, he was the intellectual who could carry a discourse with her husband, Brandy, a doctor of Anthropology for hours on end. To the nieces, nephews, grandsons and granddaughters, he was the source of entertainment and fun, who took us to eat out, or put up events so that the Nacu clan could get together and meet faces of relatives that could have been unknown to most of us had it not been for his effort for us to gather together as family. He was Jonax the chess player, who perennially carried a chess set in the trunk of his car, be it in Hawaii, California or the Philippines always ready to take up a challenge to checkmate his opponent. He was Jonax, the off-key singer, although he loved to sing folk songs by Peter, Paul and Mary or listened to the Beatles or Enya. One of his favorite songs is Memory from Cats, which in a way depicted the way he lead his life, to quote:
"Daylight,I must wait for the sunrise,
I must think of a new life,
And I mustn't give in,
When the dawn comes,
Tonight will be a memory too,
And a new day will begin."

As for me, I knew him as Jonax, the dancer. He danced with a passion as he moved his feet, gyrated his hips, a wide grin on his face.

He danced with or without music,
he danced off-beat,
he danced with his cancer,
he danced with the poor and the meek,
he danced for the oppressed,
he danced to make changes in government and the social system,
he danced in his prison cell,
he danced with the Our Lady of La Salette,
he danced for reconciliation,
he danced with love,
he danced tirelessly in his lifetime.

Today his spirit dances endlessly, effortlessly in our midst. I dare not say good-bye, just keep on dancing Jonax.We all love you.

(Aranzazu B Nacu/30 November 2008/1:07a.m.)

I thank God for giving me the grace of being a close friend to Jonax for many years.

PRIESTHOOD SUNDAY + ALL SOULS DAY

Hello to you all. I have to share this inspiration with you. I was lying in bed and my head and heart choked up with the La Salette Missionary priests who shaped my life the most.
Ever since I was an infant, the La Salette Missionaries have been a part of my life. It is a fact that I have tried to explain to people everywhere I go. So, I will let you know all about it now. Why? Because I know that so many of you who are reading this have similar stories. I know that Our Weeping Mother never stops inviting us to "come closer my children, do not be afraid." I also have to take advantage of the celebration of Priesthood Sunday (Oct. 26) and All Souls Day (Nov. 2). Most of the La Salette Priests who have contributed to making me who I am, spiritually, are deceased. The wonderful man on the left is not only deceased, I believe that he is a saint, still watching over the parish that he founded 100 years ago. His name is Julien-Marie Ginet. He was born in 1872, a short twenty-six years after the apparition at La Salette. That would make him one of the very first missionaries dedicated to Our Holy Mother's Mission, "Go, my children, make this known to all my people." It certainly made him one of the first La Salette Missionaries to set foot on U.S. soil in Harford, Connecticut. He was the founder of the Immaculate Conception parish in Holyoke Massachusetts, 25 miles north of Hartford. There, the missionaries built a marvelous gothic church (no longer standing), a school and a nun's residence.
Now, I have to tell you, I am old, but all of this happened before I was born. He holds gthe pre-emminent place in my heart because during the time of his ministry in Holyoke, he formed a very close friendship with my maternal grandfather. My grandfather had lost his right hand in an industrial accident and struggled for a long time to fight the depression that his loss caused him. My grandfather was a cabinet maker. After the accident, a useless, one handed cabinet maker, or so he thought. Father Ginet ordered, yes ordered, not to say commanded, his friend to report to work to him at the rectory. The rest is history. Grandpa worked for Father Ginet for fifty years. Not only that, they died a few short days apart in October of 1949.
I knew Father Ginet because I attended the school that he had founded. He would visit all the classrooms once per week, every week. So, he knew me and I knew him. Besides, I would see him at my grandfather's home at least once per month or so. To me, he was the same size as Michael the Archangel or some such "action hero." This person was always more than just a mere man to me. He was, and still is, the right hand man of God and a devoted son of Our Weeping Mother of La Salette.