ANUMANG HIRAM
KUNG HINDI MASIKIP
AY MALUWANG
Iba’t-Ibang Anyo ng
Teolohiyang Pumipiglas
Ferdinand Anno
Melanio Aoanan
George Buenaventura
Romeo Del Rosario
Aileen Isidro-Carbonell
Patrick McDivith
Antonio Pacudan
Deborrah Reyes
Afrie Songco-Joye
Lizette Tapia-Raquel
and
Revelation Velunta, Editor
Union Theological Seminary
Dasmarinas 4114 Cavite, Philippines
1
Anumang Hiram, Kung Hindi Masikip ay Maluwang
Iba’t-Ibang Anyo ng Teolohiyang Pumipiglas
Copyright©2006 Union Theological Seminary
[Philippine Christian Center of Learning, Inc.]
All Rights Reserved
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means , electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or
retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by law
or in writing from the publisher. All requests for permission
should be addressed to Union Theological Seminary, Aguinaldo
Highway, Dasmarinas 4114 Cavite, Philippines.
Revelation Velunta, Editor.
Anumang Hiram, Kung Hindi Masikip ay Maluwang:
Iba’t-Ibang Anyo ng Teolohiyang Pumipiglas
Ferdinand Anno, Melanio Aoanan, George Buenaventura, Romeo
Del Rosario, Aileen Isidro Carbonell, Patrick McDivith, Antonio
Pacudan, Deborrah Reyes, Afrie Songco-Joye, Lizette TapiaRaquel, and Revelation Velunta
Artwork:
Jeepney, p.142, by Emmanuel “Wing” Garibay
Tabo, p.106, by Ferdinand Anno
Lola, p.84, by Aileen Isidro Carbonell
Cover Design and Photography by Revelation Velunta
ISBN 971-93530-1-5
2
Contents
Anumang Hiram, Kung Hindi Masikip ay Maluwang
Revelation Velunta
4
The Subversive Pilgrim
and the Liturgical Rhetoric of Struggle
Ferdinand Anno
6
Teolohiya ng Bituka at Pagkain:
Tungo sa Teolohiyang Pumipiglas
Melanio Aoanan
32
God, Community, and Us
George Buenaventura
55
Re-Imagining Jonah
Romeo Del Rosario
67
Ang Saya ni Lola at Saranggola
Aileen Isidro Carbonell
85
Kanlungan: A Filipino Protocol for Pastoral Care
Patrick McDivith
91
Martha’s Discipleship: A Feminist Interpretation Based
Upon Elisabeth Schussler-Fiorenza’s Hermeneutical Model
Antonio Pacudan
95
Teolohiya ng Butas na Tabo
Deborrah Reyes
107
Motivation, Madness, and Ministry
Afrie Songco-Joye
115
Ukay-Ukay Theology: A Proposal
Lizette Tapia-Raquel
127
Jeepney Hermeneutics: Beating Swords into Plougshares
Revelation Velunta
142
Contributors
180
3
ANUMANG HIRAM, KUNG HINDI MASIKIP AY MALUWANG
Iba’t-Ibang Anyo ng Teolohiyang Pumipiglas
INTRODUCTION
Seminaries and divinity schools have, for years, been described as
marketplaces of ideas. Unfortunately, many such institutions have been
marketplaces, or more appropriately, malls of Western ideas. In other
words, if one were to go “shopping” in these “malls” of theological
education, one will be amazed by the number of stalls, stores and shops
offering “imported” goods: from theologies, to liturgies, to libraries, to
models of hermeneutics.
“I cringe at the thought that the more we train our students, the further
they are drawn away form the poetry and the arts, the thought forms and
patterns, the hermeneutics, the sentiments and feelings, and the
imaginative and visioning processes of their own people.”1
Anumang hiram, kung hindi masikip ay maluwang. Anything borrowed is
either too tight or too loose. The saying is true with clothes. It is equally
true with theology. “Panahon na upang iguhit ang sariling palad. Panahon
na upang lilukin ang sariling hugis. Ihabi ang sariling talambuhay.”2 We
need more “shops” that proudly offer the depth and the breadth of diverse
Filipino articulations and constructions of theology.
Anumang hiram, kayang iwasto para ‘sakto. Nevertheless, the Filipino has
the ability to transform anything borrowed to fit him or her perfectly. We
also need more “stores” that showcase the Filipinos’ religious imagination
that empowers them to beat swords into plougshares, to turn weapons of
mass destruction into instruments for mass celebration, and to transform
jeeps into jeepneys.
This anthology is an attempt at doing both.
THE PARABLE OF THE STONE SOUP
A long time ago in a barrio far away came a very old woman. She was
probably just passing by because she took the dusty road that bordered the
small community. Because it was almost dark, she stopped by the roadside
and began to build a fire. She took out an earthen pot from the bag she
lugged around and, after filling it with water, set it over the fire. Out of the
same bag she brought out a small river stone and a pinch of rock salt and
put these in the pot.
4
An old woman alone by the road is hard to miss. Soon children were upon
her. “Lola (Grandma),” they asked, “what are you doing?” “I’m cooking
soup,” she answered, “why don’t you join me?” They sure did and after a
while there was a huge circle of children gathered around the fire as the old
lady narrated stories about elves and fairies and dragons.
It was late. It was dark and the children were still out so their parents
began looking for them. They eventually found them with the old lady.
“Lola,” they asked, “what are you doing?” “I’m cooking soup,” she
answered, “why don’t you join me?” They sure did and after a while there
was a huge circle of children with their parents gathered around the fire as
the old lady continued telling stories of elves and fairies and dragons.
“Lola, “ a mother volunteered, “I still have leftover meat at home. We can
put it in the pot.” “We have vegetables we can add to the pot too!” another
remarked. And so everyone brought back what they could and put these in
the pot. Eventually, the whole community shared not just stories but a hot
pot of soup that began with a cold river stone and a pinch of rock salt.3
As members of a community of about 85 million scattered across 7,107
islands, where scores of languages are spoken, the authors of this collection
don’t have the soup. Nor does Union Theological Seminary. What we have
are ingredients to share and these are ingredients we are always ready to
offer. UTS has been doing so for almost one hundred years.
In a country whose traditions are both pluri-form and multi-vocal, we are
among the many who have faith stories to share. And there are many, many
more whose stories of faith are yet to be shared.
This anthology is an open invitation to start sharing…
Revelation Velunta
International Women’s Day, 8 March 2006
5
THE SUBVERSIVE PILGRIM AND THE
LITURGICAL RHETORIC OF STRUGGLE
By Ferdinand Anno
This essay is a review of several performative and spatial objectifications of
contemporary political dissidence in the Philippines. Specifically, it tries to
connect these political ritualisations to the popular idea of the sacred and
amplify the case of a dissident mass going through a subversive pilgrimage.
Firstly, it re-presents a ritual dimension to the religiosity of struggle and its
dramaturgical reconstruction of the Filipino story. Secondly, it examines how
the rali (the protest rally, still a political enigma to the uninitiated), in the
form of the martsa, relocates the struggle in to the realm of the sacred ­
however the latter is broken down into temporal vistas. And thirdly, how
space, i.e., Mendiola, now Don Chino Roces Avenue, further celebrates the
visions and hopes of a people in rituals of anticipation, hence, grounding
and historicizing of the pagbangon muli-ng-sambayanang-Pilipino (the
‘resurrection-of-the-Filipino people’) phase of a people’s paschal story.
I. THE RALI: A DRAMATURGICAL CASE FOR SUBVERSIVE PILGRIMAGE
The pakikibaka life-rite, a religio-political appropriation of the ritual process
(Van Gennep, 1960, Turner, 1969), is a life course basic to the experience of
the more ‘this-worldy’ - the ‘radical and Evangelical’ (Mendoza, 1999) of
Filipino Christians. ‘Separation’, ‘marginalisation’ and ‘reaggregation’/
’homecoming’ (Van Gennep, 1960) are anthropological tools that can help
describe the Christian life as constituted in and around the Gospels and
tradition. The life-rite moreover puts forward the Christian as, movementwise, a pilgrim, always seeking for that new reality in a radically new word.
Bound to the writ and values of the Christian community, the faithful senses
the responsibility to subvert anything that negates these values, thus, the
idea of the pilgrim as subversive. Ironically, this life-rite manifests itself not
in congregations, communes and fellowships Christians organized for
themselves - but outside them, in a pagan world where life and death are in
perpetual contestation. Subversive pilgrims are now finding themselves
more in morally ambiguous worlds. The Christian church, from its
‘Constantinian’ (Yoder, 1972) subsumption has, in its imperial thrust for
institutions, also established a form of ritualism that has stunted the
evolutionary course and revolutionary potential of ritual vis-à-vis social
change processes. Such ‘Constantinianism’, according to Hauerwas, has
made the Christian community or the church ‘invisible and weightless’,
‘disembodying rather than solidifying Christian identity’ (Reno, 2004: 311).
The rite of passage as an enacted process of humanization, and as
expressed in terms of pakikisama-to-pakikibaka (de la Torre, 1986) or reedto-people processions (Anno, 1998), is also symbolically contracted and
enacted in spatio-temporal rites. Not unlike the Christian liturgy, the pasyon
6
(Ileto, 1979) or the contemporary paschal myth of a people’s struggle is
also celebrated in time and space, in images and symbols, and in
performative movements and utterances. It is thus necesary that before a
theological re-reading and liturgical re-framing takes place, the pakikibaka
has to be understood in its own symbolic-connective (symbollein) terms ­
ritual terms.
A people’s pakikibaka as a passage dramaturgy is most visibly and fully
embodied in street rites popularly known as the rali (protest rally) - the
symbolic center of a social upheaval’s multifarious ritual expressions. The
word rali registers in popular imagination as synonymous with virtually all
forms of struggle. The word has gone beyond its literal self to subsume, in
its symbolic significance, all existing forms of resistance from the armed
uprising in the countryside to the ‘parliament of the streets’. From the First
1970s’ Unang Sigwa (First Quarter Storm, January-April 1970 protest rallies)
to the Welgang Bayan (People’s strike) and People Power mobilisations of
the current day, the rali has established itself as the people’s main form of
self-insertion into public life and discourse. And thus has, by incident and
design, transformed itself into a formal composite of the various forms of
resistance, configuring pakikibaka’s wide-ranging, far-reaching multiformal,
and multi-modal expressions.1 The rali, in other words, is the pakikibaka in
its more popular form - where the struggle identifies and communicates
itself, reaches to a broader number of people, and where it is able to
establish itself in memory and popular consciousness, and even
institutionally in national legislation work.
Makibaka, huwag matakot (dare to Struggle, fear not!) is the rali slogan
that continues to establish the oral-aural and act-ive link between the rali as
a specific public performance and the politics of struggle as a whole. It was
from the Unang Sigwa rallies that makibaka or pakikibaka re-emerged as a
‘national battlecry’ (Lacaba, 1982: xxiii), and gained its iconic significance
as a word/ slogan among activists in popular struggle, literature and public
discourse (Bautista, 1988: 26). An all-embodying form of dissident political
action, the rali can also be seen from a dimension that sees the act as a
ritual performance involving movements and utterances. In the rali, people
take to the streets in ritualised performance that attempts at translating
dissident thought into action and visualisation, and/or a performance that is
integrative of dissident thought and action/visualization (Bell, 1992: 32).
Conventionally, the rali is consummated by marching, chanting, speeches,
mass singing, cultural performances, display of iconic images and symbols,
flags, effigies, murals, masks, banners, placards, etc. But since the rali is a
performative rite conceived with radically transformative objective, its ritual
character should be seen more in the light of the more gerundive wordform: ‘ritualisation’.
A. The Rali and Ritualisation. According to Tom Driver, ritualisation suggests
an employment of a more ‘developmental perspective’ in the understanding
of ritual activity (1988: 12). From this more dynamic view, ritual is not the
7
eternally static formal activity ‘dropped from heaven’ but one that is
‘created in the course of time on the basis of ritualisations evolved by many
species, not least our own, to cope with danger, to communicate, and to
celebrate’ (1988: 12). The foregoing definition also practically appropriates
a now strongly established consensus emphasizing ritual as a creative
process and, or a ‘transformative performance’ (Turner and Turner, 1978:
244), expanding though not necessarily deviating from the more
conventional or classical attempts at definition (Alexander, 1991: 12). This
re-focusing on the process of ritualisation also interfaces with what
Catherine Bell points to as an emerging new paradigm in both ritual studies
and ritual practice (1997: 264) - a new paradigm that is only now leveling
the playing field of ritual politics, meaning, the glossing over of the ‘wethem’, ‘scholar-practitioner’ paradigm, and bringing about ‘social
expressions of a new freedom to ritualize’ (1997: 260ff, 263). But for the
purposes of this paper and a slight shift from the self-critical context of Bell
(of contemporary ritual studies as having the potential to ‘subordinate,
relativise, and ultimately undermine many aspects of ritual practice ... and
traditional ritual authorities’), this essay focuses on the expanded concept
of, and space for, the praxis of ritualisation away from the boundaries of
strictly religious rituals to political rites - pakikibaka rites in particular.
The interest in pakikibaka life-rites wells from the currency of an increasing
configuration of the political and the cultural, or specifically - protest politics
and religion in the manifestly quasi-religious ritualisations of resistance.
B. Ritualisation in a shifting theopolitical context. Since the 1986 People
Power Revolt, protests in the latter’s mould like Edsa Two (January 2001)
had been reviewed more as a ritual phenomenon in liturgico-theological
terms. The erection of the Edsa Shrine centered solely on a distinctively
Catholic icon, however, objectively inflated beyond proportion the narrative
of the Catholic hierarchy’s participation in the said event. This literally
monumental objectification has unfairly undermined the more dramatic
narrative of converged voices and forces that dates back to the earlier years
of the Marcos dictatorship. It is not without this messianic pathos - a
lingering institutional interest, that the religious establishment had gradually
considered protest mobilizations as rites with potential theological and
liturgical significance. Nonetheless, on the one hand, interest in post Edsa
1986 protest politics is well within the frame of an ongoing theological and
missiological project approached from various commitments and
perspectives within the church.
In Inculturation and Filipino Theology, Leonardo Mercado dealt with secular
political ritual but only briefly and from the prism of inculturation concerns
using mainly Van Gennep’s and Turner’s concepts of liminality and antistructure, respectively (1992: 131-137). His main emphases were on the
structure-anti-structure dialectic in rituals; and on the identification of these
secular rituals’ ‘root metaphors’, ‘liminal’ and ‘communal’ character (132). In
another stream of inculturation praxis, Gaspar, a lay theologian and
8
community worker, grappled more directly with protest rituals, but partly or
mainly, in their already ‘religionised’ forms (1986). Pumipiglas: Teyolohiya
ng Bayan, originally a liturigco-cultural production, demonstrates how a
theology and liturgy of struggle can emerge from the relocation of the
‘streets’ into the Roman Rite and vise versa (vi). This mutual ritualisation­
politicisation process is the same mode being experimented in liturgical
contextualisation practices among a few but significant number of
ecumenical communities in the country for some decades now.
Among the predominantly Christian Filipinos, two rituals are on a path to
convergence: the religious rites of the church and the public ritualisations of
protest in the ‘parliament of the streets’ and in ‘marginal critical’
communities (Veiling, 1996: 1ff.). The church rite is itself steadily
challenged from the margins and outside by popular piety where people are
asserting their authority, albeit unofficially, over ritual interpretation and
practice. As cited above, protest rites on the one hand are effecting a
radical shift in liturgico-theological thinking among those reached by their
agitations. One of the catalysts of this mutual ritual exchange is the
introduction of Basic Christian Communities during the 70s (Nadeau, 2002:
xv; New Internationalists, 2004). The spread of these primarily liturgical
communities has to a significant degree helped in directly bridging the gap
between social action and religious rites (Youngblood, 1990: 101-137;
Nadeau, 2002: 111-116; Samson, 1999). Popular protest and religious piety
outside of the BCCs, however, have their own way of coming together as
popular rites had been, since the colonial period, a potent form of anti­
establishment mobilisation. Even in its introverted moment, popular piety
has been clandestinely political, or ‘infrapolitical’ - embodying and
expressing the subversive consciousness and veiled defiance of the masa
(Scott, 1985: 4).
The integration of protest into the theological and liturgical discourse in
BCCs and beyond, among politically engaged clergy and lay people,
provided the context for Carvajal’s argument on the development, among
an increasing number of Christians, of a more ‘dynamic worldview’ as
opposed to what he assigns as monistic and dualistic worldviews (Carvajal
in Torres and Fabella, 1978: 102).
People consequently shift the focus of their scrutiny from the ideal to the
historical, from the other world to this world, from essence to existence,
from God to human beings. ... They [also] find hope in the knowledge,
objective and scientific, that the present state of things is not an eternally
decreed order, static and permanent, but the result of concrete historical
material forces. They begin to be conscious of a world that is not a finished
product but a seed that must be developed and brought to fruition by their
own creative powers. Human beings are coming to their own (1978: 102).
ToS emerged from this confluence of the political, the liturgical and the
theological (Gaspar in Battung, 1986; Fernandez, 1996: 24). ‘The people’s
9
celebration of their pain and struggle’ writes Gaspar, ‘is the matrix that led
to the birthing of the theology of struggle’ (Gaspar, 1988: 48-49). Thus,
there is an emerging theological and political context that is providing an
interpretive and creative base for new ritualisations in the service and in
celebration of a people’s process of becoming. But how does this ostensibly
modernistic theo-political context correspond with the very process of
politicisation into pakikibaka in view of the given religio-cultural mores of
the Filipino?
C. Pakikibaka rites and Filipino spirituality. Catherine Bell, summing up
Radcliffe-Brown, essays that rituals ‘simultaneously expresses and creates
the sentiment of dependence on a type of moral spiritual power that is
thought to transcend the realm of the human’ (1997: 28). Following
Durkheim’s reduction, that ‘type of moral spiritual power that is thought to
transcend the realm of the human’ may be the one ‘social solidarity’ (25)
being sought in sociopolitical phenomena like the Philippine ‘People Power’
revolts. This proposition run true to the experience of many protest
participants, especially those clueless neophytes (like Marie, the ambulant
vendor at her first rali). Their fears, anxieties, and doubts while still in small
groups on their way to protest mobilisation are assuaged and mollified as
soon as they are assimilated into and swamped by a humungous crowd of
raliyestas. But, primarily, it is that ‘moral spiritual power’, at many times,
projected theologically as the God who favors the powerless and less
privileged, that is apprehended as the moving force behind mobilizations for
just causes. I would mention at least two examples here, the 1986 People
Power uprising, a populist uprising that had brought together political
groups from varying ideological persuasions, and the January 1987
Mendiola March of the biggest and more militant farmers’ organization in
the country, the Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas (KMP [Peasant Movement
of the Philippines]) (Maglipon, 1987: xi).2 An observation by Randy David
would perhaps suffice to give us a picture of how the People Power revolt,
at its prosecution a ‘revolutionary’ event, was transformed into a ritual,
the language was utterly mystical, the language of ritual, of something that
unabashedly supernatural. You have all these men and women going down
on their knees before the tanks and advancing soldiers. The Cursillistas
were saying their rosaries all through the night. It was not the language of
the Marxist, it was not the language of the liberation theologian; it was the
language of the supernatural (Maggay in Elwood 1988: 63).
Melba Maggay, a social scientist also paints the broad ecumenical face of
the religio-political ritual that was taking place,
On our right we had the Muslims, doing their prayers five times a day. On
our left we had the Cursillistas and the Nazarene women making their vigils
all night long. And of course there were the evangelicals singing their hearts
out, singing Onward Christian soldiers.(1988: 64)
10
The People Power revolt was, thus, an example of, in classic Durkheimian
language, a sacralising ‘effervescent social action mediated through rituals’
(Schilling and Mellor, 2001: 41). The January 1987 Mendiola March on one
hand was, not unlike the ill-fated Lapiang Malaya march of 1967, a peasantbased mobilisation rallying around a theo-political discourse. Jaime Tadeo,
leader of the KMP and a lay preacher of the Iglesia Filipina Independiente
put the ongoing conflict this way,
Land was given by God for all His children, not just for a few people. Our
struggle is just and moral. Today, when we return to the countryside, we
will not follow an unjust law that was made by the ruling class - the cause
of our misery! Instead, we will follow a higher law - the law of God!
Comrades, onward to Malacanang (Presidential Palace)! Break the
barricades at Mendiola! (Tiongson, 1991).
Tadeo’s homiletical speech effectively transformed a fundamental peasant
issue - the ownership of land into a definitive theo-political statement. The
march that ensued turned up nineteen farmers dead.
From the above, one can surmise that the mores of the late Katipunan
revolution still suffuse much of contemporary protest culture. Filipino
political culture is full of paradoxes and defies confinement to ‘either/or
oppositions’ (Ileto, 1998: 81). Philippine microhistory, according to Ileto,
‘reveals partial allegiances, guarded accommodations, shifting identities,
and changing definitions of authority and salvation’ (1998: 81). It was
possible to identify with the center while resisting it. Thus, even the soft
Left who still comprise a significant number in Left formations may be
resisting religion but still identify with it ethos. In much the same way, the
arch-religious may be resistant against but still identify with their Marxist
comrades and their struggles, including the very vision of proletarian
egalitarianism.
This political culture corresponds well with, or is probably even shaped by
that basic indigenous Filipino spirituality, that is, according to Mercado, both
‘static’ and ‘dynamic’. It receives and rejects, and also proves conservative
as well as progressive vis-à-vis change processes (Mercado in Obusan,
1998: 188). Secondly, Filipino religiosity also proved to be good at
inculturation, at interpreting and processing of foreign religious imports to
fit into its symbol systems (Rafael, 1993). Thus, Marxism-Leninism-Maoism,
a political faith, or that of American liberal democracy, can be as ‘Filipino’
as Roman Catholicism and Protestant Christianity. And thirdly, the native
sees reality in a non-dualist lens, a whole world constituted by two
compenetrating worlds of visibles and invisibles (Hornedo, 2001: 182) ­
which the Edsa revolts and other martsa mobilizations were, or at least how
most of the participants located the said events and their part in it.
11
II. MARTSA: A SPIRITUALITY OF PAGLALAKBAY
One of the main forms of Rali ritualisation is the “Martsa (protest march).”
This Martsa is to be differentiated from the martsa associated with military
and citizens’ parada (parades) or marches during town fiestas and civil
ceremonies that are so commonplace in the Philippines. However, Martsa’s
association with them should be likewise noted as the protest march’s lure
may have greatly derived from the popularity of the martsa or parada
among the populace. Martsa and parada are interchangeable in the popular
vocabulary. They are both mass movements that draw people to line the
streets and windows. At the same time, in most instances, local martsa/
parada are organized to represent almost everyone, including street
sweepers and toddlers in many civic marches, to put on a face of
community and solidarity. In many localities from the municipal to the barrio
and sitios, the martsa/parada’s is made a regular rite, either annually or
several times in the year.
While the protest march is an age-old global phenomenon that may had
pre-dated modern democratic institutions (Bendix in McLauighlin, 1969, p.
200; Freeman, 1999: 1; Nunberg, 2002) it also has, in various societal
context, evolved its own distinctive local traditions and expressions. Beyond
its primarily and mainly political character, protest march in the Philippines
also has the resonance of the traditional martsa/parada. It does not lack
the ingredients that make it a spectacle, an entertainment, an object of
both people’s curiosity and bewilderment, and at times wrath when causing
vehicular and pedestrian traffic jams. Moreover, there is also one mass
activity that it further relates to: the prusisyon (religious procession).
Martsa also bears the character of a religious procession, especially as most
traditional non-protest marches are held during fiestas in honor of patron
saints. There are many instances when the martsa is perceived as a
prusisyon, or intentionally designed as such, or when a prusisyon is
transformed into a political march. The May 1967 Lapiang Malaya (Freedom
Party) march - the tragic march that blazed a new trail in contemporary
resistance politics, while ideologically a pole apart from a protest movement
that was then showing signs of emergence, was demonstrative of the crux
of the above phenomenon (Ileto, 1979: 1-3).3 It was prototypical of how
later marches came to be perceived and practiced.
Three years after the ill-fated 1967 ‘Black Sunday Massacre’, the Martsa had
become a regular fixture of the country’s sociopolitical landscape. The
massive protest marches that have crowded the streets of Metro Manila ­
from 1970 onward and interrupted only by the intervening martial law years
had been the subject not only of the social sciences, protest literature, and
political theological writings but a street phenomenon that had also aroused
the interest of politically engaged artists.
A. Martsa as prusisyon. In one of his pen and ink work while in detention,
Father Ed de la Torre who is also a visual artist presented the martsa as
12
something else - a religious procession (dela Torre, 1986: 85, 155). He
sketched a protest march imaginarily viewed from a detainee’s cell and
ended up with a depiction of a prusisyon. De la Torre, a political theologian,
activist and a long time detainee of the Marcos regime wrote about this
sketch in a reflection ,
Reading about all the protest actions, seeing so many new faces glowing
like the girls with lit
candles during processions, I felt like a house-bound devotee, who has to
be content with lighting a candle on the window sill as the procession
passes by’ (1986, 155).
The association was by no means arbitrary, martsa and prusisyon are one
experience and performance to a people raised or bred in a house of sacred
canopies. One other visual artist did a work on the prusisyon and earned
reviews that had relocated Filipino religiosity deeper into the politics of
resistance and redemption. Emmanuel Garibay’s “Prusisyon” (1995) was
part of his bigger Christological project -an attempt on his part as a
theological artist to contribute to the contextualisation of the Christ in the
grim and squalor of contemporary Philippine realities. While Garibay’s
“Prusisyon” can stand on its own as a dramaturgical narrative mirroring
Filipino popular spirituality, it is perhaps best to place it within the context
of his bridging the transcendent with the radical profanities of pakikibaka [in
its Martsa form], a view that both the Beller and Hilario reviews so
extravagantly suggest (Beller, 1999; Hilario, 2002). The artist’s blurring of
the visual lines between a prusisyon and protest march reflect much of the
views and perspectives, even the inchoate eyes and voices one can gather
from pakikibaka’s very subjects, then and now.
The above artists’ perception or re-interpretation of the protest march as
being actualized like a religious procession is not merely one that results
from the imaginative and creative stroke of brush or pen but one that is
grounded in the views and experiences of activists from church and other
sectors alike. Fr. Ernie (not his real name), an Iglesia Filipina Independiente
(IFI) priest, when asked how he felt about joining protest marches
immediately quipped, Kagaya ng isang prusisyon, ang martsa ay isang
pagpapahayag sa kadakilaan ng Diyos (like a procession, the march is an
act of proclaming God’s greatness). Fr. Ernie pointed to the “IFI
experience” where advocacy for the cause of the working class is
constitutional to the life and work of the church. From its founding in 1902,
toward the end of a crippling Union Obrera Democratico strike, the IFI had
been very consistent with its advocacy for the rights and welfare of the
working class. It is this same history that had IFI fused its rituals with the
politics from below in many of its forms - including protest marches. For his
part, Fr. Bart (not his real name), a familiar face in marches was
straightforward on the question: ‘Like in a pilgrimage’. ‘At the very site
where marchers are held by anti-riot police’, adds the Benedictine priest,
‘there is the pilgrimage station, and like pilgrims, protesters experience
13
transformation at these stations’. In suggesting that the martsa is like a
pilgrimage, the activist priest introduced another powerful dramaturgical
metaphor that needs further decoding.
B. The making of subversive pilgrims.
The concept of the limen or ‘liminality’ introduced by Van Gennep in his
seminal work The Rites of Passage (1960) had now been liberally
appropriated to frame processes of social and individual transformations in
the struggle. ‘By identifying liminality’, writes Turner and Turner,
Van Gennep discovered a major innovative, transformative dimension of the
social. He paved the way for future studies of all processes of
spatiotemporal social or individual change. For liminality cannot be confined
to the processual form of the traditional rites of passage in which he
identified it. Nor can it be dismissed as an undesirable (and certainly
uncomfortable) movement of variable duration between successive
conservatively secure states of being, cognition, or status-role incumbency.
Liminality is now seen to apply to all phases of decisive cultural change, in
which previous orderings of thought and behavior are subject to revision
and criticism, when hitherto unprecedented modes of ordering relations
between ideas and people become possible and desirable (1978: 2)
The politics of mass resistance, in view of the above perspective, can now
be seen through the conceptual and practical prism of les rites de passage
as well as that of a Christian ‘pilgrimage’. A rite of passage is like a
pilgrimage in that it brings a person or a people from one spatiotemporal
state to another - from being to becoming, or in Ifugao mythography - from
reedic existence to peoplehood (Anno, 1968).
The martsa is a ritual performance of passage that gives form to what
Victor Turner (1969: 95) calls as the limen: the threshold between two
identities - a transition phase where new situations, identities and social
realities present themselves. In the martsa, the participant is ushered in to
a new identity or role - that of a nakikibaka (a person who struggles). Ka
Mameng, a tindera (street vendor) and a battered wife, found herself a new
identity in her joining mass mobilisations. In ralis, she overcame her ‘fear of
freedom’ and rose to become the most articulate spokesperson of the
country’s urban poor community (Andaquig, 2002: 32-36). Sonny, a laid off
worker, sees his life in the picket line and his first marches as his baptism
into a new life. Ayee, a former student activist, now a full time community
organizer in the countryside, was transformed from a thrill seeking
youngster to a committed activist. Other interviews on how ralis affected
participant’s lives like Marie, another tindera (ambulant vendor) who found
her life transformed by her participation in protests mobilizations, suggest
experiences of liminality, i.e., the preliminary, liminal and postliminal, where
persons go through the ritual process- experience of ‘separation’, of
‘marginalisation’ and transformation (Turner, 1969: 95; Alexander, 1991;
14
Driver 1998).4 In their becoming raliyestas, they open themselves up to be
remolded and fashioned anew, as Sonny himself shared,
Diyan ako mismo [sa rali] mas lalong nahubog — yung mas puspusang
pagkamilitante ... Diyan ko na binasag yung mga makikitid na pananaw ko,
eh.
(It was at the [rali] that the fullness of my militance was moulded. It was
there that my narrow views were crushed)’.
It is also very significant to note that on their views and perspectives, the
marching masa talked substantially about themselves. After their eloquent,
if stereotypical responses on the march as the masa’s boses (voice) and
armas (weapon), pagpapahayag ng pagtutol (expression of resistance),
pagmumulat sa kaisipan ng mamamayan (an act of raising people’s
awareness), and as a form of service to the underclass among others, the
respondents turned more introspective. They all talk of the march as
something ‘makabuluhan (meaningful)’ to them.
Marie’s first rali, a sakbayan-lakbayan (people’s caravan-people’s journey)5
to Mendiola exposed her to a radically new world where people openly
name and defy the perceived causes of their affliction: nagugulat ako bakit
merong sumisigaw ng ‘imperyalismo ibagsak!’ at yung tinatawag nilang
tatlong salot ng lipunang Pilipino (I was surprised why they are shouting,
‘down with imperialism!’ and those that they name as ‘three plagues’ of
Philippine society). But Marie experienced at the same time both meaning
and delight, and talked of her realisation of self-worth,
Yung pagsamasama sa rali, doon ko natutunan na ano pala ako, ano ba
tawag doon? Yung kasama pala ako sa pagtatanggol ng mamamayan (It is
through my participation in rallies that I learned of my being in the
company of those who are defending the people).
Marie also echoes what Ka Manny, a 35-year old worker, self-realisingly
said, Ramdam na ramdam ko yung kabuluhan ko sa lipunan (I really feel my
worth in society). Mass activists also extol their participation as provident of
‘time and space for discovery, discernment, healing and illumination’ (Coyle,
2004: 1),
Isa sa pinakadakilang nangyari sa buhay ko ay noong naging aktibista ako,
kasi namulat ako at lumaya ang aking pag-iisip at naging Malaya akong
magpahayag... damdaming makabayan (My becoming an activist was one
of the greatest things that happened in my life - because my eyes were
opened and my mind was freed. I was liberated to express myself ... and
I’d shed off my individualism and embraced the nationalist spirit).
The above respondents’ views were descriptive of a liminal-to-postliminal
ritual of spatial resurrection. Participation in a rali, in other words, is a
pilgrimage-like rite of passage that participants go through as they leave
15
their imposed and subordinated identities to acquire a radically new one.
The rali, however, remains primarily a passage rite that objectifies a mass
experience of pagkamulat (enlightenment) and empowerment from
conditions of/or impressions of mass subjugation and hegemonic
compliance, and thus, a collective experience of the limen. The countless
stories of passage, while relatively devoid of religious reference, follow a
structure that may be subsumed by a larger story that is re-locating itself in
popular mytho-narratives.
C. Martsa and the Christian myth. Another identifiable mark of a
contemporary protest march in the Philippines is its regeneration of the
sense of the sacred in mass movements. The mythical and sacral
projections of contemporary pakikibaka draw substantively from popular
interpretations of the Christian story (as Christianity of the Hispanic Catholic
strain is deeply intertwined with the historical and sociocultural
development of the Filipino). A rali during a Semana Santa (Holy Week)
visually illustrates this point: the raliyestas, or the deboto (devout/devotee)
in consonance with the spirit of the rali taking the form of a prusisyon, wear
in their heads veils and replicas of Christ’s crowns of thorns. The streamer
fronting the prusisyon reads kalbaryo ng maralita (Calvary of the poor)
(Ibon, 1991). Red flags bearing initials of sponsoring organizations are
raised with the cross and, occasionally, a sea of clenched fists. It is the
seven huge murals - the aesthetic center of the prusisyon, however, that
spell out the theme of the religio-political event. The first of the murals bear
the first of Jesus’ siete palabras in the cross Ama, bakit mo ako
pinabayaan? (Father, why had you forsaken me?) - prominently
superimposed on a painting of the Christ muzzled from all sides by M16
armalite rifles. The rest of the seven ‘last words’ are equally interpreted by
different images depicting the masa’s participation in the suffering and
death of Christ. An exception is the mural with the Kristo’s last words, Sa
inyong mga kamay, inihahabilin ko ang aking kaluluwa (Into your hands, I
commend my spirit). It depicts a more colorful and buoyant image of a
mass of people being showered with light emanating from a rainbow. The
prusisyon concludes at a dumpsite with the performance of a senakulo
(passion play) where performers were outfitted with masks and costumes
impersonating the primary characters of the Holy Week. The Kristo,
however, was broken down into a mass of Kristos, adequately explained in
a choral voice over, ‘dinggin mo ang daing ng mga bagong Kristo’ (hear ye
the cries of the Christs of today).
The Christian mythic frame in popular ritualisations is also the same frame
that subtly constructs significant journalistic accounts of earlier political
engagements. In Days of Disquiet, Nights of Rage’ (Lacaba 1982), in what
historians and literary critics adjudged as ‘the best extant narrative yet of
those turbulent months forever enshrined in folk memory as the First
Quarter [1970] Storm’ (Navarro-Salanga, 1982). Jose Lacaba not only
described the series of protests ‘with firm grasp and meticulous details’
(Magno, 1982) but also recount it in a way that fuses with a familiar
16
religious narrative. In Lacaba’s reportage of the March 20 People’s March
Against Poverty, he wrote,
... and there was about it all the usual air of triumph, exultation, gaiety, for
the marchers believed that their cause was just, believed that despite
seemingly impossible odds they would overcome, and therefore there was
no reason to be sunk in despair, they were buoyed up by hope. The road
was long, the sun was hot, their stomachs were empty, their legs were
numb, but if the way of protest was Via Dolorosa for weary bodies, it was
not so for stout hearts and buoyant spirits. Aching bones and blistered feet
were not cause for sorrow, could not dampen the sense of humor of the
marchers. And this was as it should be. For revolution, it has been said, is a
festival of the oppressed. Therefore it is never wholly grim: a passion for
justice and rage against oppression go well with laughter and gusto, this
even the most doctrinaire must never forget (1982: 133).
Lacaba wrote what probably describes the typical protest march in the
Philippines, then and now. It amplifies the following elements typical to a
people’s march: sense of community, ‘stout hearts’ and ‘cheerful spirits’,
sense of humor and laughter, as well as ‘passion [for justice] and rage
[against oppression]’. Thus, the rali or the march has some of the essential
ingredients of a ritual performance that is either religious or secular or
betwixt. But Lacaba, in addition, also suggested intent on the part of
organizers to lead the marchers to walk Via Dolorosa — through ‘way of the
cross’. This effectively transformed the march into a prusisyon where a
political activity, in this case the people’s march, was re-presented as
transcending its material character to project it as a religious event.
The people’s march ... was apparently designed to be more difficult. It
began in the morning, so that the marchers had to get up earlier than usual
and even forego lunch, and it followed a circuitous route that took them
beyond comfortable cement and asphalt roads into the rough, dusty, muddy,
smelly side streets of shantytown. For many of the participants, the march
was the first introduction to the grim realities of poverty in the city: the
depressing tin-and-cardboard shacks that are so picturesque in paintings,
the filthy snooty children in rags, the stagnant esteros thick with flies and
garbage, the smell of excrement and decay in the air (Lacaba, 1982: 131).
Besides its immediate protest objective, the march’ schema also provided
many of the demonstrators an initiatory experience of participation, albeit
momentary, in the life condition and suffering of the urban poor populace.
To first time but intellectually challenged demonstrators, it was a march of
discovery and awakening to the plight of those in the margins. The visual
and grueling physical challenges of the march initiated many of the
participants in to a process of conscientisation and social conversion. What
is worth noting however is Lacaba’s consistent prosaic relocation of his on­
17
the-spot reports to a story most familiar among Christian Filipinos - the
passion of the Christ.
The People’s March alone took at least six hours, with only three brief
periods of rest ... it was no picnic. The hot sun assaulted your eyes, the
sweat poured down your back, cramps possessed your legs, and your throat
cried out for water every step of the way. The cynics who sneer at students
for joining demonstrations and say that all they want is to enjoy a holiday,
being too lazy to study their lessons, should try joining the next People’s
March (Lacaba, 1982: 113).
The march pictures itself as the Kristo on his prusisyon to Calvary, assaulted
and sneered at. But there, too, is the image of a penitensiya (penitence) ­
of self- flagellating devotees keeping their panata (religious vows) going
through the way of the cross, and this time promising more than the
participant’s spiritual redemption. It is a popular Christological dramaturgy
unfolding in a march.
These accounts prefigured the dramaturgy of later post-Marcos political
mobilizations. The ill-fated January 20, 1987 Mendiola march which led to
the death of 19 peasant protesters, to cite a more momentous event, was
not unrelated to the Via Dolorosa of the First Quarter Storm ralis. The
invocation of the sacred was the main text of the exhortation that
immediately preceded the march by Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas
militants. Atop a platform in front of the Department of Agriculture where
the peasant group had been camping in demanding for a genuinely profarmer agrarian reform program for days, Jaime Tadeo, a peasant leader
made an impassioned speech christening the peasant struggle for land as
just, moral and advocacy for God’s law. Though not rhetorically explicit, the
said Mendiola march was dramaturgically christological. The relocation of
the rali into the realm of ‘God’s law’, and its pursuit of the said higher law in
the defiance of unjust laws of the ruling class, provide if not consummate
its religious character, christological structure, and processional ritual form.
D. The quest for a sacred space. The defiance of the ruling class in favor of
a higher law is the expression in a mass scale of a pilgrim spirituality, and a
pilgrim’s subversive spirituality. Either way [of an activist rediscovering
religion, or a religious practicing the politics of his faith], the politics of
defiance in the christological narrative proceeds from an escathological goal
towards which people, in a pilgrimage-like fashion, ‘pass through territories
not their own - seeking ... completion’ (Coyle, 2004). The poor and the
cadre who constitute the majority in the community of resistance are
materially without territory. Their being assigned as people connected to or
belonging to the ‘underground’ eloquently states a literal fact. To them, to
rise and speak up in an act of defiance is literally to move through
territories not their own, and their moving pass through these territories is
the cross they have to bear. This is how much of a Martsa, a passage, a
18
prusisyon, a pilgrimage the life of a Southern Tagalog activist Felix
Dumalagan is in his pakikibaka toward ‘Golgotha’.
hindi tayo tumatangis ni nagdurusa,
‘pagkat siya’y isang martir ng dakilang krusada
kanyang dinala sa paanan ng Golgota
ang krus ng matapang na pakikibaka”
We are not crying, nay suff’ring
He’s the martyr of a great crusade
he brought in to lay at Golgotha’s foot
the cross of a fearless struggle.
In the requiem’s narrative, Golgotha refers to the crushing of imperyalismo,
pyudalismo, burukrata kapitalismo and pasismo6 in the building of a tunay
na demokrasya ng paglaya, pagkakapantay-pantay at katarungang
panlipunan (true democracy of freedom, equality and social justice). In the
realm of rites and symbols, ‘completion’ or the ‘just world’ (SchusslerFiorenza, 1991), or the new order as spelled out above is contracted into a
space. This follows that the subversive pilgrims’ quest in a Martsa is a
place where the pakikibaka’s dreams are at the least symbolically embodied
and consummated. Hence, what completes the protest marchers’ prusisyon
is a space sacralised by political faith - the spatial goal towards which
subversive pilgrims walk their pilgrimage.
III. MENDIOLA: A SACRALISATION OF POLITICAL SPACE
There may be no transport strike tomorrow, but militant women are set to
take to the streets to confront the president for her “lies and sins to Filipino
women.” Gabriela will mobilize about 10,000 women who will gather in
Plaza Miranda, Manila at 10 a.m. Monday and will march to Mendiola later
in the day. ... At 4 p.m., it will be Sanlakas’ turn to gather about 3,000
people to march from Morayta to Mendiola. The group will protest the
increasing prices of basic commodities and support the transport sector’s
call for a rollback in oil prices (Philippine Daily Inquirer, March 7, 2004).
Mendiola Bridge, as the Philippine Daily Inquirer news item above indicates,
is central to the geo-politics of cause-oriented movements in the
Philippines. Regardless of the issues and themes of their activities, mass
mobilizations always set their eyes at Mendiola as the ultimate venue. The
pattern for most Martsa has been that of starting from locations with direct
spatial relation to issue(s) being rallied around and ending at the historic
bridge. Or at times, among farmers and workers, camps or pickets include a
march to Mendiola in their program, either as a final push or as a major
demonstration activity.
Mendiola’s environ is a stale, lethargic and grimy landscape crammed by
pedestrians, ambulant vendors, crisscrossing vehicles of all sorts, and now
unsightly towered over by a rail track. The bridge is situated at the end of
19
a cramped corridor of university campuses and commercial establishments,
way beyond the shadows of busy Recto Street’s old and decrepit buildings.
Mendiola was renamed Don Chino Roces Tulay ng Kalayaan (Freedom
bridge) in memory of a libertarian publicist who was a leading figure in
many protest activities in the said site during the Marcos period. Mendiola
is a highly symbolic site primarily due to its proximity, as one of the three
gateways, to the Presidential Palace. As a space, however, the bridge first
gained prominence when it became the major site of protest activities
during the first quarter of 1970. The death of four protesters during the
‘battle of Mendiola’ in January 1970 earned the site a niche in the history of
the country’s protest movement. The January 22, 1987 massacre of
nineteen peasant marchers in the same site further established Mendiola as
a spatial icon - ‘a symbol, writes a Malaya editorial, “of the people’s struggle
against tyranny and oppression’ (Maglipon, 1987: xxxiii).
A. Mendiola in the eschatology of pakikibaka
Nagliliwayway na’t mapula ang langi.t
Ang bayang inapi ngayo’y nakatindig.
Pakikibaka ay lalong sumigasig.
Sa daang Mendiola, tagumpay ang awit.
(It’s dawning and heaven is crimson red.
An oppressed people have now stood up.
The struggle has intensified. In the street of Mendiola,
victory is the song).7
Protest rituals, i.e., marches and demonstrations; arts and literature
contributed immensely to the establishment of Mendiola as a signpost in the
religio-politics of the struggle. Their attempts at immortalizing Mendiola
and the events associated with the place helped in the formulation of
postulates that accord Mendiola its set-apart identity. In Bienvenido
Lumbrera’s plaintive song, Mendiola, the said space — the site of one-sided
battles in favor of state authorities becomes the site of people’s celebration
of their hopes for social redemption. Mendiola, in the ‘sanctified
expressions’ of the song, stands tall as the sole spatial referent in
pakikibaka’s eschatological imagination.8 In contrast to EDSA that stands as
a monument of triumphal ‘People Power’ movements, Mendiola is one that
would only symbolize the utter futility of struggle against the overwhelming
power of the state. With the exception of only a few occasions when the
state barricades of Mendiola were crossed by protesters, the bridge remains
symbolic of the impregnability of the status quo. Nevertheless, the esteem
earned by Mendiola is such that the place now remains in folk memory as
the spatial center of contemporary protest movement in the Philippines. The
parting lines of an opinion column on a recent Filipino boxing spectacle
perhaps better reflect the adulation Mendiola enjoys,
20
Pacquiao may not have won the crown from Marquez, but he won
something that may have been more valuable than Marquez titles,
something that had eluded him amid talk he brought down a Barrera that
was ready to be put to pasture. He had won respect. Not quite EDSA, but a
lot like Mendiola (de Quiros, 2004).
Mendiola, unlike EDSA, may not have won the battles for the protest
community, but it won something that may have been more valuable than
what EDSA earned, or the state’s relative success in quelling dissent. It
goes beyond mere respect. As mediated through the song, Mendiola
dispenses a quality of discourse that arouses a sense of redemption and
triumph among society’s underdogs. In view of the current sociopolitical
condition of powerlessness and despondency, the site looms large in
Lumbrera’s Mendiola as a Kalbaryo (Calvary) where Inang Bayan
(motherland) is mocked and humiliated
Inang bayan bakit may piring ang mata
May busal ang bibig may takip ang tainga
May gapos ang kamay ng lumang kadena
Why are the eyes of my Motherland covered?
her mouth and ears swathed and swaddled?
her hands shackled by the chains of old?
And not unlike Kalbaryo, Mendiola is made powerful in its powerlessness,
and triumphant in its defeat. In Mendiola Inang Bayan goes through a
Christ-like suffering and death as well as affirm her struggles and
resurrection.
may gapos ang kamay ng lumang kadena
hanap ay paglaya sa daang Mendiola
... sa daang Mendiola tagumpay ang awit
her hands are shackled by the chains of old
freedom is what she seeks in the streets of Mendiola
... in the streets of Mendiola, victory is the song
Mendiola, to use Belden Lane’s restatament of Mircea Eliade, is ‘an ordinary
place’ that is ‘ritually made extraordinary’ (Knott, 2005: 25-26). Roy
Rappaport, in the same vein, writes that the sacred resides not in the object
signified by religious discourse but the quality of the discourse itself
(Rappaport, 1999). Or, as In this light, the sacralisation of political space
comes by way of intense, frequent and consistent ritualisation - elements
that are manifested in Mendiola protests. These ritualisations, in similar
Durkheimian proposition, release ‘effervescent social energies’ that elevate
spaces as profane as Mendiola to sacral planes (Schilling and Mellor, 2001:
44).
21
B. Mendiola and the dramaturgy of struggle. The street of Mendiola, today,
is home to at least three monuments lined up vertically in the bridge’s
island. At the center, and the most prominent, is the triple-life-size statue of
a drenched Don Chino Roces atop a ten feet-high pedestal. He is kneeling
on his left knee while raising with his right hand an empty cross. Fronting
the row of monuments, and elevated by a six-foot plinth, is a five-feet high
figure of an arm raising a torch with a dove-shaped flame. At the other end
of the row is a life-sized three-dimensional marker-post with a pyramidic
top. Mounted in two sides are bronze plates with this inscription:
On this historic bridge, countless of Filipinos
raised their voices in protest, fighting for
freedom, truth and justice.
From 21 September 1972 to 25 February 1986,
this bridge became the dividing line
between the forces of oppression and the
deprived people of this nation.
Here, various groups of cause-oriented men
and women, young and old alike from different
walks of life dared express their convictions,
hopes and desires as members of brave and
courageous Filipinos suffered injuries while
a host of others lost their lives before the
eyes of a weeping nation.
Joaquin “Chino” Roces, as journalist-publisher,
civic leader and concerned citizen stood his
ground and was a central figure in waging a
non-violent struggle as he together with
various cause-oriented groups and prominent
individuals took the cause of freedom and
justice directly to the people through the
‘parliament of the street’ which mostly
culminates in the bridge.
During his lifetime, ‘Chino’ was clear and
simple: government must listen to the people,
for a government is for the people and cannot
be used against the people.
It is in memory of this true patriot, passionate
lover of peace and democracy, architect of the
Filipino’s peaceful revolution that we dedicate
this bridge, naming it the
22
Joaquin “Chino” P. Roces
Tulay ng Kalayaan (Freedom Bridge)
From a thankful nation
The three monuments are resident static components of Mendiola rituals.
They, however, proved to be the only monuments acceptable to the cultural
canons of national and local governments. Sometime after the infamous
January 1987 ‘Mendiola Tragedy’ where nineteen peasant marchers were
killed, a request by the Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas’ to erect a
memorial stone for the victims was officially turned down. The memorial
stone was nevertheless cut and brought to the site during the first
anniversary of the Tragedy, and from thereon became a mobile shrine
transported to the site almost every January.
The inscription renaming Mendiola ‘Don Joaquin ‘Chino’ Roces Tulay ng
Kalayaan’ may have captured only fragments of evolving narratives. But it
was able to cite what the historic bridge primarily and more importantly
signifies for the community of resistance: of Mendiola as the site of an epic
struggle between ‘forces of oppression’ and ‘deprived people’, and the site
of countless acts of heroism, self-sacrifice and martyrdom. However, there
is more to Mendiola than the ascription written by the Chino Roces
Foundation, its author. Protest aassemblies in Mendiola are themselves
ritual performances that generate sanctified expressions elevating the
protest community’s regard for the place to a quasi-religious status. In the
actual protest rites that are held almost regularly in the bridge, the
sanctified expression [of Mendiola as representative of the divide between
the ‘forces of oppression’ and ‘deprived people’] transforms itself into
axioms of cosmological proportion (Rappaport, 1999: 313ff.). Through oral
discourse and visual representations in murals, effigies and plays, the
‘forces of oppression’ are depicted or played out as monsters or beasts,
salot (plagues), demonyo (demons), and beings of dreadful supranatural
qualities while the ‘deprived’ play the role of the forces of good, the
monster slayer, the heroes in a cosmic battle against primeval evil. Material
and historical forces have become ultimate postulates. What has been an
ordinary patch of concrete in the middle of a stale and grimy section of the
metropolis has become, in the struggle’s eschatological discourse, the
Meggido of two clashing cosmic forces, if not an oasis that quenches the
passions for the kalayaan (freedom) of a bayang nakikibaka (struggling
people). Political discourse, in other words, is transformed into a religious
discourse as pakikibaka rituals transport the Mendiola story into the realm
of cosmic drama.
C. The subversive pilgrim’s sacred space. To reiterate, the projection of
Martsa as ‘pilgrimage’ accentuates the religious character of a people’s
ongoing political quest for a radically new order. It takes off from both the
popular religious motif recurrent in Pakikibaka discourse and the
23
progressive religious’ theological re-reading of the politics of Struggle. While
it may connote equal reference to other sociopolitical groupings on a
‘pilgrimage’, the phraseology is meant more for a group of people on a
quest for a radically new and just world than the ones that find home and
satisfaction in the present. A subversive’s pilgrimage is then constituted on
the basis of a group’s commitment to leave the old world for the new one,
and thus, also refer to, or describe instances of social passages, conversion
experiences, or what de la Torre (1986) also phrases as, ‘class suicides’
involving activists of privileged class origins.
Mendiola sets itself apart from other traditional protest sites not only
because of its geographical proximity to the seat of power; or the challenge
and excitement of real confrontation with state authority that the site
always potentially presents. Mendiola is set apart by its lofty assignment in
the Struggle’s building hierarchy of sanctified expressions. A Mendiola
march or camp in, as it sounds from activists’ talakayang-buhay (sharing of
life story), is an exalted experience in their political pilgrimage, and in their
sustained, progressive quest for higher forms of struggle. Interviewees,
who were veterans of many ralis in various traditional protest sites, had all
mentioned Mendiola in difference to other sites that had been part of their
political formation. Interviewees tend to mass the other sites together in a
sweeping account but were very specific with events or their experiences
associated with Mendiola. The place has, over the decades from 1970,
evolved into a shrine, a sacred space in the paglalakbay/lakbayan
(journeys) of political pilgrims. Activists’ talakayang-buhay and stories
enshrined in individual and corporate memory [how the ordinary and
powerless defied the might of fascist dictatorship, Mendiola’s enduring
legacy; how lives were changed and nabinyagan (baptized) into newer
forms of struggle; how defeat in battle, death and martyrdom were
transformed into victories,] - now constitute the construals of pakikibaka
ritual discourse.
D. Mendiola as counter-symbolic space. Mendiola also sets itself apart from
an EDSA in terms of social/class significations and symbolism. While EDSA
as a space is associated more with intra-class politics, accommodation and
compromise (Bolasco, 1988: 66; Hedman and Sidel, 2000: 13-29), Mendiola
identifies itself more with the masa, the subordinate, subaltern groups and
their more radical politics of social reversal. The events that ended the fiveday people power revolt in January 2001 dramatise this class signification in
the sociopolitical divide. On the eve of January 20, the anti-Estrada coalition
was divided on the courses of action considered in view of the current
developments and negotiations with the embattled president Estrada. The
Leftist leaders were pushing for a siege of Malacanang ‘via Mendiola’ to
compel Estrada to leave earlier for fear that the phase out period being
negotiated by the president will be used to organize a counter-attack. The
Catholic bishops, civil society leaders and defectors from the beleaguered
Estrada regime on the one hand were unanimous in their decision for the
ongoing negotiations. In the early morning of Saturday, January 20, Fr.
24
Socrates Villegas, speaking for the latter group, made a last ditch effort to
sway the hundreds of thousand of people camping in and around the EDSA
shrine to stay and not join the march to Mendiola. The march to Mendiola
however pushed through, and an assortment of middle class groups joined
the determined masa and street veterans of the left along the way (Coronel,
2001: 19). At noontime the incumbent vice president Gloria MacapagalArroyo was sworn-in as president by the Chief Justice. Two hours later,
Estrada and his family were escorted out of Malacanang.
Beyond the issue of the choice between negotiation and confrontation,
between moderation and militance, or the issue on vested interests of
parties or groups within the anti-Estrada coalition is the issue of symbolic
control. The attempts of the Left to move people to Mendiola and the
resistance and efforts of Catholic leaders to ensure that the revolt will end
where it started five days earlier — at the EDSA shrine, also reveal an
undercurrent of symbolic contestation among the protagonists.
To the Left, the EDSA shrine is symbolic of the elite’s leadership and control
of the course of the revolt. Conversely, the political elite regarded an
exodus from the shrine towards Mendiola as yielding to the radical impulse
of masa and Leftist politics. EDSA shrine is where the social hierarchy is
preserved and reinforced despite occasional displays of effervescent antistructural mass demonstrations. Mendiola, in contrast, is where the
marginalized social and political groups find the space and the sanctuary
from which to militate against the establishment and its representative
hierarchy. Mendiola’s transformation into such a space also has something
to do with the fact that the protesters who frequent the site are those who
are deprived access to the halls of power and an adequate voice in media
thus, resorting to carving a space and establishing a parliament for
themselves outside the gates and barricades of the presidential palace.
Mendiola as a space therefore stands as a symbolic critique to the
transformist intra-class politics of the ruling class the EDSA shrine
symbolises. Its rituals seek out or connect with a new world order where
the mighty are not simply replaced by another, but one where the mighty
are brought down and the lowly are lifted up.
IV. SUMMARY
From the foregoing, the pakikibaka life-rite grounds itself in people’s
objective ritualisation. This ritualisation involves a process that radically
engages Filipinos in their indigenity and religiosity even as it opens itself to
a dissident and progressive vision of society. The subversive pilgrim
emerges from this hybridisation of religiosity and social vision, and of
politics and rituals. The rali, a composite, generic, and representative
expression of a wide range of pakikibaka politics highlights a discernible
ritual element that is under construction in a people’s movement. In its
dramaturgical reconstruction of the pakikibaka story , the rali lays down the
25
common ground for a people’s story and religion, or a point of meeting
between the Christian gospel and the issues of identity, justice and selfdetermination. The focus is however confined to Martsa and Mendiola, two
of the most representative forms or symbols of rali mobilizations. It is for
reasons that the two are fundamental in the shaping of the performative
and spatial structures of pakikibaka rite. Moreover, the language of time and
space that the Martsa and Mendiola embody are two of the foundational
and constitutive elements that make up the dynamic and static character of
the Christian liturgy and any public ritual, religious or civic, for that matter.
Finally, Martsa and Mendiola remain as a constructive base of a vast
superstructure of interpenetrating symbols. And with this ocean of images
and symbols, the two ritualize a story of a people’s process of becoming,
and of transforming a ‘this-worldly’ event into a liturgy of a people’s act of
collective self-transcendence. How to make sense of the foregoing in
theological and liturgical terms, in view of the dangers that lurks behind the
many notions of space and the spatial, is the burden of further, more critical
reflections.
Endnotes
1 A current example of this convergence is the formation of partylist groups
like Bayan Muna, Anakpawis, Gabriela, Migrante, Suara Bangsamoro
Akbayan and Partido Manggagawa among others from the ‘parliament of the
streets’, from the same ralis that also speak and perform for the politics of
all in the broad left. The partylist system was introduced in the 1987
Philippine Constitution. It was aimed at increasing the representation of
marginalized groups (sectoral parties, people’s organizations, political
parties, etc) to 20% in the 250-big lower house of the bicameral Philippine
Congress. The parties cited first participated in the 2001 national election
but characteristically retained their militancy and involvement in the
“parliament of the street” — where they first emerged as political players.
2 The Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas is a federation of peasant
organizations claiming, at the time of the tragedy, a membership of 750,000
from 51 affiliate organisations. In its words, the KMP “is a nationalist
movement that’s seeks to attain for the peasantry their democratic and
political rights; and a nationalist movement that seeks to end the plunder of
the economy by foreign capitalists and establish a truly democratic society
where the peasants will be free and prosperous.”
3 Lapiang Malaya was a fringe peasant-based millenarian sect led by an
obscure 86-year old peasant leader Valentin de los Santos who double acted
as a priest. The May 1967 Sunday march was calling for the resignation of
then President Marcos for his alleged consorting with foreign powers. Now
known as the “Black Sunday Massacre” the march turned violent and a
score of the peasant marchers were killed in cold blood. This was a
forgotten episode until its unearthing by the country’s historians ‘from
below’.
26
4 Turner calls the third stage “reaggregation”, when neophytes rejoin and
are initiated into their new powers or status in the community (Turner,
1969). But in the case of social change processes where the status quo is
rejected by the public, reaggregation is appropriated, following the same
ritual pattern, as ‘transformation’ (Alexander, 1991; Driver, 1998 ) - when
one assumes an identity and role subversive of the status quo.
5Sakbayan (sakay=ride + bayan=people) - lakbayan (lakad=walk +
bayan=people) combines marching and riding and involves traveling a
distance. This form of protest is usually employed during ‘welgang bayan’
(general or nationally-corrdinated strikes).
6 See Anonymous. Paghahatid sa Imortalidad. Op.Cit., Lines 1, 12, 13, 14,
15.
7 “Mendiola” was written by Bienvenido Lumbrera in 1970 in Manila. A
tribute to the martyrs of the Unang Sigwa (First Quarter Storm), the song is
one of the anthems of the protest movement. The song was musically
drawn from a popular Bicol kundiman. For the full text, see IPASA, Pag-ibig
sa Tinubuang Lupa: Mga Kanta ng Rebolusyong Pilipino, Manila: Centennial
Productions.
8 The use of “sanctified expressions”, an important concept in Rappaport’s
treatise on sanctification in ritual, might be arbitrary at this point, but the
concept would be pursued further as the paper seeks the ‘ultimate sacred
postulates’ in the rituals of pakikibaka.
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Elementary Forms of Social and
Moral Life. London: Sage Publications.
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Culture: Anthropological
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Foundation.
31
TEOLOHIYA NG BITUKA AT PAGKAIN
Tungo sa Teolohiyang Pumipiglas
By Melanio LaGuardia Aoanan
I. PANIMULA: DALAWANG KUWENTO NG BUHAY
Noong ako’y batang musmos, limang taong gulang, mayroon kaming kapit­
bahay sa Pangasinan na nakabaon sa kahirapan. Kadalasan, ang pamilyang
ito ay nangungutang o humihingi ng mga bagay sa amin tulad ng isang
chupang bigas, kunting asin, ilang palito ng posporo, dahon ng malunggay,
atbp. Palibhasa’y ang aking ina ay likas na maawain, lagi niyang
pinapaunlakan at tinutugunan ang pangangailangan ng pamilyang ito. Lagi
niyang sinasabi: “Basta’t mayroon tayo, magbigay!”
Isang umaga, ang padre de pamilya ay dumating. Siya’y nakatayo sa
harapan ng aming hagdan, namumula ang mga mata at galit na galit. Sa
kanyang baywang nakasabit ang nakakalubang itak. Narinig kong may
sinasabi sa aking Nanay. “Nana, kung matatagpuan ko lang ang Dios,
lulusubin ko’t aawayin siya!” Hanggang ngayon, ang kanyang mga pulang
mata na tanda ng matinding galit ay sariwa paring naka-ukit sa aking
isipan.
Isa pang kuwento. Noong Setiyembre 1990, habang ako’y nag-aaral sa
aking duktoral sa Ateneo de Manila, isa sa mga matagumpay kong
estudyante sa Silliman University ay nag-imbita sa akin ng “lunch date”.
Pinakain niya ako sa isang cozy restaurant sa Malate. Sa panahong iyon,
siya’y Associate Pastor ng Ellinwood-Malate Church. Pagkatapos naming
kumain, kami’y naglakad pabalik sa Ellinwood Church kung saan dumaan
kami sa Pedro Gil Street. Sa bangkita ng Pedro Gil, isang taong halos
hubad, madungis at nangangamoy, ang aming nakita. Siya’y kumakain ng
mga tirang pagkain na malamang ay pinulot niya sa basurahan. Hindi ko
masikmurang tingnan ang tao. Hindi ko matanggap na ang isang kapwa­
tao ay kumakain ng nararapat lamang sa baboy o aso!
Ano ang nararapat na tugon ng simbaan upang masugpo ang laganap na
problema ng mga taong namamalimos sa kalsada lalo na sa panahon ng
terce milenyo? Bahagi ba ng pagdiriwang ng ‘Jubilee’ na matulungan ang
mga taong nagdarahop at namamalimos? Mayroon bang makabuluhang
pagtugon ang mga simbahan sa umiigting na pagdarahop ng ating
nakararaming tao sa atying lipunan?
32
II. BALANGKAS NG ANALISIS: KARANASAN, WIKA AT KAMALAYANG
PILIPINO
Isa sa mahalagang aspeto ng ating pakikibaka ay ang pagmamahal sa ating
sariling wika, pagpapahalaga sa ating karanasan, kultura at kasaysayan.
Dito natin mabubuo at maitataguyod ang ating kamalayang Filipino. Ako ay
naniniwalang habang ginagamit natin ang wikang banyaga tayo ay
nananatiling nakagapos sa tanikala ng kamalayang dayuhan, nakakabit o
under de saya ng kolonyalistang kaisipan at kaalaman.
Nais kong ilarawan ang hugis ng pagkakaugnay ng karanasan, wika’t
kamalayang Filipino at ang proceso ng pagpapalaganap nito. Sa ganitong
paraan, matutuklasan kung gaano kayaman at kahalaga ang ating wika; at
sa ganito ding paraan makikita natin ang makulay, matingkad at mas
makabuluhang uri ng pakikibahagi sa lipunan. [Tingnan ang
pagsasalarawan sa sunod na pahina].
Sa pagmumuni-muni natin sa ating karanasan, mabubuo ang ating ISIP [o
kaisipan]. Likas sa ating pagkatao ang pagpapahiwatig ng ating iniisip kung
kaya’t kailangan nating ipahayag ito sa pamamagitan ng pangungusap
[USAP]. Habang ipinapahayag natin ang ating isipan sa pamamagitan ng
pangungusap, lalong tumitindi at tumitingkad ang ating damdamin [DAMA].
At dahil matindi ang ating damdamin, ito ang siyang nagtutulak upang
maisakatuparan [GAWA] ang isang bagay. Ang pagsasagawa ng isang
bagay ay nagbibigay daan upang muling magmumuni-muni at lalong
maging malalim o lalawak ang proceso at pagbubuo ng ating kaalaman,
kamulatan at kamalayan sa mga nagaganap sa ating kapaligiran. Mga
indibidwal o kolektibong aksyon ay maging daan ng malalim at patuloy na
refleksyon. Kung kaya’t ang proceso ay nagpapatuloy hanggang ang ating
kamalayan sa mga nagyayari sa kapaligiran ay lalong tumitindi. Naniniwala
ako na ang balangkas ng analisis na ito ay makapagpasulong sa ating
pagteteolohiya bilang mga Filipino at Asiano.
Karanasan, Wika at Kamalayang Filipino
Tungo sa Makabuluhang Buhay
33
Gayon pa man, bahagi tayo ng mayamang pamana ng kulturang pandaigdig
at hindi natin ito maaring ipagwalang-bahala. Kaya, may mga kataga sa
iba’t-ibang wikang dayuhan, hindi lamang sa Ingles, na mahirap isalin sa
wikang Filipino. Isa sa kalamangan sa paggamit ng wikang Filipino ay ligtas
ito sa problema ng kasarian [gender or sexist language] na sa ngayon ay
sentro ng pagtatalo sa mga grupo ng mga feminista.
Isa sa mahalagang pagpapasiyang eksistensyal para sa akin ay ang
pagpapatuloy ko sa progrmang duktoral at ang pasiyang sumulat ng
desertasyon sa wikang Filipino. Ito ay isang mapangahas na decisyon.
Kaakibat nito ay ang mithiing maipakita sa tanan na ang ating wika ay
maaring instrumento o daan sa masalimuot at matayog na proceso ng
kaisipan; ang ating wika ay may kakayahang mailantad o matarok ang mga
lilim at lapad ng intelektwal na proceso maging sa pilosopiya at teolohiya.
Matatag ang aking paninidindignan na bahagi ng ating tungkulin sa
pagteteolohiya ay ang paggamit ng ating wika’t idyomang Filipino. Ganito
rin ang panawagan ni Dr. Romeo L. del Rosario, kasalukuyang pangulo ng
Union Theological Seminary.4 Ito ay bahagi ng kabuuang pagpupunyagi na
makamtan natin ang makataong kalayaan.
Ang pagpapahalaga sa ating karanasan at wikang Filipino ay hindi dapat
kaligtaan. Huwag na nating ipaubaya na ang ating kaisipan ay manatiling
nakagapos sa tanikala ng kamalayang dayuhan. Ang wikang Ingles, ayon
kay Isagani Cruz, kilalang kritikong pampanitikan, ay balakid sa pag-unlad
ng literaturang Filipino: “Hinaharang kasi tayo mismo ng wikang Ingles.”5
Ang konsepto sa wikang Ingles, panapos na pahiwatig ni Cruz, “ay
nagdadala ng mapanlinlang na kamalayaan ng ating kolonyal na kahapon at
ang ating malakolonyal na kasalukuyan.”6
Ako ay naniniwala na habang patuloy ang pagteteolohiya natin sa wikang
Ingles, patuloy din ang ating pagkakagapos sa tanikala ng kolonyalistang
kaisipan at kamalayaan. Ang pagpapangahas na maka-alpas sa tanikala,
sabi ni Padre Albert Alejo, ay dapat isang “kolektibong pagnanasa ng isang
bayan upang tumayo sa sariling paa, . . .[isang] anyo ng pakikibaka, ang
pananatiling tapat sa sumpa sa kabila ng napakaraming hadlang, ang lahat
na ito ay bahagi ng hiwagang nakalulula na nagmula sa loob ng tao.”7
Buong-buo ang aking pagsang-ayon kay Padre Alejo na, bagamat siya’y
nanga-ngapa na tulad ko “sa paghahanap ng tamang salita,” ikinabibigat ng
kanyang loob ang madalas na mangyari: “. . . nakapalamuti lamang ang
ating mga katutubong kataga sa mga akdang sa Ingles nakasulat.”
Kahangahanga ang kanyang hangaring palayain ang ating wika. Ayon sa
kanya: “Sa tahimik na paraan, parang gusto kong tumulong upang palayain
ang ating mga kataga sa pananakal ng mga panaklong, sa pagkakaipit sa
mga panipi, sa latay ng mga italics at sa pagkakasangkapan sa salita bilang
katutubong pamagat sa makadayuhang pananaliksik o bilang mga daglat ng
mga kilusan o samahan na walang gamit sa salita kundi propaganda.” 8
34
III. ANG NAGBABAGONG LIPUNAN NGAYON: KONTEKSO NG
TEOLOHIYANG PUMIPIGLAS
Ating pansinin ang nagbabagong lipunang Filipino bilang konteksto sa
pagbubuo ng teolohiyang pumipiglas. Ang sinumang mangahas na
makisangkot sa pagbabago ng lipunan ay kailangang magkaroon ng
“kabuuang pananaw sa realidad” [wholistic view of reality] kung saan
makikita natin ang patuloy na kontradiksyon sa lipunang Filipino. Sa
pananaw na ito, dapat isa-alangalang ang mga magkakaugnay na sangkap
gaya ng: 1] Lupa’t Kapaligiran; 2] Populasyon; 3] Ekonomiya; 4] Pulitika; 5]
Sistima ng Kahalagahan at Paniniwala [values and belief system].9 Bigyan
natin ng maikling paliwanag ang bawat isa.
Lupa’t Kapaligiran. Ang ating bansa ay likas na kahali-halina gaya ng
isinasaad sa maka-antig damdaming awit, Bayan Ko:
At sa kanyang yumi at ganda
Dayuhan ay nahalina
Bayan ko, binihag ka
Nasadlak sa dusa.
Ibon mang may layang lumipad
Kulungin mo at pumipiglas
Bayan pa kayang sakdal dilag
Ang di-magnasang maka-alpas
Filipinas kong minumutya
Pugad ng luha ko’t dalita
Aking adhika, makita kang sakdal laya!10
Inihalintulad ni Jose Corazon de Jesus ang bayang Filipinas gaya ng isang
ibong nakakulong sa hawla: “Ibon man may layang lumipad/ Kulungin mo
at umiiyak.” Datapuwa’t noong sumiklab ang Sigwa ng Unang Quarto [First
Quarter Storm], hindi na angkop ang pasibong pakikibaka. Kaya, binago
ang titik na nagsasaad: “Ibon man may layang lumipad, kulungin mo at
pumipiglas!” Pagpasok ng dekada nobenta nagbadya ng lumalaganap at
tumitinding pagkasira ng kapaligiran. Binansagan ito na “decada ng
ekolohiya.”11 Ang patuloy na pagkasira ng kapaligiran, mga kabundukan,
kakahuyan, karagatan, mga ilog at iba pang likas-yaman ay nagbabanta ng
nakakikilabot na hinaharap. Ang kasindak-sindak na nangyari sa Ormoc City
ay isang halimbawa kung papaano ang kalikasa’y gumaganti sa
pagsasamantala sa kanya.
Ayon sa mapagpakumbabang pagtanggap ni Dr. Dioscoro L. Umali, isang
kilalang siyentipiko sa UP-Los Baños, sa laganap na kasakiman at
kapabayaan ng kanyang henerasyon ay siyang sanhi ng malawakang
35
pagkasira ng ating kapaligiran. Hinamon niya ang mga kabataan:
“Magpakabayani kayo, sapagkat hindi namin natupad ito, upang kayo ay
mabuhay. Humayo kayo’t pabaliking muli ang kasaganaan ng lupa!”12
Populasyon. Naging tampok at mainit ang usapin tungkol sa popu-lasyon
nitong nakaraang taon dahil sa International Conference on Population and
Development sa Cairo, Egypt. Naging kontrobersyal ang programa ng ating
gobiyerno dahil sa pagtuligsa ni Cardinal Sin at ng iba pang mataas na
opisyal ng Simbahang Katoliko. Gayon pa man, ito ang binigyan diin ni
Archbishop Leonardo Legaspi, O.P., sa kanyang panayam (lecture)
kamakailan sa International Congress on Bioethics. Tinuligsa niya ang
programa ng pamahalaan tungkol sa populasyoin at ang malagim na
kahihinatnan nito lalo na kung tuloy-tuloy ang pagdami ng populasyon sa
rate na 2.36 per cent.13 Totoong maselan ang isyung ito dahil ang maunlad
na bansa ay nangangailangan ng mabuting kalidad na populasyon.
Pang-Ekonomiya. Ang pagkassira ng kapaligiran ay bunga na rin ng
nagdagsahang pagdami ng populasyon at mababang kalidad ng buhay
pang-ekonomiya. Isang trahedya ng ating ekonomiya, ayon sa pananaliksik
ni Prof. Dennis Arroyo ng UP-Diliman, ay ang dambu-halang utang sa labas
[foreign debt] na sa ngayon ay humantong na sa mahigit na US$37
bilyones. Dahil dito, nawawalan ang gobiyerno ng pantustos sa mga
mahalagang serbisyo tulad ng edukasyon, kalusugan, at iba pang
serbisyong panlipunan. Ang lubhang masakit ay ang karamihan sa mga
utang ay nagpunta sa mga lihim o nakaw na yaman ni Marcos at ang
kanyang mga cronies.14
Sosyo-Pulitikal. Matapos ang diktaduryang regimen ni Mr. Marcos ang ating
bansa ay tila wala ng kakayahang makatupad sa pundamental na layunin ng
pamahalaan. Bagkus, nagyari na ang ilang mga simulain ng pamahalaan ay
naging daan ng kapahamakan ng mga mamamayan. Ang mga Filipino ay
mayaman sa karanasan ng pakikibaka laban sa mga mapanupil na
kapangyarihan mula pa sa pagsakop ng mga Kastila, ang mga Amerikano,
mga Hapunes, at maging ang rehimeng Marcos. Ang nangyri sa EDSA 1986
at 2001 kung saan lumaban ang mga mamamayan sa sukdulang kasamaan
ng pamahalaang Marcos at Estrada ay isang ginintuang pagkakataon upang
makamit ang tunay na pambansang kasarinlan. Ngunit ang mahalagang
pagbabago sa lipunan ay naaksaya. Hindi lubusang naisakatuparan ng
pamahalaang Aquino ang mga magagandang pagkakataon. Ayon sa
pagkakalarawan ni Edicio dela Torre, ang pamahalaang Aquino ay parang
“premature baby” na may napakalaking kanang kamay [militar] subalit
napakaliit ang kaliwang kamay.15 Dagdag pa dito, si Marcos at ang kanyang
mga cronies ay hindi naparusahan, bagkus sila’y nanumbalik sa
kapangyarihan lalo na sa administrasyon ni Erap Estrada.
Ngunit sa masusing pagsusuri, lumitaw na walang tunay na pagkakaiba ang
rehimeng Marcos sa gobiyerno ni Aquino, Estrada, at maging ang
kasalukuyang gobiyerno ni Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. Sa mga pamahalaang
36
ito, nangibabaw ang pagka-makasarili ng mga elitistang namumuno sa
gobiyerno. Isa pa, malakas pa rin ang pananakop at pakikialam ng Estados
Unidos sa ating ekonomiya, pulitika at kulturang pamumumuhay. Patuloy
ang paghihirap ng bansang Filipinas hangga’t hindi nalalansag ang tanikala
ng mga banyagang imperyalista na nagpapawalang saysay sa ating
suberenya at kasarinlan. Ang mga sangkap na ito ay mahalagang mabigyan
ng katuturan sa pagbuo ng teolohiyang pumipiglas.
IV. TATLONG DIMENSYON NG BUHAY: HAMON SA MISYON NG SIMBAHAN.
Ang pagganap ng tungkulin ng teolohiya dito sa Asia ay dapat isaalang­
alang ang kabuuan ng buhay. Kailangang isaalang-alang ng teolohiya ang
lahat na aspeto ng buhay sa kanyang kabuuan. Ang pagtugon sa
pangangailangan ng pagkain ay mahalaga sa buhay ng tao. Nakasalalay
ang buhay ng tao sa pagkakaroon ng pagkain. Kaya, ang hamon sa
pagkakaroon ng masaganang pagkain ay pundamental sa teolohiya at
misyon ng simbahan dito sa Asia. Ito’y dahil sa katotohanang si Jesu-Cristo
ay Panginoon hindi lamang ng simbahan kundi ng kasaysayan. Ayon sa
Banal na Kasulatan, si Cristo “ang buhay para sa sanlibutan” [Juan 14:6] at
“ang tinapay ng buhay na bumaba mula sa langit at ang sinumang kumain
ng tinapay na ito ay magkaroon ng buhay na walang hanggan” [Juan 6:4951].
Binigyan ng Ebangelio ni San Juan ang kahalagahan ng buhay o pagbibigay­
buhay na ginawa ng Panginoong Jesu-Cristo. Ang layunin ng pagkakasulat
ng Ebangelio “ay upang kayo’y sumampalataya kay Jesus, ang Mesias, ... at
sa gayo’y magkaroon kayo ng buhay sa pamamagitan niya” [Juan 20:31].
Sa pamamagitan ni Jesus ay naipahayag ang kalooban ng Dios: “upang
magbigay ng buhay at magkaroon ng kabuluhan at layunin ang buhay”
[Juan 5:40; 6:33; 10:10].
May tatlong salita sa wikang Griyego na hiniram at ginamit ng mga sumulat
ng Ebangelio at ng buong Bagong Tipan patungkol sa buhay: bios, psuche,
at zoe. Ang mga ito’y ginamit upang ipahiwatig ang tatlong dimensyon ng
pamumuhay. Ang unang antas ng buhay ay bios. Hinango dito ang salitang
biology. Ang buhay sa dimensyon ng bios ay siyang pinaka-ugat o
pinakapundasyon. Ipinapahiwatig nito ang antas na “pantawid-buhay,” na
ang ibig sabihin ay pawang sapat lang para mabuhay [a level of barely
survival existence]. Inilalarawan ito sa pamilyar na kataga: “isang kahig,
isang tuka!” Ngunit kalimitan, may maraming taong “kahig ng kahig, wala
pa ring matuka!” This means to say that human life has been so de­
humanized and de-meaned to the level of a beastly existence. Ito ang antas
ng pamumuhay ng taong nakita namin sa bangkita ng Pedro Gil Street na
kumakain ng galing sa basura. Siya, at ang libu-libong tulad niya sa mga
malalaking siyudad ng ating bansa, ay namumuhay ng isang makahayop na
pag-iral. Ito’y isang mapanganib na pag-iral. Ang mga tulad nila ay laging
nagigipit at kinakapus. Ganito rin ang antas ng buhay kung saan ang mga
37
bata at mga matatanda ay halos hindi makatawid at makaligtas sa bingit ng
kamatayan. Sila’y umaasa sa mga pagkaing karapat-dapat lamang para sa
mga baboy at aso!.
Ang buhay sa antas ng bios ay gaya halimbawa ng buhay ng isang “fetus” o
bagong iniluwal na sanggol. Ito’y umaasa lamang sa sustansiya na
nanggagaling sa kanyang ina. O kaya, tulad din ng sitwasyon ng mga
matatandang may sakit na nag-aagaw buhay, silang humantong sa
“vegetable stage” sa termino ng mga medico.
Isang kaisipan na umiiral sa ating makabagong panahon ay ang di-pagkilala
at di-paggawad ng respeto sa mga taong kulang pa ng kakayahang maging
ganap na tao. Ang buhay ng tao sa modernong kultura at panahon ay may
katangiang tinaguriang “cycle of production==>
consumption==>exploitation=>domination==>destruction syndrome.” Sa
antas ng bios-dimension, may panganib ang buhay ng tao dahil sa isang
kaisipan na hindi nagbibigay halaga sa buhay ng tao. Ito ay isang pananaw
na nagaalis sa kabanalan at dangal ng buhay, at ito’y labag sa kalooban ng
Diyos. Dahil dito, napakadaling magkaroon ng “salvaging” tulad sa mga
krimeng ginawa ni Mayor Antonio Sanchez ng Calauan, at ng mga pulis sa
pagpatay sa mga miembro ng Kuratong Baleleng. Sa mga pangyayaring ito,
hindi nila isinaalang-alang ang karapatang pantao.
Maliwanag na sa larangan ng psuche ay nangangahulugan ng higit pa sa
pag-iisip sa kabuhayan at kaligtasasn. Ito ay may kinalaman sa
panandaliang pangangailangan na may mababaw na katugunan. Tinutukoy
nito ang buhay na tigib ng pighati at pagkabalisa, buhay na puspos ng mga
kumplikadong suliranin gaya ng kakulangan sa pinansya, mahinang
pangangatawan, kalungkutan, kawalan ng kakayahan at pag-asa. Ito ang
dimension ng buhay na naghahangad ng ganap na pagkatao at dignidad,
nagnanais na maging kumpleto. Isang buhay na naghahangad na
magkaroon ng malayang pagpapasya at makahulugang pakikilahok sa mga
nagaganap sa lipunan. Sa Bagong Tipan maliwanag na ang buhay sa
dimensyon ng psuche ay naghahangad ng kabuuan at kaganapan, bagamat
hindi pa nito natatarok ang ganitong mithiin sa kasalukuyang panahon. Ang
mithiing ito ay ipinahayag ni San Juan: “Ang taong labis na nagpapahalaga
sa kanyang buhay [psuche] ay siyang mawawalan nito, ngunit ang
mapopoot sa kanyang psuche sa daigdig na ito ay magkakaroon ng buhay
[zoe] na walang hanggan.”
Ang buhay sa dimension ng zoe, ayon sa pag-unawa ni San Juan, ay buhay
na puno ng Espiritu sapagkat ito ay nasa ilalim ng kapangyarihan ng
Espiritu. Ito ay kumpleto, puspos ng kaganapan; isang buhay na
makahulugan at makabuluhan. Ito ang ibig sabihin ng Banal na Kasulatan
sa katagang “buhay na walang hanggan”. Ang buhay na ito ay bukas sa
kalooban at kapangyarihan ng Diyos sa pamamagitan ni Cristo. Ito ang
tinutukoy ni Jose de Mesa sa kanyang aklat na Kapag Namayani ang
Kalooban ng Diyos.16
38
Kung sa gayon, maliwanag na ang buhay sa dimensyon ng bios at psuche
ay magkakaroon ng buong kaganapan sa dimensyon ng zoe—”ang buhay
na siyang ilaw ng sankatauhan” [Jn. 1:4]. Kung paanong pinagkalooban ng
buhay [zoe] ng Ama ang mga patay, gayon din naman bubuhayin [o
pagkalooban ng zoe] ang sinumang nais niyang mabuhay” [Jn. 5:21]. “Ito
ang buhay [zoe] na lumipat mula sa kamatayan” [I Jn. 3:14]. Ang
paanyayang ito ni Jesus ay para sa lahat, lalo na sa lahat na nababagabag,
nababalisa, nabibigatan, dumaranas ng takot at walang direksyon sa
kanilang buhay. Ang zoe ay libreng kaloob at biyayang galing kay Jesus.
Datapuwat kinakailangan na magkaroon tayo ng matatag na pananam­
palataya, ganap na pananalig at lubos na pagtatalaga ng ating buhay sa
paglilingkod sa Diyos. Ang pagiging tagasunod ni Cristo ay
nangangahulugang pakikibahagi sa buhay at gawain niya dito sa sanlibutan.
“Sapagkat ang pagkaing bigay ng Diyos ay yaong bumababa mula sa langit
at nagbibigay buhay sa sanlibutan.” [Jn. 6:33].
Samakatuwid, hindi maaring mawala ang pangatlong antas ng buhay, ang
zoe-dimension. Ito ang tinutukoy sa Ebangelio ni San Juan na “walang
hanggang buhay.” Ito ang uri ng buhay na naayon sa kalooban ng Diyos,
buhay na puno ng diwang banal at ganap na nakatalaga sa kapangyarihan
at patnubay ng Banal na Espiritu. Kaya, ito’y makabuluhan at makahulugan.
Ganito ang buhay na ipinangako, ipinagkaloob, at isinabuhay ni Jesus dito
sa lupa. Ito ang buhay na naging “ilaw ng sanlibutan” [Jn. 1:4]. Ang buhay
sa antas ng zoe-dimension ay kusang kaloob ng Diyos sa tao sa
pamamagitan ni Jesu-Cristo. Makakamit natin ang kaloob na ito kung tayo’y
may matatag na pananalig sa Diyos. Kapag namayani ang kaloob na ito ng
Diyos sa ating buhay, handa tayong maglingkod sa Diyos, at gawin ang
nararapat sa kapwa at sa lahat na nilikha ng Diyos. Samakatuwid, tayo ay
kabahagi sa buhay at ministerio ni Jesus, sa gawain ng simbahan na siyang
katawan ni Cristo.
V. PAKIKIBAHAGI SA KATAWAN NI CRISTO: ANG TEOLOHIYA NG BITUKA
AT PAGKAIN.
Sa Bagong Tipan, ang pinaka-sentrong konsepto tungkol sa simbahan ay
ang “katawan ni Cristo”. Sa kaisipang Filipino ito ay may kongkreto at
malarawang kahulugan. Ang wika, pananalita’t kamalayan ng Filipino ay
tiyak na mas dinamiko, kongkreto at malarawan kung ihahambing ito sa
kaisipan ng mga taga kanluran. Halimbawa, ang taong walang hiya ay
makapal ang mukha; ang taong walang paninindigan ay walang bayag!
Sa wikang Filipino [lalo na ang Ilokano, Pangasinan, Bikol, Bisaya, at
Tagalog], ang mga konsepto ay tuwirang kongkreto at umiikot ito sa mga
bahagi ng katawan.17 Walang ganitong pananaw sa kanluraning kaisipan:
ang katagang “brother/sister” ay talagang abstrakto. Kapag isinalin ito sa
wikang Filipino [tulad sa Bisaya/Ilokano/Tagalog] nagiging kongkreto at
39
naka-ugnay sa bahagi ng katawan: igsoon, kabsat, kapatid. Ang mga
salitang ito ay may kahulugang pang-relasyon. Sa literal na kahulugan, ang
kapatid ay isang kontraksyon ng “patid ng bituka” [Bisaya: igsumpay sa
tinai, Ilokano: kapugsat iti bagis]; someone who is “cut off from my
intestine”. Samakatuwid, ang mga magkakapatid ay nagmula sa iisang
bituka. Ito’y nangangahulugan na mayroon silang malapit [intimate] at
matatag [firm] na buklod, at ugnayan.
Batay sa linggwistikong pagsusuri, lumalabas na ang pinakamahalagang
bahagi ng ating katawan ay ang bituka. Ang bituka ay pinakasentro sa ating
pag-iral at pagkatao. Ito ang dahilan na kung mayroong nasugatan, bata
man o matanda, lagi nating maririnig ang katagang “huwag kang mabahala,
malayo yan sa bituka”! [“No need to worry, the wound is far from the
intestine”]! Kaya, sa mga Filipino, iba talaga ang may malapit at matatag
na pinagsamahan dahil magkakadugtong ang bituka.
Batay naman sa penomenolohiya sa ugaling Filipino, kapag tayo’y dumalaw
sa bahay ng kaibigan o kamag-anak, ang unang tanong sa atin ay: “O,
kumain ka na ba?” Sa mga taga-kanluran, ang tanong ay: “How are you?”
At kahit inabutan mo sila sa panahon ng kainan, hindi ka nila aanyayahang
makisalo sa kanila. Isa sa mga pinakamasayang karanasan ko bilang isang
pastor sa barrio ay iyong ipaghain ng pagkain basta nagbibisita sa mga
miembro. Dahil konti ang mga bahay sa barrio, natatanaw na nila ako kahit
malayo pa. Madalas kong marinig, kahit may kalayuan pa, ang mga
katagang: “Maglung-ag na kamo kay naa na si Pastor!” [“Magsaing na’t
dumarating na si Pastor”].
Isa pang mabuting ugali ng mga Filipino ay ang padigo. Kung ikaw ay
nakapagluto ng masarap na putahe, mayroon kang ibabahagi sa iyong
kapit-bahay. Para sa akin, ito ay pagpapatunay at simbolo na
magkadugtong nga ang ating mga bituka: kaya ang masarap na pagkain na
ipapasok ko sa aking bibig na bababa sa aking bituka, ay papasok din sa
inyong mga bibig at pupunta sa inyong mga bituka!
Ano ang mga implikasyon ng mga kultura at ugaling Filipino sa pagbubuo
ng teolohiyang likas sa Filipino? Anong kaugnayan ng kaalaman at praktis
sa kulturang Filipino kung iuugnay ito sa paniniwalang ang simbahan ay
katawan ni Cristo? Ito ay nangangahulugan na ang lahat ng mga kasapi ng
simbahan ay magkakapatid kay Cristo at mayroong iisang bituka kay Cristo.
Kaya, kung pinapahalagahan ang “incarnational theology”, dapat ding
itaguyod at pahalagahan ang “intestinal theology”— ang teolohiya ng
pagkain at bituka!
Isang simple ngunit malalim na katotohanan sa buhay ng mga
magkakapatid ay kung ano ang ipinapasok nila sa kanilang bituka. Ang
bituka at ang pagkain ay laging magkaugnay— upang ang tao’y mabuhay.
Kaya, may katotohanan sa sinasabing: Ang kinakain ng isang tao ay siyang
nagsasaad ng kanyang pagkatao. Ang kalidad ng pagkain na ating kinakain
40
ang siyang sukatan ng kalidad ng ating buhay. Kaya, naala-ala ko ang awit
na itinuro sa grade school: “O people of the mountain, what kind of food do
you eat?” Ano nga, talaga, ang uri ng pagkain na ating kinakain?
Ang teolohiya ng bituka at pagkain ay nakabatay sa pilosopikal na dictum:
“Comedo Ergo Sum.” “Ako’y kumakain, samakatuwid ako’y umiiral.” [“I
eat, therefore, I am.”]. Kaya, hindi dapat pagtakhan ang tagumpay ni Mrs.
Corazon Aquino, isang housewife lamang, laban kay Mr. Marcos, noong
1986 Snap Presidential Election. Isa sa mga dahilan ng kanyang tagumpay
ay ang hamak na isdang galunggong, simbolo ng pagkain ng mga milyun­
milyong Filipino, dahil ito lamang ang abot ng kanilang kakayahan.
Noong 1990, isang aklat ang inilathala, Lasa: A Guide to Eating Out in the
Provinces, nila Doreen Fernandez at Edgardo N. Alegre.18 Ayon sa kanilang
puna “food is the most concrete definition of what or who the Filipino is.”
Dagdag pa, pinuna nila ang ating kultura, kung saan ang pakiramdaman
[sensing the feelings of others] sa halip na harapang konfrontasyon,
lumilitaw na sa pamamagitan ng pagkain nakapagpapahayag ng tunay na
damdamin, hangarin at niloloob ang Filipino. Ito ang pangunahing tesis ng
aklat. Sa pagbabasa ng aklat na ito, malalasahan ang pira-pirasong
katangian o karakter ng Filipino [“morsels of Filipino character”].
May tatlong mahalagang kaalaman mula sa aklat na ito. Una, ang Filipino
daw ay kumakain ng kahit ano: aso, pusa, palaka, ahas, beetles,
earthworms, crocodiles, etc. Pangalawa, ang dietary habit ng Filipino ay
siyang nagpapasya o nagtatakda ng panahon: kaya ang panahon ng
pagkain ay agahan [breakfast], tanghalian [lunch], at hapunan [supper].
Pangatlo, tulad ng pagkain, ang ugaling moral ng Filipino ay flexible or
adjustable. The Filipino eats, or acts, depending on the situation. The
Filipino’s manner of food consumption depends on the circumstance: in
times of abundant harvest, there is feasting; but in times of famine, the
Filipino learns to eat austerely. May kasibihang: “Kung maikli ang kumot,
matutong mamaluktot.” Gayon pa man, ang pagsasalu-salo sa hapag­
kainan ay mahalagang praktis ng mga Filipino.
Batay sa pananaw ng teolohiyang Filipino, ang pagkahati-hati ng mga tao,
ang pagkakaroon ng iba’t ibang uri, mayaman at mahirap, ay isang
paglabag sa tunay na pagkakapatiran. Dahil dito, ang simbahan ay
mayroong malaking papel: dapat maging tulay upang mapalapit ang
lumalaking hidwaan sa lipunan. Sabi ng Panginoong Jesus: “Ang pagkaing
bumababa mula sa langit ay nagbibigay buhay sa sanlibutan.” [Jn. 6:33]. Si
Jesus ang pagkaing bumaba mula sa langit, ang tinapay ng buhay. Ang
lahat bilang bahagi ng simbahan, ang katawan ni Cristo, ay dapat
nagkakaisa, nagsasama-sama at nagsasalo sa hapag-kainan, bawat isa ay
nakikibahagi sa katawan at dugo ni Cristo. Ito ang pangunahing simbolo at
misteryo ng ating pananampalatayang Kristiyano.
41
VI. BATAYANG BIBLIKAL NG TEOLOHIYA NG BITUKA.
Isa sa ma-intrigang pangyayari sa Lumang Tipan ay kong papaano dinaya ni
Jacob si Isau ng dalawang beses. Una, naipagbili ni Isau ang kanyang
birthright [Gen. 25:28-33]. Pangalawa, ninakaw ni Jacob ang rightful
blessing [Gen. 27:1-45]. Kaugnay sa dalawang pang-yayari ay ang
kahalagahan ng pagkain. Makikita din natin ang pagsa-samantala sa
kahinaan ng isang tao. Kalunos-lunos na isipin ang pagsasamantala ng
mag-ina [si Jacob at si Rebecca] laban kay Isaac na halos bulag at malapit
ng mamatay. Gayon pa man, ang pandaraya ay sa pamamagitan ng paghain
ng masarap na pagkain bilang pagpa-paunlak sa huling kahilingan ni Isaac
bago siya mamatay. [Gen. 27:1-45].
Sa Bagong Tipan, ang pagsasalo-salo sa hapagkainan ay mahalagang
bahagi sa ministerio ni Jesus. Bago siya namatay, nagpahayag siya ng
masidhing pagnanasang makisalo sa kanyang mga alagad [Lk.22:15-16].
Magugunita natin na sa pagsimula ng kanyang ministeryo, itinaya niya ang
kanyang reputasyon at karangalan dahil sa pakiki-salo at pakikisama sa
mga makasalanan. Dahil dito, pinaratangan siyang “matakaw at
maglalasing, kaibigan ng mga publikano at mga maka-salanan” [Mt. 11:19].
Ang pagpapakain sa Limang Libo ay naisulat ng tatlong Synoptic Gospels,
“Nang dapit-hapon na’y lumapit sa kanya ang mga alagad. Sinabi nila:
‘Ilang ang pook na ito at malapit nang lumubog ang araw. Papuntahin na po
ninyo sa mga nayon ang mga tao upang makabili ng kanilang makakain.’
Sinabi ni Jesus: ‘Hindi na sila kailangang umalis pa. Kayo ang magbigay sa
kanila ng makakain.’” [Matt 14:16]. Matapos siyang muling mabuhay, si
Jesus ay nagpakita at nakipagsalo sa hapag-kainan kasama ang kanyang
mga alagad.
Sa ganitong konteksto, ipinahayag niya ang kanyang kapangyarihan.
Halimbawa, nakilala siya ng dalawang alagad na naglakbay tungo sa
Emmaus habang siya’y sumama sa kanila. “Nang siya’y kasalo na nila sa
hapag, dumampot siya ng tinapay at nagpasalamat sa Diyos, saka
pinaghati-hati at ibinigay sa kanila. Nabuksan ang kanilang paningin at
nakilala nila si Jesus...“ [Lk. 24: 28-31]. Ang pangatlong pagpapakita niya
sa baybayin ng Tiberias ay sa pamamagitan ng kanyang anyaya sa mga
alagad upang mag-agahan [Jn 21:12-14]. Matapos silang kumain, hinarap
niya si Pedro at tinanong siya ng tatlong beses: “Simon, anak ni Juan,
iniibig mo ba ako ng higit kaysa sa mga ito?.... Pakanin mo ang aking mga
tupa” [Jn 21: 15-17].
Habang ang simbahan ay lumaganap at lumawak ang pananaw ng mga
kasapi nito, si Pedro mismo ang nagkaroon ng pagbabagong-isip. Sa
pamamagitan ng isang pangitain sa tanghaling tapat, nakita niya ang
parang isang malaking kumot na may lamang lahat na uri ng hayop. Dahil
siya’y gutom na gutom, narinig niya ang isang tinig: “Magpatay ka’t
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kumain.... Huwag mong ituring na marumi ang nilinis ng Diyos” [Mga Gawa
10: 9-15].
Ang mga piling teksto sa Kasulatan ay nagbibigay ng tiyak na patotoo
hinggil sa kahalagahan ng pagkain sa mapagpalayang gawa ng Diyos sa
kasaysayan. Ang pagkain ay isa sa tatlong mahahalagang bagay na
nagbibigay ng kabuluhan sa buhay ng tao. Ang dalawa ay ang pana­
nampalataya at kalayaan.
VII. KONGKLUSYON.
Balikan natin ang unang istorya sa introduksyion. Ang nagliliyab na poot ng
padre de pamilya sa Pangasinan ay dahilan sa kawalan ng pagkain para sa
kanyang mga anak. Wala siyang maihain sa kanyang mga gutom at umiiyak
ng mga supling. “Kung alam ko ang tirahan ng Diyos, pupuntahan ko siya’t
aawayin!” Ang mga katagang ito ay mabibigkas lamang ng isang taong salat
hindi lamang sa pagkain kundi taong nawalan na ng pag-asa.
Sa pananaw ng isang batang musmos, batang nahubog sa pamilyang may
takot sa Diyos, ang mga katagang iyon ay talagang kasindak-sindak: mga
salitang mapaglapas-tangan! Parang ninais kong ipagtanggol ang Diyos sa
kamay ng masamang tao. Ito ang pumasok sa aking isipan, palibhasa ako’y
wala pang kamuwang-muwang sa mundo.
Datapuwat sa pagbabalik-tanaw, ang namumulang mukha na tanda ng
matinding galit ng padre de pamilya ay malinaw paring naka-ukit sa aking
kaisipan. Manapa’y ang mga salitang iyon ay nagsilbing simula ng malalim
na pag-unawa sa teolohikal na realidad na aking nakasagupa. Sa loob ng
mahigit na apatnapung taon mula noon, at sa tulong ng kaalaman tungkol
sa psychology of human suffering as well as the Gospels’ preferential option
for the poor, masasabi ko na ang nag-aapoy na galit ng taong iyon ang
siyang kauna-unahang aral sa aking pang-unawa sa pakikibaka upang
makamit ang tunay na kabanalan. Kaya, kinikilala ko ito na bahagi ng isang
significant revelatory event sa aking buhay bilang isang pastor at propesor
ng teolohiya.
Sinabi ni Jesus, “Ako ang pagkaing nagbibigay-buhay na bumaba mula sa
langit. Mabubuhay magpakailan man ang sinumang kumain nito. At ang
pagkaing ibibigay ko sa ikabubuhay ng sanlibutan ay ang aking laman” [Jn
6: 51]. Bilang kasapi sa simbahan, tayo ay bahagi ng katawan ni Cristo.
Ang ating mga bituka ay magkaka-ugnay at magkaka-dugtong sapagkat
tayo’y nakikibahagi sa iisang pagkain: ang katawan ni Cristo.
Dahil dito, mayroon tayong natatangi at matatag na pagkakapatiran
[sisterhood/ brotherhood] sa isa’t-isa. Ating ipinagdiriwang ang pagkakaisa
at pakikibahagi sa katawan ni Cristo sa tuwing ginaganap natin ang Banal
na Hapunan. Ito ang mahalagang simbolo at hiwaga ng ating
43
pananampalatayang Kristiyano. Dagdag pa, ang prominenteng simbolo sa
turo ni Jesus tungkol sa kaharian ng Diyos ay ang palagiang piging sa
kasalan kung saan ang mga tao ay masaya at nagkakaisang nagsasalo-salo
[Matt 22: 1-10; Lk 14: 15-24]. Hindi ba’t ito ang katuparan at kaganapan
ng ating mga mithi tungo sa kapayapaan at kasaganaan, katarungan at
pagkapantay-pantay ng lahat ng mga tao anuman ang kanilang lahi,
kasarian, sosyo-ekonomikong katatayuan!
Bilang panapos, nais kong gawing halimbawa ang makabuluhang tula ni
Cirilo F. Bautista na pinamagatang “Pananangis ng Huling Tao sa Daigdig”:
Pagkatapos ng anim na aklat ng tula na pinuri hanggang
langit [ha!]
Isang kahig, isang tuka pa rin siya, isang gulanit
Na multo na pasilip-silip sa mamahaling restawran,
Hungkag ang bituka at hilo ang isipan
Upang gumapang pauwi sa barong-barong at doon palipasin
Ang pait ng kadiliman. Ay Cirilo ng Balic-balic!
Sampay-bakod ng panitikang di pinapansin!19
Ang mukhang ito ng karukhaan na inilarawan ni Cirilo F. Bautista ay
nagpapatunay sa patuloy na kontradiksyon sa lipunang Pilipino. Ang mga
manggagawa, magsasaka, guro’t namamasukan sa opisina, ay sumasahod
ng ubod ng baba. Mabuti pa ang mga basketbolista ng PBA at mga artista,
sila’y kumikita ng milyun-milyon. Sunod lahat ang kanilang luho at
karangyaan. Sa kanyang pagsusumikap at pagpupunyaging matalastas ang
ugat ng problema at maipahayag ito, tinukoy ni Cirilo Bautista, tulad ng
Propeta Ezekiel, na hindi pinakinggan ang kanyang tinig, bagkus gaya ng
isang ibong kanyang “pinalipad tungo sa sambayanang puso” ay “inabangan
ng mga palalo, pinaulanan ng sibat, at nang bumagsak, tinapakan
hanggang magkaluray-luray.”
Tulad ng milyun-milyong Filipino, pinilit ng tauhan sa tula na mangibang­
bansa upang makalimot “sa dusa’t pagkabigo” ngunit doon hindi pa rin
nakadama ng katahi-mikan. Hindi nalimutan na “ang kanyang puso,
sugatan, pumipiglas / laban sa gayuma ng salapi...” Walang magagawa ang
tao kundi magpalabas ng malakas na buntong hininga:
“Ay Filipinas na walang katapusang hikahos!
Filipinas ng mga pangakong di natubos!
Habang siya’y lumilipad lampas dagat, lampas bundok.
Asin ang bumalot sa kanyang sugat, nagpahapdi
Ang kanyang utak, lumikha ng isang huling tula
Sa langit bago sumirok sa bughaw na tubig at nawala.”
Ang pagpupunyagi ng taong matamo ang makataong pamumuhay ay
humantong sa kamatayan: “...nakitang palutanglutang ang kanyang
katawan sa karagatang Pasipiko...” Ang kanyang huling kahilingan ay:
44
“Lupa, bigyan mo ng init ang kanyang buto.” Hari nawa na gaya ni
Propetang Ezekiel, magkaroon ng kakaibang bisa ang pagpapatalastas
upang ang mga “tuyong buto,” labi ng marahas na pakikibaka sa
kasaysayan ay magkaroong muli ng panibagong buhay at magbigay diwa’t
lakas sa pagbubuo ng teolohiyang pumipiglas!
Ang pagbubuo ng teolohiyang Filipino, lalo na tayong kabahagi ng
Evangelikong tradisyon, ay humantong na sa akmang panahon. Huwag na
nating ipagpatuloy ang pagkakagapos ng ating kamalayan sa kaisipang
dayuhan. Sama-sama tayong pumiglas sa tanikala ng koloniyalistang
kultura at karanasan. Tuklasin, pahalagahan at itaguyod ang mga katagang
teolohikal na likha sa ating kultura at karanasang Filipino. Masagana tayo
sa “hidden treasures” na nakabaon sa ating mga bakuran. Ang mga ito ay
bahagi ng ating wika, idyoma at kultura. Ito ang mga mahalagang sangkap
sa paghahanda ng masarap na putahe ng teolohiyang Filipino — ang
teolohiya ng pagkain at bituka!
REFERENCES
Alejo, Albert E. S.J., TAO PO! TULOY! Isang Landas ng Pag-unawa sa Loob
ng Tao. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University, 1991.
Baustista, Cirilo F. “Pananangis ng Huling Tao sa Daigdig,” Philippine Graphic
Magazine, February 11, 1991.
Bennagen, Poncinao. “Cultural Analysis for Social Transformation,” United
Church Letter, XXXII, 1988.
Cruz, Isagani R. “Teoriya at Wika: Kung Bakit Malabo Ang Ingles Pero Hindi
Dapat Malabo Ang Ating Paningin,” PANTAS: A Journal of Higher
Education, Vol. III, No. 1 [November 1989].
De Mesa, Jose. Kapag Namayani Ang Kalooban Ng Diyos. Quezon City:
Claretian Publications, 1990.
Fernandez, Doreen & Alegre, Edgardo N. LASA: A Guide to Eating Out in the
Provinces. Manila: National Book Store, 1990.
Philippine Daily Inquirer, December 6, 2005.
Rosario, Romeo L. del, “What is the Place of the Indigenous Language in
Contextualization?” in Papers and Presentations from the Congress of
Asian Theologians. Feliciano V. Carino, ed., CCA Bulletin Vol. XV, No. 1
(June 1998), pp. 150-153.
Schwenck, Robert L. Riding the Third Wave into the Third Millenium. Manila:
Philippine Christian University SEED Center, 1991.
45
Sunday Inquirer Magazine, November 11, 1990.
Torre, Edicio dela. “Toward A Just Reconciliation: The Philippines’ PostMarcos Challenge,” Sojourner Magazine, September 1986.
TOWARD THE MAKING OF FILIPINO
INTESTINAL THEOLOGY
English version of Tagalog Essay
By Melanio LaGuardia Aoanan
I. TWO INTRODUCTORY STORIES
When I was a young lad of five, there was a poor family in our neighborhood
in northern Philippines. Often, the padre de pamilya came to our house to
borrow or ask for a chupa of rice, a pinch of salt, a few match sticks, some
stalks of kalamunggay leaves, etc. My mother, being a compassionate, caring,
and generous, would always share something in response to the need of this
poor family. Fortunately, there was always something to share from our house
to this poor family.
But one early morning the father came and stood in front of our house. He
was very mad—burning with rage. With a bolo tacked on his waist, he told my
mother: “Nana, If only I know where God is to be found, I’ll go to him and
quarrel with him.” The red face and the fiery look from the man’s eyes are still
vividly etched into the screen of my consciousness until now.
One more story. In September of 1990, a former successful student of mine at
Silliman University treated me for lunch in a cozy eating place [Mid Town
Ramada Hotel]. At that time, he was one of the Pastors at Ellinwood-Malate
Church, the biggest UCCP churches in Manila. [Unfortunately, this Pastor died
suddenly on December 20, 1990].
After our sumptuous meal, we walked back to the church passing through
Pedro Gil Street, which is lined up with cheap Chinese food stalls. On this
street, we passed by a man, very filthy, foul-smelling, squatting on the
pavement. He was eating something which obviously came from the garbage
box nearby. To me, it was a terrible sight. I felt revolted and I could hardly
look at the man — a human being eating something that is fit only for the
dogs!
II. LINGUISTIC ANALYSIS AND PHENOMENOLOGY OF BEHAVIOR:
METHODOLOGICAL FRAMEWORK
46
Part of the important theological task in the Philippines is to articulate theology
with the use of Filipino language, cultural, and idioms. This is an integral part
of our struggle for human liberation. Giving importance to our historical
experience, culture and language, is becoming more and more a must for
Filipino theological articulators. It is through the promotion and utilization of
our language that we could shape and develop the emerging Filipino
consciousness. I am convinced that as long as we continue to make use
solely of the English language in our theological articulation, we would continue
to be under the skirt of Western colonialism and forever be chained to a
colonial consciousness.
Allow me to present a graphic scheme on how Filipino consciousness, or any
nationality for that matter, is shaped through the reflection on our historical
experience and the use of our Filipino language. Here we will realize how rich,
how distinct, how vivid and colorful is the Filipino language and idiomatic
expressions. Our language and consciousness are potent tools in the shaping
and the transforming of our society. [See the illustration below]
In reflecting on our historical experience, we are able to form our consciousness/
thought/understanding [ISIP]. Inherent in our being human is the need to
communicate our thought through language [USAP]. The more we communicate
through our native language, our feeling [DAMA] becomes intensified,
deepened, sharpened. And because of deepened feeling and willing, we can
actualize or put into practice some things [GAWA]. Individual as well as
collective actions of people lead to a deeper and continuous reflection. Thus
the process is repeated on an on, until our consciousness or awareness about
realities around us become more intense. I submit that this frame-work of
analysis [developed and articulated in Filipino language] could enhance our
doing of theology in an authentic Asian way.
Experience, Language, and Filipino Thought
Toward a Meaningful Life
Doing theology the Asian way must take seriously the whole gamut and matrix
of life—human and other forms of life. Central to the matrix of life, the
47
continuance and sustenance of life, is food. The availability of food, or lack of
it, becomes crucial, central challenge for the church in its theological and
missiological witness throughout all of Asia. Jesus Christ, the Lord of the Church
as well as of history, is not only the “life of the world” [Jn. 14:6] but is the
bread of life which comes from heaven [and] anyone who eats this bread lives
forever...” [Jn. 6:48-51].
The Gospel of John was written for the purpose that people may believe that
Jesus Christ “is the Son of the living God, and that believing [they] may have
life in his name” [Jn. 20:31].
In the original Greek language, there are three words used which refer to life:
BIOS, PSUCHE, and ZOE. In my simple under-standing, these words could be
used to describe the three levels or dimensions of life. Our present situation
indicates that the life of the vast majority of peoples in Asia is in the precarious
bios-dimension. This means to say that human life has been dehumanized
and demeaned to the level of beastly existence. This level of life that is barely
surviving or subsisting, which the Filipino idiomatic expression describes as
isang kahig, isang tuka existence. Literally, like a hen scratching the ground:
each scratch is followed by a pick. It is that kind of life lived by the man we
saw squatting in the pavement of Pedro Gil Street in Malate, Manila. That man
embodies a beastly existence. And he represents countless people, including
innocent children and aging adults in Asia, subsisting and eating food fit only
for the pigs!
Human life in our time is characterized by “the cycle of production==>
consumption ==>competition==>exploitation==>domination syndrome. It
is a kind of life that has been reduced to a beastly existence. Human life
particularly in the bios-dimension is threatened by an insidious and pervasive
philosophy. It is a philosophy which advocates the notion that without the
requisite conditions, life is not accorded with sanctity and infinite worth that
God intends human life to be. Because of this, it becomes so easy to “salvage”
[extra-judicial killing] or murder a person because of political and ideological
convenience. In like manner, it is so easy to abort the fruit of an ill-timed
intimate relationship between a man and a woman because it is devoid of
commitment and responsibility.
Let us look at the second level of life, the psuche-dimension. Psuche is the
root of the word “psychology” or “psyche”. In all the three Synoptic Gospels
[Matthew, Mark and Luke], almost every reference to life is psuche. For instance,
“Whoever wants to save her/his psuche, will lose it, whoever losses her/his
psuche for me and for the Gospel will save it. What good is it for a person to
gain the whole world, yet forfeit her/his psuche”[Mk. 8:35-36]. Therefore, I
tell you, do not worry about your psuche, what you will eat or drink, ... I not
psuche more than food?” [Mt. 6:25; Lk. 12:22f.]
From the perspective of the Synoptic Gospels, the psuche-dimension of life
transcends the mere survival or subsistent level of life. Therefore, it is more
48
advanced than the bios-dimension. It is a dimension of life that aspires to
realize or satisfy what Abraham Maslow calls “the hierarchy of needs”.
Nevertheless, it is a dimen-sion of life is still full of worries and anxieties. It
worries not only about basic necessities such as food, clothing shelter; it also
concerns itself with socio-economic, political and psychological satisfaction.
It is very clear that the psuche -dimension of life revolves around the
preservation of self-interests, selfish aspirations, and the actualization of one’s
egoistic agenda. It is pre-occupied with how one could out-shine, out-smart,
and out-maneuver our fellow human beings. Because of this, there is always
a deep-seated desire to equal if not surpass others. That is why isip talangka
[“crab mentality”] dominates our personal and social relationship.
And because of the limitations of what we can do, many a time we could not
accomplish what we want to accomplish; we cannot actualize most of our
intentions. Thus, worries and anxieties beset our life. We are faced with complex
and complicated problems such as lack of finances, physical and psychological
handicaps, lack of health, etc. Thus we become not only helpless but hopeless.
This is the psuche-dimension of life with all its stark realities and problems
which all of us share and experience. It is the dimension of life that is often
vulnerable, violated and victimized.
According to the Synoptic Gospels, life in the psuche-dimension is not capable
of fully realizing and fulfilling the higher longings and aspirations of life.
Therefore, the third dimension of life is necessary. This is the zoe-dimension.
This is the dimension that is spoken in the Gospel of John. It is the life that is
definitely in accordance and consistent with the will of God. It is a spirit-filled
life because it is a life submitted to the power and guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Therefore, it is a purposeful and meaningful life. This is the life promised,
offered, demonstrated and exemplified by Jesus here on earth. In other words,
it is the life eternal; the life that became, and still is, the light of the world [Jn.
1:4].
The zoe-dimension of life is God’s free gift through Jesus Christ. But we can
claim this gift only through our firm faith in God. Acceptance of this free gift of
life enables us to offer ourselves in steadfast commitment to serve God, and
seek the welfare of our fellow human beings and the rest of God’s creation.
This means sharing in the life and ministry of Jesus Christ through the Church,
which is the “body of Christ.” “For the bread of God is that which... gives life to
the world” [Jn. 6:33].
III. TOWARDS AN INTESTINAL THEOLOGY: SHARING IN THE BODY OF
CHRIST.
In the New Testament, the central concept or image of the Church is that of
the “body of Christ.” Picturing the Church as the body of Christ is really significant
especially in the thinking and under-standing of the Filipinos. Filipino language
49
and consciousness is definitely more dynamic, concrete and picturesque if
compared with western thought. And most of our key concepts are connected
or intertwined with the parts of the human body. For instance, a person who is
without shame is makapal ang mukha [‘thick-faced”]. In western thought, the
concept of brotherhood/ sisterhood is somewhat abstract. But in the Filipino
language, the words kapatid/igsoon/kabsat [Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilokano, respec­
tively for brother/sister] connote a concrete relational meaning. Literally, a
brother or a sister is “cut- off from my intestine.” In other words, brothers and
sisters came from the same intestine; they have one and the same intestine.
Therefore, it follows that they have a very strong linkage, or connection, or
relationship. Our being a relative with one another is defined or determined
by the fact that we have only one bituka/tinai/bagis [Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilokano,
respectively for intestine].
Based on our linguistic analysis, therefore, it appears that the most central
and vital part of the body, as far as the Filipino is concerned, is the intestine.
It is not the heart. This is the reason why when one is wounded or cut, we
would say: “Huwag kang mag-alala, malayo yan sa bituka!” [“Don’t you worry;
it’s far from the intestine!”]. So the concept of sisterhood/brotherhood among
the Filipinos could really be solid and strong. There is really a strong relationship
and camaraderie among Filipinos because they share the same bituka or
intestine.
That is why for us it is important that the Church is the body of Christ; as
members of the Church, we are magkakapatid [of one intestine] in Christ.
Therefore, more than the incarnational theology which we strongly affirm, we
must also develop and promote an “intestinal theology”!
One simple yet profound truth in the life of magkakapatid [brothers/sisters] is
the quality of food they put into their intestines. What kind of food they eat?
Food and the intestine are always intertwined in a person’s life in order to
survive. This new theology—nutritional/intestinal theology—is backed up with
a philosophical dictum: “Comido ergo sum” “I eat, therefore, I am.” This dictum
presupposes the fundamental fact that the quality of food we eat determines,
to a great extent, the quality of our human existence. In this light, it is amazing
to remember that during the 1986 “Snap Presidential Election” in the Philippines,
one of the issues that tilted the victory of Mrs. Corazon Aquino over Mr.
Ferdinand Marcos was the lowly galunggong, the fish that is always in the
table of poor Filipinos because it is the only one they could afford.
In 1990, a book entitled Lasa: A Guide to Eating Out in the Provinces was
published. This book argues that “food is the most concrete definition of what
or who the Filipino is.” In a culture known for its pakiramdaman [sensing the
feelings of others] rather than direct confrontation, it is “only through food
that the Filipino expresses her/his deepest feelings, longings and even
prejudices.” This is the central thesis of the said book. And going through this
book enables one to taste “the morsels of Filipino character.” There are three
significant insights from the book. First, the Filipino eats almost anything: dog
50
meat, frogs, beetles, crocodiles, snakes, etc. Second, temporal routine
determines the Filipino dietary habit. Thus, eating time is agahan [breakfast],
tanghalian [lunch], and hapunan [supper]. Thirdly, food, like the Filipino moral
behavior, is very flexible or adjustable. The Filipino eats, and acts, depending
on the situation. The Filipino’s manner of food consumption depends on the
circumstances: in times of abundant harvest, there is feast; but in times of
suffering or famine, the Filipino learns to eat austerely.
Nonetheless, eating together or table fellowship is a very significant value
and practice among Filipinos. This is the indication of an intimate and close
relationship. This is the reason why when a friend visits another friend’s house,
the usual and immediate question asked by the host is not “How are you
doing?” but “Have you eaten already?” There is also a practice of padigo
among Filipinos that is sharing a bowl of viand or special menu with the nextdoor neighbor. Again, this is an indication of a close and wholesome and
intimate relationship. This practice of padigo is a symbolic act of connecting
one’s intestine with that of the neighbor.
One of the most moving and intriguing stories in the Old Testament is how
Esau was cheated by Jacob twice over. First, he was forced to sell his birthright
to Jacob with a bowl of pottage [Gen. 25:28-33]. Second, Esau was further
cheated by his brother when the final blessing of their dying father was stolen
by Jacob [Gen. 27:1-45].
Central to both stories is the importance of food. Also, there was the all too
human reality of someone taking advantage of the weakness of another. What
is most pathetic is the use of deceit against an old, weak and dying father.
What seems to be un-justifiable is the manipulative scheme perpetuated by a
mother against her dying husband and against her eldest son just to gain
favor for her favorite son! I could not imagine how feminist hermeneutics
would deal with this text. Nevertheless, this was accomplished through the
preparation of a very savory dish to satisfy the final wish of the dying and
almost blind father [Gen. 27:1-45].
In the New Testament, eating together or table fellowship is seen as crucially
significant in the ministry of Jesus Christ. Before he face his death, Jesus
expressed his earnest longing to eat with his disciples [Lk. 22:15-16]. Earlier
in his ministry, Jesus risked his reputation and integrity by eating and drinking
with sinners. Because of this, he was accused of being a glutton by his enemies
[Matt. 11:19].
In the feeding of the five thousand which was recorded by the three Synoptic
Gospels, Jesus insisted: “You give them food to eat” against the disciples’
suggestion to send the crowd away at day’s end [Matt 14:16; Mk 6:23; Lk
9:13]. In the post-resurrection appearances, Jesus revealed his power and
purpose in the context of table fellowship or eating together with his disciples.
For instance, the two disciples whom Jesus joined in the journey to Emmaus
recognized him only when Jesus “broke the bread, blessed it and gave it to
51
them” [Lk 24: 28-31]. Jesus’ third appearance by the lake of Tiberias was
through his invitation to the disciples to eat breakfast with him [Jn 21:12-14].
Shortly after their breakfast, Jesus singled out Peter, spoke to him three times,
and gave to him his parting mandate “to feed my sheep” [Jn 21: 15-17].
When the early Church started to expand beyond the narrow ethnocentric
perspective, it was the same old Peter who was first transformed, almost
against his will, into having a much broader outlook. While he was praying at
noontime, he became hungry and desired something to eat. He saw a vision
of heaven being opened and of a “great sheet” let down from heaven containing
“all kinds of animals and reptiles and birds of the air.” A voice commanded
him to “kill and eat” but Peter refused. He said, “I have never eaten anything
that is common or unclean.” But a voice from heaven was heard three times:
“What God has cleansed you must not consider unclean.” [Acts 10: 9-15].
These selected Scriptural references directly and definitely provide an explicit
affirmation that food plays a central and vital part in the whole drama of God’s
redeeming purpose and action in the life of God’s people. Food is one important
element in the trinity that makes human life meaningful and worth living. The
other two are freedom and faith.
VI. CONCLUDING STATEMENT
Let us go back to the first story in the introduction. The raging anger of that
poor father in Pangasinan happened because of the lack of food in his house.
He could not feed his hungry and crying children. “If only I know where God
is, I will go and find him and quarrel with him!” These could be uttered only
by a person who experienced a great want: want not only of food but also of
hope.
From the perspective of a five-year-old lad, nurtured as I was in the bosom of
a God-fearing, neighbor-caring and not-so-poor Protestant family, those words
were really shocking to me. They were blasphemous words. If only I could
protect and defend God from that malevolent man! What a thought raging in
the mind of a five-year-old lad!
In retrospect, however, the vivid image and the words of that angry man were
the first shattering yet profound theological reality I ever encountered. For
more than forty years since that incident, and with the help of an insight into
the psychology of human suffering as well as the Gospels’ preferential option
for the poor, I can now see that the poor man’s outburst was a primordial
datum in my understanding of a genuine struggle and spirituality. In fact, that
incident is among the significant revelatory events in my life as a pastor and
theology professor.
Jesus said, “I am the living bread which comes from heaven; if anyone eats of
this bread, that one will live forever; the bread which I shall give for the life
52
of the world is my flesh” [Jn 6: 51]. We who are members of the Church are
part of the body of Christ. Our intestines are intertwined in Christ because the
food we eat and partake in is the one body of Christ. Therefore, we have a
distinct pagkakapatiran [sisterhood/brotherhood] and a strong solidarity with
one another. We celebrate our oneness in the sharing of the one body of
Christ in the Holy Eucharist. This is the central symbol and mystery of our
Christian faith. Also the most prominent symbol of God’s reign in the teaching
of Jesus Christ is that of the continuing banquet and feast where people are
eating together, having table fellowship in total harmony and unity [Matt 22:
1-10; Lk 14: 15-24].
Is this not the realization and fulfillment of our aspirations for peace and
justice and freedom and equality among men and women, of all races and
socio-economic, political and cultural situations?
Endnotes
Isagani R. Cruz, “Teoriya at Wika: Kung Bakit Malabo ang Ingles pero
Hindi Dapat Lumabo ang Ating Paningin,” PANTAS: A Journal for Higher Educa­
tion, November 1989, p. 11.
1
2
Ibid., p. 12.
Alberto E. Alejo, S.J., TAO PO! TULOY! Isang Landas ng Pag-unawa sa
Loob ng Tao. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1990, p. ix.
3
4
Ibid., p. x.
5
Ibid., p. x.
Hinango ko ang pananaw na ito kay Ponciano Bennagen, “Cultural
Analysis for Social Transfor-mation,” United Church Letter, XXXII, 1 [1988],
pp. 1; 6-9.
6
Ang awiting ito ay katha ni Jose Corazon de Jesus noong 1928, sa
panahon ng makabayang pakikibaka laban sa mga Amerikano.
7
Howard I. Towne, “The Impending Ecological Nightmare: Can We
Prevent It?” in Riding the Third Wave into the Third Millenium. Ed. By Richard
L. Schwenk. Manila: SEED Center, 1991, p. 41-52.
8
Dioscoro L. Umali, “Be The Heroes We Never Were and Live,” in
Schwenk, ibid., pp. 27-32.
9
53
GOD, COMMUNITY, AND US
By George O. Buenaventura
We, Filipinos, think, speak and act as a community. In our conversations
and stories, we prefer to use pronouns in their plural form such as: tayo
(we, us), atin (our, us), kami (we), sila (they), kayo (you-plural) than ako
(I), ikaw (you-singular), akin (my/mine). When talking to an elderly or
respected individual, as a sign of respect we say, “Kumusta po kayo?” (How
are you?- plural); instead of “Kumusta po ka?” (you- singular)? This is
grammatically wrong, but socially accepted practice! To do otherwise is
shameful.
In my native language (Ilocano), we call our brother/sister kabagis. Bagis
literally means intestine. It is here where food is stored and digested, and
nutrients are absorbed by and for the body. Ka means co or with. Kabagis
means co-intestine, someone with whom we share an intestine. Truly, as
brothers/sisters, we were once all connected through our mother’s umbilical
chord (passage of nutrients from the mother that sustains the fetus). Bagis
is the symbol for communal life and sustenance. We only have a single
word for both brother and sister in Filipino. That is Kapatid or Ka
(abbreviated form of Kapatid). This is used not only to refer to people with
same parents. Friends, members of our organizations and respected
relatives are also addressed Ka. This is an inclusive term. Patid is the
Filipino word for disconnect or cut. This means that we are all “cuts” or
“pieces” from a single source, our mother’s womb. It is an
acknowledgement that we have a common source of life and living. We do
not think of ourselves as separate individuals. Rather, we consider ourselves
equally important and mutually responsible.
Saint Francis of Assissi called all other members of God’s creation Brothers
and Sisters (Kapatid). The universe is a big ‘womb’. We call the earth
Mother Earth. We affirm its capacity to bring out new lives and sustain all
that is born of it. All things were created from a common source, the
ground. “The Lord God took a handful of soil and made a man…”. (Gen.
2:7a CEV). “And out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree
…”. (Gen. 2:9a RSV). “So out of the ground the Lord God formed every
beast of the field and every bird of the air…”. (Gen. 2:19a RSV) So out of the
soil/ground/dust of the ground (our common source) the Lord God (our
common creator) formed everything (our community). Such “geocentric” or
earth-centered interpretation challenges all other anthropocentric (hunam­
centered) and androcentric (man-centered) views of creation. This is a
hermeneutics derived from the margin, making the peripheral in traditional
interpretation central and the central peripheral. This is a more
communitarian hermeneutics. Indeed, we are all sisters and brothers! We
were borne from one mother, whom we call Earth. We are one big
55
community, interelated and interdependent. God, the community, created
and intends to sustain the whole creation as community/communities.
The Torah, the Prophets, Wisdom Writings and Psalms give emphases on
how God’s created community has to be maintained and sustaiined. All
members of the community has to rest during the Sabbath. “… you shall
noy do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your manservant, or
your maidservant, or your cattle, or the sojourners who is within your
gates…”. (Exo. 20:10b). Prophet Micah was very clear in proclaiming what
Yahweh requires: “… but to do justice, and love kindness, and to walk
humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8b). Life with God is and must always be
in communion with God and God’s creation. There is no love of God that
does not pass through the neighbor. Ruth and Naomi were taken care of by
the community. The tithes in the temple must be for the subsistence of the
the landless; such as the Levites, Widows, Orphans and strangers. (Deut.
26:11-12).
Let us illustrate how we can understand Jesus’ stories with the community
as the center. Luke 11:5-8 is about a person who had a visitor from a far
country. He was in need of bread to feed the visitor. His visitor arrived at
midnight, when everybody in the community was sound asleep. Because he
had no bread, he immediately went to ask for bread from his neighbor
friend, whom he knew could not disappoint him for two reasons. First, in a
closely-knit village that had a common oven at the center of the village,
everybody knew who used the common village oven and how much bread
anyone had baked on a given day. The friend in need was very sure that
there was bread in his friend’s house. Secondly, the visitor was not his
personal visitor only, but the visitor of the whole village. It is the
responsibility of the whole village to take care of anybody’s visitor. The
people residing in the villagers might even be relatives as in many villages
in the Philippines! The shame of a person in the community was the shame
of the whole village, in the same way that the pride of anybody in the
village was the pride of the whole village. If he did not ensure that the
visitor was fed, the whole community would blame him. Besides, the friend
in the house responded immediately when he heard the neighbor knocking
and begging for bread. That response is an indication that he is ready to
entertain the needy brother.
I grew up in a village where we hear people circling our house and knocking
at our door at midnight. We would all be awakened every time that
happened, but no one would dare to stand and open the door to the
midnight visitors. We would remain silent, indicating that we were not ready
to open the door and respond to their need. It is otherwise in this story
from Luke. The friend inside the house immediately spoke when he heard
his neighbor knocking, a strong indication of his readiness to respond to the
seeker. He could not deny that he had extra bread. The whole community
would hold him responsible if he would not provide his neighbor’s visitor
with bread. The whole community would be honored, by providing for
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everyone’s visitor. Food is the right of all humans. Everyone deserves to be
fed. It is not the privilege of a few!
The first question we ask our visitors in the Philippines is “Kumain ka na
ba?” (Have you eaten already?) That is why we are known by our
hospitality. When a visitor comes, we serve the best food; offer the best
accommodation (food, room and beddings) available. We let him/her
occupy the only room that there maybe in the house. Everyone else sleeps
in the dining room or living room. We take care of people’s need to eat to
their satisfaction. We believe that it is very important. Jesus’ table
fellowships did not only reflect Jesus’ love for food and drinks. This was
rather a part of his mission strategy. Eating with all kinds of people for him
or open commensality was the essence of the incarnation. Co means with
and mensa in Spanish or mesa in Filipino is table. Jesus eats with others at
a table. We entertain visitors by providing them something to eat or drink.
Failure to do this is a great sin in the Philippines. We also practice what we
call ‘padigo’ or ‘pasabaw’. When someone in the community cooks
something, he/she shares it to his/her neighbors. We love to see others
benefiting from our efforts, especially food. Fiestas and other special
occasions are centered on table fellowships. During fiestas, every house in
the community is open to all. Everyone is everybody’s visitor satisfy. In our
communities, we respond positively to those who fight and insist on real
need, especially when serving outsiders. Let us be equally responsible in
making our environment conducive for strangers’ visit. Visitors or strangers
might decide to live with us and be part for our community or be challenged
to do the same in their own communities.
Our most familiar and ecumenical song ‘Pananagutan’ (Responsibility) says:
Walang sinuman ang nabubuhay para sa sarili
lamang,
Walang sinuman ang namamatay para sa sarili lamang.
Tayong lahat ay may pananagutan sa isa’t-isa,
Tayong lahat ay tinipon ng Dios na kapiling N’ya.
(Nobody lives for himself/herself alone,
Nobody dies for himself/herself alone;
We all have responsibilities to one another,
We were all called by God to be with Him.)
When Filipinos borrow and adopt foreign words, we take and use their
plural form. We do not use the singular form in our conversations. For
example, Peso(s) is always Pesos in Ilocano and Pampango, regardless of
its amount. Manzana (apple) is always mansanas in Filipino, uva (grape) is
always ubas, castana is always castanas, and many more.
We think in groups and consider authentic human existence in its socio­
political and historical dimensions. We analyze and understand human
57
problems in the light of their social/community context. A person to us is a
community. We can only understand humans within the context of their
interrelationships and interconnections. When a Filipino bachelor, for
example, decides to marry a woman, he has to seek the consent and advice
of his parents and relatives. That is also true of the woman. When they
inform their mothers of their plan to get married, their mother would say,
“Have you informed your father? Your uncles and aunts, grandparents (lolo
and lola), your Godparents (ninong and ninang), our pastor, barangay
captain, etc, etc, should know this and be involved in the pamanhikan (visit
to the girl’s house to ask her parents of their decision). Even the most
personal decision and relationship (marriage) have to be decided
communally! Filipino families are usually big (extended families). They
include the grandparents, Godparents, uncles, and aunts on both sides.
Everybody has to be informed and involved in the simple issue of marriage.
Everybody does not only have the right to know, but has the right to be
consulted and be involved in the planning and decision-making process.
When wedding day comes, everybody must be present. When a relative
cannot attend for a very important reason or unavoidable circumstance, he/
she has to inform them early or send a representative on his behalf with
his/her gifts. Even the political leaders and important personalities in the
community have to be invited to take part in the marriage of two persons.
Every member of the community should witness the event. In short,
Filipinos believe that establishing a family and taking part in this God’s
creative activity is a community responsibility.
The ‘interconnectedness of all things’ became even more stark to me in
1995, when, one night in the franticness of chasing and killing the
mosquitoes in our house, Josh, our then six-year-old son came and started
a discussion.
Josh: Father, who made these undesirable insects?
Me: (A little bit surprised) Of course, God, my son.
Josh: Why did God make them? They are not necessary. They make us sick!
(He and his Sister had just come home from the hospital due to
dengue fever, which is known to be a mosquito-related disease).
Me: God made them to serve as foods for the bats. (Bats are bird-like
mammals that fly and eat insects during the night)
Josh: But, why are there bats? I am scared of those ugly bats. We don’t
need them either!
Me: Bats may look unnecessary and ugly, but you know what? When we
were still young, your grandfather used to look for bats’ caves and gather
their dung (waste). According to him bats’ dung are the best fertilizer for his
vegetables. And it was true! We grew the healthiest vegetables in our
town because we used bats’ waste, instead of imported inorganic
fertilizers.
Josh: Why do you grow vegetables and force us to eat them. These are not
delicious to us.
Me: My son, vegetables are good for our health. Eat vegetables and you will
58
live longer.
Josh: But why do we have to be healthy and live long?
Me: (I feel the conversation will never end. And I am now losing my
patience
with Josh’s seemingly never-ending questions. I decided to finish it)
We need to be healthy and live long because the mosquitoes need us!
(And the conversation stopped.)
Most Filipinos have always been environment-friendly. Asin composed and
popularized the song ‘Kapaligiran’ (Environment) in the 70’s. But our social
commitment to ecology, I would argue, exploded in the early 90’s. We held
rallies, symposia, workshops, dialogues and concerts. Our folk songs reveal
the basic truth about our environment. Joey Ayala, in his song
‘’Magkaugnay’ (Connected) says:
Ang lahat ng bagay ay magkaugnay, Magkaugnay ang lahat
(All things are related, All things are connected.)
And in his song ‘Puno sa Gubat’ (Trees in the Forest) says:
… Ngunit huwag sanang lilimutin ang ating pinagmulan,
Tayo ay bunga ng mundo, Anak nitong sanlibutan.
(But let us never forget where we came from,
We are fruits of this world, Children of the universe.)
Chorus: Tayo ay mga puno sa gubat, Ang ugat at sanga’y magkaugnay;
Nakakapit sa lupa, sa lupa, Tungong langit naman ang
paglakbay;
(We are trees in the forest,
Our roots and branches are intertwined/interconnected ,
Planted in the soil, And traveling toward heaven.)
And in his prayer song, ‘Bathala’ (Lord God) he expressed sorrow and
despair due to humans’ disregard of this holy relatedness:
… Subalit buhay dalisay ay di sapat sa iilan,
Sila’y nasilaw sa kinang ng kasakiman;
Ganid na Dios ang sinamba,
Pinaghatihatian po nila ang lupa,
Karagatan at himpapawid ngayo’y may bakod na!
Kapwa tao’t hayop ma’y inaagawan ng tahanan,
Walang nakaliligtas sa kanilang karahasan;
Kaunlaran at kabutihan daw ang kanilang sadya,
Subalit ang lumilitaw ay isang panggagahasa.
(But pure life seems not to be enough for the few,
They were tempted by the glory of selfishness;
They worshipped a selfish god,
They divided the land for themselves;
They put fences on oceans and the air,
59
They took the homes of people and animals;
Nobody can escape their violence,
They claim to bring development and peace,
But it is clearly rape.)
More so, in the last two years of the twentieth (20th) century than in any
previous eras have people in this world realized their interconnectedness
and interdependence. The issue of the Millennium Bug or Y2K made us even
more aware of our interconnectedness. In order to educate and assure
people about the issue, we switched Sunday School classes to discuss the
issue for a month.
People’s businesses are all interconnected and interdependent. For example,
General Motors Corporation had more than 10,000 companies that supply
them automobile parts to produce automobiles. Failure of one supplier
means non-production of a single unit of automobile. All of these are
computer dependent. Failure of one unit of computer would mean a
disruption in many operations. A shutdown of one big computer-operated
power plant, would imply the failure of the whole power grid and people’s
lives (which is electricity-dependent) would be adversely affected. Failure to
solve the Y2K problem meant losing all the benefits of that technology, a
shattering of important interconnections. Fortunately, the Millennium Bug or
Y2K fear passed without the world suffering major difficulties and
breakdowns.
In the era of information technology humans have created a
communications highway from the most industrialized urban centers to the
remotest villages. Radio sets, Televisions and communications equipment
are everywhere instantly connecting people from all corners of the world.
Philippines itself is known as the ‘texting’ capital of the world. We have the
most number of handheld or mobile telephones and send the most number
of text messages in the world.
What the stories and our experiences tell us is true. It is imperative that we
see both creation and salvation/liberation as social. John Wesley was right
when he said, “I do not know of any Gospel, but social gospel… no holiness
but social holiness”.20 The means and end therefore of Christian mission is
to create communities. As Christians, our calling is to build Christian
communities and form a Christian environment, rather than merely
reforming Christian institutions. A person’s beliefs, attitudes, values and
behavior patterns (even his/her Christianity) are formed to a great degree
by his/her environment. A person therefore, needs a Christian environment
if he/she is going to live his Christianity in a vital way. Stephen B. Clark
said, “The main goal of the pastoral efforts in the church today is to build
communities which make it possible for a person to live a Christian life.”21 It
is for this reason that we should aim and strive to create communities that
provide potentials and avenues for nurturing humans into the fullness of
their humanity.
60
The Philippines is the only country in Asia where the majority of the
population (85% or more) are Christians. The Christian faith has had
positive contributions to our life as a nation. The churches pioneered in
establishing inclusive educational institutions. The churches have been
instrumental in the dissemination of socialist ideas, which in turn foster a
high regard for justice among our people. However, our social service
agenda is individualistic in nature. Christianity in the Philippines remains to
be western in character with complex of defensiveness. In the words of
Tissa Balasuriya, it does not emphasize “social intercourse”.22 Our churches
are full of foreign images. Even the attire and language of our clergy,
medium of instruction in our schools and even church architectures reflect
our western tutelage and colonial history. This is especially evident in our
theological education. We look up to professors who were from or have
graduated from the USA and Europe, where ironically, many Christian
churches, particularly the Mainline Protestant Churches are dying!
GOD, THE SCRIPTURES AND COMMUNITY FOR US
God is a community. In the Priestly creation story (Genesis 1:26, 27), God is
portrayed as one who consults and invites others as partners for a job or
mission. God (Elohim- plural) said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image,
according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over…(NRSV). The
author used plural terms for God (us, our). God alludes to his partner’s
participation in the whole process (Proverbs 8:22-32). God purposedly
created all things so that they are all interrelated. God created humankind
(Gen. 1:26, 27), a community of humans. God actually created us in
communities! God called and blessed a family, then a nation to be a light to
the nations. God built a community in an impossible way, through a barren
old woman! God created a family of humans to bring light to all nations
(Genesis 22:15-18). God brings about his vision of a new heaven and a new
earth through concrete historical and social processes in communities.
The Hebrews were liberated from bondage in communities- including all
that they had (Exodus 12:31-32). Their liberation was a total liberation from
fear and from the oppressive social system of the Egyptians. They occupied
Canaan in tribes, where properties were communal. They instituted laws
that included concern for the least privileged (landless sojourners or
wanderers in the land, widows and orphans). They promulgated laws to
strengthen the covenant community commitment to justice, compassion and
faith. They organized in tribes and came together in times of worship and
war against common enemies in defense of their common territory.
They built communities in exile with the hope that in so doing, their faith
would be made more concrete and liberating. (Jeremiah 29:4-7). In exile,
they hoped to return to their land not only as a nation, but as a united
worshipping community. (Ezekiel 37). Bernhard Anderson puts it, “The
contrast between the individual and the community is completely alien to
61
Israel’s covenant faith, according to which the individual is related to God as
a member of a community”.23 Anderson further states that to be a solitary
individual, cut off from the established means of grace is to be a fugitive,
and in the words of David, having “no heritage of Yahweh. (I Samuel
26:19), was the greatest calamity imaginable!”24
God as community is the foundation of the church and its trinitarian
theology. We call Israel and the Church a “people of God”. Fuellerbach
considers the church as the “sacrament of the kingdom… a growing
community involved in history constantly in need of God’s mercy and
forgiveness”25
In redemption, God consulted and struggled with Godself. Jesus, the
Godson prayed that he be saved from the impending suffering (Mark 14:33,
34, 36). He was deeply grieved, distressed and agitated. Then on the cross,
Jesus shouted, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? There is a
continuing conversation here, not between God and Satan— the adversary,
but God with Godself. Salvation happens by cooperation, because God
thinks, speaks and acts in the same way with us— in community! Jesus’
central message, the Kingdom of God, as Alejandro Cussianovich
summarizes is “universal in perspective, communitarian in content,
collective in structure and prophetic in message”.26 It is not merely an
“interior reality; it is a social fact”.27
OUR OWN STORIES
After graduating from the seminary in 1990, I was appointed to pastor my
home church for three consecutive years. During my first two years there, I
established connections and rapport with other Christian churches and
people’s organizations. On two occasions I was invited to preach during our
town thanksgiving day, which we call fiesta. We, Filipinos are fond of fiestas
(Spanish term for feasts or festivals). Fiestas used to be celebration
confined to the Roman Catholics. These were done in honor of their patron
saints. Later, fiestas became community celebrations where all sectors:
government and private, and religious— Roman Catholics and Protestants
participate. The celebration always starts with an ecumenical worship
service. Parish priests of the Roman Catholic Church and Pastors of
Protestant Churches join in the opening liturgy. Church members and choirs
also gather for the joint worship service.
I exchanged pulpit with the parish priest once a year during Simbang Gabi
(evening or early morning services before Christmas). Our church choir
sang in other churches, including Roman Catholic Churches. I often cocelebrate with other church workers in weddings, and thanksgiving services.
Our church hosted province-wide gathering of evangelical churches. It has
become a favorite venue for the seminars and workshops, which the
government and non-government organizations hold. In this way, the
62
church has become a visible and active participant in many community
affairs.
On my third year, the churches did not only gather for fellowship and
thanksgiving celebrations; we organized ourselves for common community
services and advocacy programs. We were able to organize the Provincial
Coalition of Churches for Environmental Protection, of which I was the co­
chairman. We held dialogues with government agencies and private logging
and mining firms. The Province of Aurora is the only place in Luzon where a
rain forest still exists where our Philippine Eagle breeds. We were able to
work for the closure of two sawmills and logging companies, which
operated within the watershed. We also visited schools and institutions to
educate people and make them ecologically conscious. We learned that
much could be done when churches work together as one community.
The ecumenical movement also launched a crusade against gambling.
Today, we are proud to be one of the very few provinces in the country that
do not have jueteng, an illegal number’s game. Bet collectors roam around
the community to gather bets (money and numbers). This is a communitybased illegal numbers’ game but the government has not done much to
control it because according to reliable information, both police and political
hierarchy receive huge amount of ‘bribe money’ from jueteng lords. This is
a game where the poor people’s money are collected and siphoned to the
rich people’s pockets like any other gambling operation.
Our town mayor, whose wife is an active member of our church, started
jueteng simultaneously in four towns. He had the protection of our
provincial and local police. The wife of the chief of police is a sister of our
mayor’s wife. Their families are active members of the church. Two days
after jueteng was started; I visited the parish priest of the Roman Catholic
Church. I shared with him my views against gambling. He confessed that
the ‘jueteng lords’ promised to give an enormous amount to the church if
the church would not oppose jueteng operations in the province. It so
happened that this particular priest was also against it, so we agreed to
preach and teach our people against jueteng during our worship services on
the ensuing Sunday. Then I went to the pastors of a Pentecostal Church and
International Baptist Church. They also expressed their opposition to
jueteng. I shared with them our agreement with the Roman Catholic priest
and we all agreed that we would meet our members for discussion so that
we could plan for the opposition march to the mayor’s office as soon as it
was possible. I went to the police camp the night before that Sunday. I
talked to one of the officers who also happen to be a member of our
church. He told me that they could not act against it because it had the
‘blessing’ (protection) of the ‘top’ (the Provincial Police chief). When I asked
him about his personal conviction, he confessed that he was also against
gambling. I invited him to the church meeting on Sunday.
63
Sunday came. I preached on the social evil of jueteng and the immorality of
draining whatever little resource the poor people had. I taught them the evil
of instant wealth, too. I met with the congregation after the worship service
and asked everyone to speak out her/his views. To my surprise, not a single
person spoke in favor of gambling! Even the mayor’s wife and in-laws
strongly opposed it! They suggested that we make a position letter as a
church calling for the immediate end to it. Two lawyer members and the
president of the municipal association of barangay captains were elected to
help me compose the letter. We also agreed to join the march against
jueteng the following day. The heads of our own church high school and
that of the Roman Catholic Church promised to rally with us also.
Early Monday morning, we marched towards the municipal hall. School
principals, teachers and students also joined the church people in the
march. Two members of the municipal council were also with us. Upon
reaching the municipal hall, the priest and I were ushered into the mayor’s
office. The mayor welcomed us and immediately confessed that his wife
troubled him the whole night and that he was “outside the kulambo ako
kagabi” (“I was outside the mosquito net last night” which literally means,
not being allowed to sleep beside his wife, a Filipino term to indicate that
the there was a problem between the couple) due to the jueteng issue. His
wife was in the church during the Sunday worship and meeting. By siding
with the church against jueting and castigating her husband (the mayor)
she had also helped in the immediate and effective resolution of the issue.
So the mayor already knew our position. Without much discussion, the
mayor honestly accepted that it was he who started jueteng. He told us that
he just wanted to see if it would prosper. I handed him our position paper
and told him that the people were against it, and that we came to tell him
so. There and then, he promised us that he would stop jueteng that same
day. I requested him to tell the news to the people, where upon he went
out and announced to the public what we discussed and have agreed upon.
Everybody was happy and we went home satisfied. We had learned that
much could be accomplished if we only cooperate, instead of focusing on
matters of differences that could divide the church of Jesus Christ. In our
hunger and thirst for justice and righteousness, we discovered ways
towards practicing real ecumenism! Our ecumenism has become God’s
instrument in creating a more just society— a new heaven on earth.
Another story which is worth sharing is our experience in establishing a
Church Foundation named SAREPTA Foundation, Incorporated in my later
church appointment in Bulacan. Sarepta is a place in Sidon (outside Israel)
where prophet Elijah was sent by God to survive the famine caused by a
long draught. There he met a widow who, like any other widow was very
poor. She and her son lived by gathering what the farmers left in the field
and any contributions from the community. The story in I Kings 17:8-24
describes the extreme poverty of the widow in her reply to Elijah, “As the
Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal (flour) in
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a jar and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I
may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and
die”. (v. 12) Then in verse 18 the widow said, “What have you against me,
O man of God? You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and
to cause the death of my son!” She assumed that Elijah came to judge to
her, and that in any case, Elijah was to be an additional burden to her. But
the story ended well. When she shared the remaining flour and oil to the
stranger (foreigner), they both survived the famine. Her dead son was also
brought back to life. SAREPTA also stands for Samasamang (United)
Adhikain (Vision) ng Responsableng (of Responsible) Pananampalataya
(Faith) ang Tugon (the Response) ng Atlag UMC (of Atlag UMC).
This was our basis in establishing a center for a) feeding undernourished
street children, b) teaching them and their parents and c) providing
livelihood opportunities to their families. None of our church members came
to ask for food and free education, an indication that our present members
have enough. But many people from the neighborhood came to avail of
SAREPTA’s services. We welcomed them and offered them help. Concerned
and able members of the church consistently share their resources to the
Foundation. The church was freed from mere domestic concerns.
For more than a century, Protestant churches in the Philippines have fed
poor street children through foreign funds, brought by foreign mission
boards and individuals. We did this before to convert people to
Protestantism, and therefore, to enrich ourselves! We were brought up to
the idea that mission means dole outs from rich foreign countries and
philantrophic individuals. For that very same reason such programs could
not be sustained. They folded up when the sponsors decided to cut their
support.
This will not be the case with SAREPTA Foundation. Its three programs will
continue and, in fact, expand as long as the local church exists and remains
faithful to her mission. Through the work of SAREPTA FOundation, we
experience the sufficiency of God’s grace. More and more people are
coming to know God through their experience with the church, and the
Church grows daily in membership, and resources.
Mission in the Philippine context should be done through the creation of
communities if it is to be faithful to the Scriptures and respectful of the rich
heritage of the Filipinos. Filipinos are known for their close family ties and
for being community-oriented persons. The Bible is filled with stories of
peoples’ experiences in communities. Being a Filipino is consistent with
being a Christian in terms of social responsibility. We are always ready to
include others in our community instead of forcing them out merely because
of their religion or race.
I end with a fellowship song in Filipino, which runs like this:
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Magagawa natin ang lahat ng bagay, Ang lahat ng bagay sa
mundo;
Isang bagay, hindi magagawa, Hindi magagawang nag-iisa.
Malulutas natin ang mga problema, Kung tayo’y magkaisa;
Ang sulirani’y dagling mapaparam at may bagong buhay!
(We can do all things, All things in this world;
Anything we cannot do, We cannot do it alone.
We can solve all our problems, If we unite;
All our problems would be gone,
And new life would come.)
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RE-IMAGINING JONAH
By Romy L. del Rosario
We know that from as early as the call of Abraham, some two thousand
years before the birth of Christ, God chose Abraham’s descendants—Israel,
to become a blessing to others—to the nations. We also know that through
the centuries, Israel was basically smug about its being chosen but had
difficulty with its being tasked to be a blessing to the nations. By the time
of the exile, some five hundred fifty years before the birth of Christ, when
Israel as the two divided kingdoms of Israel and Judah came under the
power of first, Assyria, and then later, Babylonia, many of the Hebrews
seemed to have thought of their God, Yahweh, in very narrow and selfish
terms as a warrior god who fought their battles and often demanded the
brutal and inhuman treatment of their enemies. This notwithstanding, the
exile resulted in two understandings of the Hebrew God Yahweh.
First, the Hebrews understood God or Yahweh as the God of all peoples—
the universal God, whom Israel had failed and who, in turn, used Assyria
and Babylonia as agents to punish Israel. This understanding implied that
because Yahweh was the ruler of Assyria and Babylonia, then, ultimately,
Yahweh was the ruler of all and was, in fact, the only God that there was.
All other gods were mere idols.
Secondly, the Hebrews understood Yahweh as a God who was everywhere.
Yahweh was with them in Babylon as much as Yahweh was with them in
Jerusalem. This understanding that God was with them everywhere and
was therefore everywhere revived Israel’s understanding of itself as being
tasked to become a blessing to the nations everywhere. They were not to
think of themselves merely as privileged to enjoy a special relationship, but
as instruments/channels of God’s light and love to all peoples everywhere.
Unfortunately, the exile also had the exact opposite effect on many other
Hebrews. Instead of making these particular Hebrews inclusive, hospitable,
embracing and accepting of other peoples and other nations, it made them
exclusive, isolationist, smug, narrow, bigoted and vengeful. This group of
Hebrews believed that all of Israel’s troubles were due to the pagan and
heathen influences that had crept into their lives, and the dilution and
pollution of their blood with foreign blood. Their solution was to purge all
of these corrupting elements. We find full expression of this spirit in the
books of Nahum, Ezra, Nehemiah, Daniel and Esther.
In stark contrast to this is the spirit of the writer Jonah, as it was true of the
writers of Ruth and II Isaiah, who felt called to challenge this narrow and
vengeful attitude. He (or she for all we know) set or located his story back
to a time about two hundred years earlier (around 700 something years
before the birth of Christ) when indeed there lived a historical Jonah whose
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narrow kind of patriotism easily degenerated into vengeance and bigotry.
(II Kings 14:25).
Now, Nineveh is, of course, not that unfamiliar to many of us. Nineveh was
the capital of Assyria, and Assyria was, according to some scholars, the
most cruel and savage people of antiquity. Assyria was Israel’s worst
enemy. Assyria laid to waste the kingdom of Israel in the year 727-721
BCE. For the Hebrews, hell was to live under the rule of Assyria. One
scholar even says that Nineveh, Assyria “scorched its enemies alive to
decorate its walls and pyramids with their skins.” So, on top of the bigoted
tradition, which the character of Jonah represents and which renders Jonah
incapable of loving or caring for the foreigner, Jonah also bore in his
character, the hatred that many Hebrews had of Nineveh (see Jonah by
William Pickard).
In the end, the whole story Jonah is the story of how God breaks open the
minds and hearts of the people of Nineveh, but it is also, if not even more
so, the story of how God attempts to break open the mind and heart of
Jonah, which is another way of saying that the story of Jonah is a story of
how God attempts to break open the minds and hearts of the Hebrew
people. As we read it now, it becomes a story of how God breaks open our
minds and hearts so that we may leave our evil and cruel ways—so that we
may truly love other peoples, especially our enemies. We read it now
believing that this God of compassion and mercy could transform us like
God, in the story of Jonah, transforms Nineveh, or pursue us like God
pursues Jonah and attempts to transform us like God attempts to transform
Jonah’s life. The word “attempt” is, of course, a key word here, because in
our hearts and minds, as it is true in Jonah’s heart and mind, God is still
working /struggling to make space for other peoples, especially our
enemies. Our lives are ever in the formation stage. God is working on us
still. Our Bible study is about how God does this.
CHAPTER 1:1-17 THE SURPRISE APPROACH—YOU DON’T LIKE
FOREIGNERS; I WILL INTERRUPT YOUR LIFE WITH FOREIGNERS OR I
WILL INTRODUCE FOREIGNERS INTO YOUR LIFE
Is this the only ship that is going anywhere when Jonah is ready to go? Or
is this the ship that is going the farthest distance since it is going to the far
end of the Mediterranean? Your guess is as good as mine. How much does
Jonah know of the nationality or nationalities represented by the crew of
each ship that is at the pier? Does he choose this one because he thinks
most, if not all, of its crew would be Hebrews? It is difficult, if not virtually
impossible to plan, much less act, with sensibility when one is very angry,
and most especially when one is running from the Lord. Jonah is angry
because his fulfillment of his task could really mean the salvation of a
foreign people, the archenemy of the Hebrews. But irony of ironies,
considering how Jonah’s faith does not have room for foreigners, Jonah
ends up on a ship that is heading for Spain, and everyone in the entire
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crew, from the captain to the rank and file sailors, is a foreigner. The story
impresses upon us that Jonah is the only Hebrew on board.
God uses this strange chemistry on board the ship to challenge the narrow
and vengeful understanding and practice of Jonah’s faith in several ways.
First, God does not speak directly to Jonah on the ship. Instead, God
communicates to Jonah through the captain of the ship and the sailors, who
constitute a representative portion of the general classification of people he
despises—the foreigners. (1:6, 8, 10-11) It is they who confront Jonah. It
is their faith and the sincere practice of their faith that stands out against
the background of Jonah, who flees his God and abandons his country and
people in the process.
Those of us who now read the story, are told that we can actually see God
move and speak in unexpected places and through the lives of unlikely
individuals. The story of Jonah is saying that this is not unnatural or
unusual of God. What it is saying is that this is actually God’s pattern,
God’s way, not only with Jonah, but with all of us. We have a God of
reversals. We have a God of surprises. We have an unconventional God.
If we are to hear God, we will need to train the ears of our hearts to hear
God speak not only in the usual places but in the unexpected places and
through unusual people and individuals. Indeed, while the ways of our faith
may have petrified and while the span of our hospitality may have shrunk,
the sheer openness and sincerity of the people whose faith or theology, or
denominational affiliation, or race or background or sexual orientation or
age or physical and mental condition may be different from ours may be all
we need to discover or rediscover the all-embracing grace and love of God.
Many times God’s ways are indeed strange. The very people whom we fear
would destroy our day would be the ones to make it. The ones whose
thoughts and values and convictions we think would be completely foreign
to us or even opposed to ours would, instead, inspire the best in us. God
does speak in unexpected places and through the most unlikely individuals.
If we are open to God’s strange ways, the ugliness that we fear describes
the foreigner and the enemy will turn out to be the very beauty that God
uses to transform our lives.
Because of the bias of the Western press, many of the people, who came to
Jerusalem and to the Land of the Holy One during the three-year period
that I served in Jerusalem in the late eighties through early nineties as a
liaison pastor of the United Methodist Church with the Middle East Council
of Churches, came essentially as friends of the Jewish Israelis and as
enemies of Palestinians, because they knew more about Jews than
Palestinians, and the little they knew about Palestinians were very biased
against them. They also came expecting to get a spiritual high solely by
visiting the traditional sites connected to the life of Christ. In other words,
they went from stone to stone as they followed the footsteps of Jesus.
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While the value of such an experience cannot be underestimated, invariably,
the ones whose visit to the land of the Holy One became truly lifetransforming were those who visited with the people—the Palestinians and
the Jewish communities, Muslims and Christians that during a very difficult
period in their lives, strove to find a solution to the ongoing conflict, and to
the extent possible, tried to work for justice and peace with their neighbors.
I remember taking many groups of United Methodists from the USA on a
tour of Israel and the Occupied Territories purposely to talk with the
Israelis, Palestinians, Muslims and Christians about their pain, their struggle
and their continuing hope. Because many US visitors to the Land of the
Holy One know very little about Palestinians and had never in their lives
met Palestinians, what often turned out to be the most disturbing and yet
for the same reason moving and inspiring segment of their tour is their visit
with Palestinians, particularly Palestinian mothers in refugee camps.
In one home a group of mothers gathered to speak to us. They welcomed
us warmly the traditional Palestinian/Arab way (with Arab coffee). A mother
said, “Look at us. Look at our children. Look at their fathers. (Some of
whom were romping with the children as we visited). Don’t we look like
families everywhere? We worry and cannot sleep when our children are
sick. We are happy when they are well. We are a people just like the
Americans are a people, just like the Jewish people. We have dreams and
hopes for our children like you. Some of our people have become
desperate but basically, as a people we are lovers of peace. We pray for
peace five times a day. We also pray for the Jewish mothers. Let us not
waste the lives of our children. Please tell the American people and the US
government what you have seen and heard here, and to work for true
peace with justice in the region.” UMC visitors told me that they met Christ
on these visits and that they heard Christ expressing both his pain and his
hope through both the Jewish and the Palestinian mothers. God does speak
in unexpected places and through unlikely individuals.
Secondly, God presents Jonah an impressively positive and endearing
picture of the foreigners’ faith and religion, and by it models an entirely
hospitable attitude toward human diversity and plurality (1;7, 9-10 & 13­
16). Moreover, God gives Jonah and us who now read the story, the
impression that the God of Jonah and the other gods or the gods of a
foreign people could actually engage in a common endeavor. They could
work in cooperation, so to speak. This idea could cause quite a revolution
in the minds of all us who, of course, believe that there is only one God, but
whose belief has made many of us so closed to the reality of other people’s
spirituality that in our practice of our own faith, we could end up and do end
up more often than not being not only exclusive, but altogether vicious, evil
and cruel.
In this part of the story, we are struck by the contrast between the rather
joyless, dull, angry, smug, arrogant, narrow, bigoted, exclusivist,
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inhospitable, and rigid belief of Jonah in the God of heaven, who created
the sea and the dry land, and the sailors’ inclusive, hospitable,
spontaneous, ebullient, and yes, lively practice of their own faith and
religion even in a very turbulent and disturbed situation.
In chapter 1 verse 6, the captain who, at this point, does not even know yet
who the God of Jonah is, demonstrates his openness to Jonah’s religion by
telling Jonah to pray to his God that his God might have pity on them and
keep them from drowning.
In verse 7 of the same chapter, the sailors consult their gods for guidance
as to who is causing the raging storm and strong winds, and the gods
respond by pointing at Jonah. The gods cooperate. (In other versions, the
sailors cast lots, but scholars say that this is also to find out the will of
God).
In the third instance (verse 10), the sailors, upon hearing Jonah confess
that he is a Hebrew, who worships the God of heaven, who made the sea
and the dry land, reprimands Jonah for being disobedient and for running
from his God, they say, “Do you know what you have done?” Jonah does
not honor his God, but the sailors honor the God of Jonah.
Fourthly (verses 12-16), when the sailors hesitate to throw Jonah
overboard, the sailors practice the farthest stretch of their openness or
inclusiveness (in the seminary, we also say, ecumenicity) by praying to the
God of Jonah, not to their gods. Not only that, once they have thrown
Jonah overboard, they offer a sacrifice to the Lord of Jonah and make all
kinds of promises to Jonah’s God.
And fifthly, God overwhelms Jonah with compassion through the foreign
sailors themselves (chapter 1:7-13). Here, the contrast is stark between
the sailor’s compassion and Jonah’s utter lack of it. First, even after the
sailors find out from their gods that Jonah is the cause of all the trouble,
they do not throw him overboard right away. They speak to him first asking
him questions to find out who he is, and to confirm how it is that, as their
gods point out, Jonah is the cause of all the trouble. Secondly, instead of
throwing Jonah overboard right away, they choose to try to row back to
shore. Thirdly, when the storm keeps getting worse, they pray to the God
of Jonah first. They ask God not to let them drown for taking an innocent
man’s life. Despite what they already know about Jonah, they still consider
him innocent, and they actually do not want the contemptible task of
throwing him overboard. The sailors do not know that Jonah has this
assignment to proclaim a warning to the people of Nineveh about their
terrible sins. But we readers know that, and we are the ones who see the
irony. On the one hand is Jonah instructing the sailors to throw him
overboard because he would really rather die than carry out his
assignment—that is, to be a participant in the salvation of Nineveh, a whole
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city. On the other are the sailors, who do everything they can to save this
one man’s life even at the risk of all their lives.
I do not know what you make of all this or how this impacts your
understanding or theology of evangelism and mission. You may be repulsed
by the whole idea of being respectful of other religions and other gods and
the people who worship them. But these insights are all in the story. We
do not invent these. Here lies the irony of the story of Jonah, and behind it
the humor of the writer of Jonah—nay, the humor of the God of Jonah, and
the grand truth behind the humor. Here, on the one hand, are the sailors,
who are very “ecumenical” about their religion on the one hand, and here,
on the other hand is Jonah, very closed, very judgmental, very rigid, very
smug about his faith and his God. We do not find the gods of the captain
and the sailors put down or insulted or denigrated in the story. Instead,
they are put in good light even as the name of Yahweh and the faithfulness
and patience and compassion of Yahweh our God is lifted up. We have here
a critic of the exclusiveness or the rigidity of Jonah’s and our own practice
of our faith. Instead of serving as a bridge between us and other people,
our faith becomes a terrible canyon that needs to be bridged. Instead of
our faith being an avenue by which we could cross over and understand and
love other people, it becomes a thick wall between us. We become
unfaithful to the Savior of the World when in our practice of the faith, and
therefore in the practice of our politics, economics, and in the ordering of
our priorities, we witness instead to a much reduced and truncated God,
who is the Savior only of ourselves or our own people and no one else.
CHAPTER 1:8-9 THE-REMEMBER-WHO-YOU-ARE APPROACH OR YOUR
BACKGROUND, IDENTITY-AND-WORK-ARE-PRECIOUS-TO-GOD APPROACH
God breaks open our minds and hearts and creates a space in them for
other people, especially foreigners and our enemies by asking us to
remember who we are and reflect seriously upon what we do. In the
passage before us, God uses the sailors to goad Jonah to look at his own
identity or background and occupation. What is pathetic is Jonah does not
see any connection between his worship of the God of heaven, who creates
the sea and the dry land, and his task to love other people, especially his
enemies. God aims to raise his consciousness about his identity and his
place in the larger community of nations. Jonah and Jonah’s people—the
Hebrew people are chosen to become a blessing to the nations. The
specific end in view is, of course, to enable Jonah to realize the pertinence
of his identity and his worship of Yahweh to his assignment to proclaim a
warning to Nineveh.
“What business are you in? In the NRSV it says, “What is your occupation?”
“Where do you come from?” What is your country?” “Who are your people?”
Or “Of what people are you?”
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At Union Theological Seminary, we are instructed—nay required by the
Association for Theological Education in South East Asia to use the “Critical
Asian Principle” as a norm or guide for what we do. Basically, the “Critical
Asian Principle” asks us to ask ourselves the very questions which the
sailors ask Jonah. So we do—constantly. And each time we do, we do so
not merely for the purpose of pursuing some narrow understanding of
nationalism or patriotism. Our objective rather is to rally our churches and
communities behind the joy and privilege of celebrating and affirming how
precious we are as a people in the heart of God through what we do in
worship, service and mission and community organization and community
advocacy and to determine our task and calling in relation to the larger
community of churches, peoples and nations. The questions: “What
business are you in?” or “What do you do?” and “Where do you come
from?” “What is your country?” and “Who are your people?” come up every
time we review the curriculum, or plan a liturgy, or choose music for
worship. They are closely linked to the choice of books we order for the
library, to concerns related to the qualifications and background of our
faculty, the languages we use in teaching and our teaching methodologies,
our assumptions about how Filipinos think and how our students learn and
the purpose and content of our Field Education. They are integral to our
attitude and responsibility in relation to Philippine and world politics and
economics and issues of justice and peace.
Last year, I co-taught a class in the “the Spirit and Popular Culture.” My
colleague and I were interested in discovering with the students how
Filipinos think, reflect, philosophize and theologize as Christians and as
Filipinos, and how this translates into our practice of the faith and ministry.
It is actually a tall order considering the thickness and weight of our
colonial history and the difficulty of coming out from underneath it. We
read novels and essays in Tagalog and a book of interviews done with
Filipino women writers reflecting on culture, gender, politics, the women’s
struggles and social life as a whole. We listened to music and, at the
Cultural Center of the Philippines, saw the musical “Himala”, a play that
began as a movie featuring Nora Aunor and has since become a classic in
both forms. It raises many questions about Filipino religiosity and
spirituality. We held the class in Tagalog or Taglish while at the same time
encouraging students to reflect upon experiences and resources from their
various regions using images and symbols integral to the different Philippine
languages and dialects.
In one particular period of two weeks, we paid attention to the word “loob”,
roughly translated as “inside” or “within”. We discussed the nuances and
meanings of utang na loob, sama ng loob, nasiraan ng loob, kalooblooban,
masama ang loob, kagandahang loob, mababang loob, kaloob, buo ang
loob, mabigat and loob, magaan ang loob, lamang-loob, kalooban, loobin,
saloobin, looban, nilooban, nasiraan ng loob, and others. We thought about
what the meaning of these words and phrases would imply in terms of our
understanding of gift and giving, offering and commitment, repentance and
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forgiveness, gratitude and stewardship, broken relationships and
reconciliation, healing, violence, anger, despair, joy, faith, hope, and grace.
We asked ourselves how we could witness to the compassion and mercy of
God in ways that reach the kalooblooban so that we may truly participate
not only in the birth of faith, but also in the change that could take place in
lives of individuals and communities.
In another weeklong period, we discussed the Filipino practices of eating
and the use or non-use of tables and chairs. In many Filipino homes to this
day, for reasons of poverty or culture or both, people eat on the floor. I
grew up eating at a table while seated on a chair, although I had occasions
when I was growing up to visit relatives in Pampanga, and we ate at a table
that rose only a few inches from the floor. Coming from various traditions
and practices of eating, our class discussed the depth of meaning that is in
the words dulog, dumulog, hapag and dulang . We discovered that these
words and their equivalent in the different dialects as words and images
carry the dimension of invitation. And that the objects hapag and dulang
with or without food on them are themselves symbols of welcome. We
talked about how, in many homes with our without tables, even now with
the exorbitant cost of food and the diminishing nutrition of our people, the
circle of folk around our food could still make space for one or two more
without prior notice. Some of us, who grew up eating on the floor, shared
the depth of meaning that has that eating at a table does not, and why that
was sacred and even mystical. Our class also differentiated between eating
with utensils and eating with our bare hands, and why, from the depths of
our beings, we knew the difference between slicing bread and breaking
bread. Our class, my colleague and I and our students together, realized
that our words, the fellowship around our meals, our attitude toward food
and the handling of food meant a world of difference to our understanding
and practice of communion, community, food, water, the issue of hunger
and thirst and our faith in God as Creator and Provider. We learned that
they impact our understanding of mission and evangelism, ecumenism and
ministry, and our stewardship of creation’s integrity.
So, the questions that the sailors asked in confronting Jonah are really very
important questions. They are very important at whatever level we reflect
upon them, because in the end, they have to do with our faithfulness to
God and our stewardship of the culture, background and identity God has
given us. They have to do with the “primal” ways we think and do
theology. They also have to do with our “occupation” or “business” or what
we do with who we are and what we believe.
These questions which the sailors ask Jonah have become even more
important and urgent—nay, they have become life-and-death questions in
our day of globalized poverty. Studies show that the structures of the
global economy have fundamentally changed since the early 1980s.
Leading financial institutions, notably the International Monetary Fund and
the World Bank, have forced Third World and, since 1989, Eastern European
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countries to facilitate these changes. The new financial order “feeds on
human poverty and the destruction of the environment, generates social
apartheid, encourages racism and ethnic strife and undermines the rights of
women.” The so-called “reforms” or changes restore colonial patterns,
hinder national planning and meaningful democracy. They undermine
programs that benefit the general population in the areas of health,
housing, and education, while establishing the framework for a world of
growing inequality, with a large majority consigned to suffering and despair
in the interests of narrow and small sectors of privilege and power (see
The Globalization of Poverty: Impacts of IMF and World Bank Reforms by
Michel Chossudovsky).
In the Philippines, there is a new awakening in our churches and our
communities (and also in our seminary) that these developments or
“misdevelopments” are by no means inevitable. In fact, there is a growing
conviction that the trend could and should be reversed. And it would
require a dedicated struggle and a hope that is rooted in our worship of the
God of Jonah, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land.
One of the most devastating of the problems facing the Philippines today is
destructive mining. In 1995, the Mining Act was passed. In 1997, it was
questioned by the B’laan Tribal Association because of provisions within it
that virtually allow full foreign control of mining in the country. On January
27, 2004, the Supreme Court voted in favor of the petitioners, but reversed
its ruling only eleven months later, on December 1, 2004.
According to the research think-tank IBON, the country’s poverty estimate
has reached a staggering 88% as of 2003. To address this crisis, the
administration has taken on an entire set of tax measures which strike at
the poorest of consumers. It embraced trade liberalization even as this kills
the livelihood of Filipino farmers, leaving them perpetually plagued by debt.
This means that when you go to the groceries and even to the town
markets, you find vegetables and fruits produced overseas, which are priced
lower than those which are locally produced. In the short term, this seems
good, but overall, and in the long term, destructive of the entire economy
and the nation as a whole. There is no protection for our farmers. The
administration also liberalized and revitalized what is a very serious and
frightening threat, especially to the indigenous communities: the mining
industry.
Many studies show that reliance on extractive industries, particularly
mining, does not necessarily translate into economic growth. The
environmental damage, which is extremely difficult to quantify, could cost
even more than the revenue gained from mining. Because of destructive
mining, health has become a primary concern. Tailings and residues from
mining operations including cyanide which is used to extract gold from ore
has seeped into the springs, rivers and water supplies of our people causing
serious illness and death particularly among the children.
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Section 75 of the Mining Act, the provision on Easement Rights, allows the
company to remove any obstacle to its operations, including people. For
instance, despite their Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title, which President
Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo herself granted to the Subanon tribe of Mt.
Canatuan, Siocon, Zamboanga del Norte, the tribe has been served eviction
notices to give way to the operations of Toronto Ventures Incorporated, a
Canadian mining firm. The prioritization of the interests of foreign
corporations over the rights of our own people is an affront to the whole
nation. The issue has become that of national patrimony. Filipinos are
being evicted from their own land.
There is a bill asking for the repeal of the Mining Act. There is also a
movement for national industrialization and the protection of the people’s
rights and the best interests of the Filipino people, particularly people of the
indigenous communities. But apparently, the State (the Philippine State) is
determined to crush these initiatives, because at the end of the first quarter
of the year 2005 alone, 30 civilians have been murdered, 17 of them
activists directly identified with progressive parties, organizations and
churches. Military and paramilitary groups have been consistently
implicated in such atrocities. And yet, the government has remained silent.
Instead, it has stepped up attacks against progressive groups, labeling
them as terrorists, in keeping with the US “war on terror”.
In the story, Jonah is asked by the sailors, “What business are you in?” Or
“What are you about” or “Or what do you do?” Or “What is your
occupation?”, when Jonah was asked, “Where do you come from?” “What is
your country?” “Who are your people?” or “Of what people are you?”, his
reply is, “ I am a Hebrew, and I worship the Lord God of heaven, who
made the sea and the dry land.” What would be our reply to these
questions today, this morning, as we assemble here?
In the Philippines, within the seminary and in our churches, we are
concerned not only with the question of identity and the work we do, which
in itself is a very crucial question. We are also concerned with how we may
equip, train and educate the members of our churches for the mission of
making a truly Filipinized and contextualized Christianity a redeeming grace
for our people in the midst of their dire situation and at the same time a
realization or concretization of our prayer that God’s Reign, God’s Kingdom
of peace with justice may come to the Philippines and to all the peoples of
the world. On the ground level, this means that we need to be intentional
about breaking the walls that have perpetrated the victimization of our
minds, and our hearts and our souls so that we may be liberated to create a
society and a world that is enabled, ennobled and free.
God is after Jonah to break open his mind and heart, so that he may speak
the word of warning that could convert Nineveh. God is after Nineveh so
that Nineveh may turn from its evil and cruel ways. And right this very
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moment, God is upon us so that God may form us, free and liberate us,
equip and enable us to be truly in mission and ministry in our day—locally,
cross-culturally, globally and internationally. The evils we face today are
borderless. We will also need works of love and justice that know no
boundaries.
Now, let me insert here an important “by the way”. If you are like me, you
will have pushed to the back of your minds and hearts the significance of
the captain and sailors, because in the story they are neither Jonah nor
Nineveh and therefore do not occupy center stage in the story. But we
worship the God of Jonah, and therefore everyone in the periphery is
actually in the center of the stage. No one, no one is marginalized. Quiet
obviously, the story of Jonah would not turn the way it does if the captain
and the sailors were not aboard the ship and do not have their roles to play
within Jonah’s story. Our fault would be to underrate or underestimate the
importance of the lives of the captain and the sailors and limit their
significance to simply being mere instruments in the hands of God for the
welfare of Jonah or Nineveh. The corrective to that is to take on the
challenge to believe, because we cannot otherwise, that the captain and the
sailors have their own respective life stories which are just as rich as
Jonah’s or as the life story of any one in the city of Nineveh, and that each
of these life stories is indelibly written in the heart of God. In some ways,
we are fortunate that we know very little if any at all about the captain and
the sailors. They are to us a mystery and will always be a mystery. I trust,
nevertheless, that you sense—nay, that you are fascinated with the beauty
of the mystery that the captain is and the sailors are as you read the story.
There are more people in this world who are mystery in this sense than
people that we claim we know or understand. The captain and the sailors
and many people in this world are not our “regular” sort of people. On the
contrary, they break all our stereotypes. The story of Jonah teaches us not
only to accept but to truly welcome people like the captain and the sailors,
who break our narrow understanding of what it means to be religious or
spiritual or even ecumenical or even what it means to be human. Their
humanity and their faith witness to a God, who is always grander, greater,
and bigger than all the descriptions we have of God thus far. Interestingly
enough, aboard the ship the captain and the sailors are signs of God’s
presence during very hard times although they do not fit our own
expectations or imaginations of how God may be present in our lives. We
probably wonder, “How could people like them, who raise too many
questions in our minds about what it means to be good or religious or
faithful or human, be witnesses to God’s presence?” Ah, but they are, and
they do. People like that do assure us not only of God’s presence but also
of God’s promise during hard times.
The story of Jonah teaches us not to dread mystery and destroy mystery
even if only in our minds simply because we cannot understand it or place it
snugly in the structure of the way we think. It teaches us rather to honor
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mystery, to accept mystery, to allow space for mystery, and even to
celebrate and love the mystery that people are. The story of Jonah also
tells us the truth that the lives of the captain and the sailors and all people
who are like them in the world are carefully and ever compassionately being
formed in the hands of God right this very moment just as ours are, and
that if we are to hear God speak in our day, we will have to hear God speak
through their lives.
But we are getting ahead of ourselves. We are not quite done yet. The
story of Jonah tells us a few more things that God does to break open our
hearts and minds and make space within them for other peoples, especially
our enemies.
CHAPTER 1-3: THE QUIET REST APPROACH OR GOD TELLS US TO REST
AND BE QUIET
In the entire story, God speaks to Jonah directly only a few times: (1)
chapter 1:2 (2) chapter 3:1-2 (3) 4:4, 9, 10-11. The rest of the time, God
is quiet and listens very patiently, and thinks and acts. God makes a strong
wind to blow and a bad storm to come up. God sends a big fish to swallow
Jonah. God makes a vine to grow up to shade Jonah’s head and protect
him from the sun one day. The next day, God sends a worm to chew on
the vine. The same day, God sends a scorching wind as the sun beats
down on Jonah’s head. Overall, God is assertive, but not aggressive and
hostile.
We find the same pattern of behavior on the part of God as God relates to
Nineveh. Once Jonah has announced the warning to Nineveh, God waits
and thinks and watches as Nineveh repents.
God uses the element of time (chapter 1:17). Jonah is inside the fish for
three days and three nights. Jonah’s warning (chapter 3:4) to the people of
Nineveh is: “Forty days from now, Nineveh will be destroyed!” God allows
forty days for Nineveh’s repentance, although the people of Nineveh seem
to believe God’s message as soon as they hear it.
Finally, God uses rest. Jonah actually has three opportunities to rest: the
first is below the deck of the ship where indeed he falls asleep. Many of us
would almost, by reflex, begrudge Jonah this time to sleep, despite the fact
that we all know what it is like to be running and frantic and to feel angry
and exhausted. Of course, we identify with the crew as they pray and panic
as the ship threatens to break into pieces, so we too, like the captain
wonder what in the world Jonah is doing sleeping below the deck of the
ship as the storm rages and the wind beats upon the ship. Of course, we
also know that it was time Jonah got up. There is really nothing debatable
about that. But just the same, first Jonah needs to sleep.
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The second is the entire chapter 2 when he was inside the belly of the fish.
In the belly of the fish, we know that Jonah can do nothing but wait and
rest, speak and pray to God. Everything else has to stop.
The third is in chapter 4, when we do not know exactly how long or how
many days, Jonah rests under the shelter he builds as he waits to see what
would happen to Nineveh. As he waits, there was nothing to do but rest.
We know, of course, that all these times are followed by times of reckoning
directly with God or with God through the crew of the ship and is true in the
earlier part of the story. It would be unfair for God to confront or even talk
seriously with Jonah when he is too out of sorts to make any sense or too
tired to speak much less think especially on a subject that has to do with
the mission of his life and the salvation of a whole city of people. God is
assertive, but not cruel. So, it seems that all this rest is planned and may I
say, providential. Rest is a requisite element in God’s understanding and
practice of spirituality. It is a provision of God’s care during hard times and
at all times, especially for overfilled lives. Yes, it is a sign of God’s presence
and promise that now and always, God is and will be in charge.
When we rest, “we claim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more
peace, and reflect it towards others. And the more peace there is in us, the
more peace there will also be in our troubled world” (Ette Hillesum, a Dutch
woman, who was a victim of the Nazi concentration camps, p. 85, Sabbath
by Wayne Muller).
Rest is important because as long as we don’t rest, we are destructive and
cruel and continue to be destructive and cruel to ourselves and to others.
Incidentally, the character for busy in Chinese writing, which the Koreans
and the Japanese also use literally means to destroy one’s heart. If we are
too busy, we forget what is important. Interestingly enough, the same
components of the character for busy in Chinese writing, are used to
indicate forgetfulness or distractedness. Both mean the destruction of one’s
heart. We rest to discover or rediscover our identity, reorder our priorities,
gain new perspectives, look back with gratitude, and look forward with
hope. (Openings by Larry Peacock). Rest gives us time for soul work, for
putting ourselves in the presence of the awesome and challenging God, and
for receiving our instructions for continuing on the path of Christ.
CHAPTER 4:10-11 FINALLY, GOD DRAWS ATTENTION TO THE PLIGHT OF
THE CHILDREN AND THE ANIMALS
We have reached a time in the media coverage of “children” that the word
“children” or the image of children no longer moves people, draws attention
or drums up support. Was there a tendency even in the time of Jonah for
people to get tired of the word children and of children themselves that the
writer of the story has to refer to them in another way—the “more than a
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hundred twenty thousand people who do not know their right hand from
their left?” We know this much, in the anger, vengefulness and bigotry of
Jonah, Jonah fails to even imagine that among the Ninevites whom he
wishes destroyed are children. He actually forgets about the children.
Consequently, God has to use the power of imagination to raise the children
to the level of Jonah’s consciousness and make space for them in his heart.
God asks Jonah, “Don’t you care that I care?” Or, “Should I not be
concerned?” The problem with Jonah, the problem of Jonah is a lack or
undersupply of moral imagination. And Jonah’s problem is the crisis in our
day.
As my mind worked on this portion of the Bible study, I was listening to an
interview with the Philippine Secretary of Education over the radio. Among
the statistics he gave were these: For every 100 children who should enter
first grade this year, only 98 will be in school. Of these 98 children only 74
will reach fourth grade. Of the 74, only 61 will reach sixth grade and
graduate from the elementary school. Of the 61 children who are
elementary school graduates, only 58 will be in first year high school. Of
the 58, only 34 will graduate from high school. If this is happening with
the children’s schooling, imagine what is happening in their homes, the
hunger, the health situation of the children. Imagine the increasing crime
rates in their neighborhoods.
We ask why the children are always the victims of the greed, arrogance,
irresponsibility and cruelty of adults? In a poster about children, I found
these words: “If children live in hostility, they learn to be violent. If
children live in acceptance and friendship, they learn to find love in the
world.” The lesson is clear: in hard times, care especially for the children.
God is present in the children. The peace and healing of our communities
and the survival of our earth community rely upon whether we can take
care of the children.
Just as the story of Jonah comes to a close (as opposed to coming to an
end, which it does not), the writer adds another irony. He juxtaposes
children and animals. God says, “And should I not be concerned about
Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty
thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also
many animals?” The writer of the story surely knows that children are the
only people in the world who would not wish that anyone or anything be
destroyed, especially the animals, and that includes insects and all creeping
and slithering creatures that may fascinate the children themselves but
scare the living daylights out of them. Children and destruction do not go
together. Any picture or image of children against a background of
destruction is sinful and cruel. One of my colleagues, Reeve Velunta, has a
son who is around 6 years old. One day, he asked him, “Ian, why did God
send the flood?” Ian replied, “So that God could wash away bad people.”
Reeve asked, “But why would God want to wash away bad people?” Ian
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replied, “So that they could go to heaven, and so that God could teach them
to be good.”
Other thoughts came to mind later as I reflected on this part of the Bible
study. They are as follows: The children are a continuing mystery in their
power to move and change us if we allow them. If we know what to do
with the children, we know what to do with the world. If we make children
our priorities, we will be fighting for the right causes. We will be true lovers
and makers of peace. If we can imagine a different future for the children,
we can imagine a different life for all.
CHAPTER 1:4-5A, 8A, 11-15; 3:6-8; 4:11 GOD WILLS OR DESIRES THAT
OUR FORMATION INCLUDE OUR STEWARDSHIP OF CREATION
One of the most impressive features of the Story of Jonah is that human
formation is linked to the redemption of creation, and that somehow human
irresponsibility and human turmoil in all its forms is mirrored in the chaos of
the environment. In chapter 1 verse 4, God hurls a great wind upon the
sea, and such a mighty storm comes upon the sea that the ship threatens
to break up. In real life, God creates and continues to create nature,
including ourselves, in such a way that if we are negligent of it or
destructive of it, it gets back at us with destructive force. If there is chaos
within our lives, it gets reflected in the chaos without. In the Philippines,
we hope that we are beginning to learn the hard lessons we should learn
from what happened in Leyte, Quezon, Aurora, and Davao in relation to
indiscriminate logging, whether legal or illegal, only during the last few
months.
In chapter 3 verses 6-9, there is a holistic understanding of nature that
encompasses human beings and animals together. The assumption is that
if human beings repent, animals should repent as well. The healing of one
also means the healing of the other. The restoration of human beings and
the animals go together. In reality, nature, and that includes human beings,
groans in travail because of human destructiveness. In chapter 4, verse 11,
people who do not know their right hand from their left—that is, the
children, and many animals are written in juxtaposition, because the land
and sea, their lives and their future are intertwined. I like the signs all over
Las Vegas, “Do not Destroy the Crust.” I take it that the crust protects the
desert and the ecological balance of the desert. So let us not destroy the
crust and whatever else we should not destroy for the sake of the children.
In the Philippines, we are beginning to celebrate whatever process of
healing the Pasig River has undergone. Sagip (or Save) Pasig Movement, a
ten-year old community based Non-Governmental Organization spearheads
the program of saving Pasig River. It gives Dangal (Honor) Awards to firms
that are conscious about their responsibilities to the environment, and the
Lason (Poison) Awards to companies found to be polluting the air and
waterways. Jollibee, for example, was given a Lason award one year, and
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the next year was voted Most Improved Company. SM Centerpoint
Received the same awards in different years. So there’s no more poison in
Pasig River but domestic sewage is the problem. “Toby (Wigberto) R.
Tanada, Jr., who is one of the mainstays of the movement, says, “I think
there’s an environmentalist in each individual. Who would not want to
breathe clean air and drink clean water? But you have to wake up that
environmentalist within.” (Sunday Inquirer Magazine May 8, 2005, p.4).
That is just as challenging as waking Jonah up and getting him to get his
act together, isn’t it?
So, Do We Have a Right to Be Angry?
One of the most difficult questions related to our Christian formation is what
to do with anger. In fact, the question which God asks of Jonah comes
even before what to do with anger—that is, whether Jonah has a right to be
angry at all. (twice—in Chapter 4 verses 4 and 9). And of course, the
answer that the story of Jonah gives in reply to that question is that Jonah
has no right to be angry that God, in the end, does not destroy Nineveh.
Jonah has the right to be angry at Nineveh’s cruelty, but he has no right to
be so angry as to wish that Nineveh be destroyed. He has no right to be
cruel and evil like Nineveh even if only on the level of his heart and mind.
In April I traveled to the Cordilleras, specifically to Malicbong, Abra to
celebrate Cordillera Day with thousands of people from all over the
Philippines and from the Taiwan, the UK, the US, Canada, Australia and
Germany. We went to there to commemorate the martyrdom twenty-five
years ago of Macliing-Dulag, a tribal chieftain of the Butbut tribe and a
staunch advocate against the World Bank-funded Chico Dam project, which
would have wiped out hundreds of villages along the Chico River. He was
Soldiers of the Philippine Army’s 4th Infantry Division shot him. To this very
day, his fight continues, as the convictions he held remain relevant to
Philippine society. I asked the two nuns, Sisters Genny and Rosario, who
were traveling on the same jeepney with me and colleagues and students of
mine from the seminary: Is it okay to be angry? Their immediate reply
was, “Yes, definitely. But we cannot be hostile. We cannot be cruel. We
cannot be destructive.” A writer friend of mine puts it this way: “God
desires that we share God’s righteous indignation and to let our hearts be
stirred to love, our thoughts turned into pleas for justice, and our intentions
shaped into acts of compassion.” (Openings by Larry Peacock).
So I pass that on to you, to all of us now gathered here. There are many
things that happen around us that should make us angry. Let us be angry.
But we cannot be angry and destructive.
That sounds like a simple advice, but it is actually easier to hear than to put
into practice. Our problem is the problem of Jonah. He knows the God of
mercy but he is having a tough time being merciful. He worships the God
of heaven, the maker of the sea and the dry land, but his heart has space
only for his own people. Jonah and we in our day could all learn from the
people of Nineveh and their king (what unlikely teachers). Let us take note
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that in the story of Jonah, change begins with the people, and people begin
to change. The people of Nineveh repent first, and then inspire their king
to change. Like the people of Nineveh, we can believe in the message of
the God of compassion and kindness, set a time when we can go without
eating, and wear sackcloth or whatever the equivalent of these actions of
may be in our day. True formation and change do begin at this level, at our
level. We, and especially the rulers and kings in our day—oh yes, even the
rulers and leaders of our Christian nations and Christian institutions can
learn from the king of Nineveh. When the news of the people’s repentance
reaches him, he rises from his throne, removes his robe, covers himself with
sackcloth and sits in ashes. We can learn from what he tells his own
people: “You must pray to the Lord God with all your heart and stop being
sinful and cruel.” In the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible: “All
shall turn from their evil ways and from all the violence that is in their
hands.” (3:8)
Jonah is right: God would not destroy the enemy. God is a kind and merciful
God, and God is very patient. God always shows love. And God does not
want to punish anyone, not even foreigners.
But then, what do we make of the choice which many of our people in the
Philippines make—that is, to take up arms for their love for the Kingdom of
God and for their ardent desire that a just society be established, a real and
concrete Kingdom of God here on earth. They take up arms to protect and
defend their families, their heritage, their culture and their land. They say
that it is possible to fight without hate or anger if they are only defending
themselves. Is there space in our hearts for those who make this choice?
We dream, or think, or pray or wish that someday we will no longer find the
conflict and war, the violence and the struggle that we find in the Philippines
where poor soldiers, who are paid to do their jobs, are having to kill people
who are poor like they are and vise versa. It is horrible that there are dead
and wounded in our struggle to live. Instead, there will be an abundance of
schools and hospitals and clinics for everyone, adequate and nutritious food
for everyone, art and entertainment, and a home for everyone—where
cultures and people’s way of life are protected and respected. One of these
days, and hopefully soon, there will be a worldwide reconstruction of our
hearts and minds, a revolution in our values and lifestyles, and a radical
change in our paradigms and visions of progress and development, and
abundant life, and even in our understanding of peace and justice. Let us
pray that beginning today, there will be a new kind of formation throughout
the earth, a formation based upon the accepting and welcoming and
inclusive, hospitable, compassionate and merciful spirit of the God of Jonah.
In Matthew 12:39, Jesus was asked by the Pharisees and the teachers of
the law of Moses to show them a sign from heaven. If you and I were
made the same request today, what kind of a sign from heaven would we
show? Jesus’ own reply to that request was this: “You want a sign because
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you are evil and won’t believe! But the only sign you will get is the sign of
the prophet Jonah.
As the story of Jonah closes, God says to Jonah, “You are concerned about
a vine that you did not plant or care of, a vine that grew up in one night and
died the next. In that city of Nineveh there are more than a hundred
twenty thousand people who do not know their right hand from their left,
and many animals are there as well. Don’t you think I should be concerned
about that great city?”
God is still after Jonah and us. God’s presence and promise accompany us
throughout our lives.
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Pagbabalik tanaw sa sariling “loob” tungo sa pakikipagkapwa-taong
di nagtatago sa maskara ng pakikibagay kundi pagpapakatotoo. Samahan
ninyo akong mamasyal sa bahagi ng aking karanasan at tumanaw sa mga
pangyayaring nakaimpluwensya sa aking pagkatao. Ito ang mga aninong
sumusunod sa aking paglalakbay at pagte-teyolohiya.
ANG SÁYA NI LOLA
By Aileen Isidro Carbonell
Gawi ni lola ang magterno ng bistida at sáya. Karaniwan, ang kanyang
bistida ay bulaklakin na may “rapols” sa balikat at kulot na linya sa bandang
dibdib ng damit, na patitingkarin ng puting sinulid na sa paligid ng linya’y
nakalilip. Karaniwan ng may dalawang bulsa sa harapan o kaya’y tagiliran
ang mga sáya ni lola. Pinaghahalinhinan niya ang paggamit ng mga ito base
sa kanyang damit bawat araw.
Si Lola ay tindera sa palengke noong araw. Pero di siya pinalad na makabili
ng p’westo sa palengke sa mahal ng bentahan. Kaya napilitan s’yang
maglako. Malinaw sa aking ala-ala ang palagian kong pangungulit sa kanya,
na ako ay isama sa paglalako ng paninda sa karatig bayan. Hindi ako
nabibigo! Madaling araw pa lamang gising na kami ni lola. Naghahanda sa
aming paghango ng paninda. Pagdating namin sa palengke, iniiwan n’ya
ako sa tabi ng isang tindahang kanya akong matatanaw habang s’ya’y
nakikipagtawaran sa kanyang mga suki sa isdaan.
Minsan siya’y aking tinanong bakit dinodoblehan pa n’ya ng sáya ang
kanyang bistidang may bulsa na naman sa gilid. Kung lagayan lang ng pera
o anumang sagabal sa kamay, sa tingin ko’y sapat na ang bulsa ng bistida.
Ang tugong aking nakuha mula sa kanya ay “Apo kailangan ko ito, higit sa
inaakala mo.”
Ang paglalako ng paninda sa karatig na bayan ang nagiging pang-arawaraw na eksena sa buhay ni lola. Naging pangkaraniwan narin ang sáya sa
istilo ng pananamit n’ya. Ang mga makukulay, bulaklakin, guhit-guhit at
simple n’yang koleksyon ng sáya, dala ay mga ala-alang sa buhay ko’y
mahalaga.
Sa tuwing ako’y pagagalitan sa bahay, si lola ay sisilip at alam kong sa
labasan ay nakikinig. Pinakikinggan niya ang pinapangaral sa akin ng aking
magulang, maging ang mga sagot na aking inuusal. Hanggat salitaan pa
lamang ang nangyayari sa bahay, di siya makikialam, ngunit pumapagitna
na siya kung ang pamalo’y nakaamba na. Minsan nakakaabot naman si lola
bago ang pamalo’y sa puwit ‘ko ay dumata, ngunit karaniwan ay nauunahan
s’ya ng bilis ng kamay ng galit kong Ina.
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Bilang parusa sa aking kasutilan, di ako puwedeng lumabas ng tahanan.
Ang lahat ng gawain sa akin nakaatang, kailangan kong tapusin kahit kalaro
ko’y nagkakasiyahan. Pero may paraan si lolang naiiba. Ipagpapaalam niya
ako sa aking Ina upang samahan s’ya sa pagsisimba. Siyempre di na sila
makakatanggi, samahan pa ng mga paliwag ng lola na sadyang matitindi.
Laging nagsisimba si lola tuwing hapon at ito ang kanyang pagkakataon
upang “i-rewind” sa akin ang nangyari sa maghapon. Habang nasa daan
kanyang iniisa-isa ang mga pangaral ng aking ina, na di ko maintindihan
ang kahulugan pagkat ako’y nabibingi na sa malakas niyang pagsasalita.
Hihimayin ito ni lola at ipauunawa niya sa aking murang isipan hanggang sa
ako naman ang umiyak sa harap niya dahil sa sama ng loob na nadarama.
Sa ganitong pamamaraan ni lola nakikita ko ang aking kamalian ng
malinaw, nadarama ko ang pagmamahal na nakatago sa galit na mga
pangungusap ni Inay, nauunawaan ko ang halaga ng mensaheng nais
iparating ni Inay at nabibigyan ako ng pagkakataong maipahayag ang
damdamin kong ayaw ni Inay na pakinggan.
Hinahayaan ako ni lola na umiyak, maglabas ng sama ng loob, magpahayag
ng pagtatampo at maibulalas ang nararamdaman at iniisip ko. Habang siya
ay nakikinig. Di niya pinagbabawalan ako na magsalita, sapagkat sa
pagkakataong ito, naihahayag ko ang aking kaibuturang okupado ng mga
tanong, sama ng loob at hinanakit. May mga kaisipan akong sa ganitong
pagkakataon ko lang nasasaysay, may mga pagdududang nasasambit at
mga tanong na naiparirinig. Ang puno kong sarili ay lumuluwag,
nagkakaroon ng puwang na di ko namamalayan. Puwang na handang
mapunuan ng bagong kaisipan, paliwanag, pang-unawa at aral na sa
pagkatao ko’y humuhubog at nagpapatatag.
Pag di ko na kayang umiyak pa at mata ko’y pugto na, ang sasabihin ni lola,
“Tapos ka na ba?” Sinyales na ito ng pagkakataon upang magkuwento ng
karanasan niya, ng kanyang pangarap, naisin at pananaw. Habang siya’y
nagkuk’wento, nakatungo lang ako. Nahihiya kasi ako na makita ng mga
taong nagdaraan ang mata kong namamaga at ilong na namumula dahil sa
katatapos ko lang na eksena.
Nakakaaliw ang mga kuwento niya. Mababanaag sa kanyang mga mata ang
sinseridad. Sa mga labi niya, ang matipid na ngiting gumuguhit na animo’y
sumasalamin sa kapanatagan at kakontentuhan sa mga nagawa niyang
desisyon at kapilyahan noong araw. Ang mga puting buhok niya’y sagisag
ng mga nagdaang panahon na sa kanya’y nagdulot ng mga mayayamang
karanasang kanya namang walang takot na ibinabahagi at inaala-ala. Dulot
man minsa’y pagpatak ng luha niya, ang malayang pagdaloy nito sa
kanyang mga pisngi ay dumadalisay sa mga aral ng kanyang buhay,
nagdidilig sa pusong tigang upang muling pasiglahin at patatagin sa
kanyang paglalakbay.
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Mahilig magpasalubong si lola pagkatapos magtinda, ako ang laging nauuna
niyang inaalok. Nagseselos nga minsan ang bunso niyang anak dahil laging
ako ang kanyang unang hinahanap pagkakadating mula sa maghapong
paglalako. Ako ang kanyang kaunaunahang apo kaya ganu’n siguro.
Mula sa bulsa ng kanyang saya doon natatago ang pasalubong niya. Sarisari, tunay na kapanapanabik at nakakatuwa. Ipinaparanya ko ang aking
makukuha sa mga kalarong sa labasa’y nag-aabang na maambunan kahit
kapiraso lamang sa pasalubong ni lola. Higit sa pagkain at laruan, bukang
bibig ng aming pinsan at mga kalaro “ Ang bait naman ng lola mo, sana
ganyan din ang lola ko”. Sa mga katagang ito, napapatingkad ang
pagmamahal ni lolang masagana niyang ibinabahagi at ipinadarama sa mga
anak at apo.
Masarap magluto ni Lola! Kilala siya sa kanyang sabaw bundok (daing o
tinapa ang pangunahing sahog, samahan pa ng sampalok, bunga ng
kamote, labanos at talbos ng kamote bilang pampalasa. Ang istilo ng
pagluluto? Para kang nagsisigang) at inulang (sinigang na hipon na may
gata, talbos ng kamote at sotanghon). Sa kusina siya’y iyong matatagpuan
matapos mabilad sa maghapong paglalako ng kanyang paninda.
Ang lahat ay nakaabang na maihain ang mabangong sabaw na
kapanapanabik at ibahog sa mainit na kanin.
Larawan sa salu-salong inaantabayanan ang di magkamayaw na kwentuhan
sa maghapong karanasan. Saan ako naka pwesto? Nasa ibabaw ako ng
lamesa, gawi ni tatay na buhatin ako at duon ay ilagay, upang di daw maipit
at mapag-iwanan. Mula sa ganitong kalagayan, di malilihim sa akin ang
itsura ng mga mukha ng sa hapag kaina’y dumudulog. Malulutong na halak­
hakan ay kinaiinggitan ng aming mga kapitbahay, kaya’t minsan iyong
mapapansin ang di nila mapigil ang pakikisalo at pakikipag-usyoso.
Maraming kuwento, hinanakit, biro, pangarap, sama ng loob at opinion ang
maririnig. Palitan ng haka-haka at pananaw sa kalalagayang panlipunana,
umiiral na batas na ipinapatupad sa lansangan na nararanasan sa pangaraw-araw na pakikipag-sapalaran.
Si lola ang nagsisilbing tagapamagitan, tampulan ng kakulitan at pang­
aasar. Malaman ang bawat salitang sa kanya’y namumutawi, sa bawat
palitan ng kuro-kuro at opinion na nakatago sa nakatatawa niyang biro.
Natatapos ang usapang ang lahat ay nananabik sa muling pagsasalo-salo at
k’wentuhan.
Gaano man naisin ni lolang ganito ang maging “ending” ng bawat takipsilim
ay sadyang di mangyayari. Ang kanyang sáya ang taguan ng mga natuyong
luhang masaganang dumadaloy sa kanyang mga matang pilit na
tumutunghay sa kabila ng kapagalan sa gitna ng mga unos na sa kanya’y
pansamantalang nananahan.
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Mag-isa niyang itinaguyod ang anim na anak nang ang lolo ay nag-asawa
na ng iba at duon na namalagi. Walang sustento ang sa kamay niya’y
dumapo sa kabila ng kanyang pag-iisa. Ang bawat pagkuyos ng kanyang
palad dala ng galit at pag-aalala ay sa kanyang sáya naibabaling. Ang
bawat kusot at tupi nito ay may ginhawang dala, nakapagpapalaya,
napagbabalingan ng damdaming nagpupumiglas at nangangailangan ng
karamay. Kinailangan niya pansamantalang tumalikod at manahimik,
umiyak, makiramdam, huminga ng malalim, makapag-isa upang magkaroon
ng bagong lakas sa muling pagharap sa problema. Karamay niya sa mga
sandaling ito ng buhay niya ay ang kanyang sáya, na siyang nakakarinig ng
kanyang hinanakit, pagdaing, at nakadarama ng tuhod na nanginginig
ngunit pilit na tumitindig.
Katatagan ang kailangan niyang ipakita sa harapan ng kanyang mga anak
upang kanyang mapanatag ang sitwasyon. Sa kabila nito, maraming beses
ko ring nasaksihan, na habang siya’y nagsasalita’t nangangaral sa harap
nila ay malaya niyang ipinakikita ang pagluha ng mga matang naninindigan
at lumalaban.
Sa aming pamamamasyal at aabutin ng ambon sa daan ang saya ni lola ang
dagli niyang ikukulapa sa akin. Sa tuwing ako’y kanyang mahuhuling
umiiyak, ang kanyang sáya’y daglin nakaagapay, mga luha sa mata ko’y
pagdaka’y pinapalis at dala’y kasiguraduhang di ako nag-iisa at may
handang sa akin ay dumamay.
Ang sáya ni lola tunay na napakarami nang pinagdaanan, marami nang
eksenang nasaksihan. Nadungisan, nabasa, nalamigan, nainitan, nahigaan,
ngunit nananatiling sagisag ng isang babaeng nagdulot ng malawak,
makabuluhang alaala at katangitanging kontribusyon sa mga mahal niya sa
buhay.
Saranggola
Minsang nauwi ako sa probinsyang kinalakihan. Umagaw ng aking pansin
ang mga batang magpapalipad ng saranggola sa isang malawak, luntian at
mahanging kabukiran. Sa di kalayuan matatanaw ang paradahan ng mga
pampasaherong sasakyan. Sa kaliwa naman ay ang pampublikong ospital
ng bayan na malapit sa hangganan ng bayan. Sa bandang likuran ay ang
mga “night clubs” na naglipana sa lugar.
Sa bughaw na langit, duon namamayagpag ang saranggolang yari sa ibat­
ibang materyales. May yari sa tingting, ang iba’y sa kawayan. May pisi ang
gamit at sa iba’y sinulid naman. Kapansin-pansin ang bumabalot na
makukulay na plastik at naglalay na buntot. Karamihan ay balot ng plastik
na mula sa isang kilalang grocery store ng lugar. Samantalang ang iba’y
tela at papel na malalapad.
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Di alintana ng mga bata ang init na dulot ni haring araw. Mayaman, mahirap
duon ay pantay-pantay. Tila baga, napapawi ng simpleng saranggola ang
anumang kapagalan, manapa’y napapalitan ng kasiyahang di mapantayan.
Ang pag-ikot ng mundo’y dagliang tumitigil. Ang sari-sariling alalahanin,
problema at pasanin, pansamantalang napapalis sa gunitang nag-aaliw.
Mga ngiti, tawanan, tulungan, asaran sa paligid ay s’yang nagsisilbing
musika ng pagkakaisa at pagkakaibigan.
Habang aking minamasdan ang matayog na saranggolang sa hangi’y
nakikipaglaban. Mataman kong sinusuri ang batang nakatingala’t may
hawak ng pisi. Bakas sa kanyang mukha ang konsentrasyon, ang
pagnanais na ang angking saranggola’y mamayagpag sa kabila ng
naglipanang balakid o hamon.
Ang hanging, tila sa bata’y nakikipaglaro. Umiihip na animo’y saranggola’y
dinuduro. Mula sa tiwasay nitong paghimo, tatag ng saranggola’y kanyang
sinusubok at nililikot. Ang bata sa ibaba matatag na sumasagupa, nagtitiis,
nakikiramdam sa paligid. Upang dagliang makapagpasya sa posibleng
hakbang na dapat gawin sa pising hawak niya at sumalunga sa panganib na
nakaamba. Kahanga-hanga diba?
Ang bata ay ang indibidual na sa mudong ibabaw ay nakikipagsapalaran.
Tunay na maraming elementong naglipana’t sumusubok sa kanyang
katatagan. Tulad din ng saranggola, sa himpapawid ay rumarampa, ibayong
paghahanda ang dito’y isinasagawa. Ang kanyang itatagal sa ere ay
masusukat sa preparasyong sinabak. Paghahanda’y mahalaga. Kung paano
inihahanda ng tao ang kanyang sarili ay salamin ng itatagal niya sa arina ng
buhay.
Ang batang nagsasaranggola, umuuwing ding luhaan at saranggola’y gulay­
gutay, isama pa ang galit ni nanay, dahil di ny’a nagawa ang utos sa
bahay.Magpapalipas lang ang bata ng magdamag, magmumuni-muni at
maghahanap. Hahanap ng panibagong gamit, at pising matatag upang sa
muling n’yang pagpapalipad ng saranggola’y matiyak niyang tatagal, sa
pagnanais na sa susunod na pag-uwi’y maiba ang awra ng kapaligiran. At
nang maluwag n’yang magampanan ang utos ni nanay sapagkat ang
damadami’y kontento, laban ay naipanalo.
Bumabagsak tayo, marurulay at minsa’y nababalian ng tangkay. Ngunit sa
puso ng isang adbenturero, may paninindigan, may inaasam at
determinadong tao, ang pag-atras sa laban ay di pagkatalo bagkus ay
pagkatuto na nagbibigay daan sa pagsilang ng bagong pag-asa at bagong
kalakasan.
Ito ay pamamaraan din upang masuri ang sarili, kung ang ating ginagawa’y
naaayon nga ba sa tunay nating naisin at ayon sa ating kakayahan. Dahil
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minsan, nadadala tayo ng daluyong ng hanging hatid ay kapahamakan.
Di nga ba kailangan din nating marinig ang tinig sa kaibuturan natin, na
palagiang natatabunan ng ingay ng paligid. Ang sandali para sa bata upang
manahimik ay mahalagang sandali sa kanyang pagkatao. Dito nya naririnig
ang tibok ng kanyang puso, nararamdaman ang kanyang paghinga at
nakikita ang dumi sa kanyang mga paa.
Ang pagdedesisyon ang susunod dito. Desisyong lilikha ng panibagong
karanasan at panibagong kaalaman. Maaaring naaayon sa dati o di kaya’y
bago at tutuklasin pa lamang.
Tulad ng luntiang kaparangan, sa liwanang ng sikat ng araw. Ang buhay ay
maraming anggulong iyong matatanaw. May iba’t ibang pang-agaw ng
eksena. Ang hangi’y umuihip na animo’y matamang nakatingin at nakikinig.
Ang tayog natin ay kanyang susukatin, gagambalain at susubukin. May
saya at lungkot na dala ang bawat takipsilim. Ngunit ang batang batbat ng
pag-asa at pananabik sa bukas, ay payapang matutulog, inihahanda ang
sarili sa bagong hamong dala ng bukangliwayway.
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KANLUNGAN
A FILIPINO PROTOCOL FOR PASTORAL CARE28
By Patrick McDivith
INTRODUCTION
Two years ago, Union Theological Seminary offered Kanlungan (sanctuary,
safe haven, or refuge) to over a hundred internal refugees, Mangyans,
indigenous Filipinos, who fled from the harsh militarization in Mindoro. They
stayed for 14 months. This brief study is based on the writer’s immersion
among the members of this Kanlungan community. The key objective of
this study is to propose a Filipino protocol for doing pastoral care among
Mangyans drawing insights from the cultures of the counselor and
counselee/s.
HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE ON COUNSELING
Colonization has brought about drastic changes in the life and cultures of
most Asians, particularly Filipinos. Spain brought the Roman Catholic faith
that focused on the spiritual aspects of life, preparation for life after death,
veneration of the saints and spiritual direction expressed in Western
spirituality. Spain shaped a consciousness among the “Indios” focused on a
culture of religious ceremonies, town fiestas, veneration of saints, and an
elite and parochial education dedicated to the natives’ full participation in
church and Latin liturgies. “All these put together set the foundation for
contemporary Filipino attitudes of: anti-divorce, anti-birth control, anti­
abortion, tolerance for gambling like bingo social for charitable purposes,
and love for pomp, power, and festivities (LR. Rosales, 1989).
The United States of America introduced health and sanitation, a capitalistbased system of government, and primary, secondary and collegiate public
education grounded on English aimed to “civilize” the natives and to
promote academic white-collar occupations such as in medicine, law,
commerce, engineering, and public administration.
Spain introduced counseling in the Philippines as part of their mission goal
in the spiritual formation of the “Indios.” American Protestantism
introduced pastoral care counseling as a vocation and the guidance
counselor as a permanent staff in the public school system.
In sum seem, Spain, America, and other Asian countries, especially Japan,
influenced the Filipino way of life. Those who were not much influenced by
colonialism, or very little of it, were the cultural minorities of the
Philippines, like the Mangyans.
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Thus, as this proposal argues, many rational assumptions, methods, tools,
techniques of pastoral counseling derived from the West and other foreign
cultures cannot be used with Filipino clients from among cultural minorities
or indigenous peoples of the Philippines. They are often described as being
contemplative, sensitive, and able to discover truth without resorting to
reason.
IMPLICATIONS OF MANGYAN’S VALUE AND BELIEF SYSTEM TO PASTORAL
CARE AND COUNSELING
The protocol I am proposing is grounded on the concept and practice of
covenant. Kanlungan or sanctuary presupposes a mutual relationship, a
covenant relationship, between those seeking sanctuary and those offering
it. Kanlungan is a “home” where those who begin as strangers are led to be
“at home” with each other.
As such, Kanlungan is a dynamic educating process of the whole persons or
groups or communities. It covers the experiential, intellectual, rational and
responsibility aspects of individual and collective consciousness. Moreover,
fundamental to Kanlungan is the Filipino cultural value of trust in the
Creator, the Almighty, Bathala, and Life-giving God (Pananalig sa Maykapal).
The following are, therefore, key community values and belief systems that
can be adopted in counseling with and among Mangyans, values both the
Mangyans and Filipino Christians hold dearly:
Social scientists, mostly from the West point to the Filipino term “Bahala
na” as proof of the people’s fatalistic attitude. But most Filipinos interpret
the term to mean “ being in God’s hand,” echoing the faith affirmation in
John 10:28. Thus “Bahala na” means God’s “malasakit” or God’s concern
for the people.
Filipino communities, indigenous or otherwise, value relationships via such
cultural practices as “paggalang sa mga magulang at matatanda” (respect
for parents and elders), “pagkakasundo” (unity), “pakikibagay”
(adaptation), “pakikipagkapwa-tao” (human relation), at “paghiling sa
Maykapal” (prayer to the Creator), and “malasakit” (empathy).
Mangyans, like many Filipinos, value “pakikipagsangkot,” “bukas-palad” and
“kagandahang-loob” (involvement, generosity, and grace), as well as
“katarungan” (justice), “kapayapaan”(peace), “buhay na masagana”
(abundant life) or “kaginhawahan ng buhay” (peaceful living). For most
Filipinos, shalom means having a small piece of land one can call home
where one can plant rice and vegetables and take care of animals, where
one’s produce is enough to meet a family’s needs and have a little extra to
share around or to barter with.
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Finally, Kanlungan, as a pastoral care protocol celebrates the diverse
meanings and conceptualizations of the Filipino “loob” (inner self) and
“labas” (outside the self). And this celebration, as far as this writer is
concerned, was most experienced immersed in the actual Kanlungan, in the
sanctuary where Mangyans and their hosts shared a safe haven, a “home.”
Each opportunity for immersion with and among members of the Mangyans
at Kanlungan was framed around these questions:
a. How did this experience enable you to appreciate the values,
cultures, language and aspirations of this culture?
b. What new insights did you gain concerning your own cultural
values as a result of this experience?
c. What implications does this experience have for your
understanding of the Gospel and your ministry?
PASTORAL CARE AND COUNSELING OF THE MANGYAN FAMILY
Pastoral care and counseling in the Philippines, especially in the context of
Kanlungan or sanctuary privileges the importance of the primary Kanlungan
or sanctuary in Filipino life—the family.
Relationship among members of both nuclear and extended families are of
major importance among the Mangyans at UTS. High on the list of
relationship issues were marital guidance, marital crisis intervention,
understanding emotions and personality adjustments, in-laws adjustments,
children adjustment, sexual anxieties, and finances.
Among the children, the issues were about safety, schooling, and guidance
in their relationships with other children, health, and, most important then,
the rekindling of trust (as most of the children witnessed their loved ones
murdered or brutalized by militarization). Among youth, we dealt with
development of faith, clarification of their identity and self-worth as
members of an indigenous community and as internal refugees.
For the middle-aged adults and the elderly, we focused on the issues of
value systems and goals in their culture contrasted against the value
systems found in the dominant and dominating culture. More importantly,
these Mangyan elders, feeling safe and secured in the context of the
temporary sanctuary at UTS expressed their “niloloob” (innermost feelings)
of fear, persecution and poverty.
Unlike the disciples of Jesus who did not want to leave the Mountain of
Transfiguration, the Mangyans were so excited to leave UTS. Eventually,
the ultimate goal of the Kanlungan protocol, as a pastoral care and
counseling procedure, was to empower the Mangyan to be returnees: to
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return to their native land, their families, their work, their home; to take
back what The Almighty has given them.
THE KANLUNGAN PROTOCOL AND THE FUTURE
Kanlungan, as a pastoral care protocol, came out of an extended immersion
program with the Mangyans who stayed at UTS for 14 months over two
years ago. Its primary context is sanctuary or kanlungan, a temporary safe
haven, for indigenous peoples; its primary aim, to help empower these
indigenous peoples to return to and retake their homes; its primary dictum,
start where people are and build on what they have.
If kanlungan or sanctuary is to be a safe haven, a refuge for the refugee,
then it should privilege the “visitor.” The counselor, following the Kanlungan
protocol, takes the role of “host” and enacts an “unconditional acceptance
of the counselee” (C. Rogers, 1939). This means celebrating both
difference and similarities between “visitor” and “host.” This means not
falling into condescending and discriminatory comparisons and contrasting
of differences. Eventually, “visitors” and “hosts” start to resonate as the
values and belief systems enumerated earlier show. Mutuality can bring
freedom to both. And an “at home” situation is arrived at, albeit
temporarily. The “visitors” leave but now “visitors” and “hosts,” both
blessed by the experience of covenant, are no longer “strangers” but
“friends.”
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MARTHA’S DISCIPLESHIP: A FEMINIST INTERPRETATION
Based Upon Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza’s Hermeneutical Model
By Antonio Pacudan
INTRODUCTION
One of the trends in theological and biblical studies that need our attention
today is the “feminist movement.” This is the movement that is concerned
with the fact of discrimination, subordination, exploitation and oppression of
women as women. It cuts through class, race, creed, nationality. It is a
global phenomenon. It is not only a personal question, it is also a social
question.1 Broadly, a “feminist” is one who seeks justice and equality for all
people and who is especially concerned for the fate of women – all women
– in the midst of “all people”.2 In terms of the Bible, a feminist is someone
who advocates the liberation of biblical interpretation from patriarchal
domination, and asserts women’s contribution to the history of Christianity.3
This movement is described as a “revolution” in women’s growing
awareness of who they are. And this “is not a problem only for women, but
a profoundly human one”.4 Recognizing then, the woman question is a
human concern, it is therefore, man’s concern as well. It is this interest that
provided this writer with impetus and inspiration to give shape and birth to
the writing of this paper.
Our Christian faith holds that the God whom we have known both in the Old
and New Testaments is the same God of history who journeys and walks
with us, and who calls equally both men and women to continue Christ’s
redeeming love for all times and ages. Hence, this paper focuses on one
biblical woman disciple of Jesus in the New Testament record – Martha.
Surely there are other women disciples of Jesus during the New Testament
period worthy of consideration, but this paper needs to be specific. Martha
is chosen only to portray an example of one feminist interpretation in
biblical studies in the light of women’s struggle against the dehumanizing
effect of patriarchy. Martha is being dealt with in this study in light of the
texts in Luke 10:38-42 and in John 11:1-12:2. The writer assumes that in
the history of biblical interpretation not much positive has been written or
preached about Martha. If ever there is something positive about Martha in
the Lukan and Johannine accounts, why is it not proclaimed? Is it because
our preaching is patriarchal? In the portrayal of Martha in the gospel
according to Luke, is there a patriarchal and androcentric purpose involved?
And in the Johannine gospel it is perhaps puzzling for men that Martha was
the first human being to hear and speak one of the central truths of our
Christian faith: Jesus “is the resurrection and the life” and “the Messiah”
and those who believe in him will never die (John 11:25). Martha expressed
her faith in the resurrection in the last days and declared to Jesus her faith
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that he is “the Messiah (Christ), the Son of God, the one coming into the
world” (John 11:27). But Peter’s confession (although silenced by Jesus in
Mark) became foundational in our Christian church’s preaching and
teaching. Martha’s confession has not been given priority by the line of male
scholars, theologians, preachers and teachers of the Bible. This writer
assumes that Martha, like her male disciple counterparts, could be an
exemplary disciple of Jesus during the early Christian period of history.
However, in the gospel of Luke Martha appears to be “unspiritual” unlike her
very “spiritual” sister Mary. Traditionally, preachers and teachers have
preached and taught much against Martha’s “unspirituality” in Luke.
The need for an informed study and reflection on the Scriptures, specifically
on the biblical texts concerning Martha (Luke 10:38-42 and John 11:1-12:2)
may enable and help us discern how the Bible was written, in what socio­
cultural perspective it was written, and how it could be interpreted in the
perspective of women. Can the two different accounts about Martha help us
discern how we read the Bible in general and the New Testament in
particular so that they become “life-giving for women and for men, a
witness that opens access to some truth that is freeing all” for our times?5
The tool used to do a feminist interpretation of the texts is Elisabeth
Schussler Fiorenza’s hermeneutics, since we do not have one unified
feminist reading of the Bible. Far from being expert, the writer struggles to
apply Fiorenza’s biblical hermeneutics.
Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza is chosen among others not only because she
is a famous articulate scholar in the field of New Testament and Christian
Origins in feminist perspective, but because the writer found her model
more relevant in our situation than other models.6 In the case of Philippine
culture and in religion it is still true that we live in a situation where most
men exercise some form of control over women. Unless we use appropriate
hermeneutics we would hardly be able to come to the full recognition of
women’s vital role and place in our world as co-equal with men since the
beginning of creation. To this effect the model of Fiorenza is particularly
helpful in the quest to participate in human struggle of women in the
Philippines today.
However, the writer argues that this reading is only one of the many
readings of the Marthan texts. It is not “the” reading or interpretation. It is
“a” reading from a particular feminist view or lens. This reading does not
claim to have superiority over other readings. There are other readings of
the texts on Martha that make sense to readers and are liberating for
humanity and creation.
II. THE BIBLICAL-HERMENEUTICAL MODEL OF ELISABETH SCHUSSLER
FIORENZA
The primal purpose of the feminist critical hermeneutics of Elisabeth
Schussler Fiorenza is none other than “to explore and asses whether and
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how Scripture can become an enabling, motivating resource and
empowering authority in women’s struggle for justice, liberation, and
solidarity.”7
E. S. Fiorenza’s model is “understood as critical movements that are
repeated again and again in the dance of biblical interpretation.”8 Their
application to the biblical text goes on not linearly but circularly. The person
engaged in those strategic movements of interpretation is best imaged as a
“dancer.”
First, a hermeneutics of suspicion. The two ingredients of this method are:
conciousness-raising and systematic and systemic analysis. This strategy
rests on the insight that all biblical texts are articulated in grammatically
masculine language – a language which embedded in a patriarchal culture,
religion and society, and which was canonized, interpreted, and proclaimed
by a long line of men.9 This hermenuetical model plays the role of a
detective. It tries to traverse the trailways and highways of the texture of
the text in order to detect its hidden intent which “dewomanizes” or makes
the women less than human beings. It seeks for the lost tradition and
visions of liberation among the androcentric languages, translations and
interpretive models.
Secondly, a hermeneutics of remembrance. This model cannot take
grammatically masculine, allegedly generic language and “texts about
women” at face value. It reads texts as an intimation that much of what
remains is submerged in androcentric historical consciousness. This
hermeneutics can be likened to the activity of a quilt-maker who stitches all
surviving historical patches together into a new overall design. This strategy
could be likened to a sea-rescuer of a submerged ship. The rescuer tries to
recover the remnants of the ship. In a biblical sense, there are many
historical-divine contributions of women in the biblical world but they were
submerged in the sea of androcentric-patriarchal reality. The rescuer has to
get what s/he could get as samples to be re-grouped to form a formidable
historical picture of women’s history and “place them in the center of
biblical community and theology.”10
Thirdly, a hermeneutics of proclamation/evaluation. This strategy insists
that texts which reinscribe patriarchal relations of domination and
exploitation must not be affirmed and appropriated as “Word of God.” It
resembles the activity of a health inspector who tests all food and medicine
for possible harmful ingredients. It evaluates and theologically assesses all
canonical texts to determine how much they engender patriarchal
oppression and/or empower us in the struggle for liberation.11 It announces
that which is not uplifting to women and at the same time that which could
empower them to live as children of God.
Finally, a hermeneutics of liberative vision and imagination/ ritualization/
actualization. This method seeks to actualize and dramatize biblical texts
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differently. Creative re-imagination employs all women’s creative powers to
celebrate and make present the suffering, struggles and victories of our
biblical fore-sisters and fore-mothers. This method utilizes all kinds of
artistic media to elaborate and enhance the textual remnants of liberating
visions. It re-tells biblical stories from a different perspective and amplifies
the emancipatory voices suppressed in biblical texts. Thus, the
hermeneutics of creative actualization, as a religious activity, attempts to
tell the story of biblical women’s oppression and liberation in order to
liberate women who are still being oppressed, to recover the wholeness of
humanity, and to break down the patriarchy, both within the church and
society today.12
III. THE “DANCE” OF BIBLICAL INTERPRETATION FROM A FEMINIST
PERSPECTIVE: LUKE 10:38-42 AND JOHN 11:1-12:2
1. Luke 10:38-42, Martha: Biblical Model for Women’s Struggle Today
In this text, Martha was portrayed as periespato peri pollen diakonian
(v.40). The use of the general Greek term diakonian/diakonein suggests
that the text is not directly referred to as “distractedness” about a meal.
The Greek word diakonia is used in the New testament to mean “waiting at
table,” “provision for bodily sustenance,” “discharging service in genuine
love,” “certain obligations in the community.” The apostolic office is
“service,” according to Romans 11:13; 2 Cor. 4:1; 6:3f; 11; Acts 1: 17,25;
20:24. So, too, is the office of the evangelist (II Tim. 4:5).13
The text was addressing an issue during the time of Luke about the
competing roles of discipleship: diakonia – service and listening to the word
of the Lord.14 But Luke situated the story in the ministry of the historical
Jesus for legitimizing purposes. A hermeneutics of suspicion points out that
the text pits sister against sister (v.40). Martha and Mary are pictured as
not on good terms with each other. This reflects an androcentric nature of
the text. There is a dualistic portrayal of an opposing life-style. Because of
this scenario between the sisters, the text is projected as Luke’s
pronouncement story. He utilizes “antagonistic characterization in order to
make a point and to espouse behavioral norms.”15 The text inscribed the
oppositions of rest/movement; lowliness/upright posture; listen/speak.16
In the Lukan text, Martha received reproach from Jesus. A hermeneutics of
suspicion sees that inscribed in the text is patriarchal authority. The
“patriarch” is the one to decide for women. If we are to compare this
incident to the real world of Jesus, it is said that Jesus had empowered the
women of his time. Evelyn and Frank Stagg say, “there is no tradition
indicating that Jesus in any way denigrated woman as woman.”17 The story
as told by Luke is unlike the historical Jesus as we know him.
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The reproach to Martha was an attempt to silence her. She was a woman of
courage who spoke out her concern/interest. The rebuke coming from
authority was a way of stopping the women from seeking their place in the
affairs of the Jesus movement. This reading tells us that the text is a
kyriocentric text. It means that the text was generated by and addressed to
a situation in the life of the early church rather than an episode in the
earthly life of Jesus. The use of the title Kyrios in the text linguistically
signals that the text’s appeal is not to the authority of the historical Jesus
but to that of the resurrected Lord.18
Based on this feminist hermeneutical analysis, we remember Martha and
Mary as victims of patriarchal/kyriarchal restrictions. The story is not
descriptive of an actual situation, rather, the narrative is prescriptive, pitting
sister against sister in order to make a point.19
The point which Luke wants to drive home to his readers is that women’s
discipleship includes listening only but not diakonia-service which include
proclamation of the Word.20 This is why Martha was depicted as periespato
(distracted) in diakonia-service, and therefore she was chided by the Kyrios.
But Mary was portrayed as a listening (quiet) disciple and she receives
praise, exaltation from the Kyrios. Therefore, the narrative’s interest is to
play down the leadership of women. The author Luke denies the women an
equal discipleship with men by relegating them to an inferior, subordinate
role. He links them only to “wealthy benefactors” of the missionaries and
preachers of the early Christian movement.22
The story can be read also “against the grain” by showing the leadership
role of Martha and Mary in the early church, working in partnership.23 From
here we can recover the history of Martha by inferring that Martha must
have been a leading female disciple who can parallel a leading male disciple
such as Peter. This is the reason why Luke had to mention Martha because
the latter is very much known to his audience.
It is imperative to recover Martha’s true history of discipleship. Warren
Carter24 has carefully studied the positioning of the story of Martha and
Mary at the end of chapter 10 and notes that the use of the significant
vocabulary in 10:38 points to a close connection between this scene and
the rest of chapter 10. Martha appears in v. 38 as an embodiment of the
positive response named through chapter 10. In receiving Jesus, Martha is
a child of peace (10:6) who has encountered God’s reign (10:9). She is not
subject to the curses and eschatological warnings of 10: 12-15. She has
heard “Jesus,” not rejecting but accepting the one who sent him (10:16).
She has “seen” God’s revelation (10:21-25). She is among the blessed
disciples who “see and hear” (10:23-24); she inherits eternal life (10:25).
The verb dechomai (receive) expresses openness to the word and work of
God. Martha’s receiving Jesus signifies her commitment to Jesus’ mission
and to the God who sent him (cf. 9:45). She appears as model disciple, in
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contrast to those in the previous verses who do not receive Jesus’
messengers (9:52-53; 10:10).
Further, the word dechomai parallels the account of Rahab who through
faith “had received the spies in peace” (Heb. 11:31). The author of Hebrews
asserts the presence of faith in Rahab as she did favor to the spies of Israel
be receiving/welcoming them in her home/house (Joshua 2:1-24; 6:1-2, 15­
25). In like manner, Martha has faith in God which she manifested by
receiving/welcoming Jesus and his disciples into her home (Luke 10:38).
Luke’s portrayal of her, nevertheless, is a “silenced” woman.
Since the text is a story of two women it is necessary to evaluate and
proclaim its oppressive as well as its emancipatory elements.
First, this text must be denounced as patriarchal because it reinforces the
societal and ecclesiastical polarization of women.25 The Jesus of history is
believed to be compassionate and he does not pit sister against sister,
women against women.26 The text is Luke’s narrative work to disempower
women who assert their right to equal opportunity with the male sector of
society. So, under this hermeneutical model, this story should not be
proclaimed as the word of God but as the word of Luke.
Second, the speaking of Martha to the Kyrios can be both liberating and
non-liberating to women. It is liberating when women take this example as
a courageous move to confront and question the authority of patri­
kyriarchy. It is not liberating when one listens to the rebuking of the Kyrios
to Martha’s concern as the basis to judge that Martha was wrong in her
complaining to the Kyrios. Also it is not liberating when the speaking of
Martha is taken to be a reliance on the Kyrios to resolve one’s problems and
struggles.
Third, the silencing of Martha is enslaving. This means subjection to patri­
kyriarchy. This means women’s exclusion. While the silence of Mary can be
damaging to the women’s movement. Mary’s silence was Luke’s depiction.
She could represent passivity towards the oppressive social and religious
structure.
On the other hand, to some Mary’s sitting to listen to the word of the Kyrios
is liberating. For some women this is liberating because it means women’s
opportunity to professionalism. It means physical and spiritual growth.
Some also say Mary’s choice symbolizes her ability to get out from a
women’s traditional role by studying with Jesus, a Jewish Rabbi. For a
Filipino woman who needs a physical rest, Mary’s role can be liberating
because she is not expected to do anything else than listening to interesting
stories. She can truly rest and enjoy.
Finally. let us together recognize the importance of the ministry of women
by meditating on the experience of Yonggi Cho. The Lord asked him when
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he initially struggled to recognize the importance of women: “Yonggi Cho,
from whom was I born?” He replied, “From a woman, Lord.” “And whose lap
was I nurtured?” asked the Lord. “On a woman’s, Lord.” “And who followed
me throughout my ministry and helped to meet my needs?” “The women,”
Pastor Yonggi Cho was reminded. “Who stayed until the last minutes of my
crucifixion?” “The women.” “And who came to anoint my body in the tomb?”
“The women.” “Who were the first witnesses to my resurrection?” “The
women.” “And to whom did I give the first message after my resurrection?”
“Mary Magdalene, a woman.” Then the Lord affirmed, “To all my questions
you have answered, woman/women! Then why are you afraid of women?
During my earthly ministry I was surrounded by dear, wonderful women. So
why shouldn’t my body, the Church, be surrounded and supported by
women as well?”27
2. John 11:1-12:2 – Martha: Biblical Model For Faith and Action Discipleship
In John 11:1-12:2 we encounter Martha who might have been the original
prominent character in the tradition of the community of believers during
the public ministry of Jesus. This could be deduced from the theological
conversation between Martha and Jesus as the central part of the episode
(vv.20-27). In an earlier version of the story, Lazarus might have been only
a supporting character for the writer to demonstrate Jesus as the
“Resurrection and the Life.”28 But as it stands now the story has become a
story of males, rather than of Martha and Mary. In v. 1b, Bethany is the
village of Mary and Martha. They were very influential women known in
their place.29 In the male interpretation of the story, however, Martha and
Mary have been reduced to mere supporters of the doctrine of “Resurrection
and Life.”
Male interpretation of the text says, the episode is about the death/raising
of Lazarus as even the heading of the New Revised Standard Version still
claims. It’s about his illness, death and resurrection. Lazarus’ status after he
was raised, was elevated into a very close, intimate friend of Jesus. It is
signified by his sitting at the table with Jesus (12:2).30 Gail R. O’Day says,
“Jesus’ raising of Lazarus actually occupies a very small part of this
story…The miracle of the raising of Lazarus is the climax of this story but it
is not its center. . . The story centers on the conversation Jesus has with
Martha as he travels to Lazarus’ tomb.”31 This would attest the fact that in
the writing of the biblical texts, the story became androcentric in its
redaction and interpretation.32 The role of Martha and Mary, especially of
Martha, their faith and active discipleship were submerged in the period of
historicization of the texts. Lazarus as a man was used by the author of the
gospel of John to demonstrate the love and care of the “Father” by raising
Lazarus (v. 41,44). Making Lazarus the central character of the story reveals
a male authorial interest.
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Martha displayed her great knowledge of her faith with her theological
conversation with Jesus, but the episode itself undermines this great
achievement of a woman. The text’s androcentric-patriarchalization
restricted and reduced the nature of Martha as a disciple and apostle of
Jesus.33 This happened even with the fact that Martha behaved in the story
as biblical scholar/theologian. She meets Jesus on the way (v. 20). She
engages the Kyrios (11:21). She knows what and whom she believes. She is
a prototype disciple/apostle par excellence according to the standard of the
Johannine community.. It was to Martha that Jesus first declared his identity
as “the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though
they die, will live” (v. 25). This verse has made Martha “belong in the
gallery of famous women…countless millions down the centuries have been
comforted by these words first received by her.”34
Jesus’ disclosure of his identity prompted Martha to declare/confess who
Jesus is to her. Thus, her christological belief: “Yes, Lord, I believe that you
are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world” (v. 27).
Take note that the Fourth Evangelist is consistent with the idea of
discipleship where he directs more attention to its essence and inclusivity
rather than on the primacy of the Twelve as chosen apostles, he puts this
confession on the lips of a woman instead of a man.35 In spite of this
rhetoric of the Fourth Evangelist – commentators of this verse had taken for
granted its significance in the church.
And so, Martha represents the full apostolic faith of the community of John,
just as Peter did for the Matthean community. Martha, after expressing her
faith in Jesus’ word, goes and calls Mary (11:20), just as Andrew and Philip
called Peter and Nathanael. She is a “beloved disciple” of Jesus. She is the
spokeswoman for the messianic faith of the community. Her confession of
faith was repeated in 20:31.36
While Martha is excellent in the articulation of her community’s faith, she is
also a paradigm of diakonia-service. Her family gave a dinner for Jesus, and
she served (12:2). Let us remember that her diakonia-service was not
restricted to “table-service” only. It includes proclamation.37
In sum, Martha and Jesus’ encounters in the two gospels (Luke and John)
are quite different. Luke uses the authority of the risen Christ to downplay
women’s diakonia-service and goes on to encourage the diakonia of
listening to the word only.
Therefore, the Lukan Martha symbolizes a biblical example for the need of
women today to struggle for liberation from patriarchal domination. John on
the other hand, shows Jesus and Martha’s open and egalitarian encounter in
theological matters (Jn. 11:23-27) which supposed to be “gendered as
characteristically masculine activity.”38 Martha’s diakonia-service was not
undermined by the Kyrios (Jn. 12:2). Martha and Mary’s relationship as
sisters in the gospels is different. Martha in Luke is depicted materialistic
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while in John she is presented as both a woman of great faith-spirituality as
well as a diakonos of Jesus.
IV. MARTHA: HOW RELEVANT IS SHE?
“A neutral theology is not possible. All theology is biased theology
and each has its own ideological underpinnings… there is, on the
one hand, a process of affirming those things that make for the
liberation and redemption of God’s creation and all his people and
on the other, rejecting those things that enslave.”39
-Song Choan-seng
Feminist interpretation can show that some texts, though recorded from an
androcentric perspective, refer to a historical situation in which women had
more authority and influence than was usually attributed to them.40 The
New Testament woman disciple/apostle Martha has now recovered her
untold and lost “her-stories” which brought her back to her original status
as Jesus’ disciple/apostle, spokesperson worthy of emulation for both
women and men of all ages. The applied feminist hermeneutical models of
E. S. Fiorenza have achieved this purpose to some extent in this study.
From the biblical data of Martha read with women’s eyes, we discover a
different picture from the one which resulted in the past from an
androcentric perspective. In spite of the patriarchalization of the gospel
writings we still see who Martha is. She can still be an inspiration for
women’s liberation from socio-political and ecclesial suppressions. In the
Lukan gospel, Martha has a strong resemblance to the experiences of
women in patriarchy who were silenced and denied full participation in
Church and society simply for the reason that they are women. During
Jesus’ actual earthly ministry, Jesus and his movement were open to all,
especially to the “outcast” of his society and religion.41
Further, Martha epitomizes the true character of women-feminists today,
who speak out on the many concerns of the world which is full of injustices,
oppressions, unconcern on the part of the ruling elite in church and society.
She complains to the Kyrios that spirituality means service, action,
participation in the liberation, redemption of the poor and the oppressed.
In sum, the Martha of the Lukan and Johannine accounts would have been
particularly active in the early Christian community, with special
responsibility in diaconal functions: administrative work, looking after the
poor, and significantly, serving at the table at the Eucharist and proclaiming
the good news.
Today she is represented by the many women who now teach/work in the
seminaries, consultants in the various organs of the church and Conference
Ministers, District Superintendents and Bishops in the mainline Protestant
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Churches or even non-Protestant Churches (Anglican and Episcopal
Churches in Europe and USA). She is represented by the lay voice, uniting
with the ministry of the people. They are the women active and alive in the
churches and communities; women who are out and about in the most
different crafts; participating in women’s movement for human rights,
ecology and integrity of creation, engaged in politics and different
governmental positions – taking upon themselves several creative and
critical roles as women disciples with great faith and action service typifying
women’s “exegesis of the silences of the Gospels”43 for us today.
On the other hand, Martha, is likened to the many women today whose
voices are not heard, whose equal rights and dignity as persons are not
fully recognized in a society and church that is male-centered, maleoriented, and male-dominated often by biblical-literalists or dogmatists.
They are the women who work hard and give much in the service of the
church and community but are not ordained ministers/priests because they
are women.
We need women of courage and wisdom, women of faith and action,
strength and determination to pursue a vision. That vision is God’s vision of
liberation and fullness of life for all. It follows that the liberation of women
is also the liberation of men. The need for liberation insights is exemplified
in the life and message of Martha. This is a model, a paradigm of women’s
struggle for liberation and “equality” for all today.
Endnotes
1. Sr. Mary John Mananzan, The Woman Question in the
Philippines (Pasay City, Philippines : Daughters of St. Paul, 1991) p. 17.
2. Katharine Doob Sakenfeld, “Feminist Perspective on Bible and
Theology” in Interpretation 52.1 (1988) p. 5.
3. Letty M. Russell, Ed., Feminist Interpretation of the Bible,
(Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1985) p. 91.
4. Sr. Ofelia Ramiscal Tabing, Miriam, Deborah, Huldah:
Prophetic Models for Our Times. M.A. Religious Studies Thesis, Maryhill
School of Thgeology, 1991 (Unpublished).
5. Russell, Feminist Interpretation of the Bible, p. 41.
6. For example: Elisabeth Moltmann-Wendel whose work is
important for the history of interpretation, but not as helpful for the analysis
of the Filipino semi-feudal system; Sally McFague’s “Models of God” seemed
to the writer very cosmological and more difficult to apply to our down-toearth situation. In her model would have to be seen as a representative of
all women (rather than certain women at the margin) which was not the
writer’s intention. Furthermore, more material was available to the writer by
Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza than by any other feminist writer.
7. Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, But She Said: Feminist
Practices of Biblical Interpretation (Boston: Beacon Press, 1992) pp.
104
57-76.
8. Ibid., p. 52.
9. Ibid., p. 53.
10. Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, Bread Not Stone (Boston:
Beacon Press, 1984) p. 20.
11. Fiorenza, But She Said, p. 54.
12. Soon Young Chang (Kim), (Unpublished, Masteral Thesis) p. 48.
The Place of Women’s Experience in the Works of E. S. Fiorenza
13. Gerhard Kittel, Ed., Theological Dictionary of the New
Testament., The (Grand Rapids: WBE Publishing Co., 1964) pp. 87-88.
14. Fiorenza, But She Said, p. 60.
15. Ibid.,
16. Ibid., pp. 60-61.
17. Evelyn and Frank Stagg, Woman in the World of Jesus
(Philadelphia: Westminster Press, Ltd., 1990) p. 143.
18. Fiorenza, But She Said, p. 62.
19. Ibid.,
20. Ibid., p. 65.
21. Ibid.,
22. Ibid., p. 63.
23. Warren Carter, “Getting Martha Out of the Kitchen: Luke 10:3842 Again,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 58:2 (1996) pp. 267-268.
24. Ibidd.,
25. Fiorenza, But She Said, p. 69.
26. Anna May Say Pa, “How Jesus Empowers Women,” PRAXIS, 2
(April-June 1996) pp. 10-12.
27. Ho Chee Sin, “Women and Leadership in the Methodist Church,
Singapore,” ATESEA Yeow Choo Lak, Ed., (No. 5) pp. 11-12.
28. Gail R. O’Day, “The Gospel of John,” The New Interpreter’s
Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995) p. 693.
29. Charles Pfeiffer and R. K Harrison, Eds., The Wycliffe Bible
Commentary (Chicago: Moody Press, 1962) p. 1097.
30. Judette A. Gallares, Images of Courage (Quezon City:
Claretian Publications, 1995) p. 153.
31. O’Day, “John,” Women’s Bible Commentary, p. 649.
32. Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, Ed., Searching the Scriptures,
Vol. 1 (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1993) p. 5.
33. Gallares, Images of Courage, pp. 149-150.
34. Edith Deen, All the Women of the Bible (New York: Harper
and Row, Publishers, Inc., 1983) p. 176.
35. Gallares, Images of Courage, p. 150.
36. Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her A Feminist
Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: The Crossroad
Publishing Company, 1983) p. 329.
37. Carol Newsom and Sharon Ringe, Eds., Women’s Bible
Commentary (Kentucky: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992) p. 288.
105
38. Michael L. Satlow, “Try To Be A Man: The Rabbinic Construction
of Masculinity,” Harvard Theological Review, 89:1 (1996) p. 21.
39. CTC-CCA, Ed., Towards the Sovereignty of the People
(Singapore: CTC-CCA, 1983) p. 13.
40. Adela Yarbro Collins, Feminist Perspective on Biblical
Scholarship (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985) p. 59.
41. Fiorenza, In Memory of Her, p. 141.
42. Dyanchand Carr, Ed., Towards an Asian Theology of Hope
(Hongkong: CCA, 1996) p. 22.
43. Richard Bauckam, “The Book of Ruth and the Possibility of a
Feminist Canonical Hermeneutic” in Biblical Interpretation, 5:1 (January)
1997, p. 44.
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TEOLOHIYA NG BUTAS NA TABO
By Deborrah Reyes
Unang Kapitolo: “Ang Kahalagahan ng Tabo sa Buhay sa Ibaba”
Ikalawang Kapitolo: “Ang Butas na Tabo ay Nangungusap sa
Katotohanan ng Pagkabusabos”
Ikatlong Kapitolo: “Ang Butas na Tabo ay Instrumento ng Buhay
at Pakikibaka”
“Ang Butas na Tabo sa Kabilang Banda”
Unang Kapitolo:
ANG KAHALAGAHAN NG TABO SA BUHAY SA IBABA
Kilala ang mga Pilipino na isa sa kalinisan dahil sa katangian na mahilig
maligo. Marahil isang dahilan nito ay ang mainit at humidong klima ng ating
bansa. Malaking bahagi nito sa pagpapasya sa magiging pamumuhay at
kaugalian ng grupo ng mga tao at ipasa ang mga nakasanayan sa darating
na henersayon. Ang mga gawi at mga paniniwala ay nagiging bahagi ng
pang-araw-araw na pamumuhay at bumubuo ng isang kultura. Kung kaya’t
maging sa Silangan at Kanlurang bahagi ng globo, kilala ang lahing Pilipino
sa pagiging mahilig maligo na siyang nagpapakita ng kalinisan. Malinis daw
tayo sa lahat ng bagay. Kaisa ko ba kayo sa argumentong ito? Kahit pa
sabihin na halos buwan-buwan ang pagtaas ng singil sa tubig, hindi ito
hadlang sa malimit na paliligo, paglalaba at kung anu-ano pang paglilinis.
Hindi ito magkakaroon ng kaganapan kung hindi sa tulong ng isang bagay
na naging bahagi na ng kulturang ipinasa ng ating mga ninuno, ang pag­
gamit ng “tabo” . Ito ang mainam na sandata upang mapadali ang
sinasagawang paglilinis. Ayon sa mga nakapanayam ko na nakapagtrabaho
na sa ibang bansa, ang katangian ng pagiging malinis nating mga Pilipino
ang lubhang ikinasisiya ng mga may-ari ng kumpanya at mga amo ng
tahanan na pinaglilingkuran ng ating mga kababayan na “Overseas Filipino
Workers” o OFWs. At isa ito sa mga dahilan kung bakit dumarami ang mga
domestic helpers, Care Givers. Kahit pa sa larangan ng entertainment ay
higit na pinipili ang Pinoy at Pinay dahil sa pagiging malinis; bukod pa sa
mga talento na ipamamalas nila. May mga pagkakataon na sa pagnanais at
pasusumikap nating mapanatiling malinis ang sariling bakuran, mas
minamabuti pa ng ilan sa atin na itapon na lamang ang mga basura nila sa
bakuran ng iba. Ang Ilog Pasig, halimbawa; na dating ubod ng linis ay
nagmistulang basurahan na. Ngunit may magkaibang argumento pagdating
sa usaping kapaligiran at maling sistema ang umiiral dito.
Kung kaya’t iwan muna natin pansamantala, at hayaan ninyong
107
mapangkatwiranan ko ang pamagat ng artikulo na ito.
Kapag usaping paliligo, tabo ang pangunahing sumasagi sa isipan natin.
Nandiyan ang pag-igib ng tubig dala ang balde, pupunuuin ng tubig para sa
paghahanda sa pagpasok sa banyo at kapag puno na ng tubig ang nasabing
balde, hindi mawawala ang tabo sapagkat sila ay sadyang ginawa para sa
isa’t-isa na magsasama sa hirap at ginhawa. Ang pamamaraan ng paliligo
ay hindi kailan man naging sagka para maisagawa ang isa sa mahahalagang
“ritual” na maaring gawin sa umaga man o sa gabi. At kung minsan sa
panahon ng tag-init ay halos tatlong beses sa isang araw isinasagawa ang
animo panata gamit ang rosario na tutulong upang maibsan ang init na
singaw ng kasalanan.
Ang pag-gamit ng tabo ang mainam na sandata upang maibsan ang init ng
katawan dulot ng singaw ng lupa galing sa sikat ng araw. Dito pumapasok
ang kahalaghan ng tabo sa buhay ng bawat mamamayang Pilipino. Maging
sa ibang bansa, “trade mark” na ang tabo sa loob ng palikuran ng bawat
Pilipinong naninirahan doon. Kahit pa mayroong shower at bathtub, tabo pa
rin ang nakasanayang gamitin, sapagat ako ay naniniwala na sadyang likas
sa ating mga Pilipino ang pagiging sentimental at hindi pagkalimot sa
nakasanayan at pinagmulan.
Hindi ba sumagi minsan sa iyong isipan kung bakit tabo ang nakasanayan
na nating gamitin? Ang uri na ating pinagmulan ay may malaking bahagi sa
pangaraw-araw nating gawain at nakasanayan. Sa pasimula pa ng ating
kasaysayan, tabo ang kadalasang gamit sa panalok ng tubig sa sapa,
inumin sa bukal, panghugas ng pinggan, paliligo at paghuhugas ng kung
anu-ano pa. Gamit ang kalahating bahagi ng kininis na bao na maaring
lagyan ng tatagnan para sa masamadaling pagsadyok ng tubig sa tapayan.
Maari ding gamitin ang tinapyas na kawayan na ang dapat piliin ay ang
dulong bahagi o kaya ay bahagi ng kawayan na may buko para mas higit na
makakuha ng tubig at hindi lusutang tatapon ang sinalok.
Ang pag-gamit ng mga bagay na hiram ay unti-unting sumasaklob na
parang bang may ulap na nakatabing sa harapan ng bundok na hindi
tuwirang mapagmasdan ang ganda nito. Ang malalim na pagkaunawa at
pagpapahalaga sa ating kulturang kinasanayan ang pilit na hinuhugot sa
ating kaluluwa upang tuluyan ng mawalan ng hininga.
Ang tabo ay isang bagay na malapit sa ating pagiging Pilipino. Aminin man
natin o hindi, ang pag-gamit ng shower o bathtub ay hindi nagpapakita ng
ating tunay na katauhan. Ang ilustrasyon ng shower: ang pagdaloy ng tubig
buhat sa itaas patungo sa tuktok ng bunbunan ,pababa sa katawan
hanggang makarating sa paanan na para bang nag-aantay na lamang sa
kung ano ang mayroon at walang magawa kundi ang tanggapin ang
babagsak buhat sa itaas samantalang ang bathtub naman: ang pagbababad
ng katawan sa para bagang maliit na bangka na yari sa porcelana o fiber
glass na kampanteng ninanamnam mag-isa ang lamig o init ng tubig na
108
pinagbababaran ay mga taliwas na kugalian na ating nakasanayan.
Samantalang ang pakikiramay at pagbabahaginan ang ugaling umuugnay sa
tabo na may kalayaang ipamahagi ang laman na sadyang sinadyok upang
magkaroon ng pakikipagkapwa tao.
Kung ating pagbubulay-bulayan, subukang ipikit ang iyong mga mata at
isalarawan sa iyong isip ang isang bagay na malimit mong gamitin, tangan
ng isang mong kamay at dahan-dahan na isasalok sa tubig na nagbibigay
buhay at ililipat sa ibang sisidlan, habang paulit-ulit na isinasagawa ay
napupuno ang lalagyan na halos kulanganin at kailanganin pa na kumuha
ng isa pang sisidlan. Ang pamamaraan ng pag-gamit ng tabo ay
nagsasalarawan ng tuwirang pagpapadama ng malasakit at pagkalinga.
Gamit ang kamay na siyang sasalok, buong pagtitiyagang paulit-ulitin ang
gayong gawain upang dagliang mapuno ang sisidlang walang laman. Ang
pagmamalasakit na mapunan ang kawalan at pagpapadama ng pagkalinga
sa nawalan ay isang mahalagang katuparan ng tuwirang pagpupuno sa
sisidlang walang laman.
Ang pag-gamit ng tabo ay nagpapakita din ng pagkakapantay-pantay sa
pamamagitan ng paghawak nito. Hindi kailan man magiging makabuluhan
ang kanyang gamit kung hindi ito tangan ng kamay. Sa aking karanasan sa
paghawak ng tabo, aking napansin na may iisang pamamaraan ang pag­
gamit nito, ang paghawak bago marating ang nais puntahan. Iisang
pamamaraan subalit marami ang nabibiyayaan. May iisang layunin, ang
makapuno sa mga pangangailangan at ang paglilinis gamit ang tubig ng
buhay. Kahit ano pang klase ng likido ang sasalukin may iisa pa ring
layunin, ang maisalin, mailipat at mapuno ang walang laman na sisidlan.
Ang tabo ay nagpapakita ng kapakumbabaan dahil ang karaniwang
gumagamit nito ay ang mga pangkaraniwang tao na walang ibibili ng
shower, bathtub, swimming pool kung kaya’t “mano-mano” nalamang kung
tawagin natin. Ngunit sa paglipas ng panahon at sa makabagong
pamumuhay, may iba’t-ibang uri ng tabo na mabibili sa pamilihan.
Kadalasan, ito ay yari sa plastik na may kakaibang disenyo at kulay na
pagpipilian ayon sa panlasa ng mamimili.
Ang paglalaba gamit ang tabo ay isa rin sa mahahalagang “ritual” na
parang ikinabit na sa pusod nating mga Pilipino na halos ikamamatay kung
atin itong makakaligtaan. Ang tabo ay may mahalaga gagampanan para
maisakatuparan ang isa pang “ritual” ng buhay, ang labhan ang maruruming
damit. Katulong ang batsa na lalagyan ng sabon habang kinakanaw ng
kamay para matunaw, gamit ang tabo sa pagsasalin ng tubig hanggang ang
maruruming damit na ibababad ay halos malunod sa kinalalagyan. Walang
washing machine at water hose na maaring gamitin sapagkat tabo ang
gamit ng mga pangkaraniwang tao. Sadyang maparaan tayong mga Pilipino
na nakakagawa ng mga bagay upang makabawas gastos. Ang pag-gamit ng
mga lumang lalagyan ng langis katulad ng Caltex, Shell o Mobil, maging ang
mga lata ng gatas at sofdrinks ay hindi nakakaligtas para gawing tabo.
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Iba’t-ibang kulay din hindi ba? Kahit walang pambili ay may paraan na
maaring gawin. Isang ugaling sariling atin na dapat ipagmalaki, ang
magkasya kung ano ang mayroon o ang kasabihang, “kapag maiksi ang
kumot, matuto kang mamaluktot”. Kasabihan na nagpapahayag ng
kakayahang makatawid sa kahirapan sa kabila ng kakaulangan sa ibang
mga bagay.
Kung tutuusin,malaking tulong sa kalikasan ang pagiging malikhain nating
mga Pilipino. Bakit? Sapagkat ang mga plastik na nagiging sanhi ng
pagkasira ng kalikasan, pagbara ng mga lagusan ng tubig, pagbaha at
pagkasira maging ng ilog at karagatan ay nagagawan ng paraan para
maging kapaki-pakinabang. Kung ating susuriin, ito ay responsibilidad ng
mga kapitalistang may-ari ng produkto na itapon sa tamang pamamraan
ang kanilang mga gamit na materyales.
Kaya ang kasabihang “may pera sa basura” ay isang makatotohanang
nangyayari sa ating kapaligiran habang ang kapabayaan at pagkasira ng
kalikasan ay tuluyan ng pinababayan ng mga iresponsable sa lipunan. Ang
pagkumpas ng mga kamay hawak ang tabo sa pagbuhos ng tubig kung
saan man naisin ay ang pagpapakita ng pag-asa sa mga taong maaring
makaranas ng kaginhawahan sa buhay sa ibaba.
Ikalawang Kapitolo:
ANG BUTAS NA TABO AY NANGUNGUSAP SA KATOTOHANAN NG
PAGKABUSABOS
Ang realidad na tumatambad sa ating kapaligiran ay ang hindi mapigilang
pagdami ng mga bata sa lansangan biktima ng kahirapan. Isa lamang ito sa
mga kinakaharap na suliranin ng ating bansa. Ang pamumulot ng mga
plastic containers, plastic cups, sofdrinks sa lata at lahat ng uri ng plastik,
papel at lata na maaring pakinabangan para maipagbili sa junk shop ang
pinagkakaabalahan ng mga bata at maralita sa lansangan. Minsan kong
naransan, may isang bata na nag-aabang sa plastick cup na tangan ko,
naghihitay kung kailan ko ito bibitiwan, hindi na siya nakatiis at kinausap
ako, at sinabi, ”ate, akin na lang ang baso mo”. Sapagkat may iba pang
mga bata ang nag-aabang sa hindi kalayuan sa aming kinatatayuan, dalidali ko itong inabot kahit may kaunti pang natira sa baso na pinag-inuman
ko. Sa aking pagmamasid, bakas ang malaking panghihinayang sa mukha
ng iba pang mga bata ang nasaksihan nilang pag-abot ng tangan kong
plastick cup sa naunang bata. Napasaltik! ang isa sa kanila habang
pinagmamasdan ang pag-inom sa natira kong inumin.
Bilang pampalubag loob sa mga sarili, kung kaya’t sabay-sabay na hinarap
ng mga natirang grupo ang basurahan na di kalayuan sa kanilang tabi. Nag­
unahan silang maghanap ng plastik habang ang iba naman ay papel at lata.
Iba- iba ang kanilang mga nais makuha na para bang pagkuha ng kurso sa
kolehiyo na may iba’t-ibang “major concentration.” Habang abala sa pag­
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uunahan, isa sa kanila ang masayang nagtaas ng kamay hawak ang isang
bagay na kulay pula, na may anim na pulgada ang taas, bilog ang hugis at
yari sa plastik na para bang nagwagi sa palabunutan na may malaking
premyo na matatanggap. Buong saya at may halong pagmamalaki na
ipinakita niya sa mga kapawa bata ang tangan na bagay. Subalit sa kanyang
pag-silip upang matunghayan kung ano ang laman sa loob nito, nakita niya
ng tagusan ang mukha ng kanyang mga kasamang bata. Nagtawanan at
nagbatukan na nagungutya ang tugon ng kanyang mga kasamahan. Isa sa
kanila ang nag-sambit “kahit na tabo ay hindi pwede yan!” sabay sigawan
ng lahat, “ ha ha ha!, butas na tabo!, beelat!, butas na tabo!.”
Walang nagawa ang kaawa-awang bata kundi ang sabayan na lamang ang
tawanan upang maibsan ang laki ng panghihinayang at hiya na kanyang
naramdaman. Sinundan ko ng tingin ang patutunguhan habang papalayo sa
aking kinatatayuan ang batang sawi. Hindi pa rin niya binitiwan ang napulot
niyang “butas na tabo.” Masaya niya itong nilalaro, ginagawang mikropono,
teleskopyo at isinusuot sa kanyang braso na animo isang pananggalang ng
mandirigma sa pelikula.
Ang buhay ng mga bata sa lansangan ay isang kapahayagan ng
katotohanan ng mga suliranin ng ating lipunan. Ito ay nagsisilbing “butas
na tabo” sa aking paningin sapagkat lusutan at hayagan nating
nasasaksihan ang kahirapan na dinaranas ng marami nating kababayan. Sa
kabila ng pagiging biktima ng mapang-aping lipunan, may magandang
pananaw sa buhay ang batang nakakuha ng premyo na “butas na tabo”.
Bakas sa kanyang murang isipan ang pagkakaroon ng determinasyon na
ibaling sa ibang pamamaraan ang kasawian na naranasan.
Ang gawin niya itong mikripono ay nagpapakita ng tuwirang pagpapahayag
ng katotohanan, nararapat na isiwalat gamit ang mikropono, ang tunay
nilang kalalagayan sa lipunang ginagalawan. Ang gawin niya itong
teleskopyo upang makita buhat sa malayo ng malapitan ang pang araw­
araw na buhay na kanilang nararanasan. Magbigay ng kamulatan sa
nakakarami sa tunay na kalalagayan ng mga busabos at binubusabos ng
lipunan. At ang gawin niyang pananggalang na nagpapakita ng kanyang
naisin na ma-protektahan ang sarili sa mga mapang-api ng lipunan.
Kahit pa ang kanilang kalalagayan ay para bagang isang tele-pantasya na
matiyagang sinusubaybayan araw-araw, at umaasa na ang katapusan ng
palabas ay kasiyahan na pabor sa bida ng kwento. May pag-asa pa rin na
darating ang panahon matutugunan ang hinaing ng mga taong naging
biktima ng pagkabusabos sa lipunan kabalikat ang ating walang sawa at
paulit-ulit, gamit ang kamay na ilipat ang tubig sa sisidlan tangan ang tabo
upang mapunan ang mga sisidlang uhaw sa tubig ng buhay.
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Ikatlong Kapitolo:
ANG BUTAS NA TABO AY INSTRUMENTO NG BUHAY AT PAKIKIBAKA
Ang tabo kahit anong kinang ng kulay at linis nito, kung hahayaan lamang
natin na apawan ng daloy ng tubig o kaya’y iwan sa iisang lugar at sadyang
pababayaan, ang laman nito ay unti-unting matutuyo, dadalhin ng hangin at
walang sino man ang makikinabang sa laman na inilagay sa kanya. Pwede
ding pamahayan ng kiti-kiti na magiging lamok pagdating ng ilang araw.
Subalit ang ulap ang siyang mas higit na masisiyahan sapagkat sa
pagdating ng panahon ito ay magiging hamog at ulan na makapagbibigay
ginhawa sa kalawakan. Subalit ang kapangyarihan ng agham ay hindi
tuwirang tumutugon sa dagliang pangangailangan. May tamang panahon at
haba ng paghihitay upang maranasan at maunawaan ang ganda na dulot
nito sa atin.
May mga pagkakataon na kailangan na nating sumandok at magsalin sa
mga lalagyan para sa madaliang pagtugon ng pangangailangan. Madalas
ang laki at lalim ang nagiging batayan sa mas mainam na paggamit ng
tabo. Ang pagpili ay ayon sa kakayanan ng indibidual. Nararapat na sukat
sa kanyang pangangatawan at may kakayahan na itaas at ibaba ang braso
sa pagsadyok na parang bumubuhat ng bagay gamit sa pang-ehersisyo.
Ang tabo na nananatiling buo ay may kakahayang malagyan ng sapat na
dami ng laman na maaring ibahagi sa ibang sisidlan. Paano kung sa
kasamaang palad ang tabo ay nabiyak dahil sa tagal ng kanyang serbisyo?
Maari pa rin kayang magamit ang biyak na tabo? Paano kung tuluyan nang
nabutas? Wala na ba itong kapakinabangan sa may-ari? Ang biyak at butas
ay may malaking pag-kakaiba. At kung ating susuriin mas may malaking
pagkakataon na matakpan ang biyak kaysa butas na tabo. Ang pag-gamit
ng tabo kung minsan ay nakalalasing sa katotohanan, sapagkat dahil sa
kakayahan na magpuno ng ibang sisidlan, ang kapalaluan ang
kinahahantungan. Kung ito ay daranas ng pagkabagsak, malimit ito ay may
biyak na pilit na tinatakpan upang makapagpatuloy ng kanyang serbisyo sa
iba. Subalit ang pagtatakip sa katotohanan ang siyang pumipigil sa paglago
ng hinaharap. Mas mamarapatin pa na butasan ito upang maging lubusan
ang pakikibahagi sa kapwa. Ang “butas na tabo” ay nagsasalarawan ng
kapakumbabaan na kung saan kahit pa wala na itong pagkakataon na
mapunuan ng laman, ang pagtingin sa pangangailangan ng kapwa at
kapaligiran ay tagusan ng nasasaksihan.
Masakit ang dagok ng buhay na parang bang pilit na binubutasan ang tabo
mong pinakakaingatan subalit ito ay nagsisilbing kamulatan sa
pagpapatuloy ng pakikibaka sa hamon ng buhay. Katulad ng ibang tabo na
sadyang nilalagyan ng maliliiit na butas upang maging daluyan ng tubig na
magsisilbing pandilig sa mga halaman. Tayo man ay maaring butasan upang
ang ating sisidlan ay higit na maging kapakipakinabang sa nakakarami. Ang
panalangin ni Hesus sa Bundok, Mapalad ang mga aba…, ang mga
nahahapis…, ang mga mapagkumbaba…, ang mga nagmimithing
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makatupad sa kalooban ng Diyos…, ang mga mahabagin…, ang may malinis
na puso…, ang mga gumagawa ng daan sa pagkakasundo…, ang mga
pinag-uusig…, Mapalad silang namumuhay na katulad ng “butas na tabo”
sapagkat makikita nila ang kaharian ng Diyos. Ito ay nagbibigay ng
kamulatan upang makita ang katotohanan na ang pagiging butas at may
pagnanais na butasan ang kanikanyang tabo ay kapahayagan ng pagnanasa
na maging instrumento sa pagbabago at walang takot na harapin ang
pakikibaka kasama ang mga “itinakwil at kawa-awa ng lipunan”, maging
daluyan ng pag-ibig at pagpapala sa iba at, buong kasiglahan na
makikilahok para maisakatuparan ang paghahari ng Diyos sa sangkatauhan.
ANG BUTAS NA TABO SA KABILANG BANDA
Ang katagang “butas na tabo” ay madalas kong marinig sa aking ama.
Madalas siyang gumagamit ng mga matatalinhagang pananalita sa
pagpapaliwanag ng mga bagay-bagay na nais niyang maiparating. Nandiyan
ang salitang “huwag mong hayaang lumiit ang nilalakaran mong lupa” na
ang ibig sabihin ay huwag kang gumawa ng mga bagay na lubhang
makakasira sa iyong pagkatao at maaring humantong sa paglihis ng iyong
lakad dahil sa matinding kahihiyan. “Ang palalo walang tuto api kulob kahit
saan tumungo” ang katang madalas kong marinig sa aking ina, ayon sa
kanyang paliwanag: ang taong mayabang ay nagiging api-apihan dahil sa
mga salita na hindi lubhang pinaniniwalaan ito ay palihim na
pinagtatawanan. “Ang yamang salapi ay nauubos , ngunit ang manang ugali
ay hindi natatapos”, na may paliwanag na: ang ugaling minana, mabuti man
o masama ay may bakas ng panantili hanggang sa mga susunod na
henerasyon, samantalang ang yamang materyal ay maaring maubos at
mawala na ng tuluyan. Ang usapang pampamilya na katulad nito ay lubhang
nakakatulong sa paghasa ng kakayahang maging mapanuri sa mga
pananalitang binibigkas ng mga tao. Hindi ang agarang paghusga sa mga
pangyayari, kundi ang malawak na pang-unawa ang dapat pairalin. Kung
kaya’t malimit na maririnig sa aking ama ang mga tagang, “para ka namang
butas na tabo, lusutan na walang tumitimo sa iyong ala-ala.” Ang mga
matatalinhagang pananalita ay nagsisilbing hamon sa pagpapatalas ng pag­
aanilsa ng sitwasyon.
Ngunit sa kabilang banda, ang pagiging “butas na tabo” ay mayroong iba
pang pakahulugan na maaring maging batayan sa panibagong pagtanaw sa
tunay na kahulugan nito. Katulad ng “jeepney”, na kung ating uugatin ang
kasaysayan ay sadyang ginawa para maging sasakyang pandigma noong
ikalawang digmaang pandaigdig, dala ito sa Pilipinas ng mga sundalong
Amerikano. Subalit ang pagiging likas na malikhain at maibigin sa
kapayapaan ang siyang umiral sa kaisipan at damdamin ng mga Pilipino
upang ito ay gawing sasakyang panghatid ng mga kalakal sa ibang lugar at
mga pasahero upang makarating sa kanilang nais puntahan. Ang dating
pang-apatan na katao lamang ang maaring isakay ay humigit pa sa
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labingapat ang maaring lumulan sa makabagong jeeney, may disenyo na
limang kabayo sa unahan ng sasakyan, nagpapaala-ala sa atin bilang
Pilipino kapalit ang kalesa na gamit noong panahon ng mga kastila.
Kung ang pagiging butas na tabo ay nagsasalarawan ng walang inililihim,
walang kontrol , lahat ay lumalabas ang pakahulugan ay sadyang
nagdudulot ng pangamba sa maaring kahihinatnan. Ngunit kung hahayaang
matuyuan ang tabong butas upang magsilbing daluyan ng panibagong
pagtanaw sa buhay at pakikibaka, kapakumbabaan ang kaakibat sa
pagsasakatuparan nito. Kung makakausap ko lang sana ang aking ama sa
mga oras na ito, masasabi ko sa kanya na tawagin na niya akong “butas na
tabo” at wala na kaming paguusapan pa, dahil mapapangatwiranan ko na
sa positibong pananaw ang kataga niyang ito.
Ang butas na tabo ay isang halimbawa ng pagpapamalas ng kakayahan na
makita ang iba pang maaring pakahulugan sa mas positibo na pagtanaw at
lubhang makakatulong sa pagpapalawak ng pangunawa sa mga nangyayari
sa ating kapaligiran.
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MOTIVATION, MADNESS, AND MINISTRY
HOW TO MAKE A PERSON SAY “YES” WHEN THE WHOLE WORLD
SAYS “NO” TO CHURCH INVOLVEMENT
By Afrie Songco-Joye
INTRODUCTION
The basic concern addressed by this proposal is how the church through its
pastoral leadership can motivate lay people to participate fully in its
ministries and thus utilize their diverse gifts in strengthening the life and
mission of the faith community. The thesis is that the church can make a
person respond positively to its ongoing ministries in the midst of a
maddening world if it provides a community of hospitality and meaning, and
if it evokes critical awareness of the biblical and theological insights of
ministry and the psychological perspective and praxis of motivation. This
proposal will draw from the theological reflections of Letty Russell on the
meaning and purpose of the church and the psychological theories of
Abraham Maslow and Frederick Herzberg on motivation. The questionnaire
result findings of the writer on what makes people say “yes” to church
participation will be examined to affirm and validate the relevance of the
theoretical concepts. From these perspectives, proposals will emerge for
ways to increase the involvement of the laity in the ministries of the church.
Lay participation in various church ministries is a necessity if the church is
to be vibrant, dynamic, and growing. A big challenge is to tap the
enormous number of laity, sometimes called the “sleeping giant.”
This paper offers a tool to help us in understanding the underlying forces
that motivate most people to participate. It begins with a presentation of
the theoretical framework from theological and psychological perspectives
on some key concepts of motivation, followed by a description of the study,
and an analysis of the four motivational factors that have been rated the
highest by approximately 1800 respondents from the Philippines and the
United States.
THEOLOGICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES
A helpful starting point would be to define the terms motivation, madness,
and ministry. The word “motivation” originates from Latin word “movere”
which means “to move.” (Webster’s) Motivation denotes action, movement,
in process, never static or stagnant. It is an inclination to act, with a goal
in mind. The givens are choices, needs, and, goals. The concept of basic
motivational process is the essential role of individual and, in the case of
many Filipinos, communal needs29, desire, and expectation in directing or
moving persons to certain behavior or action. Behavior, then, is a response
which leads to fulfillment of a goal.
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In this paper, the word “madness” refers to the frantic, frenzied, wildly
excited or confused response of church-parish leaders when they face the
inadequate number of parishioners to do various pressing significant
ministries. The annual and regular recruitment of church volunteers is not
an easy task. People give all kinds of excuses, from busyness and lack of
time to simply being noncommittal. When important positions are unfilled,
a sense of desperation and maddening response can arise.
School, work, sport teams, and malls30 have taken over the “sacredness” of
Sunday mornings in the lives of many folk. As the church faces increasing
competition from society and declining number of volunteer persons
available to do ministry, pastor and lay education professionals tend to
respond frantically to fill in critical roles and functions. Another reality the
church confronts itself is the growing number of parents who work six days
and take the Sunday off to rest and do housework.
A study on babyboomers once revealed that their primary need is time.
Whether they barely “make it” or whether they have time and the money to
spend, they tend to commit less in volunteer church positions, like Sunday
School or catechismal teaching. Yet, they want meaning and a deep sense
of spirituality.
Ministry is any service done to help persons at their point of need. As
baptized persons are incorporated into family of God and the faith
community, we enter into a life of ministry. The two great commandments
on love that Jesus quoted from the Old Testament summarize the meaning
of ministry. H. Richard Niebuhr, a popular theologian and author, points out
that the primary ministry of the church, parish, synagogue and temple is to
increase its love for God and for our neighbors. The ministry of the church
is strengthened or weakened depending on the motivational and faith
response of God’s people. As persons face endless choices, demands, and
responsibility, they find it more difficult to share their time, talent, and
treasures. A deep sense of the love of God can become a compelling force
to do ministry.
To be motivated to do ministry involves getting into the heart of our calling
as followers of God, followers of Christ. Those who confess the Christian
faith are drawn to the compassion, humility, sense of justice, and strength
of Jesus Christ. Jesus’ ministries demonstrate genuine care and concern for
all persons. His presence calms our weary souls; his healing transforms us.
His inclusive and unconditional love compels us to accept and love the least,
the lost, the last.
Letty Russell, a feminist theologian, clergy, and author, provides a rich
image of the church that can evoke positive action. “Church in the
roundtable,” Russell’s metaphor of the church, welcome all people “to
participate in the talk because in that way they join their hands and hearts
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in the journey of faith and struggle for creating, healing, and redeeming the
world (Russell, 13). Such image manifests some sign of God’s promise for
the Lord’s reign becoming a beginning reality. Roundtable talk becomes a
powerful image of a feminist understanding of the church. Here, every one
is included; no one is an outsider. Christ breaks down the walls of racism,
sexism, ageism, prejudice, and other life-negating beliefs, attitudes and
values.
As people experience the power of God’s Spirit, they respond to the nudging
of the Spirit to be channels of God’s empowering love. Motivation to give
themselves in service, diakonia for Christ’s sake and for the sake of Christ’s
church, comes naturally and spontaneously. In a theological sense, God’s
people do not volunteer. They commit themselves to serve. There is no
such thing as volunteerism in Christ’s ministry, because each person has a
vocation or calling to fulfill Christ’s vision, mission, and ministry.
As a visible sign of God’s presence and of “the coming fulfillment of God’s
promise for new creation,” the church practices Christian hospitality to all
people, particularly the marginalized and the poor. Letty Russell asserts the
significance of the church serving as a safe and secure place for persons to
express themselves freely, to share their gifts, their pains, their sins, and to
come out from their long-hidden sexual orientation, knowing that they are
not to be judged, that they are affirmed and accepted for their humanity,
that they have a home where genuine respect, self-worth, and dignity
matter. In such a faith community, we find a high degree of motivation to
join in and participate.
Hospitality, Russell says, is “an expression of unity without uniformity,
because unity in Christ has as its purpose the sharing of God’s hospitality
with the stranger, the one who is the “other” (Russell, 173). In the midst
of diversity of race, color, socio-economic condition, and ideology, the
church accepts persons as they are and ministers with them and for them.
Here, Russell emphasizes the need for compassion and hospitality as a
basis for unity (Ibid). She believes that a hospitable, compassionate faith
community becomes a community of service as it reaches out in advocating
for peace and justice and in defending the faith. Henri Nouwen puts it well
when he points out that the hospitable church does not expect the guest to
adopt the lifestyle of the host but “the gift of a chance to the guest to find
their own” (Ibid).
A church becomes a community of hospitality and compassion when it can
motivate people to participate in its life and ministry. A former Muslim and
now Christian young adult has confessed that he has continuously
participated in a United Methodist Church because of its warmth and
hospitality and its ministries with the homeless and hungry. An accepting,
welcoming environment invites persons who are searching for community
and for meaning.
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The church, as a community of hospitality, needs “substance” to sustain
those who have felt welcomed. To motivate us to stay, we need to
experience growth and renewal of faith. The church needs to be a
community of learning and meaning to enhance a person’s incentive
and desire to influence the learning process and its content and setting and
be influenced by it. Also, as we find meaning in and through community
life, we would want to contribute in meaning-making. Making meaning
takes place simultaneously with involvement in church life, like in-depth
Bible study, service projects, and worship. Learning opportunities tend to
evoke critical awareness, draw out individual creativity, and lead us towards
transforming our belief system, behavior, attitudes and values.
Because of the power of images and symbols in effecting human
transformation, the church needs to be a community of imagination.
Persons tend to participate when the church offers creative, exciting, and
dynamic opportunities and experiences. The imagination has power to
move us action. In our intuitive, meditative, and imaginative moments and
in lived out relationships of love with others, we discern and grasp
significant religious images that transform our beliefs, attitudes, and values.
As we take hold of those images and act on them, faith grows. In a
community of imagination, our faith pulls us to a unifying center that
focuses on God in Christ.
ABRAHAM MASLOW’S AND FREDERICK HERZBERG’S THEORIES OF
MOTIVATION
Two classic theories of motivation, Abraham Maslow’s need hierarchy and
Frederick Herzberg’s two-factor or motivation-maintenance theory,
provide workable models of understanding motivation. Maslow emphasizes
that people are motivated to act in response to their own unfulfilled needs,
which begin from physiological to safety, and continue on to self –esteem,
and finally, self-actualization. (Maslow, 1943, 370-396) Herzberg’s view of
motivation factors, i.e., sense of achievement, recognition for work, interest
in the work itself, taking responsibility, and growth experiences, correspond
with Maslow’s view on self –actualization and self-esteem as factors
motivating people. Unlike Maslow, Herzberg points out that people are
motivated on the basis of their fulfilled needs. They work better when they
feel responsible, are recognized, and are satisfied. Maslow contends that
people are moved to volunteer with the hope that it will satisfy their unmet
needs.
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Comparison of Maslow’s and Herzberg’s Motivational Theories and Relationship
with Highest-Rated Motivational Factors
Highest Rated Motivational Factors
(Result of Author’s Research)
Maslow’s
Herzberg’s
Enjoyable and Interesting Work
Belonging,
Esteem
Recognition,
Relationships
Sense of importance of the task
Fulfillment
Work itself,
Responsibility
Opportunity to serve God/others
SelfFulfillment
Growth,
Achievement
Opportunity to grow and
develop
SelfActualization
Responsibility,
Achievement
The higher-order needs and the two-factor views correlate with the factors
that highly motivate persons to participate. The analysis suggests that (a)
those who volunteer seem to have met the basic lower-level needs; (b)
their goal should respond to their needs for fulfillment, self-actualization,
and growth; and (c) motivational strategies and approaches should be
based on the motivation theories.
THE STUDY, SURVEY FINDINGS AND ANALYSIS OF THE HIGHEST-RATED
MOTIVATION FACTORS
Herzberg’s and Maslow’s view are linked closely with the highest-rated
motivational factors that respondents to the questionnaire have chosen.
Russell’s view of the church as a community of hospitality corresponds with
the significant influence of a welcoming, accepting environment in getting
persons involved and committed.
The 17-item questionnaire used for this paper, entitled “What Motivates
Me,” was developed by the YMCA as part of a leadership training resource.
The study contains data gathered from individual responses from
approximately a total of 1800 participants in various classes, workshops and
seminars on Christian education and leadership development training which
I led across the US and in the Philippines. The respondents checked the
five items which they believed as most important in motivating them to
accept a volunteer position or to participate in a church experience. After
completion, they were asked to raise their hands if they marked an item.
The number of raised hands was recorded. I circled the five highest
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numbers of raised hands. In most places the respondents came up with
four factors, rather than five, highest numbers.
The four highest rated factors that make people say “yes” to church
involvement are: finding an interesting and enjoyable work/experience,
feeling the importance of the task, experience of growth and development,
and a sense of duty/service.
Let us examine the meaning and implications of those motivational factors.
A. Interesting and Enjoyable Work/Experience
Webster’s defines enjoyable as “taking pleasure or satisfaction” and
interesting as “holding the attention.” Warm atmosphere is an underlying
driving force behind the feeling of enjoyment. A creative and innovative
approach to church teaching and learning invites participation. Meeting
one’s expectations and the church’s expectations tend to give volunteer
persons a sense of enjoyment and satisfaction.
Another reason for finding church experience enjoyable and interesting is
novelty. We tend to be attracted to new or renewed learning experiences
that includes gaining of new concepts and skills. New, fresh and varied
activities replace monotony and dullness and ineffectiveness. As a
motivational theorist points out, the more interesting the task is, the less is
the departure of a person from a task, an event, or activity.
In Herzberg’s study, a satisfying and challenging task tops the list of
maintenance factors (Hackman, 1974, 128). It is worth nothing that a
well-organized task or work does not necessarily produce motivational a
significant feeling of satisfaction. However, a poorly organized task produces
dissatisfaction and emotional tension (Hackman, 126). It is, therefore,
important to present a clear-cut program and specific task assignment with
flexibility and room for suggestions and changes. Based on the importance
of an interesting and satisfying task and environment, it is a critical
challenge to enhance participation by (a) matching persons’ interest talents,
and skills with the task rather than the reverse, and (b) placing them in
settings of their choices wherein they feel comfortable and open. The right
matching enables a person to do something they already are familiar with.
To motivate people, we need to create a welcoming atmosphere, offer
novelty, and match interest and talent with the task.
B. Feeling the Importance of the Task
Persons say yes to participate fully when they feel the task is worth their
time and energy. Respondents of the questionnaire who accepted the task
to teach Sunday school tend to believe that church teaching is an effective
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way to share the faith. Thus, it is a significant task, and their acceptance to
teach is an opportunity to participate in a meaningful work. Persons
generally want to do significant tasks. Because we feel a particular church
function is important, we participate. As we come to grips on whether to
participate or choose other options, we tend to weigh the degree of
importance of the task and compare it with other motivational forces.
It seems that an underlying reason for saying yes, along with this
motivating factor is to exercise some power. In a research done on a “new
style of politics in education,” Parker Palmer and Elden Jacobs (1974)
conclude a study by claiming that people respond “when they have clear
and compelling diagnosis of the situation, when they have a meaningful
prescription, and when they have a sense of power to enforce the
prescription.” A sense of power comes when our influence makes an impact
on another. As givers, we tend to assume that what we do with and for
others, the receivers, will make a difference in their lives. Whether the task
is teaching, leading, or coordinating a program, what matters is the sense
of satisfaction in knowing that we make a helpful influence in someone’s
life.
This motivational factor is “other-directed, on the one hand, in the sense
that the appeal focuses on what the task can do for another person. On the
other hand, the factor is also inner-directed, because we tend to perceive
that to participate in an important task can give us influence, leadership,
and power.
C. Possibility for and Experience of Growth and Learning
The perception, personal assurance, and actual experience of learning and
growth encourage persons to participate in church life. Hearing stories of
enthusiastic volunteers about their growth and struggles in faith through the
church and its ministries creates positive significant images of the faith
community. Small group encounters with persons of faith provides
opportunities for learning and growth.
As Maslow has pointed out, people are motivated by unfulfilled needs.
Those who have met the lower-level needs search for personal fulfillment
and self-actualization. St. Augustine of Hippo confessed that our hearts are
restless until they find rest. When one or more dimensions of church life
leads us to personal spiritual enrichment and transformation, we get
motivated from within to give a part of ourselves in an ongoing learninggrowth journey of faith. In so doing, we discover the rewards of church
involvement.
To motivate persons to engage in church life entails an awareness of the
various opportunities for ministry, for nurture, and mission. An open,
trusting, and supportive leadership and atmosphere enhances one’s desire
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to learn. It is important that a collegial relationship exists to encourage
participation.
This motivation factor tends to account for longer commitment to
participate and slower the turnover of volunteers. The diagram below shows
the relationship of motivational basis to a person’s feeling and action. I
believe the feelings of satisfaction and dissatisfaction result from their
experience or non-experience of growth. Their feeling leads to an action to
stay or leave.
PERSON’S FEELING
DISSATISFACTION
SATISFACTION
Level of motivation
motivational basis
Inadequate learning- More growth and
growing experience learning and more
and no or less
incentive and intrinsic
incentive and reward reward
Response
Leave
Stay
Appropriate incentives and rewards, like frequent use of verbal and written
affirmation, flexibility and freedom to choose one’s own task, constructive
feedback, providing printed resources, available power to make decisions
and influence others, can enhance learning and growth.
D. Sense of Duty/Service to God
Persons who are strongly motivated by sense of duty or service to God tend
to be influenced by the norms, standards, and beliefs of their group. Those
who respond positively to church involvement rate strongly this factor,
which has been added to the original list, because of the relationship they
place on the Creator-Redeemer-Sustainer God and on their fellow beings
who share together the image-of-God nature. Saying “yes” to church
participation evokes an initial awareness of one’s Christian identity and
vocation, followed by a sense of responsibility and urgency to serve. Those
who get involved have the inner urge, not a demand from the pastor and
others, to share their spiritual gifts.
Under-girding the motivational sense of service seems to be a deep
awareness of the nature of the church and of one’s spiritual call to love and
serve our Creator. Participation reinforces who are and to whom we belong.
Our identification as God’s people and as baptized members of the Body of
Christ tends to stimulate our involvement in church ministries.
In sum, to motivate people to participate demands that the task, event, or
ministry be interesting, enjoyable, and significant, that it provides learning
and growth, and that it evokes a sense of service. These motivation forces
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occur primarily when we perceive a positive image of the church, and when
the faith community demonstrates a welcoming and hospitable spirit.
The four highly-rated motivational factors draw us to a basic assumption
that a supportive, participatory, and creative approach invokes a sense of
enjoyment, and a perception on the importance of the task. An open,
trusting environment tends to bring creativity, learning and growth, and
induces people to be open to serving others. The degree of motivation
depends largely on how the church, the faith community, fulfills its role and
functions.
The church faces the challenge to respond to the motivational needs of
person. For each motivational factor, there is a corresponding role of
the faith community and corresponding challenge.
WHY SAY YES
I enjoy it,
I feel the task is
It is interesting important
ROLE OF THE CHURCH
Community
Community of
of
meaning
hospitality
and
imagination
CHALLENGE
How the church How people
can appeal
with whom society
to people of
offers numerous
all ages and
value statements
stages of
and value itself can
life; how can
discover, internalize
the church
and own values and
use technology meaning
to effectivethrough and in
ly communithe faith
cate the
community.
faith.
I feel I grow
and develop
I have the
opportunity to
serve
Community of
learning
Community of
compassion and
service
How the faith
community can
offer creative,
dynamic,
transformative
learning to the
end that
people know
their faith,
grow in and
live out their
faith.
How people
can so truly
become aware
of the allembracing love
of God that they
become compelled
to reach out and
share that love
with others,
particulary with the
oppressed and
marginalized.
123
IMPLICATION FOR MINISTRY AND PROPOSALS TO INCREASE LAY
INVOLVEMENT IN THE CHURCH
The church that responds to the interest and needs of person of all ages
and stages of life tends to grow. Research findings reveal that megachurches of more that one thousand members have increased dramatically
within the last 25 years, particularly with the babyboomers, those born
between 1964 and 1967. This group comprises 76.4 million of U.S.
population, that is nearly one person in three in the country. Society
(Russell, 86). The El Shaddai and Jesus is Lord Church in the Philippines
can command millions of members to its gatherings. A disturbing reality of
such cultural phenomenon is the growing emphasis on personal fulfillment,
privatized approach to faith and decreasing attention and priority on
communal, religious experience. The challenge posed to the church is to
provide more exciting and meaningful ministries for small and large group
settings.
To become a community of hospitality, the church needs to be more
intentional in welcoming and accepting persons of diverse cultures, colors,
socio-economic condition and sexual orientation. Genuine acceptance is
evident in assimilating everyone into the life of the faith community.
Intentionality in planning and practice is crucial in making newcomers feel
welcome and safe. A church research once said that church visitors make
decisions whether to return or not in church within the first eleven minutes
of their visit. Long-time members need attention, care, and nurture also.
Indeed, a hospitable atmosphere can get people to participate. Fun,
stimulating learning in various interactive settings motivates people too.
Creative learning involves reaching into our imagination or our “inner
rainbow.” The use of the arts, e.g., drama, puppets, body movements, can
release powerful images, stories, and symbols that move us to action. The
arts are very effective motivating force. “We must love and trust our own
powers of imagination and be at home in the world of metaphor, poetry,
image, and art. We need to cultivate an eye for seeing clearly, an ear for
hearing better, hands for touching warmly, noses for sensing beauty. . .
Teachers and leaders with creative and healthy imagination can use
extensively the shared praxis approach of sharing life stories and hopes, in
dialogue with biblical stories and vision, for the full realization of the
kingdom of God” (Joye, 137).
We tend to say “yes” to getting involved when we feel and perceive the
importance of the task, program, or ministry. When we are involved from
the initial process of decision making and planning, we tend to take
ownership of the task. As we realize we have a stake in the program, we
want to ensure its positive outcome. While working towards providing
significant experience, leaders need to focus on the purpose of the church
and remain faithful to its inclusivity. Involvement comes as we become
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aware of the importance of every person in the church, of a church function,
a ministry, and a program. Also, as we relate the task with the teaching
and life of Jesus and see its significant impact to the church and wider
community, we become motivated.
Motivational theorists, psychologists, teachers, pastors believe that persons
are motivated to participate, to work, to learn when they feel they grow and
develop from the experience. Research studies disclose the finding that
persons tend to return to church and get involved when they are nurtured in
the faith, and they know the care they receive enhance their lives. The
“Mothers and Others” study group that I started in a church drew young
mothers who were working full-time with their young children at home.
Those mothers shared how much the study and fellowship helped them
spiritually. Their souls were fed; and now they wanted to help nurture
others. All of them became Sunday school teachers. A church in Korea
started with a group of eight meeting in homes for prayer and Bible study.
As they received nurture, they moved on to start their own groups of eight.
The church has now grown to 30,000 members.
If we expect more participation in various church functions, we are
responsible to provide enriching opportunities and life-affirming experiences
to all-ages members, constituents, visitors, and the un-churched. A helpful
starting point is spiritual formation, whereby we provide settings for person
to learn and grow in and through prayer, Bible study, and informal sharing
of faith journey. Retreat and camp experiences can encourage open
expression of faith struggles, discoveries on life and death. “Read your
Bible, pray everyday, and we grow, grow, grow…” What we learned in
kindergarten is as relevant today as it was when we were children.
An experience of the numinous presence of the Holy God can form, reform,
and transform persons’ lives. We need more planned and unplanned
worship moments and experiences to feel the reality of the Presence. The
discernment process needs to be use in church meetings, in decision
making, in our personal lives.
In covenant relationship, God blesses God’s people with faithfulness and
love and at the same time expects human creation to respond in faith and
love and service to the one and only Lord God. Our liturgy, study, and other
learning settings need to remind us of our covenant with God.
Remembering helps to keep afresh God’s loving, healing act and God’s
expectation of us. When we become aware of these through the church,
we find avenues of service as a way to fulfill our covenant.
Opportunities to demonstrate our lived faith through advocacy and practice
of social justice must be offered to motivate those who are sociallyconscious and committed to serve others. The challenge of the scriptures
to serve and not to be served and Christ’s compassionate nature compels us
to do ministry beyond ourselves.
125
In closing, we have examined in this brief proposal how persons are
motivated to participate and how motivational theories from Abraham
Maslow and Frederick Herzberg and theologian Letty Russell have provided
insights to help persons get involved, particularly in the context of the
church life. The challenge for the church is to keep alive its identity and
calling to be faith communities that
•
•
•
•
demonstrate hospitality and use the imagination,
help persons create and find meaning,
provide dynamic and life-enhancing learning,
show compassion and justice, especially with the oppressed and
marginalized
REFERENCES
Aoanan, Melano. “Teolohiya ng Bituka at Pagkain.” Anumang Hiram, Kung
Hindi Masikip ay Maluwang. Revelation Velunta, Ed. Cavite: Union
Theological Seminary, 2006.
Buenaventura, George. “God, Community, and Us.” Anumang Hiram, Kung
Hindi Masikip ay Maluwang. Revelation Velunta, Ed. Cavite: Union
Theological Seminary, 2006.
Herzberg, Frederick . “One More Time: How do You Motivate Employees?”
Harvard
Business Review, Boston, January 1968.
Maslow, Abrahama, “ A Theory of Human Motivation,” Psychological Review,
Volume 50, 1943, 370 – 396.
_____________________ Motivation and Personality New york: Harper &
Row. 1954.
National Council of YMCA. Training Volunteer Leaders: A handbook to Train
Volunteers and Other Leader of Program Groups. New York: NY. 1976.
Russell, Letty M. Church in the Round: Feminist Interpretationof the
Church. Louisville, Ky: Westminster/John Knox. 1993.
126
UKAY-UKAY THEOLOGY: A Proposal
By Lizette Tapia-Raquel
“Ukay-ukay” - has yet to be defined in Webster’s Dictionary and the Filipino
counterparts likewise fail to give it meaning. It is basically second-hand
goods from Europe, Hongkong, and other parts of the world but its
rootword is probably the Tagalog word “hukay” which means ‘to unearth.’
As early as the 1980s, it has been available in the Visayas, thus the use of
the popular term ‘ukay’ which is the Cebuano word for “hukay.” It was made
even more popular in the summer capital of the Philippines, Baguio, where
it is more commonly referred to as ‘wagwagan’ and where it has become a
tourist attraction. In some shops, people literally ‘dig out’ clothes but in
others, they are hung in poles where they can easily be examined. Some
people say that these are materials donated for charity while others say
that they are the legacy of some dead people. Nowadays, it is regarded as
a legitimate business and one can find an ukay-ukay shop almost anywhere
in the Philippines.
I. INTRODUCTION: A ‘FASHIONISTA’S’ JOURNEY
I am an eldest child but I have older female cousins, four of them in fact,
who gave me a steady supply of hand-me-downs, for what seemed to last
for a lifetime. I would only get new clothes for my birthday or Christmas.
Other than those special outfits, I practically grew up using other people’s
clothes. My other sister, Leah Joy, who is eight years younger had more
luck. Because of our age gap, by the time she was big enough to use my
clothes, they were either too frayed or too far-behind in fashion. So she
basically got new clothes. Lucky her!
Second-hand clothing is a part of our culture. It is a consequence of a more
basic reality in Filipino ethos - that of extended families. While we can
determine the degree of relationships, from the first to the sixth degree,
there is no principle that dictates how close relatives can be to each other.
In Philippine families, the ‘extendedness’ is not just manifested in the width
or the inclusivity of the fellowship, its essence is in the commitment of one
for the quality of life of another, and vice versa. It may be expressed in
simple traditions such as passing on of baby clothes and diapers from an
elder mother to a younger mother, or in the passing on of a family heirloom
such as a wedding gown from one generation to another. The former may
provide basic necessities and the latter may fulfill grander aspirations but in
both, there is a connectedness in life that goes beyond affluence and
generosity.
Affluence and purchasing power may very well afford one person to be
generous towards another but Filipino “hand-me-downs” is a passing on of
one’s treasures to someone who will treasure that which has been entrusted
upon them. The recipient is not just a ‘donor’ but a ‘trustee.’ Furthermore,
127
the act of giving does not end with the one who receives but continues and,
like water, creates ripples that extends and affects lives and relationships.
When I began to work, “power dressing” became my fashion motto. In
Makati, the business capital of the Philippines, one must look expensive and
sophisticated to fit in. So despite the heat and humidity, I often went
around in tailored suits. Much of my pay went into clothes and for the first
time my life, I loved the way I looked. This became a standard for me in
the years that followed and even today. I do not just dress to cover my
body but what I wear is an expression of who I am and who I want to be. If
you asked me to wear a skirt everyday or prohibited me from wearing
sleeveless tops, you are asking me to deny a part of myself. In my own
clothes, I can be simply me and I relish the freedom of being able to
choose and wear them as I please.
When I was still working, rewarding myself meant a trip to the nearby mall
to purchase a branded shirt or pants. Despite my limited income, I insisted
on getting the best quality. After all, “clothes make a woman.” However,
after two children and the responsibility of maintaining a household, I had
very little dispensable income. I then settled for surplus shops which were
locally made branded clothes which had minor defects. They were not bad
at all. The clothes made me feel just as good about myself even if they
were bought for a bargain. But with two growing children and the high cost
of living, my trips to the stores became few and far between. “There are
more important things,” I told myself. Looking back, although I would not
call it a time of poverty, there was a dullness in the way I presented myself.
In a way, I was limited.
About two years ago, I discovered the joy of ukay-ukay. When we were in
Baguio, I remember spending two days of our five-day vacation searching
for clothes. I cannot begin to tell you the absolute joy of seeing the rows
and rows of pants, tops, skirts, shoes and bags, all priced between a
hundred and fifty and eighty pesos. I had found fashion paradise! Today,
about eighty percent of my clothes come from ukay-ukay. Furthermore, I
have been able to share this joy with other women: my sister and sister-inlaw, seminary and church friends.
The hand-me-downs from my cousins and the bargains from the ukay-ukay
store, while they are both second-hand goods are quite different in value to
me. With the latter, I am able to choose, and while I can only ‘own’ them
after I have paid the necessary amount there is an empowering on two
levels. First, I choose what I perceive will benefit me and second, I pay the
price so that what I acquire has a literal value which gives it more worth.
On the other, those given by my cousins may provide benefits and may
even have real value but I am just a recipient of discarded goods which
they have chosen to give me. What is very evident is I was a recipient of an
act of charity. There is nothing wrong with charity but if it cultivates unequal
relationships then it can also be oppressive.
128
The phenomenon of second hand clothing stores in the Philippines, more
popularly known as “ukay-ukay,” appears to have expanded this “hand-medown” practice. While it manifests the consumerism and covetousness of
modern societies which are wasteful and decadent, ironically, it has
provided resources to persons and communities who are otherwise deprived
of a basic need - clothing. In a world where limited resources are being
systematically depleted and where there is a growing population of people
who have very little or no purchasing power, ukay-ukay is a solution to
clothe the deprived. Unexpectedly, ukay-ukay has affected not just the lives
of the poor but those of the middle class and the affluent, as well. To the
moneyed, ukay-ukay is a treasure trove for their search for vintage clothing;
to the middleclass, it provides power to achieve more distinction and class;
to the poor, it answers the basic need for clothing. Ukay-ukay has ‘clothed’
peoples as diverse as the clothing you can find in an ‘Ukay’ shop and has
been a middleground where different people meet and share a common
experience. Because of its availability and empowering effect on people, I
would like to put forward, Ukay-ukay as a paradigm in doing theology.1
II. HOLINESS AND NAKEDNESS
Before I discuss the issue of power and control in dressing and undressing
in the Bible, I will first look into how humanity, both in the Genesis account
and in early Philippine history, moved from nakedness to being covered.
In the Creation Story in Genesis, when God entrusted Adam with the
Garden of Eden, humanity required only two things: food and
companionship. After God was satisfied that they had both and had given
them the conditions and blessedness of their existence, the text reads, “The
man and the woman were both naked, but they were not embarassed.”2
Like infants, according to this account, humanity came into the world ­
naked. This puts forward a belief that nakedness was associated with
innocence and purity. The earliest state of humanity, the nakedness and
natural existence, represented a kind of innocence that was pleasing to
God. Au naturel, humanity had not yet acquired the power of
‘understanding’ and was unaffected by the dilemma of choosing good over
evil.
Similarly, in many ‘primitive’ cultures, clothing was at the minimum, if there
was any at all. Particularly in the Philippines, many ethnic groups
traditionally wore lower garments only while the upper body was left bare.
Aeta women, to this day, go topless in their own locality. Perhaps it can be
said that they have indeed remained pure: they continue to cultivate a
culture where ownership is communal, relationships are equal and all of
creation must be given integrity. Furthermore, women are not objectified or
measured in worth according to their breasts, buttocks or navels. Their
sensuality and sexuality is not separated from their character and therefore,
129
are able to experience for themselves and in relation with others a more
holistic consciousness.
However, according to the account, Adam and Eve disobeyed God and upon
eating the forbidden fruit, became aware and ashamed of their nakedness “As soon as they had eaten it; they were given understanding and realized
that they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves and covered themselves.”3
When I was reading the text and tried to picture Adam and Eve naked in
the Garden of Eden, what came to my mind was the movie, “the Blue
Lagoon,” which had for its lead female, the then very young and very
beautiful, Brooke Shields. I was too young to watch it but the trailer is
enough, even now, to remember the breathtaking beauty of a young
woman and man in a paradise-like island. The similarity of the movie and
the text begins and ends with the nakedness of both characters and the
paradise they were in. The movie celebrated the sensual nature of human
beings, while the text emphasizes the negative emotions of a woman and
man who discover their nakedness - shame.
The self-consciousness suffered by adult human beings over bare bodies is
not universal. The sense of modesty differs from culture to culture, from
person to person. In Europe and America, there are nude beaches, nude
clubs and, even, nude protests. While nudity may be deemed inappropriate
in conventional circles, there is a higher tolerance and acceptance for
people who choose to wear clothes scantily. When I went to Sweden, along
with five other students from UTS, I was a bit shocked over their manner of
dressing. We arrived at the beginning of spring and the young people and
quite a few adults seemed keen on displaying more skin. In fact, they took
advantage of every opportunity to lay down on the grass to sunbathe in the
flimsiest bikinis, and I have seen at least two persons, dive into a lake
beside a frequently used path, stark naked.
In Philippine context today, there is a contradiction in attitude towards
dressing and ‘undressing.’ Because of western influence in mass media,
Filipinos have become more liberal in their attitudes in dressing, among
other things. However, there are also remnants of Spanish religiosity which
continue to censure and restrict the manner of dressing, especially of
women. But going back in history, it has not always been like this. Before
the Spanish colonialists came, Filipino women wore no undergarments and
dressed only in thin clothing because of the tropical climate. In some tribes,
women had no top garments and only wore skirts. Then, with the advent of
Roman Catholicism which imposed a cult of virginity and purity upon
women, a standard of decency in dressing was forced upon the natives, the
women in particular. The sensuality of the female natives were demonized
and the model for female behavior and decent attire became the Spanish
nuns. The long, flowing hair of women were placed in a bun to imitate the
short hair of nuns which were tucked under a wimple and the thin clothing
was replaced with layers of garments that constricted movement and
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completely shrouded the female form. This code of dressing was an
imposition upon the natives and they did not give in without resistance. The
colonialists responded with more determination and the accounts in the
Spanish chronicles report that female Igorots who came to the towns
without upper garments were given as many as fifty lashes on their backs.4
Perhaps, it can be said that religion has been the primary motivation in the
creation of standards of decency in dressing. The Spanish, in their
chronicles on the Philippines, characterized the native women as ‘unchaste,’
‘indecent,’ and ‘lewd,’ among others.5 To the Spanish priest, who was
accustomed to the layered clothing of European women and venerated the
figurative and physical ‘image’ of the Virgin Mary who was ensconced in rich
and ceremonial robes, the native woman in lightweight and loose clothing,
which was suitable for the tropical climate of the islands, exhibited a raw
sensuality that was sinful.
To this day, there are contentions over naked bodies and the matter of
decency in dressing. But really, does nakedness separate us from God? Is it
indecent to pray to God when we do not have any clothes on? Does our
sexuality hurt our spirituality? Marcella Althaus-Reid, an Argentinian woman
theologian, at the beginning of her book, relates how women in her country
sell lemon on the streets without their underwear. The police and
missionaries, apprehend and insult them for their supposed immoral
behavior, squatting on the streets when they need to urinate. But does it
really matter whether you wear undergarments beneath your clothes, while
you are selling lemons? Or for that matter, does it matter if you do theology
without your clothes on? She puts forward ‘indecent theology’ as a method
that does not and must not deny the sexuality of persons. It is a
commitment to pronounce the realities of our sexuality in dealing with
economic, political and ecclesiological issues in relation to theology. It is an
attitude of honesty that is intent on unraveling appearances and standards
as prescribed by society, to reveal realities that may need to be challenged.
At the end of the passage, God acquiesces to Adam and Eve’s self-imposed
inhibitions - “And the Lord God made clothes out of animal skins for Adam
and his wife, and he clothed them.”6
This passage unwittingly provides a template in the “development” of
communities. The “Fall of Creation,” while it is believed to have brought sin
and punishment upon creation, also endowed humanity with “knowledge.”
In this model, the introduction and elaboration of clothing was a necessary
component in the growth of communities and societies. As communities and
societies moved towards urbanity, following the impositions of more
sophisticated cultures, apparels grew more elaborate, decorative and even
excessive. What began as an inhibition became another manifestation of
the disparity of peoples in economic standing, social status, and even races.
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III. THE POLITICS OF UNDRESSING
“There was once a rich man who dressed in the most expensive clothes and
lived in great luxury everyday. There was also a poor man named Lazarus,
covered with sores...”7
This passage provides a vivid image of the disparity between the rich and
the poor. The former is not simply clothed. He is clothed with the ‘most
expensive’ clothing. There is no mention of Lazarus’ garb, but to be covered
wih sores may be a consequence of exposure to the elements and gross
neglect. However, it is ironic that in the text the rich man is nameless while
the poor man does have a name. In the real world, the Lazaruses of society
are the ones who are nameless. As a matter of fact, they are invisible and
negligible in the eyes of many. Often, their appearance and odor can be
startling and offensive that it is easier to turn away and pretend that they
do not exist.
In the award winning song of Ryan Cayabyab, “Paraiso,” which is written
from the perspective of a youth living in the dumpsite Smokey Mountain, a
line reads “I learned to be free in paraiso. Free to claim anything I see.
Matching rags for my clothes, plastic bags for the cold...” These lines are an
assault on our perception of freedom and paradise. To many of us, freedom
is about the availability of choices and opportunities. But in the song,
freedom is the liberty to choose from the garbage and refuse of society. To
many of us, paradise is a place where everything is perfect. And yet in the
song, a dumpsite can still be a paradise if only people can care enough to
make things better. The chorus reads,
“Help me make a stand. Take me by the hand.
Make the world understand
that if I could see a single bird, what a joy!
This tired and hungry land could expect some truth
and hope and respect from the rest of the world.”
Indeed, while we endure the ‘sores,’ ‘rags’ and ‘plastic bags,’ we are
complicit in the dehumanization of the poor. Jesus posed a strong challenge
in telling the story of Lazarus and the rich man. He pronounced a
judgement of death upon the rich man. Similarly, while the song is a
hopeful statement, it likewise propounds a demand to respond and give
hope to a “tired and hungry land.”
Does this mean that we give them clothes so that they will no longer dress
in rags and plastic bags? Does this mean that we rummage through our
closets to see which clothes we can discard and give away? That is
precisely the problem. We want to cover their nakedness but we are not
concerned for their wholeness? Ultimately, their want for clothing is just an
outward manifestation of a deeper need. In donating used clothing to the
needy, they may be provided clothing but they are still limited in their
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choices. Anumang hiram, kung hindi masikip ay maluwang. The difference
between the rich man and Lazarus, in Jesus’ story is the availability of
choices. The rich man could have chosen to wear sensible clothes and not
the ‘most expensive’ ones but Lazarus had no choice but to bear the sores
that covered his body. The challenge therefore is not just to clothe the
unclothed but to give dignity to those who are deemed worthless by society.
Ukay ukay allows the poor to make choices. In a world where some people
measure the worth of another according to how they look, the poor are
denied respect and dignity at every turn. Being able to choose what you will
wear consequently provides a person choices in opportunities and
privileges. Furthermore, it is a manifestation of a person’s liberation and
empowerment.
A lack of clothing or ‘proper’ clothing does not merely reveal a person’s
deprivation, it labels a person and alienates others from her or him. In Luke
8:26-39, Jesus tells the story of a man possessed by demons. What defined
him as possessed is found in v. 27, “For a long time this man had gone
without clothes and would not stay at home, but spent his time in the burial
caves.” This was a man who was self-destructive. He would rather live
among the dead and he exhibited his self-deprecation by exposing and
wounding his own body. After the demons had departed from the man, he
was found “sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind; and
they were all afraid.”
Naked in a society that measures purity based on appearances and
modesty, the ‘man possessed by demons’ was condemned in his state of
nakedness. While nakedness may manifest that a person is a victim, it is
also perceived as a danger that is a threat to the community. In a culture
that pronounced bodily discharges as unclean,8 the naked man was a
pollutant that must be removed. In the text, the man threw himself down at
Jesus’ feet and begged Jesus not to punish him. If the man had been
demon-possessed, he would have stayed away from Jesus. But instead, he
seeks mercy from Jesus. Indeed, his move towards Jesus was an act of
desperation for help.
The text describes the man as one who isolated himself. He says that the
demon possessing him was named ‘Legion.’ Could it be that the ‘legion’ that
he mentioned was his community that had rejected and denied him
communion? Why did he separate himself from others? Did he distance
himself or was he denied by the political and social order that ruled the
people?
After Jesus had freed the man, the people were afraid and asked Jesus to
go away. This reveals the character of the people in the community. They
had allowed the alienation of the man and at his restoration, the status quo
they wanted to protect was threatened. There was no rejoicing in the
community over the restoration of the demon-possessed man. The restored
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man, on the other hand, wanted to go with Jesus. After his recovery, the
man did not seek to be reconciled to his own family and people. He instead
sought to be with Jesus even if he would be apart from those who were
more familiar to him. But Jesus does not accede to his request. Jesus
orders the man to return to his people and to tell of God’s healing in his life.
This account provides a template in the restoration or redemption of a
human being. First, it was the troubled man who sought Jesus. Second, the
man was able to identify the name of his ‘demon.’ Third, Jesus confronted
the demons. Fourth, the man is restored and is able to ‘clothe’ himself and
find the company of Jesus. Finally, while the man wanted to be with Jesus,
he was told to stay with his people.
In the act of liberation and salvation, we seek the Christ with the
understanding that the one who seeks to save us has always awaited the
moment when we ourselves want to be saved. Salvation and liberation
cannot be imposed upon any person or people. When one is able to name
one’s ‘demon,’ then one can begin to confront and resist the evil, whether it
be a physical or spiritual. Genuine wholeness or restoration is not
bestowed, rather it is process that is undertaken by persons and peoples.
Ultimately, God’s restoration is not another form of external control. It is an
empowerment that enables one to return, encounter, and overcome evil,
whatever its form may be.
Furthermore, the nakedness of the demon possessed man comes not solely
from an internal or spiritual conflict. He cannot be blamed entirely for his
predicament. No personal penance can liberate him. The image of Jesus
confronting the demons confirms that the demon is not just ‘internal’ but
‘external’ as well. The man had to be delivered from relationships that
oppressed and possessed him. Relationships and systems even ‘pigs’ cannot
endure.
Clothing the naked is not a simple one act task, it is an act of liberation
upon those who are dispossessed and whose lives have been possessed by
others. It is a restoration and an enabling that allows the victim to
reconnect the disconnected. It may be to one’s self, and it may be with
others. Most important of all, it is not achieved with a prescriptive stance
but in a commitment to be in solidarity with them.
“They stripped off his clothes and and put a scarlet robe on him...When
they had finished making fun of him, they took the robe off and put his own
clothes back on him.”9
After Jesus had been whipped in the presence of Pilate and an unruly
crowd, he was brought to the governor’s palace where the soldiers gathered
around him and ridiculed him. The movie, “The Passion of Christ,” presents
the gruesome and pitiful humiliation of Jesus’ during the flogging. Yet, the
Roman soldiers were not content with his suffering. They stripped Jesus’
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clothes and put a scarlet robe on him. With his flesh torn and bleeding,
every touch of the cloth upon Jesus’ back was a torture to him. But the
objective of these movements were no longer to inflict pain but to degrade
him even more. In many places and in many cultures, women are stripped
of their own clothes and furnished with more elaborate and becoming attire.
While they appear more pleasing, their very appearance is a denial of their
personhood and freedom.
Despite the intense pain that Jesus was suffering, he no longer resisted. His
attitude can be described as passive and distant. Perhaps, the only way he
could continue to function was to detach himself from the body that was in
agony. Human beings who undergo intense suffering sometimes seek a
different realm, separate from the physical, to sustain and survive. It is a
defense mechanism, as if to say, you cannot hurt me. Because those who
inflict pain seem to find more satisfaction when they see the victim suffer. I
have seen the look on women’s faces, as they dance in the dingy nightclubs
in Quezon City. While dance is an art form that exhibits energy, passion,
and life, what I have witnessed in bars was the self-denial, powerlessness
and lifelessness of prostituted women.
To clothe a naked body or to embellish someone’s form may be perceived
as an act of benevolence or generosity but it is not always so. It can also be
an act of domination. Under Spanish colonial rule, the native women and
their bodies were demonized. The colonialists created a new model for the
native women. She is personified in Maria Clara, Rizal’s lead female
character in the novel “Noli Me Tangere.”. She was fully covered with layers
upon layers of clothing, in the mode of European women. Concurrently, the
pre-colonial woman who had a more celebrative view of womanhood was
buried and denied. Maria Clara personified the vanquished Filipina and held
no trace of the native women’s female warriors, goddesses and ‘babaylans,’
who stood shoulder to shoulder with the men in their own contexts.10
The covering and uncovering of a human body exhibits empowerment or
disempowerment. Jacob bestowed upon Joseph “a long robe with full
sleeves” to express his special love.11 The father of the prodigal son
expressed his forgiveness and joy over the return of his son by clothing him
with the best robe.12 On the other hand, the veiling of a body may be an
expression of scorn as with Jesus when he was cloaked with a scarlet robe
before his crucifixion. The scarlet robe placed on his back is believed to be
the common cloak and uniform of a Roman soldier. It did not intend to
honor Jesus but being enveloped by a Roman soldier’s cloak symbolized
Jesus’ being overpowered by the Empire.
Queen Vashti was the wife of the powerful King Xerxes. His palace and
banquets displayed splendor, majesty, indulgence and debauchery. On the
third year of his reign, he gave a banquet in Susa which lasted for a week
and where “...the king was generous with the royal wine. There were no
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limits on the drinks; the king had given orders to the palace servants that
everyone could have as much as they wanted.”13 This was the scenario to
which Queen Vashti was commanded to appear. This was a crowd of wild,
drunken men and women who were boisterous and perhaps, lascivious. The
air was thick with sex and violence. Eric Fromm put a name to this kind of
behavior - ‘lustful aggression.’ The most common known example of ‘lustful
aggression’ is called sadism.
When King Xerxes ordered his personal servants “to bring in Queen Vashti
wearing her royal crown,” it did not mean that she be presented to the
people in her most majestic regalia. It meant that she be paraded naked,
with only her crown on. I come to this conclusion because the writer of the
account would have given a lengthy description of the clothing she had
been asked to wear for her appearance, but there was no reference to this.
In the earlier verses, the writer vividly and lengthily described curtains,
cords and even the cups. There was no reference to the clothing the king
intended her to parade in because she was asked to parade in the nude.
Furthermore, Xerxes summoned Vashti not to glorify her for her beauty but
to exhibit his absolute and complete control over her. The King who ruled
127 provinces wanted to demonstrate his power by forcing a woman to do
what he wanted even if it would be to her own detriment.
Queen Vashti denied King Xerxes’ command and her response threatened
the ideology of male supremacy. The book of Esther shows two women and
their responses to male control. Vashti denied control over her body and
sexuality while Esther used her sexuality to protect her people. The former
is an assertion of woman’s right to decide for herself and the latter has
been one of the models of women’s submission in the churches and society
today.
At the end of the first chapter, a decree was given as a result of Vashti’s
rebellion — “that every husband must be the master of his home and speak
with final authority.” The underlying issue was male authority. In many
marriages today, husbands still dictate how women dress, among other
things. Standards in decency in dressing may appear to protect a woman
but it only inhibits her from expressing herself as a human being. On the
other hand, some men ‘display’ women like objects, to exhibit their ‘prize.’
Women are seen as trophies which boost male pride and honor. In the
protection and glorification of women’s bodies, women are denied free will
and individuality.
Queen Vashti denied the order of a king to display her body but in the
1970s, the indigenous women of the Cordillera region in the Philippines
took off their upper garments, of their own free will, to express their
resistance against the government. The Chico-Dam River was a project of
the Marcos government and was to be funded by the World Bank. However,
about six villages or communities would be submerged. Along with the land,
culture, identity, and the very spirit of the people would be lost. On the day
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when the tractors, engineers, and military were at the site to begin work on
the project, the women - grandmothers and mothers of the indigenous
tribes, formed a human barricade to prevent their access to the area. In the
final act of defense, they took off their tops and their nakedness shamed
the group who were pre-dominantly men. The women spoke about being no
different from the mothers who nursed them at their breasts and that they
would defend their land with their lives. To this day, the Chico Dam River
remains in the blueprint but it will never become a reality, all because of the
Cordillera women who used their nakedness to protect their land.
The choice to dress or undress our bodies may be the ultimate measure of
one’s freedom and integrity. Our own body is evidently the one material
thing that we truly own. When we are denied the right to present our
bodies the way we want to be perceived by people around us, because of
poverty, domination or controlling relationships, then we are denied the
ability to express our innate sacred worth and ability to be co-creators with
God. We are reduced as extensions of our male or female counterparts, sex
objects on display, reproductions of models prescribed by the dominant in
society and proofs of societies’ neglect of the powerless. In the final
analysis, people like the prostitutes and beggars do not dress the way they
do to express their visions and aspirations. They present themselves as
victims not because their life’s ambition is to be such. They dress the way
they do because they have no choice.
The politics of dressing is a manifestation of society and culture’s view of
human life. While we allow the nakedness or disheveled appearance of
another human being and while we cultivate a culture that imposes or
denies clothing on peoples, we deny the wholeness and self-determination
of a human being. Going back to the Creation Story, even God respected
and accepted the will of Adam and Eve. “And the Lord God made clothes
out of animal skins for Adam and his wife, and he clothed them.”14
IV: UKAY-UKAY - A THEOLOGICAL PARADIGM
If you, at one time or another, experienced the feeling of powerlessness
inside a retail store then you can begin to understand why people go to an
Ukay-ukay store. In a mall store, while you may appear decent and even
well-off, the numbers in the price tags render you speechless and
inadequate. You dare not comment on the expensive merchandise because
to do so is to reveal your indigence and powerlessness. In your silence, you
can salvage your dignity and remain respectable in an arena where money
means power. But deep inside, there is a shame because you feel that you
do not belong there.
But there are those who cannot disguise their poverty. The color and
coarseness of their skin exhibits their hard labor, their clothes reveal their
destitution. Their behavior, while appropriate, reveals the feeling of being
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out of place. But every now and then, they endure the awkwardness to
assert that they too can “afford,” that they too have “power.”
Retail giants like SM, Robinsons, Rustans and Class A establishments like
the Rockwell and the EDSA Shangrila Malls project a luxuriousness that may
be threatening to some people. But an ukay-ukay store, is ordinary and
familiar. While the dust and the heat may be uncomfortable, people can go
into one without care for their appearance. There are no security guards nor
alarms at the door and the merchandise can be handled without fear.
Furthermore, one can purchase goods a great deal lesser than their actual
value. The customer is not powerless. The customer is affirmed because the
hard-earned money she/he worked hard to obtain allows her/him to acquire
goods that may otherwise be unaffordable.
The commercialization of goods has denied so many people of life and
rights. Profit has sacrificed the value of the work of the laborer, the health
and protection of communities have been disregarded to secure the limited
resources of the earth, and the value of money and goods have been
manipulated to benefit the already powerful and affluent. The marketplace
has cultivated a culture that continues to marginalize the powerless and
validates the greed and exploitation of the rich and those at the ‘center.’ A
critique of the marketplace can be paradigm to critique theology.
Theology should not instill fear, inadequacy and deprivation. It should not
alienate the ‘buyer’ but allow choices, movement and honesty. It should
allow people to be ‘real’ about their aspirations and limitations. People can
admit that they are poor and yet they are not deprived of the ability to use
whatever resource they have to assert their right to find their own ‘truths’
and ‘meanings.’ No one has a monopoly of the truth or discernment. More
importantly, theology should not render anyone powerless or poor. If there
is one discipline that enables one to speak as equals with others and to
express oneself with honesty and without fear, it should be theology.
Ukay-ukay as a paradigm for theology recognizes the need of all to be
clothed and to make choices. The variety and affordability of the
merchandise can provide for everyone’s needs, if only they take the time to
search for what is ‘right’ for them. Ukay-ukay, like theology, cannot be
approached with hesitation or slothfulness. It must be engaged with energy
and an eagerness to find treasure or meaning in what people may have
already discarded as useless and trash. Too often, people want neat
presentations, “world-class” brand names, and uncomplicated details.
Fashion, like theology, can be a product of the dominant culture, which may
neglect the individuality and diversity of peoples. Just as there are ‘fashion­
victims’ there can also be ‘theology-victims’ They both mimic the dominant
culture but neglect the reality of their standing in relation to their own
culture and society. For theology to be meaningful and empowering, it must
reflect the struggles and aspirations of those in the margins. Similarly,
clothing, to be able to define a person and be appropriate for her/his
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context, must consider the body, the environment, and the essence of the
person.
The difference between mall stores and ukay-ukay is not just in its
merchandise or the marketplace, it is also very evident in the relationship
between the buyer and the seller. In the former, there is an unequal
relationship between the seller and the buyer. The seller commands a price
that may choose to serve only the moneyed and ensure the denial of the
common person. Some products are overpriced and while they ensure more
profit and provide an added-value of status and exclusivity, there is really
no material benefit other than its ‘perceived value.’ The seller puts one over
the buyer by selling a product for much more than it is worth and the irony
is, the buyer is fulfilled with the exchange. Furthermore, it does nothing for
the laborer but continues to enrich the capitalists. These luxury goods also
require the pampering of the consumer and it necessitates the servitude of
the salespeople in the marketplaces.
In ukay-ukay, buyer and seller have a more equal relationship. While the
seller may command the price, the buyer understands that as the weeks or
days pass by, the merchandise will decrease in price. Most goods begin at a
hundred and fifty and they go as low as twenty pesos each. The buyer then
can decide if she/he really wants the item or if she/he is willing to forego
the item and wait until it is lower in price. That means the buyer takes the
risk of having the desired item bought by another prospective customer.
Furthermore, the prices are not fixed. The act of bargaining between buyer
and seller is a normal practice and both end up satisfied. The salesperson
does not need to take on a subservient attitude and can be relied on to give
honest opinions on how the clothes look on the buyer.
The reality of unequal relationships is not just evident in the marketplace
but also in the use of theology. For many third-world countries and ethnic
peoples, imperialists have used theology to impose on and colonize a
people. Carolyn Brewer, in her study of religion, gender and sexuality in the
Philippines during the Spanish occupation aptly calls the conversion of the
early natives by the priests as ‘holy confrontation.’ Their conversion was not
a persuasion but an imposition which denounced the natives’ history,
community and spirit. In some churches today, theology continues to lay
the foundation for injustice. Not only is there a monopoly in the task of
theology, where church leaders deny the common people’s search for
meaning and impose a ‘universal theology’ that falls short in responding to
the needs and aspirations of the people, some clergy also continue to
cultivate patriarchy which is “the basic principle underlying not only the
subordination of women to men but of one race to another, of colonies to
master nations, of believers to clergy. In other words, patriarchy is the
nerve of racism, ageism, classism, colonialism, and clericalism.”15 In
believing and teaching that there will always be rich and poor, powerful and
weak, separation of the sexes and classes, church people are complicit in
human rights violations.
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Ukay-ukay theology provides a paradigm for relationships between the
theologian and the common people. The theologian as the seller and the
common person as the buyer, in the ukay-ukay model, have a symbiotic
relationship. There is a mutual need and benefit, unlike in the relationships
in the commercial stores where benefit is unequal. However, there is still a
limitation to this ukay-ukay model. While there is a dialogue between the
seller and the buyer, it is still a one-direction relationship. The buyer is still
the ‘recipient’ and the seller is still the ‘source.’ Theology must go beyond
this relationship. God’s revelation does not come from one direction only
but must be a result of a community’s genuine search for meaning and truth
based on earthly experiences that affect life and survival.
In the book “Island of Tears, Island of Hope: Living the Gospel in a
Revolutionary Situation,” Fr. Niall O’Brien challenges Christians to learn from
the poor. He says that as we seek to help the poor, we must discipline
ourselves to learn from them, to allow them to teach us. But they do not
teach us human wisdom but life itself. As we seek solutions not “for” them
but “with” them, we experience the presence and redeeming work of God.
As we seek to change their situation, we too grow as human beings. We
grow with them in fellowship, in self-reliance, in self-worth that will
hopefully lead to their transformation and ours. He writes, “God is the God
of life. Where people are crying out for life, God is there. And if we are
there, we will encounter God in ways beyond our comprehension.”16
The success of ukay-ukay in the Philippines authenticates the poverty of so
many people. It is also a product of globalization which allows the entrance
of second hand goods at very low tariff rates which allows them to be sold
even more cheaply than new products manufactured locally. Ukay-ukay as a
paradigm for relationships in a community and for doing theology does not
provide a perfect model. It comes from a need to make sense of human
experiences, particularly of the deprived. It engages reality right where it is
and where the people are. It seeks to find God’s acts in the ‘here and now.’
But with an awareness that it is not encompassing or timeless.
Furthermore, like the products of the ukay-ukay, its deconstruction brings
no fear as long as it creates more genuine articulations of faith and hope.
Finally, it is a form of resistance to Western theologies which fall short in
expressing the aspirations, pains and hopes of the Filipino people.
“Anumang hiram, kung hindi masikip ay maluwang.” The irony is ‘ukay-ukay’
is not really our own and more often than not, they are either too tight or
too loose. But how we have used them to benefit persons, families and
communities provides us a new theology for the masses. The powerful and
the empowering effect of ukay-ukay, especially to the poor in the Philippines
is unknown anywhere else in the world. For this reason alone, we can call it
our own.
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Endnotes
1 Ukay-ukay may benefit some people but it has also been detrimental to
the local textile and clothing industry. With the influx of second hand items
which have low-tariff rates due to golobalization, the phenomenon has
caused the unemployment of skilled sewers and has caused the ruin of
small and medium scale entrepreneurs of the industry. There have also
been reports of child labor and unfair labor practices. Undeniably, the
abundance of ukay-ukay goods is a manifestation of a greedy and
materialistic society which never seems to have enough and continues to
waste the earth’s limited resources in a vicious cycle of acquiring and
disposing of non-essential goods.
2 Genesis 2.25
3 Genesis 3:7
4 Carolyn Brewer, ‘Holy Confrontation:Religion, Gender and Sexuality in the
Philippines, 1521-1685, Institute of Women’s Studies, St. Scholastica’s
College, 2001, pp. 268-270
5 Ibid, p. 36.
6 Genesis 3:21
7 Luke 16:19-20
8 Leviticus 15
9 Matthew 27:28, 31
10 The pre-colonial Filipina, according to the construction of early Filipino
myths, had creative power, could assert her desire for authority and selfdetermination, was equally capable as their male counterparts and had
individual and distinct personalities. In Philippine epics, the warrior and the
priestess were the gender icons. The male warrior and the female priestess
practiced mutuality and interdependence in fulfilling their roles. Their
contribution to the community were considered to be equally valuable.
Finally, in pre-colonial history, the datu (political leader), the panday
(economist and technologist) and the babaylan (priestess) were held in
equal regard and were considered vital in community life.
11 Genesis 37
12 Luke 15:11-31
13 Esther 1
14 Genesis 3:21
15 Sandra Schneiders, ‘Women and the Word,’ Paulist Press, 1986, p.13.
16 Niall O’ Brien, ‘Island of Tears, Island of Hope: Living the Gospel in a
Revolutionary Situation,’ Quezon City: Claretian Publications, 1994.
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JEEPNEY HERMENEUTICS31
Beating Swords into Ploughshares
By Revelation E. Velunta
Our country’s history has been up for grabs, like its
wealth, and everyone has grabbed it except our people.
We do not figure in the narrative, except as sidekicks
who get rapped in the head and get to be called pango
and pandak and negro to provide comic relief. We do
not figure in that movie, except as foils and extras to
make the leading men and women look good.
-Conrado de Quiros
INTRODUCTION
Biblical Studies in the Philippines have been a stronghold of colonial
scholarship for over a century, especially among Protestant Churches.
Denominations refuse to go autonomous and continue to depend on
“mother” institutions in the United States. Church buildings and institutions
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are named after “benevolent” foreign church leaders and missionaries.
Many seminaries continue to privilege European-American teachers (who
are paid in dollars by foreign boards) over Filipinos (who are paid in pesos
and usually way below the living wage). A handful of these missionaries
still hold leadership positions in many seminaries. Of course, the medium
of instruction remains the “Master’s Tongue,” English. Libraries are still
filled with books from Europe and the U.S., and continue to receive
donations of old ones from the First World. It is not uncommon to find
teachers and students who take pride in being called disciples of Barth or
Bultmann or Niebuhr. In fact, many pastor’s children whose names are Karl
or Paul were named after Barth and Tillich.
Kwok Pui-lan rightly observes: “In theological education, a large part of the
curriculum has been the study of the lives and thoughts of white, male,
Euro-American theologians, to the exclusion of many other voices. More
importantly, the theologies done by these people are considered normative,
which set the standards and parameters of what ‘theology’ should be.”
Traditional historical critical methods remain the key reading paradigm.
Establishing what texts meant is the first step toward discerning what they
mean today. Interpretations that follow strict historical critical
methodologies are praised and characterized as “correct exegesis,”
“scholarly,” and “objective.” Interpretations that do not follow this so-called
fundamental paradigm are labeled, at best, “interesting,” or at worst,
“eisegesis.”
R.S. Sugirtharajah argues: “Historical-critical methods were not only colonial
in the sense that they displaced the norms and practices of our indigenous
reading methods, but in that they were used to justify the superiority of
Christian texts and to undermine the sacred writings of others… These
methods are colonial because they insist that a right reading is mediated
through the proper use of historical-critical tools alone…” For example, look
at the opening of George Strecker’s The Sermon on the Mount: An
Exegetical Commentary (1988): ‘No proper exegesis of the Sermon on the
Mount can ignore the research of more than two hundred years of
historical-critical research into the New Testament’” (1998a:126).
Many Filipino Protestants know more about Bible and American history than
their own, and they read the Bible the way their colonial masters did and
still do because they have been socialized for generations that this is the
correct way. Filipino social scientists call this collective condition of the
Filipino psyche as colonial mentality. Historian Renato Constantino traces it
to the systematic mis-education of the Filipinos. Theologian Eleazar
Fernandez argues that the Philippines can be called a “mental colony” of the
United States of America.
But side by side with this “reading the Bible the way our masters do” is the
wealth of Filipino reading strategies that engage the Bible in unexpected
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ways. Larry Caldwell, in “Towards the New Discipline of Ethno­
hermeneutics: Questioning the Relevancy of Western Hermeneutical
Methods in the Asian Context,” illustrates this as he narrates his experience
in the Philippines:
The more I taught the more frustrated I became. I gave
my students assignments to read each night in the confines
of the well-stocked school library (with all the books written
in English). I did this even though I knew that, upon
graduation, these financially poor students would receive a
packet containing a dozen or so theological books (in
English). For most this would be the extent of their access
to any kind of theological library for the remainder of their
lives. I knew that something was gravely wrong, but what
was it? I eventually came to question the appropriateness
of my western methods in this non-western context.
Everything had been imported from the West, including
most of the faculty, the books, and the curriculum.
Everything that was taught relied heavily on the western
trappings of book knowledge and library research.
Nowhere was this more apparent to me than in my
Interpreting the Bible class. Here I diligently taught my
students the “proper” methods of Bible interpretation and
they just as diligently wrote down and memorized
everything I said. I taught them the finer points of Bible
interpretation, from initial exegesis to sermon preparation.
Several of my students did surprisingly well in class. Most
struggled. And then, on the weekends, I would accompany
them to their rural church field education assignments and
listen to them preach in their churches. Here was my
chance to observe them putting into practice what they had
so painstakingly learned in my classroom. Or so I thought.
In stark contrast to the exegetically correct and logically
constructed three point sermons they had prepared in class,
what I heard were sermons full of allegories and folksy
illustrations, with a storyline that seemed to run circles
around a loosely constructed main point. They were
exegeting the Bible in ways that would earn them a failing
grade in the classroom. I was one disconcerted
hermeneutics professor! My frustrations, however, lessened
over time as I began to realize that my students were
making sense to their audience. They were communicating
the truths of the Bible in ways that the people from their
own rural culture understood. They were communicating
the gospel. And they were doing so, for the most part,
using non-western hermeneutical methods.
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Jeepney hermeneutics, as an explicitly decolonizing reading, is one of these
non-western hermeneutical methods. The term “jeepney” can mean several
things. According to Conrado de Quiros, “the Jeepney is basically an
extension of the Filipino home.” He continues:
From a plain-looking contraption the Americans used before
and during the War, an object known only for its resolute
utility, it has become a walking, or crawling, well, call it
what you will. Some call it “folk art,” others call it a
monstrosity. It has enlarged on the scope of utility. It can
now fit more people than the original jeep. Just by how
much, you will know if you have taken a jeepney in the
province, which mushrooms with people on the entrance
steps, at the back, and on the roof.
Also, for many people, “jeepney” denotes “Made in the Philippines” or
“Proudly, Philippine-made.” De Quiros calls jeepneys gaudy displays of the
magical, demented, colorful, chaotic, fun-loving, incontinent Filipino spirit.
It also denotes characteristics or traits uniquely Filipino, like the people’s
hospitality, their humor, their love for music, etc. Robert Ong calls it
“pambansang simbolo… kasing ordinaryo ito ng bigas, bentilador, at pagligo
araw-araw… hindi ka lang basta nakaupo sa isang sasakyan, nakasakay ka
sa isang kultura.” (Jeepneys are national symbols… they are as ordinary as
rice, electric fans, and taking a bath every day. A jeepney ride is more than
just a ride in a vehicle, it is a cultural experience.)
According to Gerald Arbuckle, “A people can communicate, transmit, and
hand over their culture to the coming generations by means of symbols.
And the whole gamut of their knowledge, values, beliefs, and outlook in life
is thus transmitted.” For Victor Turner, symbols are “almost every
article...every gesture...every song or prayer, every unit of space and time
that stands for something other than itself. It is more than it seems, and
often a good deal more.” Simply put, a jeepney symbolizes the Filipino. It
is also, as I will argue, a “text of resistance.” And Jeepney hermeneutics
are uniquely Filipino ways of interpreting texts, particularly biblical texts.
WHOSE STORY IS IT?
Whose story is it? Isagani Cruz teaches his students to always ask this
question of any text. On the shores of Mactan Island, in Central Philippines,
there stand two monuments, both memorializing April 27, 1521. The first
one was erected in 1941 when the Philippines was still a U.S. colony. The
other was erected six years after the U.S.-sponsored Independence Day on
4 July 1946. These monuments serve as testament to the reality that there
are at least two ways to tell a story. There are other ways of reading. And,
as I will argue, there are legion.
Franklin Balasundaran wrote EATWOT in Asia: Toward a Relevant Theology.
It traces the history and impact of the Ecumenical Association of Third­
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World Theologians from its inception in 1976. It points to capitalism,
feudalism, imperialism, and neo-colonialism as the forces that continue to
oppress people in Asia, particularly people in the Philippines. Filipinos are
among the most colonized peoples in the world having been under several
colonial masters for over four centuries. Eleazar Fernandez points out that,
“perhaps, more than any Third World peoples, Filipinos despise their own
selves, their culture, their heritage, and the products of their own hands.
Many like to think of themselves as little, brown Americans.” Epifanio San
Juan argues that literary production among Filipinos continues to be largely
beholden to methods and theories from the West, particularly the United
States.
Randolf David, in his “Ang Pagkagapos ng Agham Panlipunang Pilipino (The
Bondage of Filipino Social Sciences)” is more explicit: “Ang maka-Pilipinong
pananaliksik… ay hindi maisasagawa hangga’t hindi tayo nakaka-alpas sa
pagkatali sa mga teorya’t konseptong Amerikano na patuloy na lumalason
sa ating kamalayan.” (Authentic pro-Filipino studies … will never materialize
unless we unshackle ourselves from our bondage to American theories and
concepts that continue to poison our consciousness.) David thus echoes J.
Galtung’s argument that “imperialism is so paralyzing, so alienating a
system that it must be demolished before any serious development can take
place.” Helen Graham adds that as long as imperialism is in place, genuine
peace is not possible.
Fernando Segovia defines the imperial-colonial framework as the structural
reality practiced in terms of a primary dynamic:
on the one hand, a political, economic, and cultural center,
more often than not symbolized by a city or metropole, on
the other hand, any number of margins, colonies, politically,
economically, and culturally subordinated to the center….
(T)his primary dynamic entails and engenders in turn any
number of secondary binomials: civilized/uncivilized;
modern/primitive; cultured/barbarian. This reality should
not be seen as uniform in every imperial context across
time and culture but as maps or broad representations; and
this reality is of such reach and such power that it affects
and colors the entire artistic production of both center and
margins, especially their literary production. Yet, in the
wake of this reality lies the inverted, deconstructing, de­
colonizing dynamic of resistance, where the margins
actually take the initiative, while the center is forced into a
reactive position.
Fernandez points out, “Though subjected to the most sophisticated political
machinations and cultural genocide, the Filipino soul has never been totally
crushed.” This coincides with Fernando Segovia’s last point above that “in
the wake of imperial reality lies the inverted, deconstructing dynamic of
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resistance… where the margins actually take the initiative.” “Resistance,”
according to Renato Constantino, “is the unifying thread of Philippine
history.”
“No uprising fails. Each one is a step in the right direction.” Reynaldo Ileto
memorializes this famous saying of peasant leader Salud Algabre in his
Pasyon and Revolution. Algabre was one of the leaders of the antiAmerican Sakdal uprising in 1935. The quote is from an interview she gave
in 1968. Ileto comments that her words affirm that each resistance
movement, in whatever form it is mounted against the empire, against
colonial and now neocolonial rule, learns from the experience, particularly
the mistakes, of its predecessors. Though an uprising leads to failure, it
helps pave the way for it becomes part of that “archival power” that
eventually leads to victory.
From this growing archive of Filipino resistance discourses I will highlight
three nationalists whose works continue to influence many others’, including
my own: Jose Rizal, Virgilio Enriquez, and Conrado De Quiros.
THE STORIES RIZAL, ET. AL., TOLD
More than anything else, colonialism—especially in its current forms—is a
textual project. Yet, as Lawson and Tiffin point out, the textual
offensiveness of colonial authority was met and challenged by a radical and
dissenting anti-colonial counter-textuality. They add:
Just as fire can be fought by fire, textual control can be fought by
textuality… The post-colonial is especially and pressingly concerned
with the power that resides in discourse and textuality; its resistance,
then, quite appropriately takes place in—and from—the domain of
textuality, in (among other things) motivated acts of reading (10).
No contemporary discussion of anti-colonial counter-textuality is complete
without presenting the work of Franz Fanon (1925-1961) with its three
themes—as Deborah Wyrick argues—of the reality of colonialism, the search
for identity, and the process of decolonization. Wyrick writes: In Black Skin,
White Masks, Fanon tackes self identity by arguing that colonialism, with its
explicit conceptual underpinnings of white racial superiority over non-white
peoples, has created a sense of division and alienation in the self-identity of
the non-white colonized peoples. The history, culture, language, customs
and beliefs of the white colonizers are, under colonialism, to be considered
as universal, normative and superior to the local indigenous culture of the
colonized. This creates a strong sense of inferiority in the colonized subject
and leads to an adoption of the language, culture and customs of the
colonizers by the colonized as a way of compensating for these feelings of
inferiority in their self-identity.
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Wyrick points out that in Dying Colonialism and Toward the African
Revolution, Fanon focuses on the struggle against colonialism in his concern
with history. For Fanon, the work of the struggle against colonialism
involves the ‘claiming back’ of their own history by the colonized from the
negative or nonexistent versions of it produced by the colonizers. He
stresses the vital importance of the culture and representations of their past
being central to the creation of both new positive forms of subject formation
and new forms of social organization which are necessary in the newly
independent post-colonial era. I would argue that Fanon’s emphasis on the
creation or rediscovery of new forms of history or the understanding of
history in the plural shows some affinity with Rizal’s Morga, which I will
discuss later. Wyrick continues: The Wretched of the Earth, published in
1961 with a preface by one of his intellectual influences, Jean-Paul Sartre, is
a passionate and revolutionary work of political critique and is one of the
cornerstones of post-colonial theory. For Fanon, ‘colonialism is not satisfied
merely with holding a people in its grip and emptying the native’s brain of
all form and content. By a kind of perverted logic, it turns to the past of the
oppressed people and distorts, disfigures and destroys it.
The process of decolonization relates to the third stage of Fanon’s critical
activity. Wyrick argues that along with the reclamation and reconstruction of
their own history and culture as the basis for the new post-colonial forms of
nation and national identity, Fanon also discusses two further ideas that are
of vital interest to later post-colonial work. These are concepts of ‘colonial
space’ and ideas surrounding the role of the middle-class intelligentsia in
these new nations. Both of these ideas stem from Fanon’s understanding
that it is important for postcolonial nations to develop new forms of social
democracy rather then utilize existing colonial institutions and simply fill
existing administrative positions with indigenous people.
Discussions of anti-colonial counter-textuality should also include the work
of Filipino national hero Jose Rizal (1861-1896). Born 64 years before
Fanon and quite possibly the most famous anti-colonial from the Philippines,
Rizal’s program of counter-textuality is most embodied in his trilogy—Noli
Me Tangere (1886), his annotation of Antonio Morga’s 1609 ethnography
Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas (1890), and El Filibusterismo (1891). In the
Noli, Rizal tackles the reality of colonialism in the Philippines. In his
annotation of Morga, he goes on a quest for Filipino identity. In the Fili, he
offers his project for decolonization.
Encyclopedia Britannica describes Rizal’s Noli as “a passionate exposure of
the evils of Spanish colonial rule in the Philippines.” The ten-volume work
on Philippine history, Kasaysayan: The Story of the Filipino People, offers
Rizal’s own take on the Noli:
I have tried to do what no one has been willing to do; I
have had to reply to the calumnies which for centuries have
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been heaped upon us and our country; I have described the
state of our society, our life, our beliefs, our hopes, our
desires, our laments, our grievances. I have unmasked the
hypocrisy, which, under the cloak of religion, came among
us to impoverish us, to brutalize us. I have distinguished
the true religion from the false, from the superstition, from
that which traffics with the sacred word to extract money,
to make us believe foolishness which Catholicism would
blush at if it had knowledge of it. I have unveiled what lay
behind the deceptive and brilliant words of our government;
I have told our compatriots our faults, our vices, our
culpable complacence with these miseries.
Kasaysayan continues:
In the Noli Rizal showed the pitiful condition of the
Philippines and the Filipinos. In his annotation of Morga, he
would ask and answer relevant questions: Was it always
that way? What was the condition of the Filipinos at the
coming of the Spaniards? What was their real spirit that
could have developed without Spanish intrusion? Had that
spirit been repressed or helped to develop?” Rizal’s preface
reads: “In the Noli, I began the sketch of the present state
of our country. The effect which my attempt produced made
me understand that before continuing to unveil to your eyes
other succeeding pictures [the alternatives to be proposed
in the El Filibusterismo] I must first make known the past
so that it may be possible to judge better the present and
to measure the path which has been traversed these
centuries…. If this book succeeds in awakening in you the
consciousness of our past, which had been blotted out from
our memories, and in rectifying what has been falsified by
calumny, then I will not have labored in vain. With this
foundation, tiny as it may be, we can all dedicate ourselves
to studying the future.
El Filibusterismo, Noli’’s sequel, offers a philosophical and political
framework for discussing the future of the Philippines. As Kasaysayan
points out: “That was the main purpose of Fili, having presented the
condition of the country in the Noli, and having looked at its past spirit in
the Morga, Rizal was now asking what was to be done for the future.”
Rizal’s proposal for the future is captured by the words of the priest, Father
Florentino, to the dying Simon at the end of the novel: “He (God) has not
forsaken those people that in times of decision have placed themselves in
his hand and made him judge of their oppression. I know that his arm has
never been wanting when with justice trampled underfoot and all other
resources exhausted, the oppressed have taken up the sword and fought for
their homes, wives, children, and inalienable rights. God is justice and he
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cannot abandon his own cause, the cause of freedom without which no
justice is possible.”
To better understand Rizal’s works one must have a grasp of the “stories”
the Spaniards told about the natives, the “Indios.” Kasaysayan quotes
Bishop Gainza of Nueva Caceres, writing in 1863, pointing out that the
natives owe their good qualities to the Church and Spain, “to the nation that
at great sacrifice brought culture and civilization to their shores, and to the
indefatigable toils of the missionaries who had labored to lift them from the
degradation of their ancestors.” Gainza goes on to describe the natives’
degradation: “They lived in the midst of eternal hatred and vengeance,
hunting one another down in the thick forests, without other law than that
of oppression, without other right than force, ignorant or contemptuous of
the eternal principles of justice, and bowing their heads before ridiculous
figures, symbols of repugnant cynicism.”
Edward Said, whose Orientalism (1978) has been called the “founding text
or source book through which marginality itself has acquired the status of a
discipline in the Anglo-American academy” (Gandhi:65), has argued that
“Never was it the case that the imperial encounter pitted an active Western
intruder against a supine or inert non-Western native; there was always
some form of active resistance, and in the overwhelming majority of cases,
the resistance finally won out” (xii).
Rizal raised a similar argument, in his 1889 essay “The Philippines A
Century Hence,” when he said, “The Filipino is in a state of rebellion against
Spain, one that cannot be stopped or contained. Either the Spaniard gives
way, or he will be swept away. History does not record any enduring rule of
one people over another, who belong to different races, with distinct usages
and customs, with adverse or divergent ideals… The advancement and
moral progress of the Philippines is inevitable; it is fated.”
There are historians who argue that Rizal’s life, works, and martyrdom at 35
inspired not only the Andres Bonifacio-led revolution of 1896 (that
eventually defeated Spain in 1898), nor the various uprisings during the
U.S. occupation of the islands, but also the recent People Power uprisings—
EDSA 1 (that overthrew the U.S.-sponsored dictatorship of Ferdinand
Marcos in 1986) and EDSA 2 (that removed another U.S.-sponsored
dictatorship, Joseph Estrada’s, in 2001).
ENRIQUEZ AND DE QUIROS
Contemporary Filipino resistance discourses address the colonial mentality
among Filipinos resulting from America’s civilizing mission. Fred Atkinson,
the first American General Superintendent of Education in the Philippines
inaugurated over a century of racist public education in the islands when he
remarked: “The Filipino people, taken as a body, are children and childlike,
do not know what is best for them ... by the very fact of our superiority of
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civilization and our greater capacity for industrial activity we are bound to
exercise over them a profound social influence”(Schirmer, 1987: 43-44).
A recent UNESCO report shows the continuing pervasive influence of
America on the educational system of the Philippines. Findings show that
textbooks and materials for most of the courses offered are still in English,
that most books are imported or authorized copies that carry illustrative
materials alien to students, that research work continue to be reported in
English, and that graduate research work—either by local scholars or by
foreign scholars—follow the models and methodologies developed in the
West. Jaime Bulatao observes: “At present the typical psychology
department in the Third World sports books and journals ninety-five percent
of which come from the Western world. Since the behavioral research they
contain have been mostly on Western subjects, there arises an obligation to
put a sign that read something like this: The Philippine Minister of
Education and Culture has certified that the behavioral conclusions of these
articles are true for the American population but not necessarily true for
Filipinos. Readers should beware for their intellectual health.”
Probably the most widespread attempts at decolonizing the miseducated
Philippine educational system came from the work of the late psychologist
Virgilio Enriquez. I would describe his program as an example of resisting
the American version of the “English Text” (Gandhi: 144). Leela Gandhi
argues that English literature is arguably the most influential medium for
the colonial civilizing mission. The introduction of “English Education” in
India was defended on the grounds that a “single shelf of a good European
Library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia” (144). It
is therefore not surprising that, to this day, competence in English
(literature, theories, method, concepts, etc.) remains the benchmark for
excellence in Philippine society. Enriquez advocated for the opposite. He
privileged the vernacular.
The anthology Sikolohiyang Pilipino: Isyu, Pananaw, at Kaalaman edited by
Allen Aganon and Ma. Assumpta David, RVM, offers an in-depth study of the
Enriquez School. Virgilio Enriquez’s “indigenization from within” (1970), as
an example of “culture-as-source” theory, refers to the use of concepts
native to one’s immediate social context. He explains:
In the first printed English book on psychological testing
in the Philippine setting (Carreon, 1923) it can be seen
that Filipino educational psychologists insisted on
modifying items found in psychological tests as a first
step towards the full indigenization of Philippine mental
testing. This was because the tests and their underlying
assumptions were borrowed. This is precisely the type
of ‘indigenization’ which is generally appreciated and
understood outside the confines of the native culture.
What is ignored is the fact that the native culture has
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time-tested ways of mental and behavioral assessment
which need not be ‘indigenized’ for they are already
indigenous to the culture….
Enriquez’s program, labeled Sikolohiyang Pilipino, uses the vernacular as “a
tool for the identification and rediscovery of indigenous concepts and as an
appropriate medium for the delineation and articulation of Filipino realities
hand in hand with the development of a literature that embodies the
psychology of the Filipino people.” He explains the importance of using the
vernacular:
The problems with the token use of Filipino
psychological concepts in the context of a Western
analysis that relies on the English language and English
categories of analysis are many. It no doubt can lead to
the distortion of Philippine social reality and the
furtherance of the miseducation of the Filipinos…
Instead of token use of Pilipino, full use of the language
would easily and naturally avoid the preoccupation with
words and bound morphemes and the fear that such
words cannot be translated to English. Presumably
because of this fear, pseudo-translations become
associated with the Filipino word as if it is an accurate
equivalent (like hiya as “shame” and not as “propriety”).
Enriquez points out that
indigenous concepts need not be concepts peculiar only
to the Philippines, but the concepts should possess
specific meaning very close and real to the Pilipino…
Also, Sikolohiyang Pilipino’s insistence on using the
vernacular turns the American-diagnosed problem of
regionalism and language diversity into a blessing.
Ethnic diversity and consciousness enriches national
culture and helps define the multi-faceted Filipino
psyche.
The program is slowly but surely gaining acceptance in the country.
Sikolohiyang Pilipino as a subject was first offered at the University of the
Philippines in 1978. It is still offered at the UP, and in a few other
universities. I have yet to see Sikolohiyang Pilipino systematically
implemented in Protestant seminaries.
Unlike Enriquez who privileged the vernacular, Conrado de Quiros writes
most of his essays in English and thus, like Jose Rizal who wrote in Spanish,
knows how to curse in the master’s tongue. De Quiros’s works illustrate
protest “out of” rather than “against” the cultural vocabulary of
colonialism(Gandhi:148).
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If Enriquez’s locus is the classroom, De Quiros’ essays reach a wider
audience. The short story writer, essayist, and political commentator’s
works, according to former Senator Nikki Coseteng, allow us to see clearly
the way things were, and seeing how things were, help us see clearly the
way things are and how they should be. De Quiros’ program of mental
decolonization begins with history lessons. These lessons show Filipinos
that they are not the “pagans and tailless brown monkeys” their colonizers
have painted them to be. The process also involves coming to terms with
the fact that Filipinos do not have a glorious past that was somehow
devastated by the colonial horde the way Peruvian civilization was. Filipinos
also do not have to believe that American colonial and neocolonial rule did
not alter their consciousness in a thoroughgoing way. What they need to
understand is that they were not the savages that had to be delivered
spiritually and physically to the light. They need only to see that the
process by which they became “westernized” was not a simple one of
pouring things into an empty receptacle but a complex one of mixing many
things. Simply put, for De Quiros, Filipinos are not what William McKinley,
before the Methodists in 1899, described as “unfit for self-government” and
needing “education, upliftment, civilization, and Christianity.”
They are also not the “decadent and barbarous race” Senator Alfred
Beveridge described before the US Senate in 1900. “On the contrary,” De
Quiros argues,
Filipinos—quite independent of the United States’
civilizing mission—produced a Jose Rizal and an
Apolinario Mabini who had the most progressive ideas
about government. They did not include one people
ruling another… Filipinos are also a people bursting with
creativity. Their ability to use adversity to their
advantage is a thing to behold.” De Quiros points out:
“One prime example is the way Filipinos have
transformed the Barong Tagalog into the country’s
national costume. The origin of the barong was the
transparent or translucent clothes the Americans ordered
the Indios to wear to prevent them from carrying knives
on their persons. This was so particularly after the
Samar incident, where a group of Filipinos feigning a
funeral procession sneaked into an American camp and
decimated its ranks. Look what the Filipino has done to
those clothes; he has turned them from an object of
humiliation to one of national pride. That is cleverness,
that is creativity, within the context of rebelliousness or
a desire to be free. The Filipino hasn’t just developed an
instinct for self-preservation, he has developed an
instinct for self-expression.
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FROM SWORDS INTO PLOUGHSHARES
Rizal’s annotation of Antonio Morga’s Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas,
Enriquez’s Sikolohiyang Pilipino, De Quiros’s rereading of Philippine history,
the jeepney, and the Barong Tagalog are examples of the Filipinos’ capacity
to “beat swords into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks.” There
are more. Many pastors point out that the bells in several churches in
Northern Luzon came from mortar shells circa World War II. Community
workers in Mindanao share poignant stories of young musicians who
transformed rifle barrels into flutes. From mortar shells to church bells,
from implements of death to instruments of music, Filipinos have turned
weapons of mass destruction to symbols of mass celebration.
According to Rosalinda Acupanda-McGloin, in Tinikling: The Art of Becoming
Filipino, most people associate the Tinikling, the bamboo dance, with the
barrio fiesta: a village annual thanksgiving festivity and an occasion for
reunions and community celebrations, full of fun and merriment, music and
dance, and skill competitions. Tinikling is a dance of skilled artistry of foot
movement and grace. It is a battle between dancer’s feet and bamboo
poles, an attempt to take the other to its utmost limit of possibility and
endurance. And all around people cheer.
She volunteers: “Tinikling went through an evolution of sorts before it
became the Philippine’s national dance. A simple narration of its origin just
stops with the bird, Tikling (a heron), standing on its long thin-legs, and
often times one-legged with the other leg curled in) in the rice paddies of
rural country-side Philippines. Various versions have been handed down
through oral histories and folklore. Consider the following version —
perhaps part fact, part legend.”
She continues: For nearly four hundred years, the indios, as Spaniards
called the natives of the islands they called Felipinas, were herded out as
the labor force in the fields and paddies of their own land. Those who were
slow faced a form of punishment where they stood between rough poles of
bamboo cut from the grove. The bamboo poles were then clapped to beat
the indios’ feet, with the indios trying very hard to get ahead between the
clapping of the bamboo by jumping up, and down when the bamboo poles
were apart. Of course, their feet ended up more bruised and beaten since
the poles had thorns sticking from their segments. This colonial
punishment became a vicious cycle—the more their feet were bruised, the
less work they could put in the fields, the more they were punished.
Perhaps, when the workers returned to the rice fields with their feet bruised
and bleeding from the beatings, they inadvertently laid out the matrix for
the dance. Perhaps, the natives felt the stabbing pain through their bodies
as they planted their feet in the rice paddies. Perhaps, their reflex
movement was to withdraw and curl up the injured foot. Perhaps, in the
shadows or from a distance, they looked like the heron, the bird Tikling.
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Perhaps, they had to take their bodies to the utmost limit of possibility to
endure the pain, just as, perhaps, they had to raise their feet as nimbly and
as fast, taking the bamboo poles to their utmost capacity to torture. And
perhaps, Acupanda-McGloin continues, as is often said of stories like this, it
came to pass. Thus every time the music is played and the festivity begins,
the Tinikling is danced as a story of the art of endurance, of a people that
persevered.
The Tinikling is yet another example of beating swords into ploughshares.
If decolonization is to be realized, Filipino nationalists should continue
writing histories “from below;” histories written from the vantage point of
the people, the poor and the forgotten in the histories written by Spaniards,
Americans, and mga makapili (collaborators). If decolonization is to take
place in how Filipinos read the Bible, then theological educators should
promote readings that privilege the pango at pandak at negro - behind,
within, and in front of the text.
Constantino argues that Filipino resistance to colonial oppression is the
unifying thread of Philippine history. This argument also applies to the
variety of non-traditional ways many Filipinos have read the Bible. Jeepney
hermeneutics, as an example of the Filipino capacity to “beat swords into
ploughshares,” celebrates these alternative readers and their readings.
BEATING JEEPS INTO JEEPNEYS
The western mind is so used to having everything planned
and performing like clockwork while the Filipino,
conditioned by survival instincts and desperate situations,
can do things on-the-spot, waiting for every development to
guide the next big move. This is simply revolting to the
western mind…. The jeepney is typically representative of
the Filipino character. It evolved out of a need to survive,
to earn a living, to augment an inadequate transport
system. Western countries will have all the reasons not to
have the jeepney as a means of public transport. Yet here
[in the Philippines] millions ride to work and school daily on
it. Actually majority prefer it to the buses.
-Observations of What We Are, The Philippine Daily
Inquirer, 19 April 2001
FILIPINOS AND THE BIBLE
Musa Dube reminds us that, “When it comes to the connection of the Bible,
its readers, and its institutions to Western imperialism, there is no call for
special pleading. The evidence is overwhelming” (2000:15). Laura
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Donaldson asks: “What civilization invented the most brutal system of
conquest and exploitation the world has ever known? Christian. Who made
slavery the basis for capitalist expansion? Christians. What religion has
been the most responsible for the genocide of aboriginal peoples?
Christianity. In my view, the Christian church has a much more substantial
record of pure evil than any final good” (7).
Canaan Banana posits that the Bible is an important book of the church and
that it includes liberating messages; nevertheless, there remains the sense
in which, unless one embraces the Christian concept of God, one is not fully
a person of God (Dube, 2000:14). Mary John Mananzan points out that the
Bible in spite of all the reinterpretations, remains a book written from a
patriarchal, dominator, imperial perspective and thus must be used to
inform and not define Filipino life and struggles (176-177). How then does
one do a decolonizing reading of an imperializing text? In other words,
“how does one read the Bible without perpetuating the self-serving
paradigm of contracting one group as superior to another?” (Dube,
2000:15)
How do Asian Christians “overcome the alienation they feel as they try to
relate the biblical world, colonial Christianity, and their own reality”? (Kwok:
42). For Filipinos, I suggest Jeepney hermeneutics.
Most Filipino readings fall within a spectrum: at one end are
interpretations that fundamentally mimic European-American exegesis. I
have observed over and over again seminary students and pastors lifting
out materials from William Barclay’s Daily Study Bible series, the multi­
volume New Interpreter’s Bible, even the devotionals, Our Daily Bread and
The Upper Room, for their sermons and Bible studies. Carlos Abesamis
remarks that nothing is the matter with foreigners doing foreign theology
(for themselves). The issue is that Filipino theology is a photocopy of EuroAmerican theology (1997:23, 33).
At the middle of the spectrum is the more widespread interpretive practice
of using local illustrations with foreign, mostly Western, analytical tools and
methods. In other words many Filipino readings present data from the local
context yet, to echo Tinyiko Maluleke, “its explanatory strategies are
seldom, if ever, fashioned out of local practices, beliefs, and cultures” (243).
Maryhill School of Theology scholar Ver Miranda, for example, is explicit
when he describes his methodology as “socio-literary” and “historical­
critical.” Maluleke cautions: “There is something wrong when analytical
frameworks must almost always be derived from outside” (243). Stanley
Samantha’s observation applies to the Filipino context: “Every time Biblical
scholars in Europe and America sneeze, theologians in Asia should not catch
a cold and manifest the symptoms all over the footnotes! To depend on
rules of interpretation developed in countries alien to Asian life is a
hindrance to the Church’s growth in maturity.”
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At the other end of the spectrum are interpretations that privilege life over
the biblical text, readings that re-write, re-tell, re-imagine the text in the
light of flesh and blood readers’ diverse contexts. I call these
interpretations Jeepney hermeneutics. These readings are results of a
Filipino way of “beating swords into ploughshares” called “pangingisda” or
“pamimingwit.”
FILIPINOS, “FISHING,” AND JEEPNEYS
Recall Sikolohiyang Pilipino’s description of indigenous concepts: they do
not need to be concepts peculiar only to the Philippines, but the concepts
should possess specific meanings very close and real to the Filipino
experience.
“Pangingisda” or “pamimingwit” is an indigenous term that best describes
what underpins many Filipino resistance symbols and rituals. Leny
Mendoza Strobel points out that the invitation, “Mangisda tayo” or
“Mamingwit tayo” (literally, Let’s go fishing), aside from the obvious
meaning describes the Filipino practice of fishing out words or phrases from
a stream of unintelligible discourses and proceeding to weave a relevant
narrative that oftentimes have little or no relation to the discourse that
produced it. It is akin to Nicole Wilkinson’s observation: “It is like Jacob
wrestling with the angel, in darkness, not knowing whether it is friend or
foe, but determined nevertheless to extract a blessing from it.” Jaime Belita
argues that the Filipino’s widespread devotion to the Sto. Nino and the
Suffering Christ are forms of “fishing,” that affirm meaning different from
what was intended.
Ileto’s Pasyon and Revolution documents how revolutionary movements in
the Philippines from 1840 to 1910 “fished” out a totally different
interpretation of the pasyon compared to what the Spaniards intended. The
Casaysayan nang Pasiong Mahal ni Jesucristong Panginoon Natin [Account
of the Sacred Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ] or Pasyon was introduced by
the Spanish authorities to inculcate upon the Indios loyalty to Spain and
Church. The Pasyon was supposed to encourage resignation to things as
they were and to instill preoccupation with morality and the afterlife. As
Ileto argues, the masses read something else. They saw their plight and
eventual liberation in the pasyon. Instead of encouraging passivity, the
pasyon made available a language for venting ill feelings against oppressive
friars, principales, and agents of the state. People who joined Andres
Bonifacio’s Katipunan saw the revolution in terms of the pasyon. “Bonifacio,
for instance, patterned his famous manifesto entitled ‘Ang Dapat Mabatid ng
mga Tagalog’ after the pasyon. Like Adam and Eve in Paradise, the
Tagalogs were whole and happy before the Spaniards came. The Spanish
friars, like the serpent were full of envy. Like both Christ and Mary, the
Tagalogs consequently suffered. The redemption of the country, Bonifacio
suggested, was as inevitable as the redemption narrated in the pasyon:
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therefore, the Tagalogs would successfully revolt against the Spaniards”
(Cruz, 1984b:73).
Let us go back to Cruz’s question of texts, “Whose story is it?” If it is not
the Filipinos’, then are they able to “fish” out something from it and create
their own stories? They are able and they have.
As noted earlier, on the shores of Mactan stand two markers
commemorating the same day. One was built in 1941, the other in 1951.
The earlier marker erected by the US commonwealth reads: “On this spot
Ferdinand Magellan died on April 27, 1521, wounded in an encounter with
the soldiers of Lapulapu, chief of Mactan Island. One of Magellan’s ships,
the Victoria, under the command of Juan Sebastian Elcano, sailed from
Cebu on May 1, 1521, and anchored at San Lucar de Barrameda on
September 6, 1522, thus completing the first circumnavigation of the earth.”
In 1951, Filipinos “fished” out Lapulapu from that story and created another
story, another monument; one they can call their own. This one reads:
“Here, on April 27, 1521, Lapulapu and his warriors repulsed the Spanish
invaders, killing their leader, Ferdinand Magellan. Thus, Lapulapu became
the first Filipino to have repelled European aggression.” The resistance
continues.
A jeepney is a “fished” out reading of a jeep. At the end of the Second
World War, Americans had a problem: what to do with the surplus of jeeps
rotting and rusting at various depots in the Philippines (Nofuente, 1998;
Ravenholt, 1962). Thus was born the jeepney. What the Americans
thought useless, Filipinos found useful. A jeep’s transformation into a
jeepney begins when its original intent, its imperializing function, is set
aside. First, its machine gun mount is removed. Then, its body is stretched
to create more space, to accommodate more people. Today’s sixteen or
more -seater PUJ (public utility jeep) has more than five times the capacity
of the three-seater jeep. Most jeepneys have a radio, an eight-track, a tiny
electric fan, photographs pasted on the walls, window drapes, even an
altar: a Filipino home on wheels. The jeepney is akin to what Elsa Tamez
calls “a house in which there is room for everybody” (205). Valerio
Nofuente takes pride in the jeepney’s elasticity; there is always room for
one more. He notes:
If a child is in the jeep and an adult gets in, he or she is
offered a lap (not necessarily a relative’s) to sit on in order
to make space. If a woman laden with a market basket and
a chicken gets in, hands reach out for her basket, and feet
are moved aside to find a place for it. The passengers seem
to be performing a ritual. They are, as a matter of fact, not
facing the direction of their destination, but each other… It
is something like the Filipino home. If one arrives while the
family is at table, an extra place is immediately laid, and
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the rice and fish somehow are enough for all, for everyone
to adjust his or her intake for the guest.
Simply put, in jeepneys, Filipinos have created a vehicle of their culture out
of a vehicle of war.
HOW TO BEAT JEEPS INTO JEEPNEYS
Most interpretations can be summarized into three categories: those that
locate meaning “behind texts,” those that locate meaning “in the texts,” and
those that locate meaning “in front of the texts.” Those interpretations that
fall under the first category presuppose that scripture serves a referential
function, the text is a window to a privileged past—to Israel, to the
historical Jesus, to the gospel writers and their intentions, to the early
Christian communities, etc.—that could be recovered. Interpretation is
therefore aimed at first establishing what the text meant in order to arrive
at what it means for today. The task of the interpreter is to recover
meaning from behind the text to the historical setting from which it came.
Traditional historical-critical methods like form, source, and redaction
criticism would fall under this category.
The second category of interpretations employ “closed reading” focused on
plot, characters, setting, discourse, structure, implied authors and implied
readers in order to get at “what is in the text.” If the first category
privileged the past that the text referred to as the source of meaning, the
second category privileges the text itself. This category would include most
literary methods like narrative, structural, and rhetorical criticism. In such
cases interpreters presuppose scripture as story, a text that “has life all its
own.” And this “living” text is able to create or conjure up communities of
readers/hearers.
The third category would include readings that privilege social location.
Meaning, this category, is not located in the past or in the text, but in parts
of the text that point “beyond the text” or “in front of the text”: its
rhetorical features as well as all the signs of ideological tensions, whether
these are socio-economic, political, cultural, religious tensions that are
recognizable, despite the fact that the text seeks to suppress them, for
instance by marginalizing characters, institutions, or events that would
manifest these tensions. These rhetorical features and ideological tensions
are textual features that point “beyond the text,” in the sense that they are
recognizable by the ways in which they powerfully affect readers in
situations similar to those suppressed by the text. Thus, these “in front of
the text” textual features are most directly recognizable when they are
activated by present-day readers. After all, interpretations are, as Mark
Taylor puts it, “constructs of socially located flesh-and-blood readers.”
Scripture then serves as a mirror that helps inform—not define—concrete
life settings. Most advocacy approaches—feminist, liberationist, womanist,
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reader-response criticism, cultural, and post-colonial studies—would fall
under this category.
This dissertation, as an example of a “reading in front of texts” takes into
account the primary role of culture and socio-political context in
interpretations of the Bible, and in the process elucidates dimensions of the
text that otherwise would remain hidden. Simply put, I am a Filipino and
this project is a Filipino reading of Matthew and Philemon. It is akin to
Dolores Williams’s argument, in Sisters in the Wilderness, that her
construction of Christian theology or god-talk is informed by the statement:
“I am a black WOMAN.” More specifically I propose to show how Filipino
perspectives generated in resistance to imperialism and colonialism
highlight certain aspects of the biblical texts and of their historical contexts
that remain hidden when they are read from European-American
perspectives. What I am proposing is another “Canaanite” reading that I
am offering as a contribution to the developing archive of resistance and
liberation discourses: a reading aimed to disrupt and challenge the
hegemony of Western scholarship in biblical studies, especially in the
Philippines.
As a decolonizing reading, Jeepney hermeneutics is but one among many
such readings by and of the colonized. Two excellent examples are Musa
Dube’s and Robert Allen Warrior’s interpretations. Dube is from Botswana
and Warrior is Native American (Osage).
Musa Dube’s postcolonial feminist interpretation of scripture presupposes
the Bible as an imperialist text. In other words, imperialism is more than
just a military, political, economic, and cultural exercise. It is more than
just the “imposition of a few universal standards on a world of difference”
(1998:233); it is a textual project. And the Bible is its most important text.
Dube has analyzed the role of the Bible in empire-building, especially in
Africa. She argues, for example in her readings of John’s and Matthew’s
mission texts, that both gospels construct imperial agents as holy and
acceptable and both pursue ideologies that authorize the cultural
subjugation of foreign lands and people. How does one then read the Bible
for Dube? She offers, “the biblical text becomes subordinated to the
context, the culture, and the sociopolitical issues of readers, so that readers
literally proceed to re-write the text” (239). She suggests reading other
texts—like Mositi Torontle’s The Victims, or the life experiences of the
women of Botswana—that bear God’s disclosure, saying that God never
opened the Bible to us, yet we still hear God speaking to us as women and
in our situations.
Robert Allen Warrior’s essay, Canaanites, Cowboys, and Indians, argues
that the liberationist picture of Yahweh is incomplete. In the conquest
narratives, Yahweh the liberator becomes Yahweh the conqueror. Warrior
rightly points out that the obvious characters in the Exodus and Conquest
narratives for Native Americans to identify with are the Canaanites, the
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people who already lived in the promised land. He also argues “that the
Canaanites should be the center of theological reflection and political action.
They are the last remaining ignored voice in the text, except perhaps for
the land itself” (98). The conquest stories, for Warrior, with all their
violence and injustice, must be taken seriously by those who believe in the
God of the Old Testament. Unfortunately, biblical critics rarely mention
these texts and when they do, Warrior points out, they express little
concern for the indigenes and their rights as human beings and as nations.
Especially ignored are the passages where Yahweh tells the Israelites to
mercilessly annihilate the indigenous population. He then notes that
oppressive narratives of conquest, anti-Semitism, sexism, heterosexism,
imperialism, and racism remain in the canonized text and opines: “We will
perhaps do better to look elsewhere for our vision of justice, peace, and
political sanity…” (100).
Reading the story of the Canaanite woman in Matthew 15 as a “Canaanite,”
Warrior argues that “the woman does not become a follower of Jesus….
Yes, she changes Jesus, but she does not become a disciple…. The
question of what happened to her is left open…. Perhaps she later joined
the church (if indeed she actually existed) or maybe she went back to her
own people and fought against the colonizing Romans in her own way with
her own gods” (102). Warrior adds: “The importance of the story is not
whether she followed, but that without her… Jesus would have remained a
narrow-minded bigot who viewed indigenous people as inhuman” (102).
“Reading the Bible inside a Jeepney” begins with one’s view of the Bible. As
Daniel Patte points out in conversation, “Traditional roles of scripture are
problematic, when they involve submission to the text, or more exactly,
defining the authority of the text in terms of moral prescriptions or vision
(ideology, religious views, etc.) that it posits or carries.” Many interpreters
of Matthew and Philemon begin with the theological affirmation, explicit or
not, that the Bible is “God’s Word” and that it offers access to the Complete
and Final Revelation of the One True God, Jesus Christ. Jeepney
hermeneutics presupposes that the Bible is a “jeep,” a sword, an
imperializing text – a dangerous text, as demonstrated throughout history
by the many horrendous crimes committed in its name (see for instance,
Susanne Scholtz, ed. Biblical Studies Alternatively: An Introductory Reader
[2002]).
Imperializing texts, according to Dube, take many forms and are written by
a variety of people, even by the colonized, either collaborating with the
dominant forces or yearning for the same power. She adds, “Regardless of
who writes imperializing texts, they are characterized by literary
constructions, representations, and uses that authorize taking possession of
foreign spaces and peoples… Reproduction of imperial strategies of
subjugation is also evident among many interpreters.” I draw heavily from
Dube’s work with the following questions in explaining why Matthew and
Philemon are imperializing and why many of their interpretations are the
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same. (1) Does the text have an explicit stance for or against the political
imperialism of its time? (2) Does it encourage travel to distant and
inhabited lands and how does it justify itself? (3) How does the text
construct difference: is there dialogue and liberating interdependence, or is
there condemnation and replacement of all that is foreign? Is there
celebration of difference authentic or mere tokenism? (4) Does the text
employ representations (gender, ethnicity, sexuality, divine, etc.) to
construct relationships of subordination and domination?
Jeepney hermeneutics as a decolonizing reading presupposes the reality of
empire as backdrop to the construction of the biblical narratives. It does
not equate the biblical narratives with historically verifiable facts. What it
does is argue that most of the Bible is composed of discourses constructed
and framed by a particular historical setting, in the case of New Testament
writings the Roman Imperial occupation. Anti-colonialist Franz Fanon and
educator Paolo Freire show that dynamics leading to literary production
exist not only between the colonizer and the colonized, but also between
various interest groups of the colonized, some of which try to gain power to
define national cultural identity, as well as to compete for the attention of
their collective oppressor. Jeepney hermeneutics argues that most of the
biblical narratives are not rejecting the imperialism of its time but are
seeking its favor, or at least condoning it. Again, the Bible is an
imperializing text,, that is, it has “in front of the text” features and tensions
that reveal it as condoning and, consequently, promoting imperialism. It is
a jeep, a sword, and Jeepney hermeneutics attempts to beat that jeep into
a jeepney, that sword into a ploughshare.
Jeepney readings have at least three distinct characteristics, three explicit
choices—textual, theological, and contextual—made by the reader in front
of texts. First, as far as textual choices are concerned, it involves reading
texts by disregarding, setting aside, or resisting imperial rhetoric, its agents
and those who mimic them (getting rid of the machine gun mount). This
means privileging the “random aberrant outbursts in a world otherwise
rigidly held together by its patriarchal attitudes and androcentric
perspective” (Weems, 1991:76). This means privileging the subaltern in
texts, not just the “voices from the margins” but also the “voiceless from
the margins,” like the ram in the Abraham-Isaac periscope in Genesis 22,
what Leela Gandhi describes as “the ones who disappear because we never
hear them speak. They only serve as medium for competing discourses to
represent their claims,” like the pais in Matthew 8:5-13 and Onesimus in
Paul’s letter to Philemon. This fundamental choice, this switch of focus from
center to periphery allows the marginalized in the text to “mirror” the plight
of the marginalized in front of it. This is akin to Delores Williams’ argument
about the power of Hagar’s story to inform and inspire the continuing
struggle of many African-American women.
Identifying with the underdog and the marginalized is not uncommon
among Filipinos. Most of them read comic books. They are the cheapest
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form of entertainment. Another Filipino favorite is the tele-novela (for those
who have televisions) or radio serials (for the majority who do not). Many
identify with the pango, the pandak, and the negro characters in these
stories because their struggles approximate or echo Philippine situations.
Filipinos love characters who, despite their dire situations, persist and
resist. Even Filipino superheroes are not exempt from hardship. Kapten
Barbel, for example, is a cripple who works as a scavenger. Darna is a blind
Sampaguita vendor. Bullet Boy is a balut peddler. Unlike many Cinderellalike stories of heroes and heroines in the West, these Filipino superheroes
start dirt poor and remain dirt poor. And many of them are children. Many
of the silenced voices in the Bible are children (Melinda Grace Aoanan,
2001). As Mananzan has argued, most of its marginalized characters are
women.
Filipino activists report that in the mid-70s, at the height of the USsponsored Martial Law regime of Ferdinand Marcos, “Christ is the Answer”
banners flooded Metro Manila. On one of these banners one wrote, in red
ink, “What is the Question?” A second characteristic of jeepney
hermeneutics involves a fundamental theological claim that the insights,
stories, and answers the Bible provide (like the three-seater jeep) are not
enough and may even be wrong or hurtful for the questions being asked by
many communities, thus the need to create space for other texts that help
inform—not define—peoples’ lives and struggles (therefore, the necessity of
the sixteen or more passenger jeepney). Jeepney hermeneutics creates
space for other voices, for Filipino “traditions, myths, legends, to harness
insights, values and inspiration towards the full flowering of communities
and persons” (Mananzan, 1991:176-177). Jeepney hermeneutics then takes
seriously the affirmation that God and God’s activity is bigger than the
Bible, bigger than Christianity, and even bigger than Jesus Christ. God did
not arrive in the Philippines in 1521. God was already here. According to
Taylor: “The Bible, once the “sword” of the imperial spirit, will have to find
its new possibilities amid many other spirits that its Christian bearers often
spurned.”
Edicio dela Torre’s “apocryphal” readings push the boundaries of texts. For
example, he engages the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-31) in conversation:
What if the Samaritan arrived on the scene ten minutes earlier while the
mugging was still ongoing, would he have helped? What if the Samaritan
was on the scene even before the mugging started, would he have done
anything to stop it from happening? What if that road from Jerusalem to
Jericho was made safe so that anyone can come and go freely and safely?
For Dela Torre, the normative readings of the Samaritan story—and similar
stories—beg extrapolation because unchallenged they perpetuate the cycle
of institutionalized victimization. Someone is victimized. Someone comes
to the rescue of the victim. Nothing is done so that the victimizers stop
victimizing, victims stop being victimized, and rescuers stop coming at the
end of the victimization. The cycles of violence need to be broken. To read
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from Dela Torre’s perspective is to ask of the Bible: does it completely
address Filipino life and struggles?
I have observed over and over again Filipino women resisting traditional
readings of Luke 10:38-42 which recounts the encounter of Jesus with Mary
and Martha in their home. It is not uncommon for many in rural
congregations to act out Bible passages. In many instances, women have
resisted the texts and played out what made sense for their particular
experience. For example, I have observed alternative readings of Luke
10:38-42 where the people playing the characters of Mary, Martha, and
Jesus did not follow the script: the three either prepared the meal together,
sat on the floor together and engaged in dialogue, or went outside the
house and played ball with the other disciples. Many have re-written the
“script” so that Mary and Martha come out equal partners in ministry with
Jesus. Rebecca Asedillo, in Women of Faith, talks about an ecumenical
gathering where the women assert that: “Maybe what was best for Mary
was best specifically for her... Sometimes we’re Mary and sometimes we’re
Martha... Yes, Martha was practical. Mary was spiritual. We are both” (87­
88).
Native American and African readings resonate with the aforementioned
pushing of textual boundaries. Jace Weaver argues that Native American
peoples, dispossessed of their homeland and annihilated by a foreign
invader, emphatically, call for de-colonizing the Gospel. Their perception of
time, space, and nature, remarkably different from that of the West’s,
define their interpretation. For many of them basileia tou theou (the realm
of God) is read in spatial not temporal terms, asking “Where?” and not
“When?” They interpret Moses’ trudging up Sinai as a vision quest. They
recognize Mary, the mother of Jesus because she is White Buffalo Calf
Woman, or Corn Mother, or La llorana refusing to be consoled at the death
of her child (169-173). Musimbi Kanyoro points out that “even a ‘woman’s
reading’ of the Bible does not answer the questions that bother us. In the
Martha and Mary stories (Luke 10:38-42; John 11:1-44), we have found
liberation in the affirmation by Jesus of Mary’s desire for knowledge…. But
what about Martha? A majority of women in Africa are Marthas” (108).
Kanyoro adds that women in the continent ask questions different from
those in theological debate in general and in women’s theology in particular.
They ask about the Moabite Orpah’s plight, a question even the Bible does
not answer (105).
Third, jeepney hermeneutics as an example of “reading like a Canaanite”
(Donaldson: 10; Weaver: 169), “re-invading the land” (Guardiola-Saenz),
re-claiming stolen spaces, and building houses (jeepneys as Filipino homes
on wheels) addresses contextual issues, concrete life settings among
Filipinos. “The Canaanites are, of course, the much vilified people who
occupied the ‘promised land’ before the arrival of the wandering Israelites.
Yet they also stand in for all peoples whose lands have been conquered and
expropriated” (Donaldson: 12). Filipinos as one of the most colonized
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peoples in the world (Fernandez, 2001) are modern-day Canaanites. I have
read reports that close to 80 percent of the country is controlled by
transnational corporations (TNCs). Majority remain squatters in their own
land. For the “homeless” Filipino in the Philippines whose bed was last
night’s cardboard box, tonight’s underpass, and tomorrow’s park bench, a
jeepney ride, though fleeting, is the closest experience of being “at home.”
Reading the Bible inside a jeepney simply means creating space, offering a
home for Filipino “Canaanites” to think, to speak, to sing, to commune in
Canaanite languages—in their own tongues. Bringing in Canaanite texts
“decolonize the exclusively divine space assigned to biblical texts” (Dube,
1998b: 119). Moreover, for Dube, these Canaanite readings are “meant to
contest, subvert, and decolonize the master’s text by refusing to give it too
much attention” (119).
There are members of the Faculty of Union Theological Seminary in the
Philippines who believe that theological education in the 21st century must
take seriously the challenge of Miriam and Aaron who asked, “Does the
Lord speak only through Moses?” (Num 12:2), and thus also proclaim the
stories of the marginalized, the subaltern, and, yes, the “Canaanites” in the
text and those in front of it (44).
A reading of Romans through the Filipino value of utang na loob (debt of
the heart) might bear little or no connection to the epistle’s rhetoric, yet it is
a reading that creates space for Filipinos (Velunta, 1998). Melanio
Aoanan’s teolohiya ng pagkain at bituka (intestinal theology) is built on
Sikolohiyang Pilipino’s insistence on using the vernacular and thus uses
sociologically-loaded terms like “katawan” (for body) and “kapatid” (for
brother/sister) that makes excellent sense to Filipinos. Melinda Grace
Aoanan reads Jonah from the perspective of the one hundred twenty
thousand innocent Nineveh children. Asedillo reads Mark 7:24-30/Matthew
15:21-28 from the perspective of the “little bitch,” the Syrophoenician/
Canaanite woman who “catches Jesus with his compassion down” and who
eventually, through her challenge, leads Jesus to a change of mind and
heart (75-76). Reading Matthew 8:5-13 from the perspective of the pais,
the child servant, instead of focusing on Jesus and/or the centurion
challenges both Matthew’s rhetoric and traditional readings of the pericope
(Velunta, 2000).
READING JOHN INSIDE A JEEPNEY
Jeepney hermeneutics is but one among many “Canaanite” readings. And it
is a reading that (1) presupposes that the Bible is a “jeep,” an imperializing
text, and that said jeep can be (2) transformed into a “jeepney.”
Let me offer a brief example using the Gospel of John. As already noted,
the connection of the Bible, its readers, and its institutions to Western
imperialism do not call for special pleading. As Alan Lawson and Chris Tiffin
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insist: “Imperial relations may have been initially established by guns, guile,
and disease, but they were maintained largely by textuality” (Lawson and
Tiffin: 3). Simply put, the Bible was and is the key tool in the “textual
takeover of the non-Western world” (Boehmer: 94). Yet, many
commentaries and expositions on John available in Philippine seminaries
take for granted or do not find problematic the gospel’s imperial rhetoric.
Spivey and Smith’s popular introductory text (Anatomy of the New
Testament. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1995) describes the Gospel as
reminding its readers that faith is “walking by the light of Christ, and
walking the way he walked… it is dependence on the source of life, the only
true God and Jesus Christ whom he has sent” (203). Both argue that
Christians have tended to read the other Gospels, indeed the whole New
Testament, in the light of John’s christological and theological constructions
(203). Dube points out that “mission studies indicate that John’s Gospel has
been the most influential text” (1998b: 132). Bart Ehrman’s The New
Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1997), another popular textbook, applies five
methods in its analysis of John: literary-historical, redaction, comparative,
thematic, and socio-historical. All five approaches lead to one major
conclusion: “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life now.” Adele
Reinhartz (Befriending the Beloved Disciple: A Jewish Reading of the Gospel
of John. New York: Continuum, 2001) resists John’s rhetoric because of its
anti-Semitism. James Charlesworth (The Beloved Disciple: Whose Witness
Validates the Gospel of John? Valley Forge: Trinity Press, 1995) using
contemporary historical Jesus methodologies argues that Jesus’ beloved
disciple was really Thomas and, contrary to feminist arguments, could never
have been a woman.
“Imperializing texts take many forms and are written by a variety of people,
even by the colonized, either collaborating with the dominant forces or
yearning for the same power. Regardless of who writes imperializing texts,
they are characterized by literary constructions, representations, and uses
that authorize taking possession of foreign spaces and peoples” (Dube,
1996:41-42). The Gospel of John, according to Dube, may have been
written by an oppressed minority group and among the colonized Jews. This
setting does not automatically guarantee that it is an anti-imperial text.
Post-colonial studies indicate that the colonized do not always resist their
oppressors: they also collaborate and imitate the imperial power at various
stages of their oppression (1998b: 119).
Why is John a “jeep”? Dube brings the following questions to the text
(2000:57-58): Does the Gospel have an explicit stance for or against the
political imperialism of its time? Does it encourage travel to distant and
inhabited lands and how does it justify itself? How does the Gospel
construct difference: is there dialogue and liberating interdependence, or is
there condemnation and replacement of all that is foreign? Is the
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celebration of difference authentic or mere tokenism? Does the text employ
representations to construct relationships of subordination and domination?
Dube points out that the problem of reproducing imperial strategies of
subjugation is also evident among interpreters (2000:26). As Kwok Pui-lan
posits, “They operate more from a hermeneutics of consent than a
hermeneutics of suspicion. They have not dealt adequately with the harsh
reality that the Bible discloses a hierarchical social order in which slavery
and male domination are seldom challenged” (42).
John’s imperial discourse pervades the whole gospel. The “Word” that
became flesh (1.14) was with God and is, actually, God (1.1). All things
came into being through him (1.3) and in him was life and the life was the
light of all people (1.4). This “Word made flesh,” the one who came from
heaven is above all (3:31) and thus greater than John the Baptist
(1.20,3.30), Moses (1.17-18,3.13-15), Jacob (4.12), and even Abraham
(8:58). This “Word made flesh” goes into Samaria and tells the woman by
the well, “You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know,
for salvation is from the Jews” (4.22). This “Word made flesh” is “The
Bread of Life” (6.35), “The Light of the World” (8.12), “The Resurrection
and the Life” (11.25), and “The Way, the Truth, and the Life” (14.6). And if
every one of the things that this “Word made flesh” did were written down,
“the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (21.24).
Dube points out that John’s Jesus, as savior of the world who is not of this
world, shows a colonizing ideology that claims power over all other places
and peoples of the earth (1998b: 132). Moreover Jesus’ followers receive a
transference of power. Jesus tells them that they do not belong to the world
because he has chosen them out of the world (15.19), and then he sends
them out saying, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (20.21). In
other worlds, Christians are not of this world yet they are sent into the
world with the power to devalue and subordinate differences like John’s
Jesus (Dube, 1998b: 130).
With rhetoric like this it is not surprising, as Ali Mazrui points out, that
Christianity, the religion of the underdog, became an imperial religion
(Dube, 2000:11). More than this, the gospel’s reception history is, on the
whole, an expected response to its imperializing rhetoric. Back to my
metaphor, the gospel is a jeep. And most of its interpretations, especially
those available in Protestant seminary libraries in the Philippines, are jeeps.
All of the interpreters I have quoted above present legitimate readings.
Each of these, explicit or not, are framed by analytical, theological, and
contextual choices. They are relevant to communities that find them
relevant. But Good news is always relative. Goliath’s death by David’s hand
was good news to the Israelites but definitely bad news to the Philistines,
tragic news, even, to Goliath’s family. Interpretations that ignore or even
perpetuate John’s imperial rhetoric are products of the hermeneutics of
167
consent. Interpretations that challenge the gospel’s discourse are products
of the hermeneutics of suspicion.
Reinhartz has problems with John’s rhetoric and many compliant readings of
the gospel. Her literary approach, engaging the gospel at the level of
“story,” is a resistant reading to the narrative’s constructions of
representations and structures of relationships. Her social location, explicit
in her reading, takes issue with the anti-Semitism prevalent in biblical
studies and helps explain her focus on textual features that construct Jews
as negative characters in the gospel. She, as a Jew, then offers several
ways of dealing cautiously with the problematic Johannine text.
Ehrman, engaging the text as “window,” also raises the problem of antiSemitism in his discussion. He also finds problematic the anti-Jewish
sections of the narrative and argues for alternative, liberating readings. One
can argue that this move emanates from a life setting dominated by hurtful,
even dangerous, interpretations of the Bible. Although Reinhartz finds the
text problematic, both she and Ehrman ignore the imperial ideology of the
gospel. Jeepney hermeneutics, as decolonizing interpretations, suspects
both text and interpretation. Ehrman and Reinhartz employ a hermeneutics
of suspicion as far as John’s reception history is concerned. Yet, Ehrman
employs a hermeneutics of consent as far as the “source text” is concerned.
His reading’s theological choice is quite clear: scripture is “God’s Word.”
The Bible remains authoritative, normative, archetypal, God’s special
revelation, blameless. Those responsible for Christianity’s sins are the
Bible’s interpreters.
Gomang Seratwa Ntloedibe-Kuswani cautions that an imperial ideology—
that Christianity is the superior religion over all others and its God the real
God—underpins the colonialist communication theory of “source text and
receptor languages.” The Bible is the given and cannot be changed.
Languages, cultures, and peoples can and must be changed to make room
for the Bible. Thus, even in translation work, there exists the colonizing
ideology that renders receptors into slaves of the “source text” (80-81).
Ntloedibe-Kuswani quotes Aloo Mojola who argues that translation is never
neutral. It is an instrument of ideological and theological formation
grounded on fidelity and faithfulness to the source text (81).
Spivey and Smith are faithful to the “source text.” And so is Charlesworth.
He is totally indifferent to the inherent problems of the Johannine rhetoric
and instead uses the narrative as a “window” to a historical past, a
privileged past, in order to find a historical beloved disciple “whose witness
validates” the gospel of John. Kwok Pui-lan, I might add, classifies past
and contemporary historical Jesus quests as imperialistic in nature: the
West’s need for the “noble savage.” Sugirtharajah’s comments are more
pointed: “The whole enterprise serves as an example of how the dominant
discourse holds on to its deep-rooted Eurocentric bias, namely the assertion
that anything theologically worthwhile can only emanate from Greco-Judeo
168
traditions… Eurocentrism works on a double premise. It looks to Greece for
its intellectual and philosophical roots, and dips into its Judaic heritage for
its religious origins” (1998b: 113).
Reading John inside a jeepney requires privileging Filipinos and their plight
as modern-day “Canaanites.” Insisting that the Bible informs, it does not
define life, and engaging the biblical text in search of the marginalized, the
subaltern, the “Canaanite” characters—those whom, as noted earlier,
Gandhi describes as “the ones who disappear because we never hear them
speak. Those who only serve as medium for competing discourses to
represent their claims.”
The paidarion, the lad of John 6:9, like the pais of Matthew 8:5-13 that I
have argued as symbolic of Filipinos (2000:25-32; 2003), can also represent
or “mirror” the continuing plight of Filipinos. As noted earlier, Fred Atkinson,
the first American General Superintendent of Education in the Philippines
inaugurated over a century of racist public education in the islands when he
remarked: “The Filipino people, taken as a body, are children and childlike,
do not know what is best for them ... by the very fact of our superiority of
civilization and our greater capacity for industrial activity we are bound to
exercise over them a profound social influence.” The child who offers the
five loaves and two fish is absent from the Synoptics. Only in John is the
source of the food identified. In the midst of a crisis involving adults, a
child’s food is appropriated. The crisis is averted. Jesus is praised. The child
disappears into the background from whence he came. He is never thanked.
He is never mentioned again. The child gets one verse in the entire 21
chapters of the gospel. Filipinos, numbering over seven million, offer
“loaves and fish” to countless peoples throughout the world as overseas
contract workers. Many do not even get “one verse.” As De Quiros points
out, “They do not figure in the narrative.”
The Samaritan woman is another character that can “mirror” or represent
Filipinos. Dube, going against the traditional feminist reading of John 4,
presents the woman at the well as illustrative of control-at-a-distance
strategies of empire (1996: 37-60). I agree. Spain and America
domesticated the mujer indigena for over four centuries and turned her into
their most effective subject. Yet like the woman at the well—who despite
being told that her worship was wrong and that she did not need to fetch
water anymore because of what Jesus was offering her in terms of “correct
worship” and “eternal springs of water”—still left her jar by her people’s
well. As already noted earlier, though subjected to the most sophisticated
political machinations and cultural genocide, the Filipino soul has never
been totally crushed.
Dube’s reading complements mine. She explains why John is a “jeep” (to
use my metaphor) by comparing and contrasting the Gospel with other
imperializing texts like Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and the epic,
Aeneid (1998b: 119). Dube refuses to read the biblical text in isolation
169
from other works of literature and is thus able to argue that John’s
colonizing ideology that claims power over other peoples and places on
earth is not so different from other constructions in secular literature
(1998b: 132). I, on the other hand, “fished” for marginal characters and
formed totally different narratives. In other words, I took the “jeep” and
transformed it into a “jeepney.”
INVITATION
As representative of perspectives generated in resistance to imperialism and
colonialism, Jeepney hermeneutics celebrates alternative rituals, Filipino
reading practices, aimed to disrupt the colonial mind-set and the hegemony
of Western scholarship and interpretation.
As an explicitly decolonizing reading practice, Jeepney hermeneutics is not
about offering a single, best interpretation. What it does is argue that there
are other ways of reading texts by highlighting aspects traditional Western
scholarship has ignored or continues to ignore. And this particular
alternative reading is grounded on three elements: privileging the subaltern
in texts; presupposing Scripture as informing life, not defining it; and
reading texts as “Canaanites.” Jeepney hermeneutics is one of those
readings that, according to Sugirtharajah, “enable us to question the
totalizing tendencies of European reading practices and interpret the texts
on our own terms and read them from our specific locations” (1998b: 16).
Recall those two monuments in Mactan. They serve as testament to the
reality that there are several ways to tell a story, and there are multitudes
of storytellers. There are other ways of reading. And readers? There are
legion. Many of them are Filipinos.
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CONTRIBUTORS
Ferdinand Anno teaches Liturgics and the Arts at Union Theological
Seminary. An ordained pastor of the United Church of Christ in the
Philippines, he once served as Chaplain of the PCCL University Church. He
has an M.Div. from Silliman University Divinity School and an M.Th. from the
University of Edinburg. He is now completing his doctorate in the United
Kingdom.
Melanio LaGuardia Aoanan, editor of the forthcoming anthology, A
Century of Preaching the Word, is an ordained pastor of the United Church
of Christ in the Philippines. He is Professor of Church History and Doctrine
at UTS. He has taught at De La Salle University, Southern Christian College
(where he was Dean of the College of Theology), and Silliman University
(where he was Chair of the Philosophy and Religion Department). He has a
B.D. from Silliman, and an M.Theol. and a D. Theol. from SEAGST (South
East Asia Graduate School of Theology). He is a member of EATWOT
(Ecumenical Association of Third World Theologians) and has published
eight books and written essays for journals here and abroad. He served as
pastor of the Church Among the Palms at the UP Los Banos from 2000­
2004.
George O. Buenaventura, an elder of the United Methodist Church,
teaches Old Testament and Biblical Theology at Union. He writes a regular
column,“Kulang Lang Sa Praktis,” for The Filipino Methodist newsletter.
He has an M.Div. from UTS and an M.Theol. from SEAGST. He is presently
enrolled in the Doctor of Theology program of SEAGST. Buenaventura is
also an Agricultural Engineer.
Romeo L. Del Rosario is Vice-President for Theological Education and
Professor of Ecumenics and Contemporary Theologies at UTS. He has over
30 years of leadership experience in his various roles as pastor, worker with
youth, scholar, teacher, ecumenist, peace advocate, dean, and community
organizer. He has worked in the United States, in Sierra Leone, West Africa,
in Jerusalem, and, most recently, in Sabah, Malaysia. He has an AB
Psychology from Philippine Christian University, an M.Div. (Cum Laude) from
Candler School of Theology (Emory University), and a Ph.D. in Theological
and Religious Studies from Boston University.
Aileen Isidro-Carbonell, a member of the United Church of Christ in the
Philippines, is the Secretary to the Vice-President for Theological Education.
She is also a member of the UTS Centennial Committee. She has a
Certificate of Theological Studies from UTS, a Bachelor of Science Major in
Math degree from The University of Rizal System, and is completing her
thesis for her Masters in Educational Management at Philippine Christian
University. She maintains a web log of her essays and poems at http://
aileendelacruzisidro.blogspot.com. She is married to Arman de Guzman
Carbonell.
180
Patrick R. McDivith is Associate Dean of Students at UTS. He also
teaches Pastoral Care and Counseling. He is an ordained pastor of the
United Church of Christ in the Philippines and a former Conference Minister.
He once served as Dean of Students at the University of the Philippines in
Los Banos and has over 30 years experience in university ministries. He has
graduate degrees from UTS, UP, and SEAGST.
Antonio P. Pacudan is Associate Professor of New Testament and
Coordinator of the Theological Education by Extension Program (TEE) of
Union Theological Seminary. He has written a reader, “Jesus in the Gospels:
An Introduction to the Life, Works, and Teachings of Jesus,” that is used by
Bachelor of Ministry students in the TEE. He has an M.Div. from UTS (with
Honors) and an M.Theol. in New Testament Studies from SEAGST. He is
currently pursuing his doctorate at Philippine Christian University. An
ordained United Methodist pastor, he has served six pastorates in Isabela.
He is married to Gloria Padaca-Pacudan with whom he has three children.
Deborrah R. Reyes teaches music at UTS and is the Director of the Union
Theological Seminary Choir. She has a Music Teacher’s Certificate in Piano, a
Music Teacher’s Diploma in Voice, a Bachelor of Music Major in Music
Education, a Bachelor of Music Major in Voice, and is completing her Master
in Music at Philippine Women’s University. She also has a Certificate in
Theological Studies from Union. She has worked as music worker in the
following churches: UCCP-Ellinwood, Malate Church, UCCP- James B.
Rodgers, UCCP- Anabu, UCCP- Paranaque, UCCP- Pasay, and is currently the
music director of the PCCL-University Church. She is blessed with two sons:
Josiah Vinson and Zion Job.
Afrie Songco-Joye is Professor of Theology and Christian Education and a
former Academic Dean at UTS. She has also taught at Harris Memorial
College where she now sits as member of the Board. She has served
pastorates in California and was once a program director in the United
Methodist’s General Board of Discipleship based in Nashville, TN. She has
degrees from Harris, Scarritt, and Claremont.
Lizette Galima Tapia-Raquel is editor of the forthcoming anthology,
Isandaang Pasasalamat, and co-chair of the UTS Centennial Committee’s
Publications and Promotions sub-committee. She is a member of AWIT (The
Association of Women in Theology), an officer of the UTS Alumni
Association, and a resource person of the United Methodist Church’s Board
of Women’s Work. She earned a Master of Divinity degree (with Highest
Honors) at Union Theological Seminary and her primary interests include
ecumenics, women’s issues, and Philippine history. She is married to
Norman T. Raquel and has two children: Lauren Francesca and Noah La
Verne.
181
Revelation Enriquez Velunta, editor of this collection, is Associate
Professor of New Testament and Cultural Studies at Union Theological
Seminary. He is co-author of The Gospel of Matthew: A Contextual
Introduction for Group Study (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003) with Daniel Patte,
Monya Stubbs, and Justin Ukpong. His essays on Jeepney Hermeneutics
have been published by Scholar’s Press, T&T Clark International, and The
Bulletin for Contexual Theology in South Africa. He did his theological
studies at UTS, Princeton Theological Seminary, and Vanderbilt University.
Velunta is also a Certified Public Accountant. He is married to Melinda Grace
B. Aoanan and they have two sons: Immanuel Lukas and Ian Yeshua.
(Footnotes)
Romeo Del Rosario quoted in Carlos Abesamis, What is Inside the Wooden
Bowl? (Manila: Socio-Pastoral Institute, 1997), 24.
2
Carlos Abesamis, 23.
3
There are Indian and French versions of this story. I am sure there are
more.
4
Tignan ang kanyang sanaysay “What is the Place of the Indigenous Language
in Contextualization?” in Papers and Presentations from the Congress of Asian
Theologians. Feliciano V. Carino, ed., CCA Bulletin Vol. XV, No. 1 (June 1998),
pp. 150-153.
5
Isagani R. Cruz, “Teorya at Wika: Kung Bakit Malabo ang Ingles pero Hindi
Dapat Lumabo ang Ating Paningin,” PANTAS: A Journal for Higher Education,
November 1989, p. 11.
6
Ibid., p. 12.
7
Alberto E. Alejo, S.J., TAO PO! TULOY! Isang Landas ng Pag-unawa sa Loob
ng Tao. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1990, p. ix.
8
Ibid. p. x.
9
Hinango ko ang pananaw na ito sa sanaysay ni Ponciano Bennagen, “Cultural
Analysis for Social Transformation,” United Church Letter, XXXII, 1 [1988], pp.
1; 6-9.
10
Ang awiting ito ay katha ni Jose Corazon de Jesus noong 1928, sa panahon
ng makabayang pakikibaka laban sa mga Amerikano.
11
Howard I. Towne, “The Impending Ecological Nightmare: Can We Prevent
It?” in Riding the Third Wave into the Third Millenium. Ed. By Richard L.
Schwenk. Manila: SEED Center, 1991, p. 41-52.
12
Dioscoro L. Umali, “Be Heroes We Never Were and Live,” in Schwenk,
ibid., pp. 27-32,
13
Tignan ang Philippine Daily Inquirer, December 6, 2005, p. A-9. Tila hindi
matanggap ni Legaspi ang paniniwala ng mga demographers na ang Philippines
population growth rate ay 2.36%, sa halip, ang kanyang palagay ay 1.44%
lamang.
14
Denis Arroyo, “Hard Times Ahead for the Economy,” Sunday Inquirer
Magazine, November 11, 1990.
15
Edicio de la Torre, “Toward A Just Reconciliation: The Philippines’ PostMarcos Challenge,” Sojourner Magazine, Aug.-Sept. 1986, pp. 20-24.
16
Jose de Mesa, Kapag Namayani ang Kalooban ng Diyos. Quezon City:
Claretian Publications, 1990.
1
182
Tingnan ang aklat ni Padre Leonardo N. Mercado, Elements of Filipino
Philosophy. Tacloban: Divine Word Publications, 1974.
18
Doreen G. Fernandez and Edgardo N. Alegre, Lasa: A Guide to Eating Out
in the Provinces. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1990.
19
Cirilo F. Bautista, “Ang Pananangis ng Huling Tao sa Daigdig,” Philippine
Graphic Magazine, February 11, 1991.
20
Thomas Langford, Editor. Doctrine and Theology in the United Methodist
Church (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1991), 10. Or see The United Methodist
Book of Discipline, Part III, Social Principles.
21
Stephen Clark, Building Christian Communities (Indiana: Ave Maria Press,
1972), 20.
22
Tissa Balasuriya, Planetory Theology (New York, Maryknoll: Orbis Press,
1984), 131.
23
Bernhard Anderson, Understand the Old Testament (Philippine Edition:
Claretian Publications, 1986), 544.
24
Anderson, 544.
25
John Fuellerbach, Church: Community for the Kingdom (New York: Orbis,
1994), 69.
26
Alejandro Cussianovich, Religious Life of the Poor (New York: Orbis,
1979), 125.
27
Cussianovich, 124.
28
Editor’s Note: This essay is based on McDivith’s thesis for his M.Theol.
(South East Asia Graduate School of Theology).
29
Most studies of social behavior support the observation that Filipinos, on
the whole, think and act in terms of community. Their language, their
thought processes, their acts are in the plural. Please read Aoanan’s and
Buenaventura’s essays in this volume.
30
Many Filipinos now spend their time in malls, particulary SM and
Robinsons, that the Roman Catholic Church now holds masses in these
malls before they officially open for business on Sundays.
31
This essay is an expanded version of the first chapter in Velunta’s
dissertation, Jeepney Hermeneutics (Ph.D. Religion, New Testament and
Cultural Studies, Vanderbilt University).
17
183
184
185