Narrow roads, big churches

BECAUSE of the death of a friend, I found myself recently—all in one day—flying from Cebu to Manila, then driving for 3 hours from Manila to Lukban, a quaint small town perched at the foot of Mt. Banahaw, then saying the funeral Mass, going to the burial itself, mixing with the family of the deceased, then to Calamba for the night.

Deaths come unscheduled, and in this one, for some reason the burial also had to be done the day after. So my trip was a lightning-quick, drop-all affair. I was amazed to discover I managed and survived it all. That’s God’s grace for you.

Along the way, my companions and I passed by a number of lovely towns in Laguna—Alaminos, San Pablo (a city), then Nagcarlan, Liliw, Majayjay, and Luisiana. Especially in the last four, the views were just fantastic—all green, and abundant water flowing fast in rivers and canals.

Though the sky was gray, we still could see a wide and deep expanse of field all the way to the horizon. The road was winding, narrow, and going up and down as we cruised through hills, valleys and streams.

One thing I noticed was that even if the towns were relatively small, they were alive. They are not caught in a time warp. Markets were full of people, the usual fiesta streamers and commercial pictures, like the ones of wholesome Sarah Geronimo, dotted the places.

And—this was what moved me most—all these towns had big, old and clean churches. My friends immediately commented: “How nice, Father, that they still have big churches.”

It was a refreshing, spiritually-cleansing observation. When you are exposed to more a secularized environment, to see these towns and to talk to their people can be a quite a lift to the soul and heart.

When I reached Lukban, I had to wait for an hour at least, since the body and the papers still had to be prepared. I had the chance to look around, and even take lunch in one of their restaurants. You have to try their “pancit habhab” and the spicy “longanisa de Lukban.”

I saw the people—the young and the old, the students, the farmers, housewives—all of them looking simple and nice. I had no problem approaching them and talking a little with them. And they seemed to enjoy talking with a priest. The experience was like a whiff of fresh air.

When I entered the church, I found it cavernous, antiquated but well maintained. It was very orderly. For once I did not see a stray dog inside it. The staff people who took care of it were all very nice and courteous. Though it was my first time to be there, I immediately felt at home.

My mind was spinning with many considerations. The church must be to them their heart and soul. It was their permanent sanctuary that managed to defy the vagaries of time and the erratic behavior of the people.

It must be the core of their identity and stability. While old, it seems to know how to keep young and alive. It seems to know how to adapt with the times, getting what’s helpful while infusing its essential and unchanging religious influence on the people.

I saw in the houses I passed by images of saints that looked well-kept. They did not look like ancient ornaments left to gather dust with the passage of years. The piety of the people must be vibrant still, I said to myself.

My ardent prayer then was for this kind of culture to continue growing and deepening and flourishing. It’s a concern of everyone, both clerics and laity. May everyone know how to resist the temptations of secularization and paganization.

Catechesis has to go on without let-up. The people have to be taught how to tackle and handle their earthly affairs as more complicating problems, questions and issues emerge in the horizon. The idea of how to relate their faith and religion to their daily concerns should be studied thoroughly and prepared for.

In other places, especially in big cities, it’s saddening to note that the church is often given marginal importance and relevance. In rich cities, they might still manage to keep big churches, but they are often empty and lifeless.

And the people, in spite of what they enjoy materially, have become spiritually complacent if not dead. We have to avoid this at all costs.