Our Church, Our Refuge

We oftentimes see a church as a landmark. More than that, it is a refuge to many who are weary and longing for  home and direction in life. 


Coming from a predominantly Catholic country, I grew up in a community where it took me just seven minutes to walk to the nearest church. I studied in Naga City, Philippines where churches are part of its landscape and tourist attractions. Hence, I always suppose that a church is always within reach, anytime, anywhere in the world.


Staying in a new place is mystifying at times. The foreign and strange surroundings can unmask the deep and unsettling sense of longing for the familiar and comfortable world. This is my story when I stayed in Costa Rica and Jakarta, Indonesia.


When I went to Costa Rica for my graduate studies, the nearest iglesia or church was only 15 minutes away. That church is located in downtown Ciudad Colon. Literally, I had to walk down from my house going to the church, since my place is situated on a higher part of the town.


Like the Philippines, Costa Rica is predominantly Catholic. I even went “church-hopping” one weekend in the neighboring cantons of Piedades and Sta. Ana, and the city of San Jose. I noticed that churches in Costa Rica put a barrier after a few steps from the main entrance facing the altar. I think the purpose is to avoid disturbances and distractions from outside. Thus, from outside, no one could see the altar and pulpit. This setup discourages parishioners to stay outside while attending masses. This also somehow evokes a sense of sacredness and heavenly feeling once inside, shut from the worldly temptations outside, but welcoming the worried and restless hearts and souls inside the church.


In the Philippines, some people stay outside the church while attending Sunday Mass. This is evident in almost every church where people are spilling over the confines of the building. Crowded during Sunday masses, our century-old churches could not accommodate the growing number of parishioners. This gives reason and justification for people to stay outside while attending mass. Besides, there is no barrier a few steps from the main entrance, and there are both attractions and distractions outside.


I think that for Catholics, experiencing a new place meaningfully would not be complete without dropping by at a nearby church for a blessing, prayer or mass.  


For more than three months, I stayed in a predominantly Muslim country — Indonesia. Ubiquitously, mosques are common sights in the country. As a matter of fact, behind my house, there is a mosque. Halfway from my house to the bus way, there is another one. Outside a mall, beside a hotel, across a cathedral, Muslims have plenty of choices to go to and have no reasons to miss prayer time.


As a stranger in a foreign country, I did not know exactly where to go to attend Sunday mass. That caused me to shell out Rp 17,000 (P80) or less than $2 to buy a map of Jakarta City. With a map, I searched for gerejas (churches) near my place in Mampang Prapatan, Jakarta Selatan. There was none in a circumference of two kilometers. But I saw a number of crosses in the map that indicated and marked Catholic churches. That saved me from looking further.


When I saw in the map that there is a cathedral in Jakarta (of course, there is!), I immediately planned my first weekend to visit it.  

After few days in Jakarta, the Gereja Ketedral Jakarta was the first church I visited in the megacity. A one-hour bus ride and a ten minute-walk from the nearest bus station were worth all the planning and effort to actually see it. The cathedral looks magnificently imposing. Its gothic-style is a beauty to behold. Something pricked my chest when I stepped inside the church compound after having difficulty crossing the street from the opposite side. I stayed outside the majestic structure for a while, marveling its presence within my reach.


It was Saturday afternoon. There was a photo shoot in front of the church by a couple wearing wedding dresses. They looked so happy together, so natural together, in person and, I guess, in pictures too. Obviously, they felt blessed to be together.


The couple reminded me of….. ahhh.. love… it makes me wonder what I have been missing all this time.


Then, as if welcoming me, the door opened. Entering, I passed by the couple and smiled at them, appreciating their presence. At last, I was inside a church in Indonesia. My restlessness calmed down. A certain ethereal feeling enveloped me. I needed to sit. But I knelt. I was overwhelmed by the weight of my body. I had travelled for more than an hour just to reach this hallowed place. Silently, I prayed, thankful of the moment, of the whole walk, of many things, pouring my heart out to the One I long for.


Walking outside, I did not look back. Smiling wryly, I brought the cathedral with me. And my heart and soul found sanctuary in the bustling city of Jakarta, Indonesia. 

Now that I am in Nijmegen, Netherlands, a Church is a community of Filipinos and students who gather on Sunday either in the Student Chaplaincy (Studentkerk) or Molenhoek Church. My Church dwells in the fellowship of this community. While it is the refuge of my weary and restless heart, it enriches and nurtures my life as well.