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.

Seeing through Rembrandt in Costa Rica

After the Holy Week, I ought to write about an image that kept on flashing on my mind. An image that consumed me for 20 minutes when I saw it. I felt at that time I existed for that image, to be awed, to be still, to interrogate my faith, to see myself through that image.


My last days in Costa Rica were capped by a visit to museum. The Museo del Banco Central  de Costa Rica brought 56 original sketches of Rembrandt to San Jose, Costa Rica. It was a rare and probably once in a lifetime chance to see original Rembrandt.

It was Saturday. I was set to leave Costa Rica on Monday at 3AM. There were parties (fiestas) waiting to be crashed/attended. I chose to see Rembrandt.

Who is Rembrandt to me? I have a sketchy knowledge about Rembrandt. What I know  is that he produced images from the Bible. He brought to life some of the famous Biblical scenes.

Outside the museum, there were many people waiting and wanting to see Rembrandt. As I was waiting for my turn,  I was able to practice my scant Spanish with a Tica student. I asked her why she came to see Rembrandt. She told me that she had nothing to do. Ironically, I was there, not because I had nothing to do. In fact, I had so many things to do.

When I finally got inside the museum, I lost her company and her name too. I started to look at the sketches.. black and white…hummmm…. hmmmmm…. dark and light… hmmmmmm…. contrast.. harmony.. hmmmmmm..

Then I saw her at a distance.. then I saw an image… the three crosses.. I saw my salvation.. I saw glory, my own.. I breathed life and death… I felt heaven dawning, here, now.. I heard songs of praise.. I thought victory, triumph of good.. I thought surrender, yielding to the light from Above.. I was nothing.

Then I lost her again.. I felt I lost myself when I went out of the museum. I saw everything around the plaza de la cultura.. They all made sense, colorful. It was like seeing them the first time, like a child seeing things.
Seeing Rembrandt is seeing life in, with me; seeing life in it, with it.

I wondered what the Tica student had done after seeing Rembrandt – still had nothing to do. I doubted.

My heart is lost somewhere; have you found it?

I don’t have class today. No classes until January 10. No more late nights for reading and rushing papers to meet the deadliest deadline. No catching up with the school bus at “chepe monge” at 8:30am. No “gallo pinto” for breakfast. No gaby for lunch. No tutorials in mathematics for Hannah and Seth. No emails from the department or classmates. No more raining in the afternoon. No more use for the umbrella.

 These have been the things I am used to have for the past four months.

When I go out in the afternoon, the breeze accompanies me to where I don’t know where I am going. I walk on the same road which becomes unfamiliar to me. Even to some dogs of my neighbors, I become a stranger. They bark the way they barked the first time they had seen me four months ago. Some leaves are scattered, together with the memories of new year’s celebration. Some stones are unturned and grounded, some roll as I make contact with them. I sing the same song as I walk.  I see the lush green landscape beyond Ciudad Colon.  Some birds hover at a distance. I used to remember someone beyond the hills, at a far distance; someone’s heart beats for me. Sychronization of heartbeat with mine. The language of heartbeat breaks barriers of space and time.

Now, no more. I could not hear her heart beating for me anymore. My heart beats. It is lost somewhere, beyond the hills. The birds could not guide it.  I could not help it.

I don’t have class today. Yet I don’t feel like celebrating. I don’t feel like on vacation. I feel like… I am losing my heartbeat. For someone, or no one, out there.

If you find it, please catch it and you'll be blessed by the power of love more than you can imagine.

Tratado Libre de Commercio (TLC): 2007 Costa Rica referendum

As a graduate student of United Nations-mandated University of Peace (UPeace) in Costa Rica, I was accredited as an international electoral observer by the Tribunal Supremo de Elecciones (Electoral Tribunal) in the historic referendum in Costa Rica. It was the first referendum in the country, and also the first referendum in the world to seek the approval from the people of a free trade agreement or Tratado Libre de Commercio (TLC), in this case the Central American Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA) with the United States. 

When I was preparing to go out that Sunday morning to begin the task as an observer, my host brother told me that he had already voted. So I learned that the polling stations opened as early as 6AM, particularly in Ciudad Colon.

From Ciudad Colon where most of the 27 international observers from UPeace are staying, a bus brought us to Raddison Hotel in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, for a briefing. After that, we were ready to go.

Few cars were plying the streets of San Jose. Most shops were closed. Near the churches and polling stations were the cars mostly concentrated and parked that day. Most Cantones (Towns) in Costa Rica have their church, government hall, school, and plaza near each others’ location.

Polling stations were inside the schools. Outside the schools, there were the unmistakable booths of the two sides, YES and NO camps. Vendors of campaign paraphernalias, drinks and snacks were stationed near the school. People were free to express their stance on the issue by wearing campaign T-shirts, pins, caps, and henna tattoos on their faces and bellies. Voters came at the polling stations with their kids and family. I saw children and young people playing with football inside the school or simply running and playing around. People were greeting each other left and right and exchanging pleasantries, causing narrow hallways congested with people. It was a festive and jovial atmosphere.

Notably prior to the election date, I witnessed a huge gathering of those who opposed TLC at downtown San Jose. It was estimated that more than 100,000 people were in attendance – the biggest assembly in a country of more than 4 million people. Sea of people poured in the main street of San Jose wearing the flag colors. Music was coming from loud speakers and also from drum and bugle corps, and people were just bouncing to the rhythm of the music. Vendors were selling souvenirs and food. It was a festival. Yet it was also a protest against TLC. During speeches, people were attentive and applauded intermittent instances with the deafening chant of NO T-L-C which sent emotions high. I felt it when my heartbeat pumped rapidly; my bones felt weak; and sudden coldness breezed causing a certain tightness on my skin.

When voting, people had to look at their names on the list of voters posted outside a polling room. Each list had a maximum number of voters of 700. Only three voters at a time were allowed inside the room. Inside a polling room, voters presented their national ID or “cedula” with pictures. Then, they got a ballot and filled that ballot with their choice.

With my little Spanish, I was able to chat with one voter outside a school. I asked him if he lives near the polling station. The man said that his place is far, but he was waiting for a bus commissioned by the Electoral Tribunal to fetch and pick voters from far places. Incidentally, I saw a bus coming with a Si (Yes) posters infront of it and on the sides. The man got inside the bus and waved at me when he got his seat.

After visiting three schools, we decided to go to the office of the Electoral Tribunal. Inside, we saw a hundred people queuing either to have their new cedula or renew it.

In the evening, we were invited to the announcement of a preliminary result at the Electoral Tribunal office. Outside the building, there were about 20 young people who were shouting NO T-L-C. People inside the building were unmindful of what was going on outside. At 9 PM, the tribunal announced that the Si (YES) was leading the No by a slim margin of 51.6% to 48.4% of nearly 60% turn out. To make it binding, the referendum is required to have at least 40% turn out.

There was an immediate celebration of the Yes camp at the La Sabana Park while there were also some reports of disturbances like burning of posters and street signs in the city by unidentified people. But no killings related to the referendum were reported.

The president of the country and a Nobel Peace Laureate, Oscar Arias, called on the No camp for reconciliation. However, some people in the No camp rejected this and cited electoral fraud and anomalies.

            To be part of this political exercise in a foreign country especially in Costa Rica was quite an experience. I saw a fair, peaceful, and orderly election. It was what Costarincces take pride on what they have become and what they could offer to the world, aside from their abolition of their army.