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.

Indonesia's Independence Day: Freedom of a new Nation to Birth of a new Region

In August 2008, I was in Jakarta, Indonesia celebrating the Independence Day (Hari Kemerdekaan) with the villagers in Mampang Prapatan, Jakarta Selatan. It was a fun-filled and grassroot celebration of games and dancing to mark an important day in the history of the nation.

Sixty-five years ago, Indonesia gained its independence from the Dutch authority. It was to mark the birth of a new nation, rebuilding it with its own peoples' creative minds and determined hands, according to its own design, identity, and aspiration. Nationalism was at its peak. The pride of being Indonesian and of all that was Indonesian reverberated in the bones and marrows of those who waited, struggled, and won for the newly-independent nation. That was sixty-three years ago.

After sixty-three years, is Indonesia getting closer to the design that the proponents of independent Indonesia have imagined? Does the nation's current situation have a tinge of their aspiration? Have the peoples become more Indonesian or less? These questions are necessary to rethink and reflect on the direction of the country. But it is likewise necessary to consider who we are, historically and culturally, if we want to discern what our place in this globalizing world is.

Indonesia is composed of multiethnic and multireligious population. The mosaic of the country is rooted in the variety of food and languages, diversity of performing arts and customs, wealth of heritage and history, and archipelagic landscape. There is so much to be proud of in the country. And that pride is entrenched in the hearts and minds of Indonesians and expressed in their daily lives.

Remember sixty-three years ago. Indonesia should never be the same as it was.

This year saw the declaration of Kosovo as an independent country. Kosovars who are mainly ethnic Albanians and Muslims celebrated frantically the historic moment of separation from Serbia, a predominantly Christian country. The new republic of Kosovo promised to embrace everyone in Kosovo regardless of their ethnicity and religion. Nationalism drove the peoples of both Kosovo and Serbia on the streets; one celebrating, the other protesting.

Imagine Kosovo sixty-three years from now.

Certainly, Kosovo will be part of the European Union. And most likely, Serbia will also join the EU. Nationalism which drove these two countries to go at each other will be replaced by regionalism which is a key in dealing with the challenges of the globalizing world.

Indonesia is a founding member of ASEAN which has a binding Charter for all member-states to ratify to be integrated more into one dynamic community. Sadly, Indonesia has yet to ratify the ASEAN Charter, along with the Philippines and Thailand. The ASEAN Charter is gearing up the Southeast Asian regional organization towards a rule-based association.

Timor Leste which gained independence from Indonesia in 1999 has expressed its desire to join ASEAN. Both countries have a hostile past of each other. Both will be integrated into one regional organization, one vision, one identity, and one community working for peace, stability and prosperity for the peoples of ASEAN which recently celebrated its 41st founding anniversary.

In the celebration of ASEAN's anniversary, the current Secretary-General of ASEAN, Dr. Surin Pitsuwan, mentioned that the world is excited about the prospects of ASEAN with the Charter at hand. The prospects present a region that can stand and take care of its own affairs effectively and peacefully. That means, "one region less a problem to the world," he said.

As the host country of ASEAN Secretariat and a third of the region's population, Indonesia is vital to the process of attaining the vibrant prospect of ASEAN. Thus, Indonesia's independence must move its design, identity and aspiration towards working with its neighbors, its partners for peace, stability and prosperity in the region. It has to take the lead in the integration bid when other ASEAN members are facing their own internal and political problems.

Like nation-building, regional structures have to start building in the grassroots where people identify themselves. ASEAN can look at the way Indonesians celebrate their Independence Day. And be inspired from the historical and cultural bond that peoples take pride on.

Motorcycles reign on Jakarta Streets

Let me begin by saying that I have been a pedestrian for so long as I could remember, and I am proud of it. Pedestrians, unite and walk!

One thing I could not miss noticing in Jakarta is the ubiquitous motorcycles. Every morning when I am on the way to ASEAN by a Metro Mini (mini-bus Jakarta style), a herd of black helmet and jacket-wearing motorcycle  riders swarms the streets of the eight-lane Mampang Prapatan up to the four-lane Kap Tendean. Mampang Prapatan's two-lanes in the middle are reserved for the exclusive use of TransJakarta buses.

One good thing about the Metro Mini buses is that they are loads of them with designated numbers. My bus is number 75. I have not seen number 1 though. But I saw number 610. There must be lots of them here. Creatively, they have the same color (combination of orange and blue). That's why I don't have to miss my number or else I will get somewhere in Jakarta, not my destination. I think I should try to be somewhere I don't know. Hmmmmm...

There is another Metro Mini buses named Kopaja. They are colored green and white. They have numbers too. They distract me whenever I am looking and waiting for my bus 75. I have the bus number on my wallet, cellfone, notebook, and on the first day, on my palm. Great way not to forget huh! Trust me, it works.

Anyway, from my house, I ride on a motorcycle or I have to walk 25 minutes in a "business causal" attire. Wow, you should see how Jakarta has changed me! I look good and feel good. Believe me, otherwise you're not my friend. Coincidentally, "Yakob" usually drives me to the busway. It costs me 5,000 rupiahs (1 peso = 200 rupiahs). It costs me more than riding a Metro Mini which charges 2,500 rupiahs. When "Yakob" learned that I am Filipino, he immediately blurted with a closed fist while driving, "Manny Pacquiao." He loves Pacquiao more than I do, I think. What's not to love in Pacquiao? He won again another title. This time in the lightweight division, and distinguishing himself as the only Asian to win championship titles in four different weight divisions.

Every corner of the streets in Mampang area has a pool of motorcycles waiting for passengers to take them somewhere. In my house, there are seven motorcycles and five cars parked inside the compound. We are, in my unofficial count, 15 tenants in the house. So only me and two more pedestrians who do not drive a fuel-powered transportation machine.

Based on a news report in Kompas June 6, 2008, there were about 45,948,747 motorcycles in Indonesia in 2007. It is almost 46 million motorcycles spread across the archipelago. With 222.1 million population, Indonesia has 1 motorcycle for every 5 persons. So Indonesia is basically running on motorcycles.

Whenever I go, I see very few people walk on the sidewalks or streets of Jakarta. Motorcycles become people's convention to move from one place to another. I understand that motorcycles move fast and can navigate the streets on their own way. Besides, they consume less gas than cars.

In the portion of Jakarta where I pass, deserted sidewalks are typical scenes. I and Biney (my classmate and co-intern in ASEAN) use the sidewalk with ease and leisure in the afternoon for strolling, under the shade of trees and cloud of gas-smoke. I look around.

Where have all the pedestrians gone?

They have taken over the streets of Jakarta, on their motorcycles.