Sunday, May 02, 2004

To understand the man that confounds us, one must first find out where he comes from. No, he is not from Mars. This is from the Philippine Daily Inquirer's Youngblood column, 16 November 2001 issue:

The Aglipayan Irony

By Ryan Josef Calauor



The Philippine Independent Church or the Aglipayan Church, to which I belong, used to baffle me with its many ironies. Unquestionably rich in terms of history and unfailingly visible in the realm of social activism, the Aglipayan Church has nonetheless become one of the poorest religious groups in our country. Any non-Aglipayan only has to look at the deplorable state of many PIC structures all over the country and, of course, in some cases their diminishing congregations, and he would conclude that the PIC, the most tangible remnant of the 1898 Revolution, alas, has hit rock-bottom.



A hundred years ago, this condition would have been utterly unthinkable.



The cream of the turn-of-the-century Philippine society, led by President Emilio Aguinaldo, Apolinario Mabini, Isabelo de los Reyes and Bishop Gregorio Aglipay, risked wealth and life to establish this "purely Filipino" church (which meant basically that no Spanish friars would be allowed to mount the pulpit). It was the Dream Church of Aguinaldo’s revolutionary government, a sanctuary where Filipino priests could officiate in various Philippine languages (and marry), where the Philippine flag would be displayed near the altar and the national anthem will be sung at the end of the Mass.



Unfortunately, as with all patriotic visions in this country, the Dream Church eventually was relegated to the backseat. Today, this position is manifested in the poor economic and political standing of the PIC in national affairs.



In our country, political power or influence remains the standard by which prestige is measured. And by this standard, the Aglipayan Church has lost much of its luster. It has close to zero representation in the judiciary, the legislature and the executive branch of the present government.



The reason is simple: There has never been an Aglipayan vote. Since the political clout of religious denominations ultimately depends on the ability of its leaders to deliver a solid vote, their leaders move heaven and earth to make this solid vote a reality during elections.



But for as long as I can remember, the PIC leadership has never pursued such a partisan campaign, notwithstanding the Aglipayan leaning toward liberation theology. This lack of political opportunism on the part of Aglipayan leaders seems to have diminished the influence of the church. As a result it has suffered a number of setbacks and disappointments that must have made our 1898 heroes turn in their graves.



In 1996, for instance, President Ramos asked Congress to change the name of Taft Avenue to Aglipay Avenue in honor of the PIC founder. The proposal died stillborn in Congress. This was followed by another recommendation making Aug. 3, the Aglipayan Foundation Day, a national working holiday.



That, too, was killed unceremoniously. But the most stinging rebuff came when the National Centennial Commission excluded the PIC from the Grand Centennial Parade of 100 historical floats at the Quirino Grandstand on June 12, 1998. The NCC deemed Aguinaldo’s Dream Church unfit and unworthy to be part of the national celebration. Its members desecrated the living symbol of that era in our history when patriotism was young, daring, pure and fiery.



The lack of political prominence of the Aglipayan has decimated its national constituency. I have always believed that churches should project themselves to people. Politics is one way of doing this. For many people who are awed by power and privilege, the more politically connected they perceive their church to be, the stronger their loyalty to their church.



The exact opposite happens when members realize that their church has fallen out of favor with the powers-that-be. They hastily abandon their church and jump to a presumably more heavenly denomination.



Such mentality is obviously pathetic. Such people apparently base their decision on the question: How could God be kind to this church which can’t even get a congressman to donate a ceiling fan, much less rename a city avenue after its founder? Spirituality brings many great things.



Spirituality brings many grand things. Something is wrong when we fail to honor a spiritual leader.



The past two decades have seen the exodus of thousands of PIC members who went on to join more political, better-organized and better-funded church groups. This way of getting new members is forbidden by the by-laws of the National Council of Churches in the Philippines. But some clever NCCP members, who have apparently benefited from the Aglipayan diaspora, have repeatedly turned a blind eye to this rule because, after all, they have been the winners -- and the PIC the loser -- in this inter-sect numbers game.



(I myself have been visiting other denominations for the past three years, in an effort to gain insight into their idea of worship and, thus, deepen my knowledge of the diversity of the Christian faith. My visits, however, have always been academic, non-political and temporary.)



To pious friends who derive much pleasure from hopping from one church to another, I say: There are no perfect churches, no sinless priests and no divine ministers. There can only be perfect faith, and it can be found in every church. Perfect faith is not achieved by switching churches; it can only be experienced by staying put, focusing, humbling oneself and reaching out to God in the most honest, earnest and personal terms.



In the history of the PIC, no obispo maximo (the supreme leader of the PIC) has ever issued a strict policy of adherence that would effectively address the problem of volatility in the PIC membership. Some fanatics have proposed a policy that would enforce allegiance and sanction anyone who would try to give up his PIC membership, or something close to it. In my younger years, I myself had seriously thought about this as the solution for the lack of loyalty in the PIC’s ranks.



But then such a policy would contravene the human right to free religion. Besides, only a cultist would really adopt such a stringent measure, and the PIC is not a cult.



In retrospect, I have come to realize that the absence of an iron hand in the PIC is not a sign of weakness but of tolerance. Jesus Christ as leader was incredibly tolerant. Thus, this element of tolerance in the Aglipayan mission is not a liability but its apotheosis. Its democratic essence is its greatest strength.



Whenever I think of my dear Aglipayan Church, I cannot help but think of Philippine society as a whole. There are many parallels between them. More than a century after the 1898 Revolution, the Philippines has remained a Third World democracy with a largely Third World infrastructure. Many of its citizens are going abroad in search of a "better life." A century after its founding, the PIC is experiencing exactly the same things.



I do not know if St. Peter asks people to describe the church they were born to. But if by chance he would ask me when I am at heaven’s gate, I will tell him mine was cool and I missed it. My church was cool because it resembled so much the society where I lived: it was a bastion of freedom, it taught me to love and see God in the poorest among the people and in the simplest of things; and it was never the favorite bailiwick of traditional politicians.



Ryan Josef Calauor, 25, grew up in the Aglipayan convent in Sibalom, Antique, and is a physical therapist by profession

I think that answers a lot. Doesn't it?


[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich

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