Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle was given another honored role before the Catholic faithful: to present the fisherman’s ring at the inauguration of Pope Leo XIV, right at the heart of Roman Catholicism.
Centuries ago, such a scene was far from reality. Centuries ago, almost no one believed a Filipino could administer even a parish. Centuries ago, our ancestors proved to those who mocked them that they could. Little by little, parishes were handed over to Filipinos, and religious orders began to accept Filipinos, thanks to some Spaniards who saw potential in them, like the tandem of Governor General Simon de Anda and Archbishop Basilio Sancho de Santas Justa y Rufina.
But the racism continued.
Filipinos were suspected of anti-government activities and seditious thoughts, and were even implicated in the first student protest at the University of Santo Tomas in 1869 and in a crime (i.e., Philippine independence and nationhood in 1872).
There were Filipino priests dislodged from their parishes and humiliated in public (like what happened to Marcelo “Plaridel” H. del Pilar’s brother, Father Toribio H. del Pilar), removed from their positions (in the case of Father Victor Dizon del Moral, rector of the Colegio de Bacolor, now the Pampanga State University), deported to the Spanish territories in the Pacific (like Father Mariano Sevilla, the initiator of what we now call Flores de Mayo, serendipituously aboard a Spanish steamer, Flores de Maria), and three of them cracked their necks to death — the Gomburza — 153 years ago. The Reform Movement, led by young Filipino students and professionals, including Jose Rizal and Plaridel, campaigned for the expulsion of Spanish friars and the absolute secularization of the Philippine Church, to no avail.
Yet the Filipinos strived to prove they were worthy of a place in greater parts of the Philippines and within the Philippine church hierarchy.
The Philippine Revolution broke out in 1896, Philippine independence was proclaimed in 1898, and a Philippine republic, the first in Asia, was born in 1899 right in the Catholic church of Barasoain. In an 1898 anti-Spanish manifesto circulated after the failed Biak-na-Bato truce, it was said that “some seven million inhabitants” of the Philippines remained “professing” the Catholic religion “directed by [native] clergy with their proper ministers, taken from that fold of Christ.”
We became a nation, but the Philippine Revolutionary Government promoted neither the desecration of churches nor the abandonment of religion, although it had Spanish friar prisoners whom they persecuted. This nation’s founders, martyrs, and heroes just wanted what was right for the Filipino people, although it was definitely not perfect.
The struggle for a Filipino presence in the church hierarchy continued, leading to a local schism that gave rise to the nationalistic Iglesia Filipina Independiente and the adoption of new ways of preaching the Gospel, such as Protestantism, under American democracy in the Philippines, more than a century ago. Pope Leo XIII was then the Pope and tried his best to reform the church in the Philippines.
Nevertheless, the centuries of struggles of the Filipino clergy were rewarded. Today, Philippine parishes are entirely Filipino. There are now many great Filipino Augustinians, Recollects, Dominicans, Franciscans, Jesuits, and others here and abroad. Destiny seems playful, as Spain and Jerusalem have had Filipino papal nuncios (equivalent to the Holy See’s ambassadors) from Bohol and Naga City, appointed by the late Pope Francis in 2021, coinciding with the 500 years of Christianity in the Philippines.
The world was magnetized by the charm of our very own Cardinal Tagle, who himself was a native of Imus, Cavite, where Filipino secular priests emerged victorious in a protest in 1803 to transfer it to them. This reached the King of Spain, who favored them, but was ignored by a local Spanish authority.
The achievements of Cardinal Tagle and the rest of the Filipino clergy are manifestations of pagpapala ng Bathala (God’s grace) to a nation of struggles. As we see our clergy rise as leaders of the Catholic faithful around the world, where do we see ourselves, Filipinos, in these pagpapala? Is the trust of the Catholic hierarchy commensurate with the quality of society to which these clergy belonged?
Remember that the Spaniards saw the native Filipinos as unworthy of any role higher than a town chief, or even as excelling in many ways. They thought we were “Malayans” capable of doing uncivilized things, indolent, incapable of governing ourselves. But we overcame these things as we strived to become not only who we are, but to be free and independent. Rizal once said, “Let us prove to the whole world that when a Filipino wills something he can always do it,” and that “Genius has no country. It blossoms everywhere. Genius is like the light, the air. It is the heritage of all.” But these are not enough for a nation to live and continue the legacies of those who came before us. Our history may be great, but are we worthy of such greatness amid corruption, moral degradation, and blind fanaticism?
I was reminded of Ryan Cayabyab’s answer to my question years ago about his writing process for “O Bayan Ko,” commissioned by the Cultural Center of the Philippines to commemorate the Centennial of Philippine Independence in 1998. It is too gloomy and cynical. He said: “Ian, I don’t want to conceal my heart’s desires. A music that reflects irony: our heroes pinned their hopes and dreams that one day we may live under the gift of freedom and equality. Did we repay their memory? Are we worthy of that gift?”
Nevertheless, we may still be worthy of God’s grace and our great history of struggles. May we remain instruments of peace and light to whomsoever seeks the mercy and compassion of the Lord. – Rappler.com
Ian Christopher B. Alfonso is an assistant professor of the Department of History, University of the Philippines Diliman.
