A spiritual road trip

We took a different kind of road trip over the weekend. It involved not sight-seeing or leisure, although perhaps you could say it was leisure of the spiritual kind.

We left for Malasique, Pangasinan, to catch the last night of the visit of the miraculous relic of St. Clare in the Monastery of the Poor Clares in the farm of Ms Rosemarie “Baby” Arenas and her daughter, Rachel.

Because I was hosting a lunch gathering of my own congregation of “sisters,” members of the women’s group Pilipina for our annual Women’s Month get-together, our little party—composed of my sisters Joni and Charo, my son Piepie and his fiancée Tesh, and myself—left Manila at almost five in the afternoon. The trip through the new Mindanao Avenue bypass road to NLEx, and then through the SCTEx to Tarlac, was swift and uneventful, until we encountered some road work near Tarlac, Tarlac, that reduced us to a bumpy crawl.

It was almost 10 p.m. by the time I called Francis, Tita Baby’s personal aide, to tell him we were near. But it was Tita Baby herself who took the phone and advised me to “just stop at the market and ask a tricycle driver to guide you to the farm.” True enough, the drivers we approached all knew where the farm was, although the one we contracted asked for P150 because it was so late at night. (Tita Baby had said we could pay the driver “around P100.”) Knowing the lateness of the hour, we reluctantly agreed and found ourselves following the lone tricycle through a dark road lined with mango trees and clumps of bamboo.

But soon we found ourselves at the gate of the Arenas farm, and the guards immediately welcomed us and directed us to a small chapel on the grounds. There, we found the chapel brightly lit, with buses and jeepneys and other vehicles under the trees. Apparently, pilgrims visiting the relic had been coming in all hours of the day and night. But we hadn’t had dinner yet, so I asked to be directed to the Arenas residence.

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Too bad it was too dark to see more of the farm, all 30-plus hectares of which is planted to mango and other fruit trees. But the “farm house,” too grand really to deserve the term, was a welcoming sight.

Last year, Tita Baby had offered a parcel of land on which the monastery of the contemplative order of The Poor Clares could be built, making the Arenas farm both a working farm and a religious destination, as well as a political base for Rachel, who is the second-term congresswoman of the third district of Pangasinan. Tita Baby’s grandparents hail from Malasique, and it is this family connection that keeps Rachel, who has adopted the nickname “Baby,” hard at work serving her constituency in Central Pangasinan.

We were ushered by Tita Baby to the dining room where a 24-hour buffet served countless devotees and friends, political leaders and visitors from Manila. Since the relic of St. Clare (said to be a piece of her skull), which was brought over here from Italy, was leaving Malasique early the next morning for another Monastery in Bolinao, after which it was going to be brought back to Italy, the impetus for the visit was all the greater.

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Congresswoman Rachel joined us at the chapel where we repaired after dinner. Although it was close to midnight, there were still about a hundred pilgrims there, queuing up to kiss and touch the monstrance bearing the relic, and seated on the white wooden pews, reading novenas and perhaps meditating on their experience. Around the chapel were barangay officials, police and security personnel, sustained by endless cups of coffee and a huge vat of lugao.

You might still remember the movie “Brother Sun, Sister Moon,” about the life of St. Francis of Assissi and that of his spiritual sister, St. Clare. Together they founded religious orders that to this day emphasize simplicity and spirituality. The Poor Clares is an order devoted to prayer and contemplation, and its members are noted for going about their chores barefoot. “The monghas are here,” Tita Baby whispered to us, pointing to a room behind the altar shrouded by curtains.

Near the monstrance could be found the seated statue of St. James the Greater, one of the 12 apostles. Supplicants are told that the best way to approach the image is to hug it from behind. I felt a little silly doing so, but felt within me a glow of satisfaction, submitting my will and my not inconsiderable cynicism to the mysterious workings of the Divine.

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We spent the night at a local hotel, the Regency in Calasiao, but departed early because our next destination was Manaoag. Here can be found a famous miraculous image of Our Lady, who figures in our own family history as it was to The Lady that our mother prayed when my oldest sister Neneng was born a “blue baby.” Promising that if Our Lady saved my sister’s life she would bring Neneng to Manaoag once a year, Mama lived up to her promise with the annual pilgrimage marking many a family vacation to Alaminos, our home town.

We arrived just in time for Sunday Mass, but only after running a gauntlet of parking attendants, vendors and beggars. We had arranged to meet our cousin Lulu, who lives in Alaminos, and her party at the church, but seeing the crowd, we gave up hope of ever finding them. But lo and behold! We found some members of Lulu’s party, and held a joyful but brief reunion, another small miracle in our quest for miracles. Charo gave up a chance to touch the gown of Our Lady’s image because of the very long queue, so we satisfied ourselves placing lit candles at a nearby alcove, each candle bearing a prayer and a wish. Then it was back to Manila, where we await the fulfillment of our prayers, surrendering ourselves to a Higher Power.