Our Bohol

Jacinto Mandal, the police chief of Loon, Bohol, was at work at the police station when the temblor struck. Rushing outside, he saw people spilling out of their homes onto the streets, screaming. They all proceeded to the municipal hall. There they found the town mayor, himself in a daze. The mayor then motioned them all to go to the church. But the church—the stately Nuestra Señora de la Luz, built in 1855 by the Augustinian Recollects—was no more, its coral masonry reduced to nothing but a heap of hopeless rubble. The biggest church in all Bohol was gone.

Meanwhile in Loon’s countryside, farmer Serafin Megallen frantically dug into the rubble of what was once the house of his mother-in-law. He found her and a cousin alive. Three hours later, they were dead—from their injuries. A neighbor with a truck offered to carry the bodies to the town mortuary, but the bridge that spanned the river had collapsed. Finding a boat, they brought the bodies to the church for the last rites. But there was no more church.

Churches are not just buildings. The Church is the people of God. The more reason there is that the historic churches of Bohol should be restored.

There are those who do not understand that. But it is the people of Bohol, one of the most deeply resilient in the faith—probably second to none in this country—who are showing us the way. Seconds after the earth wildly shuddered and seeing lives, limbs and dwellings smashed to eternity, the Boholanos repaired to their churches as naturally as one goes home. THAT is the heritage that we are now going to restore.

It is undeniable that attending to the living is central to all relief and rehabilitation efforts. Of paramount urgencies are food and medicines. Public utilities providing electricity and potable water are in the first order, just as public health will be addressed to check possible outbreak of diseases. Dwellings will have to be provided soonest. Roads and bridges will have to be rebuilt. The task is gargantuan. But the process dictates as well that the quality of human lives be restored—and the trauma and pain of an untold tragedy transcended. That is where the restoration of churches comes in.

Churches have always been an inseparable part of the Boholano way of life. Those churches were not just heritage for heritage’s sake, for heritage is not merely for memories and reminiscences. Where people commune, there is their heritage. There is where their history was created and continues to be retold. Inabanga’s Church of San Pablo Apostol, for instance, was central to the revolt begun by Dagohoy just as the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño in Cebu City is the cradle of Christianity in the Philippines.

What are going to be restored are not just

physical structures but structures that keep the quality of life alive. They are  about the traditions that keep people’s bonds intact. They include the faith and mores that have kept them whole, inspiring them to greater heights, comforting them in the nadirs of their lives. They are the intangibles that comprise the greater part of heritage and shape their identity as a people. The world-renowned Loboc Children’s Choir was seen singing “outside” (in the backdrop was the rubble of) what was once their 1638 church of San Pedro Apostol, said to be “the cradle of the Boholano soul.” Here was born the distinct Boholano traits of deep religiosity, cohesiveness, dedication to traditional values and great love for music. Those who scoff at the suggestion and who now question why Bohol’s heritage churches should be rebuilt should face a Boholano and tell that flatly to her or his face. One will see the face of anguish that should put to shame such insensitivity.

Gazing up the frescoes of the church of Nuestra Señora dela Asuncion in Dauis on the island of Panglao, or of the church of Santa Monica in Alburquerque (fondly “Albur” to the Boholanos), one is awed by the great artworks done, mind you, not by European clerics or friars but by Filipino artists. These were not made whimsically for art’s sake. Church art was created for the purpose of facilitating adoration among churchgoers. Tell a Boholano you will not restore that.

“We are not sure if government can fund these restorations because of the separation of church and state,” Malacañang spokesperson Abigail Valte said. It is government—through its National Commission for Culture and the Arts, the National Museum of the Philippines and the National Historical Commission of the Philippines—that declares heritage sites as “national cultural treasures” (NCTs) or “national historical landmarks” (NHLs). Under Republic Act No. 10066 government is duty-bound to protect such sites when these are imperiled. Not just Catholic churches are listed as NCTs and NHLs. Protestant churches, Muslim mosques and other denominational buildings are on the list as well. A quake that reduces to rubble the historic Mosque of Taluksangay in Zamboanga City or the mosque that contains the remains of pioneer Islamic missionary Sheik Karimul Makdum in Simunul, Tawi-Tawi, would call for the same government action that Boholanos now expect on Bohol’s ruined heritage churches.

While sifting through church rubble, Regalado Trota Jose, the country’s foremost church heritage scholar, was asked by a media person why he was so concerned. Was it the artistry? Was it the length of Jose’s involvement in the study of Philippine churches? The media man did not understand. A church stands for the people of God.

Our hearts break for the people of Bohol. Sa among mga igsoon nga Bol-anon, ang among kinasingkasing nga panaghiusa kaninyo niining panahon sa inyong katalagman. Ang inyong katalagman amo-a usab (To our brothers and sisters in Bohol, from the depths of our hearts, we are one with you in this time of crisis and tragedy. Your sufferings are also ours, no less).