Whether we realize it or not, prayer is the encounter of God's
thirst with ours. God thirsts that we may thirst for him.
St. Augustine
One of my earliest recollections of Pinoy religiosity was the Salubong or Sugat on Easter Sunday; when my brother and I rushed to dress up still sleepy but were soon fully awake catching up with our father on the gravel road. I remembered craning my neck to see the angels standing side by side on the raised platform, facing the dense crowd that spilled over to the national highway. Their crepe paper wings looked real. They appeared the same in their white robes although a few faces were familiar to me. Then, as if by magic an angel materialized from above and hovered on top the Virgin Mary. The angel was singing as she fumbled to put the crown on the Virgin Mary. Then the real fun came when the multitude of angels started throwing flower confetti as they sang Alleluia. As if on cue, my brother and I joined the surge and scramble to catch the rain of petals. Later 
the scuttling and shoving crowd also divested the caroza carrying the Virgin Mary of its ornaments of flowers and crepe papers, ignoring the warning and pleading of our elderly American parish priest.
The flowers gathered at the Salubong were used as a charm to ward off some evil spirits and to bring good luck. The Easter flowers were treasured by gamblers, hunters, fishermen and farmers whose ventures much depended on luck and the vagaries of nature. My father who fished and farmed to supplement his modest salary as a government laborer was one of them.
I can't forget the night when my brother and I accompanied our father fishing with our new gill net. We started that night's venture with a ritual that would purportedly bring good luck and plentiful harvest to our nylon net. Out in the river, our father lighted the confetti of dried petals of roses and bougainvillea and put the burning incense below the bamboo slats mounted in our banca (small outrigger canoe). Then my father said his invocation as the aromatic smoke wafted through the fish net placed on top of the bamboo slats. Ironically, we hardly caught a fish that night but my father's faith on the confetti's charm did not waver.
I remembered the Palm Sundays when we trooped to the church to attend the mass and had our young coconut fronds sprinkled with holy water. My mother would make crosses of the fronds and tied three or more fronds together. The blessed coconut fronds would be displayed in our altar with the statues of the crucified Jesus and the Virgin Mary and the framed picture of Saint Vicente Ferrer. The consecrated palm leaves would protect the household from any harm, especially from lightning.
My first real exposure to rote prayers and devotional practices was the month-long Flores de Mayo, when the kids in the neighborhood were gathered in the Parish Church located at the other side of the Maigo River. It was before my elementary grade so I must be then six years old. I'm not sure if it was during the Flores de Mayo that I learned to pray the "Our Father," Hail Mary," and "Glory Be." Somehow, I've memorized these prayers before my grade school. The passage of time had obscured my recollection of my participation in the Flores de Mayo but I remembered the flower hunts in the neighborhood. The flowers which I picked up with or without the owners' permission were presented to the Virgin Mary. We must have been taught a few songs but I can only recall “Ave Maria” which we sang during the culmination program.
How about Christmas? I can't recall attending the simbang gabi so it is possible that I've not attended this midnight mass. But I can remember the Christmas carols.
In my childhood, Christmas carolers were much awaited and welcome in most households. A Rondalla, equipped with banduria, tenor guitar, banjo de arco, banjo and ukulele, would play traditional Christmas songs like Kasadya ning Taknaa (Joy to the World), Maglipay Kita (Let Us Rejoice), and Maayong Gabii (Good Evening). A group of carolers, properly attired, would render songs depicting the nativity. The host household members would happily listen to the Christmas carols at the porch or by the windows and would gladly give money or served snacks to the carolers.
There were the novenas for the dead in purgatory. I'll recount the novena for my own brother since it remained vivid in my memory. An elderly mananabtan (prayer leader) led the 9-day prayer for the dead in our living room, in front of the casket of my brother. She was sweating like the other supplicants, mostly elderly women, who crowded on the palm mat. The few men, also mostly elderly, who participated in the prayer sat or stood at the porch. "God have mercy on all the souls in purgatory especially the soul of Silvestre," the mananabtan entreated in her dragging and singsong voice. Most of the people at the canvass tents erected in front and at the back of our house did not participate in the nightly "Prayer for the Souls in Purgatory" and their noise filled the air as they played sungka and dama (checkers), bet at cards and drank palm wine and bottled liquor.
Today, I actively participate in religious services for the departed. But the services done by our lay group is different from the customary novena. There is Bible reading and sharing, honoring of the dead and much worship songs.
I embraced the Catholic Church's belief on the purgatory and that the living can intercede for the dead. In the Catechism for Filipino Catholics, purgatory means "the state of purification," so that those who died in the state of grace but are weighed down by the remnants of selfishness and sin, may be purified and thus enter into the everlasting glory with the Lord. The doctrine on purgatory is based mainly on its ancient liturgical practice of offering prayer for the departed.
My parents were not regular Sunday church goers. But to me there was no question about their abiding faith in God. Their prayers were woven into their daily lives, works and worldly concerns. They were God-fearing, hardworking and honest. They were kind and generous. The presence of strangers in their modest house was a testament to their generosity and kind heart. Some of those who came from far places stayed with them for a time but many were transients. One was a man with an advanced stage of schistosomiasis. With his emaciated limbs and bloated stomach, he was not a pretty sight and that might be the reason his wife left him. Looking back, I'm quite appalled that he was allowed to stay in our house for several months since at that time we didn't know that schistosomiasis was not contagious by contact. Another one was a lunatic. She was harmless but perpetually smelled of chicken dung since she always tucked a chicken with her as a travel companion. For about a year she regularly dropped by the house and slept overnight.
My parents were prayerful. Their trust in a divine providence was unwavering. They said their spontaneous prayers directly to God and through the intercessions of the Virgin Mary and the saints, especially San Vicente Ferrer (my parents' choice as my patron saint).
My father read the Holy Book and his Cebuano Bible had his marginal notes and highlighting.
My mother was a sought-after mananabtan. I can't remember her cursing. God bless her gentle soul! She would exclaim susmariosef (Jesus, Mary & Joseph), when surprised or startled. When faced with problems or troubles she would mumble the names of Jesus, Joseph and Mary and the saints for their help or intercessions. She was quick at acknowledging and thanking them for any good news or fortune.
Oddly my parents, who were both baptized Roman Catholics, believed that unseen spirits interact with humans. This was not uncommon to the folks in those days. One should not get the ire of these unseen beings. For example, always say (excuse me) when peeing in uncommon places. One should not cut a balete (banyan tree) or disturb its invisible residents, the engkanto.
The fascination and disposition for the supernatural and mystical give rise to faith healing. When I suffered my worst illness (abnormality of my optic nerve, a rare complication of the mumps I contracted in the university campus), my mother consulted a faith healer. The old woman used egg for her divination. After examining the egg yolk and the surrounding egg white of the cracked egg on the ceramic saucer, she declared that my illness was a spell by a river dwelling spirit. My mother dutifully performed the prescribed ritual to appease the invisible being. I was past believing in quackery. But I would not offend my mother, so I kept my thought to myself.
Can I blame my parents for practicing some forms of animism? Yes, but viewed in the context of what the Church has to say about the need to "inculturate" our Christian Faith into our Filipino ways:
"Filipinos are spirit-oriented. We have a deep-seated belief in the supernatural and in kinds of spirits dwelling in individual persons, places and things. Even in today's world of science and technology, Filipinos continue to invoke the spirits in various undertakings especially in faith healing and exorcisms." (Catechism for Filipino Catholics, CBCP, 1997)
Thus the Church recognizes that "maturing in Christian Faith comes only from personally interiorizing Jesus' message in our Filipino ways of thinking, loving and valuing." The Church teaches that "we Filipino Christians must know our own culture, and by our Christian Faith in Christ, purify, guard, develop, and perfect it."
Today, Pinoy religiosity remains largely unchanged as manifested in many religious fiestas, most prominently in the Feast of the Black Nazarene in Quiapo, Manila, when millions of people from all walks of life take part in the procession to fulfill their panaad (pledge of devotion) to the Lord. Every Biernes Santo, we see the spectacles of penitents hang themselves on the cross or scour their bodies with self-inflicted flagellation, a throwback of the extreme forms of mortification practiced by fanatics and heretics in the thirteenth century.
I have a more informed faith than my parents. I practice my religion in the light of the Church teachings and tradition. My exposures to lay organizations had further enlightened me and strengthened my faith in a personal God. A living God who is not distant or indifferent and knows what is going on in my life. An omniscient God who knows if I am faithful and consistent, not a split-level believer who is more concerned of what other people see and say. An omnipresent and loving God I can turn to in times of need and distress. An Almighty God I can worship and give thanks for big and small blessings.
I go to mass regularly and embrace the Liturgy of the Eucharist as the highest form of worship. I believe in the Church-instituted sacraments and sacramental. I recite the Rosary and have a regular prayer time.
I am far from being perfect in my religiosity and prayer but I accept my sinfulness and imperfection. My spirituality will always be a work in progress.
I draw my daily spiritual nourishment from reading the Bible "The Daily Bread" published by the RBC Ministries, and the online "Daily Bible Reflections" of The Kerygma Family of Bo Sanchez, the "Daily Reading & Meditation" of Don Schwager and the "Catholic Daily Reflections" of My Catholic Life, Inc.
My search for a living and personal God led me to several religious organizations. Chronologically: In the "Curcillo in Christianity," I prayed tearfully to experience the presence of Jesus; in the "Charismatic Movement," I sought the gifts of the Holy Spirit; in the "Knights of Columbus", I learned the principles of charity, unity, fraternity and patriotism as virtues among the brotherhood of Roman Catholics; in the "Couples for Christ" (later in the Banay Sa Dios), I performed my role as the priest in my home and shared the Gospel in my community and outside.
My prayers are far from perfect and are plagued with distractions. I encounter statics and poor signals in my communication with God in my prayers. These statics are unproductive but on rare occasions can turn out otherwise. The thought of writing about my religiosity and prayer was a static that crept in when I was reciting the Holy Rosary. Well, God works in mysterious ways.
I'm both predictable and fallible. I experienced times of spiritual dryness. At times, my attendance at masses was no more than an act of obligation. I faltered in my prayer time, and wavered in my resolve and commitment to put order in my life.
Saddled with my human weakness, I shall strive to discern God's will in my life. I need God's grace to strengthen my faith. I pray for the gift of wisdom to fear the Lord and avoid temptations, and the gift of fortitude to face life's adversities.
