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November 2001
Dear Friends,
I heard from a friend of mine that crisp fall weather and radiant
foliage has returned to the Ohio Valley. Here the scenery is completely
different. Crisp fall weather is something read about only in
story-books. We can buy crunchy apples but they are imported from
New Zealand. Somehow, an apple eaten in 80-degree weather with
100 percent humidity does not have the same savory sweetness as
an apple enjoyed on a starry, frosty night.
Another contrast can be found in the architecture. The once-green
rice fields outside of the seminary compound have given way to
tipsy shacks, hammered together out of rusted steel plates, leaning
up against each other for support. The roads are crowded with
cars and people all weaving in and out of each other in an endless
stream. It is crowded and ugly, but seemingly necessary. Millions
of people stream to the cities in hope of finding work and shelter.
Their tireless ingenuity enables them to build these shacks for
their families and somehow find a way to scrape together a living.
The roads are congested due to the heavy traffic, but this allows
vendors to walk alongside the cars selling pillows, candy, water,
spicy peanuts, newspapers, washcloths, towels, roasted corn. At
each bus stop men and women get on the bus and move down the aisle
with refreshments to tempt the children and still the inevitable
thirst and hunger which arise when it takes 5½ hours to
travel 40 miles.
I would like to tell you how we celebrated All Saints Day here
in the Philippines. Halloween celebrations are unknown except
in the large cities. All Saints Day, on the other hand, is celebrated
throughout the country and is among the best loved holidays.
We were invited to Dean Eliz Tapia’s home to celebrate All
Saints Day. As in any journey, we got up early and were prepared
for an exhausting trip. Our journey began on October 31st at 5:30
a.m. President Apilado’s driver was kind enough to give us
a ride through the seminary gates to the bus stop. From there
we took a taxi-van to Manila, boarded the high-speed rail system
and descended from the train station to catch a bus to the province
of Bulacan. We arrived at the central drop-off point in Bulacan
and walked to the jeepney station. There we climbed into a jeepney,
and, after a short ride, got off at the market building where,
as a child, Eliz Tapia helped her mother sell fish. From this
market building we took a tricycle ride (motorcycle side-car)
to the home that Eliz Tapia shared with her parents and nine brothers
and sisters when she was growing up. We joked that we had taken
every mode of transportation available in the Philippines except
for boat, horse-drawn carriage, and ox. (We had been on a small
boat the previous week, and we had ridden in a horse-drawn carriage
when we first arrived in the Philippines so that left the ox.)
The small village of Santa Ana is quite distinctive. The streets
are lined with houses whose high walls and gates kiss the street.
When we entered the gate we were greeted with a shady front porch
and a large yard beyond the covered courtyard. Inside the house
it was equally cool. Cooking was done in an adjacent building
in the back to minimize heat and the threat of fire. The windows
are constructed of slats of crisscrossing wood and look like a
checkerboard. Instead of glass, however, each square is made of
a translucent shell. Outside these windowpanes screens keep out
the ever-persistent mosquitoes.
We arrived at the house at 11:00 a.m. and immediately went to
visit Eliz Tapia’s older sister, whose successful embroidery
business supports and nurtures her family. Throughout our stay
in Santa Ana we were warmly greeted and hosted by this family
and were made to feel part of this closely-knit clan.
It is a hallmark of Filipino culture that any success is shared.
If an older brother or sister, uncle or aunt, is successful in
business, they support their siblings, nieces, and nephews. They
put them through college and give them a place to live when they
first start their careers. It is telling that at graduation, the
graduate’s parents and grandparents walk up with the graduate
to receive the degree. It is the parents who put the stole around
the graduates’ necks and give them Bibles to accompany them
on their path in the ministry.
On All Saints Day we accompanied Eliz Tapia and her sister Noreen
to the cemetery to visit her mother’s, aunt’s and grandmother’s
graves. The sarcophagi are above ground and painted a pristine
white. Many grave-sites were covered with towering shelters and
bordered with benches. Some had carvings of Jesus at one end of
the shelter, and most graves were decorated with flowers. Many
people placed photos of their loved ones on their graves and lit
candles in their memory.
A festive atmosphere reigned at the cemetery. Families greeted
families. Old friends saw each other again after a year of separation.
Young couples strolled together among the graves to visit with
families and friends. Vendors sold refreshments, and families
set up picnic lunches. It was not a day of sadness, but of reunion:
a reunion of the living with the living and with the dead. It
reminded me that the early Christian catacombs were also outfitted
with benches so that the living could eat with those who had preceded
them to God’s eternal kingdom. It reminded me again that
in death we have nothing to fear. In death we are not separated
either from the community of saints and especially not from God.
Death is but a continuation of life and of our relationship with
our faith community and our God.
This visit to the cemetery was especially meaningful for Rachie.
At almost six, she is beginning to grasp the concept of death,
especially since several little animals have died since we arrived
in the Philippines. We were able to talk about their death, her
death, and our death in a way that was neither morbid nor strained.
She was able to see that families were happy being together and
continued to love each other in spite of the separation imposed
by death. I was able to assure her that they would all be joined
together in God’s eternal kingdom and would be as happy to
see each other there as they had been on earth. Just as we would
be!
We spent the rest of the day visiting Eliz Tapia’s extended
family and were chauffeured back to Manila in one of her sister’s
vans. From Manila we took another taxi-van to the seminary where
we arrived tired and content late that evening.
Missionary work is sometimes exhausting, but always rewarding.
Even the simplest excursions open one’s eyes to God’s
love for us and our love for God and the community of faith.
In Christ,
Mary and Paul
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