So I'm not sure what was more humbling yesterday at church: the fact that it was full to capacity, standing-room only, out the door OR my major ass-plant on the main staircase, with my butt checking each stair in front of the entire congregation. I'd say they're tied, primarily because the congregation showed more concern for the welfare of my butt than I did.
Stairs and butt cheeks aside, my attendance at Mass yesterday was a typical, if not, mandatory custom for Filipinos on Sundays. On a previous trip, I remarked to an uncle how amazed I was at the packed mall on a Sunday, to which he explained, "Anak ['my child'], Monday through Friday are work days, Saturdays are for husbands to visit their girlfriends, and Sundays are for church and family outings." Appropriately, the UST church was packed with families. Even arriving 10 minutes early, I was unable to find space in the pews, downstairs AND on the balcony. After recovering from Roland-ate-it-2011, I resigned to standing in the church lobby, with about 50 other churchgoers unlucky in their pursuit of a seat.
Comparing this mass Mass attendance to what I observe in the US, where pews are usually only filled to capacity on Ash Wednesday and Easter, I contemplated on the religious reverence upheld by Filipinos, their dedication to praising Jesus and their ability to appropriately celebrate the Sabbath with Him and through Him. For the first 15 minutes, I was honestly heartfelt and proud to experience the religious strength in numbers among the masses at Mass.
I guess in my posts, I've come across as condescending and overall displeased with my time here in Manila. In what sadly has become 'Roland-fashion,' my stories have evolved into an effective bitch-and-moan session. If anything, I would rather that my blogs act as an exercise in analysis, discussion, and reasoning through my time in Manila. I've come to understand that it's in the way I frame my attempted analyses of Philippine phenomena that shape how I approach my summer. Watching Anthony Bourdain, I find a way of experiencing a country that is not wholly unlike mine. Amidst his harsh albeit funny commentary, there is some element of discovery that happens. Hopefully, amidst my blog, you all, as my friends and family, will understand my trip and the resulting reflections less so as a complaining American, and moreso, as a learning student.
Either way, I began to take my enlightening experience at Mass to heart, imagining that among all the economic poverty and underdevelopment, the Philippines was strongly rooted and continually based in its faith. Could it be that among the ashes and embers of colonialism, globalization, and development, the glimmer of hope flickered in the dedication to a national embrace of Catholicism, or maybe less specifically Catholicism, and rather a common tradition?
As I began to question this, standing and listening to the priest's inaudible reading, I began to look around. Interestingly, what I had built up in the previous 15 minutes of reverence, respect, and national hope seemed to drain away upon closer investigation. What I saw among the masses was not absorption in the word of the Lord or in the recitations of Catholic custom. Most of the time, I found myself to be the loudest respondent with my "Amen" and "Thanks be to God." Now while one may argue that each individual has their own connection with God, I return to a debate that frequently followed Sunday mass at home, when my brother would question my mom on the reasons why she even attended Mass, if she never participated in the Sacrament or the other bells and whistles of Mass. She would explain that she was in God's house to have a closer connection during her prayer, which I may add, she, to this day, is completely absorbed when we do attend Mass: with a furrowed brow and silent mouthing of prayers and appeals.
This personal heart-to-heart with God was absent, though, in Mass yesterday. Instead, I observed eyes zoning out, trance-like fixation with fanning oneself, and worst of all, the desertion of custom altogether by way of text message. Though I was surrounded by Catholics in Mass, I found myself to be one of few actually IN Mass.
Now of course, I can't judge these other churchgoers. Maybe the zoned out eyes were focused on a crucifix out of my view, maybe the fixation on the fan was due to mental concentration on the Word, maybe those furiously texting were talking to their friends about the first reading. But in this sense, why am I giving Filipinos the benefit of the doubt? What makes them different from American Catholics in their own loss of religious traditions? Could it be, that f the pure image of mass Mass attendance somehow only presents, but does not define a deep-seeded religious connection?
Like my brother to my mom, I would ask, "Why do you go to church?" What is the real purpose, when you would clearly rather be watching some new-fangled reinterpretation of a US Karaoke show or sitting in an air-conditioned Estarbucks? I guess I can take this problem OUT of the Philippine context and think about it in a global scope. Has the act of participating in any religious service evolved into an act of custom and not of meaning?
Similarly, I would think that in a country touted as one of the most Catholic countries in the world, there would be a general sense of peace, development, and fair government. But does such logic follow here in the Philippines, where most Senators and Congressmen are friends of the President or popular game-show hosts? Where they deprecate their countrymen for entertainment and advance through financial corruption? Trust me, in my extended family alone, I've seen the religious hypocrisy that exists when a devout churchgoer has no qualms about mistreatment and ignorance of basic human rights.
Like most of my posts, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. I guess I was simply surprised and consequently intrigued by the duality in ideals and practice. Maybe that's the root of my exploration and research here in the Philippines: through my thesis research on the policy theory and on-the-ground practice, but also through my experience of the country as a whole, understanding religious, cultural, and historical theory, then seeing how they've clashed to produced an entirely different strain of practice and lifestyle.
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