Yesterday, October 4, Santo Domingo Church in Quezon City was
declared a National Cultural Treasure by the National Museaum. It is a fitting
salvo as today marks the 60th anniversary of the blessing of its cornerstone. The original church was in Intramuros build in the mid-16th
century. Unfortunately, it was ravaged during World War II. The Dominicans
started building the new church in 1952. Titled as the National Shrine of the Queen
of the Most Holy Rosary of the Philippines by the CBCP, this church enshrines
the 419 year-old image of Nuestra Señora del Santissimo Rosario more
popularly known as La Naval de Manila.
I share the pride, both as a
certified “Batang Kyusi” (colloquial name for a native of Quezon City) and as a devotee of Our Lady of La naval. My
grandparents, Florencio and Julia Quetulio, had settled in this area in the early
1940’s. It was hardly a strange place for them since either of their relatives
belongs to the same community. My mother, aunts and uncles, all eight of them,
where born and raised in this place. I myself was born and lived here for 25
years. Our ancestral home, partly destroyed by typhoon “Milenyo” in 2007, still
stands to witness the unfolding of the generations.
The devotion to Our Lady of La
Naval was passed-down to us by our grandparents, particularly my Lola. She being a true Manileña
had long been a devotee even at the old Santo Domingo Church in Intramuros. She was even a Guardia de Honor de Maria. It was short of coincidence that the new church was built
within the place she had her family.
As a child, I had never seen such
a large structure as Santo Domingo Church. This was long before there was SM
Mall of Asia or Robinson’s. Yet, we hear mass more often at our local parish
church of San Pedro Bautista (with its antiquity and equally grand history),
going a kilometre to this church is always exciting. I would wander alone, but
often with a chaperone, to the side chapel just to take a glimpse of the La Naval. I couldn’t take my eyes off the image. It was
so stunning and regal. Her image matched those depicted in fairy tales. This
icon of Mary may have stirred my senses too eagerly that even now, I am
captivated by the images of royalty and depiction of pageantry.
I remembered sneaking beside my mother praying
in our dimly lit room. I snatched the
tiny image of St. Anthony of Padua from her. She retrieved the image without
annoyance and handed to me, in exchange, the photo of the La Naval in an old wooden frame. I was in my own reverie as I
stared at the image unperturbed by the tears in my mother’s eyes. I was too innocent then to care about my mom’s
troubles as she continued her prayers.
It dawned too soon however that
life was no fairy tale. I lost innocence upon the realization of family
brokenness. Sarcasm had taken away my sense of awe. In my youth I was
confounded by personal strife. I searched for answers to life’s questions. I
tried new thoughts and ventured in different belief. Yet nothing can suffice
for my longing. I remembered a friend who introduced me to the Born Again movement. We were then young
at 18. At the funeral wake of my grandmother, he asked me, “Saan kaya pupunta
ang lola mo?” (Where will the soul of your grandmother go?). He was obviously insinuating
about my grandmother being unsaved and damned to hell for being a Catholic. The
audacity! What does he know about my lola?!
What an insensitive question to a friend in grief! I was dumbfounded. I was too
depressed to argue. But it was a turning point. Two more years since, I
rediscovered my faith. A mystical
experience one afternoon at Santo Domingo Church led me back to the faith of my
grandparents and carried me through the hardest times. God does indeed work in
mysterious ways.
This is my 21st year to make the
novena despite the distance from my residence here in Pasay City to Quezon
City. I had lived through the heckle of the cynics and in silence vanquished
the inquisition of the fundamentalists Christians (a.k.a. Protestants). I still get assailed by other denominations in
networking sites for being a Marian devotee. Withstanding the absurdity of it
all, I chose to ignore these. It is not my fault that they can’t comprehend.
Afterall, I don’t owe anyone an explanation. It is between me and my God. As it
was said, “To those who don’t believe no
explanation is ever enough. To those who believe no explanation is necessary.”
Only those who had personally experienced the wonders of Mary’s intercession
can fully grasp the theology behind this Divine design.
While La Naval is primarily about faith, personally this is also about
upholding family tradition and values. This is about returning to my roots and reaffirms
my sense of belonging to the community. Moreover, it is a time for me to
reflect at my past and gives me a moment to recapture childhood awe. Truly, “Not unless you become little children, you
will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3)
It is not important even if there is but a few
in our generation who would continue this solemn vow. My cousins had either
left for abroad or had become too sophisticated for this. It is but comforting
to know that at least two of us still regard this tradition. It is further encouraging
to know that even from far away some miss that familiar experience. My cousin’s
first question to me last weekend was to confirm my attendance to the novenas. She
is based in London and this is now the third year she is absent from the
festivities. It must be difficult on her being a foreign and alone in a strange
place. Moreover, having lost her mom (my aunt), who had gone ahead just more
than a year ago, had a greater impact on missing the La Naval. Before we
tearfully signed off, I promised to bring her prayers to the Virgin. For her
and other relatives everywhere, in memory of our grandparents and family
members gone before us, I make the solemn novenas to rekindle family unity
through prayer. This is our heritage. This is our faith. And nothing can be as
absolute as that.
