I recall having an interesting revelational conversation on Philippine Protestantism a few years back with my esteemed friend Timothy "Timo" Navarro, an underclassman of mine from high school.
Timo’s grandfather was Cipriano Navarro, a Methodist bishop, while my grandfather Jorge Bocobo from the Ilocano town of Gerona, Tarlac was a church-builder also from the Methodist faith.
Jorge’s father was an Aglipayan sub-bishop and an "escritor de literatura y obras" from Sinait, Ilocos Sur. In the course of this conversation, I learned further about a huge, historic Protestant breakaway in the country several decades ago.
The elder Bocobo would pursue the Central United Methodist Church (the very first Protestant church in the Philippines, 1899), while the elder Navarro would establish (in Pangasinan) the General Conference of the Methodist Church in the Philippine Islands (GCMCPI).
Later on, such other congregations would be born from this major split like the United Church of Christ in the Philippines’ (UCCP) Ellinwood Church in Malate, Manila, the Cosmopolitan Church on Taft Avenue, the Union Church in Makati, and even the Iglesia Ni Cristo (INC).
Felix Manalo attended Bible classes at Ellinwood, among several others. Such church split also reminds me of other much later congregations which, from breakaways, rose other churches. Back in the 80s up until the late 90s, I was a regular member of the Word for the World Christian Fellowship (WWCF) under Rev. Pastor Gerry Holloway. It was here where I received scriptural knowledge and met new friends who would later on lead their own congregations in other parts of the country.
These churches would rise to be other dynamic fellowship like the Greenhills Christian Fellowship (GCF), the Christ’s Commission Fellowship (CCF), Victory Christian Fellowship (VCF), New Life Church (Alabang) of Pastor Paul Chase, and even Pastor Tom Hines’ Christian Life fellowship which held its worship services at the Magallanes Theatre.
Today, many churches are busy spreading the gospel. Yes, including Pastor Apollo Quiboloy’s Kingdom of Jesus Christ (KJC), but the Bible explicitly warns us about the rise of fake prophets and teachers of the law:
“Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits.”- Matthew 7:15-16.
From Monumento to Sacramento Paoay to Hawaii
It is a fact that there is a Filipino family in every place in California, and their numbers keep growing, which probably explains the term “Californication.”
Even former West Sacramento’s Mayor Christopher Cabaldon traces his roots in Ilocos.
And perhaps his roots have originated from the close to forty thousand young Ilocano men who left the country and set their compasses for Hawaii and California between the years 1909 to 1929, working as fruit pickers and thereafter to look for white-skinned American women to marry and start a family of their own.
From this Filipino emigration began the Filipino-American (Fil-Am) generation numbering now in the millions.
But I believe Pinoys were in these places even much earlier. In Hawaii alone, around 85% of the Filipinos there are Ilocanos, and a large number of them are Protestants.
So it is not surprising that besides Tagalog, many of our kababayans in Hawaii speak and understand Ilocano.
The Unforgettable Chitang Nakpil
I am terribly missing Mrs. Carmen Guerrero Nakpil, “Chitang” to her close friends and the Carmen Guerrero Nakpil/Café Havana Greenbelt where I used to attend their lunches every 2nd and 4th week of the month.
It is an interesting mix of writers, poets, journalists and historians. Also, generals and putschists, artists and con-artists (pun intended). But all well-meaning and honorable in their chosen craft.
When I received her book ‘Exeunt’ a few years back during one of the group’s lunches, she also gave a second copy for my father. On it was a dedication for him which read, “For Ariel, best friend forever. Chitang.”
It took me a few more days until I had personally delivered the book to the old man, not to mention the joy of reading a few pages, part of which was a personal account of Mrs. Nakpil of the EDSA One Revolt.
I sat right next to my father (born and raised in Ermita, Manila) after giving him the book, and I noticed a teary-eyed senior as he read excerpts from it, including a chapter which the author made mention of him.
He handed me back the book, and turning the pages to the last chapter, I read these words to him: “And Ermita (Ah, my Ermita! My hometown with the snob appeal, the long gone citadel of urban civility) is now only the anachronistic surname of the recycled general in the Arroyo cabinet, who finagles with an inescapable Batangas accent.
I tremble at the thought of what monstrosities lurk ahead. Now, that I am alone most of the time, waiting for what we Catholics invoke as “the hour of our death,” I have begun to understand many things, both small and huge, fripperies and profundities, like the nature of our compassionate God, the steadfast qualities of the Christian religion, the peace that sustains all believers.
Also, why the millions of sweat-stained driven men on the streets of Quiapo, or the flagellants of Good Friday, maim each other to touch the hem of the Nazarene or to draw blood from their backs, and why God must love them more than
He does learned clergymen and theologians with their Bibles and their ornate vestments. We Filipinos draw our endless patience, our good nature and our trust in God’s master plan from a simple unshakeable faith.
I surprise myself by quoting a distraught son, daughter or friend, Teresa de Avila’s comforting lines which I learned when I was 9, “Nada te turbe. Nada te espante.” “Let nothing disturb or frighten you.”
“Everything passes. God never changes.” “Solo Dios basta.” “God alone suffices.” Exeunt. No longer restless or fractured, rid at last of all strange gods, this very old heart withdraws into peace. In the very end, after all is said and done, we need only God. Everything else is Vanity of all Vanities. All is Vanity.”
We were both speechless after.
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Factoid: Sergio Osmena and Manuel L. Quezon were classmates at the Colegio de San Juan de Letran. Osmena became President upon Quezon’s demise in 1944. He was 65 at the time of his death. On the other hand, Osmena was also 65 when he assumed the presidency although he was not directly elected by the people. He was a Chinese mestizo, an illegitimate child born to Juana Osmena y Suico who was reportedly only 14 years old when she bore him.
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