My New Favorite Place

I figured that I needed to write a post that would take me away from all of the grief, frustration and anger that has characterized my life for the last several months, a series of lows and lowers (as opposed to the usual highs and lows paradigm) that only just recently started to taper off.

I'd like to write about my new haven; the place where I go to on a regular basis to find inner peace: the Santa Cruz church.

I've been working at my new job in Binondo for nearly two months now, but for some reason I've formed no real connection with the Binondo church, as beautifully ornate as it may be. With its aged and crumbly gray finish, the Binondo church should theoretically appeal more to me, a self-confessed fan of old churches (who practically went into orgasmic ecstasy two years ago when we, my family and I, did an extended tour of the north, which as everyone knows is the place to find old, Spanish era churches here in the Philippines).

The Sta. Cruz Church, however, does not appeal to the old church lover in me. Although the basic structure itself is over two hundred years old, it's pretty much been maintained and updated through the years. The current exterior finish is an arguably somewhat bland coat of white paint, while the roofing is, I think, green galvanized iron. Granted, rare is the church, even in the Ilocos, that still maintains the old tile roofing, but the combination of plaster, white paint and green roofing can make people forget that they're looking at a structure that's nearly a quarter of a millenium old, even despite the classical Spanish era facade with the bell tower and everything.

But that's not the point.

What I hands-down love about the church is the austerity of it. It's actually very bare inside, in an almost Zen-kind of way. The hallmark of many an old church, including some of my favorites, is the huge structure behind the altar which houses either a central icon like a miraculous image of the Virgin Mary or the Baby Jesus, or two hundred million saints. There's nothing like that in Sta. Cruz; just a mosaic of a lamb and a stream of water flowing down from it (no, it's not taking a leak), which ends on the tabernacle. It's so very simple and yet so powerful. There are a couple of statues in the side naves, sure, but nothing too ostentatious. Most of the images are found in little alcoves near the entrance to the church, and as a result the people who want to pay homage to them are free to visit their favorite saint while the casual churchgoer is free to sit in the pews and just pray without having his senses bombarded by this statue or that statue. Also, the paucity of plaster images means that the Sacred Host, which is set on the altar for display during most hours of the day, gets all of the attention.

I think what I love about the place is how much easier it is for me to commune with God there. The architecture, and the whole "look at me, I'm beautiful" aura that usually surrounds and even sometimes saturates old churches doesn't distract me from what's really important about setting foot in the house of the Lord.

My wife tells me she also used to like going there, many years ago, when she was teaching in a Chinese School in the area. There's a certain poetry in that, I think. Maybe some day we can renew our wedding vows there or something. Or we could have our next kid (assuming there is one) baptized there. And lunch or dinner or merienda sena will be at a nice Chinese restaurant nearby. Whatever.

The point is I love going to that Church to find inner peace. It's nice to have a "special place" and while I consider Bohol the most serene place I've been to, at least I don't have fly a thousand kilometers or so to get to the place that settles my mind and spirit.