One of the most photographed sunsets in Asia is over Manila Bay, a blazing sphere
settling peacefully into the sea, the gentle slopes of Corregidor Island and Bataan peninsula in the
distant horizon - a scene that can only be otherwise conjured in the movies.
From the breezy balcony of my 11th-floor condo, it is the nightly
spectacle (see above photo which I took from said balcony). Manila Bay has made
its place in history – the site of many a battle, including Admiral Dewey’s
defeat of the Spanish fleet, which effectively ended the Spanish-American War
and began the American colonial period over the archipelago. The story of the
Japanese invasion is peppered with heroic standoffs and brutality in Manila
Bay, the Bataan Death March being one of the most infamous episodes of World War II. Roxas Boulevard, the busy
artery that runs along the bank of Manila Bay, has seen its share of history –
from marching prisoners of war to papal visits, presidential inauguration
caravans and independence day parades to national hero funeral processions. Nowadays, when
the seawall is not serving to break surges during typhoons and tropical storms,
Roxas Boulevard’s wide sidewalk hosts scores of joggers and cyclists, playing
children, fisherfolk, snack stands, and families out for an afternoon walk.
With the warm tropical ocean breeze and swaying palm trees, such scenes are the
stuff of post cards.
But several years ago, I happened to see another side of my
neighborhood. My late mom and I had been going to midnight Mass together every
Christmas Eve for the 20 some odd years we were living in Houston. When I took
her home to the Philippines in 2013 after her second stroke, she was too
incapacitated to go on such an excursion, movement difficult and painful at times.
That year, I went to midnight Mass alone at the oldest church in Manila - the Baroque-style Nuestra Señora de los Remedios (Our Lady
of Remedies) or commonly known as
Malate Church, just a
five-minute jeepney ride from our condominium building. Built by Spanish
missionaries in the late 1500’s, Malate Church has withstood four wars,
countless floods, numerous earthquakes, and multiple typhoons per year.
The original statue of the Virgin Mary
brought by Augustinian friars from Spain in 1624 still presides over the
congregation from the altar today. More than 400 years since its original
construction facing Manila Bay, Mass can still be heard every Sunday morning
every hour on the hour from 6:00 on with packed crowds overflowing into the
courtyard, one of the few places on the planet where you can hear an Irish
priest celebrate an entire Mass in the Filipino language of Tagalog with an
Irish accent - including the homily.
After
midnight Mass on this Christmas Eve several years ago, I walked home along
the
seawall of Manila Bay on Roxas Boulevard. In the wee hours of the morning, this historical site
popular with joggers and tourists, becomes home to families with nowhere else
to go – even on Christmas Eve. As I walked alone, the sound of the ocean
lapping at the rocks on the other side of the seawall wafting endlessly into
the starlit night, I witnessed what must be among the worst conditions humanity
has created - entire families asleep on the sidewalk, including small children
on beds made of cardboard. This depth of multi-generational poverty is by no
means unique to the Philippines, but Manila is full of families sleeping on the
streets. The most basic social unit in Philippine society is the family.
Filipino families stick together for generations. Within a typical household,
it is normal to find grandparents, parents, kids, even great-grandparents
sometimes living together. This is the case no matter what socio-economic class
one is in, whether of the privileged class or of the poor; homeless Filipinos
are homeless as an entire family – grandparents, parents, kids, even
great-grandparents sometimes living together on the street.
As I walked among these families, little children lying asleep on the sidewalk
on Christmas Eve, their parents watching over them, no presents waiting to be
unwrapped, with not even a blanket (see above photo which I took that night), I
saw what Jesus has been trying to tell us for the last 2000 years, why He wants
us to hear the story of His birth over and over and over. He wants us to search
for Him, and He is telling us where and how to find Him. For Jesus Christ is
born everyday millions of times a day. He has told us over and over that we
will find Him among the persecuted, among the suffering, the disenfranchised,
the marginalized, among those who have nowhere else to go and who have no
choice but to fashion a bed out of whatever materials they can find. He is
around us.
No part of the story depicts what challenges the Magi must have had to endure on
such a long pilgrimage. But knowing what we know now of the region's terrain,
the climate, the geography, the technology and social conditions of the time,
we can bet it was not easy. Their determination to complete this journey and
find their new King despite the hardship and the odds is a testament to the
depth and strength of the Magi's faith, fuelled undoubtedly by the promise and
joy of salvation. And upon arrival, there is no telling what spiritual
transformation they go through when they first lay their eyes on Him, and drop
to their knees not before an emperor in a grand palace with a great army,
chariots and archers ready to conquer the world by forces of violence and destruction,
but before a baby born homeless in a bed fashioned out of whatever materials
His parents can find, a refugee rejected and outcast by those with whom they
sought shelter, yet here to conquer the world by forces of love, forgiveness,
peace, and mercy.
We must
decide who we are in this story of Christ’s birth. Are we the inn-keepers
repeatedly rejecting Him? Are we the soldiers hunting to exterminate His threat
to the existing monarchy? Or are we the Magi whose depth and strength of faith
continuously lead us to Him and thus to our own salvation?
It can be
a challenging proposition indeed to believe that we find our Savior amongst
those who own no earthly property. The three kings travel from afar and are
able to find Christ with nothing but a star to guide them. We have our journey
to traverse, our own challenges to face and hardships to endure. Christ has
told us where to find Him, we just need to get there...
