Tag Archives: Faith

Hanunoo-Mangyan Beliefs : their Visible and Invisible World

For the Hanunoo-Mangyans of Southern-Mindoro the beginning of everything started with the Mahal Makaka-ako, a supernatural power “in charge” of the universe. No folktales are available to explain how creation took place, except the stories that clearly show a Christian influence. About the Mahal Makaka-ako, little is known. For this Divine Entity does everything by intermediaries or “messengers”. They are sent to be of assistance to mankind, in any kind of difficulty that threatens the normal, and rather uncomplicated, pattern of everyday life of a Mangyan. The Mahal Makaka-ako is known to have compassion for man, although in a rather impersonal way, and from an underfined remote distance.

Life (buhi)

Life, on earth, as created and existing by the Divine Entity, as distinguished by the Mangyans into a visible and invisible dimension. Visible life is represented by mankind, the animal world, the plant world and by “other things”, including: earth, stones, water and the sky with its celestial manifestations. Invisible life is thought to consist of the souls of everything alive here, or in the life to come, including even the Mangyan-house; the good spirits, whether familiar or possessor; the evil spirits; and the “earth people,” a kind of dwarfs that can make themselves visible to man, be they helpful or harmful, and can offer additional means of protection.

Although initially all life, whether visible or invisible, was created with good qualities, emanating from the Mahal Makaka-ako, evil thoughts and actions entered the human souls, and caused certain souls to be converted into “evil spirits” in the afterlife. Our world, where all life resides, together with its surrounding heavenly spheres, is envisioned by the Mangyans as a great, round mass containing all life, and held solidly in place by a sturdy vine, the balugo that envelops and supports the whole. At the base of this huge liana, that is surrounded by water, resides the Apo Daga, or caretaker of the earth. The task of this spirit is to guard the vine and its roots, and keep them in good condition. If ever the branches of the vine would get detached, it would mean a disastrous flood affecting the whole earth.

The Visible World

The visible world is classified and interpreted by the Mangyans in their own peculiar way, as it is understood by the Mangyan tradition. Their interaction with nature is often prescribed by a set of rules handed down in the course of tradition. A Mangyan depends on the surrounding flora and fauna, but Mangyan tradition has equipped him/her with an accumulated wealth of encyclopedic knowledge about the animal, vegetable and mineral nature, and the ability to make use of all these to the benefit of all those concerned, under the most optimal ecological conditions. Anthropological research revealed that among the Hanunoo-Mangyans, “1625 specific and mutually exclusive native plant type categories”3 are utilized for purposes of: food, medicine, ritual, personal beautification, technology, economy and trade, and social activities.

Mangyans, as upland farmers, apply the “swidden cultivation” method since time immemorial. This entails the cutting and cleaning of certain portions of the forest, to be planted with rice and a variety of root-crops, vegetables, etc. that are needed for their daily subsistence.

The Mangyan Poet queries:

Kanta daga banayad            Our good and precious soil
Hintay nguna ti mayad       Would it be so beautiful
No ud saludnan guhad        if we would not and toil?
Madali yi matup-ag            Very soon it would be waste.

Kanta daga sa kaybi             The land we possess of old:
Hintay di wa ti Bali               What’s the value and the use
No ud tanuman ubi                if not planted full with yams?
Ma-uyaw yi madali                Very soon it’d be destroyed.

In the cleaning and burning of the fields, extreme care is taken that the fire will not spread to adjacent areas. To prevent this, a wide path, as a fire-trap, is cleaned around the whole portion to be burned. No unnecessary forest destruction is permitted within the tradition. After the portion has been used for a few successive years of intensive cultivation, the land is abandoned, and left to recover during a period of around ten years or more.

Forest areas that are thought to be “in possession” by nature-spirits, or are used as temporary burial places, are left alone and will remain taboo for any agricultural use.

In the past, this method of agricultural use of the land, resulted in a balanced ecology. However, the increase in population, the aggressiveness of migrant lowland settlers, and the delimitations by the government of land-areas set aside for other purposes, all these factors have severely affected the traditional shifting cultivation of the Mangyans. In reality, this method is no longer sustainable under the present deteriorating ecological conditions. The same can be said about the hunting, trapping and fishing activities of the Mangyans that show a sophisticated technique and a rich variety of hunting tools and trapping devices. They have provided them with a welcome supplement of protein to the carbohydrates of a rather monotonous diet of rice, bananas, and root crops. But nowadays, except for the occasional wild pig or monkey, the only protein-rich food supply collected, is coming from the sea at low tide, when mollusks and shells are gathered, and a number of wriggling squid is caught.

The present visible world that confronts the Mangyan every day, will present him/her with new challenges, often unexpected ones, that he has to cope with to the best of his/her abilities. But the Mangyan resiliency, ingenuity and art of adaptation for sur-vival is still strong, and will carry him/her undoubtedly a long way through the difficulties to come.

The Invisible World

But there is still the invisible world, that is not to be underestimated in value, since it is experienced by the Mangyan as not less important than the one he/she has to deal with on a daily basis. Many bodily needs and problems can be solved by applying the help nature has provided, and medicinal plants are only a small but valuable part of it. But when there are diseases that defy any treatment with the standard medicines, of problems arising from the realm of the uncontrollable natural phenomena, or suspected unseen powers, it is the invisible world the Mangyan has to cope with. It might be that this revered tradition has provided him/her with ample resources to tackle problems that refused to be solved .n the visible counterpart.

Presented here are: (1) the soul in its various dimensions; (2) :he good spirits in different applications; (3) the evil spirits, whether “by nature” or “by accident”; (4) the earth people, and !:he various magical means of protection offered.

The Karadwa (Soul)

Is there anything as close to man, and yet as invisible as his soul? The human soul, or karadwa,5 will always accompany the “owner” of the body in life, wherever it goes. It will adhere to it like its shadow. Yet, for the Mangyans, its attachment to the body s “flexible.” It can temporarily leave the body of its “owner”, though still being connected with it by a thin lifeline. This leaving
5 Karadwa (kadwa = the second part that the human person is consisting of, aside from t he body) can be voluntary, like when the “owner” of that soul is dreaming during sleep. After the person wakes up, the soul will be back again.

However, the soul will leave the body in fear, when it perceives a labang or evil spirit nearing the body. The labang wants to catch the soul to pervert it into an evil soul or spirit. If the soul then leaves the body, to escape the labang, the person concerned will become sick, and the body will weaken. A spirit-familiar, like a daniw is then needed, managed by a shaman, to drive the evil spirit away, and escort the wandering soul back into the body. At that moment the sick person will be well again. If, however, the shaman, through his/her familiar or spirit, would not succeed in making the soul return to the body of its “owner,” notwithstanding the pleadings of the pandaniwan (a shaman controlling/operating a daniw-spirit), this might result in a permanent separation of the soul from the body, or death.

Mangyan poetic literature i.e., the ambahan, is full of these frustrating efforts of the shaman, in using all kinds of arguments to attract the wandering soul to rejoin its earthly body, and restore its owner to previous health. All the loveliness of surrounding nature are paraded by the shaman before the delinquent soul: “The bright moon in the sky/ the vines along the trail/ the sheltered mountain slope/ the shaded coco palms/ the rustling nipa trees/ the fragrant perfume-plants/ the water tumbling down/ waterfalls, so nice to watch.” But it doesn’t seem to make an impression on the soul any longer. However, the shaman will not yet give up:

Kawo pagbali way man             Soul, won’t you come back again
Labagan nagsibayan                   to the house you left behind,
Aghuman inalikdan                      the field deserted by you?
Ud aw ka magkanoy wan         Do you not have pity on
Ti nangulin sa lingban                 the children left in the house?
Dait wa man rug-usan                Small they are still, weeping loud,
Ga uway ud way sansan           like vines with leaves still in bud,
Payi may pagguyabdan             they have nothing to hold on to
Salag wadi hagbayan                  They are only babies still.
U di yawam ugsadan                    Even just around the house,
Ud wa pantcm mangginan       they are helpless, they can’t walk.

But it will all be in vain, and the answer of the soul is definite and decided:

Ti nangulin bay lingban               “Those I left behind at home,
Manalingsing man Iukban           he children, like sprouting leaves,
Manipas man bailan                        even if they’re washed and clean,
Karadwa payig balkan                  still my soul will not come back,
Una way ulinyawan                         even if they cry hot tears.
Nakan kis-ab sugutan                    I will tell the reason why:
Urog kang magtukawan              I am happy where I am,
Sa ud may amyan amyan             No more storms and no more rains!”

And as a final reminder the soul is telling all of us:

Kanmi bay paglabagan              “Our house here on this side,
Kawo no ud katim-an                  maybe, you don’t know it yet,
Padi nga sitay adngan                 is not built upon the Earth.
Luwas way lugayawan              Far outside heavens it stands!
May takip waya amyan             Far beyond the places where
Alintapukan uran                           the storms and the rains prevail!”

Now the shaman knows, he has another task to fulfill, namely: to guide the soul to its final residence, the karadwahan, or abode of the, souls in the afterlife, which might be hard to find without assistance. But with the powerful help of the daniw, or spirit-familiar, an expert shaman will succeed in bringing the soul of thy.’ deceased safely home.

The soul, on its way to the karadwahan might run into various difficulties, depending on how it has “behaved” during its lifetime if the deceased person was notorious for his/her evil behavior, like the practicing of black magic or the evil eye, that had caused several persons to die, the soul will not be able to cross the Namugluyan river. As the boundary between the material and spiritual, or supernatural world, this river will then be so flooded, th t even the daniw who is guiding the soul, will not be able to Ike the soul cross to the other side. The soul then has to go back to earth, and might join the band of labang, or evil spirits, that are al nays making trouble for human beings.

But if the soul can cross without difficulties, because it has lived as a good Mangyan, faithful to the traditional customs inherited from the forefathers, then it will be met by Daga-Daga, the mythical Mother of all the Mangyans, who will give the soul a collection of perfume-herbs, so that it will be fragrant in its new, permanent home.

This abode of the souls, or karadwahan, is thought to be situated somewhere between heaven and earth. It is a place where souls go who have led a useful life, in interaction with their fellowmen. A new soul will meet there many friends in the former life. This new life will not necessarily be dull, because each one can do the same thing she/he was used to do on earth. There is a place also to make a garden, and cultivated a variety of plants. No one will be getting sick, or experience anything unpleasant. The souls will be there forever, but will have no notion of time. Moreover, they will keep “in touch” with those on earth, because they will notice everything that is going on among their relatives. They will know how they are behaving, and whether they are fulfilling their obligations towards the souls of the dead.

The souls can be displeased by misbehavior of their relatives on earth, and be “angry” with them for certain misdeeds; such as when a child is being punished too severely, or when food is being denied to a child, or when there is intense quarreling be-tween relatives, husband and wife, or when relatives are being neglected, e.g. are not given a share of the communal food, nor visited at their homes, or are even forgotten at all. In these cases, the souls will vent their anger by punishing their relatives. This punitive action of the souls is called sagbat, which will be manifested by a sickness that can’t be healed in a normal way, but will need a pandaniwan or shaman. Of course, the shaman will find out very soon that the sickness is caused by a sagbat of the souls, and he/she will also mention the reason why. He/she will then suggest appropriate action to appease the souls, so that the patient will recover.

Considering all these, the relationship between those on earth and the souls of the deceased, could hardly be considered a cordial one, but more a strained relation, mainly based on a constant fear of offending the souls of the forebears. Nevertheless, the Mangyans accept this as part of their lives, that also knows the happy moments they are enjoying, within the  e , of their tradition. Anyhow, once the soul has be. en delivered” by the daniw to its final destination, to the satisfaction as well of the earthly relatives, the shaman can take his/her leave and consider his/her task successfully concluded.

Animals, trees, plants and the Mangyan dwelling are said to have a soul as well. As to the dog, the cat, chickens, etc., it is not clear from the different opinions, whether these animals eventually join the soul of their amo, or master, in the afterlife. Some expert shamans, or pandaniwans, are said to have seen the souls of dogs at the karadwahan of people.. Trees and plants have their individual souls as well, and their  are not thought to join the human being any longer after death, even if some are important as the preferred abode of certain only the the house of a its, like the balete (Ficus s. Morac.), the bubog (Sterculia foetida L.  Sterc.), etc. Of all the inanimate objects, Mangyan is mentioned as having a soul. A i ob-served by the shamans. Even the soul of a house that at present is no longer existing, can still be seen by a shaman in trance, at exactly the same spot where this former house was built. Stones, soils, water sources, rivers, etc. do not have souls, but these inanimate objects can be important to the Mangyaris when they are chosen as a “residence” of certain spirits, as will be explained later on.

Good Spirits

There are invisible spirits that are basically beneficent to humans and their surrounding environment, but they can be exploited as well for a bad purpose, or revert to doing harm. Some are “managed” by a human being, the shaman, who has the power to control and operate these spirits, and direct them to be active. The spirit will be fully obedient to the commands of the control-ling shaman. This type of good spirit is referred to as a “spirit-familiar.” Other spirits work on their own, e.g. as owners of a water-source, or a certain expertise, but can be approached by human beings asking for their intercession with regards to the field of their expertise. These are called “spirit-possessors.”

Both kinds need offerings to be presented by humans, and they reside in a stone or stones,6 which have to be sprinkled with blood from the offering to chicken), in the course of a prescribed ritual, during which all participants have to show their respect in strictly adhering to the rules of the ritual. Neglecting or omitting periodic offerings, will result in the weakening and poor performance of the spirit, and failure of the requested benefits of healing, warding off evil, etc.

The Mangyan poet puts it this way:

Magkunkuno ti panagdahan            Quoth the spirit of the spring:
Kan apwan itinungpang                 “What has been your offering?
Sigin bungga uyunan                     Softly cooked rice there was none
Sigin igiw raupan                          not a chicken even one!
Guyabod wadi kaywan                 Only some fruits from a tree!
Anitay ngap pinmadngan             What else could the answer be
Sirig ngap sinmaray-an                but rains and a hurricane
Yami day-an panlingban                 hitting house and yard again.
Abiton lugod ginan                     What are you going to do?
Buhawaon aw sangdan                 Incantation might help you
Landuyon aw subungan                 or a seer and his wit!
Saghuman di aw kunman             Maybe he can solve you case
Hanggan sa manundugan             and prevent further disgrace.”

  Spirit-Familiars

“Spirit-familiars” are spirits that are controlled by a shaman, and are known among the Mangyans by the following five different versions, in order of power and importance, and each with its own capabilities and characteristics:

1. the daniw controlled by a pandapiwan;
2. the pamara guided by a pamaraan;
The daniw also occurs without the stone, residing then in the palagayan, a small china plate with various herbs and other paraphernalia of the pandaniwan, that is part of the daniw ritual.
3. the tihol handled by panihulan;
4. the panguli operated by a pangulian;
5. the pamusik where a pamusikan is in charge.

These “spirit-familiars,” each managed by a knowledgeable and responsible person, male or female functioning as a shaman, are mainly used for the individual’ needs of a Mangyan. How-ever, they should only be consulted, when all normal means have been exhausted, or all regular herbal medicines have failed, like with a serious sickness. Each one of these spirits, has a specific task and competence, for which this particular spirit is especially suited. The shaman of these spirit-familiars, when in trance, can perceive, by means of his spirit, which labang causes the trouble, how strong it is, etc. A spirit-familiar can be obtained by transfer or transmission from another Mangyan who might feel too old, or too sick, to keep up with the obligations involved in maintaining a spirit-familiar. Usually the new shaman is a relative of the old or ie,but that need not be. The neophyte shaman will have to go in training by his/her nestor to learn the secrets of the trade.

A person who needs the services of a shaman, will have to see the shaman personally at his house, to request his assistance. To have him/her caned would be disrespectful. The shaman has to be ready at any moment to offer his services for the benefit of the Mangyans. If the shaman has decided to accept the particular case presented to him/her capacity, she/he will receive the string of beads that is being offered as the prescribed condition for acceptance. The shaman has thus committed himself/herself to treat the patient or handle the case, to the best of his/her abilities.

The offering to be brought to each of these “spirit-familiars” individually, represents the very existence of the spirit, without which it would be bereft of its power. The shaman is the one to perform the periodic offering, in accordance with the rules that pertain to each individual and specific ritual. She/He has to see to it that the prescribed offerings are regularly made, so that the spirit will always be “in condition.” However, there is no need, that the offering ritual be performed, everytime a patient is being treated or a case is accepted.

During the treatment of a patient, or handling of a case, the shaman should never be disturbed, nor get angry nor be impatient. And his/her language should never be offensive to anyone, not even to the evil spirit she/he is trying to evict. Offensive behavior of the shaman, will negatively affect the successful out-come of the case. Certain spirit-familiars are very sensitive to it.

A shaman among the Mangyans, like the pamaraan or the pandaniwan, should have a strong conviction in the dangin or power of this “spirit-familiar,” and should not easily be deterred from undertaking a healing session, notwithstanding a strong adversary. This is actually what a Mangyan expects from a shaman who is handling a power that comes from the Mahal Makakaako, or God himself.

These “spirit-familiars” work for the good of the Mangyans, as directed by a good shaman, who has to take his task and responsibility seriously. However, in the hands of an unscrupulous and corrupt shaman, the power of this same spirit can be abused to cause severe harm to those supposed to be helped. But, as an assurance it can be said, that this reversion to evil is extremely rare, and the majority of the shamans among the Mangyans are very conscientious, have great faith in the spirit-familiar they are controlling, and are convinced of the efficacy of the spirit-power, or dangin, they are wielding.

A stone, or stones are collected on account of their attractive shape, color and composition, whether they are found in the soil, in a river, or at a water source, etc. Whether the stone is suitable for spirit possession, will afterwards be revealed in a dream. If there is no confirmation about it, the stone is useless and can be thrown away. But once confirmed of spirit possession the stone is used to serve as the “seat” for the spirit, and it is on this stone that the blood of the sacrifice has to be poured. This is a particular chicken bled for the purpose by nicking slightly the toe-nails to draw blood. Particular characteristics and differences of each of the five spirit-familiars are the following:

   Daniw

The daniw is the most powerful and versatile of the spirit-familiars, and can be employed for a variety of needs. To mention a few: healing of the sick in serious cases; to drive away a labang (evil spirit) that is harmful to a sick person; to appease natural. elements, like storm, drought, flood, epidemic, etc.; to perform the complicated death-ritual, and ensure the well-being of the soul in the afterlife; to clear a certain forested area for agricultural use to the Mangyans as to placate the souls of the deceased. The pandaniwan, or shaman of a daniw, is a Mangyan who usually is a herbal doctor as well, who will use all the means at his/her disposal to heal the patient entrusted to him/her, or solve the problem that has been presented. A pandaniwan can only contact his/ her daniw by means of a certain ritual formula, the panangbayon, that commands a large collection of separate prayers for each particular case. This extensive formulary has to be learned by heart by the shaman, and made available to be optimally effective. In simple cases there is no need for involving the daniw in the treatment of the sick, because the herbal medicines will do. But in difficult cases, it might even be that one daniw will need another shaman to help him/her to fight a particularly stubborn labang that threatens the very existence of a patient. One pandaniwan might use another spirit-familiar, e.g. a pamara at the same time, although each additional spirit-familiar has to be controlled and managed separately, since each one acts through its own power a r.d characteristics.

 Pamara

A pamara is applied by a pamaraan to dislodge a foreign object that has been implanted under the skin by an evil spirit, anywhere in the human body. The object is called ungon, and can mean a thorn or the barb of an arrow inserted in the body, but in general it refers to a hurting painful area or spot of the body, inflicted by the labang or evil spirit.

    In the hands of a good pamaraan, or healer with the pamara, this “sickness” can successfully be treated when a special stone is employed that is round and nicely shaped, and is called bugso or mutya. It is used in a stroking fashion over the painful spot, like when massaging. The pamara-spirit that resides in the stone, comes originally from a certain tree, water source, or even from the sea.

     When blood is poured over the stone, the shaman might say the following prayer: “Spirit of the pamara, when I use you for the sick, do heal the patient. Remove the obstacles that the evil spirit (labang) has planted in the ailing body. May this be the result of the healing power of the pamara entrusted to me.”

Once the blood offering has been performed, there should be no more talk or any noise among the observers. The shaman, or pamaraan, will rub some blood of the chicken on his hand palms, footsoles, and shoulders, to make sure he will not be getting tired during the seance. During the treatment, the pamaraan or shaman, will remove from the body of the patient all the harmful objects placed there by the labang, and if there are wounds caused by this evil spirit (to be seen only by the shaman in his trance), then he will apply the proper medicine, that the pamara-spirit has been supplying. The pamaraan can observe in his dream what kind of labang (evil spirit), or sagbat (annoyance) of the souls of the dis-eased is causing the sickness. The shaman will use his kusol as charm (Kaempferia Galanga L. Zing.), a mixture of medicinal herbs and ginger.

The pamara-application can be performed at any time of the day or the night, and this spirit can “team up” with other spirits like the tihol and the pamusik. The rice and the chicken will be prepared as food for the shaman, and while he eats first, after the customary food offering, all persons present have to be quiet, and should remain seated, out of respect for the pamara treatment. Later, the observers will eat from the food prepared for them. The treatment of a patient with the pamara, can be reinforced by herbal medicines in their various application of poultice, rubbing in, drinking, etc. A normal sickness cannot be treated by the pamara application. A regular and expert Mangyan acquainted with herbal medicines is needed in this case.

Tihol

A tihol is like a human friend. It will be faithful to you, and do what you order it to do. With human eyes it cannot be seen, but  its voice can be heard by anyone who is present. You can call it anytime during the night. It is a small person, of one handspan, or about 23 cm. in size. The tihol is called to retrieve anything that has been lost. It will know the whereabouts of a person that went away, and didn’t return; a fishingboat that drifted away or whether somebody is arriving. It can be told to check whether there is a labang around the house. It will know when a typhoon is coming, a severe storm, or anything serious in nature, in life or in the field.

Monthly offerings have to be performed after the new moon, and blood of a chicken should be sprinkled on the tihol-stone. That the tihol can only be heard but not be seen, is due to its power of the tagadlom, or charm of invisibility. It can even lend this power to its caretaker, or tihulan, so that this person can be at a certain place without being seen by others. The one who takes c re of a tihol, can be assured that he and his family will be Pro-t Jed in times of war, and when there are fights. Moreover, it can b e helpful in locating an important magic charm for further protection. A tihol is a very versatile spirit-familiar, with many powerful ways and means, and as of today, there are still many Mangyans who “own” a tihol, and make use of it.

   Panguli

This spirit is said to originate either from a tree, a watersource or the sea. It is similar to the pamara, with this difference that the stone, considered to be the seat of the spirit, should be red-colored. This is symbolic to the task of the panguli-spirit, namely: to return the blood that was taken out by the labang from the body of e patient. It has to be restored to the wound of the person concerned to make him recover. The wound of a patient is caused the (invisible) spear of a labang, and the blood is brought back inside the wound by the shaman through the panguli, carrying it in his cupped hands. This process has to be repeated over and over again. The shaman of a panguli when in trance, can “see” the evil spirit or labang, that caused the trouble, and acts accordingly.

 Pamusik

The pamusik resides in a bugso or black stone, or stones (up to four), similar to the ones used by the pamara and tihol. The blood libation on the stone(s) at the periodic ritual, is sometimes done towards the full moon, and the next time again at the following; full moon. The toes of a chicken are pricked to draw blood, or if it has been used already before, it might be slaughtered altogether. The offering takes place with appropriate prayers. The spirit-familiar is called pamusik because the shaman, when humming him/herself into a trance, tightly closes his/her eyes (pusik), she/ he then can “see”, in his/her “dream” which labang is causing the trouble, and where it is residing. The method to scare away the labang is similar to that of the daniw, tihol or tawo-pungso performances, namely: by sweeping the labang away with a brush made of bamboo or of bagakay (Schizostachyum sp. Gram.). The pamusik can team up with the daniw, pamara, and other spirits during a nightly session. During the day it would not be possible for the daniw.

Spirit-Possessors

The spirit-possessors are good spirits that act on their own, and are not controlled by a shaman. However, they too are in need of periodic offerings, and these have to be provided by human beings. Usually a Mangyan; who lives close to the locality where the offerings are taking place, will take it upon him to organize the ritual, and notify the people around, of the occasion of the offering. Each one will then contribute. There is a good number of spirit-possessors, and the ritual for them is generally the same. But their tasks are different, as well as their modus operandi. However, some general rules, similar to the ones applying to the Spirit-Familiars, are applicable as well to the Spirit-Possessors, such as:

1) Offerings have to be brought at regular intervals to avoid the weak and negative performance of the Spirit-Possessors.

2) The rituals have to be conducted in a sphere of solemnity, with due respect by the attending participants, and noise of any kind should be avoided.

3) Some powerful Spirit-Familiars, like the daniw and the tihol, can have insight in the procedure, and add their spirit-power if needed.

The most common of the spirit-possessors, and the ones mostly requested are the following:

 Pagawa

The pagawa is actually a company of spirits who are working together in solving problems that concern the human being: his fields, plantations or animals that might be threatened. These spirits cannot be separated, but still have their particular characteristics and methodology.

Their task (sakob) is five-fold:

1) To protect the shaman and his family against sickness.

2) To watch over the rice in the field, to see to it that ritual prayers are said, to protect it against pests, etc.

3) To be on guard against labang or persons with “black magic” or hiri, so that they will not come near.

4) To protect against all enemies of the human beings.

5) To watch over the house-chickens, that they will not be eaten by the kumaraon or “eaters.”

The foremost leaders are the pagawa-pudpud and their counter-parts, the pagawa-sungat. They originate from the sea. Offerings brought to them are a pair of chickens (male/female), together with very fine rice (sasa).

The following are the companions of the pagawa pudpod and pagawa-sungat: anito, baw-as, bululakawnon, idalmunon, kuramnag, makaskong and malingkod. They live together in a small hut, consisting of a board of wood from the dita-tree, supported by balm boo posts, tied together with inwag-vines. This “house” of the pagawa should not be burned down.

It is of historical interest to note, that in 1634 the Jesuits in their yearly report to the SJ Father General in Rome, make mention of the pagawa as Mangyan (from the Naujan Lake area) ritual, taking place in a small hut, and how the missionaries told the Mangyans to burn down these places of superstition.

In case the pagawa ritual has been neglected, it is difficult to revive it, because many things are needed for it: vines, different kinds of wood, young coconut leaves, rice, chickens, cogon, etc. However, this type of ritual is rarely performed nowadays.

Panudlak

This ritual is held before the sowing of the, rice seeds. If it is neglected, or done without the proper food offerings (rice/chicken)• sagbat will take place, i.e. the souls of the deceased will feel of-fended. The result will be a bad harvest, or an epidemic, etc.

The offerings are placed on top of a pungso or termite-hill,. or on the ground above it, where a little ricefield is prepared, which will then be planted with the first rice-seeds, before the actual pamagas (communal rice planting) will take place. This ritual is usually still observed even today, because of its importance for rice cultivation.

The panudlak has similarities with the pagawa and idalmunon, in that it also watches against any harm to the rice on the field, the health of the people and the domesticated animals of the shaman and his family. Still, each saragdahanon or ritual, has its own characteristics and working method.

Generally, no traditional rice-planting will take place in a certain locality, if a panudlak-ritual has not yet been performed by one or the other farming in that area.

Sapol

It is a ritual to ensure success in hunting, especially in catching game with traps, whether in the sea, the rivers or in the forests. his old tradition, according to the Mangyans, might have been listing already before the Chinese or the Spanish came to the Philippines. As with other rituals, the daniw can have insight in the workings of the sapol, and know the tools that are being used, like the bow-and-arrow. This ritual too is mentioned in the old (- 634) Jesuit records, as being practiced by the Mangyans when they want to be successful at their hunting activities.

 Panuldok

This is a ritual against rains, thunderstorms, excessive heat, earthquakes, etc. Its spirit is thought to be residing in a stone, or bugso. The blood is dripped at the base of a house support (sulay), a that is joined by the sambong, a sturdy, sharpened piece of iron rod, symbolizing the strength that the house is expected to acquire al after the ritual. The kusol (Kaempferia galanga L. Zing.) is used together with it.

In order of importance, the panuldok comes after the tihol. Since the panuldok is a ritual against typhoons, it will be capable to calm down a strong typhoon and rains, and is like a pacifier, requesting the apo-bagyo, or owner of the typhoon, to stop its destructive force of storm and rains.

When there is a strong typhoon, the panuldok can be assisted b:, the daniw, to observe together the “Forces of Heaven and Earth.” However, each does it in its own way. The same goes for control-ling excessive heat, when the apo-daga, the owner of the earth is r€ quested to stop its unbearable heat.

Panagdahan Sa Danom

Panagdahan sa danom is a ritual concerning the watersources, river-springs, etc., and follows in importance after the pagawa. It is the one taking care of animals, that they won’t get sick; furthermore it is in charge of the rice (on the field), that it will grow healthily, that no damage will be done to the plants by whatever agency, that the harvest will be bountiful. As to the locality where the ritual should take place, when it concerns a ritual at a river, it should be one that will not run dry, even at summertime. More-over, it should be performed at a spot where there is a big pool of water, and not at a place where the current is strong.

If it concerns a spirit in the sea, it can be done at the beach. For the spirit of a watersource, it should be done at the same place. For a deep well, the ritual has to be held nearby.

In former times, a Mangyan in charge of the ritual of the water, or panagdahan sa danom, at the hour of offering, would he very polite in his language, whether to the Spirit or to his companions. This was done in order not to betray any information of his ritual tools and knowledge to evil forces.

The ritual is performed after the rice harvest, at the time of preparing the new ricefields, from the time of the gamason, or cleaning, till the moment before the sowing of the rice seeds, or pamgasan, or from November till May. At the offering, one red cock is needed. This will be sufficient even if many people will attend. At the arrival of those who like to attend the ritual, each family will voluntarily bring their share along of the offering, which can be a chicken, and a portion of rice. This individual share is called tugyong, their part of the offering to the Spirit of the Water. It is believed that those who have contributed to the panagdahan sa danom ritual will have an abundant harvest to come. At the moment of the ritual offering, with many people together, it is not permitted to bring any kind of musical instruments. Nor should there be any yodeling yells (uwi), or playing around in whatever way. At the well itself, no one should be playing with the water.

As to the type of clothes and decoration one has to wear, no piece of commercial cloth should be used, nor slippers, a hat, or upper dress that would not be made and embroidered in the traditional Mangyan way. Furthermore, the G-string should be worn, not a pair of long or short pants. The women should wear a Mangyan ramit (skirt), and carry the traditional burl-bag, with nito-vine decorations. Those of the men who had cut off their traditional long hair, should not attend the water-ritual. If these regulations are not observed, a typhoon might occur, or a period of drought, or the rice harvest would be poor, or there would be plenty of sickness among the people. That’s why, those in charge of the ritual, and those in attendance, have to behave in a respectful way all the time, and really believe in the dangin or power of the spirit of the water

At the moment of the offering or sagda, a prayer should be said by the caretaker or shaman, like:

“You, Spirit of the water, come near now, because we have prepared an offering. Please, eat of the rice and the meat that we place before you.

Take care of the animals and our chickens, that they will not be eaten by the evil eater, or kumaraon. Watch over our rice plants as well, and don’t permit the rats, the sparrows, the insects, or any other pests to destroy our rice, but that we may have a bountiful harvest.

Do not permit any kind of evil to come near, and protect us against any sickness or other problems. Let us not visited by bad weather, typhoons, long droughts or sun eclipses, as well as famine. Keep our bodies from getting tired of the many tasks we have to do.

Protect us also against the evil spirit or labang, and against persons that practice sorcery, or panhiri.”

These words will be repeated several times.

When the prayer contains the petition: “When we go to the forests, make us find plenty of honey from the various kinds of bees,” this point will be clearly illustrated by the people who at-tend the ritual. They will have made a mock beehive from the leaves of the sugarpalm or iyok, suspending it at a low, overhanging branch of a tree standing near the watersource where the spirit d wells. It will be clear to all, how big a beehive the Mangyans are hoping to encounter in their search for honey.

After the ritual offering, the people attending can start eating as well. It will have to be done in a subdued and quiet mood, with as little noise as possible. This is in great contrast with the communal work activities called saknong that are usually lively affairs. At the ritual gathering no one is in a hurry to eat as fast and as much as possible, but each takes his time to get satisfied.

After the meal, the people go home quietly. If a lot of food is still left over, it can be brought home by the people, but not to be carried inside the house. This sacrificial food has to be consumed outside the living space of the house, e.g. on the platform or pantaw, in front of the house. Those inside the house who want to eat from the food, have to come outside to do so.

Those who were in charge of the ritual have to stay at home for five more days, and cannot do their regular work in the field, fetch water, or get firewood, etc. The unavoidable necessities of the body are the only exception for going away from the house for some distance. This rather strict regulation is called kalhian. When the five days and nights are complete, life can go on again as usual. This lihi, prohibition, is an expression of respect for the ritual performance that took place.

The majority of the Mangyans still believe in this ritual, and. when the harvest is good, etc., they will ascribe it to the ritual that was held to the satisfaction of the spirit(s). Therefore, this panagdahan sa dahom ritual will be repeated annually.

Evil Spirits (Mga Labang)

The Mangyan philosophy on the origin of evil is not worked out very well. There is a complicated folktale existing, that relates how on a certain day in the past, a long object descended from the sky, looking like a long intestine of a karabaw. Upon advice of the village Elders, it was collected in a big container, with the admonition to stay away from it, and not to touch or to puncture it.

But as with the box of Pandora, there was some foolish person who considers it his duty to puncture the object with his bolo.

And out came all the biting, stinging and troublesome insects we have today. And they spread over the world, carrying with them all kinds of diseases that mankind is suffering from. They were the first labang the Mangyans had to deal with.

Since that time, the labang is the general concept of evil in action, as it is experienced in its negative and bad effect on human beings. The labangs are growing in number, and the increase is said to come from the disenchanted souls of the deceased who were refused admission to the abode of the souls, the karadwahan, because of their evil past. They returned to earth and were invited by,the labang to join them.

The Iabang has many names, and occurs in many shapes and shades, depending on the type of sickness it causes, and the way it is thought to be done. The labang can only be seen by the shaman that controls a spirit-familiar. She/He can perceive the type of labang that is being dealt with, e.g. if it appears like a chicken, the sh man will conclude that it is, a labang-manok, that is troubling a sick person. Headache is associated with that type, so the ritual formulary, or prayers, of the shaman will be focused on that particular kind of labang.

A good pandaniwan, who controls a daniw, is usually able to dislodge a labang that is causing a soul to leave the body of its “master,” out of fear of the labang. This separation of the soul causes the person to get sick. So the task of the shaman is, to remove the labang that stays in the vicinity of the patient, to allow th soul to be reunited with the body, and thus bring recovery to its “master.” The labang can be called an evil spirit by nature since it v41/as always like that, even if new recruits are made from among criminal souls rejected from the karadwahan.

An evil spirit by accident would be a spirit-familiar, like a daniw or pamara, that unexpectedly starts doing evil, instead of good, a thing we usually expect from spirit-familiars, because they are the goodwill messengers of the Mahal Makaka-ako.

If a good spirit is suddenly behaving in a bad way, it has been or ordered to do so by the shaman in charge for some evil purpose of his ‘her own doing. The spirit-familiar can be blamed, because it is only acting as it is told to do, without judging the morality of a certain case. The daniw, or pamara, etc. have no volition, or personal will. Thus is their nature.

The “criminal” in a case like that is the shaman, who has betrayed his profession to do good, and has become a panhirian, or sorcerer of black magic, out of extreme envy or jealousy towards the person that he ordered attacked by the spirit-familiar. The spirit is now turned into a panhiri-spirit, that retains its redoubt-able power, and is now being applied to do evil, instead of good. Only a very good pandaniwan, possibly to be joined by other good shamans, can counteract such a formidable opponent, that is equipped with the spirit-power of a corrupted daniw or pamara-spirit.

Generally speaking, however, the good Familiar-Spirits, handled by the usually good shaman, will always be more powerful that the labang of any kind or caliber, or the dreadful evil caused by a panhirian-shaman, with his/her perverted panhiria spirit. The reason for this superiority of the Good Spirits, as explained by the Mangyans, is due to the fact that the Spirit-Familiars are sent by the Mahal Makaka-ako as messengers of goodness, to defeat the evil that is troubling this world.

 Earth People and Charms

To this category of the invisible world belong certain immaterial entities and powers, often vaguely defined by the Mangyans, but comparably belonging to the realm of fairies (e.g. duwende) and their magic world. For reasons of restricting this paper from growing too long; I will limit myself to one representative sample of the tawo basad daga, or Earth People.

 Putpot

It is an adult person of small size, like a child of eight to ten years of age. Generally dark-complexioned, there are also some who are more fair in skin color. But all have dark hair like the Mangyans. They usually dwell in the balete-tree, or steep rocks or in termite-hills (pungso). If it befriends you, it can be of great help, but if it doesn’t like you, it can be very troublesome, although by nature it is beneficial to mankind. A putpot might have a stone-charm like the one used with a pamara, and that makes it quite powerful. All of them have the tagadlom-charm that makes them invisible to humans, and they carry cotton in their hands to make their bodies nimble and light. They are dressed like Mangyans, but are around only when it is dark. You don’t have to be afraid of them, because they don’t team up pamara, tihol or pamusik familiar-spirits. Still, the putpot do not belong to that category. It is nice to have a put pot as a friend, and if one shows itself to you, ask it for a favor, and it will be granted. But if it is not your luck they won’t show themselves to you. However, several Mangyans who have a putpot as a friend, said that it showed itself to them, and is very helpful when someone is in need, or is sick.

Charms

Charms, or hapin-hapin, among the Mangyans can be encountered in every phase and aspect of their lives. Charms are considered as a protection for body (and soul) in certain circumstances of life. Charms can consist of certain stones, mineral extractions, exotic objects, a mixture of certain plant parts (including the roots), and secret incantations.

Most of these, or their way of preparation, are inherited from the forefathers, but others were acquired after instructions received in a dream, or through advice of the tihol spirit-familiar. Anyhow, the Mangyans believe that charms are a gift to mankind from the Mahal Makaka-ako, as an additional means of protection against seen and/or unseen adversaries. On the other hand, they can be used for a bad purpose as well, like with the spirit-familiar. It all depends on the mentality of the one handling or applying the charm.

Among the Mangyans there are great number of charms, all with different names, made of different (mainly vegetable) sub-stances, and with different applications and effectiveness.

Just to mention a few of the best known:

   Lumay and Gayuma

This is a love-charm, said to be irresistible to whom it is applied. It consists of the roots of certain trees and plants, that preferably should be collected on a Good Friday. That time is also the right moment for testing its potency. Another type of lumay is a stone that was found inside a banana, and a twin of the langka, or jackfruit, is also effective as love-charm.

The charm is placed near where the girl, the object of the lumay, usually passes, and soon she will feel attracted to a certain boy. The charm is also mixed with tobacco, then made into a cigarette, and when puffing, the smoke is directed to the girl, with the same effect. Mangyans on a trip to the interior of Mindoro, will always try to obtain strong love-charms from other tribesmen, in order to try them out when they are back home again. Mangyans believe strongly in the potency of a guaranteed lumay.

 Panuli or Sinamak

It is a strong charm against the labang, and consequently, against any serious sickness. Its composition is a mixture of parts of tall trees; and weeds, put into a little bottle, with coconut oil added. The oil should come from a single coconut out of a cluster that is facing east. Every Good Friday the oil should be changed so that the charm will retain its potency.

It can be placed above the door, and for sure, the labang will not enter. It can be burned, and the smoke, or smell, will drive the labang away. And it can be rubbed on the body as a repellent. It is also used against dizziness, by placing the charm in a coconut shell on live embers, and the vapors are trapped in a blanket which is wrapped around a patient. It is further used for stopping the bleeding of a wound, which afterwards will heal very quickly. If this charm is smoked, it is a medicine against skin-disease.

 Tagadlom

At a last example, the tagadlom is a charm that can make a person invisible to others. The main ingredient of its substance, is something that is very rarely seen or found. For example, a stone found in the heart of a banana-tree of the talindig-variety. If found, it should be wrapped in a black cloth, and it should be worn is a hagkos-belt, then one is invisible to others. Of course, the bone of a black cat would have the same result, as well as the stone found in a quail’s egg, and carried in the mouth. If these methods wouldn’t work, you can always ask the putpot for a tagadlom when it shows itself to you. That the tagadlom is the favorite charm with thieves, and their likes, doesn’t need mention!

Concluding Remarks

Such is the visible and invisible world of an Hanunoo-Mangyan of Southern Mindoro. A world full of variation and excitement (maybe a bit too much!), that will prevent life to be dull, because there is always something to think about.

That the Mangyan of the past could cope with all its complications, is surprising enough, whereas on the other side, it doesn’t come as a surprise, when the modern-day Mangyan youth is not very much attracted to many aspects of this dual world, especially its invisible part. The challenges of the pre-20th century keep them busy enough to think about this aspect of their native culture.

The PMEs and the Tribal Filipinos

In declaring his Mission Perspectives in Mindanao Archbishop Antonio Ll. Mabutas took note of the particular character of the inhabitants of Mindanao and Davao; a majority of Christian immigrants and a native minority of Muslims and non-Muslims J He was quick to perceive that many of Davao’s economic and political problems were directly related to the human texture of the social environment. The so-called “melting pot” effect of the in-migration to Davao had not been very adequate. The post-colonial society assimilated only the migrant groups: the Visayans, llocanos, Tagalogs, etc. Set against more pronounced differences from the indigenous peoples of Davao the former seemed more successful in obliterating ethnic lines. The same could not be said however, of the latter who have retained most of their ethnic characteristics and identities, perhaps with more tenacity than before.

It seems as though the native non-Muslim peoples have been left out of the evangelization efforts, a charge which is easily refuted by the PME whose primary objective in coming to Davao was initial evangelization, i.e. the conversion of non-Christian tribal peoples.

The missionary effort of the Church has always been… to push back local frontiers and to penetrate ever deeper in the most remote areas of the world. In a very real sense Mission knows no boundaries and is a stranger to no people or culture. In this sense, the PME Fathers were not the first, nor the only missionaries to work among Tribal Filipinos in Davao . . . for the PME Fathers whose Project of Life states that ‘For us to live is to evangelize’, this effort of reaching out to all people, wherever they might live has always been a constant and enduring preoccupation.

Since their arrival in Davao in 1937, the PME missionaries have been striving to work not only in cities and among the Christian population but also in mountains and hinterlands among the widely dispersed cultural communities. As the least Christianized and westernized Filipinos, the Tribal Filipinos have been able to preserve many of their cultural traits: communal values on land, cooperative work exchange, the barter system, belief system, etc. Today, however, the forces of market economy and centralized government have slowly caught up with their traditional values and cultural traits.Lowlanders, settlers, and plain adventurers often supported by national laws, have occupied their communal lands, so have big corporations and government infrastructure projects. All have come in the name of progress, wisdom or civilization. The most immediate and obvious result, however, has been the erosion of their self-sufficiency and tribal identity, making ever wider room for a new dependence on modem ways and approaches.

Moreover, the tribal Filipinos living in the hinterlands, mountain slopes or peaks have all too often become victims of unwanted guests;rebels and members of military and paramilitary operations. They have been forced to regroup in artificial hamlets and pay all kinds of illegal taxation. These economic, political, and ideological assaults have left many Tribal Filipino groups helpless. Often they would sell their land to newcomers, or leave them in the face of a more acute adversity such as a military operation. Since their indigenous cultures are closely-bound with their communal lands, the loss of their lands means the loss of their cultural roots and identity. Ultimately, this would also deprived them of dignity as a full-fledged partner in Filipino nation-building.

The PME Fathers Among The Tribal Filipinos

Because of the ethnic composition of the region, it can be said that all the PME Fathers of Davao, have at one time or another come in contact and worked with Tribal Filipinos. The Mandayas of the old Christian town of Caraga, were the first native group to make the acquaintance of the PMEs. Boa, a small Mandayan settlement in the mountains of Caraga was the first to receive the visit of a PME priest:Fr. Yvon Guerin. He befriended the Mandayas and in due time recruited young people for the parochial school. During summer vacations, these Mandaya students would return home to share what they had learned with the community. Fr. Guerin’s students eventually became his first Mandaya converts.

In 1938, the RVM Sisters who were running the school in Caraga opened a dormitory for Mandaya girls. After the war in 1948, a dormitory for boys was also opened. By 1951, the dormitory had 70 Mandaya boys. Boa became the first barrio to form a Mandaya Christian community. The first Mandaya family to entrust its children to the care of the church was Tikilid whose son, Enrique Mariano was baptized in 1946. A sister, Badian, followed his example and was likewise baptized. In the course of his long association with PME Fathers, Tikilid became a good friend and eventually consented to be baptized himself. In 1951, he was chosen as the main actor for a PME production meant for Mission Education and Animation, in Canada.

In Cateel, Fr. Paul Guilbault prepared catechists to teach religion in the different schools of the parish. Through this program many Mandaya school children were catechised and baptized. Fr.Guilbault visited many Mandaya communities where he organized catechetics and celebrated the sacraments of baptism and the Holy Mass. In Lupon, Fr. Germain Pelletier, just expelled from Mainland China, worked in a special way among the Mandayas. His work also centered around Catechetics and the Sacraments.

Sometime in 1959, about forty Atas from Calinan came to visit the parish priest, Fr. Rolland Hebert and requested a catechist. Fr.Hebert sent Felipe Ranilo, a former student of Holy Cross of Calinan.Today, there are many Ata Christian communities in the Calinan area owing to his efforts. The present pastors of the Atas are the diocesan priests of the Archdiocese of Davao.

All too often, working in vast and remote places, undermanned and overworked, the missionaries never really had the time to adjust,and adapt their approaches or pastoral programs to the human and spiritual needs of the tribal peoples. While serving the cultural communities the PME Fathers used Cebuano in conversations and Latin in the liturgy as they would among the Christians of the lowland areas. Thus, it can be said that before the seventies, there was little or no attempt to focus the main effort on the inculturation of the Gospel to suit the particular needs of Tribal Filipinos. The merit of the missionaries lies in their interest and genuine concern for the latter, respecting their dignity and considering them fully worthy of the same pastoral care as the lowland Christians, the PME missionaries have always looked upon the Tribal Filipinos as an integral part of the flock.

In 1973, during a General Chapter, the PME Society revised its pastoral priorities and decided to give a new impetus as well as importance to initial evangelization, ie. the first proclamation of the Gospel message. Two years earlier, Fr. Pierre Samson was assigned to Caburan, Jose Abad Santos, Davao del Sur. He soon became aware that the vast majority of the population in the area was Manobo. Ashe began to pay visits to the Manobos, Fr. Samson exerted efforts to learn their native tongue. As he learned the Manobo language, the world of the Manobo opened up to him and Fr. Samson penetrated their cultural universe: language, cosmology, history and belief system. Fr. Samson carefully took notes of this cultural odyssey.Unfortunately, all these precious notes were lost when his convento burned down in 1974. Far from being discouraged, Fr. Samson started his work all over again visiting Manobo families and studying their culture. As he gained familiarity with various communities,he began to propose Evangelization Seminars to some of them. With his knowledge of Manobo language and culture Fr. Samson integrated certain aspects of Manobo culture in the seminar. To his immense satisfaction, the Manobos responded with great interest. Meybio, the first Manobo Christian community, was born in 1974amidst the growing political tension and rebel presence in the area.

Fr. Samson’s work among the Manobos included the production of books for the weekly Celebration of the Word, translation of Bible texts and composing liturgical songs. He inserted certain native symbols in the Ritual of Baptism and adapted some Manobo rites in the Liturgy of Marriage. In his work, Fr. Samson was greatly helped by Carl Dubois of the Summer Institute of Linguistics.Dubois published a Manobo Grammar in 1976 and the New Testament in Manobo in 1982.

Fr. Samson also made contacts with the B’laans (Bilaan) of Don Marcelino and Malita and lived in a small B’laan community in Little Baguio, a barrio of Malita. He stayed with the B’laans for three months during which he studied and learned the B’laan language. As with the Manobos, Fr. Samson organized Evangelization Seminars for the B’laan. In 1977, the first B’laan Christian community was bom in Little Baguio, up in the mountains of Malita. There Fr. Samson also translated Bible texts, prepared booklets for songs and worship in B’laan tongue and composed a special blessing for seeds and planting rites. Today there are six B’laan Christian communities in the Malita-Don Marcelino area.

When the Tribal Filipino Apostolate in Caburan was turned over to the Diocesan Clergy of Digos in 1983, Fr. Santos Villahermosa took over the work began by Fr. Samson in Jose Abad Santos. Fr.Samson remained among the Manobos and B’laans of Don Marcelino and Malita and continued his work until June 1985 when his apostolate abruptly came to an end due to his election as the Superior General of the PME Society.

Another of the PME Fathers to work among the Tribal Filipinos Mission is Fr. Gilles Belanger who arrived in Malita in 1977. Fr.Belanger was assigned to work among the Tagakaulo. Fr. Belanger spent four month in Sangay, a barangay of Malita, living with a family of Tagakaulos where he learned the language. Hewing closely to the evangelical trail set by Fr. Samson, he visited many native Tagakaulo communities, preparing liturgical and catechetical texts,composing songs, and translated the Synoptics along with the Rituals of Baptism and Marriage where a few cultural adaptations were introduced. In 1979, Macul became the first Tagakaulo settlement with a small Christian community. Today, there are twenty-two Tagakaulo Christian communities in Malita.

In an interview with Fr. Belanger held in Malita, he spoke of his work:
A reflection on the main purpose of our work as missionaries mademe take up work with Tribal groups. I saw myself as being able to work in the mountains. I strove to learn die language as soon as I came in 1977. At Sangay where 1 studied the Tagakaulo tongue my knowledge of Visayan helped a great deal in learning to speak the Tagakaulo language. I did a lot of listening. Everybody wanted to teach me. Later on they seemed to have become bored. I discovered that they respond easily when you talk to them about their own culture.

Our point of entry is to build a chapel for their fiesta. Then we give seminars where we compare some of their cultural values with Christian values such as creation, concept of women, man’s role in creation,etc. Through animation we talk about who they are, using the Bible as point of reference.

As missionaries we opted for proclamation of the word but tried to adapt it to the culture of these people. We made them understand also that we are interested as well in their material well-being.

Some of their positive values are consistent with Christian ones, for example, hospitality. We regard as negative values the idea that fiesta is seen as a status symbol and their apparent readiness to abandon their native culture. Their sense of community Is evident in practices such as the tabo (weekly market). They also like to come together for other social events.

In 1982, Fr. Pierre Fisette arrived to join Fr. Belanger in the Tagakaulo mission. Fr. Fisette took up residence in Sta. Maria and stayed with a native family in Barangay Kilegbeg in order to learn Tagakaulo. In four months he learned the language and like Fathers Samson and Belanger he travelled extensively in his area going as far as Malegang and Malungon. In the course of his travels and work among the Tagakaulos he was able to compile about 10,000 Tagakaulo words. Fr. Fisette plans to produce a Tagakaulo-Cebuano-English dictionary. In 1986, he transferred to Malita and started to work among the Tagakaulos in the municipality. His former apostolate in Sta. Maria was taken over by Fr. Roberto Lagos, a priest of the diocese of Digos. Now there is a total of 41 small Christian Communities all over the municipalities of Sta. Maria-Malita.

Our ^preach is one of integral evangelization. We see development as a holistic process, including the spiritual as well as the material. The point of entry is often literacy. We work with little groups instead of the whole population. The Tagakaulos place a lot of importance on health and long life; their prayers are invariably concerned with these. We form the Basic Ecclesial Communities (BCC) or the *Gagmayng Kristohanong Katilingban* (GKK) to develop the proper attitudes for self-reliance. Don’t wait for the priest to come in order to go to church. Don t wait for the government to build your .roads (Build them yourselves).’ Our GKK is global in the sense that it is concerned with every aspect of their daily lives. The lituigical aspect is only one.The other aspects are catechetics, health, literacy and agriculture.These five aspects comprise our approach of integral evangelization.These are the five poles around which our communities revolve. Not all our communities possess the five, but many have at least three.

Our goal is helping the Tagakaulos help themselves. We try to wean them away from money and material values. The best means to bring this about is to “bring them the Good News”, which is the message that they can become better human beings by improving what is already in their environment and in themselves. How to announce the “Good News” tied up or within the context of the whole human situation is our challenge. How to link life inside and outside the Church is part of this challenge.

We try to bring about challenge by means of example. When the Church promises something we see to it that the Church’s promise is kept. We think it is very important to build trust and confidence for the Church as such. When we say we will come to a certain place at this day at this time, we come. If the people are not there, we wait for them. The people come to trust our word. We also try to foster another kind of communal awareness: On social occasions or when we gather the people to build a road we encourage them to share what each one has with the others, so that one eats not only what he has brought himself but tastes and eats of what others have prepared.

We have noted that native beliefs are deeply ingrained among them,and for that matter, even among our own catechists. So we are emphasizing the behavioral as well as the theological aspects of Christianity.Of the sacraments, the hardest to teach is matrimony, that is, its monogamous aspect. The easiest to teach is penance; they have a keen sense of their sinfulness. We appeal to the whole person in the context of his human situation, including the transcendent as well as the personal and social dimension.

Catechetics, Social Action, Evangelization and Team Work

As time and experience showed, Initial Evangelization had to go hand in hand with Catechetics and Social Action Programs. From the very start a special effort was made to recruit catechists, people who would continue the work achieved during the Evangelization Seminars. In 1974, Narcisa Ambong, a newly graduated Manobo professional catechist started working with Fr. Samson. In 1979, Lolita Moto, a non-professional but experienced Tagakaulo catechist, teamed up with Fr. Belanger. In 1980, she was followed by another non-professional Tagakaulo catechist, Corazon Agravante. In 1983,Lucia Cejas, a Cebuano professional catechist, learned the Tagakaulo dialect and started to work with Fr. Fisette.

The tribal Filipino Apostolate of the Diocese of Digos received a big boost in 1980 when the Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Conception (MIC) committed themselves to this type of work. The first Sisters to arrive in Malita were Sister Socorro Carvajal and Siste rEstela del Bando. After four months of exposure and language studies in sitio Kaigtan, Sister Socorro, with diplomas in Education and Catechetics, began to work with Fr. Belanger among the Tagakaulo. Lolita Moto entered the Missionaries of Charity Sisters, Corazon Agravante went into Catechetics. In 1983, Sister Eulalia Loreto,MIC,a professional catechist, after two years of work and pastoral experience among the natives of Miyarayon in Bukidnon, arrived in Malita. After learning Manobo in Caburan, she started working with Fr. Samson.

Today, the Tribal Filipino Teams of the Diocese of Digos are composed of the following. Among the Manobos of Jose Abad Santos: Fr. Santos Villahermosa, DCD, and Miss Norbelita Onari,a Manobo catechist. Among the Manobos and B’laans of Don Marcelino and Malita: Fr. Gilles Belanger, PME, Sister Eulalia Loreto,MIC, and Miss Tita Limbudan, a B’laan professional catechist.Among the Tagakaulo of Malita: Fr. Pierre Fisette, PME, Sister Socorro Carvajal, MIC, and Lucia Cejas. Among the Tagakaulo of Sta.Maria: Fr. Rudy Tulibas, DCD, Elsa Albaracin, a Tagakaulo professional catechist, and Fe Dubuque, a Cebuano professional catechist.

In another part of the Diocese of Digos, other PMEs have recently started work among Tribal Filipinos – namely the B’laan group. In1986, Fr. Gervais Turgeon, in Matanao, started two small communities in Colonsabac and Datal Pitak. This year he added Literacy Programs in these two areas. In Magsaysay, the neighboring municipality, Fr. Donald Bouchard has also started work among the same tribal group. He is planning to give an Evanelization Seminar and thus set up a new community in January 1988.

Even though Evangelization Seminars and Catechetics were first in the Initial Evangelization process, there was always a special preoccupation, a special effort to touch, to uplift the total human condition of the people. Social Action programs, especially literacy and health always accompanied the formation and process of the Small Christian Communities. In January 1985, three Social Action Projects were formally launched. These represented a special and official effort by the Church of the Diocese of Digos to improve the everyday lot of the Tribal Filipinos of the region. These programs are Health, coordinated by Rose dela Cruz and assisted by Linda Garcia,with Edita Flores as professional Midwife; Literacy, with Narcisa Ambong; and Agriculture, with Rosino Talima. Their offices are in Malita but their work extends to all the Tribal Filipinos from the mountains of Sta. Maria to the hinterlands of Jose Abad Santos.

From the start, there was a deep-felt need to prepare the future.Those working among the Tribal people were always looking for companions. People who would be with them to help them. Necessarily, these would be people from within each Tribal group who need to pursue their studies and prepare themselves for the future.For High School students, two main projects have been put up: one in Sta. Maria for the young Tagakaulos, and one in Caburan for the Manobos and B’laans. These young adults study in the parochial High Schools and live on a small farm. They help pay for their education by farming backyard gardens and taking care of domestic animals. With the help of the Presentation o^ Mary Sisters, catechists, and priests, the students meet regularly to deepen their faith, reflect on their culture, and their role as Christian Tribal Filipinos. A system of scholarships has also been initiated for students in college. Today,there are young Manobos, B’laans, and Tagakaulos studying Catechetics. Education, and Midwifery. In 1988, the plan is to send one student to study Social Sciences. The main idea is to prepare a human reservoir of knowledge and talents among the young Tribal Filipinos.These are expected to go back to their respective communities after their studies to teach, guide, and help the others along the difficult road of tribal independence, and national integration, and Gospel values. Some have graduated and are already working, especially in the field of catechetics and literacy.

Perhaps, the best way to get a real understanding of this apostolate with the Tribal Filipinos of Davao del Sur initiated by the PME Fathers and now joined by so many others is to present this poem of Fr. Fisette.

AROUND HARVEST TIME

August. Thursday. Eight in the morning. Still early.
I enter Kilalag. Tagakaulo country.
So near and yet so far.
It rained all night long.
I walked. One hour and thirty minutes.
From Sangay to Kaigtan: how muddyl A real chocolate parfait!
And then, Mahayahay, Kitulali, Swollen rivers.
On my shirt sweat and salt have mingled. Blended.
They have sketched their presence in long, jumpy, greyish lines.
Like a silent monitor describing a heart beat.
My boots, my jeans, my packsack . . . They also have tasted the trip.

Kilalag. Mountains and rivers.
Nineteen hundred and seventy-seven I remember.
There was nothing here. Or almost.
Nonoy and his family. One boy and four girls. Still young.
A small sari-sari store. A grinding stone.
Two classrooms. Without chairs.
Four horses. And many dogs.
Ten years already.

August. Thursday. Eight in the morning. Still early.
I walked. Yes.
But not alone. Lucia and Socorro were walking too.
With me. By my side. We were together.
Then Abelardo joined us. Then Dodong and his wife.
And leaders and animators and catechists.
Mamuiidas, Caret, Ginal. Paabay.
Twenty-five. Nineteen. Twenty-three. Twenty six years. Still young.
Dimuluc, Taguntungan, Kangko…. new communities.
Four years. Three years. Two years. Still young.
It rained there too.
Bare feet, net bags. 6ne small fish, one small egg. In a banana leaf.
Mud and rivers…. It was for them too.

Nine in the morning. Still early.
We are diirty-one.
All six small communities are present.
Outside, the sun is hot, splashing its rays all over.
A soft breeze touches soil and shoulders.
On the other side of the narrow path,
five meters from here.
Men and women appear.
Big baskets strapped around their heads.
Big baskets hanging on their backs.
They are three, seven, ten, eighteen. Together.
August. Mountains.
Kilalag. Tagakaulo country.
Harvest time. Rice. The magic word. The magic grain.
How good the thought. How sweet the smell.

They slide their fingers along the stems,
press the grains hard.
And throw them behind — in their backs
— in their big baskets.
Hands bare. Hands full.
New rice. Rice of die year. Rice of this year.
Toni^t new flames will crack old wood.
There will be a new perfume in the house.
Tonight it will be fiesta.
The first grains will be offered to Tyumanem: The Great Planter.
There will be prayers of gratitude. Short but deep.
There will be plenty to eat
And music will fill the heart.

Our meeting place is a little Chapel
It is sown right here.
Right in the middle of the rice field.
Our sharing is alive. And lively.
The Bible: Moses: I have seen the misery of my people.
Amos: So we can sell the poor for a pair of sandals.
Paul: Love is patient. Love understands everything.
Leaders. A promised land. Regrets. Deportation … A midnight star.
Jesus: The Kingdom of God…. a seed, a yeast,
two fish, five loaves of bread.
A few grains .. . This is my body. Given for life.
Literacy. Evangelization. Hygiene. Agriculture. Catechetics.
Nineteen hundred and seventy-seven.
Kilalag. A country without communities. Hungry.
May. June. July. A country without rice. Hungry.

Ten years. It passed.
So fast.
Today, six communities. Thirty-one leaders.
Woman. Men. Baptised. Young. Generous.

It is already four in the afternoon.
And we are in the mountains.
Eight in the morning. Still early.
Four in the afternoon. Late already.
Our meeting has to end: home is far away.
Each one leaves. Until next month. In Taguntungan.
We are all pieces of humanity
And it is only when we come together
that we are what we become.
Life is like that. We know.

Outside, in the rice field.
On the other side of the narrow path,
The big baskets are almost full.
It was a hot day. Slopes were steep.
And now backs are heavy
and hands are sticky.
But is was a good day.
A day of flesh and blood.
A day of food.
Ten years, one day. A rice field, a Chapel.
Mamundas, Moses.
Rice, Bread.
Feet walking the land, hands pressing the grain.
Foreheads sweating, knees trembling, backs bending.
Eyes smiling, hearts beating.
Around harvest time.

The Tribal Filipinos Mission in Malita, Davao del Sur

Presumably one of the largest parishes in the Diocese of Digos,the Sto. Rosario P^sh in Malita serves as a center for the Tribal Filipinos missions in the while province of Davao del Sur. Malita coordinates the different tribal Programs of Caburan, Sta. Maria,Don Marcelino, and Malita itself. There are three PME Fathers who discharge the various functions of parish and missionary work: Fr.Jacques Doyon, Fr, Pierre Fisette, and Fr. Gilles Belanger. The Fathers have divided the work in order to optimize their time and other resources. The administration of the parish itself is undertaken by Fr. Doyon while Fr. Belanger and Fr. Fisette handle the B’laan and Manobo; and Tagakaulo missions respectively.

The Tribal Filipinos missionary work may be perceived in two broad categories: catechetical and social action. Opening a tribal mission is initiated through contacts. For this purpose, the first job of the missionary is to travel extensively in his area of assignment in search of friendly communities. In the course of his sojourn and frequent association with native communities, some would eventually signify their willingness to attend an Evangelization Seminar, or the priest himself could identify one or two such communities for which such a seminar would be fruitful.

For more formal visits, the missionary brings with him trained catechists who make several more visits to the community by themselves before a seminar is actually given. The parents are asked to *signa panaad,* a promise to allow their children to be catechised and to support the program actively. The seminar proceeds in two phases: one for beginners, and a second one for a core group. The initial seminar is held at the Malita parish, and the second, in the native community.

Certain considerations require that the participants be recruited from among the young adults in the community who have had at least three years of primary education. Those who graduate from the seminar become the catechists of their own community. Catechetical instructions are usually held in the community chapels for want of schools and are intended for children. There are at present no resources for undertaking adult catechesis. The community is expected to share the modest obligations of catechetical work; in particular, they are asked to contribute something for the remuneration of the catechist. The parish shoulders the major financial burden of the seminars.

The basic content of the seminar is the proclamation of the Word of God, taking into consideration the native beliefs and the culture as a whole. During Bible sharing sessions the local problems of the community are discussed; thus, the Word of God is contextualized.The most commonly discussed problems are early marriage and personal conflicts for which reconciliations are worked out in the same sessions.

The social action component is dispensed through three major programs: literacy, agriculture, and health. This phase usually follows catechetics once the community has been a little organized already.The Literacy Program lasts three years and has three grade levels.The program is attached to formal education, and its more promising graduates are recommended to the public schools upon accreditation by the Department of Education, Culture and Sports. All teachers are employed by the Program which is under the administration of the Parish. They are given a “model house” in the community where they reside as a member of the community they serve.

The agriculture and health programs follow the same procedures as the Literacy Program. The Agriculture Program trains from three to six people from the community in some modem technology such as sloping agriculture and backyard farming. Health visits are an important component in the program, and the campaign is focused on sanitation and herbal medicine. The evangelization dimension is present in every aspect of the program. The activities are often begun with a prayer. There is an integration of faith and action.

The main problems of the programs seem to arise from cultural idiosyncracies and practises: The inferior status of women in the community inhibit them from active participation, while early marriages (many young girls are married at the age of twelve or thirteen) account for nearly all of the drop-outs. Among the native institutions that the catechists and trainors have found to be inimical to the natives is the makabatog. a local broker to whom the Tagaka-ulos look for good business opportunities such as profitable barter deals; credit, or marriage arrangements when they have sons or daughters of marriageable age. Since the nature of the makabatog’s profession or social station requires him to be a well traveled individual, the Tagakaulos also seek him for information about the outside world and usually regard the makabatog’s words with authority.

The social action staff of the Tribal Filipinos Mission perceived the makabatog however, as an exploiter of his own people, and therefore a menace to his own community. For the marriages that the *makabatog* arranges, Tagakaulos are often willing to incur huge debts misled by the *makabatog’s* words on the desirability, or profitability of a marriage arrangement.

A Day In the Lanipao Mission

Lanipao is a barangay of Malita that nestles in the mountainous regions of the municipality. It is the nearest barangay to Malita that is completely populated by Tagakaulos and is one of the places in which the PME Fathers have established a Basic Ecclesial Community. Last August 16th, the editors of this journal went to visit theMission with its missionary, Fr. Pierre Fisette.

About an hour’s drive from the Malita Parish, the trail to Lanipao starts from a small stream. Our party alighted at a lay leader’s house in Talugoy and from there, we picked up the trail. For the first two hours we followed the course of the stream, walking sometimes on its banks but most of the time in the stream itself. After a while the significance of the name Tagakaulo (dwellers of the origins of rivers)dawned on us; we were following the river or the stream to its source up in the mountains.

There were a number of Tagakaulo settlements all over the mountain sides. We were told that we had only one more hour of walking, but that was a steep ascent along mountain passes which in several places were no wider than foot paths at the edge of deep ravines. As the morning progressed, the heat of the sun grew more severe. The barren mountain sides accentuated the heat. The mountain climb was difficult for us and caused a delay in our schedule. In order to complete the day’s journey we had to budget our time wisely, leaving allowances for the main purpose of the trip; to visit a Tagakaulo community and experience the liturgy conducted entirelyin the native language.

A few hundred yards away from the nearest patag (flat land) an unexpected help came. Imoy, one of the Tagakaulo lay leaders,appeared on the path to help us reach his community. He had been waiting for our arrival. He decided to meet us on the trail intuiting the difficulties that we were presently undergoing.

At last we reached the community chapel, a nipa and bamboo hut filled with about thirty to thirty-five native Tagakaulos who have been evangelized in their own native tongue by our host, Fr. Fisette,who speaks Tagakaulo. We started to greet one another in Visayan,unable to speak Tagakaulo. Before the mass we were offered some repast at the house of the schoolteacher. For this we had to do more climbing as the schoolteacher’s hut was located about two hundred meters from where the chapel stood.

The mass was truly a community celebration. It was began byFr. Fisette,_and the people were active participants throughout the whole liturgy. The Tagakaulos read biblical texts and sang songs which have been translated into their own language. The first part ofthe mass was conducted by the Pangulo sa Liturhiya who integrated a “question time” on biblical passages in the short celebration. The entire mass was in Tagakaulo. After the mass, Fr. Fisette spoke to the people about the upcoming fiesta and asked them about the progress of the literacy, health, and agriculture projects. This was integral evangelization in practice.

We were deeply impressed by the stark simplicity of the whole proceedings. By then it was noontime, and with a mixed feeling of gratitude and anxiety we accepted two lunch invitations and went to climb two more mountaintops to reach our hosts’ houses. At two o’clock in the afternoon we started the homeward trek. The skies were threatening, but fortunately it did not rain. Imoy, who had helped us climb the mountain, now together with a companion,assisted us in making the difficult journey down. By then, we were totally exhausted. We could not have made it down without a helping hand.

Back in the convento at Malita, we reflected upon the experience.Despite threatening clouds in the afternoon, it did not rain the wholeday. We shuddered to think what rainfall would have done to themountain trails that we had been climbing.

Setting aside what had not happened, we reflected on whatactually transpired. We accomplished our main purpose for the visitto Lanipao, which was to experience a day in the life of the Tagaka-ulos and a liturgy that was entirely in the native tongue. It was avaluable experience well worth the physical exhaustion together withthe dangers that we were exposed to. We wanted the experience as akind of situationer, and an immersion process for writing about thehistory of the Christianization of Davao.

Some days after we had visited Lanipao, several of the TribalFilipino Health workers went there for a special project. The peopletold them all about our visit. They were very grateful for the effortswe had made to visit them, realizing the difficulties we had encountered. They liked our participating in the liturgy, especially trying tosing the liturgical music in Tagakaulo. They were very sensitive toour every reaction.

The one image that remains is the image of Imoy, meeting us onthe mountain trail, helping us up the mountain, and Aen accompanying us down, the image of the helping hand. The Tagakaulo reaching out to help the struggling guests to be with them, helping them with a quiet strength and dignity, helping them with a deep sensitivity.

What an enriching experience this was for us. The entire day wasan experience of an appreciation of nature as well as an encounterwith a new culture. As we walked with Fr. Fisette, we thought aboutPME missionaries who have made and are still making similar journeys throughout the Davao region, helping establish Christian communities, bringing the Church’s presence to many places. It was aninsight into the mission and work of the PME Fathers.

The PMEs in Jolo

Two years ago, in 1985, the PME Fathers undertook a newmission; to join ie Oblates of Mary Immaculate (O.M.I.) Fathers in working in the Prelature of Jolo in a population that is overwhelmingly Muslim. The four P.M.E. Father are Jacques Bourdages, RealLevesque, Robert Piche, and Andre Rondeau.

It was a new venture for these missionaries to move from a regionoverwhelmingly Catholic, alive with dynamic pastoral activities,employing many innovative pastoral approaches in forming BasicEcclesial Communities and developing lay leaders, and caring pastor-ally for tens of thousands of parishioners to a region overwhelminglyMuslim in population with a Church that is only a tiny minority.Aside from caring for tiie small Christian community present inJolo, the main apostolate is one of witness and dialogue. The Oblateshave done tremendous witness work especially in education, establishing the Notre Dame schools which have been responsible for theeducation of many of the Muslims. The Muslims are very gratefulfor this. The new venture is very challenging. The four PMEs havelearned Tausug and are now assigned to missions: Fr. Bourdages inBongao, Frs. Levesque and Piche in Siasi, and Fr. Rondeau in Bato-bato.

In our interview with Fr. Bourdages, he said that the PMEs arestill in a period of adjustment to this new mission, adjustment tothe new language, to the culture, to the people, to tlie local conditions. He sees the main purpose of his work as being able to givewitness that Christians and Muslims can live together in harmony.He sees the special gift that the Church has to give to the Muslim Community is the value of Christian forgiveness. He said that the value, even the word, does not exist in the Muslim world. This isthe special gift the Church has to share with the Muslims. This sharingmust be given in terms of witness.

CONCLUSION

To write history as a synchronic performance is not the intentionin writing the history of the Christianization of Davao. The abstraction of historical facts or their synchronization must rest ultimately,on individual interpretation. To do otherwise would be to commit aninjustice to the significance of the historical past. The writing of theChristianization of Davao beginning in the 17th century up to thecontemporary and present periods, is an attempt to contextualizethe labors of the Catholic missionaries as well as the evangelizationprocess itself within the social or collective experience of the people.The implicit assumption is that Christianization, together with its successes or failures, its strengths and weaknesses, could only beviewed, and eventually understood upon consideration of a dialectical reality as its context.

The Christianization of Davao began in the 17th century in theeast coast where the Spaniards had already laid political claims oncertain communities such as Caraga, Tandag, and Cateel. The early missionary efforts of the Recollects, and later, the Jesuits, were written as part of the social and religious history of the people.Contextualizing the events means describing the occurrences within the purview of the political, economic, and cultural institutionsexisting at the time. It was necessary as well, to write not only of theevents themselves but of the mutual impact that they had on oneanother. The purely religious events created an impact on the non-Tagakaulo woman and childreligious affairs of the community, and vice-versa. Hence, the Christianization of Caraga in the 17th century evoked associations with thepolitical unrest that periodically flared into violent confrontations between the native populations on one hand; and the politico-religious estalbishment on the other.

The native population of Davao, and in particular its ethnic composition at this time was an important dimension of this history.The description of the native Caragans, Bilaans, Manobos, Tagakaulos,etc., help established the evolutionary change that happened to the indigenous peoples. The transformation of some of them into the Christian Davaoeno of present times is an account of the accultura-tive process of Christianization.

The conquest of the Davao Gulf in mid-19th century enabled theSpaniards to penetrate the southeastern interiors of Mindanao. This event was a most important achievement of the period. It madepossible the extension of Spanish influence from the east coast to about a third of the whole island of Mindanao. After this, Christianity made significant headways to the western half of the island, a predominantly Muslim territory. Heretofore, Christianity would be firmly entrenched on the whole eastern half of Mindanao.

The American period which began in the 20th century initiallyresulted in some unfavorable changes for the growib of a now highlyvisible Catholic church. On the whole however, the setbacks weretemporary and insignificant. With the arrival of the missionaries ofthe Foreign Society of Quebec towards the end of the 1930’s, thefurther and unimpeded growth of the Davao Church was assured.The renewed evangelization of Davao was begun in the last decadebefore the end of the colonial period in Philippine history.

This account has focused on the efforts of the PMEs who played a major role in the development of the Davao Church. Althoughthe present Church owed as much to the evangelizing efforts of otherreligious congregations, it was the Foreign Mission Society of Quebecwhich laid the more solid foundations of the Davao Church. By laying emphasis on the development of the native clergy and the activeinvolvement of the community in the church, the PME Society hassecured the basic framework for building the local church. Morerecently, the PME has reprioritized its concerns. It has renewed itsinterest in initial evangelization, hence the birth of the Tribal Filipinos Mission. With this the Christianization of Davao has comefull circle, the nearly forgotten indigenous communities of Davaowho were supposed to have been the first beneficiaries of evangelization have once again become of primary concern. – Heidi K. Gloria

EPILOGUE: “FOR US TO LIVE IS TO EVANGELIZE”

To celebrate fifty years of evangelizing presence in the localChurch of Davao is a special moment. It is a remembrance of the years, the personalities, the events, the difficulties, the achievements,the challenges, the special graces, God’s presence, the response. Yet,to remember the past is also to cherish the present and to look forward to the future. The call and the challenge take new forms, butthey never cease.

Remembering

As Fr. Allary said in the Foreword, fifty years in the history ofthe Church or in the life of a people is very brief, but fifty years inthe life of the Foreign Mission Society of Quebec is a significantperiod because it is fifty years of building up the local Church ofDavao and turning it over to the local diocesan clergy.

In interviewing Frs. Allary and Picard for this study, 1 askedabout the special contributions of the different Regional Superiorsto the pastoral orientations and directions of the PME Fathers inDavao, and I was very impressed by their response.

What was accomplished in Davao was the work of the PME Fathers, all of them. Do not focus on the Regional Superiors. Everything we did, we did together. We would meet every month. Any new undertaking, any new apostolate would be presented to the Fathers. If they supported it, they would try it and encourage it in their parishes, orthey would give it financial support. If they did not support it, it did not succeed. Not that we had unanimity at all times. We made some mistakes, but we worked together. This gave us tremendous support.

Thus, we have an example of authentic communal discernmentPerhaps, this is the reason for the PME’s pastoral achievement in theDavao Church. What was accomplished was accomplished by thePME Fathers together, not individually. Each of the PMEs gave theirunique contribution. There is no need to focus on the RegionalSuperiors; there is no need to focus on the Fathers who had workedin Davao and had become Superior Generals of the PME; there is no need to focus on the Fathers who had worked in Davao and hadbecome Bishops; there is no need even to focus on one of the twoFilipino PMEs who became the &st Bishop of Digos, Davao del Sur:Msgr. Generoso Camiha. The focus is on all of the PME Fathers wholabored tirelessly proclaiming the Gospel, building Christian communities, caring for the people, fostering vocations to the priesthoodand the religious life. This is the work of the PMEs in Davao.

The people remember the work of the PME Fathers.

Fr. Reindeau baptized me. Fr. Sabourin officiated at our wedding. Fr. Lemay took care of my mother in the hospital when she was dying. I served as an altar boy for Fr. Baril. Fr. Pelland helped me very much in discerning my vocation to the priesthood. remember Fr.Pelletier in Bansalan. I remember Fr. Vallieres in Calinan.

The remembrances of the people could go on and on. Perhaps,this is the most significant achievement of the PME Fathers. Peopleremember the years, the men, and the work. It was hard work; itwas humble work; it was work close to the people. The fifty yearsare remembered and cherished not only by the people but by the PME’s themselves. For it has not only been fifty years of giving; it has also been fifty years of receiving, receiving the gift of being with the Filipino people.

Indeed, the missionary experience is realizing the gift of mutual sharing; it is realizing the Church of mutual gifts. There is an interaction of two cultures, and what is created thereby is a gift of the Spirit. It is a humanizing experience, an experience essential for the Church. Fr. Pierre Fisette has described this experience:

When I go back to Canada for my furlough, 1 am struck by what the Canadian people tell me. They say, “You are Canadian, but somehowyou are different from the other Canadian priests we know. You havetime for us. You have time to listen to us. You have time just to bewith us.” These are the special gifts the Filipino people have given us:the gift of appreciating and cherishing the person, the gift of sensitivity, the gift of having time for people. I am very grateful for thesegifts. I have been enriched so much by my missionary experience in the Philippines, and most especially by my work with the Tribal Filipinos

This realization of the experience of mutuality, of the exchange of gifts, is a memory to cherish for the PME Fathers.

Looking Forward

In the 1960’s, there were more than eighty PME Fathers in theDavao region, now there are less than forty. The PME Fathers havebuilt up the local Church of Davao and have tumed it over to theFilipino clergy. Most of the PME’s are old; the average age is aboutsixty. Only eight of them are below the age of fifty: four are in Jolo,working amidst the Muslims; three are in the parish in Malita, Davaodel Sur, working with the Tribal Filipinos, and one is in Holy CrossCollege of Davao. The local Church of Davao still needs the PME Fathers, but now the need is for an accompanying presence, to fillin where needed, to be of service to the diocesan priests. This isindeed their new call, their new challenge, and they are responding as gracefully as ever.

It is significant to note that it is only within the past fifteen years or so that the PME Fathers have been able to undertake the mission that they had originally come to Davao for: to work with the non-Christians. The rapid expansion of population due to the influx ofsettlers necessitated the PMEs responding to the challenge of meetingtheir pastoral needs and setting up Christian communities for them.Now, that this has been accomplished and tumed over to the local clergy, those PMEs who are willing and able to do so are free to undertake the mission of initial evangelization among the Tribal Filipinos. The work of Frs. Samson, Belanger, and Fisette here has been innovative and dynamic, employing the holistic approach of integral evangelization: combining evangelization and catecheticswith the promotion of literacy, agriculture, and health projects. They are joined in this special mission by two diocesan clergy from the Digos Diocese; Fr. Santos Villahermosa and Fr. Rudy Tulibas, several religious sisters from the Missionaries of the ImmaculateConception (M.I.C.) and Presentation of Mary (P.M.) congregations,pinos. 2 and a team of laity, many from the tribal communities themselves. The pastoral approaches and experiences in this apostolate are gifts that should be shared with the wider Church.

We have spoken much of gifts. That is natural for the celebration of a Golden Anniversary of pastoral service. There is one more gift to mention, however, the return gift. The PME Fathers have been a gift of the Church of Quebec, Canada to the Church of Davao, Philippines. Now, the local Church of Davao, Philippines, returns thegift. The young, dynamic Church of Davao, alive with a strong faithand new pastoral approaches, attempting to promote an integral,holistic approach to evangelization, allowing the Gospel to permeate every human situation as it struggles vwth severe socio-economic and political difficulties, says to the Church of Quebec, the Church of Canada, “Thank you for helping us; thank you for evangelizing us; thank you for building us up. Most of all, thank you for the PME Fathers. What they have learned in being with us, they share now with you. They have been your gift to us. They are now our gift to you”

***Appendix 1
PME FATHERS ASSIGNED IN DAVAO WITH THE YEAR OF THEIR FIRST ARRIVAL
[Refer to the PDF file, pg. 17]***

Sprituality of the Fort-Pilar Pilgrims

Using an anthropological lens, I aim to describe in this paper the spirituality of the pilgrims of Fort Pilar Shrine in Zamboanga City. I will start by situating pilgrimage as a subject matter in anthropology and offer my choice of treating the same subject matter, as I appropriate Michel de Certeai’s praxis. I will then proceed by showing a glimpse of the historical Fort Pilar field to contextualize the physical space where the devotion to the La Virgen del Pilar emerges through time. Tracing a history of this devotion will introduce us to a kind of practical spirituality, characterized more by actions and practices and less by reflection. Then, I will proceed to show that practical spirituality is praxis and a rich ground for reflection and spiritual discoveries. In this part, I will also attempt to imply that reflection is also praxis. Then, I will end this paper with a few suggestions on how to facilitate the practice of reflection for greater spiritual emancipation.

Pilgrimage in Anthropology

In anthropological literature, the pilgrimage phenomenon has largely been treated with a structuralist tone, if we recall Emile Durkheim and Victor ‘Rimer, although Alan Nlorinis (1992) gives credit to “Bharati (1963; 1970) and ‘Rimer (1973; 1974a; 1974d; Turner and Turner 1992, 7) as those who first gave the subject serious attention within the anthropological mainstream.” With the Durkheimian inclination, “many writers on pilgrimage have perceived the activity as a crucial operator which welds together diverse local communities and social strata into more extensive collectivities- (lade and Sallnow 1991, 3). Pilgrimage, therefore, has an integrative function to societies and cultures. limier, however, offers an alternative to this functionalist view of pilgrimage. For him, it is a liminal phenomenon, with the pilgrims motivation towards communitas. Pilgrimage stands against, if not outside, structures as opposed to the functionalist’s pro-structural inclination.

More recent field researches on pilgrimage have however challenged, if not contradicted, the Turnerian view. The problem with the Turnerian model is that it “not only prejudges the complex character of the phenomenon but also imposes- a spurious homogeneity on the practice of pilgrimage in widely differing historical and cultural settings”(5). Sallnow and Eade look at the functionalist and Turnertan approaches to pilgrimage study as both with structuralist foundation because pilgrimage is “seen as either supporting or subverting the established social order” (5). In acknowledging the shortcomings, Sallnow and Eade say: “In order to transcend this somewhat simplistic dichotomy, it is necessary to develop a view of pilgrimage not merely as field of social relations but also as a realm of competing discourses” (5). The trend, therefore, shifts to discourse analysis.

While my fieldwork shows incongruence with the Turnerian model, it also deviates from a discursive treatment of pilgrimage. The main reason is that the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage is more of a practice than a discourse. If I wish, I may succeed in showing competing discourses within the whole sphere of my fieldwork, but only if I were to interrogate the pilgrims’ thoughts and voices. Then I can put together those views for comparison and contrast of some competing discourses about pilgrimage. Yet, the subjects may not even think the matter worth discussing with other people. If no one asks, they may not express them. The ethnographer’s text of competing discourses may not really mirror the field in which people do not really engage in discussions. In the Fort Pilar Shrine, pilgrims neither compete with their ideas on spirituality nor on pilgrimage. In fact, Dudut, one of my pilgrim interviewees, says: Wala man namo na ginahisgutan kung unsay buhaton or unsa and among ginabuhat didto sa Fort Pilar: Ginabuhat lang man namo (We don’t seem to really discuss what to do or what we do in Fort Pilar. We simply do).

The focus of this study then tends toward viewing the pilgrims’ practices which are rooted in their tradition–interactions with locations, religious objects, built structures, and people—as they do pilgrimage at Fort Pilar and find new expressions in their dispositions. One basic element in pilgrimage is travel. As pilgrims start out on a journey, they walk on roads, pathways, and on spaces. They may take a ride, but as they enter the Shrine, they walk on specific locations. There, they touch objects, catch smoke from the burning candles, and even kiss statues of saints. Sometimes, they may hurry to leave the Shrine. At other times, they may want to linger and pray in different bodily positions. Going to the Fort Pilar Shrine means something to them.

Yet, all this has a bearing on how these pilgrims are introduced to this kind of spirituality. Pilgrimage is a product of traditions and the pilgrims’ simple improvisations. Hence, this study focuses on the spirituality embodied in the pilgrimage to Fort Pilar as a practice. To complement such kind of spirituality, this study will also show the need of reflection to harness the beauty of praxis as the nature of practical spirituality. I employ both interpretive and qualitative designs by interviewing pilgrims and personally involving myself in the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage.

Spirituality as praxis

What lens will I use as I start to see, travel, and sense with the pilgrims? Here I will demonstrate my appropriation of spirituality as not mere faithfulness to some theological doctrines whereby pilgrims have to follow what the doctrines say, but as a matter of experience only made possible but not determined by the doctrines. The miracle-legends, for example, of La Virgen del Pilar, to use Certeau’s word, permit different spiritual experiences, without objectifying the legends, since these experiences cannot exhaust their permitting character. In the same way, the miraculous experiences of the Fort Pilar pilgrims allow them a different way of looking at the world and life, thereby permitting them to experience spirituality in various ways. “The event is `historical’ not because of its preservation outside time owing to a knowledge of it that supposedly has remained intact, but because of its introduction into time with various discoveries about it for which it `makes room”‘ (Certeau 1997, 144). The miracle-legends of La Virgen del Pilar seem to have become a condition for pilgrimage and devotion to Fort Pilar.

Certeau claims that “die event is lost precisely in what it authorizes” (145). What it authorizes is a manifestation which “is no more than a multiplicity of practices and discourses which neither ‘preserve’ nor repeat the event” (146); that is why the original event is lost int he plurality of what it allows. Certeau also mentions however that the initial event becomed an inter-location: Something said-between” (145). It seems then that as the original event becomes “more and more hidden by the multiple creations” (147), it also reveals itself as it is said in between, though not revealed in any one. It is in the continuing growth of the plurality that we might see the increasing revelation of the past event. This revelation, however, does not finalize in any form of multiplicity, hence the past event still cannot be objectified in knowledge or in a doctrine. Similarly, the Fort Pilar pilgrims’ continuous devotion to La Virgen del Pilar is plurality of spiritual experiences made possible by some past events, revealing the richness of its beginning without objectifying it at once. The past event dies in the particular but lives in the plural.

It is by this that we can posit the authority in the plural as Certeau puts it: “The plural is the manifestation of the Christian meaning” (148). In this light, the truth of the Fort Pilar pilgrims’ spirituality lies not with any group known in the Fort Pilar Shrine or any priest managing the communal activities, but in the plurality of the pilgrims’ experiences. This plurality is not reduced to one. What marks spirituality is its capacity to pluralize in difference. Difference should not be placed in the context of opposition, but in the context of plurality manifesting a reality of spirituality.

In the context of difference, every “one” has a limit. “The limit is the ultimate law of death (the irreducible existence of the other is manifested in the experience of one’s own limit and death), of solidarity (each one is needed by the others), and of meaning (which cannot be identified with an individual presence or with knowledge or an objective property because it is given by the very relationships of faith and charity as an interlocution)” (149). It is by this that we suspend our judgment about the so-called fanaticism often associated with popular religiosity.

While the condition of the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage implies a past event, its understanding implies the integration of the present, which in turn implies a moving on to the future. Moreover, pilgrimage is not just a movement in time but also in space where boundaries are traversed. It is in crossing boundaries that one realizes its limit. Popular spirituality is indeed a movement-praxis. Praxis “belongs to a different order from the institutionalized of theological statements from which it starts, and which it may condition” (152). Language, and perhaps meaning, cannot contain praxis. It departs from them and conditions another language and meaning. In other words, praxis is an act in the light of knowledge, but also in its darkness. It is a risk. “Praxis always brings about . . . gradual or abrupt displacements which will make possible other laws or other theologies” (152). Hence, Fort Pilar spirituality may spring from the miracle-legends, but continually reformulates them in a variety of new personal miracles, stories and experiences.

It is this spirituality as praxis that in turn sustains the pilgrims’ sacred journey as practice, from which it is also grounded and permitted. “Irreductible direclty to language, yet finding its meaning in language and providing yet new levels of meaning to language, this praxis, formed by separation from and transceding language, is fundamentally a necessary and permanent conversion” (153). The pilgrims’ spritual travels are enriched by the same pilgrimages, which also enrich their spirituality. Fort Pilar spirituality may indeed be a new form of spirituality made possible by praxis.

The Fort Pilar in Zamboanga City

One of the oldest and most historic structures in the Philippines is a square-shaped stone fort called Fort Pilar. It is situated at the southeastern part of Zamboanga City. At this corners are four bastions, of which the main is the southwest corner facing the sea, forming an ace of spades technically known as orillon (Spoehr 1969, 4). Originally, there were two entrances: One was where the present and the only entrance is situated; the other was located where the present and the only entrance is situated; the other was located where the present shrine stands and was the main entrance then (6). “Subsidies (for its construction) came from Mexico and from within the community in Zamboanga. After Cavite, it was the most important naval outpost in the entire country [Philippines]” (Rodriguez 1995, 30).

As early as 1598, the Spanish colonizers under Juan de Ronquilo built a fort in La Caldera to protect the first Christian communities. It did not last, so another forth had to be built, this time near Rio Hondo in Zamboanga City. Under the supervision of Father Melchor de Vera, SJ, a famous missionary-engireer and architect, the Fuerza Real de San Jose was built on 23 June 1635. The Spaniards abandoned this fort on 7 January 1663 in order to fortify embattled forces in Manila. Over time, the fort succumbed to neglect. By order of General Gregorio Padilla y Escalante in 1719, the Fort was reconstructed over the ruins of its old foundation under the direction of the Jesuit priest and engineer Juan de Ciscara. It was renamed Real Fuerza de La Virgen Nuestra Senora del Pilar de Zaragoza.

Gen. Vicente Alvarez attacked the Fort and defeated Spanish Gen. Diego delos Rios, who surrendered on 18 May 1899. I .ed by Gen. J.C. Bates, the American forces seized the Fort on 16 November that same year. On 2 March 1942, Fort Pilar was seized and occupied by the Japanese Imperial Forces. The American liberation troops, in collaboration with the Philippine Guerillas, recaptured the Fort three years later. ‘Fhe Fort was taken over by the Republic of the Philippines on 4 July 1946. Later, the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) claimed Fort Pilar in its name.

It was perhaps the protection and security provided by the various forces that occupied the Fort that allowed its surrounding communities to develop. The influence of the Fort Pilar on Zamboanga and its people is indeed historical and it is for this reason that its influence has continued to the present.

According to Enriquez (1984, 89): “Her image [Our Lady of the Pilar], a garishly painted basso rilievoio of a woman with a child [Jesus Christ] in her arms, high up on the parapet of the moss-covered muralla [Fort Pilar], was, on the 19′ of October of each year, the object of the biggest pilgrimage in all Mindanao.”

At the start of every October begins the festivities intended for the celebration of the Fiesta Pilar in Zamboanga City. For a week or so, the festivities include agri-aqua trade, regatta, street dance, street party, parade, cultural presentation, beauty contest, sportsfest, competition, concert, exhibit, and other entertainment. The traditional afternoon procession and the High Mass at the Shrine of La Virgen del Pilar highlights the feast day on the 12th.

Stores proliferate in and around the Fort Pilar Shrine. Within the Shrine itself are the altar, the trapezoidal houses, the Blessed Sacrament, the benches, the Shrine’s office and, the candle site. Pilgrims visit the Shrine with certain levels of interests—some influenced by their promise, some by the need of grace, and others for thanksgiving. They buy candles from the stores or from itinerant vendors who begin to ply their trade as early as five o’ clock in the morning. The vendors also sell different religious objects. Pilgrims can also have souvenir photos of their visit taken by photographers who actively encourage them to avail of their business.

Within the Shrine are locations of prayer and devotion where pilgrims visit with indefinite priorities because of the unpredictable conditions brought about by having to share space with other pilgrims. There are times though, like at noon, when many of these locations are deserted. There is also the Shrine’s office where pilgrims can ask about thanksgiving masses and other Shrine activities from the clerk assigned by the administrator, who is usually a priest from the diocese. There are two main groups that coordinate with the administrator: One is the La Liga that serves in the mass activities, and the Corte de Honor that helps in the physical maintenance of the Shrine. These groups attain some cultural and social capital as they develop themselves to better serve their purpose in the Shrine. The Philippine National Police (PNP) secures the Shrine in coordination with the administrator.

The Fort Pilar Shrine may be seen as a field of “structured spaces of dominant and subordinate positions based on types and amounts of capital” (Swartz 1997, 123, citing Bourdieu). But as a field of pilgrimage, it is beyond being a field “of power struggles among holders of different forms of power, a gaming space in which those agents and institutions possessing enough specific capital to be able to occupy the dominant positions within the respective fields confront each other using strategies aimed at preserving or transforming these relations of power” (Pilario 2005, 170, citing Bourdieu).

A history of the Fort Pilar devotion

Taking off from biblical and theological bases to some concrete observations, Rodriguez (1995) describes the national as well as international historical development of Marian devotion. The extensive historical observation of Marian devotion in the Philippines only points to the needed situational observation on Our Lady of the Pillar devotion, particularly in Zamboanga City. It needs historical digging from literary archives of the people of Zamboanga and empirical evidence of what precisely these devotees in Zamboanga City perceive and do about their devotion. Thus, a line between doctrinal prescription and actual manifestation must be drawn in representing the devotees of a particular setting.

Moreover, the rapid processual changes in the Fort Pilar Shrine and in the devotees appeal to the need to focus on these people on the manner of their belief, predisposition, and spirituality. The particularly of the devotion in Fort Pilar to Our Lady of the Pillar of Zamboanga may show a different historical process of devotion indeed. For instance, Rodriguez says, on the other hand, that “the historical development of Mary’s cult can be attributed, as both cause and effect, to an extraordinary flourishing of Liturgical texts; especially well known are songs and homilies by Eastern and Western Fathers of the Church” (47). On the other hand, Enriquez says that “this undocumented incident [the miracle-legend of the sentinel and the Virgin], enacted in reladas during her fiesta almost every year at the Fort, must have given rise to the people’s belief in the Virgin’s love for Zamboanga” (190), hence their devotion. What used to merely be a frontispiece atop the main entrance of the sentinel and Mary. In time, the Shrine earned the reputation of being miraculous to both the Catholics and the non-Catholics who go there (Navarro, 1982; 1984, 197). In this sense, the devotion to Our Lady of the Pillar in Zamboanga City was born out of The legendary miraculous intervention of the Virgin Mary for the City and the people therein.

All this only points to a further research that does not see devotion only according to what is written, but also according to the pilgrims’ practices, which are rooted in previous events. It might be helpful at this point then to reiterate Fr. Alejo’s appeal on matters of popular religiosity: “Please let us give serious attention to the way ordinary people are finding God” (Alejo 2004, 52).

Tradition, according to Ellenie, a nun and a pilgrim of Fort Pilar, is mainly the first element that brings many people of Zamboanga to the Fort Pilar Shrine. Their relatives or guardians would usually bring them to Fort Pilar Shrine. Their relatives or guardians would usually bring them to Fort Pilar for various religious purposes. Mamang Choleng traces the roots of her devotion to La Virgen del Pilar: Porcausa se na mi maga mayores (It was because of my parents that I got to go to the Shrine). Daisy and Dudut, said: Ya principia yo mi debocion cuando ya segi yo con mi mayores si ta anda sila na Pilar (I started my Fort Pilar devotion by going with my parents when they went to the Fort Pilar Shrine). Today, many parents bring their babies to the Fort Pilar Shrine, notwithstanding the dusty roads and crowding people. Even the “elbow to elbow” crowd during the street dance on 12 October does not prevent parents from carting their babies or small children on the roadside to watch the spectacle. Jojo, another Fort Pilar pilgrim says: My mother used to bring me to the Shrine when I was a child.” This clarifies what Nanay Presing, an old Fort Pilar volunteer and pilgrim, also says. In her words: Cuando ya abri yo miyo ojos, ansina ya man kame (When I opened my eyes, that’s the way we did things already).

There are stories and miracles about the Fort, to include miraculous apparitions of the La Virgen del Pilar, told in some legends and as experienced by the pilgrim’s relatives or guardians. These testimonies are taken on faith and serve to influence Zamboanga pilgrims to personal devotion. Encultration obviously plays a major role as to why Zamboanga residents do pilgrimage at Fort Pilar. However, these are not the only reasons.

Some start their devotion because they experience great personal problems. For this reason and with the advice of other pilgrims, they visit the Fort Pilar Shine to ask for guidance, help, or healing. Eventually, La Virgen del Pilar’s indulgence is felt as they find relief and allevation from their difficulties. Tintin, a married pilgim, has a story: “El di miyo andada na Fort Pilar porcansa na maga pesao problema ya pasa cumigo cuando casaoya yo. Ya pruba yo primero pidi ayuda alla na Fort Pilar. Despues ya experiensia yo el epecto poreso hasta ara ta anda yo siempre alla na Fort Pilar.” (My going there was because of some compelling problems that happened to me when I got married. I tried at first to seek help from Fort Pilar. Then I experienced the effect, so that until now I still go there at the Fort Pilar Shrine). This then leads to the belief, in the same way other pilgrims are led to, that La Virgen del Pilar in miraculous.

Mamang Choleng, a Zamboangueña pilgrim, has her own reason, too: Yo principia yo serioso anda na Pilar cuando ya experiensia yo un milagro. Un dia, yaman aksidente yo. Dol nu puede ya yo kamina. Ta lleba cumigo mi tata na Fort Pilar y alya ta resa iyo. Despues, ya queda yo bueno como un milagro kay maka estrania el di miyo alibio (I started to seriously go to Fort Pilar Shrine when I experienced a miracle. I met an accident and it was almost impossible for me to walk. My father brought me to the Fort Pilar Shrine and there I prayed. Then, I got miraculously healed).

Belief, then, has something to do with their experiences rather than with what they simply hear from other people or from teachings. As pilgrims like jojo, Mommy Angelin, and Nanay Presing acclaim: Ta cre yo ay ya experiensia yo su milagro (I believe because I experience her miracles).

As the pilgrims continue to go to the Shrine, they eventually internalize the practices and gain a sense of owning their experience. This means visiting the Shine is not based on sheer obedience, tradition, or the novelty of the experience, but also because they will it. The belief they have of Fort Pilar and its patroness is, in the first place, a product of their interaction with the Fort environs from which emerges a personal explanation of their need to go to the Shrine. The foundation of the belief they have of the Lady and the Fort finds connection and relevance to their current needs. For the pilgrims, these needs are usually special and important; they are relative to survival, health, economics, moral, mental, attitudinal — almost constitutive of a person’s well-being.

The belief they have of La Virgen del Pilar is historical and not limited to only one epoch or to the many legends attributed to her that pilgrims vaguely remember today. It is not also traceable only to their observations with their parientes (relatives) from long time ago. Included in the sources of their belief are the day-to-day experiences of the many answered prayers believed to have been miraculously facilitated by the La Virgen. Ellen, an Episcopalian pilgrim of Fort Pilar, confidently says: Cuando ya pidi yo ayuda cunel La Virgen ya pasa yo miyo board exam (When I asked help from the La Virgen del Pilar, I passed my board exam). Dudut has the same story when she passed the Test on English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) that allowed her qualification to work abroad. They believe that it is God who answers their prayers, but La Virgen plays a big role as intercessor. This makes La Virgen their “mother.” Yet, there are those who think that it is La Virgen del Pilar who directly answers their prayers.

Other people’s experiences of answered prayers strengthen belief and motivate many to go to the Fort Pilar Shine. The pilgrims seem to be the kind of people who are willing to try what others suggest or believe, especially when urgent needs arise. Perhaps many of them uphold what Mommy Angelin, an old pilgrim, claims: “To see is to believe.”

For many, the Fort Pilar is a more inviting destination to express their hopes and desires. The Churches are considered merely as places for attending masses and for normal thanksgiving or prayer. In the Fort Pilar Shrine, aside from the everyday mass, the pilgrims sense the loving presence of a mother who can guide and help them in fulfilling their important needs, especially the difficult-to-achieve ones. That is why Dudut, a nurse and a pilgrim, professes: Mu anha ko’s Fort Pilar labi na kanang depress or broken hearted ko (I go to Fort Pilar especially when I’m depressed or brokenhearted). She considers Mary as her “Ordinary mother.” Ellanie, another pilgrim, even considers Mary as a real friend with whom she has an intimate relationship.

Yet, there is also a gray area as to why people go the the Shrine. In many instances, pilgrims say, nu sabe yo porque (I don’t know why). After acknowledging the element of belief and miracles, some would still find mystery in what they do and could not really say why they go. As Ellanie muses, Ta lleba lanf comigo niyo pies (I am just carried by my feet). In moments of deep emotional stress, she just finds herself in the Shrine. Pilgrims find mystery in shy they just find themselves preparing to go to the Shrine without much planning and decision. They find themselves in the practice of pilgrimage and do not have enough awareness why they travel.

This is not to say that they do not entirely know why they go to the Shrine. This is only to imply that pilgrimage and devotion is more of an act than a fact. Pilgrimage and devotion is not usually talked about, but walked about. Thus, words fail to explain why and it is only when they are asked, like in an interview, that they start to articulate what is implied in their pilgrimages. It is in this sense that I find the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage a potent phenomenon to explore.

Practicality in Spirituality

I notice in mu encounter with the pilgrims of Fort Pilar that they organize (although with much variation) space, time, meaning, and communication implicity. By implicity, I mean the organizing acts lie much in the level of practice than in the level of reflection. For example, Daisy, a working mom and a pilgrim, says: Hinde ya yo ta pensa cunel camino (I don’t think of the route anymore). Tintin, another pilgrim, also says, “The length of the travel is not important. We do not think of it anymore.” Their devotion start in tradition then proceeds to belief. They organize time as manifested by their choices and temporal manipulation. Their spirituality is formed through the immediacies and urgencies of their daily life, but they hardly reflect on them. They organize communication as they have ways and forms of praying or dialoguing with their Deity or saints. They convey messages in their gestures and in their silence without really reflecting on these. In Daisy’s words: “It has been practiced, but not discussed.” They organize meaning as they put value and significance on many things they do in the Fort Pilar Shrine. They also have the sense of the many figures and symbols in the Shrine, but very few moved to articulate this. Their spirituality takes form in the recreation of meaning, but they hardly sense this.

Pastoral theologian Mary G. Durkin (1988, 19), comments that “parents are the first and most influential religious educators, “For many of these pilgrims, the beginnings of the devotion to Fort Pilar rest on the practice of accompanying guardians or parents as they go on their pilgrimage. There is an element of blindness here. Aside from having been brought to the Fort Pilar Shrine at a very young age, children were clarified by adults on what and why they reach the age of reason, they more often than not carry on this tradition of practical spirituality, seldom feeling the call to articulate it.

The central characteristic of practical spirituality is practice. It is a spirituality of actions and practices rooted in a culture less of reflective expressions of piety. It is popular religiously in the context of ordinary spatial, temporal, and communicative involvement. To be reflective is to be consciously sensitive to the messages and implications of what happens, to be thinking beings actively “re/reading” human experiences to further awareness. Practival spirituality does not necessarily help the pilgrim grow in terms of reflective ability, but it may very well be for this reason that it can recruit practitioners.

This, in as far as I reflect, this is my reading of the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage. I must, however, warn that I do not intend to purport the idea that no one practices reflective spirituality in the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage. There are those who reflect on what they do as they travel to Fort Pilar, but they are few. This phenomenon perhaps explains the pilgrim’s struggle to find expression about what they do when they are asked about their pilgrimage. Most readily admit that Nu sabe yo porque yo se la ase (I don’t know why I am doing that). Others say, Ancina ya came cosa ta ase (That has been how we do things), Ansina ya came ya engranda (We grew up with this kind of practice), and Por enasa se na di among mayors (It is because of our parents or guardians). The most unexpected answer I got as to why they go the Shrine was. No bay lang (It is just nothing). At that time, I was tempted to think that perhaps the question was wrong because it assumed reflective spirituality on a phenomenon that lacked such.

Part of the practical spirituality is the habit of simply hearing (as different from listening) religious doctrines and popular experiences. Even if many attend the everyday mass at Fort Pilar Shrine, many still do not exhibit the messages in their communities. As diocesan priest Fr. Mike says: “(It) is widely observed that people do not apply what they need hear and say” — and indeed, the observation may hold true for many Christians in Zamboanga City. During mass, recollections, and retreats, the priests remind the faithful of the gospel messages in layman’s terms. As one observes, there are many churches in downtown Zamboanga City and in its barangays. The people attending masses in there places of worship are numerous, too. Yet the question still lingers, “Why don’t we do what we hear and say?” Perhaps it is because people are embedded with practical spirituality. Of course, there are many who apply what they hear and say within the context of their belief. Yet, my interviews with many pilgrims of Fort Pilar seem not to show this.

During the 2004 and 2005 Ateneo de Zamboanga University (ADZU) processions to the Forth Pilar Shrine, the novena prayers were said loud enough, attracting mush attention from the people on the sidewalks. The procession/pilgrimage to the Fort Pilar was indeed full of prayers and and show of sacrifice. No wonder, my impression was that it was a spiritual act and an expression of who the participants were. This impression was not entirely wrong.

My interview with some students and friends who participated in the 2005 ADZU pilgrimage did not disprove the mentioned popular opinion — of not doing what they hear and say — perhaps because my interviews were not about it. However, there was a common thread that ran through their answers to my queries: They did not bother to ask what they were doing in relation to their spirituality. The students agreed that they were not really thinking about the pilgrimage, even as they participated in it. What was quite clear to them was that they joined the procession, they walked, they prayed and they went with their companions. Behind the actions was nothing really related to the question of their action and spirituality.

There seems to be a rich spiritual experience as many pilgrims do pilgrimage, novena, rosary, and attend mass. However, this spiritual experience seems to lie more in practice than in awareness. Many of my questions about what they did and what these actions meant were left unanswered. They seems to do what they hear perhaps because they think less of what is heard. Also, these pilgrims who do not often think of what they do seem not to do what they say. Perhaps this is because these pilgrims think less of what they say. Saving is actually doing, hence practical. It is an act that very few of the pilgrims think about or reflect on.

This is where the organization of spirituality rests more on practice than in awareness. However, there seems not much growth in simply doing things without being aware of them or internalizing them. What growth would there be in the self when it is not deeply aware of itself?

Praxis and reflection

To understand practical spirituality requires that one not only relate it to its past or dig up its characteristics, but also to situate its being present in the context of a process for the future. As a continuing act, practical spirituality is a movement-praxis. Practical spirituality may spring from events and discourses of miracle-legends or from a tradition, but that it also continually reformulates them. “Irreducible directly to language, yet finding its meaning in language and providing yet new levels of meaning to language, this praxis, formed by separation from and transcending language, is fundamentally a necessary and permanent conversion” (Certeau, 153).

One example that leads to this point is perhaps how many pilgrims of Fort Pilar consider La Virgen del Pilar as the mother of Jesus Christ who serves as the intercessor to the grace of God the Father. In other words, many pilgrims are aware that when they ask for healing or any help, the first share it to La Vrgen del Pilar and ask her to deliver those pleas to the Most Powerful God the Father.

But there are pilgrims who directly pray to La Virgen del Pilar in the belief that she can miraculously heal and help them. They feel no need to bother God the Father with their concerns. They think of La Virgen del Pilar as a Divine Mother who miraculously helps them in their needs and problems in the same way as God the Father does. The pilgrims’

communication to La Virgen del Pilar has become so intimate that the dialogue seems to have gone exclusive and personal. Hence, to these devotees, La Virgen del Pilar seen-is to be on the same footing as God, a belief that courts unorthodoxy if not outright heresy. Whatever the case, many pilgrims articulate their spirituality in the context of religion with small “r” rather than with capital “R”.

In recognition of the pilgrim’s tendency toward this unorthodox belief, the administrator of the Fort Pilar Shrine tries to lead pilgrims into the Eucharistic awareness rather than what is believed to be popular religious practices.

It can be noted, however, that this unorthodox belief does not even threaten the day-to-day pilgrimages in the Fort Pilar Shrine, contrary ‘ to what Turner implies when he says, “I am at present inclined to favor the view that a pilgrimage’s best chance of survival is when it imparts to religious orthodoxy a renewed vitality, rather than when it asserts against an established system a set of heterodox opinions and unprecedented styles of religious and symbolic action” (1972, 229-230). There are many other unorthodox practices in the Fort Pilar Shrine that are observable up to the present, like some of the sacramentals (punas-punas, putting of rosary beads in the vehicle for safety, kissing the statues of saints, etc.), but do not in anyway lessen the pilgrimage’s survival. On the contrary, I am inclined to believe that they contribute to the propagation of pilgrimage to the Fort Pilar Shrine because many have proven the emancipatory effects of these unorthodox practices in their ordinary lives. Pilgrimages like this promise to proliferate because their value and significance resonate with the humanness and the mundane life of pilgrims.

The pilgrims’ dialogue with the Deity and/or deities does not only show dependence vis-a-vis providence, but also intimacy. This intimacy is clear in the way pilgrims relate to La Virgen del Pilar. This relationship is so intense that in its being so popular, some describe this religiosity unorthodox. Beyond comparing this religiosity to doctrines is its appeal to solidarity in prayer – an appeal more to the truth of the pilgrims’ being as experienced in everyday life than to the truth found on texts.

This observation surfaced during my interview with those pilgrims. However, the observation was not foremost in their mind. It was my series of questions that led us to acknowledge their communication with La Virgen to be so, especially to those pilgrims who have a background on some Catholic doctrines. This only implies that they do communicate more than they think about their communication. It is in an event, like an interview, that a realization such as this happens. It is in communication still, like in an interview, that how they communicate and what it implies can be observed. To assume, therefore, that “you can’t wink (or burlesque one) without knowing what counts as winking or how, physically to contract your eyelids, and you can’t conduct a sheep raid (or mimic one) without knowing what it is to steal a sheep and how practically to go about it” (Geertz 1973, 12) is without assurance.

The pilgrims’ consideration of La Virgen del Pilar as God implies praxis that may have been influenced by some institutionalized doctrines (although much of the influence is from the miracle-legends of La Virgen in the Fort Pilar in Zamboanga City), but which may condition or influence the same doctrines. This practice is indeed different from the institutionalized prescription on Christian spirituality. This does not even resonate with what many learn from schools or from seminaries.

It is in this fashion that the institutionalized spiritual language finds difficulty in accommodating this peculiar practical spirituality. It is the nature of this kind of spirituality that challenges the language of dogmatism and orthodoxy. What is exciting here is what this practice can contribute as it shakes norms and accepted maxims. It can indeed open up new theologies or new ways of becoming spiritual. In it lies the potential for better understanding and learning of popular spirituality.

As praxis, practical spirituality emerges as a rich ground for reflection and spiritual discoveries. Its being practical for quite a long time in the history of the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage increases its potentiality for understanding and meaning. It awaits its revelation through the pilgrim’s reflective responses. It is there, ready to be deciphered and to be reflectively organized. It is Waiting to be thought of and to be articulated. In a culture of much practicality, the call for reflection is not only more of a need, but also of a promising project for spiritual growth.

Abstract images usually accompany reflection. The latter in its process would normally find much sense and product by focusing on the former. It is my contention, however, that reflection can best harness its worth when complemented with praxis. Abstract images can indeed broaden imagination and reflection, but may not find expression in the actuality of life. Many of those imaginations are enjoyed mostly by the mind, less by the body. ln this sense, reflections from images empty of actuality usually have short life spans in the consciousness of people. It is perhaps when reflection is derived from praxis that it will easily be practiced. What use does reflection have when it does not penetrate into the everyday life of people? Its worth is seen when it is able to give language to what is happening in communities and by which new praxis emerges to Continue this process.

Considering practical spirituality as praxis would constitute a call for attention and focus. This call, however, is never a simple cultural project. It may require a paradigm shift, but this shift must start on the practical level. A culture with much focus on practicality has to use what it has mastered in developing a new habit. Reflection, therefore, is not a mere mental act but must also be practiced. Pilgrims have to slowly make a habit of reflecting over their own spiritual experiences. Making reflection a habit will surely unearth the mysteries of the long-been-waiting practical spirituality to be self-manifested in language and praxis. It is by developing the habit of reflection that the Fort Pilar spirituality may be given proper attention and pilgrims may gain better grasp of their own spirituality.

Juxtaposing reflection with practical spirituality may give pilgrims the venue for better spiritual understanding. It will be a process of organizing meanings on t he nature of their spirituality. Their spiritual experiences will then be names and descriptions. It is by this that practical spirituality will be given processual form and substance and would truly become praxis.

The call for reflection over practical spirituality then is a call not only to understand the kind of popular spirituality pilgrims practice, but also to decipher its relevance for the everyday life in the community.. Durkin (21-4) suggests that there is a failure to link Marian devotion to real-life situations, like the male-female relationship and family life. Perhaps the reason for this gap is that the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage is a practical spirituality with less reflection and hence the same project of reflection may bridge the gap. Even Durkin’s suggestive integration of Mary’s images in the family spirituality (26-31) presupposes a reflective element in the believers.

If indeed it would seem difficult for a culture immersed with practicality to reflect over its spiritual experiences, reading reflections that are based on events rather than mere words would be helpful. These reflections are often read in papers and heard in masses or spiritual discourses. Reflections based on words or texts may help, but much more proper for reflection is the popular spirituality of the people themselves. This is because praxis is ricer that words. Any events is an opportunity for reflection. It may perhaps be better to reflect on how things are said than what are said. In the Fort Pilar Shrine, it is the pilgrims’ practical spirituality as praxis that would serve as food for thought, which in turn would be challenged by consequent spiritual practices. This process, I am inclined to believe, emansipates pilgrims who are faithful to what they do.

For roughly 300 years, Protestants considered additional enthusiasm for Mary a form of “Mariolatry.” However, Protestants are now-restoring Mariology (Van Biema 2005, 40), perhaps because of the undeniable force of reflection over human spiritual experiences. It may be a new way of interpreting Mariology. Not merely as texts in the Bible, but also as Mary’s event. In the same way, the recent concern of many religious denominations to Marian reinterpretations is, for me, a result of the reflective response to the forceful call of popular Marian spirituality in the grassroots level. Taking this as praxis may indeed challenge previous doctrines and theologies. In the end, only when theologies are reflected from spiritual experiences can we spiritually grow and put substance to a profound adage: “Life is a pilgrimage.”

Zurich trained Jungian analyst and clinical psychologist Thomas Patrick Lavin (1988, 32-47) theorizes that there is such a thing as Christianity’s Mary Complex, which in history has been repressed by the patriarchal foundations of Christian theologies. This repression has resulted tot he denigration of the female identity through the years and the hindrance of discovering the “divine aspect of the feminine and/or the feminine aspect of the divine as symbolized Mary, “Borrowing Carl Gustav Jung’s neutrality of complexes and there potentiality for human wholeness, Lavin, in a forceful way, suggests the balancing of the Mary’s images become a source of deep religions experience and discovery of God. In this way Lavin believes that the Mary Complex will heal a suffering culture.

In the contemporary period, as Lavin implies, there is an increasing Marian attention both in the Church and in popular piety. Marian devotion is central in the Fort Pilar. This, however, does not automatically imply a full participation in Lavin’s exhoration on Mary because the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage is more of a practical spirituality than a reflective one. Pilgrims there manifest Marian Spirituality, but much of the actual Marian images and symbols are not yet quite clear and reflectively processed in their consciousness. Hence, I propose that only in habitual spiritual reflection can the pilgrims of Fort Pilar actively participate in what Lavin suggests and find emancipatory grown in spirituality.

The Religious Significance of Land in Pre-Monarchic and Monarchic Israel

The shift in biblical Israel’s societal development from the village life of the premonarchic period to the period of urban development in the monarchic period must have had its attendant shift in its economic life where land surely played a significant role. Through the span of about four centuries, there must have been significant changes in the expressions of the covenant tradition. Thus, many students of the Bible have felt that in studying the shifting expressions of socio-economic life they could find the key to a unifying tradition wherein there was a continuity of the biblical message with regard to land. It is our hope that this nation of continuity in the Bible can help us deal with a similar situation in the Philippines today.

The problem we wish to address here deals with the following questions:

1) What is the traditional concept of land in Pre-monarchic Israel?
2) What is the concept of land defended by the prophets in Monarchic Israel?
3) What is the historical context that brought about such concepts?
4) What is the religious significance of land that runs through from Pre-monarchic Israel to Monarchic Israel?

The objective of the study is to clarify the traditional concept of land in Premonarchic Israel and the prevailing concept of land viewed in the writings of eighth century prophets of Monarchic Israrel.

The erosion or alienation of the traditional land concept in the direction of latifundialization as it happened in Monarchic Israel has been explored elsewhere. With this study of the two periods, it is hoped that a more comprehensive understanding of the biblical tradition would be realized.

The religious significance of land in the Bible has serious implications to the Philippine Situation. It is with great hope that the Church people, especially those who work for social transformation, will gain fresh insights from the most sacred of out Christian traditions, the Bible. Guided by the biblical tradition, they may hopefully become more conscious of the process of transformation that is underway here and thus take the lead as subjects of history rather than as mere passive objects allowing history to happen to them.

To arrive at an understanding of the religious significance of land in the Bible, the Israelite traditions of two periods, those of Pre-monarchic and Monarchic Israel, have to be interpreted in their original settings.

This study is anchored upon a macro-sociological model of Israel as a total social system with all its components: social, economic, political, cultural and religious aspects interrelated and interlocking.

This approach is based on the theory propounded by N.K. Gottwald that shifts in land tenure, from communal family membership to private individual ownership, is one of the major interlocking structural effects of the monarchy.

This study has limited itself to the problem of land in the shift from the relatively egalitarian tribal organization of early Israel (1250-1050 B.C.E.) and further developed by Solomon (cs. 961-922 B.C.E.) and which reached its full development in the northern Kingdom during the period of Omrides (878-845 B.C.E.).

The period of the divided Monarchies began after the death of Solomon (ca 922 B.C.E.) when the north broke away from the south (cf.2 Kgs.12). It is the Omride period (9th century) and the subsequent period of the Jehu Dynasty (8th century), as pictured in the writings of 8th century prophets Amos, Isaiah, and Micah, that were the focus of this study. It is the intention of the researcher to explore the implications of the shift in land tenure from tribal of Pre-monarchal Israel to Monarchic Israel as this was gleaned from the eighth century prophets Amos, Isaiah and Micah.

This study is a new attempt to look at religion or religious tradition from the perspective of the interrelated and interacting features of a social system. One main limitation of the study was the dearth of materials on the sociology of religion and of the latest references for biblical criticism. Materials on the history of religion were also wanting.

So much ground has been gained in recent years by advancement in modern biblical hermeneutics or interpretation as to necessitate a brief review of its development. The science of biblical interpretation or biblical hermeneutics has undergone many phases of development. Firstly, with the advancement of scientific knowledge preceded by other earlier movements in Europe, namely, the major social changes, the Enlightenment, the Reformation and the Renaissance, and the rise of the national and historical sciences, the way to scientific biblical criticism was opened up. Secondly, from an exclusively doctrinal, confessional and church-centered ecclesiastical religious approach for the past many centuries, the historical methods had recently gained ‘prominence and the interaction that ensued between the confessional and historical-critical approaches to biblical studies resulted in an explosion of several methodologies that affected different, even contradictory, interpretations of the Bible.

Richard Rohrbaugh wrote: “It is no longer possible to view hermeneutics as a simple matter of reduplicating the words of Scripture in a modern idiom. What was once a fairly manageable set of rules for interpretation has now become a whole series of disciplines through which the text must be passed.”

This then called for the necessary use of sophisticated hermeneutical tools. Thus, the historical-critical method (HCM) uncovered more ground in understanding biblical history than the confessional religious approach while it explored its limits to the new questions on the social milieu of ancient Israel.

Thirdly, today there is a new phase of hermeneutical development in the new literary and social science approaches to the Hebrew Bible. According to Paul Ricoeur, hermeneutics today is trying to understand the meaning that lies in front of the text, eclipsing the traditional exegesis, i.e. HCM, that seeks to identify the meaning of a text by investigating what lies ‘behind it’ (author, traditions, early literary form). Paul Ricoeur wrote, “Hermeneutics is much more than exegenesis in the narrow sense. It is the very deciphering of life in the mirror of the text.” Rohrbaugh recaptured the same idea in writing. Hermeneutics is essentially a task of translation – not in the narrow sense of reduplicating the words of one language into the more or less equivalent words of another, but rather in the broader sense of recreating meaning in new and different contexts.

The new hermeneutics that uses the sociological method can be a proper complement to literary and historical inquiry according to Norman Gottwald. Although differing methods, the sociological method and historical methods are compatible in reconstructing ancient Israelite life and thought. While the historical method includes all the methods of investigation rooted in the study of the humanities such as literary criticism, tradition history, rhetoric criticism, redaction criticism, history, history of religion and biblical theology, the sociological method is concerned with data collection and theory building in order to grasp the typical patterns of human relations in their structure and function in a given society. This means that a comprehensive collection of data is to be analyzed according to a particular social theory chosen – in order to understand society in ancient Israel. Thus social science models are adopted to explain the systems of development, structure and function of human groups.

Today, the social scientific mind has been developed to understand ancient Israel: either through the structural functional or typological model and the historical material model. The studies using the typological model contribute to a clearer view of particular stages of societal development by elucidating typicalities and generalities in social formations and institutions.

The second classification of models, the historical cultural material or techno-environmental/techno-economic models, by using data on the social forms in history in relation to the means of production, is able to tell how phenomena originate and why and how they change. It is this model that explains the phenomena of change in society. It is not enough to look at Israel’s history particularly unmindful of the role of the social system. Sociology has to be applied to the study of the Scriptures. From Severino Croatto’s basic definition of hermeneutics as “the science of understanding the meaning that human beings inscribe in their practices, as well as in their interpretation by word, text, or other practices”, there is now a wider field of study but Which can be encompassed and understood with the use of a social hermeneutic.

Today’s biblical hermeneutic is both transhistorical and cross-cultural when different cultures can be compared with each other, both synchronically and diachronically. it has been pointed out by sociological hermeneutics what while the Israelite tradition will be interpreted within their own original settings, their relevance can be applied to the situation of the modern interpreter. Thus, with this contemporary hermeneutical approach to the Scriptures it is possible to study Israel and any country in parallel even though these two societies are separated in them.

This present study used a sociological hermeneutic. Different but allied disciplines were used. The data from geography, archeology, history, literary criticism were put together to reconstruct the picture of Israel’s society in the Pre-Monarchic Period and in the Monarchic Period. By applying sociological analysis on historical data on each period one could see the interrelatedness of the different structures that composes Israel’s society and how they influence each other. Sociological analysis could be further used to bring out the typicalities and differences between the two periods in Israel’s history, thus making this study transhistorical. This transhistorical study could be a springboard for future cross-cultural studies between the land of the Bible and any other land.

Land in Pre-Monarchial Israel

There is a growing consensus today among biblical scholars as to the origins of Israel as a people. Israel began its existence in the central hill country of Palestine on the eve of the Iron Age (ca. 1250 B.C.E). The name “Israel” originally referred to the tribal groups located in the north-central hill country of Palestine and not the whole alignment of tribes that previously settled in Palestine.

Israel was the adopted common name of several underclass social groups who had gathered in the hill country and formed a coalition. The small tribal coalition gradually enlarged its membership and gained a wide-spread foothold in the rugged hill country in western Palestine and in Gilead across the Jordan. According to Aharoni, these settlements were especially noticeable in the southern extremity of upper Galilee which is the highest region of Galilee and the least convenient for settlement. The lowlands or coastal areas of Palestine were inhabited by Canaanites who composed the city-state system that survived through the late Bronze Age (1550-1200 B.C.E.). However, a major socio-political upheaval took place in the latter part of the 13th century B.C.E. that devastated the land and facilitated the decline of lowland Canaanite civilization.

Canaan was under the imperial domain of Egypt for two to three centuries of what was generally called the Amarna Age of Palestine (ca. 1400-1350 B.C.E.) and later. The increasing deterioration of Canaanite society during the Late Bronze Age could be attributed to the very oppressive Egyptian domination that bred in turn an oppressive Canaanite society. It was against this oppressive system that some of those who became Israel revolted and/ or withdrew. Thus, the erstwhile dwellers of the plain, people indigenous to the land, had become sojourners and dwellers of the hill country (cf. Josh. 17:16-18). Later in the period of the judges, the people came down from the hills to the valleys to fight the Canaanites and to settle there. Evidence of this is found in the Song of Deborah (Judges 5:13-14)

Although it was difficult, if not impossible, to find a direct link between the Apiru of the Amarna Age, who were mentioned in the Amarna letters as causing trouble, and the early Israelites, the two groups shared a common characteristic. Like the Apiru of the Amarna Age, Israel was among the “declassed, fugitive, uprooted” elements of Canaanite society who withdrew from the adjacent city-states to the relatively inaccessible terrain on the hill country.

The Canaanite highlands were hostile to farming and much energy was required to eke out an existence until iron became plentiful for tool-making. There they mastered the skills for constructing terraces necessary for small-scale irrigation, and water systems carved out from rocks of which the lime-slake cisterns were the significant technological innovations. Without these technological advances in the hill country, survival would not have been possible.

In a rugged scrub-hill country Israel was provided the unique opportunity for establishing alternative socio-ethical patterns that broke down the traditional exploitative class system characteristic of advanced agrarian societies in the plains. Thus, around 1250 B.C.E. Israel emerged as a relatively egalitarian tribally organized simple agrarian society.

There were three theories of Israel’s settlement in the land: a) the Conquest Theory, b) the Peaceful Immigration Theory and c) the Peasant Revolt Theory.

The oldest theory was that of conquest culled from internal evidence of the Bible and from an archaeological evidence of a violent destruction of some Canaanite cities in the late thirteenth century which coincides with the arrival of Joshua and the Israelites.

The second theory states that Israel’s settlement was a long history of gradual nomadic infiltration from the desert. Israel’s peaceful relationship with the other inhabitants of the land was marked by intermarriages and other alliances and only occasionally in the period of the Judges were there clashes, but no major conflicts. It had some external evidence to its claim.

The third theory, that of peasant revolt, was the most recent theory advanced by updated scholarship using both internal as well as external evidence from the ancient Near East. In this theory, the Israelites were indigenous to the land and engaged in agriculture. It did not negate, however, the presence of other sojourners, but instead highlighted the significant role of. the Levitical priesthood identified with Moses who came from. Egypt and lived among them.

Early Israel society was relatively egalitarian. Gottwald described this society to be lacking in ranking and stratification in its social organizational arrangement. Politically,. there waS.a diffusion of political functions; instead of centralization, there was a network of elders drawn from the village, the regional and tribal levels. It was a self-governing association defended from the outside by a citizen militia drawn from volunteers who were basically farmers, and not by a standing army.

As a socio-economic unit, the mispahah or the “protective organizations” and their members enjoyed equal access to the basic economic resources such as land. A system of periodic redistribution of landholdings was devised to ensure the survival of impoverished families. The problem of concentration of economic surplus in particular families was hindered by “the obligation to share with families through mutual aid” (i.e. the mispahah). Gottwald gave a general description of Israel’s egalitarian socio-economic organization:

Ownership of the basic means of production (land, herds, and flocks) was vested in extended families (the primary residential and productive units) that were sub-clustered into the protective associations, backed by tribes, and charged with implementing measures to inhibit social stratification: prohibition against sale of land outside the family, prohibition of interest on loans, limitations on debtor servitude, periodic redistribution of land holdings, and obligations of mutual economic aid to prevent the destitution or demise of extended families.

Israel’s religion was sustained by the cult of YHWH which united them in covenant. The cult of YHWH played a great role in culturally unifying them as one people, Israel , right from the beginning. As long as Israel, the corporate body of equals, agreed to acknowledge YHWH as sovereign Lord and thereby to follow his commands, they would remain one people with an egalitarian socio-economic life. In other words, they must follow the way of righteousness and justice. Religion therefore played a significantly positive role in Israel.

Pre-Monarchic Israel was a cult community that had a more unified social system. It’s religion was a social phenomenon within the social system and as such was “related to all the other social phenomena within that system.” There was no formal distinction between the religious, economic and political components of society, as there is in modern society, since each element interpenetrated the other.
Allen Myers, in a review of the Tribes of Yahweh wrote, “Israelite religion, then, is neither an isolated nor a self-generating entity but rather an integral factor of Israelite society, one which is a function of it yet has an impact on that society.”

The modern world looks upon religion as a separate entity from other aspects of society. Distinctions could be made between religion, economics and politics as though they were separate entities, not integral components of societal life. Bruce Malina wrote: “In our society, religion is a formal, independent, unembedded social situation. It was not such in the world of the Bible.” The same is true of tribal peoples everywhere.

Land

It was in this simple, undifferentiated or unified social system, characteristic of ancient societies with simple economics, that the understanding of land had to be situated. Land has an economic, political and religious significance. According to Marvin Chaney the whole system of land tenure was considered the most significant institutional arrangement produced by Israel as her most self-conscious expression, where “… the fields were held by the village as a whole and were periodically redistributed among its members to take account of demographic changes.”

This repartitional system of land tenure always came into conflict with the prebendal domain or the patronage system. Under the patronage system, the lord would inherit a village as his matrimonial domain and, therefore, had the right of taxation; while in the prebendal system a land might be paid for by peasants in return for the exercise of some ecclesiastical or civil office.

Covenanted in faith in one God, pre-monarchic Israel regarded YHWH as the owner of the land and the Israelites as YHWH’s tenants who received their portion of land periodically in cultic ceremony. This concept of land was communal and egalitarian. Land access was vested in the clan, even when supervised by the eldest male or female members of the extended families. Thus, land constituted the several collective properties of the individual households who made up the clan. The fee cultivators took charge of the production of the land even as they were direct consumers of its products.

Gottwald in The Hebrew Bible provided this description of Israel: “In the intertribal confederacy land had been held in perpetuity by extended families and could not be sold out of the family; protective associations of families guard the patrimony of each household.”

The laws of Pre-Monarchial Israel expressed the concern that land would not be alienated from family or clan in terms of the right of patrimony of the extended family. Thus, there was no private ownership until Israel gradually developed into another type of social organization – the advanced agrarian economy. The process of latifundialization took place in a period of about four centuries (ca. 1000-600 B.C.E).

The historical background necessary for the understanding of the comments of the eighth century prophets concerning land must be approached from two angles: first, the shift from simple agrarian society to advanced agrarian society and its implications in terms of land tenure and second, the social situation of the eighth century Israel and Judah which constituted the world of the prophets Amos, Isaiah and Micah.

Israel did not remain a tribally organized and relatively egalitarian society with a simple agrarian economy. As it settled in the plains amidst the weakening Canaanite cities, it had to secure itself from the other enemies while accomodating new members into its alliance. An experiment at consolidation of forces versus external threat during emergency situations was initiated by the Judges. Eventually this led to a greater political consolidation in the election of Saul as Israel’s military commander in control of a bigger territory than those of an ordinary chief (cf. 1 Sam. 9:16, 10 1: lb). However a strong centralized government to respond to the growing Palestinian threat and to the problem of a burgeoning population with the uneven development of the tribes was, not achieved until David’s rise to power as King of Judah and Israel.

Even before the institution of monarchy, there were already “imbalances in wealth and lapses in the tribal mutual-aid system” as evidenced by the fact that David was able to gather several fugitive followers. 1 Samuel 22:1-2 said that when David departed from Saul’s stronghold many went to him. “…And every one who was in distress and everyone who was in debt, and everyone who was discontented, gathered to him; and he became captain over them. And there were about him four hundred men.” Backed by a strong military force and spurred by political ambitions, David paved his way through political maneuvers from the rugged life of a bandit chief to a more stable position of king.

With David as king, Israel waged wars of expansion and domination against her neighbors (Ammon, Moab, Edom and the Aramean states of the North). Thus was Israel established as an Empire under the Davidic and Solomonic dynasty.

What were the implications of these developments for the people of the land? Wars of aggression were at the expense of the peasant populace. Conscription of farm hands into the army (purpose of the royal census in 2 Sm. 24) meant a corresponding decrease in production output and yet the peasants were relieved of their agricultural surplus for the sustenance of a regular army (cf 1 Samuel 8:11-18).

Solomon’s rule (ca. 961-922) aggravated the land problem. The maintenance of a royal court with a hundred officials and their retinues taxed the people to the limit. Solomon devised a political and economic strategy of dividing the land into several equal districts and appointed his officials to exact taxation from them. The tribal portions. were originally unequal in size and productivity. By demanding agricultural surpluses from peasants for his export products in exchange for timber and metal from abroad, i.e. Tyre, (1 Kings 5:1-10), Solomon indulged in massive construction projects (1 Kings 6-7). His policy of heavy taxation and corvee (1 Kings 5:11-18) fired up a rebellion (1 Kings 11:26- 40) which eventually led to the succession of the northern tribes of Israel, splitting the kingdom into two.

It was the monarchy that bred an advanced agrarian society characterized by extreme social cleavage between the ruling elite and the peasantry. One enduring structural change caused by the shift from the simple agrarian society of pre-monarchic Israel to the advanced agrarian society of the monarchic period was the shift in land tenure. Thus Gottwald wrote:

As entrepreneurial wealth accumulated through taxes, plunder, and trade, the upper class looked for investment opportunities. It is likely that much of this thirst could be satisfied, for a time, by purchases of land and extensions of loans at interest within the administrative urban centers and among the Canaanite regions of Israel unpracticed in old Israelite law… Gradually loans at interest were extended to needy Israelites and their property mortgaged; many of them ended up as tenant farmers, debt servants, or landless wage laborers. Tribal economic security and tribal religious identity were undermined, and the social unity and political trust of the people in their leaders put in radical doubt.

A century and a half after the division of the kingdom into two, Israel in the North and Judah in the South made their rise to power. The reign of Jeroboam II of Israel (789­746 B.C.E.) and that of Azariah (Urriah) of Jerusalem (783­742 B.C.E.) marked the start of the period of material prosperity. But it was particularly in the North, during the reign of Jeroboam II, that the kingdom of Israel reached the summit of its material progress, far exceeding the richness of Solomon’s kingdom. Excavations at Megiddo and Samaria yielded treasures, boasting of material prosperity under Jeroboam II. Jeroboam II was successful in extending Israel’s domains northward and southward and to the east of Jordan (cf. 2 Kings 11:25). His reign, described as Israel’s best years of peace, was actually marked by glaring socio-economic abuses. At the base of these abuses was the expropriation of family properties. A ruling elite of 1-3% lived on the labors of the rest of the population of whom 80% were peasants. Thus, it was in the eighth century that the so-called classical prophecy began.

The prophetic movement of the eighth century B.C.E. dealt with problems that arose as a consequence of the transition period from a relatively egalitarian to a socially structured society. One major problem was the problem of land loss with which the prophets Amos, Isaiah and Micah were concerned.

The classical story of land loss depicting the role of the prophet was that of Naboth’s vineyard in 1 Kings 21. It was a story summarized in three acts: 1) the murder of the farmer by royal decree; 2) the seizure of his land by the king; 3) the appearance of the prophet of God who confronts the king with his evil deeds. This dramatic episode reflected the situation in the period of the Late Monarchy in Israel (ninth century B.C.E.) but it projected clearly the socio-economic picture in Israel for the next century as well. The following dialogue occurred between the king, the first character, Ahab, and the free cultivator, Naboth; the second character, before the seizure of the land by force:

Ahab said to Naboth, ‘Give me your vineyard to be my vegetable garden, since it is close by, next to my house. I will give you a better vineyard in exchange, or if you prefer, I will give you its value in money..

The Lord forbid ‘, Naboth answered him, ‘that I should give you my ancestral heritage. (1 Kings 21:2-3)

The third figure was Jezebel, Canaanite wife of King Ahab, whose treacherous scheme brought about Naboth’s untimely death and Ahab’s acquisition of Naboth’s land. In a letter-writing campaign to the horim, nobility of the land , Jezebel proclaimed a fast in Jezreel where Naboth, as part of the landed gentry there, became a-spokeman in the assembly. His challenge to the crown was met with opposition by two witnesses and by the whole assembly of horim present.

The fourth figure who came into the picture, after the farmer Naboth was silenced was the prophet Elijah. Thus, rulers, subject and prophet engaged in a struggle over land and sacred traditions.

The issue of land loss in 1 Kings 21 was much larger than a small plot of land. Naboth’s exclamation, Halilah! (God forbid!) explicated the sacredness of covenant traditions of which land heritage was a tangible sign. Land was the family’s covenant heritage, and not the property of one man. Richard Rohrbaugh writes in the Biblical Interpreter: ” therefore to alter the status of the land would be to tamper with the covenant itself.”

Jeroboam ben Joash (i.e. Jeroboam II, 786-746 B.C.E.) was the king of Israel when Amos, the shepherd from the Judean village of Tekoa, came to the northern kingdom of Israel to prophecy. His political success brought material prosperity for the ruling elite. This was shown by excavations at Tirzah, the capital (Tell-el-Farah), that revealed very sharp distinctions of wealth and privilege. Mays describe this situation thus:

While the city houses in the tenth century had been of uniform size, in the 8th century by contrast, there was a quarter of large expensive houses, and one of small huddled structures.

The middle class had been reduced greatly, if not eliminated completely. Instead, there was extreme polarization of two classes: the rich comprising less than 5% of the population and the poor comprising the vast majority. It was to the rich, who did not toil, that Amos addressed himself sharply:

Woe to those who lie upon beds of ivory, and stretch themselves upon their couches, and eat lambs from the flock and calves from the midst of the stall. (6:4)

As spokesperson for the grievances of the suffering masses, Amos indicted the rich ruling following crimes against the poor:

Because they sell the righteous for silver and the needy for a pair of shoes – they that trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth, and turn aside the way of the afflicted. (Amos 2:6-7)

The poor were mentioned four times, using four different Hebrew nouns, to show the intensity of the crime of injustice committed against them. Selling the just man for silver indicated a transfer of ownership, while selling the poor man for a pair of sandals referred to a legal transaction wherein a party would take off a sandal and gave it to the other to make binding a contract of redemption or exchange (cf. Ruth 4:7). The commodity of exchange was the poor man’s parcel of land. Thus, Amos indicted here the rich for their crimes of landgrabbing.

The last three crimes of Israel explained how this happened and thus completed the summary of accusations against Israel. Bernad Lang renders a clear translation: “Father and son resort to the same girls. Men lie down beside every altar on blankets seized in pledge, and in the house of their (clan) god they drink wine got by way of exaction.” (Ibid. 2:7b-8)

A major key to the interpretation of the passage lay in the meaning of the ‘girl’ which was traditionally interpreted as prostitute. A more researched reading renders the interpretation of the girl as broker for loans. Thus , the picture of son and father going to the same girl showed how loans were applied for with exorbitant rates of interest that two generations of peasants could not be relieved from it.
Furthermore, this shows that land which was family inheritance and passed on from father to son had become the collateral for exorbitant loans. Other collateral for these loans were fine blankets that were used as dresses by day and blankets at night and wine taken from the debtors.

Gradually, peasants were so overburdened with the never-ending cycle of indebtedness that they were forced to surrender all claims to their patrimonial domain and become tenants or permanent slaves to their overlords. The poor were at the mercy of the rich. This was the reality under rent capitalism which was described by Lang as the system wherein – “the urban propertied class skims off the largest possible income or rent claimed on the basis of liabilities or full urban ownership of land.” It was to this urban propertied class that the merchants belonged and whom Amos addressed in the following passage:

Hear this, you who trample upon the needy and bring the poor of the land to an end saying, ‘When will the new moon be over, that we may sell grain?

And the sabbath, that we may offer wheat for sale, that we may make the ephah small and the shekel and deal deceitfully great with false balances? That we may buy the poor for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals, and sell the refuse of the wheat? (Ibid. 8:4-6)

The eighth century B.C.E. witnessed a shift in land tenure from patrimonial to prebendal domain. The land which used to be the inheritance of the family became the property of the urban elite who continually exploited them. Thus, the peasants of the land had been reduced to destitution as Amos
emphatically announced: “Gather about the mountains of Samaria, and see the great disorders within her, the oppression in her midst” (Ibid. 3:9).

The judgement of YHWH, therefore, against Israel was inevitable:

Therefore, because you trample upon the poor and take from him exactions of wheat, you have built houses of hewn stones, but you shall not live in them! You have planted pleasant vineyards, but you shall not drink their wine! …Therefore, I will take you into exile beyond Damascus. (Ibid. 5:11,27)

Although the situation of Israel in the north, coupled with her illusion of grandeur, was worse than that of southern Judah, Judah no less than Israel came under the same prophetic critique. The first of the classical prophets or latter prophets of Judah was Isaiah of Jerusalem considered to be one of the greatest, if not the greatest, Old Testament prophet because of the “sheer range and vision of his prophecy.” His preaching is considered the “theological high water mark of the whole Old Testament”. The book which bore his name consists of 66 chapters and is usually divided into 3 parts by the scholars, each representing a different time frame: pre-exilic, exilic and post-exilic. Chapters 1-39 or First Isaiah is generally held to be largely the work of the 8th century B.C.E. or pre-exilic prophet Isaiah of Jerusalem.

Judah reached the height of its power in the eighth century B.C.E. in the reign of Uzziah, also called Azariah (ca. 784-742 B.C.E.). Although excavations in Judah did not reveal the great social cleavages as seen in Israel, nevertheless, Uzziah’s reign was “second only to Solomon’s” in fame and likewise was ridden with socio-economic abuses. Isaiah’s prophetic involvement came at a period of national emergency which was brought about by the rise of Assyria as a world power in the reign of Tiglath-Pileser III (745-727 B.C.E.).

Assyria’s conquest of Syria- Damascus and later Samaria (722 B.C.E.) brought to an end the Syro-Ephraimitic alliance which tried to repel Assyria’s advance and domination over.these territories. To preserve their national independence, the two erstwhile warring nations of Damascus and Israel allied with each other and attempted to coerce Judah to join the coalition against Assyria. Judah rejected this proposition and appealed to Assyria instead. Eventually it was Assyria that put an end to the autonomous kingdom of Israel. When Assyrian domination reached Philistia, several cities revolted in succession with Judah playing a role in the connivance. Although Judah escaped the wrath of Assyria, it was in the reign of Hezekiah (ca. 715-687 B.C.E.) that Sennacherib of Assyria marched his armies down to Judah and sacked Jerusalem’s environs. The years of national emergency to which Isaiah bore witness were long — from Uzziah’s death (ca. 742 B.C.E.) to the succession of Jotham, his son,(ca. 750-735 B.C.E.), to Ahaz (ca. 735-715 B.C.E.) and finally to Hezekiah (ca. 715-687 B.C.E.)- a period covering not less than 40 years.

The death of Uzziah signalled a year of foreboding when Judah’s national confidence must have been shaken. Isaiah, prophet in the royal house of David, received his call at an appropriate time when he was very much needed: in the year King Uzziah died. This was Judah’s hour of tragedy and crisis.

The national emergency situation was caused not only by Assyria’s rise to power, but by what John Bright termed Judah’s “internal sickness” caused by “the progressive disintegration of ancestral patterns”. Thus, Isaiah’s address to Judah’s ruling class revealed abandonment of her basic ethical laws which made her unholy:

Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean. Remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes; cease doing evil, learn to do good.

Seek justice, correct oppression, defend the fatherless, plead for the widow. (Is. 1:16)

The blame was put on the leaders of the people:

Your princes are rebels and companions of thieves. Everyone loves a bribe and runs after gifts.

They do not defend the fatherless and the widow’s cause does not come to them. (Is. 1:23)

Material prosperity and peace had blinded Judah’s leadership with over-confidence and, as such, Isaiah compared them with the Philistines:

Their land is filled with silver and gold, and there is no end to their treasures. Their land is filled with horses, and there is no end to their chariots. Their land is filled with idols; they bow down to the work of their hands, to what their own fingers have made. (Is. 2: 7-8)

As a prophet of noble birth, Isaiah was quite aware of the evil doings of higher officials and leaders in the kingdom and thus exhorted them:

The Lord enters into judgment with the elders and princes of the people: “It is you who have devoured the vineyard; the spoil of the poor is in your houses. What do you mean by crushing my people? by grinding the face of the poor?,” says the Lord God of hosts. (Is. 3:14-15)

It was the leisure class and their abuses, similar to that found in Amos’ prophecy, that Isaiah denounced:

Woe to those who rise early in the morning, that they may run after strong drink, who tarry late into the evening till wine inflames them! They have lyre and harp, and flute and wine at their feasts; but they do not regard the deeds of the Lord, or see the work of his hands. (Is. 5:11)

The official leaders of the kingdom were identified by Isaiah to be the perpetrators of oppression: “Woe to those who decree iniquitous decrees, and the writers who keep writing oppression, to turn aside the needy from justice and to rob the poor of my people of their right, that widows may be their spoil, and that they may make the fatherless their prey!” (Is. 10:1)

In Isaiah’s opinion, a glaring manifestation of this sinfulness of these leaders was in the process of latifundialization which was happening in his own time. God’s justice, according to Isaiah, was directed against the wicked who prospered in commerce and who had now become the landed gentry: “Woe to those who join house to house, who add field to field, until there is no more room, and you are made to dwell alone in the midst of the land.” (Is. 5:8-9) The depth of this national sin was so great that Isaiah prophesied Judah’s downfall at the hands of Assyria.

The prophet Micah came from Moresheth or Moresheth-Gath, a small town in the Judean foothills or Shephalah. A contemporary of Isaiah in his later ministry, Micah prophesied in the days of Hezekiah as attested to by Jeremiah in Jer. 26:18.

A man of the countryside like Amos, he was steeped in the old tribal traditions of the village settlements. His biting, indictments against socio-economic injustice must have come. from a first-hand knowledge of abuses incurred by the urban elite against the rural population. It was understandable therefore that he identified the root of sinfulness in the hierarchical socio-political structure of the capital cities:

What is the crime of Jacob? Is it not Samaria? And what is the sin of the house of Judah? Is it not Jerusalem? (Mi 1:3b)

The capitals of the kingdoms, as the political, economic and religious center were the seats of oppression. Comparative sociological studies of pre-industrial societies have shown the relationship between urban and rural population as one of domination of the former over the latter. In agrarian societies monarchies thrived on the labors of a rural population engaged in subsistence economy. In order to derive more products from the peasants, state control of basic economic resources such as land was resorted to.

Micah’s condemnations were addressed directly to the leaders in Jerusalem, the public officials, priests and prophets of the court who were responsible for the deterioration of the old tribal order. “Hear this, you heads of the house of Jacob and rulers of the house of Israel, who abhor justice and pervert all equity, who built Zion with blood and Jerusalem with wrong. Its heads give judgment for a bribe, its priests teach for hire,its prophets divine for money…” (Mi. 3:9-11)

Micah’s famous text against the latifundialists was not merely directed against the act of possession of vast estates but also connotes the callous and anti-social means by which such estates were acquired and maintained.

Woe to those who devise wickedness and work evil upon their beds! When the morning dawns they perform it, because it is in the power of their hands. They covet fields, and seize them; and houses, and take them away; they oppress a man and his house, a man and his inheritance. (Mi. 2:1-2)

This caricature of the urban elite indicated that Micah had direct, firsthand experiences of having been dispossessed of land. The man’s inheritance, the bavith, was not just his house but the field on which his house stood and from which he earned his subsistence and thus provided the security for every Israelite family. This bavith stood for financial independence, equal political and social rights for every peasant in Israelite society.

To the big merchant landgrabbers, therefore, was addressed the tenth commandment as an indictment against latifundialization. “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house (the bavith)…” (Ex. 20.17).

The socio-economic situation that Micah witnessed from the vantage point of the oppressed countryside must have been so grim that his speeches were biting indictments similar to those of Amos. According to Heschel, he was the first prophet to predict the destruction of Jerusalem. Yet his promises and his vision of a new society created images far beyond the ordinary, “evoking an alternative world in the consciousness of Israel.”

In 4: 3-5, Micah’s vision of a new Messiah and a state of disarmament pointed to the fulfillment of the prophetic promise of peasants living in the security of their own land.

He shall judge between many peoples and shall decide for strong nations afar off; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore; but they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree, and none shall make them afraid.

These last lines reveal that Micah the poet was “in touch with deep agrarian dreams.” Personal fulfillment for the peasant was to have his own vine, or his own fig tree in his small patch of land that was his inheritance, his nahalah.

More than the other prophets of the eighth century B.C.E., the prophets Amos, Isaiah and Micah had spoken strongly on the issue of the land. Their condemnations against those directly involved in landgrabbing and their defense of family land rights stemmed from their rootedness to the
ancient covenant traditions of Israel. Their prophecies brought to the fore the clash of two opposing concepts of land: that of pre-monarchial origin and that of the monarchial concept of proprietory rights over land.

To understand the continuing trend of social organization that bridged early Israel and monarchic Israel, the model of the pre-industrial agrarian society had to be resorted to. This was the type of society that continually existed all over the world for the span of about fifty centuries. Simple agrarian societies started around 3000 B.C.E. and gradually evolved to advanced agrarian societies until 1850 B.C.E. This model of society has abounded even at present in the underdeveloped and developing Third World nations where paleotechnic ecotypes in agriculture, varying from swidden to permanent cultivation, are employed.

In early Israel and in monarchic Israel paleotechnic ecotypes in agriculture were employed. These ecotypes were said to have been derived from the first agricultural revolution which started about 7000-6000 B.C.E. and which became more defined around 3000 B.C.E. with the adoption of animal plowed agriculture.

Agrarian societies are defined as those societies whose primary subsistence was a cultivation of fields which utilized the plow but not industrial technology. These societies began to make their appearances in the fertile valleys of the Middle East some five to six thousand years ago and constituted one of the great social revolutions of antiquity. The invention of the plow, the discovery of metallurgy, the harnessing of animal power and the use of the sail and the wheel provided the technology for a revolution from the old horticultural societies into that of developed agrarian societies.

Advances in technology and methods of production brought about by the invention of the iron plow and other tools combined to create agricultural surpluses. Together with the advances in agriculture were developments in military technology which led to the conquest of neighboring territories. The birth of monarchies which developed into true empires by conquest of bigger territories were maintained by continual warfare. Most agrarian states came into being by conquest. Because of internal struggles for power, peasant movements rose up. While the state ushered in the birth of national religions which legitimized the social order, the peasant societies produced different versions of religious history and tradition.

The peasant societies which eventually became Israel came from the land of Canaan which was under Egypt. While Canaan promoted a state religion, Israel produced a different version of religious history and tradition which was attested to by the Bible. It was this version of Israel’s history and tradition that was examined in this study.

Pre-monarchic to Monarchic Israel

Since this study was anchored on the macro-sociological model of Israel as a total social system, an examination had to be made of the different interlocking elements in Israel’s organizational shift from simple egalitarian agricultural society to a society characterized by a poor rural and rich and powerful urban dichotomy that existed in the period of the classical prophets.

One element in Israel’s organizational shift from the pre-monarchic to the monarchial form of organization was the change from traditional village leadership to bureaucratic leadership to bureaucratic leadership based in the urban center. The clan, the village or the tribe was originally the legal community whose political affairs were in the charge of the elders and tribal officials who sat at the city-gates to pronounce their judgements on issues and problems. There was a diffusion of functions through this network of village elders. Likewise, the defense of the land was done by a citizen militia called for by the village leaders. In the institution of the monarchy, however, the political power of the monarchy was backed by a standing conscripted army paid for through people’s taxation.

The frontier village settlements of pre-monarchic Israel bred the simple agrarian economy characterized by egalitarianism. The protective association of families, originally instituted in the early days of Israel to cope with the harsh demands of survival, adopted economic policies of mutual aid and the practice of equal access to land. Land was held in common by village clans and periodically redistributed. However, the rise of the monarchy determined the control of power and eventually weakened the village clan structure. The economic policies of the State created a dual shift in the use and ownership of the land. From the original use of land for production of subsistence agricultural crops (wheat, barley) for peasant families’ consumption, land became a source of investment with its produce of export crops (grapes, olives) increasing its commercial value. Ownership of the land was wrested from the family and clan through a process of debt, outright sale or forcible usurpation as in the case of King ahab versus Naboth (1 Kings 21) where Naboth’s nahalah was added to the crown’s property.

The cultural component is the area mainly of religious institutions and thus this will be explained further under religion. With the long history of the religion of Israel, which dated back to its prehistoric period, religion therefore deserves a separate treatment.

Since the conquest of the land which seems to have really taken place under David, Israel reverted to Canaanite ways and culture. From the very beginning of kingship, the policies of the king came into conflict with the old village or tribal traditions. One major policy referred to land. For this reason the institution of kingship was a painful controversial issue preserved in the vivid account of 1 Samuel 8. Walter Brueggemann describes the trend as the “imitation of urban imperial consciousness of Israel’s more impressive neighbors and a radical rejection of the liberation consciousness of the Mosaic tradition.”

Religion in Israel had a long history which could be traced back to Israel’s prehistory. Thus religion, although a part of culture, deserves a longer treatment. Israel started as a tribal or folk society belonging to the re-industrial agrarian world and as such had a premodern or a traditional world view. Their’s was a unified cultic world, not compartmentalized into economic, political, and religious spheres. A characteristic of this world view was the understanding that all forms of life were interrelated. This understanding was enshrined in their old cosmology or myths of creation (cf. Gen. 1-2:25).

Biblical Israelites had in their background a primal religion where nature was filled with spirit-presence and endowed with psychic powers. Their regard of the mountain as the manifestation of God’s presence was one of the vestiges of this animistic outlook. Thus Israel’s ancient God, El Shaddai, was associated with the mountains.

In this animistic culture, which is regarded today as holistic, human beings did not see themselves apart from or superior to land and created reality but rather as intimately linked with it. This intimate closeness with land is reflected in the myth of Israel’s origin where the ancestress Rebecca ceased to be a human prototype but became a prototype of the land from whose womb nations sprang into being. Gen. 25:23 reads:

Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you, shall be divided,
The one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger.

Aside from being a traditional people who had great respect for life and the source of life, early Israel saw land as the sign of the covenant. Land was understood to have been promised to their early ancestors. As covenanted land, it was a gift that had to be treasured, otherwise the covenant itself should be tampered. Walter Brueggemann explains land as a form of inheritance:

…it is held in trust from generation to generation beginning in gift and continuing so, the land management is concerned with preservation and enhancement of the gift for the coming generations. Thus, Naboth the Jezreelite could answer King Ahab: The Lord forbid that I should give you my ancestral heritage! (cf. 1 Kings 21:3)

All through the period of the Judges or premonarchic Israel, land was a dimension of family history with this traditional concept intact . However, because of the national emergency situation caused by the Philistine crisis, the tribes of Israel found in David a hero who would champion their cause to fight the more efficient Philistine forces. This needed a consolidation of political power, backed by religious authority. Since popular support in the case of Israel was invoked by covenant relations, the monarchy’s institution was secured by taking over the concept of a covenant relation. Such was the case of David’s rise to kingship.

The building of the temple which was first envisioned by David and actualized by Solomon was a symbolic gesture of localizing religion in the center and installing the religious power in the royal priesthood as in the case of Abiathar and Zadok. Traces of diffused religious authority in the villages survived in the levitical priesthood. Although greatly weakened, those teachers of the Law who followed after Moses, taught and popularized among the village people the covenant traditions that were to be defended later by their more able descendants, the prophets of the eighth century B.C.E.

The Canaanization of Israel reached its climax during the days of the Omrides (878-845 B.C.E.). The Omrides enforced religious policies that threatened the old covenant tradition of Israel. The laws that governed the village life of the Israelite community before the institution of monarchy had to be invoked by the prophets. Faithful to the Mosaic tradition, the prophets were scandalized at the national disorder and deterioration brought about by the politico-religious center. They pronounced indictments against Israel and Judah in defense of the Mosaic covenant tradition.

The village prophets, particularly, had the unique role of standing their ground before the kings’ policies on the question of land governance. The prophetic perception of land as YHWH’s gift and the peculiar means of keeping it proved contrary to the kings’ view; thus the prophetic warnings of
eventual land loss were included.

Eventually, however, the kings’ resistance to the Mosaic tradition won over the prophets with their strong appeal to the royal covenant tradition traced to David. Thus, laws that governed ancestral land heritage or nahalah gave way to the kings’ proprietory property rights (cf. 1 Kngs 21). Rural economic life controlled by the urban center, with the rise of the merchants and politico-military elites, hastened the dissolution of ancestral lands. As a result, land became an alienable and tradeable commodity.

Summary and Concluding remarks

By way of summary it can be said that, although there was a change in Israel’s social structure in its shift from the premonarchic to the monarchic period, there was a stable aspect of culture promoted by tradition that remained essentially the same. Although the economic, political and social structures underwent change, there was a conservative force in biblical Israel’s history, identified as its religion, which gave meaning to its historical experiences and wove them into a unifying tradition. To this area belonged the religious concept of land. It was this concept of land which ran through the two distinct periods of Israel’s history in spite of the changes in land tenure.

The actual governance of land in Monarchic Israel ran contrary to the Mosaic tradition but the canon of biblical tradition itself defended the integrity of the prophetic message. Thus, the prophets’ view of land prevailed over the current practices of land governance since it was regarded as an integral part of the canonical teaching of the Bible. In this way, the religious significance of land in Israel was established and maintained as one tradition.

On the basis of the results of the study in the preceding chapters, which was anchored on the theory of N.K. Gottwald, the following are the conclusions arrived at by this writer:

First of all, pre-monarchic Israel started like other peoples as a traditional society with a primal religion where land and all the life- forms it nourished were considered sacred. Land was regarded as the basic source of life. As part of nature it was created by God and therefore had great religious value.

Second, by the very peculiar nature of Israel’s origin, land did not remain sacred only in itself. The land was not just part of nature but was now intimately linked with history and tradition. It was acknowledged as a gift from YHWH, a promise for future generations and was therefore Israel’s covenant heritage. The very existence of Israel as a people found assurance and continuity in the land. Thus land, as the extended family’s covenant heritage, as bayith, was ensured by the tenth commandment (Ex. 20:17).

Third, the prophets, specifically those of the eighth century, were for the pre-monarchic covenantal concept of land which regarded land as sacred and part of the clan’s history and not for the monarchic concept of proprietory rights over the land. In the face of erosion and alienation of the traditional land concept, as in the case of latifundialization, the prophets’ message on land use prevailed over the other voices.

Fourth, the understanding of the traditional concept of land as God’s gift to humans was defined no less than by Israel’s historical context.

Early Israel’s emergence in the rugged hill country of Palestine and its settlement in the plains of Palestine was the end-result of a long process of struggle brought about by the social turmoil in Canaan and Egypt. Just as Canaan and Egypt became so oppressive that a group of people, the Hebrews, were marginalized and eventually turned into outcasts from the rich land, Israel emerged as an alternative society bound by covenant to the worship of YHWH. Life and its sustenance was given prominent value. Thus, YHWH’s promise and gift of land was meant for the whole of Israel and not for some individual families. This was the core of Israel’s covenant tradition to guide the future generations of Israel.

In a similar way, in a later period, in Monarchic Israel, when oppressive social structures deprived people of access to land as their basic source of life, the prophets, who were heirs to the Mosaic tradition, came up in the defense of poor people’s basic right to land.

Thus, the religious significance of land or the value of land derived from the stable aspect of culture promoted by religious tradition remained the same from the period of early Israel to that of Monarchic Israel. The traditional concept of land was the same concept of land defended by the prophets in Monarchic Israel. In these two phases of Israel’s religious history, and later, Israel’s religious tradition pointed to the sacredness of land.

Seen from the light of a much later experience as the Post-Exilic Period, the preservation and editing of the prophetic documents in the Canon reveal the integrity of the prophetic message. By invoking the Mosaic covenant tradition, the prophets’ view of the land was acknowledged by the sacred authors of the Bible to be an integral part of the canonical teaching of the biblical tradition.

Recommendations

In the light of the results of this study and the significant implications it has on the present Philippine land problem, the following are the recommendations addressed especially to those involved with land and religious traditions:

Firstly, the study of the Bible has to be promoted among Christian lay people and professionals. A critical and post-critical approach to the Bible is needed in this regard. Thus, results of studies exploring the origins and history of Judaeo-Christian faith and their implications to our present world are most welcomed.

Secondly, The Philippine community has to look to the vanishing Filipino Lumad and their indigenous culture for an appraisal of Philippine cultural identity from the standpoint of our Lumad roots and for the preservation of the nation’s rich cultural heritage. Studies on Filipino Lumad are in line with this concern.

Lastly, cross-cultural and transhistorical studies of the Philippines’ dual heritage should be undertaken to profit from both biblical and Filipino Lumad traditions. One concrete recommendation is a comprehensive study of the religious significance of land in both biblical Israel and in the Philippines.