Category Archives: Pingkian

Leaf Springs & Life: What a mechanic taught me about faith, cancer, & learning to live within my limits

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“I guess sometimes the leaf springs flatten out and need to be replaced.”

My car had been riding low for quite some time and would occasionally bottom out when fully loaded. So I took it in to Pablo, my regular mechanic. His reply was not car-related but yet surprisingly still related to things in my own life.

“Actually, that’s true of everything in life, isn’t it?”

Pablo is a student of the bible and usually an appointment with him touches on some aspect of life and theology. He always finds ways to connect what he reads there to the real world around him. 

My initial reply was a cautious, “Yeah, I guess it is. A lot of things in life are like that,” but then I thought I would get right into the heart of the matter. “In fact, that’s true for me now. I’m sick, and I’ve realized that even with me, some things eventually need to be replaced.”

“Oh? What’s wrong with you?” He replied.

Since I had already committed myself, I continued on. “I have prostate cancer. They discovered it just over a month ago. It also seems to have affected my bones, kidneys, and bladder!”

“Well that certainly fills up your thoughts, then, doesn’t it?” he asked. 

“Yeah, it does.”

“Well, I think that as long as you’re ready, everything is okay — If you’re ready, there’s no fear. But if you’re not ready, then you’re afraid,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s true. I’ve spent some time reflecting on my life, and I’ve realized that I have no regrets and nothing I would want to change. I’m ready, and I have no fear of the future.”

What does it mean to be ready?

Yes, it’s true. I have prostate cancer that has metastasized into my bones, kidneys, and bladder. This was not something that I was expecting but it lead me to discover that what Pablo says is true — all of a sudden I came face to face with my own mortality and it did occupy my thoughts. My first thought was, “Am I ready to die?”

On Being Ready & Faith

My life’s leaf springs have flattened out. But where exactly is the problem? Perhaps I need more faith?

But as I reflect, I realise that I have no regrets. I have no doubts. I have a firm foundation. I have assurance.

I remain firmly convinced of the faith that began growing in me from a very young age at my parents knee. A faith that was strengthened through attending churches. A faith that was strengthened through participation in devotionals at our young peoples group. Faith that was strengthened through experiencing a different culture when I was in high school and trying to figure out how the Gospel fit into that. The faith that was strengthened through formal studies, both in university and in seminary. And a faith that I still hold today. That faith is very simply stated: Jesus is Lord, and God has raised him from the dead!

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a stick in the mud. My faith has grown through those years as I have gotten deeper into God‘s word, as I have conversed with God’s people, as I’ve seen different perspective from the different people in my life, and as I have engaged with people who come from different faith communities. All of this has helped strengthen and deepen the faith that was first started as a seed so many years ago.

But it’s not something that I merely believe while waiting for the age to come. It is something I believe in my day to day life. God also has a task for me. I am called to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ as ruler of the world. I am called to conform to and live out the values of his Kingdom. I am called to love God and love my neighbour. And I am called to bear witness to the truth.

As Pablo points out, this shapes all that follows.

But my problem isn’t lack of faith. So why, then, have my leaf springs collapsed?

On Being Ready & Buckets Lists

My leaf springs have flattened out. But where exactly is the problem? Maybe I have unfinished business?

When I first received a diagnosis of cancer, my mind immediately went to the end. I began asking myself, “Am I ready to depart this earthly vale and move on into whatever glory God has intended for me?” Very quickly, I came to the conclusion that, “Yes, I am.” I don’t actually have a long list of things I feel compelled to accomplish before that day comes — a bucket list, as it were.

As I reflect, I realize that as a young boy, I dreamed of becoming a hermit living in a log cabin in the bush. At other times, I dreamed of being a soldier or a missionary.

Looking back, I realize that God answered those dreams in ways I never would have anticipated. I never became a hermit, but I spent countless hours in the wilderness — and the wilderness remains one of the places where I feel closest to God. I never became a soldier (apart from a brief time in the NSaskR), but I learned something about commitment to a cause larger than myself. And I did become a missionary, though not in any form I could have imagined as a child. My childhood imaginings involved a missionary standing beside a large cooking pot containing an unfortunate victim — a horrible misrepresentation, but one that says something about the quality of missionary education available to me at the time!

As a child, our family regularly vacationed in the Rocky Mountains. In high school, I paddled hundreds of kilometres through the Churchill River system, sometimes in a group and sometimes solo. I have swum Otter Rapids wearing a life jacket. A few years ago, I went for a midnight swim in the Pacific Ocean with my son Daniel.

I have flown in planes ranging from a Piper Cub to a 747. I have driven Canada from Port Alberni to Quebec City and crossed large stretches of the United States by road. Ministry and teaching have taken me to Mexico, Japan, the Philippines, South Korea, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Thailand, Singapore, Qatar, Georgia, and Brazil. I have ridden in a car along part of the Silk Road and tested how water drains from a sink in both hemispheres.

I was present for the birth of my two children, Emily and Daniel.

I got involved in the World Wide Web near the ground floor and developed one of the first 10,000 websites in the world. I have formally studied four languages — English, French, Ancient Greek, and Tagalog — and speak two of them fluently.

I have preached in more than a hundred churches across Canada and in several countries around the world. I have taught theology internationally and participated in planting three churches in two countries.

I have cooked over an open fire, fished from a canoe, and sat at night listening to loons call across the lake.

There are still things I think about doing, places I would like to see, books I would like to read, and people I would like to spend time with. But I don’t feel that I have been cheated out of life. God has already given me far more experiences than I ever expected to have.

So, yes, I am ready. Not because I have exhausted life, but because I do not feel that I have left life unlived.

Which raises a different question.

If I am not afraid of dying, and if I am not troubled by an unfinished bucket list, then why do I feel as though my leaf springs have collapsed?

On Being Ready & Ministry

My leaf springs have flattened out. But where exactly is the problem? Maybe there is no one left to continue my work?

Pingkian has been one of God’s greatest gifts to me.

When I arrived in Pingkian, I possessed a great deal of knowledge about ministry. I had studied it, taught it, preached about it, and thought deeply about it. I had been present when MMBC was planted, although at that stage I was mostly a kid along for the ride. Later, I helped plant New Hope Community Church in Canada, served on the pastoral staff there, learned to preach, and gained valuable experience in church ministry.

Yet much of my understanding remained theoretical.

When we first moved to the Philippines, we lived in Cubao and were somewhat isolated from the communities around us. Ministry happened at 670 EDSA. We travelled there, did ministry, and went home again.

Pingkian changed that.

For all my knowledge about community ministry, I had never truly learned how to immerse myself in a community. I remained, by nature, a shy and quiet person. In many ways, I was a reluctant pastor. It was the people of Pingkian who taught me what ministry really looks like.

The Riobuya family showed me what it means to have a vision for reaching an entire community.

The Laguda family showed me what it means to be family — not merely to attend church together, but to celebrate life together.

And I could go on much longer, but will have to limit myself to naming names: Ramil & Margie, Kandase, Clark Gonzales, Rose Ann, Kasavina, Kirvi, Kio Gonzales, Thess & Macmac Caparas, Elmer & Emily Belarmino, Marycris & Justin, Red Belarmino, John, Milarose, Marian, Johnuel Riobuya, Dion & Joy Umali, Warlito & Doris, Diane, Dorothy, Warren, Shi Laguda, Kyla Ferer, Edgar & Perlita, LJ, Kaikai Billones, Wency, Jordan, John Billones, Nonoy, Caloy & Liza Walet, Inis & Ging, Gigi, Sean Laguda, Helen Laguda, JR Laguda, Baste & Sandro Laguda, Aling Auring, Boboy & Tata, Angel Yumul, Adel & Elmer, Stephanie Obosa, Mel & Noel Aguilar, Aries & Faith Adrales, Lamberto, Thea, Taiga Demillo, Anisa, Derek Acaso, Gilbert Amistoso, Renz Nabor III, Cian Artates, Enting Nabor, Jessa & Prince Wyler Gulas-Gonzales, Kurt Kevin Suarez, Angela & Princess Satoquia, Rodsille Maurillo, Glayza C. Doctor, Yacymarie Cleofas, Christine & Khrishana Otadoy, Marvin & Ferl Cabtalan, Vince “Izhen” Nares, Margaret, Danica M. Ligayo, Angel Bang-oy, Edchell Montales, Ejay Mojemulta, Isaiah Luke Rivera, Justin & Jazzper Morada, Radam Toling, Alvin & Caloy Ragundiaz, Angel Tanedo, Jun Carl, Sharilaine, Sabrina, Ace, Jack, Nathaniel Onasa, Purificacion Onasa, Kaye, Danica Rosales, Fiona Eugenio, Zyrill Montanses, and Lani. 

What struck me most was that ministry in Pingkian was never driven primarily by pastors or programs. It grew because God stirred the hearts of ordinary people.

Women began ministering to women.

People became involved in helping mothers and newborn babies.

Volunteers gathered children through KidsNet.

Young people reached other young people through Friday nights, Saturday programs, ASCEND, 3verlasting, the Student Center, the gym, and countless informal conversations.

Men discipled men.

Families cared for families.

People prayed together, studied Scripture together, worked together, celebrated together, and grieved together.

Again and again I watched God place a burden on someone’s heart and then call them to act on it.

The remarkable thing is that I cannot take credit for any of it.

I did not start these ministries.

God did.

He worked in the hearts of His people and said, “This is what I want you to do.”

And they responded.

The people of Pingkian have done far more for me than I have ever done for them. I had always known academically and theologically that I was called to be the pastor of Pingkian as a community, but I didn’t really know what that looked like until I experienced Pingkian itself.

So it turns out that my collapsed leaf springs are not found in my ministry at Pingkian.

So what is it?

As I continued, my reflections, my thoughts naturally turned to the South East Asian Theological Schools. I have now been involved with SEATS longer than I have lived in the Philippines.

A few years ago, during an accreditation visit, one observation kept surfacing. The accrediting team was concerned that too much responsibility rested on too few people. They were right. Good governance requires clearer boundaries and a broader distribution of responsibility.

Yet I also realized something the accreditation process could never fully measure.

SEATS is a family.

We have certainly built a shared theological vision. Together we have wrestled with what it means for churches to proclaim Jesus Christ as King over every aspect of life, to love God and neighbour, to live out the values of God’s kingdom, and to bear faithful witness in society.

But far more importantly, we have been shaped by one another.

These days, several of us are walking through significant health challenges. Our conversations have naturally become less about programs and projects and more about life, mortality, and the faithfulness of God. Together we have committed ourselves to reflecting daily on Psalm 23 — not merely as a favourite passage, but as fellow travellers walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

Of course we think about the next generation who will carry this vision forward. We pray for them often. But we also recognize that God is still forming us. Even now, He is teaching us what it means to trust the Shepherd.

Looking back, I realize that much of what eventually became Pingkian Family Worship first took shape through SEATS. The way I preach, teach, and think about the church has been profoundly shaped by this community. My prayer is that many others will one day experience the same joy of discovering God’s heart for His church and His world.

So it turns out that my collapsed leaf springs are not found in SEATS.

So where are they?

On Being Ready & Those Left Behind

If my leaf springs had truly collapsed, surely I would see it first in my family.

But of course, one’s thoughts eventually turn toward those who would be left behind — especially the family here. They are understandably not quite as willing to accept the idea that I may be ready to move on. My mother said to me the other day that it may actually be easier for the person who is sick to accept these things than for those who are not. I suspect there is a good deal of truth in that.

If you were to ask me, I would say that my family is perfect.

That’s probably an exaggeration. Like every family, we’ve had our misunderstandings, disappointments, and failures. But when I look back over the years, I wouldn’t change a thing. God has given me exactly the family I needed.

We don’t fight with each other. We don’t really have differences of opinion. We have this bond in this unity that has been formed through a lifetime together. I’m not sure what the secret is. I don’t think that I came into this family thing with a great plan for what the future would look like I didn’t think too much of what it would mean to be a husband. I didn’t think too much of what it would mean to be a father. And I didn’t think too much about what kind of family discipleship program that I needed to implement as our family grew together.

But what I do know is that I would not be the man today if it were not for my family. From Eva, I learned what it means to consider somebody else other than myself in life. To be aware of how other people are feeling about things. To see love for neighbour exemplified through day-to-day experiences to learn what it means to be committed to one another day and day out, even after a lot of life’s experiences, including moving 10,000 km away to another part of the world.

Including experiencing joys and frustrations in church ministry.

Including experiencing wave after wave of culture stress — both in the Philippines and in Canada.

Including learning how to communicate and think in a different language than when the one we grew up in.

Including confronting how much our world has changed from the world that we grew up experiencing in Canada and how sometimes that leads to bumps with other people who have not experienced what we’ve experienced.

Through it all I’ve learned what commitment to a life partner, to a soulmate, to a to the best example of what it means to be a missionary.

I didn’t come into fatherhood with a great plan. I didn’t even know if I would know what to do as a father. I do remember being there for the birth of Emily and for Daniel I do remember how that first experience with them on this side of the womb started something that continues on today.

I’ve learned how to navigate what it means to change seven diapers in one day.

I’ve learned how to navigate what it means when your kids are more popular than the animals we were looking at in the zoo.

I’ve learned what it means to have that protective fierceness that wants to keep my kids from harm, however slight it might be.

I’ve also learned what it means to see my children grow in wisdom and maturity. To see them grow into young people with a deep, heartfelt, genuine, pure conviction that Jesus is their king that they need to live out his values that they need to love God and love, neighbour, and that they need to testify to the truth that they have experienced.

So it turns out that my collapsed, leaf spring isn’t my family. So what is it?

On being ready, but the time has not yet come

As time progressed during my treatment, we discovered that there is hope. We heard account after account of others in the same situation who underwent treatment and continued living a long and full life. So it made me realise that maybe the end isn’t as near as I initially thought.

But then again, since I am still sick, my leaf springs are still collapsed and I need to deal with them.

But just because a leaf spring is broken, doesn’t mean everything is broken. While I may be ready to go at any time that may not in fact be what happens or even be the best option. All of this has also led me to ask: What does God want me to do with the rest of my life, however long or short that may be?

Even though I’ve lived a deeply blessed life and have had many wonderful experiences, are there things I should stop doing so I can devote myself more fully to other things? It has prompted a great deal of reflection.

Initially, when something like this happens, the response tends to remain somewhat intellectual. You have these abstract discussions about life and death and sickness and mortality.

I read a post by Al Hirsch the other day and he had this great summary of some of theologian Hans von Baltasar’s thoughts. The part the struck me was that life only gains meaning when we realise it’s finite nature. “They become, in that moment, irreducibly themselves: a unique person, with a unique mandate, standing before a finite and not merely a limited horizon…. A finite horizon … closes. And in closing, it forces the question of what was actually asked of this particular life, and whether the answer was given.”

How to live that finite life I wonder?

Maybe my collapsed leaf springs have to do with how I view life as a whole?

On Being Ready & The Finite Life 

Honestly, I’ve tended to live my life more as a human doing rather than a human being. Looking at my typical schedule shows a huge pile of things. I remember doing a report to one partnering church in Canada about some of the stuff that Eva and I were doing and immediately after that the worship pastor stood up and said, “You guys are too busy!” I don’t know if I really realized that, but it seems to me that busy-ness is a part of what I think is something that I need to be. I wonder if it stems from my long felt fear that I’m too lazy and so I need to show that I’m doing something. I remember when we first started sending reports into our Edmonton office. My initiation reports were always just a list of the things that I was doing so that people would know I am legitimately doing something here and I’m not slacking off!

But then the other day, I was sitting in the living room with Eva, and suddenly it struck me: I am actually sick.

Up until that moment, I think part of me still assumed this was temporary — that perhaps I simply wasn’t feeling well today, but tomorrow I would feel fine again. And of course, some days are better than others. But then I realized, “Wait a minute. I genuinely have an illness that has been diagnosed, and this illness is affecting my life.”

Being sick opens up a different reality because now all of a sudden I don’t have the energy to do everything and I need to pick and choose the things that I feel are important or not important to do. Making those decisions is very difficult. One of my doctors actually advised that I take and year and focus only on medical care — and that return to Canada for a part of that — but what does that even mean? I don’t understand those words.

Oddly enough, that realization has also become a legitimate invitation to continue becoming the kind of person God wants me to become. I no longer need to minimize things by telling myself, “Maybe tomorrow everything will simply return to normal,” because tomorrow may not, in fact, be normal.
I suppose that is simply part of the reality of being sick.

On Being Ready & Following the infinite Jesus — in light of my own finiteness.

Leaf springs are designed to carry the load of the vehicle but the fact that my car’s leaf springs have flattened out means that too much strain has been placed upon them over the years and they need rehabilitation. When thinking about my life — is it perhaps true that I have taken on weight that Jesus hasn’t asked me to carry?

Jesus bridges the gap — not me. He is both infinite and finite. I am exclusively finite. I was created for a purpose that may not include changing the whole world — but it may include changing a finite part of it.

There are a couple of passages that come to mind when I think about my situation.

At the end of John’s Gospel, Peter and Jesus are talking. Jesus is giving Peter his task — what Peter is to do after Jesus returns to heaven. Peter then asks an interesting question: “What about him?” Scholars are generally convinced he is referring to John, the author of the Gospel. In other words: “What about that guy?”

Jesus responds by saying, “If I want him to live until I come again, how does that concern you? Follow me!” (John‬ ‭21‬:‭22‬).

This tells me that each of us has a purpose. Each of us has a task. Each of us has some finite role to fulfill within this much greater infinite story. We do not have to answer all the world’s questions. We are not called to solve every problem. We do not even need to see the story through to the end. We simply need to fulfill the task God has given us.

God has given me a task, and He has given you a task as well. Sometimes those tasks may overlap; sometimes they may be very different.

There is another passage that comes to mind. In Hebrews 11, there is a long list of the pillars of our faith beginning with the very early ones: Abraham, Moses, Isaiah, and many others. The chapter reflects on the faith of Abraham, Moses, Isaiah, and so many others, and on the contribution each one made to God’s story. But at the end of the chapter, there is a fascinating statement. Even though these people were great examples of faith and powerful witnesses to God’s goodness, they still did not receive the fullness of what God had planned. Why? Because we too — you reading this, me writing this, the people around us — still have a part to contribute to God’s story.

This is actually part of the reason why I included such a long list of names in my testimony above. It’s because my experience in Pingkian reminds me of what the writer Hebrews describing here — people who are faithfully living out the task God has given to them in their daily lives.

That is why I believe the story from the beginning of Scripture to the end of Scripture is one continuous story, not one broken into disconnected segments.

So, the question I am confronted with when faced with my own mortality — when thinking about my finite role in an infinite story — is this: What is my contribution? What does God want me to do today? How does God want me to finish my life, whether that finish comes tomorrow, fifty years from now, or even beyond what I can imagine?

I have given this some thought. There are certain things that I’ve had on my to-do list for quite a while that I haven’t yet accomplished. I think the responsible thing to do is to prepare something that can be left behind. My initial thoughts went to the following:

For many years, I’ve had several writing projects sitting on the back burner. I’m working on a couple of book chapters exploring how the church engages society, and I’ve long wanted to turn my dissertation into a book. Perhaps now is the right time to move those projects to the forefront.

I’ve also thought about mentoring. Beyond my ongoing mentoring of Pastor Renz and Pastor Gibo, several of our younger leaders have expressed a desire to serve as pastors or in church ministry. Walking alongside them and helping prepare the next generation seems like a worthwhile investment of whatever time God gives me.

My colleagues and I have also spent many years helping shape SEATS into the school it is today. Naturally, we think often about the next generation. We want them to inherit something that is concrete. Perhaps this season is an invitation for me to devote more attention to some of the less glamorous administrative work that helps make that possible.

If this is true, then why does teaching always still pop up at the front of my mind? Can I still teach?

One of the unexpected joys of walking through this season has been reflecting on my life. As I think about Pingkian today, one thing brings me enormous joy. Almost none of the ministries that now flourish there began with me. KidsNet, youth ministry, women’s ministry, ASCEND, Young Stewards, the prayer meetings — all of these exist because God placed different burdens on different hearts.

All of these things exist because God didn’t call me to do the entire task but because he called each one of us to our own specific, unique task.

The wonderful thing is that everything doesn’t depend on me!

One of the great joys I have as I look beyond where we are today is realizing that God is in control. God is guiding what is happening in this church. And he will continue to be our guide in Pingkian in the future.

And that brings me both happiness and deep joy.

On Re-Arching My Leaf Springs

The leaf springs on my car have been re-arched. The old ones have been strengthened by a new addition. Now the car rides great and is ready for the next years of carrying the loads they were intended to bear. But as I mentioned at the beginning of this journey, when Pablo first mentioned my leaf springs, I thought we were talking about my car.

It turns out we weren’t.

Over the past weeks I have reflected on my faith, my bucket list, my ministry, my family, and my own mortality. One by one I discovered that none of these were actually the problem. If anything, they have been some of God’s greatest gifts to me.

Instead, what had slowly flattened over the years was something else.

Somewhere along the way, I had begun living more as a human doing than as a human being. I had quietly assumed responsibilities that were never mine to carry. I had forgotten that Jesus bridges the gap — not me. My role has never been to accomplish everything, solve everything, or finish everything. My role is simply to faithfully fulfill the finite task God has given me within His infinite story.

And to remember Jesus bridges the gap — not me.

Perhaps that is what it means to re-arch my leaf springs.

Not to stop serving.

Not to stop teaching.

Not to stop dreaming.

But to remember that I am finite, while Jesus is not.

Regardless of how long this journey turns out to be, there are blessings in travelling a little more slowly. I have begun to notice things I might otherwise have missed. I have more opportunity to stop and smell the roses, to enjoy the scenery, to sit with people instead of merely moving on to the next task. The journey itself begins to matter more than racing toward the destination.

Perhaps that is part of becoming more of a human being than merely a human doing.

And perhaps it’s a part of what it means to not carry the weight I wasn’t designed to carry?

So let me leave you with the same question Pablo unintentionally asked me:

Have your leaf springs flattened out?

Have you gradually taken on weight that Jesus never asked you to carry?

If they have, what might God be inviting you to restore?

Photo of my leaf springs at Pablo’s shop taken by me.

My wife, Eva, is now blogging.

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I am pretty excited today because my wife’s new blog, Beneath My Shell, went live just a few moments ago. Eva blogs her thoughts about her life as a missionary midwife living in the Philippines. Here is what she has to say about what you can expect:

My name is Eva Fast.

I am a Canadian missionary with the Baptist General Conference of Canada. I have lived with my family in Metro Manila, Philippines since 1999. My background is nursing and I fell in love with midwifery in 2007. Throughout the years I’ve been involved with over 700 natural births. Although I’m not practicing midwifery at this time, my passion for women and their stories remains. I believe women are stronger together with God as their foundation.

Please head on over a take a look at what Eva has to say. You will love her first story!

When you get there, don’t forget to subscribe so that you can get timely updates!

Image by Luma Pimentel on Unsplash.

Sakay: What is it like to travel the densest metropolitan area in the entire world? Here is what a typical journey looks like in my community

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It’s always a challenge to drive by a wet market. Because it’s a destination for so many people, that means (surprisingly enough) that there will be lots of people there! People also means traffic, the bane of most inhabitants of Metro Manila. The road from our house was pretty clear for the first while. In fact, I commented to Eva that there were only a few people on it. I guess leaving just after 8AM meant we missed the Monday morning rush. Normally when we get to the main corner, I avoid a left turn because not only does it lead to the market, it also goes past an elementary school, a mall, and a grocery store. During old normal times, driving past a school is always a bit touch and go because if you happen to hit a time when kids are either going to, or coming from school you can expect a rather long wait. It does help develop patience, however. 

Today, however, we needed to visit a drug store right beside the market to pick up some medical supplies to help a friend. Our trip went fairly quickly and arrived at the drug store in good time. I did have trouble parking for two reasons. The first is because there were no more slots left in front of the store. The second was because there was a line of people standing on the street in front of the store. Lest you think that there was a sale on and people were lining up for that, I need to tell you that most people in Metro Manila do not drive their own vehicles. Rather they take public transportation. These people were lined up to take the next available ride to their destination.

Public transportation in the Philippines is both convenient and complex — at least to a certain extent — because it’s possible to take a ride from basically your front doorstep all the way to wherever you want to go in the Philippines. Here is what a typical journey looks like.

Before leaving home, I gather everything that I need for the journey — keys, coins, handkerchief, hat — and then head downstairs. Then head back upstairs for my face mask. Once I get my shoes on, I head out the gate, then go back inside to get my umbrella. 

[If you are unaware of what an umbrella is, here is a simple explanation: An umbrella is a somewhat cumbersome device that if you take it with you it doesn’t rain but if you leave it at home — saying to yourself after looking at the sky, ‘It’s not going to rain today’ — then rain is guaranteed.]

As I walk down the lane from our house to the street, I see a green tricycle stop and signal to me if I want a ride. A raised finger eyebrow is all that’s needed to engage their services while a wave of the hand means, ‘No.’ (If I choose to not hire the roving tricycle, I can always walk a few steps to the corner where there is an official terminal for yellow tricycles). For the uninitiated, a tricycle is a motorcycle with a covered sidecar attached. Passengers can either sit in the sidecar, which is equipped with 3 seats, or sit sidesaddle behind the driver (2 more seats). In our area there are three main tricycle associations, each with their own colours. 

The tricycle payment system is rather complex. If you hire a tricycle that is in the terminal lineup it costs P25 for a ride out to the main road. If the tricycle is not full, the driver is allowed to pick up other passengers on the way (who pay P10 each), with the proviso that the initial hire gets to sit in the best seat.  

Once we get out to the main street, about 1.6km away, the tricycle pulls over to the side and we get out and pay the driver. There is a small market area here, too, in case we need to get something on the way home. But since we are going further we head around the corner to where the jeepney awaits. If the front seat is full, we need to board from the door in the rear, entering crouched over we make our way to the front and hope there is room on one of the two bench seats that run down each side. On the rare occasion that the jeep is full, it’s possible for men to hang from the back (sorry ladies, you will have to wait for space on the inside). 

Payment for the jeepney is also interesting, if less complex than that of the tricycle. The base fare is P9 and increases are based on distance travelled. When unsure it’s possible to simply ask how much it will cost from one point to another. When it’s time to pay, you simply say something like, “Bayad ho” [“Here’s my payment”] and reach your hand toward the driver with your money in it. One of your fellow passengers will grab your money and keep passing it forward. When it gets to the front, the driver will ask, “Ilan?” [“For how many?”] and then pass back the appropriate change (if necessary). 

Once at your destination, simply say something like, “Para ho sa tabi” [“Please stop at the side”] and the jeepney will stop for you. Exit is through the same door you entered. If you are going further, you can always take a bus, either to somewhere else within the city or to somewhere else in the country. The rule of thumb is, the smaller the vehicle the higher the fare. Thus tricycles are the most expensive and busses are the cheapest. 

Apart from this there are also airconditioned options such as taxis, FXs, busses, and the LRT/MRT. But we need to save those journeys for another day. 

How do you get around where you live? What unique features does your public transportation system have? Please let us know in the comments below.

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Image is my own. 

Eskinita: How living in less space can make your life more fulfilling

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Dark. Narrow. Uneven. Convoluted. Scary. Necessary. Full of life! The cries ring out revealing the fact that people want to connect with you: “Hello.” “Good morning.” “Makiraan po!” “Where are you going?” “Where do you live?” Eskinita are the lifeblood of Pingkian, the area in which I live. You may not notice them if you aren’t previously aware their presence because it doesn’t even seem like anyone can fit down them. But without them, life in Pingkian couldn’t go on, and understanding this can help make your life more fulfilling.

Eskinita is a word that always reminds me of the English word “skinny,” perhaps because that’s what they are. In reality, it comes from the Spanish word meaning “corner.” Since land is at a premium, in perhaps the most densely-populated area of the world, houses are built as close to the property line as possible. The spaces in between are the eskinita. Pingkian is by no means the only place where this happens. I have walked eskinita in Manila, Ho Chi Minh City, and Hanoi. Because houses are so small, life is lived on eskinita. Without eskinita no one could get to their house. No one could go to work or school in the morning. But eskinta is more than simply a means to and end.

Eskinita is stepping over the curb then three steps down. There is an initial sense of invading someone’s privacy when you first enter, realising that people’s homes front, not onto the street, but onto the eskinita. Scootch over to the side as someone passes by. People pass carrying large water jugs. The sound of an engine warns of an approaching motorcycle, making one wonder how it can even navigate! Stopping at the crossroads to sure we each know where the other one is going before moving on. Laundry tubs hang ready outside doorways. A cement bench outside a home waits for someone to pass the day sitting there. An open door swings out into the eskinita temporarily blocking my passage. Two young boys sit in the corner playing Mobile Legends on their cellphones. A lady in an alcove buys something from one of the many variety stores in the area. Many people set up a small store — or sell things like Avon or Tupperware — in order to help make ends meet. Strings of sachets containing every known liquid hang from the ceiling, drinks of all kinds, ice cream if you are lucky. A vendor walks by, his bucket filled with foods prepared earlier that day and suitable for snacking on. A friend used to sell banana-que, which is a deep-fried banana, coated with caramelized brown sugar on a BBQ stick. Delicious! Having walked each one everyday, my friend was a eskinita expert. A bicycle, loaded with wares, is stopped in the middle as a woman decides whether or not to buy a piece of chain –  to use a leash perhaps? – a kargador waiting patiently to pass puts his load down; me, less patient, finding a way through.

Eskinita is bright blue PVC water pipes winding their ways along the ground, turning suddenly into the various houses — sometimes ending suddenly; cut off for who knows what reason? Rows of water meters silently recording consumption — when they are spinning fast it means a leak somewhere, when stopped it means they are turned off to save that same water from leaking. Dodging powerlines — more like interior wires strung up rather haphazardly, often just at head height — turns into an artform that you didn’t think you would ever need to master. Canals, or drainage ditches, sometimes along the edge, sometimes down the middle, sometimes non-existent carry water from various sources somewhere else. Videoke booms from somewhere near, accompanied by a voice — sometimes talented, often merely energetic.

Eskinita is sometimes cement, sometimes asphalt, and sometimes spongy ground beside a stream of black runoff that runs outside my friend Mang Pio’s house — evidence of the clogged drainage pipes hidden below. Mang Pio owns a fairly large chuck of land in the middle of a gaggle of houses. At 90 years old he is a fount of stories and jokes. I stop and chat with Edgar, who is doing laundry in a couple of 5-gallon pails in front of his place. Mang Pio, in his kindness, has allowed Edgar to stay on his property. He has a small place that the word “lean-to” wouldn’t adequately describe — more a hodge podge of various chunks of wood, plastic, and other light materials all precariously positioned to provide some semblance of shelter. Many homes along the eskinita are not like his, however. More and more I see multi-storey concrete structures, complete with all the comforts of home.

Eskinita is where animals abound. Dogs. Cats. Rats. Roosters. Chickens. Even the occasional rabbit. Sometimes caged but usually running free. The cats are perhaps the most resilient. Many times they may have seemingly fatal injuries but yet there they are, day after day, ekeing out a living. I guess that’s why they are said to have nine lives! The roosters (in reality fighting cocks) are the most cared for, receiving special feeds, daily grooming, and love from their owners.

Eskinita is where people are. Children playing hopscotch. Retirees passing the day outside their homes. Friends chatting. Men caring for their fighting cocks. People watering plants and/or the eskinita itself — one for growth the other to reduce dust. Small business owners selling fish of all varieties. Chicken. Pork. Rarely, beef. Vegetables. Barbershops. Internet cafes. Elderly women watching the world go by. And in the mornings mothers sunning their babies.

Eskinita is missing something, however. What is missing is space. Space that separates houses from one another. Space taken up by fences to ensure privacy. Space with garages, with doors that go up, then down, keeping occupants hidden from one another. There is no emptiness. No empty streets. No empty houses for most of the day while people are at work.

Eskinita is connection. A shared identity. A life living in proximity with others.

What do you notice about your community? Why not let the rest of us know in the comments below?

Remember sharing is what friends do.

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Image was taken on my iPhone.

ECQ na naman! “Kailan ba Panginoon?” o “Nasaan ka ba, Panginoon?”

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English

ECQ[1] na naman! Dahil kay Delta Variant ng COVID-19 itinaas muli ang ECQ sa QC. Ito ay para sa ating kaligtasan. Pero, nakakalungkot diba? Akala natin na ok na tayo dahil higit pa sa isang taong nag social distancing, naghugas kamay, nag suot ng facemask at shield, nag stay-at-home pa. At lahat tayo ay ready magpabakuna pag oras natin. Pero mukhang wala sa atin kamay ang solution sa problema nito.

Sa mga ganitong panahon, naalala natin ang sinabi ng Panginoon sa mga Israelita noong Jeremias 29:11, “Alam ko kung paano ko tutparin ang mga plano ko para sa kabutihan n’yo at hindi sa kasmaan n’yo, at plano para bigyan kayo ng pag-asa na magkaroon kayo ng mabuting kinabukasan.” Napatanong tayo kapag naalala natin ito ng “Kailan ba Panginoon?” o “Nasaan ka ba, Panginoon?”

Kinakailangan natin balikan ang konteksto nitong verse sa Biblia upang sagutin ang tanong natin. 
Sa panahon kasi ni Jeremias, hindi maganda ang kalagayan ng bansang Israel dahil sa kanilang mga kasalanan. Ang biling ng Panginoon kay Jeremias ay maipahayag sa mga taong bayan kung ano ang plano ng Panginoon sa kanila. Sabi kasi ng Panginoon na dadahihin sila sa Babylonia bilang parusa ng kanilang mga kasalanan. 70 na taon ang panahon ng kanilang pagkabihag na binigay ng Panginoon sa pamamagitan ni Jeremias. Pero ayaw maniwala ng mga taong bayan at ng mga ibang mga false prophets kaya sabi nila na hindi sila tatagal sa Babylonia. Mga dalawang linggo lamang ang panahon ng pagkabihag doon. 

Kahit pinaparusahan sila ng Panginoon, ok sa Kanya na mawawala sila sa Lupang Pangako for 70 years dahil kapag nasa Babylonia nasa kalooban pa rin sila ng Panginoon. Kahit tayo ay nasa ECQ or anumang antas ng restrictions, nasa kalooban pa rin tayo ng Panginoon!

Unang una, sasabihin ko sa inyo na kahit naniniwala ako na ang COVID-19 ay isang masamang bagay, hindi ako naniniwala na ang COVID-19 ay isang parusa ng Panginoon. Pero naniniwala ako na hindi normal ang pagkakasakit. Noong nilikha ng Panginoon ang sanlibutan hindi pa kasama doon ang sakit (Genesis 1:31). Ang sakit ay dahil sa kasalanan ng mga tao. Kaya may mga sakit ang mundo natin ngayon pero may darating din na panahon kung kailan mawala ang mga sakit sa mundo (Pahayag 21:4). 

Meron tayong pwedeng matutunan mula sa sinasabi ni Jeremias patungki sa mga bagay na hindi normal. 

Medyo kakaiba ang sinabi ng Panginoon sa mga Israelita. Imbis na maghintay lamang ang kanilang pagbalik, dapat makikisalamuha sila sa bago nilang lugar. Magiging bahagi dapat sila ng Babylonia — “Magtayo kayo ng mga bahay at doon kayo tumira. Magtanim kayo at kumain ng inyong ani. Magasawa kayo at nang nagkaanak kayo.”

Hindi tumitigil ang buhay kapag hindi normal ang ating kalagayan. Hindi pwedeng magsabi ng “pag maayos na ang buhay ko tsaka ako ako kikilos.” Sabi sa atin ng Panginoon, “Kumilos na kayo kahit hindi pa ayos ang kalagayan mo.” 

At hindi lang yun. Dapat din “Tumulong kayo para sa kabutihan at kaunlaran ng lungsod sa pinagdalhan sa inyo.” Ano ba’ng ibig sabihin?

  • Maging masunurin tayo sa mga batas patungkol sa pandemya kasi “para sa kabutihan at kaunlaran ng lungsod.” 
  • Mag hugas ang ating mga kamay, mag-social distancing tayo, mag suot tayo ng facemask at face shield, manatili tayo sa bahay kapag kinakailangan, at mag work from home tayo kung pwede. 
  • Magpa lista tayo sa pagpapapbakuna at pag dating ng panahon magpabakuna tayo. 
  • Ipananalangin natin ang mga taong namamahala sa COVID-19 response ng bansa. 
  • Tulungan natin ang mga taong nahirapan dahil sa pandemya. 

Pagkatapos ng sinabi nito, sinabi ng Panginoon, “Alam ko kung paano ko tutuparin ang mga plano ko para sa kabutihan n’yo at hindi kasamaan nyo.” Ibig sabihin, depende din sa atin pagsunod ang pagtupad ng mga plano ng Diyos. 

Meron kasing tao na binabaha ang bahay. Kaya umakyat sa bubongan nya at nagdasal, “Panginoon iligtas mo ako sa baha.” 

Meron dumaan na rescue mula sa baranggay. “Sakay na po kayo para maligtas kayo!” 

“Ok lang ako. Ililigtas kasi ako ng Panginoon” ang kanyang tugon. 

Meron dumaan na taong naka-banca. “Sakay na po kayo para maligtas kayo!” 

“Ok lang ako. Ililigtas kasi ako ng Panginoon” ang kanyang tugon. 

May dumaan na helicopter nang lumalapit sa kanya. “Sakay na po kayo para maligtas kayo!” 

“Ok lang ako. Ililigtas kasi ako ng Panginoon” ang kanyang tugon. 

Sa wakas nalunod sya sa baha at nag-puntang langit. Pagdating nya doon, nag-tanong sya sa Panginoon. “Lord, bakit hindi mo sinagot ang aking hilining sa iyo? Bakit hindi mo ako niligtas sa baha?”

“Ano ba?” sabi ng Panginoon. “Nagpadala ako ng rescue, ng banca, at ng helicopter pero ayaw mong sumakay!”

Minsan kasi naghahanap tayo ng milagro pero ang tugon ng Panginoon ay ang mga normal na bagay. 

Paano ka bang sinasagot ng Panginoon ngayon panahon ng ECQ muli? 

Palaging malugod na tinatanggap ang puna.

Ginagawa ng mga kaibigan ang pag-share. 

Larawan ni Erik Mclean sa Unsplash. 
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[1] Sa mga hindi nakakaalam, ang ECQ ay Enhanced Community Quarantine. ang ECQ ay ang pinaka-mataas na antas ng anti-COVID-19 measures na pwedeng ilagay ng Philippine Government. 

It’s ECQ again! “When, Lord?” or “Where are you, Lord?”

It’s ECQ [1] again! Due to Delta Variant of COVID-19 the ECQ was raised again in Quezon City. Even though it’s for our safetly, it’s sad isn’t it? We thought we were ok because for more than one year we have social distanced, washed our hands, worn a facemask and faceshield, and stayed-at-home. And we are all ready to get vaccinated when it’s our time. But it seems like things are out of our control. 

At times like this, we remember what the Lord said to the Israelites in Jeremiah 29:11, “I know how to carry out my plans for your good and not for your evil, and plan to give you of hope for a better future” (God’s Word). This makes us ask the question, “When, Lord?” or “Where are you, Lord?”

We need to go back to the context of this biblical verse to answer our question. In Jeremiah’s day, the nation of Israel was in a bad state because of their sins. The Lord’s command to Jeremiah was to reveal to the people what the Lord had planned for them. The Lord said that they would be taken to Babylon as punishment for their sins. The period of their captivity given by the Lord through Jeremiah was 70 years. But the people and the other false prophets did not want to believe so they said that they would not stay in Babylonia. They said the captivity there would only be about two weeks.

Even if the Lord was punishing them, it is ok with Him that they will be gone from the Promised Land for 70 years because when they are in Babylonia they are still in the will of the Lord. Even if we are on ECQ or any level of restrictions, we are still in the will of the Lord!

First of all, I will tell you that even though I believe that COVID-19 is a bad thing, I do not believe that COVID-19 is a punishment of the Lord. But I do believe the illness is not normal. When the Lord created the world, disease was not included (Genesis 1:31). Sickness is due to sin. So while there are diseases in our world today there will also come a time when the diseases of the world will disappear (Revelation 21:4).

We can learn something from what Jeremiah says about things that are not normal.

The Lord said something different to the Israelites. Instead of just waiting for their return, they should socialize in their new place. They were to be part of Babylon: “Build houses and live in them. Plant and eat your crops. Get married and have children.”

Life does not stop when our condition is not normal. It is not possible to say “when my life is in order I will act.” The Lord tells us, “Act now, even when things aren’t perfect.”

And that’s not all. You must also “Contribute for the good and prosperity of the city to which you are brought.” What does that mean?

  • Let us be obedient to the laws regarding pandemics because “for the good and development of the city.”
  • Wash our hands, wear a facemask and face shield, stay home when necessary, and work from home if possible.
  • Let’s make a list of vaccinations and when the time comes we will be vaccinated.
  • Pray for those in charge of the pandemic restrictions, that God may continue give them wisdom. 
  • Find ways to help those who are in need because of the pandemic. 

After saying all of this, the Lord then says, “I know how to carry out my plans for your good and not your evil.” That is, the fulfillment of God’s plans also depends on our obedience.
There was a man whose house was flooding. So he climbed on his roof and prayed, “Lord save me from the flood.”

Soon after that a rescue vehicle came from the local government unit. “Get in and be saved!”

“I’m fine. The Lord will save me” was his response.

Someone passed by in a small boat. “Get in and be saved!”

“I’m fine. The Lord will save me” was his response.

A helicopter passed by as it approached him. “Get in and be saved!”

“I’m fine. The Lord will save me” was his response.

He finally drowned in the flood and went to heaven. When he got there, he asked the Lord.

“Lord, why didn’t you answer my request to you? Why didn’t you save me from the flood?”

“What?” saith the Lord. “I sent a rescue vehicle, a small boat, and a helicopter but you want to get in any of them!”

Sometimes we want a miracle but the Lord’s response is something more normal.

How is the Lord answering you now during this ECQ repeat?

Feedback is always welcome.

Friends do the sharing.

Photo by Erik Mclean at Unsplash.
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[1] For those who don’t know, ECQ is Enhanced Community Quarantine. ECQ is the highest level of anti-COVID-19 measures that the Philippine Government can put in place.

Emic vs Etic: Understanding how insider & outsider perspectives interact when doing theology. An example from the Philippines.

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Cross-cultural interactions are a part of my everyday life. Is there a theology of cross-cultural interaction? There have been many. Unfortunately they don’t always have good results. Take for example the whole residential school debacle in Canada that started from faulty theology codified in the doctrine of discovery but stemming from long-seated ideas of cultural superiority.

Churches quite often have deep seated assumptions about “the world” that aren’t in fact true. Case in point. When I was in Grade 5 our class received a Gideons New Testament (is that still a thing). Afterward we were all talking in the boot room about the NT and I said to one of my classmates, “What are you going to do? Rip it up?” He looked at me like I was crazy. What possessed me to say that? I had been told my whole life in Sunday school that the world was opposed to Christians. Guess what? That wasn’t true after all. It seems that I as a Christian had assumptions that were untested.

So how can we move away from assumptions towards actual empirical data about the world around us? Last week I wrote about how the church can partner with the world in things like this. Some commented that the post was short on the “How” so I thought that I might give a more concrete example. We need to develop ways to better understand the world to make sure that we are asking and answering the right questions – to make sure that the message we exegete from the Bible is presented in a relevant way to those who are not yet followers of Jesus Christ. Anthropology can help us understand that. 

The following comes from planning some conversations I had with Filipino men about their masculinity and religiosity. I had heard that men are less religious than women but wanted to find out for myself if that was true. I decided to plan some research that tried to discover what is called the insider viewpoint.

Because many religious systems in the Philippines are from external sources, and because male participation in those systems is universally identified as being lesser than that of women, it is important to discover how Filipino males have constructed their understandings of pagbabalik-loob, pagkalalaki, and maka-Diyos. This calls for an emic approach to the problem rather than an etic one. Oxford defines emic as “studying or describing a particular language or culture in terms of its internal elements and their functioning rather than in terms of any existing external scheme.” Etic is defined as “studying or describing a particular language or culture in a way that is general, non-structural, and objective in its perspective.” Thus, an etic approach looks at the problem from outside, while the emic approach looks at the problem from inside. 

Origins of the Emic/Etic concept. Pike (1967) defined the terms etic and emic as “etic viewpoint studies behavior as from outside of a particular system,” while the “emic viewpoint results from studying behavior as from inside the system” (p.37). Pike wanted to move from etics to emics.

There is a debate about the validity of using an emic approach in seeking to understand a culture on its own terms. In fact, this debate is behind the development of ethnoscience worldwide.  What is often missed in the debate is the reality that all forms of science are emic in that whatever frameworks or structures are developed are developed from the emic perspectives of a specific culture. They merely become etic once applied to another culture.  

Bennagen (1980) discusses the “Asianization” of anthropology “to help strengthen Asia’s rightful claim to its heritage as well as to its visions of man, society and culture” (p. 1; see also Mendoza, 2016).  

Geertz (Geertz 1973b) championed what some have called an “actor-centered view is central to Geertz’s work, however, it was never developed into an actual theory or model” (Hudson et al, 2009). 

Harris (1976) adapted Pike’s terms. For him, emic was the focus on a single culture while etic was the “comparison of two or more cultures as a means of identifying common characteristics” (Olive, 2014). Harris saw emics and etics as equally valid – there was no advantage to be gained from an etic approach and thus no need to try to discover the emic.

He has an example the difference between an emic and an etic understanding of male to female cattle ratios in India. Approaching the issue from an emic perspective, Harris says that locals identify the causes of higher mortality of male calves is due to a variety of naturally-occurring causes. Approaching the issue from an etic perspective, however, causes Harris to ascertain that higher male calf mortality is due to the locals’ manipulation of naturally-occurring events that are economically determined. Harris’ conclusion is that by relying solely on an emic approach, the researcher misses the etic realities of what he calls “bovicide.”  

I suggest that another factor may be at play here. Harris’ emic reasons for the ratio include “that males ate less than the females…. because they were not permitted to stay at the other’s teats for more than a few seconds” (p. 33). I find the words “not permitted” to be telling because here we have the locals themselves giving the reasons for why the male calves die. It seems that Harris didn’t follow up on this clue to discover what else the locals might want to tell him about this process.  

An indigenous approach here might be helpful. Enriquez (1994) discusses pakikipagkapwa, or Filipino interpersonal relations, as divided into two categories — Ibang-Tao [“outsider”] and Hindi-Ibang-Tao [“literally “not-‘other’-person” and therefore an insider”] each in turn divided into several other stages (see also Pe-Pua et al, 2000; Lapiz, 2010, refers to these as Tagalabas [“From the outside”] and Tagaloob [“From the inside”], respectively). Information passed from one person to another varies based upon the relationship between the two parties. If the two parties are in the Ibang-Tao category the informant will seek to pass on information that they perceive to be what the researcher wants to hear. If the two parties are Hindi-Ibang-Tao, then the information passed on more accurately reflects the reality. Pe-Pua et al recommend that “the first level under Hindi-Ibang-Tao, which is pakikipagpalalgayan-loob (level of mutual trust, understanding, rapport) should be reached, at the minimum, in order to be assured of good quality data” (Pe-Pua et al, 2000, p. 59).  

Another hallmark of Filipino communication is pahiwatig [“hint”], or indirect communication. According to Maggay (2002) “ang pahiwatig marahil ang pinakalaganap at maaaring masabing pinakabuod ng ating kulturang pangkomunikasyon” [“the hint is perhaps the most widespread and possibly the best summary of our culture of communication”] (p. 24). It is also defined as “hindi tuwirang pagpapahayag sa isang bagay, idea, o saloobin” [“a thing, idea, or thought is not revealed in a direct manner”] (UPDF) or as “di tuwirang pagpapaabot ng mga mensahe” [“messages are not delivered in a straight way”] (Maggay, 2002, p. 24). Information is revealed over a period of time and is not given all at once. The pahiwatig is an invitation for the researcher to dig deeper to find out the truth that is not yet fully revealed. Jocano (1999) speaks of a multilevel process of communication starting with pahiwatig [“hinted at”], moving through pabatid [“informed about”], and finally into pahayag [“revealed”]. Thus discovering truth in the Philippine context is an extended affair as layer after layer of truth is slowly revealed as the relationship between the researcher and the researched draw ever closer together. 

Now granted, Harris’ example is from India that may have different cultural norms from the Philippines, but that doesn’t belie the fact that there was “truth” in the emic investigation that Harris perhaps didn’t explore fully. Harris’ own example shows that the locals did reveal the cause of the ratio (i.e. “males …. not permitted” to eat) but there is no evidence that Harris pursued the conversation to it’s fullest extent.  

Thus in Harris’ example above, the farmers themselves are revealing the reality behind the ratio differences in an indirect way and inviting him to discover more through further communication.  

I argue that an indigenous approach to the issue would have led to Harris’ realization that the locals were in-fact telling him the reasons for cattle ratios but that his framework was unable to adequately aid him in this discovery. Thus his use of an etic framework allowed him to see a disconnect between the ideology (killing cattle is prohibited) and economy (cows are more economically advantageous than bulls) of his subjects in India. Imagine the study Harris could have had in discovering in partnership with the locals their strategies for dealing with the needs of both their ideological system and their economic system!  

The emic approach and Philippine studies of masculinity. The emic approach is common in Philippine studies.  

Pingol (2001), in her study of Ilocano men, states that she want to focus “more on emic rather than etic – the men’s understanding of themselves, how they construct themselves, how they remain men in their own eyes, or as viewed by their relatives and their community” (p. 16). 

Zialcita (2005) also takes an emic approach because it “looks at the data from the point of view of the actor; it seeks to understand in their own terms the reasons advanced by the actor for his thinking and acting” (Kindle location 1924).  

Mojares (2006), in his discussion of trying to recreate the way early Filipinos thought, struggled with the pull of emic and etic. He talked of trying to find a middle ground between “a facile universalizing and the exoticizing of difference; between the location out of which we are speaking and that ‘nation’ we are moving towards; between the need for political constructions and the awareness of their fictive character; between the claim to moral ascendancy and the practical requirements of power; and between the importance of the ‘native’s point of view’ and the dangers of turning it into a fetish” (p. 7)  

Moving into our present study, Houtman offers insights into understanding religiosity without using the frameworks developed by organized religions.  

Emic, Etic and our Problem. Houtman (2014) suggests that the study of religion can benefit from an emic approach. Rather than focusing on general definitions researchers should instead “let those under study decide whether and how religion is ‘real’ or ‘unreal’. It is they who can tell researchers in what sense they consider themselves ‘religious’ and/or ‘spiritual’, what exactly this means for them, and whether and how all this drives their behavior beyond the strictly private realm” (p. 20).  

There are in existence in the Philippines a variety of sets of preconceived notions of what it means to be a man or to even be a godly man. These have been formulated in the various world religions that have taken hold in the Philippines, especially Christianity and Islam. Christianity can be further subdivided into two sometimes-opposing conceptualizations that need to be understood on their own. A look at the intersections between maka-Diyos, and pagkalalaki would benefit from an emic approach. However, this study’s desire for an emic approach to the issue of Filipino male spirituality[1] is not so much a desire to ignore external structures and definitions and to favor indigenous structures and systems. Rather it is based on a desire to discover what, in fact, these indigenous emic structures and systems are. To date there has been very little work done to develop a philosophy or a theology connected with Filipino male spirituality. 

Criticisms of Emic-Etic approaches. There are no pure cultures and thus no pure emic-etic divide. All cultures use their own frameworks to evaluate the things they experience and sometimes these frameworks are in an etic form and sometimes in an emic form.

As Guillermo (2003) said, having too much focus on the emic removes any reason for interpretation to begin with. “The complete unification of the consciousness of the social scientist with an increasingly transparent object of analysis would be none other than the end of hermeneutics itself.” Which raises the question of for whom is the interpretation? It implies a cross-cultural facet that is essential to the process. Certainly someone within the culture is in no need of a hermeneutical framework but also someone who is completely outside of a culture can use no other framework than the one she brings with her. Of course, this is beside the point that no culture is pure or unsullied from outside influences. The key is finding a balance between the two that allows each side to see the other’s perspective and perhaps gain some understanding on their own. Thus, there must be a dialogic aspect to research. 

But the fact that there is cultural relativity (ala Franz Boas) implies that some level of hermeneutics is needed in understanding what one sees. For example, the sight of two men walking down the street hand-in-hand has different meanings in different parts of the world. Growing up in Canada two males holding hands was undeniable evidence that the two were in a homosexual relationship. However in the Philippines best friends not only hold hands but walk unashamedly down the street with their arms around one another shoulders. It is only through dialogue between etic and emic actors that one can determine the hermeneutical key. The goal of balancing the emic with the etic guides this research into a specific series of frameworks. 

I propose that seeking the insider view is a key part of church ministry. Only by having conversations with others can we discover our own blind spots and find ways to connect in meaningful ways with others.

Feedback is always welcome.

Sharing is what friends do.

Image by Brett Jordan on Unsplash.

1. The history of term Filipino is long and storied and beyond the scope of this paper. Coupled with this is the terms’ grammatical gender: Filipino refers to males and Filipina refers to females. Thus the term “Filipino male spirituality” is technically redundant. However since this redundancy is not necessarily seen nor understood outside of the Philippine context, for clarity this paper will use the term Filipino to denote people from the Philippines, regardless of their gender. 

References:

Bennagen, P. L. (1980). The Asianization of Anthropology. Asian Studies, 18, 1-26.

Enriquez, V. G. (1994). Pagbabangong-dangal: Indigenous psychology and cultural empowerment. Quezon City: Akademya ng Kultura at Sikolohiyang Pilipino.

Geertz, C. (1973). Religion as a cultural system. In C. Geertz, The interpretation of cultures: selected essays. London: Fontana Press.

Guillermo, R. (2003). Exposition, Critique and New Directions for Pantayong Pananaw. Kyoto Review of Southeast Asia, 3.

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Pagkalalaki at Maka-Diyos: A Dialogical Look at Masculinity and Religiosity among Filipino Males | A Zoom Webinar

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In November 2020 I was invited to give a lecture for the 60th Anniversary of the University of the Philippines, Diliman’s Asian Center. My lecture was based on my 2019 PhD Dissertation that was entitled “Pagkalalaki at Maka-Diyos: A dialogic look at Masculinity and Religiosity among Filipino Males.”

My study, conducted as part of my time in the UP Tri College PhD Philippine Studies program, examined how Filipino men understand and express religiosity (maka-Diyos) and masculinity (pagkalalaki) and how these two concepts inform our understanding of religious change (pagbabalik-loob). Central to this research is how the dynamics between pagkalalaki and maka-Diyos is mediated by factors such as family status, gender, class, national advocacy, religious congregation, age, chronotope; and how these, as a whole, shape the lives of Filipino men.

I used a Bakhtinian dialogic framework mediated through Walls’ transmission and appropriation concepts and de Mesa’s pagbabalik-loob and cultural appreciation in examining Filipino male perceptions of pagkalalaki and maka-Diyos.

This study debunks popular misconceptions about the Filipino male’s lack of maka-Diyos. Men’s identity as Filipinos is not in danger due to lack of maka-Diyos and men reveal an understanding of maka-Diyos that informs national discourse. Men are active in regular religious activities. They see these concepts as important. They have a complex epistemological process that includes ancient, communal, revelatory, and empirical sources. This leads them to believe in and respond to the supernatural. They understand what their pagkalalaki means and how to express it, but concepts of religion and religiosity may or may not play a role in these beliefs. It also leads them to find solutions to the problems and challenges that they face in the world.

You can’t sign up anymore because the event is over, but you can watch the lecture here.

Do I pastor a church or a community?

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Photo by Mauro Mora on Unsplash.

Several diverse ideas helped shape the approach I take to pastoring.

A key Bible story for me is the story of the Father and his two sons (often called the Prodigal son) that is found in Luke 15:11-32. One of the key parts of the story for me is the fact that there are only three characters, which for me means that in God’s perspective all people are a part of his family. Some — like the prodigal — leave the family and then return, while others — like the older brother — appear to initially have everything together but then end up outside at the end of the story. Note that the father extends every effort to welcome both sons back home. This has shaped how I feel God views everyone in the world — they are all his children who he wants to return home.

Dwayne Harms was a friend I had growing up who ended up being a pastor at Midale Baptist Church in Saskatchewan, Canada. I had a chance to visit him after he had been there for a few years and he said something that has stuck with me since then. He talked about how being the Baptist pastor in a small town meant that he was more than just the Baptist pastor, he was the town’s pastor. This has also helped shape my philosophy of the church and it’s connection with the community.

David Fitch a few years ago said, “There is no dividing line between the church and the world. The church may precede the world today, yet it is only living today what the world itself is ultimately called to in the future. The church in essence bleeds into the world ever calling it to its true destiny. As a foretaste of the renewal of all creation, the church cannot be discontinuous with creation. It cannot be discontinuous with the world because the church is in the process of becoming that very world renewed in Christ. Neither can it merely blend into the world for then all Mission and renewal is lost. Its presence will be in, among and for the world even as it will be distinct from the world. This is what it means to take on the incarnational nature of Christ. It is this very incarnational nature that requires the church to be a discerning community which at times both refuses conformity with the world while at other times joining in (with what God is already at work doing).”

All of this helped me when my wife and I moved to Pingkian (a small community in Metro Manila). I must admit that it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t simply a pastor with Metro Manila Bible Community or Pingkian Family Worship but that I was in fact the pastor of Pingkian! It has certainly shaped the way that I interact with the people who live around me.

If it’s true that we pastor communities like we pastor churches, what does that look like?