Gemma Cruz Araneta By Gemma Cruz Araneta   Does the name Fray Juan de Plasencia sound familiar? Perhaps you have come across his most famous work, Doctrina Christiana, the first book ever printed in the Philippines. The good friar was oneof the Discalced Franciscans sent to the Philippines. He also compiled a “Vocabulario” and a grammar manual “Arte de la lengua tagala,” the most widely spoken language. Of course he would say that, he was assigned in Laguna and died in Liliw. In June 1585, he wrote a subtly desperate letter to the King of Spain, not his first one apparently. Perhaps to remind the King of who he was, he mentioned the Doctrina Christiana and asked the His Majesty to please have copies printed in Mexico for distribution among missionaries destined for the Capitania-General de Filipinas, and if the Royal Treasury could please pay for all expenses. So, during the Holy Week I was meditating on how life was like for zealous missionaries like Fray Juan de Plasencia. If all the Spanish friar-missionaries were like him, you can be sure Marcelo del Pilar and Jose Rizal would have had nothing to rage about. In that particular letter, he reported to the King that the missionaries His Majesty had sent to the Philippines had not yet arrived, and that in the previous year only 11 of the promised number turned up from the Virreinato de la Nueva España(Mexico) and not more than 5 were ordained priests. He suggested that the King send missionaries from other orders like the Recollects and hinted that the mission in Laguna which was a “custodio” be elevated to a Province so it could get more attention and provisions. Fray de Plasencia also reported that in 1580, when the King had instructed a certain Fray Miguel de Talavera to visit the missions in the Philippines, this personage never appeared and he found out that Fray de Talavera chose to stay in Mexico and kept the most zealous missionaries with him instead of sending them to the Philippines, in blatant disobedience of a royal command. How interesting, I thought, there you have an excellent example of “obedezco pero no cumplo” (Iobey but not comply.) which I thought was commonplace in the lay bureaucracy, not in the clergy. No wonder, Fray Juan de Plasencia lamented: “If somebody comes and sees there is more work here they disappear and do not do anything for the conversion .” Although the Church and State were one and indivisible in those days, Fray Juan felt the colonial administration was remiss and needed a lot of prodding. He asked the King to please order the governor-general to establish more towns because the Indio population was still scattered and the encomenderos were too lazy to organize town centers with at least 20 to 30 households. They were only interested in collecting tribute and in the process were committing hideous abuses like forcing Indios into their service without pay, which was tantamount to slavery. Visitations were also urgent, similar to those conducted in Mexico. Some indios assigned to do church work were exempted from paying tribute, but when they were made to pay they stopped working altogether. Obviously, the early missionaries could not evangelize in Spanish nor could they teach Castillan because there were so few of them; they had to learn the native languages, compile vocabularies and grammar books to facilitate Christianization. After the intricacies of grammar and vocabulary came the translation of doctrinal concepts. The natives had their own system of beliefs, hierarchy of deities, spiritual leaders, superstitions, rites and rituals. Was there anything familiar that could be used to make them understand Christian doctrines? Fortunately for Fray Juan and his peers, yes there were similar concepts, though very few and far between. The natives believed in an afterlife and had a heaven called kaluwalhatian. Significantly, they worshipped one supreme god, BathalangMaycapal; there were minor deities like the anitos, which were kept in their homes and brought out to the fields during harvest time. There were places of worship, though most of these provisional, called simbahan. However, there were myriad superstitions many of which the missionaries could never obliterate and persist to this day. In the 18th century, between 1738 and 1744, another missionary, Fray Juan Francisco de San Antonio wrote, “ We are continuously preaching against them and still we cannot do away with them” though he did say, “all of them are funny.” They could never get rid of the “pasintabi sa nono” which we still practice although we have dropped the “nono,”  the grandpa crocodile. Neither could they eradicate belief in what they called the ministers of the devil, the “Mancocolam,” “Magtatangal,” “Osuang,” and “Mangagyoma.” Many of us are still afraid of these denizens of darkness. The cult of San Antonio de Padua, the patron of lost things, was used to find the thief; a lighted candle was placed in front of the saint in the presence of the suspects and the flame would point to the culprit. The natives in those days would also exchange rosaries for charms and amulets and mingle this sacramental with “pagan” rituals. Fray de San Antonio disparaged the 16th century indios as liars and perjurers because their promises were founded on curses instead of on good faith, or what the Spaniards considered good faith. He cited the oath made by the rulers of Manila and Tondo in 1571, to obey the Catholic monarchs: They swore to allegiance, if broken, “let the sun split me in half” or “may the crocodile swallow me.” Those were not lies. Didn’t the natives venerate the sun? Wasn’t thecrocodile a sacred animal? That first encounter followed by a traumatic period of transition continues to fascinate me; meditating on it explains a lot of things.   ([email protected])