Accents
Unchristian, I wrote
Gina, as I light a candle on your tomb on this year's celebration of All Souls' Day, I exhume from the welter of feelings, protestations, contentions embalmed in diskettes my column about you. Titled Christian, it isn't, the column didn't get a feedback from the Church--only silence. The Church of our faith was as silent as your grave. In loving remembrance of what you meant to me and my family, I reprint below what I wrote four years ago to affirm that what the Church did or didn't do to you was most unchristian:
She's no drug-addict. She's no murderer. Overwhelming love and desire killed her. Call that naivete. Call that simple-mindedness or mindlessness of a simpleton of which she was in so many ways, one who would play with a glass of poison. Thiodan it was that also kills the insects in the rice fields. The insecticide was so potent she was DOA at the provincial hospital. And so last Saturday, we buried Gina Langusta, twenty years old.
The story goes that her boyfriend was bound for his hometown, Ajuy, for some unfinished work and she wanted to go with him. He refused. She wanted to leave her job as a domestic helper in our house where she had worked on-and-off. We always welcomed her back, knowledgeable as she was with the nitty-gritty of the household chores. She had reached Grade VI, poverty preventing her as well as the rest of her siblings from going further in the educational ladder. She learned fast enough, however, and had become a good cook. I even kidded her about opening someday her own eatery and be her own boss. She was at the beck and call of my grandchildren for their uniform, socks and shoes, had never been impatient about these nor uttered a cuss word. Gina was a gentle soul.
Earlier in the week previous, Rafael, Gina's father, met with Fr. Cabaluna of the Oton parish to enlist his dead daughter in the parish's rites for the dead. Service requested for was denied. The reason: his daughter committed suicide. He sought the help of a barangay councilman's wife in calling up the Archbishop's office in Jaro and got the same negative result.
Last Tuesday when I heard about the Church's refusal, I approached Fr. Renato Elmido (bless you) who consented to give his blessings at the Oton municipal cemetery. I gathered from our conversation that he couldn't say Mass for the suicide victim, but he could give his blessings which he said the Church does not disallow. I mused that in legalese, what the law does not prohibit, the law permits. I asked how much we're going to pay for his efforts. None, he replied. The good father mentioned something like jotting it down in his calendar so he won't forget. I told him, "Don't worry about transportation, Father. We're going to fetch you from the convento." My husband Rudy would only be too glad to drive him to the cemetery.
The following day, Wednesday, plans miscarried when I got a call from my friend and neighbor, Mrs. Lucy Salinas. Being also close to the family of the dead, she was just as concerned as I was for a priest's blessings. (Gina's aunt Rosita works in the Salinas household.) Lucy informed me that Fr. Elmido's blessings prior to interment did not get a go-signal from Fr. Cabaluna, the Oton parish administrator.
Thursday, determined to plead the case to Fr. Cabaluna, I went to the Oton convent along with Gina's father, the grieving boyfriend Boyet, his brother Ronnie, and Gina's aunt Rosita. Fr. Cabaluna deplored the fact that the suicide incident was aired over the radio to which Rosita remarked that she didn't even hear that. Incidents like those are grist to the mill of the media, fodder to their means of livelihood that Fr. Cabaluna didn't seem to understand.
The folks narrated how the girl even called out for "Tabang!" giving the lie to her intention of ending it all. In that moment of near death, could she not have asked for forgiveness in a direct confession to her Maker and was thus absolved of sinfulness, hence, worthy of religious service? In its awesome majesty, mustn't the law resolve doubts in favor of the accused? Or of those who have less in life?
I told the priest that despite her being dedicated in her tasks, Gina was not possessed of a stable mind. Fr. Cabaluna said if we could get a doctor's medical certificate to support that. And if we could get it, would things be all right now, we asked. Fr. Cabaluna answered that the doctor must meet with him for an interview after which, he would still get the approval of his superiors in the diocese office in Jaro.
The reply of this Church's functionary sent a burning sensation to my ears. Metaphors like the straw that broke the camel's back do that. We were at our wit's end with our request for a priest's blessing. It was getting late and rain was about to fall. We thanked Fr. Cabaluna for his audience with us, and left with the finality of our conviction: We will do our own blessing!
Friday, we rested our case.
Saturday, Sept. 14, we buried Gina minus the Church rites. The day must be mourning with us. The four-kilometer farm-to-market road from her parent's house to the town proper was terrible. The ground was wet and muddy and droplets of rain fell on our shoulders as if to share our grief, we who had loved Gina. Even then, the small ecumenical chapel of the municipal cemetery resonated with our song and prayers. The candles remained aglow. The orchids offered by relatives and friends looked so fresh. As I clasped the bottle of perfume that was sprayed on the coffin, old softie me couldn't contain the tears streaming down my face.
The priest had refused this particular dead to enter the House of God before burial, had denied this dead girl a priest's blessings because she ended her life by suicide. In contrast, suicide bombers kill innocent lives and yet are hailed as heroes by their religionists (but that's another story).
The Church that has showered merciful understanding on its own pedophiles (the cracks in its armor became international scandal), the same Church, through Fr. Jose Gerardo Cabaluna, showed not a tiny piece of charity to this poor family who was requesting blessings for one of their own.
The Church that opens its doors to criminals ad nauseam, to adulterers and concubines, to murderers and drug addicts, to hypocrites and politicians of all shades, the same Church had closed its doors to one simple-minded girl who, to paraphrase Shakespeare, had loved too well and perhaps not too wisely.
What else do we do but seek solace in the realm of fiction when men of the cloth are sadly wanting in compassion. Brings to mind Mark Anthony addressing the slain, lifeless Julius Caesar as a "bleeding piece of earth…" Yes, what was the priest-unblessed dead body before us but a larger chunk of dust? The soul was already released, and as Shakespeare entreats the Divine in behalf of Hamlet, who was killed in a duel to the death, we could only quote, "Flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." Uttered in deep sorrow with a prayer to the Almighty to translate to reality the words of the great dramatist in this poor girl's case.
It was most unchristian of the Church to have shut the door to Gina -- for the priests to stick to antiquated rules or so-called patakaran or Articles of whatever. Of course, this is just my opinion. And I hear you say, I am entitled to my own opinion.
Bless or unbless a soul. Condemn or redeem. Give an opening or bolt the door. Oh, well, lest Fr. Cabaluna and his ilk forget, the Holy Book says, "Judge that ye be not judged," or something to that effect.
(Comments to lagoc@hargray.com)