Odysseys of faith (Conclusion)

"Don’t just believe in miracles; depend on them.” -Author unknown          

Scaling a spiritual peak is one of life’s greatest, most profound achievements. A physician scales such a peak when he marvels at the perfection of every human body, how every vital part works in almost flawless symmetry with other vital parts to give life to a living, breathing body.

A nature lover sees God in every unique snowflake. My sister Geraldine proclaims to the world, “Why is God so good to me?” when she finds a set of lost, but very important, keys. The destitute sees God in every kind person who gives him more than a passing glance.

We see God when we behold the splendor of his creations, when we see the splendor of the creations of his creations — from the majestic, near-perfect Mayon Volcano in Bicol, to the frescoes at the Sistine Chapel, to the temples at the Angkor Wat in Cambodia.

Today, as we still feel the solemn after-glow of the Holy Week, I’d like to share with you three of the most profound journeys of faith I have taken. (Last week, I recalled my life-altering, exhilarating odysseys to the Holy Land, the House of the Virgin Mary in Ephesus, Fatima in Portugal and Lourdes in France.)

At the end of each visit, I usually genuflect in praise to the God that made it all possible. As I go down on bended knees, my heart does cartwheels — in exultation.

5. Santiago de Compostela — You get a high, literally and figuratively, when you visit the 11th-century Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, the biggest and most outstanding edifice of Romanesque art in Spain. The Way of St. James (Camino de Santiago), which means walking continuously for 10, 20 or 30 days from certain starting points in Europe to Santiago de Compostela, culminates in the Cathedral. Those who have gone on this physically-challenging pilgrimage have found themselves being cleansed and purified during their spartan journey.

I didn’t embark on the long walk to the cathedral, but a visit to it was awesome. Aside from the literal spiritual high I got from conquering its tiled roof, a destination in itself, I felt the mercy of God during a visit to the statue of St. James (“Santiago”), which pilgrims and visitors embrace. Before you reach the statue, you must ascend a steep flight of stone steps. Below the altar is the tomb of St. James and his two disciples.

Something short of a miracle happened to me in the alcove with the statue of St. James. As I took the photo of a dear friend who was embracing the statue, I took a few steps backward in order to get a better angle of the rare photo-op. I didn’t realize I was at the edge of the landing and had stepped back into virtual thin air. Just before I could fall down the heavy stone steps to life everlasting, a pair of strong arms lifted me and set me upright. Up to now, I do not know to whom those arms belonged. Or maybe I do.

6. Our Lady of Montserrat  near Barcelona  — Faith can move mountains; and men can move mountains because of their faith. It was a blessing to be in the bosom of one of the most visited shrines of the Virgin Mary — on the eve of Mother’s Day last year.

Our Lady of Montserrat (The Black Madonna) is nestled in a basilica tucked into a rugged mountain range called the “saw mountains,” about 45 minutes by car from the city of Barcelona. The peaks of the mountains, which rise 4,000 feet (1,219 meters), resemble the teeth of a saw.

It is no breeze to venerate Our Lady there, especially in the days when the only way to reach the shrine was on foot, or through mule-drawn carriages. I’ve always believed that when great effort and sacrifice are exerted and expended in the exercise of faith, the pilgrim is strengthened. The effort is a prayer in itself.

Mary, conceived without sin, is always depicted as immaculately white, with complexion like Dresden china.

But Our Lady of Montserrat is black, it is, in fact, called “La Moreneta.” It is as imperfect as you and me. But here she is, looking truly human. She was not immune to the ravages of time, she has aged through time, if only symbolically. There is nothing intimidating about the Black Madonna of Montserrat. She is depicted sitting on a chair with the baby Jesus on her lap and a ball on her right hand. In her imperfect state, she seems just like one of us. Our mother.

Kneeling behind Our Lady’s alcove, thousands of miles away from my home, I felt I was home. I remembered the line taught to us in school. “Remember, oh most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known, that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help or sought thy intercession, was left unaided…”

7. Daraga Church in Albay — Actually, one church that stands out in my treasure trove of memories is the Daraga Church in Albay. My parents and sisters and I lived in Legazpi City for a year when I was a teenager and we would go to church every Sunday at the Daraga Church,  also known as Our Lady of the Gate, which sits atop a hill. When you emerge from the heavy wooden doors of the church after Mass, you behold the presence of God anew — in the majestic Mayon Volcano, an altar in itself.

Even on those Sundays when my heart was heavy with teenaged angst, it would transform into something as light as a cloud whenever I would hear Mass at the Daraga Church. A couple of years ago, my sisters Mae and Val and I made a sentimental odyssey to Daraga Church on our way to a holiday in CamSur. Memories of how a dreary day became bright and sunny after worshipping before two altars of faith — the church and the mountain — reinforced my belief that those who hear Mass (or go to spiritual services) regularly are truly nourished with mega doses of spiritual vitamins. They take away sadness or depression of the prolonged kind, the way the gentle wind sweeps away the clouds that sometimes hide the majesty of the Mayon.

Have I become saintly after all these privileged visits to these holy places? Hardly. But I think I have become a sturdier climber as I continue to scale the heights of my faith. (You may e-mail me at [email protected].)