article and photos by: APA Feliciano
For centuries the hollowed walls of the San Agustin Church were just that—walls that breathed in dust and gathered the invisible footprints of friars that walked through the halls. Today, it stands as a magnificent manifestation of the enduring faith of the Filipino people, a memory imprint of yesterday and an architectural wonder.
But more than these, San Agustin Church is a reflection of the resilience of the Filipino people. Twice razed, the current baroque structure is by far the most successful effort at reviving the stronghold of the Augustinian Order in the country and has risen to become the oldest stone church in the country.
Romantic spectacle
Riding all together in a bus, the members of Mukha Ad traversed an unusually sleepy Manila
Intramuros and San Agustin, for first-time visitors, are physical objects far removed from a person’s emotions. Here it is where history is well-written in verses on cobbled streets, where the chapters of Philippine history are long-forgotten, remembered only when tour guides point out significant structures and the stories behind it.
On a personal note, San Agustin was a hauntingly beautiful fortress that carries far too many memories. My first college immersion was in San Agustin, where the kids from nearby area gathered round to hear pitifully-told stories from hastily-brought story books, and this place was also where I first realized that the walls were too old to be just another innocent church object. In short, this was where my odd fascination for history and my desire to be transported back in time sprung up.
San Agustin Church smelled old and it clung to our noses as our footsteps echoed in the baroque church. The ceilings, far too high and far too European, was described by our tour guide as a main characteristic of Baroque Architecture. Per description, this type of architecture is characterized by opulence and irregularity with a penchant for extravagance in ornamentation.
The ceiling, entirely painted by hand, is arguably the pioneer of the 3D art, four hundred years too early than ‘Avatar.’ The secret probably lies in the painstaking details carved overhead and around and in the extravagant chandeliers, crowns and ornamentations on retablos and altars, as well as with the European tiles.
Now a museum, the adjacent structure that occupies more than half a block used to be a monastery where priests and aspiring priests moved about for their prayers, studies, and other activities that required a huge amount of space. Perhaps a charming point of visit for tourists would be the ossuary housed within its premises, which, surprise of all surprises is where Antonio Luna is interred.
The House of Faith
Cameramen and engaged couples littered in the halls and in the garden while we had our tour—a common occurrence in a coveted location for weddings. I can only imagine how grand a wedding must be with San Agustin as a backdrop.
But as a Catholic, I saw San Agustin as a place where both history and religion thrive. Located nearby are marine offices, banks and an impoverished community where kids run amuck and parents live on peddling mundane objects. In the mornings, people from all walk of life gather together to celebrate the Eucharist in the house they claim to be their own. This is where the people of God gather to hear stories of a history far older than the structure itself; this is where people go when they want to be comforted by the silence that envelopes the halls and this is the place they go to when they want to be saved by their faith.
The Church for many people carries a lot of meanings: a blessed place, a structure, a house of the religious and whatnot, but on a personal level, I consider Church to be my home. I was born into this faith and so this is where I come home to whenever I go astray. I know the doors will always be open and that God will always be waiting.
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