The Beginnings of faith

CEBU, Philippines - My earliest memories of celebrating the feast of the Sto. Niño were of being high up in a building watching as the crowd snaked its way in downtown Cebu and of waiting for the caro of the Sto. Niño to pass by. At that time, I hadn't really understood it all. Perhaps, I had been told to say a prayer as the image passed. I don't really recall.

When I look back, I realize that there were many of these small acts of piety that permeated my childhood. I lived in an environment where faith wasn't formally taught; rather, it was absorbed, almost like osmosis. Coupled with a praying mother, a Catholic school education and the abundant graces from God, my faith grew (and continues to grow) into a mature and rational faith. It is no longer the faith being passed on to me but a faith I have chosen for myself.

I am indeed grateful for those quiet, little acts that most skeptics  would undoubtedly laugh at—the making of the sign of the cross when passing by a church, the lighting of candles, the reverence before sacred images. In and of themselves, these acts do not make the difference between  a blissful life in heaven  and an agonizing one in hell. But to me they were the beginnings of faith—the mustard seed that was planted in my heart. It fed my desire to grow as a Catholic, to understand what I believe in, and to hold on to when I was in doubt.

I understand that everybody's faith journey is special. Mine came by way of these small acts. For some people it might come more dramatically-an inspiring sermon, a personal crisis, a miracle. But I suppose  the point is not what triggers our call to faith but how we respond to it.

Today, as people of faith and people questioning their faith, and maybe even people who find no meaning in faith, celebrate in the streets and listen to the cries of Pit Señor, I hope they see it more than just a giant street party. I hope they see it instead as an invitation to ask the difficult questions or maybe even to listen to the still, quiet voice just longing to be heard. And perhaps, they will remember what it was like to be a child, to open their eyes in wonder and to accept that there are simply realities beyond whatever we can explain.

Viva Pit Señor!