A shepherd leads his flock

In the days of yore, kings, rulers and noblemen built churches for the people.

Nowadays, it is the people – usually with the guidance of a priest – who lay the building blocks for their place of worship. Churches don’t come to them in silver platters anymore. (It is thus really sad that in places like New York and Singapore, old churches have been converted into museums, restaurants and venues for fashion shows).

Somewhere in Quezon City, there is a parish that is struggling to build a church. They have been holding Sunday Masses in a basketball court. But though God is everywhere, a lot of them feel that a basketball doesn’t seem fitting to worship the King of Kings.

Led by a thirty-something priest, the parishioners of the new Our Lady of Pentecost parish in Loyola Heights, Quezon City (on the left side of Katipunan Avenue, across La Vista) have launched an ambitious drive called "Metro Sagrada para kay Kristo" to raise P60 million for the purchase of land and the construction of a church on it. Donors are encouraged to sponsor one square meter of the 98-sq. meter land where the church is to be built. Each square meter requires a donation of P20,000. With 3,000 donors, P60 million is not an impossible dream.

Times are hard, and people are caught up in their own problems. But for those who find comfort in a church, and get a dose of spiritual antibiotics every time they enter its doors, helping build a church is like helping build one’s own little corner of hope.

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Fr. Steven Zabala knew he wanted to be a priest even when he was still in third grade in Daet, Camarines Norte. He was fascinated by the priest’s immaculate garments and the majesty of his presence at Mass. While his friends were playing doctor, Steve would play priest.

At 17, he entered the seminary and stayed there for seven years, concentrating on the health care ministry. One day, he decided to leave the seminary and discover what his true calling was.

A year later, he made up his mind. He really wanted to become a priest. "My girlfriend left me!" he jokes.

The light bulb moment in his third grade was for real.

"My mind was made up. I was very definite," Father Steven says.

In 1996, he became the first priest in his family.

Early in his priesthood, Father Steven was assigned to a parish near the Payatas dumpsite. His church was a shanty, and most of his parishioners were scavengers. But he liked relating to them.

After two years, he was transferred to Loyola Heights. Unlike in Payatas, which had its own makeshift church, the new parish in Loyola had no church to speak of!

"It was a lot-less, church-less, convent-less and office-less parish," recalls Father Steve. He made arrangements to stay at the San Jose Seminary at the Ateneo across the street, but one parishioner offered his old home. With a roof over his head, Father Steven converted the house’s garage into a makeshift chapel where daily Masses were celebrated. However, the two-car garage could only accommodate 60 people!

But Father Steven has 18,000 parishioners, and Sunday Masses were begging to be held in a bigger space.

I asked Father Steven why the Catholic Church in the Philippines can’t build a church for the Our Lady of Pentecost parish.

"With the Church, the arrangement is that it will be the community that will build the church. Unless there is a very rich person who will underwrite the expense!" he points out.

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Loyola Heights is an upper-class community. But like most subdivisions in Metro Manila, it has in its peripheries, squatter communities. The Our Lady of Pentecost parish, despite its impressive location, has seven depressed areas in its fold.

Father Steven says more than half of his 18,000 parishioners are poor. He also reveals that at least 12 religious congregations have convents in the vicinity.

Once, when Archbishop Jaime Cardinal Sin visited the church-less parish, Father Steven told him, "Your Eminence, they call us the ‘Little Vatican’ because we have so many religious houses in our parish. I feel like Pope!" The Cardinal just laughed at the young priest’s sense of humor.

"We did not become a parish in order to build a church. We became a parish, because, first of all, we are a community," says Father Steven proudly. Although the parish has so far raised P2.5 million for the church project (plus assets consisting of a property donated by a parishioner worth P10 million), Father Steven quips: "You know, they did not teach us how to build churches in the seminary!"

* * *

Father Steven is six feet tall, good-looking and articulate. But his passion, he says, is really the Church.

"My source of joy, aside from communion with the Lord, is the community – joining their struggles, helping them achieve their dreams. This energizes and recharges me. We derive inspiration from each other."

Temptation, he admits, "is there everyday."

"We cannot run away from temptation," he says. "But because of the one year I spent searching for myself, I got my grounding. I found the proper boundaries."

I told Father Steven that several priests actually "fall" for women who are active in parish work.

"I can be deep into friendship with people, but I know the boundaries of a celibate friendship," he says.

Building a church is a Herculean task. Building a community of people of diverse backgrounds is harder, and Father Steven has already done that.