PARADOXICAL

Going to Mass at the open-air Greenbelt Chapel in Makati is like going to an outdoor concert or something.

One time, I opted to stand outside the chapel to hear one late-morning Mass. I choose the walkway near the four-meter (or so) green-glass-and-concrete cross which I gather to be the work of sculptor Ramon Orlina. It has never occurred to me that communing with nature while hearing Mass would have its unique advantages. It's the closest thing the church has to environmentalism.

From where I stood outside, I could observe the white dome-shaped structure of the chapel which looked like the upper half of an eggshell floating, which found its way on a pond. The chapel is one of those few churches (St. Andrew in Makati and the UP Diliman chapel) wherein the altar is located at the center of the church and parishioners cluster around the priest during the rites. One feels like attending an important barangay gathering, a community affair.

But what makes it all the more interesting is that the chapel seems to float on a pond. Yes, it's literally a watering hole for overworked spirits in the Makati business center, an oasis in a sea of concrete and steel.

I propped my sleepy self on the metal railing of the walkway and wait for the choir to break into a hymn of praise. Immediately, praising seemed easier no matter how the soul was saddled. The lector reads the day's passage aloud. Outside, the "cedars of Lebanon" at once become more tangible, what with all the hardwood trees towering just at the periphery. "The birds in the air and the grass in the fields" suddenly become not too far removed as metaphors intended for urban life. "Living waters" can not be more evocative a phrase, what with the wind causing parts of the pond to lap gently. Koi fish swim to the surface for some air every now and then, sending waves of concentric circles that tickle the floating lilies and "kuyapo" (a floating water plant). Fish. Isn't fish a symbol of Jesus Himself?

The female lector, in a gentle voice, begins to read from the book of Sirach: "The Lord...hears the cry of the oppressed... The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds; it does not rest till it reaches its goal." A patch of pond water reflects the clouds above like a mirror. I am stooping but I find myself staring heavenwards! It's as if I was being told to be steadfast in my petitions, to press in through the clouds so that my laments will reach the throne of God in heaven.

The choir sang the responsorial psalm. The old priest stood up for the sermon. His voice is commanding, even jolting, despite his age, reverberating in the arcs of the hollow dome. In his sermon he speaks about life and death, especially death, which he himself finds comfortable to discuss. A giant orange carp about a little more than one foot long passed by underneath, scaring off the gouramis (small fishes) huddled under a patch of 10:45 AM sunlight. Brown sparrows fluttered around the glass-and-cement cross. The small, dark unidentifiable fishes feeding on green algae thriving in profusion at the base of the cross were alarmed by the twittering. Snails attack the once-rotund leaves of lotus.

The priest also speaks about sin. I couldn't quite make out what's far beneath the ripples on the pond's surface of the pond, the depths where all the murk is. I could identify with all that: the darkness, the depth, the dankness.

But "the Lord will rescue me from every evil threat..." Suddenly my eyes were drawn to that lone bright-pink lotus flower, emerging afresh and victorious from the murky gunk. I noticed the trees around me, towering and proud in the strength of the Creator.

A wave of light rippled and reflected from the pond, making an ephemeral canvass of the inner white wall of the dome -- "op art" in its natural, uncontrived form. The visual treat was complemented by the choir. I've always considered the gothic-style in churches the most heavenly architecture because they inspite the eyes to meditate skywards as they trace the direction of the pointy spires. Now I'm certain I was kind of wrong.

The priest raised his hands in benediction. "Peace be with you!" Boys and girls kissed their father and mother, young couples gave their babies a smack on the lips. I smiled my honest best to total strangers. All of creation seem to revel in the thick, sicky air of peace, filial piety and love.

"I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall ever be in my mouth." The faithful walked off carrying these parting words home.

1998

Note to self: Check for consistent tenses.

posted by Resty Odon  # 7:39 PM