Virtual Visita Iglesia

(Conclusion)

A retreat high up in the mountains with a breathtaking view can be a place of worship. A beach, too, unless it’s something tanned with curves or six-packs that you find divine — not just the symmetry of sun, sea and sand that makes you wonder at the One who put them all together in one canvas.

The just-concluded observance of Holy Week need not have been spent in a cloister, though what an experience in spirituality that would have been, to have touched the core of our beings. I believe that being amid nature, embraced by family, or even being alone with what reaffirms your faith is time well spent.

Personally, I like visiting churches in the places I have been privileged to travel to — and I remember how profoundly hit I was by an ancient hidden church in Turkey, tucked in a remote mountain. Christians walked miles to reach this cave church in order to worship in secret. The walls of the cave still had frescoes of Jesus, Mary and the apostles, albeit faded, and I thought to myself — if early Christians would go to such difficult lengths to worship as a community, why is it sometimes so hard for me go to church when I don’t have to climb a ridge to get there? Is it because the gift of worshipping my God in public has never been denied me?

And that is why Holy Week or not, I like visiting churches. Okay, okay, I also like making three wishes whenever I visit a new church.

Last Thursday, we virtually visited the Matthias Church in Budapest, the St. Stephen’s Church in Passau, the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona and the Santiago de Compostela Cathedral. Here are four more churches (one more than the seven in the traditional Visita Iglesia) that always ring a bell of faith in my mind.

1. Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem — For Christians, a trip to Jerusalem hits its peak when one retraces the Stations of the Cross, the Via Dolorosa. It begins in a small chapel, winds through a market place and culminates in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which was built over the spot where Christ was crucified and buried. It is a way of faith, for none of the spots marking the original Stations of the Cross is exactly as it was over 2,000 years ago. Some stations are now mere markers between souvenir shops. But it was here that I had a life-altering experience 18 years ago. One that takes away the cobwebs of doubt when they cloud my faith. Let me retell it now.

We had a very “touristic” experience, actually, of carrying our own cross through the Via Dolorosa. It was actually meant to be a photo opportunity, but it turned out to be much more. The cross was so heavy and I feared that even with the help of my pilgrimage companions Luz Vidal and Therese Gonzales, I could not finish the route. And then something strange happened. The longer I walked, the higher my climb, the lighter my cross became. I asked Therese behind me if the men in our group had started to prop up the cross to help us out. She said no, it was just the three of us women. With my load getting lighter as the journey got tougher, I started to cry. I realized, as clearly as I could see the blue Mediterranean sky above me, that Someone was helping me carry my cross.

The chapel in the house of the Virgin Mary in Ephesus. Photo by Andie Recto

2. The chapel in the house believed to have been lived in by the Virgin Mary or Mary’s House in Ephesus, Turkey. Mary’s House sits on top of a hill, where John the Apostle is believed to have taken her during her twilight years. In a simple stone house (the stones, upon examination by experts, really date back to the Apostolic Age), she is believed to have died, and then assumed into heaven (The Assumption). We visited Mary’s House and the nearby chapel at dusk, and as the sun was dipping like an egg yolk on the horizon, our group (Christians) and our guides (Muslims)  held hands and prayed. We were one. When people come together in prayer, regardless of creed, God is ever present.

The Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima in Portugal. Photo by Ed Ramirez

3. The Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima in Portugal. My husband Ed and I saw the chapel built near the oak tree where Mary appeared in 1917 to the three children, Lucia, Jacinta and Francisco. Beside the chapel, a basilica was built and surrounding both the basilica and the chapel is a square that is bigger than St. Peter’s it can accommodate over one million pilgrims. In the depths of my heart (tears sprung unbidden to my eyes as I stepped into the chapel), I knew that though all the man-made splendor of Portugal took my breath away, it was the peace I felt in that little chapel in Fatima that I will always cherish. Truly, the best trips are those where you discover new places, and in the process, discover what is most meaningful to you.

Daraga Church in Albay. Photo by Pinky Icamen

4. 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 in the majestic Mayon Volcano, an altar in itself, seemingly only a few kilometers away.

I think visiting different churches, and seeing both the hand and the message of God in them, have made me a sturdier climber as I continue to scale the heights of my faith.