Every evening, my late stepfather would kneel down in front of an altar bearing the limang kadeusan, raise his right hand and recite an orasyon, beginning...
Sa pangalan ng Deus Ama, Deus Ina, Deus Anac, Deus Espiritu Santong Wagas; Deus ubod utak Karunungan ang Kalangkap sa dilim at buong liwanag.
(In the name of the Father, the Mother, the Son, the Holy Spirit; God source of all knowlege and wisdom that encompases light and darkness.)
It is only recently that I learned that he was a member of the Lapiang Malaya, who we had read about in our Lithis class, and that he had evaded a raid on their Pasay safehouse with the help of an amulet that reportedly kept him invisible even as policemen combed through the house for days. Supposedly a favorite of Valentin de los Santos, my stepfather would be assigned to buy lunch for the followers with just enough money for one jueteng bet and a winning combination chosen by the leader. My mom tells me the story with a laugh, remembering her own initiation into the group - an approval signaled by the appearance of flowing water in a lightbulb in a nondescript house in Sta. Ana.
She recites for me their version of the Sign of the Cross, and I'm struck by how beautiful and wise it is compared to the Roman Catholic Church's with its acknowledgment and honoring of the Mother and forces of light and darkness.
Sa pangalan ng Deus Ama, Deus Ina, Deus Anac, Deus Espiritu Santong Wagas; Deus ubod utak Karunungan ang Kalangkap sa dilim at buong liwanag.
(In the name of the Father, the Mother, the Son, the Holy Spirit; God source of all knowlege and wisdom that encompases light and darkness.)
It is only recently that I learned that he was a member of the Lapiang Malaya, who we had read about in our Lithis class, and that he had evaded a raid on their Pasay safehouse with the help of an amulet that reportedly kept him invisible even as policemen combed through the house for days. Supposedly a favorite of Valentin de los Santos, my stepfather would be assigned to buy lunch for the followers with just enough money for one jueteng bet and a winning combination chosen by the leader. My mom tells me the story with a laugh, remembering her own initiation into the group - an approval signaled by the appearance of flowing water in a lightbulb in a nondescript house in Sta. Ana.
She recites for me their version of the Sign of the Cross, and I'm struck by how beautiful and wise it is compared to the Roman Catholic Church's with its acknowledgment and honoring of the Mother and forces of light and darkness.
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