Urban Ecclesiology: Gospel of Mark, Familia Dei and a Filipino Community Facing Homelessness 9780567659804, 9780567663788, 9780567659811

Table of contents :
Cover page
Halftitle page
Series page
Title page
Copyright page
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
TERMINOLOGY
ABBREVIATIONS
Map
Chapter 1 BEING CHURCH AMONG THE HOMELESS
I. Ecclesiology of the Marginalized
II. Contours of the Research Project
III. Paradigms for Serving the Homeless Populations
IV. Advocacy for an Ecclesial-oriented Paradigm
V. Structural Overview of this Study
Chapter 2 THEORETICAL AND METHODOLOGICALPROLEGOMENA
I. Towards a Correlation between Ideal and Local Ecclesiology
II. Towards a Method for Ecclesiology Applied in Local Contexts
(a) My Role: An Insider and/or Outsider Perspective
(b) Methodology for Doing Qualitative Research
(c) Methodology for Doing Ecclesial Th eology
Chapter 3 ECCLESIALITY AND LOCALITY OF THE CHURCH
I. Indispensable Ecclesial Contours
(a) The Church’s Relation to Israel
(b) Biblical Images of the Church
(c) Ecumenical Conditions of Ecclesiality: ‘Ecclesial Fruitfulness’
(d) The Attributes of Being Church
(e) The Intersecting Nature and Mission of the Church
(f) The Place of the Church: ubi Christus, ibi Ecclesia
II. Criteria Towards Ecclesiality in a Local Ecclesiology
Chapter 4 TOWARDS NAMING THE CONTEXT
I. Colonial Historical Ethnography of the Philippines – A History of Struggle
II. Arriving in Davao: A Tale of a Two-sided City
(a) Reasons for Living in the Park
(b) The Price of Living in the Park
III. Kinship and the Social Order: The Social Ties that Bind
(a) Rituals and Social Order
IV. A Community’s Communication Process and Leadership, Within and Without
V. The Economic Dimension
VI. Community Relationships, Within and Without
(a) Codes of Conduct and Morality
(b) Perceptions of the Other
(c) Self-perception
VII. Religious Institutions, Inclinations and Indigenous Beliefs
VIII. A Community’s Description Shaping the Ecclesial Narrative
Chapter 5 A CONTEXTUAL AND INTERDISCIPLINARY READING OF MARK’ S GOSPEL
I. Doing Ecclesial Theology with the FECH: Hermeneutical Reflections
(a) Why Should there be Local Theologies?
(b) Where and When Does Local Theology Happen?
(c) Who Does Local Theologies?
(d) How Do People Do Local Theology?
II. Why the Gospel of Mark?
III. Reading Mark’s Gospel: Hermeneutical Insights from the FECH
(a) Mark in Light of Family-centredness
(b) Mark in Light of Turning Shame into Honour
(c) Mark in Light of the Supernatural World Impacting the Empirical World
IV. Learning from the Theological Motifs of the FECH
Chapter 6 TOWARDS A FAMILIA DEI ECCLESIOLOGY
I. A Local Ecclesial Theology of the FECH
(a) Contextual Challenges
(b) Theological Criteria
II. Ecclesiology as Contextual Theology
(a) Re-reading Ecclesiality in Light of the FECH’s Narrative
(b) Re-reading the Attributes in Light of the FECH’s Narrative
(c) Re-reading the Notae Externae in Light of the FECH’s Narrative
Chapter 7 A CHURCH IN THE ‘FILIPINO’ CONTEXTS
I. Contemporary Paradigms in Urban Mission
II. Embodied Ecclesiology in a Local Context: Ramifi cations
(a) Local Ecclesiological Methodology Revisited
(b) Ecclesiality in the Locality of the Church Revisited
(c) Familia Dei Revisited
(d) Ecclesial Narratives Contribution to Intercultural Theology
III. Conclusion: The Homeless Jesus
Appendix A PARTICIPANT SUMMARY
Appendix B SEMI-STRUCTURED INTERVIEW GUIDE
Appendix C TRUNCATED INTERVIEW DATA
Interview 1 English Transcription
Interview 2 English Transcription
Interview 9 English Transcription
Interview 11 English Transcription
Interview 16 English Transcription
Interview 19 English Transcription
Focus Group 1 Transcript
Focus Group 2 Transcript
BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX

Citation preview

ECCLESIOLOGICAL INVESTIGATIONS

Series Editor Gerard Mannion

Volume: 19 Urban Ecclesiology Gospel of Mark, Familia Dei and a Filipino Community Facing Homelessness

i

Other titles in the series: Comparative Ecclesiology: Critical Investigations Church and Religious ‘Other’ Ecumenical Ecclesiology Globalization and the Mission of the Church Friendship Exploring its Implications for the Church in Postmodernity Agreeable Agreement Being Faithful Communion, Diversity and Salvation Dumitru Staniloae: An Ecumenical Ecclesiology More Than Communion

ii

URBAN ECCLESIOLOGY

Gospel of Mark, Familia Dei and a Filipino Community Facing Homelessness

Pascal D. Bazzell

Bloomsbury T&T Clark An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

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Bloomsbury T&T Clark An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc Imprint previously known as T&T Clark 50 Bedford Square London WC1B 3DP UK

1385 Broadway New York NY 10018 USA

www.bloomsbury.com BLOOMSBURY, T&T CLARK and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2015 © Pascal D. Bazzell, 2015 Pascal D. Bazzell has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN:

HB: 978-0-567-65980-4 ePDF: 978-0-567-65981-1 ePub: 978-0-567-65982-8

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Bazzell, Pascal D. Urban ecclesiology:gospel of Mark, Familia Dei, and a Filipino community facing homelessness / by Pascal D. Bazzell. — 1st [edition]. pages cm. — (Ecclesiological investigations ; Volume 19) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-567-65980-4 (hbk) — ISBN 978-0-567-65981-1 (epdf) — ISBN 978-0-567-65982-8 (epub) 1. Catholic Church--Philippines. 2. Church work with the homeless--Philippines. 3. City churches--Phillippines. 4. Bible. Mark--Criticism, interpretation, etc.I. Title. BX1656.B39 2015 282.599--dc23 2014048283 Series: Ecclesiological Investigations, volume 19 Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

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CONTENTS Foreword Acknowledgements Terminology List of Abbreviations Philippines Map

viii xi xiii xv xvi

Chapter 1 BEING CHURCH AMONG THE HOMELESS

I. II. III. IV. V.

Ecclesiology of the Marginalized Contours of the Research Project Paradigms for Serving the Homeless Populations Advocacy for an Ecclesial-oriented Paradigm Structural Overview of this Study

1 3 8 14 18 22

Chapter 2 THEORETICAL AND METHODOLOGICAL PROLEGOMENA

I. II.

Towards a Correlation between Ideal and Local Ecclesiology Towards a Method for Ecclesiology Applied in Local Contexts (a) My Role: An Insider and/or Outsider Perspective (b) Methodology for Doing Qualitative Research (c) Methodology for Doing Ecclesial Theology

25 26 29 33 35 42

Chapter 3 ECCLESIALITY AND LOCALITY OF THE CHURCH

I.

II.

Indispensable Ecclesial Contours (a) The Church’s Relation to Israel (b) Biblical Images of the Church (c) Ecumenical Conditions of Ecclesiality: ‘Ecclesial Fruitfulness’ (d) The Attributes of Being Church (e) The Intersecting Nature and Mission of the Church (f) The Place of the Church: ubi Christus, ibi Ecclesia Criteria Towards Ecclesiality in a Local Ecclesiology

47 48 49 50 51 55 63 67 70

Chapter 4 TOWARDS NAMING THE CONTEXT

I.

Colonial Historical Ethnography of the Philippines – A History of Struggle

73 75

v

vi

Contents

II.

Arriving in Davao: A Tale of a Two-sided City (a) Reasons for Living in the Park (b) The Price of Living in the Park III. Kinship and the Social Order: The Social Ties that Bind (a) Rituals and Social Order IV. A Community’s Communication Process and Leadership, Within and Without V. The Economic Dimension VI. Community Relationships, Within and Without (a) Codes of Conduct and Morality (b) Perceptions of the Other (c) Self-perception VII. Religious Institutions, Inclinations and Indigenous Beliefs VIII. A Community’s Description Shaping the Ecclesial Narrative

79 83 86 87 90

96 100 102 102 104 106 107 111

Chapter 5 A CONTEXTUAL AND INTERDISCIPLINARY READING OF MARK’S GOSPEL

I.

II. III.

IV.

Doing Ecclesial Theology with the FECH: Hermeneutical Reflections (a) Why Should there be Local Theologies? (b) Where and When Does Local Theology Happen? (c) Who Does Local Theologies? (d) How Do People Do Local Theology? Why the Gospel of Mark? Reading Mark’s Gospel: Hermeneutical Insights from the FECH (a) Mark in Light of Family-centredness (b) Mark in Light of Turning Shame into Honour (c) Mark in Light of the Supernatural World Impacting the Empirical World Learning from the Theological Motifs of the FECH

113 114 115 115 116 119 121 123 124 128 139 143

Chapter 6 TOWARDS A FAMILIA DEI ECCLESIOLOGY

I.

II.

A Local Ecclesial Theology of the FECH (a) Contextual Challenges (b) Theological Criteria Ecclesiology as Contextual Theology (a) Re-reading Ecclesiality in Light of the FECH’s Narrative (b) Re-reading the Attributes in Light of the FECH’s Narrative (c) Re-reading the Notae Externae in Light of the FECH’s Narrative

145 146 146 147 172 172 175 177

Contents

vii

Chapter 7 A CHURCH IN THE ‘FILIPINO’ CONTEXTS

I. II.

III.

Contemporary Paradigms in Urban Mission Embodied Ecclesiology in a Local Context: Ramifications (a) Local Ecclesiological Methodology Revisited (b) Ecclesiality in the Locality of the Church Revisited (c) Familia Dei Revisited (d) Ecclesial Narratives Contribution to Intercultural Theology Conclusion: The Homeless Jesus

Appendix A: Participant Summary Appendix B: Semi-structured Interview Guide Appendix C: Truncated Interview Data Bibliography Index

181 182 184 185 186 187 190 195 197 201 203 227 245

FOREWORD That this book appears in Bloomsbury’s Ecclesiological Investigations series both marks important developments in contemporary thinking about the church and signals the opportunities and challenges of theology as an ever-increasingly interdisciplinary field of inquiry. On the one hand, ecclesiologists will be treated to a vision of the ekklêsia that is robustly empirical in its methodology, equally reappropriative (of historical formulations) and creative (in looking ahead to the nature and being of the church in the twenty-first century) in its theological formulation, and concretely local and suitably global in its scope. On the other hand, the multi-disciplinary nature and missiological thrust of the discussion stretches the boundaries of approaches and trajectories of investigation typical in much of this series, if not also vis-à-vis the main lines of ecclesiological reflection up to the present time. In order for me to situate both the present achievements and latent potentiality of this volume, let me expand on these doubtless contestable affirmations in three directions. First, theologically, the journey readers are invited upon with the Filipino ecclesial community facing homelessness (FECH) leads, for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, to encounter with the triune God. The gospels themselves indicate that the ongoing presence and reality of Jesus is to be found not least among those portrayed and given voice in this volume. More to the point, readers not only get to listen in on and be challenged by FECH readings of the Bible – the Gospel of Mark in particular (see Chapter 5) – but come to realize that the Jesus of the FECH is much closer to the one depicted by the evangelists than what most modern people, Christians included, imagine him to be. What I mean is that the FECH emphasizes in a forceful way that Jesus himself was more rather than less homeless, so whenever we think Jesus to be like us middle class citizens of the modern world, the FECH find Jesus in solidarity with others in their homelessness. Further, the Spirit of Jesus was poured out not upon homes or houses but into hearts, and part of the problem most first-century Jews had with Jesus and his first followers was their teaching that God alighted on human heads and entered into human hearts through the Spirit rather than needing temples, structures, or buildings, however majestic, to accommodate the divine glory. In other words, entering into and remaining with the FECH both undermines our human instincts to build booths and tabernacles to showcase the presence of God and foregrounds the trinitarian claim upon humans that their bodies and lives are the primary dwelling places of the living God, following in the footsteps of the incarnated Word and in the unpredictable winds of the pentecostal Spirit. Second, more specifically in the ecclesiological domain, the FECH challenges much if not all of our conventions about what is means to be the church and how viii

Foreword

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it looks like that the church goes about its ministry and mission. The investigations charted in the following pages open up ecclesiology not only to traditionally defined topics related to the marks or notes of the church as well as its ministries and missionary tasks, but also to emerging conversations around the public nature of the church, including its political, economic and social dimensions. This latter set of realities means that Urban Ecclesiology brings ecclesiology proper into discussion with practical theology, theology of ministry, missiology, political theology, economic theology and social theology, and vice-versa. For those whose first reaction is to ask, ‘How can we more affluent ones help our brothers and sisters in the FECH?’ the remainder of the book invokes numerous possible forms of response, not the least of which is to pause just long enough to stay with the FECH in order to understand more deeply their problems and potential, discern their struggles and hopes, and comprehend better their situation and surrounding realities. As such, then, ecclesiology cannot remain a speculative and conceptual exercise; instead, it becomes a crossroads where a multitude of disciplines intersect, bridging theological theory and ecclesial praxis. Last but not least, the discussion as a whole prompts a series of more foundational questions. What does home-based and homelessness mean? How does home-establishment and homeless space contribute to our personal and social identities? What does human being and human community mean when understood according to the social, geographical, environmental and ecological realities that constitute the FECH and other similar social groups? To what degree has the possibility of land- and home-ownership – uniquely modern phenomena perhaps – marginalized the more primordial nomadic character of human being and community? Relatedly, how have such developments compromised our capacity to view the body of Christ and the temple of the Holy Spirit as always in via, hoping for and looking towards the heavenly city, the New Jerusalem that is coming, rather than being identified almost singularly with bounded and landed living spaces? These are perhaps some of the most primordial, persistent and fundamental ontological and anthropological questions with implications for theology. They beg rethinking about what many, if not most, moderns assume regarding these basic matters, and this volume highlights how it may be because many of us – at least of the theological type who are reading these words – both have little experience of homelessness or have never considered homeless perspectives on what is otherwise taken for granted. Pascal Bazzell prompts these considerations and much more. Those who are not Filipinos should not think this is for others; the specificity of the lenses deployed is exactly what mediates such queries that otherwise escape the more general and abstract prose in which traditional theology and ecclesiology is usually couched. Then, those who are not ecclesiologists also should not think this is irrelevant; pursuing matters related to the church, community and homelessness is pertinent for Christian theology, life, praxis, ministry and mission in the present twenty-first-century global context. Herein is thus registered not only ecclesiology but also theology as a multi-disciplinary, multicultural, and trans-generational sphere of exploration. No doubt, critical questions are evoked at each turn, but

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Foreword

these cannot arise apart from readers of this Foreword continuing to turn the book’s pages and engaging the conversation. Amos Yong Professor of Theology & Mission Fuller Theological Seminary

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ‘Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinangalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan.’ He who does not know how to look back at where he came from will never get to his destination. Jose Rizal In producing this study, a revised version of my doctoral dissertation written at Fuller Theological Seminary, I have become indebted to many. It can be a daunting task to give an adequate acknowledgement to one’s work as hundreds of people have shaped my thinking and this work in a variety of ways, from spontaneous conversations to more lengthy discussions or even debates. I give my deepest thanks to our Lord Jesus Christ, who, through his gracious Spirit and presence, nurtured, guided and encouraged me through this process. May He be the centre of all I do and desire. Next to the Lord, I am truly grateful to my wife Kaye, who exhibited Christ’s love and patience to me in so many ways through this long journey over three continents, during this time also giving me the most precious gifts of our two children. She helped me when I needed a native Filipino speaker or research assistant, and graciously was doing street level work when I had to write again. To you my love, I am deeply thankful. I would like to articulate my deep appreciation to my doctoral committee members: Jude Tiersma-Watson, Charles Van Engen and R. Daniel Shaw, wise advice, encouragement and insightful directions when I needed it. I am also grateful for the Fuller Theological Seminary’s School of Intercultural Studies faculty; especially Bryant Meyers, Sherwood Lingenfelter and Ryan Bolger for investing in me, Betsy Glanville for believing in me and Melba Maggay for being my outside reader. And to my Fuller colleagues who have been a wonderful inspiration, especially for Adam Ayers and Birgit Herppich’s insightful feedback. Much indebtedness goes to the FECH, to which I had the privilege of journeying with through the last 10 years. This study is dedicated to you, a small expression of my thankfulness of allowing me into your world and your friendship. Salamat kaayo! I want to also express my gratitude to my former team leader and professor, Emo Yango and all my teammates from Silingan Outreach who walked the streets with me and greatly impacted my understanding of urban missions. Thank you to Koinonia Theological Seminary (KTS), where I learned the importance of practical applications while attending to my academic training and was allowed to be part of the faculty body for the last four years, enjoying teaching and shaping the academic life of KTS. A special thank you also goes to my OMF family, especially xi

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to Markus Dubach, Richard Schlitt, Steve and Anna Griffiths and David Gould, I truly appreciate your encouragement, support and faithful prayers. And last but not least, I would also like to share my deep appreciation to the Ecclesiological Investigation International Research Network (EI) that has provided me with a wonderful framework to deepen my research and provide lifechanging dialogue partners. In particular, too, the EI-chairman and the editor for this series Gerard Mannion, thank you for investing in a young scholar such as me. I am also very thankful to Amos Yong for his wonderful Foreword and to the staff at T&T Clark for their guidance of the publication. As the author of this book, I of course take final responsibility for the content. Whether one agrees with me or not on the conclusion that I reach in the process of my analysis, it is my hope that this book encourages reflections and dialogues that bare fruit in the life and mission of the churches.

TERMINOLOGY Homelessness: Homelessness is defined in this study as individuals and families who are usually living without permanent housing or perceive themselves to be homeless. In the context of this project, this may include people: (a) who may be living on the streets, park, sidewalks, or any public or private place not designed for or generally used as a regular living accommodation for human beings; (b) who are housed temporarily by renting a room on a day to day basis, which they leave for a period of time; (c) who having temporarily built a shelter on the sidewalks, or some other place that is not their own, live with the constant fear of their place being demolished; (d) who live with friends or others, this being understood by both parties as a last resort.1 Filipino community facing homelessness (FCH): This refers to the research community of this study. This particular community was chosen as it exemplifies a wide range of presentations. The community consists of families and individuals who have been living in one particular park for several years (some for 20 years). This group is comprised of newborns to great-grandparents (four generations). Also, the community is multiethnic, multilingual and multi-religious (beside dominant Catholic and Protestant groups, there are also a minority of different other sects and Muslims living in the community, and often many have an underlying spiritualistic belief system2). Too avoid the stigmatization of people,3 I endeavour to use, whenever possible throughout this manuscript, people-first language (for example ‘families who are 1. See S. Dornbush, ‘Additional Perspectives on Homeless Families’, American Behavioral Scientist Vol. 3, No. 37 (1994), pp. 404–11. 2. To date there has been no precise articulation of study of the Filipino community facing homelessness’s unique understanding of the spiritual world. Thus, I will be using related terms from anthropological studies that describe fertile and diverse spiritual reality comprised of beings and forces that are subdivine and nonhuman, in the rough understanding of pervasive spiritual power and force, and extensive presence of spiritual beings such as spiritualism and spiritism. These interchangeable terms will have to suffice until a clear and comprehensive description of the Filipino community facing homelessness’s spiritual world has been made. 3. See Rebecca C. Mayor, ‘African American Men Facing Homelessness and CoOccurring Disorders: A Qualitative Investigation of Multiple Stigmas’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Faculty of the Graduate School, Marquette University, 2011), p.  7. Mayor insightfully explores a specific subgroup of the homeless population experiences and responds to multiple sources of stigmatization.

xiii

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Terminology

homeless’ or ‘individuals facing homelessness’ vs. ‘homeless families’ or ‘homeless individuals’). However, on some occasions I utilized non-people-first language simply for stylistic purposes (‘Filipino homeless community’ vs. ‘Filipino homeless facing community’ or ‘homeless population’ vs. ‘population facing homelessness’). In either case, we need to stay suspicious with terms such as ‘homelessness’, ‘the marginalized’ or ‘the poor’ as they are mere product of the capitalists’ economies. They stand in contrast to those who benefit from these terminologies over the other, often reinforcing the marginal identity and legitimizing their capitalism. Filipino ecclesial community facing homelessness (FECH): These are the FCH members who represent the gathering of disciples of Jesus Christ as being the Church in that particular location.

ABBREVIATIONS AG ANF ASS DDS EN EG FECH FC FCH FG GS GThom I LG NCCB NIGTC NT OMF OT par. Q SEC Sirach SO TDNT WA WCC

Second Vatican Councils’ Ad Gentes (Decree on the Church’s Missionary Activity) Ante-Nicene Fathers Acta Apostolicae Sedis Davao Death Squad Evangelii Nuntiandi (Evangelization in the Modern World) Evangelii Gaudium (Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium) Filipino ecclesial community facing homelessness Fammilaris Consortio (Apostolic Exhortation) Filipino community facing homeless Focus Group (e.g. FG 2-6 refers to Focus Group 2, informant number 6) Second Vatican Councils’ Gaudium et spes (Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World) Gospel of Thomas Interview (e.g. I-14 is Interview 14) Second Vatican Councils’ Lumen Gentium (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church) National Conference of Catholic Bishops The New International Greek Testament Commentary New Testament OMF International (formerly the China Inland Mission and Overseas Missionary Fellowship) Old Testament Parallel The Gospel of Q Street-level ecclesial community Wisdom of Jesus Son of Sirach Silingan Outreach Theological Dictionary of the New Testament Weimarer Ausgabe (Weimar edition of Luther’s works) World Council of Churches

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Chapter 1 B E I N G C H U R C H A M O N G T H E HOM E L E S S

Simon Chan’s recent book, Grassroots Asian Theology, elaborates on the reality that much of what we know in our western scholarly community about Asian Theology is based on a few Asian elitist theologians’ accounts that seldom have taken grassroots Christianity seriously. Yet, Chan eloquently argues that it is at the ‘grassroots level that we encounter a vibrant, albeit implicit, theology’.1 This book is an attempt to embrace Chan’s challenge in focusing on grassroots theology of God’s people living in Asia that may ‘yield a better theology for the Asian church and perhaps for the global church as well’.2 The grassroot familia Dei ecclesiology unfolds in a violent, abusive and oppressive urban space in an Asian city through the ecclesial narrative of a Filipino ecclesial community facing homelessness (FECH).3 This community consists of families and individuals who have been living in one particular park for many years and even decades. It is comprised of newborns to great-grandparents and is multi-ethnic and multi-lingual, as well as multi-religious. This study articulates the contours4 of this community’s selfunderstanding of being ‘church’ on the streets. The need for this investigation arises out of the reality that cities are significantly influencing global economy and global realities in general. Rapid urbanization and migration bring almost 180,000 people into cities across the world daily. Never

1. Simon Chan, Grassroots Asian Theology: Thinking the Faith from the Group Up (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2014), p. 7. 2. Ibid. 3. I want to state that I am aware, and so the reader should be, that I write from a ‘free Church’ perspective. Hence, when using the word ‘Church’, I cannot but use it from that particular perspective, even though in the ecumenical spirit I have aimed to be open minded and incorporate other voices outside my own tradition. The ecclesiology developed does not present my own tradition but as I am aware of my own bias, I have attempted to ensure to accurately describe the developing ecclesiology of the Filipino community facing homelessness through their own theological and ecclesial reflection. 4. I define contours to be empirical, theological as well as ecclesial markers or motifs that characterize the ecclesial identities, place and mission of the Filipino ecclesial community facing homelessness.

1

2

Urban Ecclesiology

before has the majority of the world’s population lived in urban areas. The United Nations estimate that by 2030, 60 per cent of all people will live in cities. In 1800, only 2 per cent of the global population occupied urban areas. Within the next 15 to 20 years many of the cities in Africa and Asia will double in size.5 To nurture a proper response to this reality, Dieter Georgi states: ‘Urban theology will be a major intellectual exercise in the universities and churches of tomorrow. It will, therefore, be a central element of an academic education in the future, in Asia even more than in Europe and the United States’.6 The urban ecclesiology described in this book, facing the extensive changes of urbanization, globalization and migration, as well as speficic problems and questions that emerge from the city, portrays a marginal narrative of the FECH that attempts to bring it into contemporary ecclesiological conversation in order to deepen the ecumenical understanding of today’s ecclesial reality. From the early days, the church has been an urban movement that engages the city.7 It is in this context that they ‘lived resistively towards the culture of Empire by meeting needs, offering hospitality, and celebrating new possibilities of community. They created alternative assemblies (ekklêsia) and households (oikos), which were a direct challenge to, and imitation of, the building blocks of Roman civic life.’8 The early church was the urban congregation of their times confessing the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Georgi explains: They understood themselves as incorporations of Jesus, the risen Christ and the living spirit. As such incorporations, they saw themselves as models for a truly urban life, where the ideals of the contemporary urban society, especially that of freedom, were realized. The new urban Christ communities knew of themselves as incorporated freedom, a challenge to their environment. Since they knew Christ to be incorporated in their communities, they displayed great confidence vis-à-vis their major competitor, the Caesar religion, and laid claim to the epoch of its future.9

The challenge of the Church today is not to settle into a private place in our urban sphere but to embed this prophetic spirit in their community in order to continue to engage in the city culture, as this is where ‘the destiny of humanity is

5. See The World Bank, Urbanization (2013), available from http://go.worldbank.org/ QHKRLTGH70 (accessed 30 April 2013). 6. Dieter Georgi, The City in the Valley: Biblical Interpretation and Urban Theology (Society of Biblical Literature, Studies in Biblical Literature, Vol. 7, Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2005), p. xxvii. 7. See Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983). 8. Andrew Davey, ‘Urban Mission’, Dictionary of Mission Theology: Evangelical Foundations (ed. John Corrie, Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2007), p. 419. 9. Georgi, The City in the Valley, pp. xxiii–xxiv.

Being Church Among the Homeless

3

being played out’.10 As this book will show, if the church engages with the spirituality of our cities, particularly the marginal urban space, it will nurture new ways of centring on God’s grace, re-reading the Gospel (the Gospel of Mark for this study) and Christ ‘taking form’ in ecclesial communities. This discourse with the spirituality in our urban marginal spaces contributes new knowledge of being church (a familia Dei ecclesiology in this case study) and shapes missional and spiritual practices.

I. Ecclesiology of the Marginalized This book seeks an intentional discourse between Ecclesiology and Marginalization. Yet, the prime emphasis is not on a historical, philosophical and theological treatise about Church and Marginality, but rather, on a marginal church’s narratives of struggle to embody Christ’s gracious presence in their midst. This is not to signify that marginal churches in general are insignificant or non-influential. Rather, as Henk de Roest notes, I use ‘marginal ecclesiologies’ as a non-judgemental term to describe churches whose ecclesiologies emerge ‘out of, or are located on, the margins of main-stream (or “traditional”) churches’.11 Ecclesiology at the margins is often understood as a reaction or opposition to the centre (traditional, or institutional) church.12 However, the ecclesiology developed by the marginal church in focus does not define itself in contrast or reaction to the institutional churches that function as the ‘privileged centers’.13 Jung Young Lee points out that those at the margins think differently from those living at the ‘privileged centers’. Even though those living at the margins and centre coexist in both worlds, if we seek an intentional emphasis on marginality, ‘we can restore the balance between the two poles. Such a balance, which creates harmony, finds a new center, the authentic center,14 which is no longer oppressive but liberative to the people located at the center or the margins.’15 Therefore, Urban 10. Manuel Castells and Jordi Borja, Local and Global: Management of Cities in the Information Age (London: Earthscan Publications Limited, 1997), p. 7. 11. Henk de Roest, ‘Ecclesiologies at the Margin’, The Routledge Companion to the Christian Church (ed. Gerard Mannion and Lewis Seymour Mudge; New York: Routledge, 2008), p. 251. 12. Ibid., pp. 251–65. 13. Ibid., p. 260. 14. Jung Lee’s use of the singular might be misunderstood to merely talk about one centre and one margin but Christian history does not reveal one centre of Christianity. At any given time there are multiple centres and through history they keep shifting. I see Lee challenge for the ‘privileged centres’ in Christianity to seek mutual discourse with the margins to nurture authentic centres (plural) that are not static but are continually formed in a mutual liberative relationship. 15. Jung Young Lee, Marginality: The Key to Multicultural Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), p. 31.

4

Urban Ecclesiology

Ecclesiology describes an ecclesiological investigation carried out ‘from the margins’, attempting a fruitful dialogue with each other, acknowledging each other’s values; such as stability, tradition and prudence at the centre, as well as more flexible, inclusivity and potential for innovation at the margins. In the context of the church and the margins, recent epistemological and demographic shifts have contributed towards a search for new ecclesial identities in the West (emerging churches, fresh expressions and so forth), as well as to new forms of church being developed in the South (for example insider movements). Approaching the theology of the church from these different perspectives and contexts contributes to deeper ecclesial reflections, instead of one Westernized understanding of the ontology of the church. However, using different hermeneutical tools and theological language can create serious misunderstanding. Therefore, the following two principles will guide this research. The first principle is Ecumenical in Nature. There is only One Church, but many churches (many forms of expression of that ONE Church). The underlying implication of this is that there is no one ecclesial identity, ecclesial vision, ecclesial structure, but many, as there is no one theology of the church. Richard P. McBrien reminds us that every attempt we make ‘to understand the ultimate meaning of the Church is just that: an attempt. “No one has ever seen God,” the Fourth Gospel reminds us (1:18), and no one, therefore, has ever seen the God who is present and active in the Church, which is the communal and institutional presence of the triune God in the world and history’.16 This study is ecumenical in nature as it seeks to ‘recognise in one another the Church of Jesus Christ’17 in order to promote the unity of the Church that Christ interceded for (John 17:20ff ). A scripturally grounded ecclesiology should have unifying effects on the body of Christ for the sake of its own essence and its being a witness and testimony in this world. Such a theology of the church seeks to encourage inclusions of other churches. It seeks dialogue instead of confrontation, in the spirit of Pope John XXIII’s declaration: Divine Providence is leading us to a new order of human relations which . . . are directed toward the fulfillment of God’s superior and inscrutable designs. And everything, even human differences, leads to the greater good of the Church.18

The second guiding principle is the Preferential Option for the Poor. The underlying assumption is derived from the Scriptural concept that the poor enjoy a hermeneutical privilege as God opts for the least in the world. As we fully seek to conceptualize who God is, the nature of the church, scripture and so forth, we need

16. Richard P. McBrien, The Church: The Evolution of Catholicism (New York: HarperOne, 2008), p. 16. 17. World Council of Churches, ‘The Nature and Mission of the Church: A Stage on the Way to a Common Statement’, Faith and Order Paper 198 (Geneva, Switzerland, 2005), p. 3. 18. Walter M. Abbott, The Documents of Vatican II (trans. Joseph Gallagher; New York: Guild Press, America Press, and Association Press, 1966), pp. 712–13.

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to mediate this through the lives of those at the margins. The ‘Other’ is then not about naming something distinct from ones’ own identity, but in the ‘otherness’ of the silenced and oppressed one finds much needed resources for ecclesiology and draws into a deeper attentiveness to the mediation of the ‘otherness’ or holiness of God’.19 Or as Amos Yong so eloquently pointed out, it is the mainstream that is dependent in the ‘otherness’ at the margins as ‘God’s saving grace is made available through “the stranger” or those on the margins, and we can receive this grace or not depending on how we respond. This is the criterion dividing the sheep and the goats at the judgment:“just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40).’20 This guiding principle of carefully listening to those that society marginalizes shapes the ecclesiological dialogue in this book. Yet, at the outset of this study, I have to acknowledge that the so seemingly noble project of describing an ecclesiology at the margins is doomed or at least crippled by its underlying philosophical attempt. Anyone who aims ‘to speak for, with, or about or even to listen to the poor, marginal, excluded, oppressed, or exploited’21 faces issues of ‘entitled advocates’. The emphasis on the ‘entitled’ means for Mark Taylor, ‘those who, usually by some group affiliation (class, ethnic identity, gender, educational experience, political position) or because of some combination of these affiliations, have an access to enabling power that others do not’.22 My ability and certainly privilege to enter and leave the marginal space of the FECH leaves me with two major problems regarding the practice of advocacy. First, it can create and reinforce the subalterns’ subalternity that can seem to be a key dynamic of imperialism.23 Second, even in the attempt to honour the marginal

19. John O’Brien, ‘The Quest for Pakistani Christian Identity: A Narrative of Religious other as Liberative Comparative Ecclesiology’, Church and Religious ‘Other’ (ed. Gerard Mannion; London and New York: T & T Clark, 2008), p. 78. 20. Amos Yong, Theology and Down Syndrome: Reimagining Disability in late Modernity (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2007), p. 188. 21. Mark Lewis Taylor, ‘Subalternity and Advocacy as Kairos for Theology’, Opting for the Margins: Postmodernity and Liberation in Christian Theology (ed. Joerg Rieger; New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 24, italics in original. 22. Ibid. 23. Taylor explains that the advocate must acknowledge that they are not able to ‘generate a discourse free from our own personal and cultural constructions . . . quite impossible for members working in an ethos of entitlement to undertake an erasure of themselves’ (ibid., p. 33). Therefore, Pui-lan Kwok states that despite the noble project of seeing the world from the underside of history, this may not bear much fruit in reality. Kwok asserts: ‘An honest admission of our privileged location and our limited epistemological vision does not undermine our work, but does qualify it and remind us to listen to the voices of those who are less privileged and those whom we have the potential to oppress’ (Pui-lan Kwok, Postcolonial Imagination and Feminist Theology (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005), p. 76).

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voices, there is always a tendency to misrepresent these voices as one who holds power and privilege struggles to authentically listen and advocate. No matter how noble and pure our hearts are in approaching the marginalized, there is a unique dynamic at the margins where our engagements (even its advocacy, service provider, missional outreaches, or doing academic research) can reinforce or even construct the very subalternity one seeks to address. The difficult challenge I was faced with in my research was finding ways to ‘hear and acknowledge the voice and speech of the subaltern without engaging in controlling exercises that reinforce their speechlessness’.24 To avoid as much as possible the problems of subalterns’ speechlessness, I followed Taylor’s four modes to move from a benevolent intellectual act of an ‘entitled advocacy’ to an ‘authentic advocacy’. First, the advocate needs to acknowledge the problems of reinforcing the subalternity of the marginal people. Being aware of the discursive power of doing this kind of research is crucial as this may extend my ‘academic authority to transnational context’.25 Second, any authentic advocate should be actively involved in resistance where he/she is from (institutions, neighbourhoods, schools, families, etc.) in order to develop mutual relationships of critique by the subalterns in that engagement. Third, the advocate ‘must realize that their own freedom and wholeness is at stake, not just that of some victimized subalterns other’.26 Fourth, the authentic advocate must ‘embrace a very specific kind of “delirium” that accompanies subaltern studies . . . the voice of the subordinate is, in a sense, no longer simply outside the advocate. This other is also in us, as well as outside us’.27 I do not claim to have mastered these four modes, far from it, but this research certainly has opened up a path for me where the marginal spiritualty transformed my way of seeing. It has been Christ’s presence in the exploited, the hungry, the homeless that gave me a ‘beatific vision’ (Thomas Aquinas) that all I can respond is, ‘One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!’ (Jn 9:25).28 Many have negated Gayatri Spivak’s rhetorical question: ‘Can the Subaltern Speak?’29 But from my experience, the subalterns do speak. However, I had to learn from this study that they often do not speak in the conventional ways that many of

24. Taylor, Subalternity and Advocacy as Kairos for Theology, p. 33. 25. Namsoon Kang, ‘Who/What is Asian? A Postcolonial Theological Reading of Orientalism and Neo-Orientalism’, Postcolonial Theologies: Divinity and Empire (eds Catherine Keller, Michael Nausner and Mayra Rivera; St. Louis, MO: Chalice Press, 2004), p. 113. 26. Taylor, Subalternity and Advocacy as Kairos for Theology, p. 36, italics in original. 27. Ibid., pp. 34–6, 37, italics in original. 28. Unless otherwise noted, Scripture references are taken from the New International Version (NIV), published by the International Bible Society, 1984. See also Robert Barron, And Now I see . . . A Theology of Transformation (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1998), where he skilfully argues that ‘Christianity is, above all, a way of seeing’. 29. Chakrovorty Gayatri Spivak, ‘Can the Subaltern Speak?’, Colonial Discourse and PostColonial Theory: A Reader (eds Patrick Williams and Laura Chrisman; New York: Columbia University Press, 1994).

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us are used to. As I engaged to carefully listen to them, I often wished they would articulate their voices more precisely. I wanted to listen but could not hear. In some sections of this book, I wished the voices would be clearer and sometimes they meander into the background. This research reflects in many ways some of that struggle. It is a desire to represent their voices, but perhaps, their voices often do not want or need to be presented, specifically in the way I preferred. Whereas my Western thinking often wanted to bring them to the centralized scholarly community – even with the good intention to learn from them – yet, their voices struggled to emerge in representable categories and language. I desired this book to be just one story after another where the FECH would articulate their deep theological and ecclesial inquiries; however, I learned that their voices spoke in more subtle ways. In this study, I had to learn from Tanya Lyons’ approach to research that is framed in the following manner: I do not claim to represent the subaltern but to acknowledge the absence of subaltern representation. To be unrepresented means to be unheard. To be heard means to be no longer subaltern. To represent the subaltern in this way means that they can become actors and agents of their own history. The point here is not to be the voice of the subaltern but to engage in a dialogue with her, thus privileging her voice in the context (and restraints) of academic research.30

I hope this study emphasizes this dialogue, advocating a solidarity relationship of a mutual liberation, something similar to Fr. Benigno Beltran’s experience in his Christological research among trash heap gatherers of the original Smokey Mountain in Tondo, Manila. Beltran found that for these garbage dump workers, the crucified Christ is best expressed in the reverence and tranquility of their faces. He had to move away from westernized concepts and categories to comprehend The Christology of the Inarticulate. Instead of describing the FECH’s voices in a clear cognitive dimension, the voices are more heard along the line of the Filipino religious experience that ‘moves in the direction of vision, image, ritual, reflection, mediations’.31 Beltran, relevantly for the Filipino popular religious forms of expressions, describes the Christology of the inarticulate, and perhaps this study represents some voices on an ecclesiology of the inarticulate. At the end of this study, what most truly impacted my relationship to Christ and his bride was not the well-articulated ecclesiology of my dialogue partners such as Bonhoeffer, Barth, Moltmann and Volf, but the inarticulate ecclesiology of the FECH that will surely leave a lasting impact. In that sense, the term, ecclesiology of the inarticulate is misleading, as it is not that the urban poor are not speaking out as anybody who journeys with them can witness. But, we often do not hear

30. Tanya Lyons, Guns and Guerilla Girls: Women in the Zimbabwean National Liberation Struggle (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2004), p. 6, italics in original. 31. Benigno P. Beltran, The Christology of the Inarticulate: An Inquiry into the Filipino Understanding of Jesus the Christ (Manila, Philippines: Divine Word, 1987), p. 6.

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their articulation because they are expressed in much more subtle narratives. As I attempt to describe their ecclesiology, I struggle with my own inarticulation as I heard categories and expressions that were different from my own graduate training. Hence, in the attempt of this study to describe their ecclesiology is also a narrative of transformation where what seems inarticulate at the margins becomes prophetic.

II. Contours of the Research Project ‘Who touched my clothes?’ Jesus asked the crowd, as He walked down the street and realized power had gone out of Him (Mk. 5:30). But, unlike Jesus asking around, on the streets of the inner city of southern Philippines I stared straight into the eyes of the single mother facing homelessness, the young sunshine girl (child prostitute), the runaway child and youth-at-risk, the male and the gay in the sex trade. Just like the bleeding woman, these street-level people have suffered a great deal and have spent all they had, and instead of getting better they have grown worse. Just like the woman, society’s culture has declared them unclean, unable to participate in society, and pushed them into a hidden part of our city’s scenery. How could I have walked by them for so many years and never seen them? How could I have lived in this city for so many years and never heard their cries and pains? What surprised me most was, where I initially perceived the individuals and families living on the streets, as time went by I started to see the groups they were imbedded in – whole communities living on the streets. The compelling reasons for this study derive from this background, and an ecclesially oriented paradigm provides the impetus behind the research of this book. An ecclesial-oriented approach aims to foster ecclesial communities within the populations facing homelessness. This study is a research into long-neglected communities within our urban life. An investigation that reveals a gap in the literature that would primarily advocate approaches such as evangelistic outreaches, providing services, rescue and rehabilitation projects while often rejecting the idea of discipleship and emerging ecclesial communities at the grassroots level, on the streets. This study attempts to describe the developing ecclesiology of one such community, a Filipino community facing homelessness (FECH).32 The findings

32. Due to the subject matter, such as people’s stories of facing homelessness, I have omitted all mention of the place in which this study took place and used pseudonyms for all the sources of names mentioned here, including participant interviewees. Also, in order to narrow its focus and facilitate the development of an ecclesial-oriented paradigm for serving the homeless population, this study focuses on examining the developing ecclesiology of one particular Filipino community facing homelessness during the period of from 2003 to 2012. It is beyond the scope of this study to interact with other street-level churches. To qualify for this study, members of the community facing homelessness have to meet the minimum requirement of either living or having lived a substantial amount of time on the streets.

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will contribute towards further developing an ecclesially oriented paradigm. This theoretical construct provides a more holistic way of serving the homeless population, or at least, it contributes to a much-needed area of missional engagement with homeless populations. Its findings may not offer generalizations that can be applied to other contexts or communities, but the narrative of this ecclesial communal identity provides crucial data. Most significantly, this research can bring light to potential interests and implications that can be relevant to some other street-level communities. This project is significant because urban theology developed at the margins may provide crucial theological reflection for the homeless living in contemporary urban communities. Specifically, it contributes theological understanding of urban life, that is, it ‘encompasses the concerns of an urbanizing world and the condition of the Christian presence and witness in it, rooted in the struggles of the poor to shape and own their communities – whether it is the physical environment in which they live, the civil arrangements, or the ekklêsia (the Church) that they form around the Scripture and the Eucharist’.33 The theological analysis of this study contributes to and seeks to promote further research into developing local theologies among the homeless population. This project then is not only transformative for the homeless population, but also provides insightful interpretation that contributes to a better understanding of Scripture. The questions this project seeks to answer are not so much missiological or theological as they are ecclesial. The research findings might contribute to missiological and church planting theory, particularly in the context of urban mission, and it will contribute to the theology of the Gospel of Mark. However the main methodological framework and assumptions are drawn from ecclesial studies. With regard to describing the developing ecclesiology of a particular FECH, the main research question is: What are the contours of Church that emerge among the FECH? These contours are empirical, theological and ecclesial markers of the FECH’s self-understanding of ‘church’ and are characterized in the FECH’s ecclesial identity, place and mission. These three questions relating to the church’s identity, its own mission, and its place within society are closely interconnected, intersecting and influencing each other. The first question alluded to is what is the nature of the Church? The question about the identity of the Church is about the unmistakeable, the actual one. As we identify and describe the identity of the Church, we are able to identify what makes a church the Church. As the identity of the Church is defined, an investigation into the FECH will determine whether it is a church or not. This inquiry into the essence of the true Church seeks to differentiate between the Church and other religious providers, as well as culture. Second, we need to ask what is the purpose of Church? The Church by its very nature is mission-driven, as its identity is formed and nurtured in the mission of

33. Andrew Davey, Urban Christianity and Global Order: Theological Resources for an Urban Future (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002), pp. 7, 11.

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the Triune God (missio dei). It is the church’s missionary identity that defines the purpose and place of the Church in society. The final question this study explores, is where is the Church? As in many societies, the place of the Church is often contested. This investigation will give insight into the place the Church has in society, with a particular focus on what place the FECH occupies in its society. The location of the place of the Church is built upon the definition of the ecclesiality of the Church. My contribution will be some reflections on ecclesial being. I will use the data from the FECH to interact with the ongoing scholarly discussion regarding the nature and mission of the Church by providing ecclesiological reflections from the margins. These marginal ecclesiological narratives provide a fresh perspective on the exploration of our ecclesial reality. Justo González notes that the ‘vision of the value of marginalization is crucial not only for the reading of Scripture, but also for the reading of the history of the Church and even for reading our task as a Church today’.34 Church history reveals the ever-changing challenges of fleshing out the gospel in a particular historical reality. Quite commonly, ‘[t]he old center thinks that it knows best, and the periphery even bows before it. . . . But quite often it is the periphery that drives the center to new discoveries.’35 This is the power found in the hidden; the margins provide the vital source for the renewing process of the historical and contemporary Church. Nevertheless, I am surprised to find myself writing a book on ecclesiology, in particular, what it means to be the church. There is a common saying that I have often heard among Christians, ‘Jesus yes; Church no’. As I reflected on my work among this Filipino homeless community, I found myself influenced by the epistemological, philosophical and theological underpinnings in my earlier years that underlie this slogan. Like many others of my generation, I have found great interest in Christ, but institutional religion affronted me. In addition, I often felt alienated from the church as I was confronted with media reports of sexual abuse, financial exploitation, gender injustice, exclusions of the least or just plain boredom of traditional church service. What do we do when we encounter a church that in the words of Karl Barth ‘makes itself a harlot, as has happened and still does happen’?36 I grew up in the church, I found Christ in the church (a community that carried me through my difficult stages of teenage life); I never rejected the church, but I often found it difficult to walk with the church. In my own spiritual journey as an adult, I have noted that if my wife had not ‘strongly’ encouraged me to regularly attend the

34. Justo L. González, Santa Biblia: The Bible through Hispanic Eyes (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1996), p. 45. 35. Aram Keshishian, ‘Report of the Moderator: Growing Towards a Full Koinonia’, The Ecumenical Review Vol. 44, Issue 1 (1992), pp. 51–2. 36. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics: The Doctrine of Reconciliation (trans. Geoffrey William Bromiley; Vol. 4:1, study edition 23; London: T & T Clark, original edition 1961, 2010), p. 180.

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church with her, I would have tended towards ‘believe without belonging’.37 Sadly, I have friends who ‘believe without belonging’ and today are no longer interested in Christ. Their belief has faded as they sought a life without belonging. As belonging is a vital element to any Christian life, Richard Rice points out that belonging should take ‘priority over believing and behaving. Belief and practices are essential to Christian experience, of course, but its central feature, the most important and comprehensive element, is sharing in the life of the community.’38 Stanley Hauerwas further explains that ‘Christianity is not beliefs about God plus behavior. We are not Christians because of what we believe, but because we have been called to be disciples of Jesus. To become a disciple is not a matter of a new or changed self-understanding, but rather to become part of a different community with a different set of practices.’39 The mantra ‘Jesus yes; Church no’, has its influence not only within our postmodern context, but describes a dilemma found in the paradoxical nature of the church that sometimes seems to contribute towards a divide between Christ and His Church. However, everything changed as I took time for this study to try to understand the mystery of Christ’s body. Barth concludes the sentence cited above saying, that this church is ‘always the bride of Jesus Christ’.40 If it is the bride of Christ, the question that often rose in me during this research was, Jesus have I loved, but the Church? Systematic and deep reflection helped me move beyond seeing the church merely through my human eyes to seeing the church as the breathtaking splendour the Lord intended his church to be – as the spotless, pure, virgin bride of Christ. Similarly, I experienced a shift in my urban missional journey that started with a more individualist approach of proclaiming Jesus’ apocalyptic teaching of the kingdom of God without interest in exploring church and street life. However, I started learning that faith in God not only draws us closer to him but also contains an intense, community-forming dimension. Even though God’s eschatological hope is central to the teaching and life of Jesus, I observe in his life and ministry that this never prevented him from actually establishing a community in the ‘now’. Scripture exhibits that God’s salvific invitation to the individual is also a call to become God’s people. In the exodus story of Israel’s liberation one not only observes simply a freedom from oppression but a freedom for the formation of a covenant community.41 Similarly, those who believe in the incarnate Christ do not merely

37. World Council of Churches, ‘The Nature and Mission of the Church: A Stage on the Way to a Common Statement’, Faith and Order Paper 198 (Geneva, Switzerland, 2005), p. 13. 38. Richard Rice, Believing, Behaving, Belonging; Finding New Love for the Church (Roseville, CA: The Association of Adventist Forums, 2002), p. 204. 39. Stanley Hauerwas, After Christendom?: How the Church is to Behave if Freedom, Justice, and a Christian Nation are Bad Ideas (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1991), p. 107. 40. Barth, Church Dogmatics, p. 180. 41. Michael Walzer, Exodus and Revolution (New York: Basic Books, 1985), pp. 53, 73–90; see also Richard R. Gaillardetz, Ecclesiology for a Global Church: A People Called and Sent (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2008), p. 12.

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experience freedom from their sin but also a freedom for the formation of an ecclesial community. Richard Gaillardetz explains that the church was formed as a natural response to an encounter with the Messiah and ‘the coming of the Spirit that the early Christians believed to be essential for the establishment of a community of believers’.42 Whereas my main focus in the beginning was on developing a Christian presence on the streets and proclaiming the good news of Jesus, I saw and experienced with the urban poor how the Spirit initiates godly transformation, not only on an individual level, but also within a gathering of a street-level ecclesial community. After years of participant observation and informal ethnographical research engagement, I started to see more clearly the social network of those living on the streets.43 A vision emerged of an ecclesial-oriented approach to exploring how these social networks of homeless people develop into ecclesial communities; this became the core focus of this research. I have been involved with the FECH since late 2003 in an action/reflection project of what it means to follow Christ and live this out in a street-level community. The findings of this research might contribute towards a more communal and heuristic paradigm of serving the homeless, instead of the more general individualized theoretical orientations. To avoid a ‘faceless construct’,44 the empirical and theological, as well as ecclesial data, derive from my engagement with one particular community facing homelessness. The missional engagement with the urban poor and our cities is a central issue in contemporary missiology. In 2007 humanity experienced the pivotal year in human history when for the first time more people lived in cities than in rural areas. John Grimmond states: ‘Human history will ever more emphatically become urban history.’45 The reality is that cities are centres of power and they are interconnected across the globe.46 They are ‘strategic sites in a new geography of centrality and marginality, which reproduces many of the old inequalities in new clusters’.47 Cities today stand for the identities and ideologies of our global world and ‘are a cultural reflection of our common humanity in all of its beauty and depravity’.48 42. Gaillardetz, Ecclesiology for a Global Church, pp. 18–19. 43. The government acknowledged this particular research community in 2012 and asked them to form an official association. What the government initially perceived as individuals and families living on the streets are now officially recognized as a community. It was their ecclesial community structure that helped them get organized and start to advocate together for their needs to access better government resources. 44. Trutz Rendtorff, Kirche und Theologie. Die Systematische Funktion des Kirchenbegriffs in der Neueren Theologie (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus G. Mohn, 1966), p. 9. 45. John Grimmond, The World Goes to Town (2007), available from http://www. economist.com/node/9070726 (accessed 5 June 2012). 46. Harvie M. Conn and Manuel Ortiz, Urban Ministry: The Kingdom, the City and the People of God (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2001), pp. 205, 233. 47. Davey, Urban Christianity and Global Order, p. 29. 48. David P. Leong, Street Signs: Toward a Missional Theology of Urban Cultural Engagement (American Society of Missiology Monograph Series, Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2012), p. 2.

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‘Cities are the places where the destinies of nations are determined’, Roger Greenway maintains because they ‘are the centers of communication, commerce, cultural life, and government.’49 Therefore, a growing awareness of the importance of cities has surfaced in many recent theologies. The aims of these urban theologies are to foster the godly transformation of our cities, and to understand how it is that in contemporary cities, people ‘connected by imperial histories are thrust together in assemblages barely predicted, and often guarded against, during the inaugural phases of colonialism. Often enough this is a meeting not simply augmented by imperialism but still regulated by its constructs of difference and privilege.’50 The United Nations reports that one of the greatest ironies of today’s rapid urbanization has been that the negative aspects of the urban scene are now seen as ‘normal’ (for example, slums and homeless populations).51 Cities are often marked with spaces that can be read as ‘a landscape of exclusion’ with ‘the relegation of weaker groups to less desirable environments’.52 In these ‘out of place’ spaces in our urban environment we find excluded from society, the urban poor, undocumented workers, sex workers and the homeless population. This study seeks to challenge churches to establish Christ’s presence through communities of disciples in these spaces of social and spatial exclusion. For Roger S. Greenway and Timothy M. Monsma it is clear, ‘if the Lord were here physically, I believe he would minister intensely to street people. They are the most visible modern example of what Jesus called “the least of these my brothers”.’53 Scholars have pointed out that Scripture places great emphasis on the city as a pivotal place in the unfolding of God’s plan of redemption.54 God’s heart for the poor frames the Church’s mandate to engage with those living on the margins of our societies. So we must ask, ‘How will we do that?’ As many scholars and practitioners have noted, how we help is crucial. Either our involvement can be truly transformative for the individual and community life, or, sadly, as sometimes the case with church outreaches, it contributes to further hurts and oppressions. Robert Lupton, in his book Toxic Charity: How Churches and Charities Hurt Those They Help (and How to Reverse It) observes: ‘For all our efforts to eliminate poverty – our entitlements, our

49. Roger S. Greenway, Apostles to the City: Biblical Strategies for Urban Missions (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1978), p. 26. 50. Jane M. Jacobs, Edge of Empire: Postcolonialism and the City (London and New York: Routledge, 1996), p. 4. 51. United Nations Centre for Human Settlements, An Urbanizing World: Global Report on Human Settlements (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. xxi. 52. David Sibley, Geographies of Exclusion: Society and Difference in the West (New York: Routledge, 1995), p. ix. 53. Roger S. Greenway, and Timothy M. Monsma, Cities: Missions’ New Frontier (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2nd edn, 2000), p. 181. 54. Harvie M. Conn, Discipling the City: A Comprehensive Approach to Urban Mission (ed. Roger S. Greenway; 2nd edn, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1992), p. 14; see also Davey, Urban Christianity and Global Order, p. 206.

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programs, our charities – we have succeeded only in creating a permanent underclass, dismantling their family structures, and eroding their ethic of work. And our poor continue to become poorer.’55 Even when we serve with a pure heart and with compassion, our approaches and strategies are crucial in implementing holistic changes.

III. Paradigms for Serving the Homeless Populations When it comes to serving urban homeless populations, I have observed basically seven main paradigms that shape unique approaches and strategies to serve the homeless population: object-oriented; service-oriented; rescue-oriented; advocacyoriented; psychologically-oriented; pastoral-oriented; and ecclesial-oriented. The first paradigm I call object-oriented. It can be observed in government agencies and churches that enter street life. For both, the homeless are seen as objects that need to be saved or helped. Government agencies are moved by local, national and international pressure to clean up their streets. Homeless people disturb the urban scenery and hence, the homeless are often seen as intruders.56 Churches move into the streets undertaking various evangelistic endeavours to preach the Gospel and create opportunities for the homeless to repent. The homeless are seen as sinners, needing to repent and change their lives. Even though the homeless people are often seen as objects and intruders who need to be saved or helped, I have observed that sometimes a homeless person would respond positively and leave the streets. However, often I hear they are soon back on the streets as they did not feel understood by the churches or government agency and preferred a life on the streets. Nevertheless, some are helped by this approach and leave street-life behind, hence, it can be a good stepping stone for the homeless to exit street life. The strategies developed from the object-oriented paradigm view the homeless population as a target for mission. This approach is based on a paternalistic onestream communication concept where the homeless population is seen as an object in great need of help. As an object-oriented approach lies in extending the help, the process of providing the extended help is often not evaluated, resulting regularly in demeaning the dignity and integrity of those involved. It does not give space for their voices or stories to be told and does not truly seek to understand them. Yet, as Carl Resener rightly points out, we need to be aware that often the homeless do not want to be treated as helpless, even though they sometimes accept temporary help.57

55. Robert D. Lupton, Toxic Charity: How Churches and Charities Hurt Those They Help (and How to Reverse It) (New York: HarperOne, 2011), p. 3; see also Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert, When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty without Hurting the Poor – and Yourself (Chicago, IL: Moody Publishers, 2009). 56. Carl R. Resener, Crisis in the Streets (Nashville TN: Broadman Press, 1988), p. 18. 57. Ibid., p. 105.

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A relationship of engagement must be developed because the poor often see beyond the person offering help. They gladly receive the help they get, and do what is expected like saying the sinner’s prayer, etc., however, often they close their hearts as the process is demeaning for them. Government agencies are too often forced to respond because of local, national and international pressure, instead of being motivated by compassion. Similarly, some churches see the homeless as an easy target for their evangelistic endeavours and do not take time to get to know them but rather simply emphasise delivering their message of repentance. If one takes the time to actually listen to the homeless, one would hear countless stories of great frustrations, disappointments, feeling misunderstood, and facing barriers with churches. Not only are there various internal barriers for effective evangelism among the urban poor, but also through various abusive encounters with the institutional church, the poor have formed barriers to truly trusting and opening their hearts. The challenges lie for anybody who is involved in serving the homeless in constantly re-evaluating one’s process of serving them, to ensure that barriers are broken down and the process is affirming that the poor are made in the image of God. Any outreaches should affirm their dignity and integrity. Another paradigm I observed is being service-oriented. This is probably one of the most prominent approaches today in serving the homeless population. At the core of this paradigm is the development of services such as shelters, food, medical assistance, Christian counselling, downtown churches opening their doors to the homeless populations. Many urban theologians advocate that churches should support these facilities as much as they can. Most of the writings on urban mission focus on how churches can get involved in providing services to the poor. They refer to the prophetic call of Isaiah 58:7 that more churches should embrace and start to hear the cry of the homeless population in their desperate need. I have seen the transformative effect in churches who have started to open their doors to the homeless or regularly to provide services for the homeless. Truly, there should be a strong emphasis in churches and government agencies on creating programmes, policies and outreaches that serve the homeless as they experience the greatest marginalization in cities. Many of those involved are moved by great compassion and love for the poor. One of the service-oriented paradigm’s weaknesses could be what Charles Strobel mentions in his book, Room in the Inn: Ways Your Congregation Can Help Homeless People, that due to having to focus fully on providing services, almost no time is left for building relationships. This book, on the topic of providing housing, explains how busy they were in ensuring all the homeless get a place to sleep, so that there was little if any interaction between the homeless and staff to build relationships.58 As I heard often from those engaging in providing services to the homeless, the service complicates the relationship. For instance someone might attend the Bible study because they want supper afterwards or merely want a place

58. Charles F. Strobel, Room in the Inn: Ways Your Congregation Can Help Homeless People (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1992), pp. 54–55.

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to sleep. Whenever we provide service this is associated with power. There is always a tendency to misuse power, even though the motive might be good. The poor might join a Bible study or a prayer time, in order to receive the service afterwards. However, this may lead them to see the service as primarily an attempt by the church of proselytism. The Gospel may be misunderstood as merely seeking membership or conversion. Those providing services have been a blessing to the homeless, a sign of God’s love and kingdom to them, but along the way some have missed out on building relationships that could lead into deeper discipleship. If we are involved in any capacity of providing service to the homeless, we should make sure these programmes are a means of building relationships. Providing services is crucial in helping the homeless, but we need to move beyond just meeting the immediate need to ensuring that a relationship can be built where we can learn from each other about who our God is and if someone has no or little knowledge about the Gospel, it can be explained. The rescue-oriented paradigm moves beyond just seeing the homeless as objects in need of services. Life on the streets is too violent, abusive and oppressive, hence nobody should be living on the streets.59 The streets in our cities are created for transportation and not for habitation.60 Anybody who has been working on the streets can fully understand this sentiment. I too have known far too many street friends who have been killed, and heard too many stories of kids who have been abused and of great injustice that often keeps the homeless helpless and oppressed. Within this rescue mentality, many government agencies and churches have created centres that provide help in rehabilitating street people back into society. These centres provide a great place for any street living person or family who seeks a way out of the street. These rehabilitation and rescue places (for example orphanages or single-mother homes) are of great importance in serving the homeless population and they are worthy of support. However, if we are more concerned with getting the street people into our churches, out of their environment, we easily become very judgemental of their environment. A rescue-oriented paradigm can greatly motivate someone to help the homeless, but, wrongly placed, it can also prevent them from seeking to understand. Whatever the reason might be, some homeless people continue to live on the streets, some even for decades. Instead of seeking to understand their lives and finding ways to enhance their quality of life, they are too often judged for living on the streets. Moreover, the rescue mentality sometimes found in churches and urban mission writing has not just judged the lifestyle, but also equally judged the spiritual and moral growth of those living on the streets. In many cities we find groups who serve the homeless population by being advocacy-oriented. These are groups that are formed to specifically advocate locally, nationally and internationally for the homeless population. They often represent the voices of the voiceless and work hard to ensure that government and Churches hear these voices. Experts (for example Robert Linticum, Andrew Davey, 59. Greenway and Monsma, Cities, p. 188. 60. Resener, Crisis in the Streets, p. 20.

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Harvie M. Conn, Manuel Ortiz, etc.) have pointed out that the consequences of homelessness need not only to be addressed on a micro-level but we need to also consider the macro-level impacts. Advocacy groups work hard on structural changes and public policies that greatly help the homeless population. Such decisions have a great impact on a macro-level and it is crucial to have representatives for the homeless in these levels. Andrew Davey argues that we need to understand how global factors impact our cities; if we don’t, our Churches will be reduced to individualistic pietism and dogmatic introspection. These advocacy groups understand global players, structural injustice and oppression and work hard to effect changes for the sake of the homeless. A danger with groups operating with an advocacy-oriented paradigm is that, over time, they may be separated more and more from the grassroots. Initially fuelled by grassroots stories and their engagement with the poor, they might find themselves more often in important meetings so that over time they lose touch with what is really happening on the streets and with what is most urgent. Therapists such as clinical and counselling psychologists have advocated for a social psychologically-oriented paradigm in serving the homeless population. The homeless are seen as mentally ill, addicted to drugs and alcohol or living in a culture of poverty.61 Elsewhere I have argued that the poor often experience a reflexive oppression62 as a pattern of deception which often results in a marred identity and an internal conflict of a double consciousness (rural/urban, spiritism/ religious, superstitious/modernity, etc.).63 Therapists and churches or urban practitioners adopting this approach seek ways of transforming these patterns of reflexive oppressions. Also, professional help is sought for the mentally ill and those with addiction problems. They provide projects to raise drug and alcohol

61. Oscar Lewis first developed the theory of the culture of poverty where he identifies a list of approximately 70 interrelated social, economic and psychological traits. People living in a culture of poverty experience situations where they tend to feel alienated from the goals of the larger society and at the same time these goals seems unattainable to them. Consequently, Lewis argues that they experience psychological adjustment, in that while they may express their hopelessness and despair, nevertheless, they develop traits, which are coping mechanisms to meet their current needs. These traits create a lifestyle that gives birth to a common culture among the poor, or more accurately, a subculture. This occurs because most of the time the poor are unable to access resources from the larger society due to not being eligible for them, their ignorance of the resources, or their inability to afford them. See Oscar Lewis, La Vida: A Puerto Rican Family in the Culture of Poverty–San Juan and New York (New York: Vintage Books, 1968), pp. xliv–xlv. 62. Pascal Bazzell, ‘Toward a Creational Perspective on Poverty: Genesis 1:26–28, Image of God, and Its Missiological Implications’, Genesis and Christian Theology (eds Nathan MacDonald, Mark W. Elliott and Grant Macaskill; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), pp. 232–37. 63. Ibid., p.  236. See also Pascal Bazzell, ‘Transforming the Public Sphere: Facilitating Churches Planting at the Margins’, Journal for Asian Mission 15:2 (2014), pp. 29–47.

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awareness. Projects are developed that seek to provide psychological care to seek healing of the whole homeless person. However, sometimes the homeless population is mainly seen as clients, which often results in not developing a mutually beneficial relationship. Another paradigm is the pastoral-oriented approach. Instead of seeing the homeless as objects, persons who need our services or help to get out of the streets, this paradigm is moved by a pastoral heart. It enters the streets with a heart for journeying with the people, and building deep and healthy relationships, including a pastoral ministry to those who ask for it. The emphasis is not so much on the evangelistic endeavour of getting the street people saved and into a church, but on providing discipleship on the streets. They are seen as God’s children who need pastoral care, just as any believer in a church. It comes from a desire to help the brokenhearted over a longer period to work towards healing. It seeks to care for those on the streets and to be their Pastor. I wish there were many more Christians who truly become pastors for the individuals and families facing homelessness.64 One weakness of a pastoral oriented paradigm could be the individualist emphasis on this approach, which leaves the homeless population alone if the pastor stops engaging and no emphasis is given on training some of the homeless to become pastors or spiritual leaders. A more helpful way to implement the pastoral oriented approach would be to train someone to follow the pastor from the beginning. Training some of the homeless in pastoral ministry may allow the homeless population to accept the message more readily, as the pastor facing homelessness would know their culture better, as well as their struggles, their code of living, and the hermeneutics of making sense of life and Scripture.

IV. Advocacy for an Ecclesial-oriented Paradigm Each of the paradigms described so far has its own strengths and weaknesses. Sometimes, urban practitioners merge or use several elements of these schemes to construct their own strategies or just one particular strategy is used and conscious steps are taken to limit or even eliminate its weaknesses. This research seeks to develop the ecclesial-oriented paradigm. It does not diminish other paradigms but seeks to contribute to a more comprehensive approach to serving the homeless population. A best-case scenario would be an amalgamation of various strategies and approaches in which different urban practitioners, government agencies, NGOs, and churches help each other and provide different and complementary kinds of engagement with the individuals and families who are facing homelessness. However, I advocate an ecclesial-oriented paradigm because I regard it as the most

64. See Henk de Roest, ‘God At Street Level: Theological Identity in Pastoral Care Among Homeless and Drug Addicts’, Explorations in Ecclesiology and Ethnography (ed. Christian Batalden Scharen; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), pp. 165–75.

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scholarly, as well as theologically, and missionally underdeveloped approach. It has been explored in various grassroots contexts, but so far there is very little systematic research on this approach. This study seeks to remedy this gap. My starting point for an ecclesial-oriented paradigm65 is the acknowledgement of a communal identity66 among those individuals and families who are facing homelessness. There are groups of people (for example, homeless communities, the vagabonds in Europe, nomads) whose lifestyles would be considered by the majority as unsafe, risky and unstable. However, these social networks have over time developed their own cultural identities and structures relevant to their own contexts and lifestyles. Furthermore, experiencing today the realities of overurbanization, overpopulation and underemployment, more people come into our streets daily, who for various reason have chosen to build intentional communities of their own. John Bruhn explains that it does not matter if someone is housed or homeless because: We are inherently social in nature. Through our social encounters we acquire a web of interpersonal social relationships. These relationships form the basis of our personal social networks. It is through social networks that we negotiate our social worlds. Even in dire circumstances, people usually manage to connect with others to maximize their survival.67

The reality is that the homeless population and community are seldom associated. Spencer E. Cahill and Lyn H. Lofland state that in most scholarly discourse the reality of the streets is understood as the antithesis of community. They observe that the street ‘is the site of total anonymity, impersonality, isolation, alienation, normlessness, and most particularly, and in consequence, menace’.68 Although Cahill and Lofland wrote nearly two decades ago, still, today, we observe that in church outreaches, public policies, educational programmes, economic projects and scholarly discourse are mostly focused on the individual or families on the streets. While these are of course very important, they further marginalize the awareness of communities on the streets. Hence, failing to understand streetlevel social networks limits the relevance and effectiveness of much work to address some of the challenges that arise from the homeless population’s communal identity.

65. For an initial argumentation for this paradigm, see Pascal Bazzell, ‘Ecclesial Identity and the Excluded Homeless Population: A Funnel Ecclesiology as a Framework of Inclusion’, Ecclesiology and Exclusion: Boundaries of Being and Belonging in Postmodern Times (eds Dennis Doyle, Tim Fury and Pascal Bazzell; Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2012). 66. Chapter 4 provides an empirical description of the FECH. 67. John G. Bruhn, The Sociology of Community Connections (New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers, 2004), p. 80. 68. Spencer E. Cahill and Lyn H. Lofland, The Community of the Streets (Greenwich, UK: Emerald Group Publishing Limited, 1984), p. xi.

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There is an extensive conversation occurring between ecclesiologies, church planting theories or urban missions literature regarding church plantings amongst the urban poor. However, when it comes to the homeless population, there seems an immediate shift to an approach of commodity-based benevolence with a rescue and rehabilitation mentality. The reality is that most urban mission textbooks do not acknowledge the ecclesial-oriented approach or even blandly reject it as not being possible. Nevertheless, ecclesial communities of the streets are simply streetlevel, and not intrinsically incomplete because they take this form. But there are almost no or at least very limited resources in ecclesiologies, church planting theories or urban missions literature to assist one to ecclesially minister to the street-level communities.69 This is, for example, seen in the classical textbook on urban mission by Greenway and Monsma: The street is not a place where long-term spiritual and moral growth can be expected to occur. The street has too much evil, too many influences that entice, enslave, and beckon back. It’s a place where Christian can make contact with the destitute and homeless, show them love, build relationships of trust, and introduce them to Jesus. But after that, the homeless should be taken to a rehabilitation center where their lives can be reordered under the care of Christian.70

It has even been suggested that those who continue to choose to live on the streets may perhaps have rejected life and even God.71 In my many years working in the context of a very violent and abusive street life, I do understand such sentiments, but still want to ask; ‘Since when is a place too violent, abusive and oppressive for someone to grow in their faith in Christ and live that out in their context? Does not faith often thrive in these areas?’ There might be a tendency for outsiders to the community facing homelessness to quickly judge someone living on the streets, as it is just too hard for us to comprehend why someone would be living there. However, in the years I have seen many people facing homelessness who have exhibited great faith in God and practice this in their relationships. In no way do I seek to romanticize street life, as these Christians facing homelessness are in no way living an easy life, but one of great temptation and struggle.

69. Tobey O. Pitman and Roddy Keith Youree come to the same conclusion in their doctoral research. However, both authors stay within the paradigm of developing strategies for congregationalizing the homeless people. See Tobey O.Pitman, Developing a Strategy for Congregationalizing Homeless People at the Brantley Baptist Center in New Orleans, Louisiana (unpublished doctoral dissertation, New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, 2004); and Roddy Keith Youree, Developing a Church-Based Model for Relational Ministries Among the Homeless (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, 2007). 70. Greenway and Monsma, Cities, p. 188. 71. Helen Sheed, ‘Street Addiction Can Be Broken’, Street Children: A Guide to Effective Ministry (ed. Phyllis Kilbourn; Monrovia, CA: MARC, 1997), p. 134.

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In either case, the findings of this research show that these social street-level groupings challenge the global church. Certainly, we need to think through our ecclesiologies, church planting theories and urban missions discourse and truly ask ourselves: will we continue to ignore them, or are we willing to acknowledge these marginal communal identities among us? For too long, we have endeavoured to seek ways that these street-level communities might embrace our residential ecclesiologies, come to our churches or follow our church practices, which often served to widen the gap between our churches and homeless populations. Of course, this approach is contrary to the general practice and written recommendations which typically seek ways to integrate the homeless into our churches and expect them to adopt our values and practices, which can result in more hurts among the homeless population. Greenway and Monsma note: Relating the homeless and the poor to established middle-class Churches is not easy. In some cases it is impossible. Some very high barriers stand between them. For one thing, poor people naturally feel uneasy in most Churches. They know that their clothes are shabby and dirty, and they haven’t been able to take a bath in weeks. Besides, they may have had some bad experiences with Churches years ago, and there may be shadows in their lives which Church people have a way of calling back. On the other side of the aisle, middle-class Church member often feel awkward and apprehensive when they see a street person in the pew. The stranger’s behavior may be alarming, and some other factors may frankly irritate. Except for good and well-intentioned acts of benevolence, most Church members are not equipped to handle street people or minister to them in the way they require.72

Instead of putting all our energy and resources in seeking ways of integration and rehabilitation, an ecclesial-oriented approach promotes being Church at the street level. The hope of an ecclesial-oriented approach is that communities living on the streets are being equipped to articulate biblical systems and practices appropriate to their ecclesiologies. Therefore, this study is based on carefully listening to the FECH as they dialogued with scripture, and their own contexts, pilgrimages and church traditions, in order to articulate their own ecclesiologies.73 As the FECH articulate their own ecclesial reflections, they may contribute a fresh and unique perspective to the traditional discourse on ecclesial reality. John O’Brien explains that there are multiplicities of different ecclesiological narratives. Seldom heard, they are likely to be ignored, silenced or sidelined (for example church narratives of women, the poor and excluded). He points out that ‘their narrative, precisely as their narrative, was non-existent. Without such narratives, forming as they do a corrective ecclesiology “from below,” from “outside the gates,” ecclesiological

72. Greenway and Monsma, Cities, p. 187. 73. See, for example, Leonardo Boff, Ecclesiogenesis: The Base Communities Reinvent the Church (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1997).

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conversation risks being bland and comfortable, lacking any capacity to articulate how “the sacred and subversive memory” of Jesus can transform contemporary experience.’74 Any ecclesiology that takes serious Christ assurance to be with the marginalized (Mt. 25:31–46) provides a potential productive ground of deepening our understanding of the Church. Ecclesiology of the Marginalized frames a conducive environment for creative imagination and prophetic critique that nurture new realities for the church as the people of God.

V. Structural Overview of this Study This introductory chapter locates the key argument of an ecclesial-oriented paradigm within the discipline of urban mission and discusses the study’s research design of describing the FECH’s contours of a self-understanding of ‘church’. The rest of the study unfolds the ecclesiological discourse, to think theoretically, theologically and sociologically in order to describe the developing ecclesiology the FECH presented above in six main chapters. The second chapter, ‘Theoretical and Methodological Prolegomena’, deals with the theoretical construct and methodological principle in order to describe a local ecclesiology. To do such an ecclesiological investigation, I develop a method for ecclesiology applied in local contexts that allows the concerns and realities of various contexts to come to the fore and shape multiple ecclesiologies. This theoretical construct that I call a local ecclesiological methodology bridges the gap between more traditional systematic and theoretical (ideal) ecclesiology and practical oriented ecclesiology (e.g. congregational studies) in order to hold together theological and social understandings of the church in its local reality. It is an attempt to discern Christ taking form among those who confess him in describing their local theology of church, including being attentive to their ecclesial practices, traditions, culture, narratives, understandings, relationships and symbols. The aim of chapter three, ‘Ecclesiality and Locality of the Church’, is to articulate a theological framework for this kind of research. I examine biblical and historical themes to address the question, ‘What is the Church?’ This ecclesiological investigation unfolds the conditions of ecclesiality and the necessary and sufficient criteria for a community to be called ‘Church’. In this chapter, I then identify ecclesial contours, including the special focus of the church on the nature of the triune God, the eschatological reality of the Church, ecclesial fruitfulness as well as the notae ecclesiae of the notae internae (unity, holiness, catholicity, and apostolicity) and the notae externae (koinonia, diakonia, kerygma, martyria and leitourgia). I conclude chapter three by noting the content of these ecclesial contours as neither static nor fixed, so that there is space to re-read them within the Church’s

74. John O’Brien, ‘Ecclesiology as Narrative’, Ecclesiology Vol 4, No. 2 (2008), pp. 160–1.

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social and political Sitz im Leben (setting in the life of the people). So we can ask: ‘What are the contours of Church that emerge among the FECH’s?’ with the follow up question: ‘How are they expressed within the specificity of the FECH?’ This chapter describes ideal ecclesial contours for a theological understanding of the church, whereas the following chapters will describe these contours in the visible ecclesial gathering of the FECH – the empirical reality of their church. In the fourth chapter, ‘Towards Naming the Context’, generates the ethnographical description of the community in focus. In this narrative the reader is encouraged to get to know the FECH a bit. The findings provide insights into their internal epistemic cultural themes and an external analysis of the social world where they are embedded, which include their social facts, structure and inter-connectedness. To understand their narrative (including their ecclesial narrative), the study looks into their historical, cultural and physical environment. Some of the internal discourses of their cultural themes, such as their code of conduct and social factors are contrary to their neighbouring Filipino residential communities, including illegal settlers and poor communities. Their communal identity is shaped as well by a common quest for survival, protection and mutual support; this is expressed by their celebrations, rituals (for example rites of passage), their collective efforts of working together, by their transactions of value (helping in emergency cases, lending money, caring for the other children if parents are out looking for money, etc.) and by their common stories of pain, injustice and oppression. This is a community governed by kinship and is subject to many forms of segregation from the wider Filipino society. Chapter  5, ‘A Contextual and Interdisciplinary Reading of Mark’s Gospel’, discusses the hermeneutical issues and themes relating to doing theology with the FECH. As there are no written records about any theological or ecclesial reflections of the FECH, a workshop was conducted to record their theological and ecclesial reflections. This is an attempt to reveal an espoused theology based on the specifics of the community’s articulation of its beliefs, as well as the operant theology embedded in their actual practices. The chapter then identifies theological threads developed by the FECH that can be compared to other hermeneutical discussions. Instead of providing an extensively exegetical account of the whole of the Gospel of Mark, the aim is to trace and examine three broad theological themes (family, cultural value of shame/ honour, and views of the supernatural world – all themes that emerged from my cultural analysis) throughout the text relating to the FECH as an ecclesial identity. Theologians often read the whole of Mark’s Gospel by identifying themes of certain inter-related and yet irreducible narrative themes, such as creation, redemption and justice. To be able to do so, to trace a theme or thread, one must be selective. Thus, I have chosen to negotiate particular streams within the text, instead of focusing on all the possible tributaries. Although the three themes are not explicitly considered by scholars to be major themes in Mark’s Gospel, they are nevertheless intimately connected to the central argumentation and narrative of the Gospel. Through this effort a deeper understanding of the Gospel of Mark emerges because of the contribution made by the FECH.

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In Chapter 6, ‘Towards a Familia Dei Ecclesiology’, I describe an ecclesiological integration of the empirical and theological data. I document and reflect on the unfolding of the contextual ecclesiology for the FECH. It is a theologically informed ethnography that exhibits their cultural and social milieu. The chapter discusses the developing ecclesiology of the FECH under three major headings. First, it addresses the contextual challenges the FECH encounter. This includes a description of the invisible social factors confronting, challenging and forming the FECH. Second, an examination of the theological criteria of the FECH is done along the lines of identity, mission and place of the church. In particular, imagery of the familia Dei is developed that resonates closely with their cultural milieu and encapsulates the essence, mission and place of the church within their particular historical and cultural framework. Third, the final attempt to describe the FECH’s ecclesiology is through ecclesial-led questions. Following the theological framework described in Chapter 3, the ecclesial markers are re-read through the perspective of the FECH’s narrative. In the seventh and final chapter of this study, ‘A Church in the “Filipino” Contexts’, the description of the nature and implications of the FECH’s ecclesiology are further discussed and elaborated on. In conclusion, the book has emphasized the importance of marginal ecclesial narratives addressing grassroot realities to nurture a more appropriate theology and practice for the Filipino church and perhaps the worldwide church.

Chapter 2 T H E O R E T IC A L A N D M E T HO D O L O G IC A L P R O L E G OM E NA

Theoretically, I attempt to develop an ecclesiological methodology that aims to bridge the gap between more traditional systematic and theoretical ecclesiology (classical ecclesiology) and practical oriented ecclesiology (e.g. congregational studies) in order to hold together theological and social understandings of the church in its local reality. Dietrich Bonhoeffer once stated that where Christ ‘takes form’ in the world, this is the place where Christ’s Church is.1 To be able to discern Christ ‘taking form’ in the world, understanding the Church with all its ‘common life and language’,2 a local ecclesiological method attempts to view it as being simultaneously theological and social/cultural. The underlying methodological principle is: ‘The meanings of the word “God” are to be discovered by watching what this community does – not only when it is consciously reflecting in conceptual ways, but when it is acting, educating or “inducting,” imagining and worshiping.’3 God reveals himself to us, and we experience him, in and through the practice of the ‘common life and language’ of the community.4

1. ‘The Church is the place where Jesus Christ’s taking form is proclaimed and where it happens’. See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics (ed. Clifford J. Green; trans. Reinhard Krauss, Charles C. West and Douglas W. Stott; Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, Vol. 6; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, original edition 1949, 2009), p.  102, italics in original. André Dumas’ commentary on Bonhoeffer notes: ‘The Church starts from what actually happens when Jesus Christ takes form as community. But the event of Jesus Christ is also the advent of a communal being and not simply an individual existential encounter. Revelation does not only come to the community; it takes place within the community’. See André Dumas, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Theologian of Reality (New York: Macmillan, 1971), p.  108, italics in original. 2. Rowan Williams, On Christian Theology, Challenges in Contemporary Theology (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000), p. xii. 3. Ibid., p. xii; see also Barth, Church Dogmatics, p. 139. 4. Nicholas M. Healy, ‘Ecclesiology, Ethnography, and God: An Interplay of Reality Description’, Perspectives on Ecclesiology and Ethnography (ed. Pete Ward; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), p. 183.

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Likewise, Joseph Komonchak argues: ‘If the Church is the People of God, the Body of Christ, the Temple of the Holy Spirit, it is all of these as a human reality, that is, because certain events occur within the mutually-related consciousness of a group of beings.’5 The connecting principle in Komonchak’s statement is that church is God’s people because certain events occur within a community. A local ecclesiological methodology aims to discern Christ taking form among those who confess him in describing their local theology of church, including being attentive to their ecclesial practices, traditions, culture, narratives, understandings, relationships and symbols. A local ecclesiological method relevant to this study is an intentional dialogue with the empirical paradigms for theology. Johannes Van der Ven outlines four methodological orientations for empirical theology: monodisciplinarity, multidisciplinarity, interdisciplinarity and intradisciplinary.6 The first option mentioned is monodisciplinarity (a model of applied theology) where social scientists assist the theologians.7 The second orientation is multidisciplinarity, which is built upon a ‘two-phase model’ of a sequential relationship in which theologians collect the results of empirical research material. The problem in this orientation lies in the issues of theology being dependent upon social science and that social scientific analysis and theological reflection are built upon different paradigms, theology being defined by ‘critical-religious consideration from the perspective of the normative nature of the Gospel’.8 The third option, an interdisciplinarity, seeks a cooperative relationship between social scientists and theologians, or within one person with academic qualifications in both specialties. In practice however, this is seldom achieved.9 Therefore, in this study I attempt the fourth orientation of an intradisciplinary approach, where theology itself becomes empirical, by providing a theological analysis as well as empirical and descriptive study of assessing the ecclesial reality of the community in focus.

I. Towards a Correlation between Ideal and Local Ecclesiology In the study of ecclesiology we observe a methodological divide whereas some approach the study of the church from a Platonic (idealist) view and others from more of an Aristotelian (realist) view.10 Those whose influence has been by Platonic 5. Joseph Komonchak, ‘Ecclesiology and Social Theory: A Methodological Essay’, Thomist 45 (1981), p. 269. 6. Johannes A. Van der Ven, God Reinvented?: A Theological Search in Texts and Tables (Empirical Studies in Theology, Leiden; Boston: Brill, 1998), p. 40. 7. Ibid., p. 48. 8. Ibid., p. 45. 9. Ibid., pp. 46–9. 10. Walter Kasper introduces this distinction in his debate with the then Cardinal Ratzinger in their dialogue concerning the role and significance of the local versus the universal Church.‘The conflict is between theological opinions and underlying philosophical

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philosophy will mainly focus on theological motifs, for example images of the Church, marks of the Church, and so forth, which ‘then seeks to draw conclusions from these religious symbols for the concrete operation of the Church we all live in’.11 Those influenced by Aristotelian philosophy tend to start with ‘the historical data of the Church, a Church of historically constituted communities which develop and change over time. They will then seek to draw historical lessons for the current life of the Church’.12 However, the aim of ecclesiology should be to understand this tension, and work towards a more heuristic definition of Church that attempts to incorporate both methodological perspectives (idealist and realist). I call this approach a local ecclesiological method that aims to minimize a mere abstract ecclesiology developed apart from its concrete ecclesial reality. At the same time it is not merely a study of ecclesiastics (form of doing church) but aims to examine these ideal ecclesial markers in the local ecclesial narratives of churches. A local ecclesiological method attempts to hold together ecclesiality and locality which are closely interrelated as we deal with the development of the Church within a particular context in today’s society. To talk about ecclesiology is to talk about a local context, a particular place. Locality (contextuality) brings awareness to the empirical reality of a place within our ecclesial discourse; that is, not only emphasis on the empirical and human dimension, but also the historical reality of the Church. It looks at empirical, human and historical language and data in addition to the idealist terms that describe the Church. If locality is not part of the exploration of the ecclesiality of the Church, we are likely to end up with an idealist view of Church. Neil Ormerod states that the strengths of idealist ecclesiologies are that they produce ‘religious symbols that they draw upon that are effective in giving people new perspectives, and in motivating them into new patterns of behavior. They can be highly suggestive in helping us explore current ecclesial concerns’.13 On the other hand, if we restrict our discussion to merely an idealist ecclesiology, this may result in reflecting ‘upon the church in abstraction from its concrete identity’.14

assumptions. One side [Ratzinger] proceeds by Plato’s method; its starting point is the primacy of an ideal that is a universal concept. The other side [Kasper] follows Aristotle’s approach and sees the universal as existing in a concrete reality.’ See Walter Kasper, ‘A Friendly Reply to Cardinal Ratzinger on the Church’, America No. 184/14 (2001), p. 13; and Neil Ormerod, ‘Ecclesiology and the Social Science’, The Routledge Companion to the Christian Church (eds. Gerard Mannion and Lewis Seymour Mudge; New York: Routledge, 2008), p. 239. 11. Neil Ormerod, ‘Recent Ecclesiology: A Survey’, Pacifica No.  21, February (2008), p. 58. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid, p. 60. 14. Nicholas M. Healy, Church, World, and the Christian Life: Practical-Prophetic Ecclesiology (Cambridge Studies in Christian Doctrine, Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 26.

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Nicholas Healy has labelled this approach ‘blueprint ecclesiology’.15 An ecclesiology that is not grounded in the context of concrete Church praxis tends to portray a ‘perfect’ nature of Church that the historical reality of the Church would never be able to reach. An idealized model of Church defines ‘theologically (“from above”) what the church “is,” for example, one, holy, catholic and apostolic, in a way which takes no account of its failings’.16 Paul Avis observes that ecclesiology ‘is commonly stated in the ideal mode. It airily evokes what the Church is in the purpose of God, but disdains the messy human reality. So often ecclesiology offers a “God’s eye view” but turns a blind eye to the human aspect.’17 An idealist approach limits the understanding of our ecclesial reality. In fact, for Roger Haight, it is clear that ‘the primary object of the study of ecclesiology is the empirical church’.18 The locality of the church places emphasis on the elements of the surrounding societal formation that shape the form of the Church.19 If we want to understand the Church, we need to look at the Church simultaneously as ‘a human, historical, social reality on the one hand and a theological reality on the other hand. These two dimensions of the church are quite distinct.’20 To be able to look at the divine and human aspects of the Church simultaneously, we need to define the Church heuristically. Joseph Komonchak provides such a definition: The object of ecclesiology may be described as the set (or sets) of experiences, understandings, symbols, words, judgments, statements, decisions, actions, relationships, and institutions which distinguish the group of people called ‘the Church’.21

The methodological implication of such a definition is to provide concrete areas for examination in an ecclesiology. Not only should an ecclesiology be empirical and historical, but for Ormerod, it also needs to be ‘critical, normative, dialectic, and practical’.22

15. Ibid., pp. 25–7. 16. Bruce Hamill, ‘Beyond Ecclesiocentricity: Navigating between the Abstract and the Domesticated in Contemporary Ecclesiology’, International Journal of Systematic Theology Vol. 14, Issue 3 (2012), pp. 287–8. 17. Paul D. L. Avis, Beyond the Reformation?: Authority, Primacy and Unity in the Conciliar Tradition (London and New York: T & T Clark, 2006), p. 204. 18. Roger Haight, Christian Community in History (New York: Continuum, 2004), p. 35. 19. Johannes A.Van der Ven, Ecclesiology in Context (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996), p. 310. 20. Haight, Christian Community in History, p. 38. 21. Joseph Komonchak, Foundations in Ecclesiology (Boston, MA: Boston College, 1995), p. 57. 22. Neil Ormerod, ‘The Structure of a Systematic Ecclesiology’, Theological Studies Vol. 63 (2002), p. 3.

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Healy argues that we ought to open up traditional ecclesiologies so that ‘they include explicit analysis of the ecclesiological context as an integral part of properly theological reflection upon the church’.23 Therefore, the dynamic correlation on the ideal and locality of the Church should be central in the study of the ecclesiology. Therefore, I seek to develop a local ecclesiological method that aims to incorporate this tension between social reductionism and doctrinal reductionism.24

II. Towards a Method for Ecclesiology Applied in Local Contexts The ecclesiological methodology proposed for this study focuses on the ecclesial narrative of the FECH (even though this is limited by the lack of written records), all the while being aware of the broader link to the historical context of the Church. The construction of such a method lies in its ability to look into the ecclesiality of the Church from a theological and sociological perspective. I will now describe the steps (resting on many hermeneutical principles mentioned in Chapter 5) taken in the next chapters to identify and describe the developing ecclesiology of the FECH. However, let me say at the outset that this is not a model to describe a contextual Church. I agree here with Daniel Shaw that we need to move away from merely seeking a product, in this case a model of a contextual Church, but emphasize the process.25 Therein, I proceed to the different steps and provide an integrated description of the FECH-developing ecclesiology in Chapters 6 and 7. This is not understood as a final product of their view of Church but rather a snapshot look of their developing understanding of being Church. This is not merely a fourstep procedure, but a process that aims to analyse an ecclesiology in a particular context. In addition, I dwell on the principle that moves away from aims to contextualize the church in the FECH context, to acknowledging that God is in their midst, and the FECH is in a process of what Charles Van Engen calls ‘re-contextualization’ (people knowing God in their midst).26 Shaw calls this a move ‘beyond

23. Healy, Church, World, and the Christian Life, p. 39. 24. Tension ethicist James Gustafson points out the importance of engaging neither in a mainly social reductionism that views the Church merely as a human community, nor in a doctrinal reductionism that ignores the human elements of the Church. See James M. Gustafson, Treasure in Earthen Vessels: The Church as a Human Community (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1961), pp. 105–7. 25. R. Daniel Shaw, ‘Beyond Contextualization: Toward a Twenty-first-Century Model for Enabling Mission’, International Bulletin of Missionary Research Vol. 34, No. 4 (2010), p. 210. 26. Charles E. Van Engen, ‘Critical Theologizing: Knowing God in Multiple Global/Local Contexts’, Evangelical, Ecumenical, and Anabaptist Missiologies in Conversation (eds James R. Krabill, Walter Sawatsky and Charles E. Van Engen; Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2006), pp. 88–97.

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contextualization,’ where a church focuses on God being in their midst, gaining knowledge that transforms them, with the result that they become missional. This study is in line with Shaw’s vision to move beyond a mere description of a contextual church to a biblical Church in context.27 To be able to do so, I adopted Paul Hiebert’s critical contextualization model, which refers to the epistemological approach of critical realism in order to ‘see all human knowledge as a combination of objective and subjective elements and as partial but increasingly closer approximations of truth’.28 Critical contextualization comprises four steps of phenomenological analysis (exegesis of the culture), ontological critique (exegesis of the Scripture and the hermeneutical bridge), evaluative response (critical response) and transformative ministries (new contextualized practices).29 The task of any church theory consists of facing contemporary contexts and challenges (exegesis of the culture) and the basis of New Testament statements of the Church (exegesis of Scripture) to formulate an understanding of church, where identity, mission and place of the church is determined (criteria) and therein initiate actions within their local context (new practice).30 The first step is to analyse the local culture and the people’s concerns or questions phenomenologically. Shaw mentions that such a phenomenological approach encourages people to openly discuss their old practices (for example, their old songs, myths, rites) and what meaning these have in the traditional culture and/or religion, without any prior judgement or criticism by the outsider.31 In Chapter 4 I use this approach to provide an empirical description of the research community, including behaviours, beliefs and values that shape their daily interactions and conduct. ‘Studying a culture means understanding the categories, assumptions, and logic the people use to construct their world. This requires careful observation and study.’32 As argued earlier, this is not an untheological task but an integrated part of a local ecclesial study, revealing empirical contours that are crucial in understanding the Church. Peter Phan argues that ‘[t]he dialogue between theology and, in particular, ecclesiology and the social sciences, though a recent enterprise, is vital

27. Shaw, Beyond Contextualization, p. 210. 28. Paul G. Hiebert, ‘Critical Contextualization’, International Bulletin of Missionary Research Vol. 11, No. 3 (1987), p. 111. 29. See Paul G. Hiebert, R. Daniel Shaw, and Tite Tiénou, Understanding Folk Religion: A Christian Response to Popular Beliefs and Practices (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1999). 30. Stefan Schweyer, Kontextuelle Kirchentheorie: Eine kritisch-konstruktive Auseinandersetzung mit dem Kirchenverständnis neuerer praktisch-theologischer Entwürfe (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2007), p. 270. 31. R. Daniel Shaw, ‘Contextualization the Power and the Glory’, International Journal of Frontier Missions Vol. 12, No. 2 (1995), p. 157. 32. Hiebert, Shaw, and Tiénou, Understanding Folk Religion, p. 22.

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both for the church and theology’.33 The question I seek to tackle is how to relate the social sciences to theology and vice versa.34 Dietrich Bonhoeffer already argued that the Church of Christ needs to be understood at the same time sociologically and theologically. Nevertheless, Bonhoeffer refused to allow social sciences to determine his understanding of the Church because it is created by God’s revelation. He explains, ‘The reality of the church is a reality of revelation, a reality that essentially must be either believed or denied. Thus an adequate criterion for judging the claim of the church to be God’s church-community can be found only by stepping inside it, by bowing in faith to its claim.’35 This distinction of the Church as a social community established by God and not humans makes it different from all other social communities. It is God’s gift of faith to see Christ taking form in our midst. Yet, even though the church is only fully seen with the ‘eyes of faith’, Bonhoeffer notes that it remains human, as any understanding of community ‘is essentially related to a concept of person’.36 This enables the use of social science, which is always ‘necessary in ecclesiology because the church is a human society’.37 We must not blindly accept social sciences in our methodological design and procedures. Our turning to sociologists and anthropologists is crucial in understanding our social world.38 Yet, on the other hand, John Coleman states: ‘Theology can and must be seen by the sociologist not just as a dependent variable but as one that itself may have social consequences.’39 Ecclesiology and ethnography are a crucial combination (an ecclesial ethnography or what I call in this study, local ecclesiological method) that helps one resist merely focusing on texts that speak about the Church, but rather, ‘focus on the church itself ’.40 The result is a local ecclesiological method that then becomes the means of doing theology. 33. Peter C. Phan, ‘Social Science and Ecclesiology: Cybernetics in Patrick Granfield’s Theology of the Church’, Theology and the Social Sciences (ed. Michael Horace Barnes; Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001), p. 60. 34. For example, see Neil Ormerod, ‘A Dialectic Engagement with the Social Sciences in an Ecclesiological Context’, Theological Studies Vol. 66 (2005), pp. 818, 826; and David Martin, Reflections on Sociology and Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), p. 22. 35. See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio: A Theological Study of the Sociology of the Church (ed. Clifford J. Green; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, original edition 1986, 2009), p. 127, italics in original; See also Hans Küng, The Church (Garden City, NY: Image Books, 1976), p. 54. 36. See Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, p. 34. 37. Phan, Social Science and Ecclesiology, p. 59. 38. Robin Gill, ‘Sociology Assessing Theology’, Theology and Sociology: A Reader (ed. Robin Gill; New York: Paulist Press, 1987), p. 147. 39. John A. Coleman, ‘Every Theology Implies a Sociology and Vice Versa’, Theology and the Social Sciences (ed. Michael Horace Barnes; Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001), p. 19. 40. Neil Ormerod, ‘Ecclesiology and the Social Science’, The Routledge Companion to the Christian Church (eds Gerard Mannion and Lewis Seymour Mudge; New York: Routledge, 2008), p. 650.

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Incorporating ethnography into this study provides the empirical data of the research community that ‘becomes the locus for theological reflection’, as John Swinton notes: Out of this conversation emerge understanding and, if necessary, some form of retheologizing of the situation. . . . It opens up the opportunity to challenge aspects of Scripture and tradition that may have become distorted, forgotten, or deliberately overlooked. Likewise, it presents a space wherein ethnography (or at least the results of ethnographic investigation) can be critique in the light of theological assumptions and propositions.41

Christian Batalden Scharen writes, ‘ethnography provides the most robust corrective to the problematic of too formal an ecclesiology and can, therefore, offer just the sort of “judicious narratives” that can make such ecclesiology more recognisably real’.42 In the second step the church examined Scripture as it relates to issues or questions that are being raised.43 Hiebert’s foundational hermeneutical principle guiding this is that all areas of life are to be oriented on the Bible.44 The hermeneutical work on Scripture of the FECH, with a focus on the Gospel of Mark, is recorded in Chapter 5. As they investigate sentence-by-sentence, they ask, ‘What did the writer of Mark mean?’ and ‘What does it mean for us today?’ As I describe their perspective on certain passages, I bring them into dialogue with two other contexts, while being aware of my personal interpretative preferences of the text. First, ‘What does the wider Christian tradition have to say about the passage?’ and second, ‘What are other contemporary contexts saying about the passage, especially including other marginal contexts (for example women)?’ This identifies some of the contributing factors the FECH brings to the global theologizing progress, while at the same time revealing some of their central theological motifs and ecclesial contours. The third step is critical responses. Here the people corporately and critically evaluate their cultural practices and responses in light of Scripture. Shaw points out that when people engage in this step of evaluating their behaviour patterns in light of the truth of the Gospel, it can set them free. Such a change, resulting directly ‘from critical evaluation, however, should be recognized, along with the ongoing implications as they impact the culture’.45

41. John Swinton, ‘ “Where Is Your Church?” Moving toward a Hospitable and Sanctified Ethnography’, Perspectives on Ecclesiology and Ethnography (ed. Pete Ward; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), p. 86. 42. Christian Batalden Scharen, ‘ “Judicious narratives”, or ethnography as ecclesiology’, Scottish Journal of Theology Vol. 58, No. 2 (2005), p. 125. 43. Hiebert, Critical Contextualization, p. 109. 44. Paul G. Hiebert, Anthropological Insights for Missionaries (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1985), pp. 186–92. 45. Shaw, Contextualization the Power and the Glory, p. 158.

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This step is taken in two phases in this study. First, in the empirical research (Chapter  4), many of the FECH had opportunities, either through informal meetings, interviews or a focus group, to reflect on their situation, culture and community. As they gathered afterwards for the workshop to work through Mark’s Gospel, some of the same issues came up (for example spiritual world and codes of conduct). They then reflected together on their cultural practices, community and issues pertaining to their context and what Scripture has to say, which is recorded in Chapter 5. The second phase is described in Chapters 6 and 7 where I reflect on the FECH’s empirical, theological and ecclesial contours and set out describing their unfolding ecclesiology. In the fourth and final step the FECH critically engaged with their context and Scripture and articulated practices, languages, traditions, structures and theology that are relevant to their ecclesial community (Chapters  5, 6 and 7). These articulations are the local ecclesiology that incorporates a description of their contours (empirical, theological and ecclesial motifs) describing the FECH’s selfunderstanding as a local Church. The brief description above provides an overview of the methodology developed in this study for an ecclesiology applied in local contexts. The next section will elaborate a bit more on the overall theoretical design, starting with my role as a researcher and then I describe my two primary methodologies: (1) an ethnographical approach gathered empirical data and analysed them, using anthropological theories and tools; and (2) hermeneutical principles taken from theological theories and tools. These methodologies provided the theories and tools for the field research that produced the empirical (Chapter 4) and theological as well as ecclesial (Chapter  5) data describing the FECH’s contours of a selfunderstanding of ‘church’ which is discussed in Chapters 6 and 7. (a) My Role: An Insider and/or Outsider Perspective In a qualitative research of a community where I have been previously missionally engaged, it is crucial to ask questions about my role. How can I, as a researcher, gather data that are valid and reliable when I have been previously involved in ministering to this community? Do I function as an insider, an outsider, or both? What if my research contributes to social changes? Can it still be legitimized from a social science perspective? In response to such questions social scientific researchers have advocated an ‘ideology of the transcendental observer’46 who is able to see it all. However, theoretical and epistemological shifts in scientific research in recent decades have questioned the ability of objective observations.

46. Stephen A. Tyler, ‘Post-Modern Ethnography: From Document of the Occult to Occult Document’, Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography (eds James Clifford and George E. Marcus; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), p. 126; See also Kirin Narayan, ‘How Native Is a “Native” Anthropologist?’, American Anthropologist New Series 95, no. 3 (1993), p. 672.

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This shift contributed to a wider understanding among social scientists that the apparent clear distinction of outsider and insider is in reality much less clear than previously assumed. This insight gradually shifted many social scientists away ‘from modern, structuralist and positivist understandings of social science and social-scientific objectivity towards post-structuralist, constructivist, and interpretive understandings of the situatedness of the social sciences themselves as well as of the individuals who conduct social-scientific research’.47 What has been greatly frowned upon by sociologists and anthropologists, doing activist research, now, suddenly is being legitimized.48 The distinctions between outsiders and insiders have become increasingly complicated. Kirin Narayan, himself a Western-trained anthropologist, born in India to parents of Indian and European origin, argues that a fixed distinction between ‘native’ and ‘non-native’ anthropologists is simply unworkable.49 Any ‘objective’ anthropologist who does field research that requires personal engagement with those he/she researches loses the conventional notion of an ‘outsider’.50 Narayan explains that we all possess multiplex identities being shaped as we interact with others. In fact, research itself contributes to the changes of relationships when these interactions take place.51 As an initiator of the FECH, do I belong to the community and hence have an ‘inside’ perspective? Or should I consider myself an outsider, since I do not live on the streets? Jean M. Bartunek provides some insights to this discussion as he defines outsiders as those ‘particularly concerned with the knowledge seeking for its own sake, although there may be an action orientation as well’, and insiders as ‘those individuals whose personally relevant social world is under study’.52 Taking these terms into account, one could operate as outsider and insider simultaneously. When it comes to my role in the field research, I did function as both an outsider and an insider. An outsider, in this context, is one who has never lived on the streets nor fully comprehended the life of those who do. This should enable me as an ‘outsider’ in the research process to have some ‘observer neutrality’, even though this assumption of neutrality has been greatly questioned recently.53 As someone who for

47. Elizabeth Philips, ‘Charting the “Ethnographic Turn”: Theologians and the Study of Christian Congregations’, Perspectives on Ecclesiology and Ethnography (ed. Pete Ward; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), pp. 100–1. 48. Ibid. 49. Narayan, How Native Is a ‘Native’ Anthropologist?, pp. 671–2. 50. Ibid., pp. 671–2, 676–7. 51. Ibid., pp. 675–9. 52. Jean M. Bartunek and Meryl Reis Louis, Insider/Outsider Team Research (Qualitative Research Series 40, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 1996), p. 12. 53. Peter Donovan points out that the pretence of an untainted neutral perspective in research actually occludes: (1) observer bias, which is the way a researcher selects data and frames information according to his/her own perspectives; (2) observer incomprehension, which is the way a researcher will ‘miss the point’ on account of lacunae in his/her knowledge

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years has spent countless hours ‘hanging out’ in the Park and on the streets, I have become, in many ways, an insider. In the Filipino contexts, cultural values prevent people often from revealing their thoughts fully to strangers, but rather, Tomas Andres notes, ‘only those aspects of one’s thought which will be acceptable to them’.54 Thereby, an insider perspective needs to be encouraged if one is aiming for a more complete view of the research community. To gain this emic perspective through a trusting relationship, I spent numerous hours listening to their stories and have observed their daily lives and interactions with each other through the years. (b) Methodology for Doing Qualitative Research In this section I outline the various methodologies used to collect and analyse the data from the FECH. This empirical methodology I used to describe their: (1) local culture and history; (2) kinship and social order; (3) relation to other social institutions; (4) social and physical context; and (5) members’ social worlds (Chapter 4). In essence, I present a case study of this church. A case study based on qualitative research has its limitations, as it cannot be generalized in the way that quantitative procedures might allow. However, Robert Stake argues that case studies are more intuitive, empirically grounded and with context-specific generalizations that he refers to as ‘naturalistic’.55 The findings of case studies often resonate experientially or phenomenologically with a much wider audience and create thereby greater understanding of the phenomenon in question. Even though this way of understanding does not facilitate prediction or control, it still nurtures valuable knowledge because, to borrow from Clifford Geertz, it places ‘us in touch with the lives of strangers’ and thus helps to make others more accessible and enlarges ‘the universe of human discourse’.56 Such a description is crucial as it explicates the multiple dimensions at play in a communal identity and how social conditions influence group identities. Data collection for my primary field research has been accomplished through an in-depth case study carried out over the course of one year on the FECH. This included participant observation, individual interviews and focus groups to gather the empirical data that describe the social reality of the research community. Robert

of the studied community’s world; and (3) the observer-effect the impact of the researcher on the data by his/her own presence and behaviour. See Peter Donovan, ‘Neutrality in Religious Studies’, The Insider/Outsider Problem in the Study of Religion: A Reader (ed. Russell T. McCutcheon; New York: Cassell, 1999), p. 236. 54. Tomas Quintin D. Andres, Understanding Filipino Values: A Management Approach (Quezon City, Philippines: New Day Publishers, 2005), p. 20. 55. Robert E. Stake, ‘The Case-Study Method of Social Inquiry’, Educational Researcher Vol. 7, No. 2 (1978), p. 5. 56. Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays (New York: Basic Books, 1973), pp. 14, 16.

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Yin defines case study method as ‘an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context, especially when the boundaries between phenomenon and context are not clearly evident’.57 This ethnographical inquiry has not been easy, as Frances Ward mentions, especially as the collecting and analysis process of writing up the final ‘textual order’ requires ‘to delete some voices, some perspectives, in favour of others’.58 Ethnographers have increasingly been concerned about the degree of complexity required of an ethnographic study to avoid some degree of distortion.59 Thus, from the outset of this study, I want to acknowledge that any methodologies are in some sense prejudiced. In my field research, there should not be either/or, but rather I aim at a balance between passivity and activity, an equilibrium of receiving and responding.60 I am using social science methods in identifying and describing ‘people’s behavior, thoughts, emotions and artifacts (the physical residue of people’s thoughts, emotions, and behavior) and the environmental conditions in which people behave, think, feel and make things’.61 Since many people of the FCH are illiterate, studying their words and actions seems more productive than any statistical analysis (quantative research), with which a high percentage of the population would not be able to participate. Community is lived out through the people’s interactions, events, circumstances and experiences. Joseph A. Maxwell mentions that in qualitative research the following four intellectual goals are especially well suited:62 1. ‘Understanding the meaning, for participants in the study of events, situations, and actions they are involved with or engage in’ 2. ‘Understanding the particular context within which the participants act, and the influence that this context has on their actions’ 3. ‘Identifying unanticipated phenomena and influences, and generating new “grounded” theories about the latter’ 4. ‘Developing causal explanations’.

57. Robert K. Yin, Case Study Research: Design and Methods (vol. 5, Applied Social Research Methods Series, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 4th edn, 2009), p. 13. 58. Frances Ward,‘The Messiness of Studying Congregations using Ethnographic Methods’, Congregational Studies in the UK: Christianity in a Post-Christian Context (eds Mathew Guest, Karin Tusting and Linda Woodhead; Aldershot, Hants: Ashgate, 2004), p. 134. 59. Healy, Ecclesiology, Ethnography, and God, p. 187. 60. See Martyn Percy, Engaging with Contemporary Culture: Christianity, Theology, and the Concrete Church (Explorations in Practical, Pastoral, and Empirical Theology, Aldershot, Hants: Ashgate, 2005), pp. 7–8. 61. Russell H. Bernard and Gery W. Ryan, Analyzing Qualitative Data: Systematic Approaches (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, Inc., 2009), p. 5. 62. Joseph Alex Maxwell, Qualitative Research Design: An Interactive Approach (Applied Social Research Methods Series, no. 41; Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2nd edn, 2005), pp. 22–23, italics in original.

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Maxwell’s goals fit well with my research. Goal one is to understand not just the participants’ perspectives of ‘their accounts of these events and actions, to be assessed in terms of its truth or falsity; it is part of the reality that you are trying to understand’.63 I am not only interested in the physical events and behaviour that are taking place in FCH, but more on how the participants explain them and how their understanding of these social realities influence their behaviour. Goal two notes the emphasis of qualitative research on studying only a relatively small number of individuals, rather than collecting large samples. The third goal emphasizes the inherent openness and flexibility of qualitative research as it allows one to modify the research designs and procedures after the findings have emerged. This would not be possible with the statistical hypothesis testing, which may significantly alter the data collection. Fourthly, qualitative analysis focuses on the process that led to certain outcomes. My research involves the study of a set of human social interpersonal relationship patterns, including their interactions, values, cultures and perspectives. All of these would be difficult to quantify and hence, it is more appropriate to use qualitative research as my main method. Validity and reliability were always on my mind as I engaged the data. Graham Gibbs defines validity as ‘the extent to which an account accurately represents the social phenomenon to which it refers’.64 I took Michael Angrosino’s advice to work with additional observers to ensure the validity, as each observer represents his/ her own viewpoint, which might be biased by gender, age, ethnic background and so forth. I did this in my field research, involving colleagues, all Filipinos, with whom we cross-checked each others’ findings; this helped to uncover and eliminate inaccuracies in the data.65 Reliability is the other main issue researchers face in seeking quality, consistency and trustworthiness in their research findings.66 To ensure this, I have dedicated enough time to data gathering to make sure that I will see repetition of the underlying forces and cultural patterns. Having carried out participant observation for six years prior to the research in this community and active research since January 2010, this has helped me gain a better emic perspective, which will further ensure the reliability of my data. Furthermore, to test the reliability of my data, I have used a grounded theory approach for analysis so that the findings can be directly traced back to the actual data. A number of measures increased reliability by approaching the data from various angles:

63. Ibid., p. 22, italics in original. 64. Graham Gibbs, Analysing Qualitative Data (The Sage Qualitative Research Kit, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2007), p. 152. 65. Michael V. Angrosino, Doing Ethnographic and Observational Research (Sage Qualitative Research Kit, London: Sage Publications, 2007), pp. 59–60. 66. Steinar Kvale, Interviews: An Introduction to Qualitative Research Interviewing (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 1996), p. 122.

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I have used three major data collection strategies, which reinforce each other: participant observation, semi-structured interviews and focus group. The use of multiple sources promotes triangulation, which is crucial to validate qualitative research.67 I interviewed individuals representing all ages (not including children) and genders. Most families had at least one representative. I hired an additional research assistant to double check if the transcriptions and translation process were done properly. I hired two additional Filipino research assistants to code with me all interviews and analyse them together. This meets Russell Bernard and Gery Ryan’s criterion of reliability, namely, ‘about agreement among coders and across methods and across studies. Do coders agree on what theme to assign a segment of text? Strong interpreter reliability . . . suggests that a theme is not just a figment of your imagination and adds to the likelihood that the theme is also valid.’68 I presented my findings from the interviews in the focus group to verify them and ensure their accuracy and provide a framework for further input and if necessary additional remarks.

The case study presented in Chapter 4 focuses on the communal identity of the FCH, their social interpersonal relationship patterns and the underlying cultural themes. This empirical description of the research community portrays the implicit features that externally and internally affect the FCH’s daily life as community. I will now elaborate on the procedures for data collection and data analysis. Participant observation process. For the field research of this study, I started in January 2010 visiting the FCH around 4 to 5 times weekly, for about 2 to 4 hours, where I intentionally used some time to observe their daily interactions. I also asked informal questions that emerged from my observations; things about their social reality and real life issues they faced. Having done six months of participant observation prior to any interviews or focus groups also provided me with good insights into formulating the question guide for the semi-structured interviews and focus groups. The interviewing process. The focus of the interviews was to gather data from the FCH that described their social structure, communal identity and to identify culture themes that relate to their community. Starting the interview process, I asked the community to choose individuals representing all ages, gender and individuals who were willing to do interviews (see Appendix A, Table  1). The interviews were conducted on the interviewees’ turf, mostly a restaurant near the park. The interviews were all done in Cebuano, as that is the common language of

67. Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln, The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 4th edn, 2011), p. 5. 68. Bernard and Ryan, Analyzing Qualitative Data, p. 79.

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conversing in their community. I asked a research assistant, a native speaker of Cebuano, to conduct the interview following the prepared interview guide.69 I interjected if in the process the interviewee misunderstood a question or I probed for additional information or pursued clarification when necessary. The focus group process. The first focus group was conducted on 22 March 2011 (Appendix A, Table  2) and the second on 25 March 2011 (Appendix A, Table 3). The aim of the focus groups was to see if the social dynamics between their members played out with what the interview data had identified within the community. Focus groups helped me to understand better the group dynamics of the FCH and their diverse perceptions of cultural realities. This approach was to ‘provide data that are closer to the emic side of the continuum because they allow individuals to respond in their own words’.70 The objective of this was to gain a ‘consensus view’71 on the themes identified. I prepared eight main questions that were both culturally relevant and probing72 about an issue or theme that had been raised. But during the focus groups, I made sure there was enough freedom to let the discussion guide us and not be overly constrained by the question guide. Moreover, the moderator or I had to intervene if one person or a coalition of people dominated the conversation and we would encourage others who would not otherwise have shared.73

69. The initial interview guide questions were built from the rubric of questions found in the Sherwood Lingenfelter book, Agents of Transformations: A Guide for Effective CrossCultural Ministry, that builds upon the seminal work on cultural theory by Michael Thomson, Richard Ellis and Aaron Wildavsky along with Mary Douglas’s typology of grid and group. The question guides at the end of each chapter are excellent as they are geared towards asking the right questions for understanding the different social dimensions within a community. Nevertheless, not all questions were appropriate and many had to be rewritten to apply to my research context. As a result it would have been difficult to use Lingenfelter’s theoretical construct to analyse the data. Moreover, as I observed the community from January until June 2010, I revised the guide quite intensely before my first interview (see Appendix B). Furthermore, as I used grounded theory to analyse the data and the interview process as I went along, I discovered new insights and areas of inquiry, which prompted me to adjust the interview guide several times throughout the interview process thus building on the qualitative nature of the data I was collecting. 70. David W. Stewart, Prem N. Shamdasani and Dennis W. Rook, Focus groups: Theory and Practice (Applied Social Research Methods Series v. 20. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications, 2nd edn, 2007), p. 13. 71. Rosaline Barbour, Doing Focus Groups (Qualitative Research Kit, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2008), p. 2. 72. Ibid., p. 84. 73. Andrea Fontana and James H. Frey, ‘Interviewing: The Art of Science’, Collecting and Interpreting Qualitative Materials (eds Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln; Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 1998), p. 54.

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Grounded theory as analytical tool. As the case study of the FCH is my primary methodology, I chose grounded theory as my analytical tool as it has been proven effective in processing ethnographic data in an inductive manner. Grounded theory equips the researcher with a ‘specific set of steps to follow that are closely aligned with the canons of “good science” ’.74 I used grounded theory to organize, manage and analyse the data. Today, there are many ways of using grounded theory in research; nevertheless, the central premise of grounded theory is that theory emerges out of data. Grounded theory focuses on moving through various stages of coding data as researchers identify their analyses. It constantly seeks to see data as it is gathered, to identify connections among the data, to put coded data into themes (categories), to define characteristics and properties of the themes and to integrate the themes into a set of findings under a common category, giving a theoretical re-construction of the themes in a theory, which helps explain the phenomena being studied. This methodological approach usually uncovers insights and themes that otherwise may have been missed. One benefit of grounded theory is that it incorporates rigorous, systematic methods with an emphasis on human agency and socially constructed meanings.75 The emphasis of grounded theory is to discover an understanding of the context and the rationale of the people in it that ‘begins and ends in data’.76 Participants shared their stories, experiences and incidents that revealed their social interpersonal relationship patterns and the underlying cultural themes. A professional transcribing and training firm located in Davao put together a team that transcribed the data. Afterwards, I hired assistants to translate the transcriptions from Cebuano into English. I used the software Nvivo to bring clarity and overall view to the data gathering, creating the database and, eventually, the interpretation process. It was very helpful to store all my data in one place and organize it into categories and at the same time always to be able to return quickly to the original text. As mentioned above, grounded theorists go through several stages of coding as they conduct their analysis. In the following I outline the different steps grounded theory lays out – open, axial, selective coding and theoretical sampling, and how I applied them to my data analysis. Open coding. As soon as I had transcribed and translated the first interviews, I started with the initial stage of ‘open coding’. This is the ‘process of breaking down, examining, comparing, conceptualizing and categorizing data’.77 As much as possible, I went through each line of the transcript and assigned ‘conceptual labels’

74. Denzin and Lincoln, The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research, p. 382. 75. Kathy Charmaz, Constructing Grounded Theory: A Practical Guide Through Qualitative Analysis (London and Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2006), p. 7. 76. Barney G. Glaser and Anselm L. Strauss, The Discovery of Grounded Theory: Strategies for Qualitative Research (Chicago IL: Aldine Pub. Co, 1967), p. 7. 77. Anselm L. Strauss and Juliet M. Corbin, Basics of Qualitative Research: Grounded Theory Procedures and Techniques (Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications, 1990), p. 61.

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to the texts.78 Sometimes I used in nivo coding, which basically uses the interviewee’s own words in the label.79 Weston and co-workers note that ‘coding is not what happens before analysis, but comes to constitute an important part of the analysis’.80 To enhance the validity of my analysis, I hired two Filipino research assistants, Dr Bonifico Gabales and his supervisor, Professor Gilbert Importante, to help me code and analyse the data. This approach yielded various ways of analysing and interpreting data as ‘a research team builds codes and coding builds a team through the creation of shared interpretation and understanding of the phenomenon being studied’.81 We would separately code the nineteen interviews and then would meet several times during the period to discuss the codes given. The initial coding of the first interviews helped me see if the data I was gathering was revealing any themes that shed light on the FCH communal identity and interpersonal relationship patterns. I made a few adjustments to the question guide after the initial coding as I realized that some data were not useful for this research and that there were other areas I would have to explore further. Axial coding. After the initial codes I moved to the second stage of doing ‘axial coding’ and compartmentalized them into groups and a preliminary hierarchy, which was ordered around themes that developed from my data.82 Strauss and Corbin define this stage as ‘a set of procedures whereby data are put back together in new ways after open coding, by making connections between categories. . . . utilizing a coding paradigm involving conditions, context, action/ interactional strategies and consequences’.83 After coding all interviews and agreeing on all of our codes, we started identifying categories for the codes. We compared the different responses of the participants, which generated several categories.84 Axial coding establishes these theoretical categories and the role they play in understanding the phenomenon.85 Selective coding. As several theoretical categories and their respective subcategories became evident, it revealed data that were not useful and hence could be removed. For example, early on, I had questions that caused the participants to

78. Charmaz, Constructing Grounded Theory, p. 50. 79. Ibid., p. 55. 80. Weston, C., Gandell T., Beauchamp J., McApline L., Wiseman C., and Beachamp C., ‘Analyzing Interview Data: The Development and Evolution of a Coding System’, Qualitative Sociology Vol. 24, No. 3 (2001), p. 382. 81. Ibid. 82. Lisa M. Lewis, Sheila Hankin, Diane Reynolds and Gbenga Ogedegbe, ‘African American Spirituality: A Process of Honoring God, Others, and Self ’, Journal of Holistic Nursing Vol. 25, No. 1 (2007), p. 17. 83. Strauss and Corbin, Basics of Qualitative Research, p. 96. 84. Glaser and Strauss, The Discovery of Grounded Theory, p. 87. 85. Ibid., pp. 123–4.

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share about their daily routines, which yielded data that was not really useful to explain their social interpersonal relationship patterns or cultural theme. Thus, irrelevant data was ‘trimmed’ out of the analysed text. Theoretical sampling. The next step I took was theoretical sampling. Charmaz explains that theoretical sampling is a good strategy that helps ‘to narrow your focus on emerging categories and as a technique to develop and refine them. Theoretical sampling helps you to check, qualify and elaborate the boundaries of your categories and to specify the relations among categories.’86 After all categories and sub-categories of the 19 interviews where identified, I went back to the community to do some further participant observation, informal interviews and two focus groups to elaborate the meaning of my categories, discover if there were any variations within them and to define if I had any gaps among the categories.87 Theoretical construct and narrative. Auerbach and Silverstein explain that in the last stage one ‘will organize the themes into abstract concepts called theoretical constructs . . . and then use the theoretical constructs to construct a theoretical narrative’.88 The theoretical narrative refers to the ‘process that the research participants reported in terms of your theoretical constructs. It uses identified theoretical constructs to organize people’s subjective experience into a coherent story. It empowers people’s own language to make their story vivid and real.’89 In my descriptions of the narrative I am intentionally moving back and forth between the identified theoretical interpretation and the empirical evidence from the data.90 (c) Methodology for Doing Ecclesial Theology The methodology discussed in this section describes the methodological design and procedure to gather local ecclesial and theological reflections of the selfunderstanding of the FECH. This is an attempt to reveal an espoused theology based on the specifics of the community’s articulation of its beliefs, as well as the operant theology embedded in their actual practices.91 The aim here is to discern and reflect on the implicit and explicit aspects of the FCH ecclesial life.

86. Charmaz, Constructing Grounded Theory, p. 107. 87. Ibid., p. 108. 88. Carl F. Auerbach and Louise B. Silverstein, Qualitative Data: An Introduction to Coding and Analysis, Qualitative Studies in Psychology (New York: New York University Press, 2003), p. 67. 89. Ibid. 90. Charmaz, Constructing Grounded Theory, pp. 152–3. 91. Deborah Bhatti, Helen Cameron, Catherine Duce, James Sweeney, and Clare Watkins, Living Church in the Global City: A Theology in Practice (2008), available from http://www. rcc.ac.uk/downloads/pdf_files/ARCS%2520Report%25202008.pdf. (accessed 24 September 2012), p. 10.

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The procedure for gathering and analysing data was geared towards the FECH articulating their espoused theology while participant observation revealed more of the operant theology that was embedded in their actual practices. Luis Pantoja calls for an ‘analogous experience’ in the methodological procedure in doing appropriate contextual theology for Filipinos. One must first appeal . . . to the Bible and find out what God has to say about the subject. Furthermore, we must depend on the account of God’s actions towards specific people groups in the Bible and also move beyond God’s dealing with the Jews. Then, in recognition of God’s present activity in human history, we draw upon the contemporary global data and insights, particularly about the Filipino context that can augment and complement the biblical material.92

This hermeneutical approach produces findings with meaning and connection with the ‘analogous experience’ between the culture and the Bible that shapes a contextual theology that reflects a Filipino identity in the context of a street-level community. To gather data that reflects the homeless population’s own interpretation of Scripture, I started a workshop in January 2011 and invited people from the FECH who were interested in this project. One of the reasons I chose one particular book of the Bible is the general hermeneutical principle of seeing major theological motifs developed within a whole book. The focus about the life, ministry and teaching of Jesus Christ in Mark provides opportunity to trace patterns of themes (social concepts) throughout that are relevant to the FECH. Granted, it might be helpful to move into other books in the Bible to explore these social concepts further, but that would be beyond the scope of this research. Instead of choosing passages that I think would be relevant and most productive for my research, I decided to work with the homeless through the entire book of Mark. This was important because prior to this workshop most, if not all of the homeless population had never engaged in hermeneutical re-reading of Scripture, and it was hard for them in the beginning to critically engage with Scripture. However, as time went on they developed the skill and were able to deepen their interpretational abilities. Studying the whole gospel gave them a chronological perspective of the life, ministry and teaching of Jesus Christ; and their unique perspectives and hermeneutical work highlighted passages that I would not have initially chosen for this research project. To be able to identify and examine scriptural or theological motifs formed by the FECH raises the question of how to gather data from mainly oral learners, such as the FECH, and how they theologically reflect on Scripture. Oral learners ‘depend mostly on verbal, non-print means to learn, to communicate with others, to express

92. Luis Pantoja, ‘Formulating a Theology of the Filipino Diaspora’, Scattered: the Filipino Global Presence (eds. Luis Pantoja, Sadiri Joy Tira and Enoch Wan; Manila: Life Change Publishing Incorporated, 2004), p. 70.

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themselves, and to enjoy a story’.93 To gather theological reflections from Scripture from an oral culture, we need to be aware that ‘[i]n the absence of elaborate analytic categories that depend on writing to structure knowledge at a distance from lived experience, oral culture must conceptualize and verbalize all their knowledge with more or less close reference to the human life-world, assimilating the alien, objective world to the more immediate, familiar interaction of human beings’.94 Hiebert added that in oral societies, knowledge ‘is stored in the forms of stories, parables, songs, aphorisms, proverbs, riddles, poems, creeds and catechism that can be easily remembered’.95 It is important to keep in mind that the Bible arose in an oral environment. This reality that a literature might be composed for the ear rather than the eyes baffles the literate mind. This is specially the case in a highly individualistic, literate society, which seems to assume that narrative texts are read in silence. The Old and New Testaments were written during times when the vast majority of people could not read. As the early church used story telling in their oral culture to share about the life and ministry of Jesus, so it seemed appropriate to do so with the homeless community. The first workshop was on 22 January 2011 and the last one was on 19 November 2011 (see Appendix A, Table  4).96 I asked two research assistants, both native Filipinas, to facilitate the workshop. I was not involved in the actual session so not to guide the discussion in the direction of my own preferences and miss cultural or language clues that Filipinos/as would be able to pick up. I asked the research assistants to make sure that everybody had the opportunity to share his/her views on the passage. Usually, one participant would be asked to repeat the story, or we would make groups of two that would tell the story to each other. As the discussion proceeded, to remind the participants of the story, the story was repeated. After the story, they were asked if they had any questions about the passage. If a question was raised, the facilitator would not provide an answer but ask the

93. Richard Brown, ‘Communicating God’s Message in an Oral Culture’, International Journal of Frontier Missions No. 21.3 (2004), p. 122. 94. Walter J. Ong, Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, New Accents (London: Methuen, 1982), p. 42. 95. Paul G. Hiebert, Transforming Worldviews: An Anthropological Understanding of how People Change (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008), p. 116. 96. The participants were informed that I was doing this project for my doctoral research and that each session would be recorded. I let them know that their identities would be protected, and they vocally expressed their agreement. From the beginning, I let them know that there were no wrong answers and that everybody was allowed to say what they thought. Also, I communicated that I was looking at their own understandings of what the passage meant and that they should not say what they might anticipate my answer would be.

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group to discuss it and come up with their own answer. If there were no questions raised, the facilitator asked the questions that we had prepared.97 Sometimes the facilitator had to guide the discussion back to the passage as participants wandered off, or had to make sure that some vocal person did not dominate the discussion but that all were involved. At all times, the participants were allowed to generate and to discuss the various issues for themselves. After each workshop the data was transcribed from the recording, representing the hermeneutical work on the Gospel of Mark by the homeless. To be able to identify theological motifs from the data, I used grounded theory as an inductive strategy to organize, manage and analyse the data. This methodological approach usually uncovers insights and themes that otherwise may have been missed. The aim of grounded theory is to rely as much as possible on the participants’ views. However, in the process of identifying and describing theological themes, one must be intentionally selective. As the aim of this research is not to provide an extensive hermeneutical work on all the possible themes of the Gospel of Mark from the homeless perspective, but rather to identify and describe major theological and ecclesial themes of the FECH, I selected several passages in which these themes are represented. As I describe the FECH’s hermeneutical work in Chapter 5, which forms their espoused theology, I also bring in some of their operant theology. In other words, they might be articulating certain theological themes, but in my observation of their faith community, some of their actual practices add insights or a totally different take on the theological theme. For example, when they worked through Mark 14:12–16 (describing the Lord’s Supper), their emphasis was on what it means for them personally, while in their actual practices, it became a medium of social reconciliation.

97. For the first months, each week I would sit down with the Silingan Outreach (SO) team to discuss the passages for that week. When the passage or story was identified, we articulated several open questions. The questions were geared towards starting a discussion about the meaning of the passages. Later on, seven homeless volunteers (elders of the community) met every Monday to prepare the questions. They chose the week’s passage and prepared a few questions that would help start a discussion about the meaning of the passage. From that time onwards, they were the ones facilitating the workshop.

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Chapter 3 E C C L E SIA L I T Y A N D L O C A L I T Y O F T H E C H U R C H

An ecclesiological investigation into describing a local ecclesiology requires a theological framework. Particularly, the question has to be raised, ‘What is the Church?’ What makes a church ‘a church’ and not a social club or a religious gathering? What are the indispensable contours (markers) that shape the identity of the Church, revealing the status of being a genuine Christian Church? Particularly, as this study examines the ecclesial identity of the FECH, we want to assess them in light of the sine qua non of the nature (ecclesiality) of the Church that provides criteria to analyse the ecclesial status of a community. These indispensable ecclesial contours have a long tradition that has shaped their content and will be continually in process. In this chapter I will show that the content of these contours is neither static nor fixed and hence, the ecclesiality and locality of the Church are intrinsically interconnected. The dynamic relation of ecclesiality and locality gives space to these contours for re-reading them with the Church’s ‘social and political Sitz im Leben’. This creates, then, the ecclesial framework to ask: ‘What are the contours of Church that emerge among the FECH’s?’ with the specific focus on understanding: ‘How are they expressed by the FECH?’ What content does the FECH contribute to these ecclesial contours? What follows is a theological framework to answer these questions, including an investigation into the Scripture, traditions, and different historical and contemporary debates on the understanding of the Church’s ecclesiality.1 Scripture actually avoids a precise definition of Church, and looking at a definition of Church from any particular perspective, Lewis Smedes explains, ‘can miss what makes the Church a living reality’.2 Paul S. Minear elaborates that

1. At the outset of this study I said that I do not attempt or even believe it is possible to provide a fully coherent, systematic and comprehensive discussion on the ecclesiality of the Church in one simple chapter. There are sure to be some facets not covered in this chapter that would provide other perspectives for considering the Church. The aim here is to provide a starting point for serious study of the Church. 2. Lewis B. Smedes, ‘The Essence of the Church’, C. T., Oct. 26 (1959), p. 5.

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Urban Ecclesiology . . . all recent explorations of the nature of the church have made it clear that the church does not have a nature that can be readily defined simply by looking, no matter how directly, at the church itself. Its life springs from, is nourished by, and is oriented toward the fullness of glory of the triune God. If we would glimpse even the barest outlines of the church, we must take full account of the activity of the living Christ and of the Holy Spirit.3

Douglas M. Koskela points out that any attempt to settle upon one vision of the ecclesiality of the Church inevitably precludes others. This hinders further dialogue toward Christian unity, which is a central condition of ecclesiality.4 Koskela argues that we need to make sure that the question of judgement is left out of any ecclesiality of the Church;5 this is crucial as we seek to listen and learn from the marginal ecclesiological narratives. Ecclesiality is about the ontology of the Church. Determining and describing the identity of the church will shape insights into the mission and place of the Church, as these three aspects are always interrelated. Although an exploration of the ecclesiality of the Church does elude a clear and simple definition, nevertheless, there are scriptural signposts, metaphors and images that reveal much about the ecclesiality of the Church and are crucial for assessing a genuine Christian Church. In this chapter, I focus on the ideal ecclesial contours, a theological understanding of the church, while in Chapters 6 and 7, I aim to describe these contours in the visible ecclesial gathering of the FECH, addressing their empirical reality of their church.

I. Indispensable Ecclesial Contours In an ecclesiological study like this, the Church’s self-definition is not sufficient; rather, there should be external markers (contours) that help to define the essence of Church.6 To gain insights into these markers this chapter provides inputs from the study of ecclesiality, identifying and delineating ecclesial contours that kept emerging over time. These ecclesial contours are important, emphasizing one and the same Church existing through history and differing contexts in order to keep the balance in the tendency of local ecclesiology to over emphasize one particular local context or time period.

3. Paul Sevier Minear, Images of the Church in the New Testament (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1960), p. 12. 4. See the discussion in this chapter on the ‘The Church is One’. 5. Douglas M. Koskela, Ecclesiality and Ecumenism: Yves Congar and The Road to Unity (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 2008), p. 11. 6. Miroslav Volf, After Our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998), pp. 128–54.

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These contours include images of the Church that illustrate the triune God, the eschatological reality of the Church, and the notae ecclesia (internae and externae). These ecclesial contours describe the ecclesial identity and mission of the Church. It has been noted that they exist not merely to legitimatize a new form of Church over other churches, but to provide guideposts as criteria of critical self-reflection for the Church ‘to understand that what she IS is also what she must become’.7 The conditions of ecclesiality discussed in this Chapter are nothing more than the ecclesial reality in which its members are ‘coming alive and fulfilling’8 their purpose in being. (a) The Church’s Relation to Israel The study of the Greek word, ekklêsia, is generally used by New Testament scholars to designate the Church. Ekklêsia comes from the Greek assemblage of the verb kaleo (‘to call’) and the preposition ek (‘out of ’) that results in the noun ekklêsia, depicting the idea of ‘the called out ones’.9 Mark E. Dever notes that, etymologically, there is a connection between the Old Testament word for ‘assembly’, gahal, and the New Testament word ekklêsia.10 Given its presence in the Septuagint, Stanley J. Grenz notes that the early Christian choice of ekklêsia as their self-designation suggests that they sought to link ‘themselves as the followers of Jesus to what God had begun in the wilderness with the nation of Israel’.11 The use of ekklêsia emphasizes that people are called together or gathered by God (see Rom. 1:6–7; 1 Cor. 1:2). The early Christian self-designation of their community as being the ekklêsia, perhaps is best understood as deriving from their sense of continuity with Israel. Richard P. McBrien mentions that the early Christians ‘did not see themselves as part of a new religion separate from Judaism, but as a renewal movement within it. Their hope was that many within Israel would accept the risen Christ, but this was not to be.’12 ‘[A]s “the Israel of God” (Gal. 6:16), the Church remains related, in a mysterious way, to the Jewish people, even as a branch is grafted onto the rich root of an olive tree (see Rom. 11:11–36).’13

7. Charles E. Van Engen, The Growth of the True Church: An Analysis of the Ecclesiology of Church Growth Theory (Amsterdam Studies in Theology, Vol.  3, Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1981), p. 55. 8. Gerard Mannion, Readings in Church Authority: Gifts and Challenges for Contemporary Catholicism (Aldershot, Hants, UK: Ashgate, 2003), p. 352. 9. Stanley J. Grenz, Theology for the Community of God (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000), p. 464. 10. Mark E. Dever, ‘The Church’, in A Theology for the Church (ed. Daniel L. Akin; Nashville, TN: B&H Publishing Group, 2007), p. 768. 11. Grenz, Theology for the Community of God, p. 465. 12. Richard P. McBrien, The Church: The Evolution of Catholicism (New York: HarperOne, 2008), pp. 27–8, italics in original. 13. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 7.

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New Testament theology is in one sense a natural consequence of the continued development of revelation history; on the other hand, it also has a totally new aspect, the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah. As Israel has been the chosen people of God in the old covenant, so the New Testament church enjoys this identity based on the new covenant. The OT covenant of God played a crucial role in Israel’s daily life, and shaped their understanding of who they were and for what purpose they existed. Similarly, the new covenant with the Triune God shapes the Church’s life, her understanding of who she is, and for what purpose she exists. (b) Biblical Images of the Church Charles Van Engen pointed out that a semantic study of the ecclesiality of the Church does little to contribute to our understanding of it. But rather, if we seek to understand any given concept in its cultural milieu, it is crucial to analyse the ‘dynamic equivalents of thought, image, and feeling. One aspect of this method involved word-pictures which graphically convey meaning.’14 Furthermore, John E. Toews observes that ‘the New Testament provides no theological definition of the church. Ecclesiology in the New Testament is shaped by images, not definitional statements. Nowhere are we told what the church is . . . New Testament ecclesiology is metaphorical, not doctrinal. Furthermore, the images used are many and diverse, not singular.’15 Paul Minear in his classic work points to ninety-six images for the Church in the New Testament. Avery Dulles rightly mentions that not all of the ninety-six images represented are referring directly to the Church; however, he too agrees that the New Testament authors use a large number of images for the Church.16 Minear notes that all the images have the same ‘direction’, and that none of them dominates: ‘One should not ask how one image is superior to another. We would be on sounder grounds if we asked how one image benefited from its association with another.’17 One third of these are called minor images. Minear groups the other sixty-four images into four major sets: the People of God, the New Creation, the Body of Christ and the Fellowship of Saints. Minear remarks that the image of the Church as the people of God (1 Pet. 2:9–10) ties the generation of contemporary Christian community to the historic community which originated in God’s covenant promises.18 Even though we observe profound similarity between Israel being

14. Charles E. Van Engen, Mission on the Way: Issues in Mission Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2000), p. 106. 15. John E. Toews, ‘The Nature of the Church’, Direction Vol. 18, No. 2 (1989), p 10. 16. Avery Dulles, Models of the Church (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1974), p. 23. 17. Minear, Images of the Church, p. 228. 18. Ibid., p. 67.

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God’s people and the New Testament Church, Grenz notes that that there is ‘one important difference. No longer is status as God’s nation based on membership within a specific ethnic group. Now people from the entire world are called together to belong to God; the Church is an international fellowship comprising of persons “from every tribe and language and people and nation” (Rev. 5:9).’19 Furthermore, this paradigm of the people of God gives special focus ‘on the Church as a network of interpersonal relationships, on the Church as community’.20 McBrien notes that due to living in a rapidly changing world, some images lose their power, while others may lose their impact (for example the Church as a pilgrim people works well among an urbanized people, while a sheepfold does not).21 The New Testament uses images and metaphors to illuminate the ecclesiality of the Church. However, as Avery Dulles cautions, ‘Because images are derived from the finite realities of experience, they are never adequate in representing the mystery of grace. Each model of the Church has its weaknesses; none should be chosen as the measure of all the rest. Instead of searching for some absolutely best image, it would be advisable to recognize that the manifold images given to us by Scripture and tradition are complementary.’22 Being aware of this, Dulles still points out that ‘[t]he Bible, when it seeks to illuminate the nature of the Church, speaks almost entirely through images’.23 The existence of numerous ecclesial metaphors cautions against strongly emphasizing one image over the other. On the other hand, it gives freedom in different contexts or situations to adopt or even further develop images of a church for their particular context. This empirical research will reveal that the classical ecclesiology widely neglected image of the family of God (familia dei) becomes a central ecclesial metaphor for the FECH as it encapsulates well the nature, mission and place of the church within their particular historical and cultural framework. (c) Ecumenical Conditions of Ecclesiality: ‘Ecclesial Fruitfulness’ Many scholars argue that the Lord’s Supper24 is crucial to the discussion of the ecclesiality. Although our theologies and theological languages of the Lord’s Supper may greatly differ (from a transubstantiation view of the Eucharist to seeing it as a sign or symbol), Scripture and tradition make it clear that the Lord’s

19. Grenz, Theology for the Community of God, p. 466. 20. Dulles, Models of the Church, p. 34. 21. McBrien, The Church, p. 17. 22. Dulles, Models of the Church, p. 36. 23. Ibid., p. 11. 24. There is no distinction of the Lord’s Supper, Eucharist and Holy Communion found explicitly in the New Testament, and it is beyond the purview of this study to provide a full discussion. Although each of these terms is nuanced within different historical and denominational contexts, I decided to use them interchangeably to reflect the diversity of the community and not overemphasize my own tradition.

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Supper is central to ecclesial life.25 As we receive the body of Christ by partaking in the Eucharist (see 1 Cor. 12:27; Eph. 1:22–23), Edmund Schlink explains we are being built ‘up as the body of Christ’.26 As we are part of the body of Christ, we also partake in the suffering of Christ (see Col. 1:24) and in his resurrection.27 The Church’s unity is expressed and celebrated in the sacraments. If the Eucharist aims to promote a unifying effect to the body of Christ, why do inter- and intra-ecclesial divisions often tend to exclude some from the Eucharist? It is natural for the Church to establish some boundaries as it is her responsibility ‘to preserve the practices taught by Jesus, as well as the meanings and values that preserve those practices’.28 Instead of promoting an inclusive Eucharist table fellowship, inter-ecclesial theologies and practices endorse varying degrees of exclusionary Eucharistic practice. Jean Zizioulas counters that the only thing that the Eucharist excludes is the ‘exclusion of exclusion’, which are schism, apostasy and heresy that deserve exclusion. Therefore Zizioulas notes: ‘The Eucharist must include all . . . for it is there that otherness of a natural or social kind can be transcended. A Church which does not celebrate the Eucharist in this inclusive way risks losing her catholicity.’29 Drawing upon John Dominic Crossan’s reading of Jesus’ practices, M. Shawn Copeland says, ‘Jesus demanded of his hearers and disciples personal conversion and new body practices of solidarity. Chief among these practices was the inclusion of new and “other” bodies at the table.’30 As ‘the Lord’s Supper is the Sacrament which builds up community’, the WCC notes that ‘all kinds of injustice, racism, estrangement, and lack of freedom are radically challenged when we share in the body and blood of Christ’.31

25. See WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 21. 26. Edmund Schlink, The Coming Christ and the Coming Church (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1968), p. 101. 27. Minear, Images of the Church, p. 174. 28. Neil Ormerod, ‘Ecclesiology and Exclusion: Setting Boundaries for the Church’, in Ecclesiology and Exclusion: Boundaries of Being and Belonging in Postmodern Times (eds Dennis Doyle, Tim Fury and Pascal Bazzell; Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2012), p. 215. 29. Jean Zizioulas, Communion and Otherness: Further Studies in Personhood and the Church (ed. Paul McPartlan; London and New York: T & T Clark, 2006), p. 7. 30. M. Shawn Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom: Body, Race, and Being, Innovations (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010), p. 61f. 31. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 21. For a more recent contribution on ecclesial exclusion and sacramental practices, see Mary McClintock Fulkerson’s exploration of an ‘exclusion’ connected to serious forms of obliviousness that are operative in most Protestant communion practices; C. Pierson Shaw, Jr. articulates steps for the Protestant churches that are geared towards ultimately removing ecumenical barriers; and Susan K. Wood and Stephen Annan reflect on the Roman Catholic Church sacramental exclusion in Dennis Doyle, Tim Fury and Pascal Bazzell, Ecclesiology and Exclusion: Boundaries of Being and Belonging in Postmodern Times (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2012).

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Intra-communal exclusion often derives from sacramental doctrines, which regard other Christian communities’ celebrations of the Eucharist as defective and invalid because of a defectus ordinis. In the ecumenical spirit of this study, I take the position that the Eucharist is crucial to understanding the nature of the Church; however, sacraments (such as the Eucharist) should not be seen as a condition of ecclesiality (see Chapter 6 where I elaborate on this argument).32 If the ontological reality of the Eucharist depends on the ontology of the Christian community, it seems more methodologically appropriate to articulate criteria of ecclesiality based on the ecclesial life of a Christian community. Walter Kasper notes that a valid episcopate and Eucharist, for instance, are only the signs of life or signs of the ecclesial vitality of a Christian community, not the life itself.33 Ecumenical dialogues noted that in many Protestant communities, ecclesial reality cannot be adequately evaluated by reference solely to the validity or invalidity of their Eucharistic practice. To be able to move beyond conditions of ecclesiality that make it difficult for some Churches to recognize other Christian communities as ‘Church’, Richard Gaillardetz has argued for ‘ecclesial vitality’34 and Christopher Paul recently for ‘ecclesial fruitfulness’35 as the standard for ‘Church’. Both aim at developing a perspective that sees a growing convergence of criteria for recognizing ‘Church’ that will ‘recognise in one another the Church of Jesus Christ’,36 and which encourages steps towards visible unity. Even though, methodologically, it may be more appropriate to articulate criteria of ecclesiality based on the ecclesial life of a Christian community, this approach has been deeply neglected. Francis Sullivan acknowledges that an institutionally deficient non-Catholic community may have a greater ecclesial vitality than many Catholic communities: ‘There is no question of denying that a non-Catholic community, perhaps lacking much in the order of sacrament, can achieve the res, the communion of the life of Christ in faith, hope and love, more perfectly than many a Catholic community.’37 32. See also Luis M. Bermejo, Towards Christian Reunion: Vatican I: Obstacles and Opportunities (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1987), p. 310. 33. Walter Kasper, ‘Convergence and Divergence in the Question of Office’, The Plurality of Ministries (eds Hans Küng and Walter Kasper; New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), p. 116. 34. Richard Gaillardetz has pointed out that official Church teaching has completely failed to address the ‘ecclesial vitality’ of a Christian community when considering whether such communities are ‘churches’. See Richard R. Gaillardetz, ‘The Church of Christ and the Churches: Is the Vatican Retreating from Ecumenism?’, America Vol. 197, No. 5 (2007), p. 19. 35. Sean Christopher Paul, ‘By Their Fruits You Shall Know Them: Ecclesial Fruitfulness as a Standard of Protestant and Anglican Ecclesiality, Drawing on the Works of Joseph Ratzinger and Walter Kasper’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation, The Graduate School of Arts and Sciences: Department of Theology, Boston College, Boston, 2011), p. 5. 36. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 3. 37. Francis A. Sullivan, ‘Subsisit In: The Significance of Vatican II’s Decision to Say of the Church of Christ not that it “is,” but that it “subsists in” the Roman Catholic Church’, One in Christ Vol. 22, No. 2 (1986), p. 120, italics in original.

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Miroslav Volf draws on an example of two different churches in a neighbourhood: ‘a Catholic or Orthodox diocese whose members are inclined more to superstition than to faith and who identify with the church more for nationalistic reasons— should such a diocese be viewed as a church, while a Baptist congregation that has preserved its faith through the crucible of persecution not be considered such?’38 Although doubtless an atypical situation, through this hypothetical experiment, Miroslav Volf (and in a similar example Richard Gaillardetz) come to the conclusion that it would be hard to understand ecclesiality in terms of an objective list of having or not having (e.g. Petrine ministry, valid eucharist). In searching for more adequate criteria for evaluating ecclesiality and Church, Paul argues for ‘ecclesial fruitfulness’ as a sign to discern the presence of a particular underlying reality in a Christian community.39 He defines ‘ecclesial fruitfulness’ as, [T]he Spirit effectiveness in realizing the mystery of God’s salvation given in Jesus Christ (understood as an ongoing transformation of those in the community from lives of egoism to lives characterized by an unselfish love for God and neighbor) through the community’s proclamation of God’s fruitfulness of ministry in leading its members to salvation is another way of recognizing genuine ecclesiality: One implication, which certainly needs deeper exploration, concerns the ecclesial Word, the celebration of the sacraments (particularly the Eucharist), and through fostering communion with other churches and ecclesial communities. A Christian community in which the Spirit is active in this way is therefore ‘ecclesially fruitful’ and as such merits the designation of ‘church’.40

Even though the Eucharist might be ‘ritually invalid’, any community whose Eucharist produces such fruit as described in Paul’s definition of ‘ecclesial fruitfulness’ should be considered ‘valid’.41 Traditionally, Catholics would view institutional imperfections in other churches, yet, Catholic theologian Gregory Baum advocates that if a non-Catholic Christian community listens faithfully to the gospel, shares in the Lord’s Supper, and otherwise behaves as a living fellowship of Christians, then because of the reality of that living fellowship, this community deserves to be called a ‘Church‘ in the theological sense of the word.42 In summary, ecclesial vitality or ecclesial fruitfulness is a helpful framework for promoting greater unity among the body of Christ. It provides criteria to assess the FECH’s identity, mission and place explored in this study. What is the ‘ecclesial

38. Volf, After Our Likeness, p.  133; and Gaillardetz, The Church of Christ and the Churches, pp. 19–20. 39. Paul, ‘By Their Fruits You Shall Know Them’, p. 328. 40. Ibid., pp. 328–9. 41. Ibid., p. 352. 42. Gregory Baum, ‘The Ecclesial Reality of the Other Churches’, The Church and Ecumenism (ed. Hans Küng; New York: Paulist Press, 1965), p. 45; see also Paul, ‘By Their Fruits You Shall Know Them’, p. 68.

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fruitfulness’ of the FECH in their identity, mission and place? Are there any transformative changes within and through the FECH’s members? Are they characterized by unselfish love for God and their neighbours? In line with ecumenical openness, ecclesial fruitfulness nurtures an open dialogue that benefits all as they ‘may become an ecumenical exchange of gifts’.43 It is this ecumenical spirit that leads us to a discussion of the attributes of the church, in line with the WCC’s claim that the ‘goal of the search for full communion is realized when all the churches are able to recognise in another the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church in its fullness’ and express this in a reconciled common life’.44 (d) The Attributes of Being Church Historical and contemporary scholars from various traditions agree that the attributes (notae) of the Church reveal the ecclesiality of the Church. The Nicene Creed was formulated at the Council of Constantinople in 381 CE and included the four attributes of the church: ‘one, holy, catholic and apostolic’. These have been generally accepted throughout the history of the Church. The one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church is active and present in every local church.45 These attributes were not so much viewed as a definition of the Church but rather that, whatever is said about the true Church, it is essentially a Church that is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.46 These notae internae are statements of faith, as ‘we believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church’ [my own italics].47 Still, there exist different interpretations of the marks of the Church that are mostly based on either objective or subjective conceptions of the conditions of ecclesiality. Some Churches would tend towards an objective reading of the marks

43. Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, An Introduction to Ecclesiology: Ecumenical, Historical & Global Perspectives (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2002), p. 232. 44. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 32, see also p. 17. 45. Christus Dominus 11; Lumen gentium 26. 46. Howard Snyder, ‘The Marks of Evangelical Ecclesiology’, Evangelical Ecclesiology: Reality or Illusion? (ed. John Gordon Stackhouse; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2003), p. 156. Moltmann states: ‘Although the creed limits itself of these three or four marks of the church, this has never been seen in history as a restriction, but always as a pointer to the essentials. Theological doctrines of the church therefore include a wealth of other signs. Luther, for example, names seven: (i) the preaching of the true word of God; (ii) the right administration of baptism; (iii) the right form of the Lord’s supper; (iv) the power of the keys; (v) the rightful calling and ordination of the church’s ministers; (vi) prayer and hymn singing in the vernacular; (vii) suffering and persecution. The church’s creeds, however, always stopped short at the four classical attributes. These are undoubtedly the essential ones.’ See Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit: A Contribution to Messianic Ecclesiology (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993), p. 340. 47. As Moltmann notes, when writing on the four marks, ‘they are made by faith, and unless they are made in faith they lose their meaning’. Ibid., p. 337.

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of the Church. This interprets unity in submission to the magisterium, catholicity in the universal adherence to the Church’s creed and law, holiness in the sanctity of the mass (rightly performed), and apostolicity in the legitimate succession of pastors in the line of Peter.48 Others would tend towards a more subjective reading of the marks of the Church. This perspective sees unity and catholicity of the Church as grounded in shared faith that leads to personal and ecclesial holiness. Apostolicity is understood in reference to the authority and witness of the apostles, and consequently, the final authority of the Scriptures for Church life and doctrine.49 To be able to mediate between the two poles, Volf locates the identification of the Church in a ‘consistently communal occurrence in which the objective and subjective conditions of ecclesiality appear as two dimensions of a single process’.50 These four attributes reveal the ecclesiality of the Church as guideposts to critical and reflective engagement with them. However, there is always a danger of misusing them divisively by claiming one ecclesiality over other churches. Historically, we can observe how often older and younger forms of church have had the tendency to use them in order to view their church as superior over other churches and to selfishly exploit these attributes. Such a course of action is contrary to the essence of these attributes, in that they seek to proclaim unity in Christ, encourage purity through Christ’s holiness, include the excluded, and share in their suffering. These attributes challenge all churches.51 The attributes of the Church should not be given a static definition.52 Van Engen argues that we need to look at the four marks of the Church as the four attributes in action. Rather than looking at them as adjectives that qualify a thing, we should see the four attributes as adverbs that ‘describe the missionary action of the

48. See Dulles, Models of the Church, pp. 127–8. 49. See Shane Jack Clifton, ‘An Analysis of the Developing Ecclesiology of the Assemblies of God in Australia’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation, School of Theology Faculty Arts and Sciences, Australian Catholic University, Victoria, 2005), pp. 24–5. I am using Clifton’s PhD dissertation for this text, as well as another passage that I quote (see footnote 83), as his substantially revised book has omitted these passages. See Shane Jack Clifton, Pentecostal Churches in Transition: An Analysis of the Developing Ecclesiology of the Assemblies of God in Australia (Global Pentecostal and Charismatic Studies, Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009). 50. See Volf, After Our Likeness, p. 136. 51. See Edward Schillebeeckx, Church: The Human Story of God (New York: Crossroad, 1990), p. 197. 52. Steinacker and Dantine come to the same conclusion in both of their Habilitationsschrift (post-doctoral degree) on the notae ecclesial. See Peter Steinacker, Die Kennzeichen der Kirche: eine Studie zu ihrer Einheit, Heiligkeit, Katholizität und Apostolizität (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1982); and Johannes Dantine, Die Kirche vor der Frage nach ihrer Wahrheit: die Reformatorische Lehre von der ‘Notae Ecclesiae’ und dem Versuch ihrer Entfaltung in der Kirchlichen Situation der Gegenwart (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1980).

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Church’s essential life in the world. This would make the four to be more than static “attributes,” more than testing “marks,” and even more than dynamic “gifts53 and tasks”.’54 As we examine the four marks of the Church in which the objective and subjective conditions of ecclesiality appear, they are not only matters internal to the Church’s ecclesial identity, but also have an outward direction.55 In addition, we may acknowledge the context in which they were articulated which gives us freedom ‘to move other marks of the true Church into the foreground in a changed world situation, and to link these with the traditional ones’.56 In his work, Jürgen Moltmann provides a reinterpretation of the four traditional marks as they relate to the Church’s ‘social and political Sitz im Leben’. For Moltmann other notae may emerge into the foreground in an altered world, but they should always be connected with the traditional attributes.57 The purpose of the following section is not to provide absolute, comprehensive or exclusive definitions of these attributes but rather historical and contemporary reflections on them that later will constitute the ecclesial frame for the FECH’s reinterpretation in Chapter 6. The focus here is to understand these indispensable ecclesial contours that provide the ecclesiological framework to examine them in the next chapters in the embodiment of the FECH’s developing ecclesiology. 1. The Church is One. The attribute of ‘one’ Church is a confessional statement of the unity in the Christian community. The Ephesians 4:4–6 passage indicates the members are unified in their being called together for one hope, with ‘one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all’. ‘The Church is one because God is the one creator and redeemer (see Jn 17:11, Eph. 4:1–6), who binds the Church to himself by Word and Spirit and makes it a foretaste and instrument for the redemption of all created reality.’58 Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen mentions that the ‘principle of “unity in diversity” means that just as each person of the Trinity is autonomous, so the church is made up of a number of independent, yet related autocephalous churches’.59 ‘The unity of the Church is not primarily the unity of her members, but the unity of Christ who acts upon them all, in all places and at all times.’60 The inclusion of the New Testament use of the plural ‘churches’ (see Acts 15:41; Rom. 16:16; 1 Cor. 4:17; 7:17; 11:16;

53. Richard Gaillardetz states that the four attributes are ‘a set of theological claims regarding those qualities of the church which it possessed as a gift made possible by the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit’. See Gaillardetz, Ecclesiology for a Global Church, p. xx. 54. Charles E. Van Engen, God’s Missionary People: Rethinking the Purpose of the Local Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1991), p. 68. 55. Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, pp. 341–2. 56. Ibid., p. 340. 57. Ibid., p. 361. 58. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, pp. 4–6. 59. Kärkkäinen, An Introduction to Ecclesiology, p. 20. 60. Schlink, The Coming Christ and the Coming Church, p. 105.

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16:1, 19; 2 Cor. 8:1; Gal. 1:2; 1 Thess. 2:14) denotes the one body with many members (see 1 Cor. 12–14), which ‘testifies to the compatibility of unity and diversity’.61 The oneness of the Church is therefore pertaining to the wholeness given as a gift from God to the Church. God will not create another Church as there is only the unica Ecclesia.62 ‘Unity in truth is unity with Christ and thus with the Trinity. [. . .] This unity in truth means both unity of belief and unity of life, both orthodoxy and orthopraxis.’63 We are tasked to work towards the unity of the Church, as the oneness of the body of Christ belongs to the very ecclesiality of the Church as it was already given to it in Jesus Christ. This oneness of Church is expressed in a community of diversity that is bounded together in Christ. John Howard Yoder emphasizes that the Church is called to witness to the reality of this new humanity and therefore, ‘Where Christians are not united, the gospel is not true in that place.’64 The WCC points out that our inability to live in full communion with each other creates division among churches, which directly hinders the mission of the Church. ‘Not only does mission have as its ultimate goal the koinonia of all; but effective mission is thwarted by the scandal of division: Jesus prayed that all his disciples be one precisely “so that the world may believe” (Jn 17:21).’65 Shane Clifton summarizes our discussion beautifully by stating, The local church cannot fulfill the mission of the church on its own and, therefore, the missiological identity of the church demands an ecclesial unity that is more concrete than the notion of the eschatological assembly. On the other hand, mission is contextual, and thus necessitates diversity, and allows for local, national and denominational difference and freedom. The assertion that the church exists in diversity and unity arises from its missiological nature.66

The flourishing of a legitimate diversity impacts the realization of legitimate forms of ecclesial structure and sacramental rites. For example, full participation in religious rituals requires a mutual awareness of being bound together with others in a particular place, others in different locations and in different times.67 As each

61. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 6. 62. Jean-Marie Rene Tillard, ‘Preparing for Unity – A Pastoral Approach to Ecumenism’, One in Christ No. 16 (1980), p. 4, italics in original. 63. Howard Snyder, ‘Co-operation in Evangelism’, The New Face of Evangelicalism: An International Symposium on the Lausanne Covenant (ed. C. Renâe Padilla; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1976), pp. 113–34. 64. John Howard Yoder, The Royal Priesthood: Essays Ecclesiastical and Ecumenical (ed. Michael Cartwright; Scottsdale, PA: Herald Press, 1998), p. 291. 65. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 14. 66. Clifton, Pentecostal Churches in Transition, p. 28. 67. See Georg Kraus, Die Kirche, Gemeinschaft des Heils: Ekklesiologie im Geist des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils (Regensburg: Pustet, 2012), p. 80.

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community often has its own distinct social rituals, for example rite of belonging, and so forth, instead of having a certain set of rituals for all local churches, there should be a diversity of receptor rituals. For Hiebert, Shaw, and Tiénou, Rituals bring to the surface – to the explicit attention of the participant – the largely invisible foundations on which their society, culture, and personality are built. They also show people how their structures should be. They provide people with a model of what it means to be fully human, fully male or female, or fully a person of God.68

These rituals are close to the receptors’ heart. This enables participants to experience God and community in their own socio-cultural contexts in a more meaningful way. Openness to ritual diversity also brings a greater creativity into ceremonial liturgical practices of the local church, including even a contextual approach of some receptor folkloric rituals based on pagan feasts or dances. 2. The Church is Holy. As we consider this second attribute of the Church, being holy (1 Cor. 6:11), we are once again reminded that the Church is not just a social grouping but is centred on its Lord, Jesus Christ. The WCC points out that; The Church is holy because God is the holy one (see Isa. 6:3; Lev. 11:44–45) who sent his Son Jesus Christ to overcome all unholiness and to call human beings to become merciful like his Father (see Lk. 6:36), sanctifying the Church by his word of forgiveness in the Holy Spirit and making it his own, the body of Christ (Eph. 5:26–27).69

We also read in 1 Cor. 6:11 that in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and the Spirit of our God the Church is being sanctified. In Eph. 5:26–27 we read: ‘to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless’. Augustine recognized this issue when he was dealing with the Donatists in the late fourth century. The Donatists regarded lapsed bishops as having committed the sin of apostasy (literally, ‘falling away’) and therefore were unable to validly administer the sacraments. Augustine’s response had an enormous influence on the understanding of what the Church is by emphasizing the sinfulness of Christians. He noted that the Church is not to be understood as a society of saints, but a ‘mixed body’ (corpus permixtum) of saints and sinners. Augustine observed in the two biblical parables (Mt. 13:24–31) the basic idea that the holiness of the Church is not a question about its members, but of Christ. From an eschatological perspective, this holiness will be perfected and realized at the last judgement, when

68. Hiebert, Shaw and Tiénou, Understanding Folk Religion, p. 289. 69. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 5.

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the wheat will be separated from the tares.70 Kärkkäinen refers to Luther’s view that seems to build on Augustine’s idea of seeing the believer as being simultaneously ‘just and sinful’ so that a ‘church of Christ, as the communion of saints, is also always a communion of sinners’.71 The Church is both at the same time, ‘communio peccatorum’ and ‘communio sanctorum.’ Here on earth we will always experience this tension as we strive towards what we are not yet fully, yet what we already are, the communio sanctorum. Church history describes a human story with all its sinful shortcomings and tragedies. WCC explains that ‘sin and holiness in the Church is not a relationship of two equal realities, because sin and holiness do not exist on the same level. Rather, holiness denotes the Church’s nature and God’s will for it, while sinfulness is contrary to both (see 1 Cor. 15:21–26).’72 As God alone is the logical subject of holiness, the holiness that belongs to the ecclesiality of the Church is not something affected by the moral or religious actions of any one in the Church; rather it is God’s gift to the Church. The underpinning of God’s holiness in the Church is a participative communion in God’s own life. As the Church abides in God’s holiness, it gives rise to its theological and ethical holiness.73 A crucial mark of holiness in the Church is a communion with those who are suffering, the poor and those at the margins. Following Moltmann’s thoughts on the mark of holiness and poverty,74 we may then say that the Church must make itself poor, because it must relinquish all to God if it is to be holy. This reveals the need for continued renewal of the Church (ecclesia semper reformanda) through transforming of its individuals’ hearts and by structural changes. The Lumen gentium declares that the Church is ‘at once holy and always in need of purification, follows constantly the path of penance and renewal’ (LG no. 8). The Church being Holy is not merely in the ecclesia invisibilis, as some try to argue, or even wanting to justify that the church is without sin; rather, an emphasis needs to be to facilitate awareness in our local churches on hearts of confession (1 Jn 1:8f). If those on the margins would see more hearts with personal desire for God’s holiness (1 Pet. 1:15) in our churches, it might greatly contribute to the breakdown of exclusive barriers. The mark of holiness invites all sinners into a pilgrim community of God’s people (ecclesia peregrinans) that puts its hope in Christ’s holiness and his sanctifying process that will in time be fully revealed (communio sanctorum) (Eph. 5:27).

70. Alister E. McGrath, Christian Theology: An Introduction (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 5th edn, original edition 1994, 2011), pp. 479–80. 71. Kärkkäinen, An Introduction to Ecclesiology, p. 41. 72. WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 14. 73. See Jean-Marie Rene Tillard, Église d’églises: l’ecclésiologie de communion, Cogitatio fidei (Paris: Cerf, 1987), pp. 28, 134. 74. See Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, p. 356.

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The paradox of the Church of God’s ‘holiness’ is the calling ‘to become what it has become’75 through abiding in God’s holiness. In the end, holiness is a quality of being dedicated ‘to’ a divine being. This is contrary to common belief in holiness as a separation ‘from’ something else. The holiness of the Church lies in its devotion (dedication) towards God, not its separation from the world. If we see holiness as separation from the world, the central identity is the world, and not God. 3. The Church is Catholic. The third mark of the Church is the Credo catholicam ecclesiam.76 The Greek term katholikos was not used in Scripture, but first appeared in Ignatius of Antioch’s letter to the Church in Smyrna where he writes: ‘Where Christ Jesus may be, there is the catholic church’ (Smyrn 8:2). The word catholic means, first of all, that the church has an identity that cannot be altered, and hence exhibits the continuity and universality of the ‘all-uniting presence of Christ’.77 The Church is catholic in its mission because it applies to the lordship of Christ as ‘in its proclamation it appeals to people who do not belong to it, and because it does not accept that there is any sphere which Christ would not have claimed for his own from the beginning’.78 Catholicity must be understood eschatologically, as ‘an anticipation of the still outstanding gathering of the whole people of God, albeit an anticipation in which communal eschatological salvation is experienced concretely’.79 Volf argues that ‘the catholicity of the concrete local church’ cannot coherently be understood ‘as a realization of the existing universal church’ but only as its ‘anticipation of the still outstanding gathering of the whole people of God’.80 He further elaborates that ‘[t]he catholicity of the local church is a historical anticipation of the eschatological catholicity of the people of God in the totality of God’s new creation’.81 A local church is catholic as it partakes in ‘all ministries within itself necessary to mediate salvation’ and ‘the totality of its members is the bearer of these ministries. Here catholicity means the fullness of spiritual gifts allotted to the local church.’82 The minimal requirement for the condition of catholicity is found in relations between churches that express an ‘openness of each church to all other churches’.83 A church would be ‘uncatholic’ when it separates itself from other churches, or where it focuses inwardly instead of outwardly. Catholicity in a local church is seen in its ‘willingness to accept other Christians and other churches precisely in their otherness (see Rom. 14:1–5, 13)’.84

75. Tillard, Église d’églises, p. 51. 76. See Karl, Church Dogmatics, p. 196. 77. Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, p. 348. 78. Ibid., p. 349. 79. Volf, After Our Likeness, p. 272. 80. Ibid. 81. Ibid. 82. Ibid., p. 273, italics in original. 83. Ibid., p. 275, italics in original. 84. Ibid., p. 278.

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4. The Church is Apostolic. The apostolic nature of the Church does not merely speak of a movement that started with Christ and can reinvent and restructure itself at will. The apostolicity of the church then can be understood as residing in ‘its fidelity to the apostolic faith’.85 McGrath explains that the term ‘apostolicity’ in its fundamental sense means ‘originating with the apostles’ or ‘having a direct link with the apostles’.86 This means that we can understand the apostolicity of the church in regards to the ‘oneness of the present-day church with the original apostolic church. Due to its apostolicity the church remains identical through all places and times.’87 The condition of apostolicity of the Church is found by the Church holding on to the gospel and its doctrine from the testimony of the first apostles and carrying on its preaching of that gospel to the end of the world. John Burkhard further elaborates that the apostolicity of the Church to be found primarily by examining the full life of a church and not by isolating one element at the expense of all other dimensions. The faith preached by the apostles engender communities of prayer, worship, service, and witness – communities that reflected on God’s Word and the teaching of the Lord Jesus, charismatic as well as permanent ministries, the celebration of the Eucharist, the experience of God’s Spirit and living in a way that was open to the Spirit, a lifestyle of discipleship that included acts of justice, forgiveness, penance, and love of neighbor, including one’s enemies. One looks for the contours of the life communication by the risen Lord in apostolic communities.88

Regarding the apostolicity of the ordained ministry, often a divisive theological aspect in the historical understanding of apostolicity, apostolic succession of the bishops should not be seen in the light of a historically unbroken chain of episcopal leaders. Rather, of an apostolic succession that points towards the church as a whole.89 At the heart of the apostolic succession is ‘the notion of relationality’.90 In light of the ecumenical condition of ecclesiality discussed above, apostolic succession then refers not only to the original church that is centred on the apostolic faith, but relationality to all other churches. Burkhard beautifully concludes that apostolicity means that ‘we can come to accept the other churches for the reality of their otherness, an otherness that helps to create our ecclesial identities in genuine

85. Avery Dulles, ‘The Church as “One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic” ’, Evangelical Review of Theology Vol. 23, No. 1 (1999), p. 24. 86. McGrath, Christian Theology, p. 397. 87. Werner Löser, ‘Apostolicity of the Church’, Handbook of Catholic Theology (eds Wolfgang Beinert and Francis Schlüsser Fiorenza; New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1995), pp. 25–6, at 25. 88. John J. Burkhard, Apostolicity Then and Now: An Ecumenical Church in a Postmodern World (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2004), p. 38. 89. Ibid., pp. 38–9. 90. Ibid., p. 248.

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relation with each other. We can begin to loosen our tight grasp on our “churchliness” and accept the other Christian communities as truly “church” as well.’91 In summary, the attributes of the notae internae serve not as criteria to legitimize the status of a church over other churches but as contours for the local church to critically and reflectively engage with them. The four attributes need to be understood not as separate characteristics of the Church but should be seen as dynamic contours influencing each other at every turn.92 As we have discussed the attributes of the notae internae revealing the ecclesiality of the Church, we move now to looking at the notae externae. This contributes further to the ecclesiological framework that provides the investigational lens in examining the indispensable contours in the ecclesial narrative of the FECH. (e) The Intersecting Nature and Mission of the Church The nature and the mission of the Church are closely interconnected, intersecting and influencing each other. The Church by its very nature is mission driven as its identity is formed and nurtured in the mission of the Triune God (missio Dei). Missio Dei is a crucial dialogue partner of ecclesiality, not merely because it discerns the Church’s purpose but because ‘there cannot be church without an intrinsic missionary dimension’.93 Ray Anderson states it this way: ‘Mission precedes and creates the church. Mission is the praxis of God through the power and presence of the Spirit of Christ. As a result of this mission, the church comes into being as the sign of the kingdom of God in the world.’94 ‘It is not the Church that has a mission of salvation to fulfill to the world’, Moltmann argues similarly, but rather ‘it is the mission of the Son and the Spirit through the Father that includes the church, creating a church as it goes on its way.’95 It is the Church’s missionary identity that defines the purpose of the Church in society, as well as the place the Church occupies in society. Some would rightly argue that the characteristics mentioned in this section of the purpose of the Church are actually characteristics of the true Church, the ecclesiality of the Church.96 The Church’s essential nature is not only perceived as, but becomes alive when the Church starts to fully embrace its existing purpose.97 Thus, after examining the ecclesiality of the Church through the notae internae (one, holy, catholic and apostolic) it needs to be examined through the notae 91. Ibid., p. 250. 92. Ibid., p. 41. 93. David Jacobus Bosch, Believing in the Future: Toward a Missiology of Western Culture (Valley Forge, PA: Gracewing, 1995), p. 32. 94. Ray Sherman Anderson, The Shape of Practical Theology: Empowering Ministry with Theological Praxis (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2001), pp. 30–1. 95. Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, p. 64. 96. Bernard Lee and Michael Cowan, Dangerous Memories: House Churches and our American Story (Kansas City, KS: Shee & Ward, 1986), pp. 24–8. 97. Van Engen, God’s Missionary People, p. 88.

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externae, represented in the koinonia, diakonia, kerygma, martyria and leitourgia of the Church. These can be thought of as two sides of the same coin, giving insights into the ecclesiality of the Church that would be missed otherwise. 1. Koinonia. The Greek word, koinonia refers primarily to a ‘close fellowship, relationship, community with God’.98 Jean-Marie Tillard writes that Christians’ koinonia with each other is part of a much deeper koinonia from which it is inseparable. This koinonia is between the Father and his Son Jesus Christ (1 Jn 1:3, 6–7).99 Keshishian points out that the word koinonia is central to New Testament ecclesiology (see Eph. 4:4–6): In the New Testament, koinonia is fundamental to the understanding of the reality of the church. It ties together a number of basic concepts such as life together (Acts 2:44, 47), being of one heart and one spirit (Acts 4:32), holding everything in common (Acts 2:44), mutual sharing, etc. Koinonia refers to the ‘body of Christ’ (1 Cor. 12), ‘being in’ and ‘remaining in’ Christ (Jn 14:20, 23; 1 Jn 3:19–24). [. . .] koinonia means the participation of the people of God in the life of the Triune God as well as communion among the people who constitute the koinonia.100

Tillard mentions that early tradition understood the ecclesiality of the Church as being summed up in communion, koinonia.101 Also, koinonia is not an ecclesial model, ‘but precedes them all’ as it involves the divine life-in-communion that makes the Church exist.102 Koinonia ‘is of the Trinitarian nature and basis, pointing to the quality of our common life in the Triune God and with each other. The life

98. ‘κοινωνία (ν ἔχειν) μετά τινος (have) fellowship w. someone (Job 34:8) w. God 1 J 1:3b; τίς κατόπτου καὶ ξίφους κοινωνία fellowship, (harmonious) unity Ac 2:42; δεξιὰς κοινωνιας διδόναι τινί give someone the right hand of fellowship Gal 2:9; κοινονωνία τ. αἵματος (σώματος) τοῦ χριστοῦ a means for attaining a close relationship with the blood (body) of Christ 1 Cor 10:16ab’. See Walter Bauer, A Greek–English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2001), pp. 552–53. 99. . . . notre s’inscrit dans une koinônia infiniment plus profonde dont elle est inséparable, ’. See Jean-Marie Rene Tillard, ‘Ecclésiologie de communion et exigence ecuménique’, Irénikon 59 (1986), p. 207. 100. Aram Keshishian, ‘Report of the Moderator: Growing Towards a Full Koinonia’, The Ecumenical Review Vol. 44, Issue 4 (1992), p. 492. 101. Jean-Marie Rene Tillard, Church of Churches: The Ecclesiology of Communion (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgeical Press, 1992), p. 29. 102. Tillard, Ecclésiologie de communion et exigence ecuménique, pp.  217–18. See also Christopher James Ruddy, ‘One Church in Many Churches: The Theology of the Local Church in the Writings of Jean-Marie Roger Tillard’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation, O.P., Department of Theology, Graduate School of the University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, IN, 2001), p. 15.

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of the Triune God is the prototype and source of it.’103 Koinonia is a contour of the Church ecclesiality as it expresses the Church communal relationship with each other and Christ as its centre. Also, koinonia emphasizes the importance of living, embracing and sharing with each other while living that love outwardly to one’s neighbours. There should not merely be an inward focus on building a community, as that would lead to defective fellowship; but rather, there needs to be an outward orientation as mission is essential to the very being of the Church as koinonia (1 Jn 1:1–3).104 For the sake of God’s kingdom the koinonia found in the true Church seeks to embrace and integrate others into the life of the church, including those who are far from faith or who may come with different beliefs. 2. Diakonia. The Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (TDNT) summarizes various concepts that directly deal with diakonia, service: δουλεύω, service as a slave, θεραπεύω, willingness for service, λατρεύω, service for wages (in the New Testament primarily religious duties); ὑπηρετέω, service to the master; and διακονέω, very personal service to another.105 The widely accepted view among scholars is that the New Testament uses diakonia as meaning both ‘ “waiting at table” or in a rather wider sense “provision for bodily sustenance” ’ and also ‘any “discharge of service” in genuine love’.106 The TDNT states that diakoneo grew out of the OT command to love one’s neighbour, which Jesus takes in order to link up with the command to love God; these together make up the substance of the divinely willed ethical conduct of His followers.107 Diakonia is central to the ecclesiality of the Church, revealing its identity and mandate as a community of servants. This involves caring and humbly serving each other, leading to an outward diakonia of ‘service to which the whole people of God is called’.108 Diakonia reveals the Church as a caring and humble serving community that seeks to fulfill the tasks commissioned by Christ, such as extending mercy, gifts, help, and healing, and standing for justice, all as service to the Other. Diakonia is not something the Church aims to do; it is central to its

103. Keshishian, Report of the Moderator, p. 492. 104. See WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, p. 14. 105. Van Engen, God’s Missionary People, p. 95. 106. H. W. Beyer, ‘Diakonew, Diakonia, Diakonos’, Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (eds Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1964), p. 81. 107. Ibid., p. 84. 108. World Council of Churches, Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry (1982), available from http://www.oikoumene.org/en/resources/documents/wcc-commissions/faith-and-ordercommission/i-unity-the-church-and-its-mission/baptism-eucharist-and-ministry-faith-andorder-paper-no–111-the-lima-text/baptism-eucharist-and-ministry.html (accessed 17 August 2012), p. 17.

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being as Church, that is, diakonia conditions every part of the body of Christ to be known as ‘a living instrument of Service in the world’.109 3. Kerygma. According to Walter Bauer, kerygma means; (1) an official announcement, proclamation and (2) a public declaration, something proclaimed aloud: proclamation about Jesus Christ, Rom. 16:25 (το κήρυγμα ‘ιησσῦ χριστοῦ); my (gospel) proclamation, 1 Cor. 2:4 (τὸ κήρυγμα μου); teachers of the proclamation about the Son of God, Hs 9, 15:4 (διδάσκαλοι τοῦ κήρυγμα τοῦ υἱ οῦ θεοῦ); the proclamation with which I have been entrusted Tit. 1:3 (κήρυγμα ὃ ἐ πιστεύθην ἐ γώ).110 The Church is tasked to proclaim the truth about God, either orally or through a written narrative. This proclamation of the lordship of Jesus of Nazareth is being embodied in the Church itself. The Church is a kerygmatic fellowship with an imperative given from God to proclaim the good news found in the Lord Jesus Christ.111 The kerygma is given from God to the Church. In essence then, the Church is a kerygmatic community112 that publicly proclaims by oral and written communication of the death, resurrection and exaltation of Jesus Christ.113 4. Martyria. Martyria, according to Bauer’s Lexicon means: (1) confirmation or attestation on the basis of personal knowledge; (2) testimony in court; (3) attestation of character or behaviour; and (4) testimony that invited death.114 Within the scope of these meanings, Van Engen notes, the purpose of the Church ‘is to make the fact that Jesus Christ is present in the world tangible, real, visible and effective’.115 This fourth characteristic of the Church represents the mandate that was given by Jesus, as for example observed in Acts 1:8, ‘you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth’. The nature of the Church then expresses a ‘loving koinonia fellowship, a communal life, a kerygmatic proclamation that Jesus is Lord, a sharing with those in need through a loving diaconal ministry all brought about marturia a powerful witness to the Church’s missionary nature’.116 Martyria is the Church giving itself fully to the witness of the good news of the salvation and transformation of the world. Scripture and tradition reveal martyria

109. John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), p. 13. 110. Bauer, A Greek–English Lexicon, p. 543. 111. See Johannes C. Hoekendijk, ‘The Call to Evangelism’, International Review of Missions no. 39 (1950), p. 171. 112. McGrath, Christian Theology, p. 11. 113. Van Engen, God’s Missionary People, p. 93. 114. Bauer, A Greek–English Lexicon, pp. 618–19. 115. Van Engen, God’s Missionary People, p. 97. 116. Ibid.

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as a pervasive theme of the Church seeking to be a witness in participation with, or in imitation of Christ. Martyria discloses obedience to Christ, himself a suffering saviour, which provides the model for the Church of endurance in the face of perceived hostility and aggression. Martyria reveals a Church being driven to be a witness to the world, in imitation of Christ, even when this means witnessing in obedience to death (Phil. 2:8). 5. Leitourgia. In the classical Greek usage, leitourgia reflects a public ritualistic performance, including the following for New Testament audiences: (1) ‘service of a formal or public type – πρὸς τὰς λιτουργεíας καì θυσεíας τῶν sacrificial service, Phil. 2:17; and (2) service of a personal nature – ἳ να ἀναπληώῃ τὸ ὑμῶν ὑστέρημα τῆς προς με λειτουργίας – in order that he might supply what was lacking in your service to me, Phil. 2:30’.117 Leitourgia reflects a ‘public’ event, especially as the rootword leitos has connotations of ‘community,’ and classical usage provides evidence for a strong concern with the body politic.118 In the Septuagint these terms are used to refer both to the act of public worship (sacrifice) and public service.119 Latreia and leitourgia are two Greek terms which appear frequently in the New Testament and which have a prominent place in the Septuagint. They are virtually synonymous and reflect the merging of the concepts of worship and service in the light of the Gospel.120 Leitourgia, depicts a Church that in public service renders worship to God.121 (f) The Place of the Church: ubi Christus, ibi Ecclesia For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them. (Mt. 18:20) The passage above depicts the Church as a place where people gather. However, the focus of this Scripture is not on gathering together but in the people gathering together in my name. Gathering together in the name of Jesus Christ gives the central condition of a true ecclesiality. Bishop in Ignatius of Antioch in commenting on Mt. 18:20 concluded that: ‘Wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the universal church’ (ὅπου ἄν ᾖ ‘ιησοῦς χριστος, ἐκεῖ ἡ χαθολιχὴ ἐκκλησία).122 Tertullian of 117. Bauer, A Greek–English Lexicon, p. 591. 118. H. Strathmann, ‘leitourgéõ, leitourgia’, Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (eds Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1964), pp. 526–7. 119. F. M. DuBose, God Who Sends: Fresh Quest for Biblical Mission (Nashville, TN: Broadman Press, 1983), pp. 110–11. 120. Herbert M. Carson, Hallelujah! Christian Worship (Welwyn Garden City, England: Evangelical Press, 1980), p. 11. 121. J. J. Kritzinger, W. A. Saayman and Piet Meiring, On Being Witnesses (Johannesburg: Orion Publisher, 1994), p. 38. 122. Ignatius, Smyrn. 8:2.

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Carthage famously stated: ‘Where Christ is, there is the church’ (ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia). Volf developed this: ‘Where two or three are gathered in Christ’s name, not only is Christ present among them, but a Christian church is there as well, perhaps a bad church, a church that may well transgress against love and truth, but a church nonetheless.’123 The proposition ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia is the guiding ecclesiological principle for understanding what it means to gather in the name of Jesus Christ, the happening of Christ’s presence in the Church.124 For Yves Congar, ‘[o]ur life in Christ – or his life in us – is ecclesial’.125 I would propose to expand on this with Paul’s statement: ‘no one can say, “Jesus is Lord”, except by the Holy Spirit’ (1 Cor. 12:3). This implies a confession of faith by the people gathered in Christ’s name. Volf identifies two conditions that are central for those who gather in the name of Christ. First is the condition of faith for those that are gathered. Faith in Jesus Christ as Saviour is central, as without faith there is no church. Second, the gathering is associated with the name of Christ as an expression of their commitment ‘to allow their lives to be determined by Jesus Christ’.126 As two or three are gathered in the name of Jesus Christ, they gather around the person of Jesus Christ. Volf writes: Here we are dealing with the name of Immanuel, God with us (see Mt. 1:23). According to Matthew’s intention, the name Immanuel expresses the unity of the earthly proclaimed Jesus with the resurrected and proclaimed Christ; he who at birth received the name ‘God with us’ will as the resurrected one remain with his disciples until the need of the world are met (Mt. 29:10). The church manifests itself as church insofar as it understands itself as defined by the entire history of Jesus Christ, by its past, present, and future. Expressed in Pauline terminology, the church is the church of Jesus Christ (Rom. 16:16; cf. Gal. 1:22; 1 Thess. 2:14), or it is into not a church at all. [. . .] The church is the church only if it is built on the Jesus Christ attested by the apostolic writings, which is why Luke reports that the Jerusalem church ‘held fast to the apostles’ teaching’ (Acts 2:42).127

The ecclesiological proposition ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia that we discern as being central to ecclesiality is not the same as the ubi ecclesia, ibi Christus (Where the Church is, there is Christ). To move away from the ubi ecclesia, ibi Christus during the Protestant Reformation time, the notae ecclesia was emphasized as the right preaching of the Word (doctrine) and faithful administration of the sacraments (baptism and the Lord’s Supper) to ensure Christ’s presence in

123. See Volf, After Our Likeness, p. 136. 124. Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, p. 122. 125. Yves Congar, I Believe in the Holy Spirit (Milestones in Catholic Theology, 1–3 vols; New York: Crossroad Pub. Co, 1997), p. 30. 126. Volf, After Our Likeness, p. 147. 127. Ibid., p. 46, italics in original.

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their midst.128 People may gather, participate in an institutional hierarchy, engage in sacraments, listen to preaching and yet, Christ may be absent from their midst. This makes the cognitive identification of Jesus Christ crucial and leaves the characteristics of ecclesiality not only as matters of faith but also matters of testing. For example, the FECH are very exposed to a cultic teaching that has a strong influence here in Davao. The Pastor has claimed divine status, being Jesus for the Gentiles, while the historical Christ is the saviour of the Jews. This sounds banal to outsiders, but this cult is growing quite rapidly, not only having a strong local influence but also greatly strengthening its international presence. They claim that they preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and are building the Kingdom of God. If one enters their church, it may take some time to realize their cultic teachings and practices, as they have adapted various Christian expressions, such as worship songs and service structure. Only if one listens carefully, do things start to become clear. They gather publicly in the name of Christ, confess him and worship him, but it is doubtful that Christ’s presence is mediated in their midst because of their mistaken cognitive identification of Jesus Christ. This leads us to the key question, if the Church only exists where Christ’s presence is – ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia, then; ‘where is then Christ present?’ As ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia is central to ecclesiality, this raises the question of what assurance does Scripture give about his presence. Jürgen Moltmann notes that Christ is present whenever he gives assurance of his presence. He argues that ‘we must distinguish between the promise of his presence in some other than himself, and the promise of his presence through himself, between the identifications according to which he is to be expected in something else, and his own identity, according to which he himself is to be expected’.129 Moltmann identifies three areas of assurance in the New Testament that talk about the promise of Christ’s presence. These are: ‘(1) By virtue of his identifying assurance, Christ’ promise of his presence to the Church is in the medium of the proclamation through word and sacrament as well as the fellowship of the brethren; (2) By virtue of his identifying assurance, Christ’s presence is among the poor (Mt. 25:31–46); (3) By virtue of his assurance, Christ’s is present as his own self in his parousia – Christ second coming.’130 I conclude by returning to the previous argument of the ecumenical condition of the ‘ecclesial fruitfulness’ when it comes to the ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia. Church institutions can easily be preoccupied with the proper procedure for ensuring, for example, the ‘reformer notae’, so that the ‘ecclesial vitality’ gets lost. However, ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia speaks of people gathering around Jesus Christ, the God who in his salvific gift has broken down exclusive barriers and calls his creation back to himself, an open invitation to all humankind. His presence is embodied in the life

128. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (trans. John T. McNeill, 2 vols; Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, original edition 1960, 2000), 4.1.9. 129. Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, pp. 122–3. 130. Ibid., p. 123, see also pp. 124–32.

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of the Church, which is shaped by the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22) in and for their community and as a witness to others.

II. Criteria Towards Ecclesiality in a Local Ecclesiology [I]f we listed all their most valid claims on the Church we should find that they amount to this: that she be less ‘of ’ the world and more ‘in’ the world; that she is simply the Church of Jesus Christ, the conscience of [hu]men in the light of the Gospel.131 The inquiry of this chapter into the ecclesiality of the Church included identifying and delineating ecclesial contours that throughout history keep emerging, including the images of the Church, the eschatological reality of the Church, ecclesial fruitfulness, the notae ecclesia (internae and externae) and the ecclesiological proposition ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia. These ecclesial contours describe the identity, mission and place of the Church. It has been noted that these ecclesial contours are not merely there to legitimate a new form of Church over others, but to provide guideposts for the Church’s critical self-reflection so as ‘to understand that what she IS is also what she must become’.132 The conditions of ecclesiality discussed in this chapter are nothing more than the ecclesial reality when its members are coming alive and fulfilling, which is their purpose of being. The aim of this discourse on the ecclesiality of the Church is to explore questions that every Church should look at as they seek to witness to Christ’s reality. This demonstrates both the mystery of faith and empirical reality of the Church. The result of looking at various dimensions of the ecclesiality of the Church is not an absolute definition but a challenge that every generation needs to re-use these Biblical images, re-interpret the notae ecclesia, and re-read Scripture because ‘the church has tried to learn what the church truly is, so that it could become what it is not’.133 As the notae give space for re-reading the Church’s ‘social and political Sitz im Leben’, so the Church can be connected to the traditional development of these notae. The local ecclesiological framework describes ideal ecclesial contours that may be examined in the concrete ecclesial narratives of churches. This is an attempt to incorporate the ideal seen in the religious symbols that constitute the Church and the explicit contours of the Church’s self-understanding and praxis. The empirical reality reveals the Church’s place, looking at it from the human and historical dimensions. A church can be empirically investigated (static, demographic, sociological, psychological, and so forth) or historically examined.134 131. Yves Congar, Power and Poverty in the Church (Baltimore, MD: Helicon, 1964), p. 137. 132. Van Engen, The Growth of the True Church, p. 55. 133. Minear, Images of the Church, p. 25. 134. Andrzej Napiórkowski, Gott-menschliche Gemeinschaft: Katholische Integrale Ekklesiologie (Frankfurt, M. [u.a.]: Lang, 2011), p. 45.

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Therefore, as the notae ecclesia are ecclesial contours that reveal the true Church, the next chapters will examine the contours of Church as they emerge among the FECH. Special focus is given to the FECH’s ecclesiological narrative and reinterpretation of these delineating facets. For example, with our discussion on the notae internae, The Church is One, and as the FECH are in unity with Christ, ‘How then is that unity expressed by the FECH?’ Holy is Christ’s Church, and as the FECH are holy (not based on their decision or commitment, but their holiness is given by God as sign), ‘How is holiness demonstrated in the FECH?’ Or, looking at the notae externae: The Church is an expression of koinonia; ‘How do the FECH experience koinonia?’ The Church is called to be a community of diakonia; ‘How is service rendered within and through the FECH?’ Or along the line of ‘ecclesial fruitfulness’, are any transformative changes evident within and through the FECH’s members? Are they characterized by an unselfish love for God and their neighbours? This theological framework of the indispensable ecclesial contours brings the locality of the Church in dialogue with the ecclesiality of the Church, aiming to understand how the ecclesiality is embodied in the locality of the Church. Ideal ecclesiology describes the biblical and traditional/historical indispensable ecclesial contours (markers) while local or empirical ecclesiology describes the embodiment of these indispensable ecclesial contours. In this study, we will see in particular how the familia Dei as an image of Church emerges among the FECH. The contextual focus then is on the assessment of how the epistemological factors shape the FECH’s development of their ecclesiological narrative. In other words: a re-reading of the notae ecclesia, if understood correctly, illuminates the embodiment of the ecclesiality of the Church (in this case the FECH) in their ecclesial identity, mission and place in society. Prior to examining the ideal ecclesiology in the locality of the FECH’s narrative, the next chapter describes the empirical world and societal context of their ecclesiology.

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Chapter 4 T OWA R D S NA M I N G T H E C O N T E X T

People live in complex social environments, with no two contexts ever entirely the same. Underlying cultural themes with their mechanics shape each social reality. As Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann note, the social order we live in is a social human product, or more precisely, it is an ongoing human production.1 Hence, our knowledge of what we perceive to know is ‘shaped by innate commitments to higher frames of knowledge that we rarely interrogate’.2 Berger states that the ‘primary knowledge about the institution order is knowledge’, which ‘is the sum total of “what everybody knows” about a social world, an assemblage of maxims, morals, proverbial nuggets of wisdom, values and beliefs, myths, and so forth’.3 Our ‘knowledge’ about our social world is related to the primary knowledge of social and structural forms in our society. To be able to identify and describe any ecclesiology entails examining its societal context. As people are part of their society, so are churches. Kathryn Tanner argues that from an empirical perspective it is difficult to maintain the notion of the church being an alternative social world.4 Besides being the mystery of God the church is also a social institution, located in the midst of a societal context, with all the various social, economical, political and cultural forces in that setting. The interesting question, then, is not whether the context influences the church or not, but rather, as Paul Fiddes notes, ‘how the church absorbs influences from other cultures, and how it employs them’.5 This does not mean the church just

1. Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge (London: Penguin Press, 1967), p. 52. 2. Martyn Percy, The Ecclesial Canopy: Faith, Hope, and Charity, Explorations in Practical, Pastoral, and Empirical Theology (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2012), p. 3. 3. Berger and Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality, p. 65. 4. Kathryn Tanner, Theories of Culture: A New Agenda for Theology (Guides to Theological Inquiry, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997), pp. 97–102. 5. Paul Fiddes, ‘Ecclesiology and Ethnography: Two Disciplines, Two Worlds?’, Perspectives on Ecclesiology and Ethnography (ed. Pete Ward; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), p. 16, italics in original.

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absorbs its environment, becomes uncritical and basically adapts to its cultural context. There is a prophetic and transformative call upon the church to speak truth to its socio-cultural context. As the church attends to its cultural context, it seeks to participate in God’s redemptive task. Nancy Ammerman has argued that a church is never a closed system, but it is an ‘open system’ interacting within a congregation and between congregations, as well as with the broader society of which it is a part.6 Marshall McLuhan and Quinton Fiore write about the importance of contexts: ‘Environments are not passive wrappings, but rather, active processes which are invisible. The ground rules, pervasive structure, and over-all patterns of environments elude easy perception.’7 On the other hand, Ammerman points out that the church also ‘can affect its environment as the congregation engages in outreach activity, for instance, but it is also itself shaped by the people and resources and other institution in that environment’.8 As the church is called into a prophetic role, it is crucial to provide a description of the situation of the ‘Sitz im Leben’ of the church. Ammerman writes that ‘description of the environment is not something extrinsic to the theological process, but is deeply part of it’.9 It is within this understanding of its situation that the Church can be heard to speak truth. For the Church to be able to truly move into this role, we need to understand the situation as ‘the way various items, powers, and events in the environment gather to evoke responses from participants’.10 Anyone doing empirical research in any community is faced with various multifaceted entities which are often complex, but crucial in understanding a communal identity and its social reality. There are many empirical studies of church planting around the globe focusing on residential communities, illegal settlers and poor communities. However, as noted earlier, the focus of this study on an ecclesial-oriented paradigm for homeless populations requires empirical research on forms of social collectivity for a homeless population. In this chapter, I identify the external and internal factors that influence and shape the identity of the FECH. The aim is to identify the ontology of the social facts, structure and inter-connectedness of the research community. Some of the issues, social factors and particular codes of conduct are contrary to those of the neighbouring Filipino residential communities, including illegal settlers and poor communities. In this chapter I seek to give a sketch of the context and the social world of the FECH based on the findings of the qualitative methodology outlined above (see 6. Nancy Tatom Ammerman, Studying Congregations: A New Handbook (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1998), p. 14. 7. Marshall McLuhan and Quentin Fiore, The Medium is the Massage (Corte Madera, CA: Gingko, 2001), p. 68. 8. Ammerman, Studying Congregations, p. 14. 9. Ibid., p. 26. 10. Edward Farley, Practicing Gospel: Unconventional Thoughts on the Church’s Ministry (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003), p. 38.

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Chapter 2). It is a ‘sketch’ of the FECH’s story, as the social world we live in is always ‘a world in becoming, not a world in being’.11 Therein, the following description is not comprehensive; rather, its purpose is to give an overview of the characteristics of the context in which ekklêsia takes place. As in any urban context, the FECH live in a diverse, complex and fragmented world. It is within this context that they have formed a communal identity. James Hopewell observes that ‘a group of people cannot regularly gather for what they feel to be religious purposes without developing a complex network of signals and symbols and conventions – in short, a subculture – that gains its own logic and then functions in a way peculiar to that group’.12 To describe their communal identity, or to use Hopewell’s word, ‘subculture,’ the focus here lies not merely on describing the FECH, but includes the wider community (FCH) in that particular park. My focus is on how these people understand themselves and how they relate to or communicate with the wider community and also how outside factors shape their community. While there are undoubtedly more elements relevant to the FCH communal identity, this chapter will focus on providing a spatial location tour that addresses: (1) local culture and history; (2) kinship and social order; (3) relation to other social institutions; (4) the community’s social and physical context; (5) and members’ social worlds.

I. Colonial Historical Ethnography of the Philippines – A History of Struggle On March 16, 1521, the Philippines was ‘discovered’ by Ferdinand Magallanes, so many noted historians say. Discovered? From whose perspective? From whose point of view? Is it not from the conquerors of the Filipino people? Is it not that history has often been written from the point of view of the conquerors and the winners, and hardly, if ever, from the point of view of the losers and the victims?13

For Filipino historian Renator Constanino, the great misfortune for the Filipinos was being ‘liberated’ a number of times during their history.14 As this ‘liberation’

11. Victor W. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors: Symbolic Action in Human Society (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1974), p. 24. 12. James F. Hopewell, Congregation: Stories and Structures (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1987), p. 5. 13. Eleazar S. Fernandez, Toward a Theology of Struggle (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 6. 14. For the precolonial Philippine situation, see Vicente L. Rafael, Contracting Colonialism: Translation and Christian Conversion in Tagalog Society Under Early Spanish Rule (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1988).

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came with a colonial mindset that regarded the Filipinos as ‘natives,’ ‘primitive’ and therefore ‘inferior’ who are in need of civilizing tutelage, just as the American settlers had previously viewed the native Americans.15 This is well seen in Gen. J. Rusling’s interview with President McKinley, When next I realized that the Philippines had dropped into our hands, I confess I did not know what to do with them. [. . .] I went down on my knees and prayed Almighty God for light and guidance more than one night. And one late night it came to me this way – I don’t know how it was, but it came: [. . .] that we could not leave them (Filipinos) to themselves – they were unfit for self-government – and they would soon have anarchy and misrule over there worse than Spain’s was; and that there was nothing left for us to do but to take them all, and to educate the Filipinos, and uplift and civilize and Christianize them, and by God’s grace do the very best we could by them, as our fellowmen for whom Christ also died.16

What the Spaniards did in their colonial period with Catholicism, the Americans did with Protestantism, following American President William McKinley’s benevolent description of America’s aim in the Philippines to civilize the Filipinos and Christianize them.17 The Spanish came to free them from the ‘devil, while the American liberated them from the Spanish oppression, the Japanese from American imperialism, and the return of the Americans freed them from the Japanese fascists. Now, the independent Filipinos are still forced to struggle as neo-colonialism endures.’18 For Renator Constantino, ‘the only way a history of the Philippines can be Filipino is to write on the basis of the struggles of the people, for in these struggles the Filipino emerged. . . . Filipino resistance to colonial oppression is the unifying thread of Pilipino history.’19 Joerg Rieger explains that while colonialism is formally over in that the political relationships of the colonizers directly governing the colonies has ended, nevertheless, relationships of power and dominance in the economic, cultural, religious and intellectual structures, often continue below

15. Renator Constantino, The Philippines: A Past Revisited (Manila, Philippines: Renator Constantino, 1975), p. 15. 16. Taken from Gen. J. Rusling’s ‘Interview with President McKinley’, The Christian Advocate, 78.22 (January 1903), pp.  137–8. Quoted in Ferdinand Anno, ‘Indigenous Theology: Sources and Resources Perspectives from the Philippines’, The Ecumenical Review Vol. 62, No 4 (2010), p. 372. 17. For an overview of Christianity in the Philippines, including an analysis of the Spanish and Protestant missionary strategy, see Jose Mario C. Francisco, ‘The Philippines’, Christianities in Asia (ed. Peter C. Phan; Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011). 18. Constantino, The Philippines, p. 15. 19. Ibid., pp. 10–11.

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the surface.20 The description of the FECH’s communal identity and cultural themes in their context will show how this threat of the neo-colonial cultural bias and prejudice still runs deep beneath the daily lives of Filipinos. Filipinos have a hybrid identity with a ‘colonized consciousness’ shaped by having to submit to colonial power for some four centuries. The postcolonial context is generally illustrated by ‘in-between spaces’ that do not lend themselves to binary opposition. Postcolonial identity can be recognized by its hybridized identity. Bill Aschroft explains that ‘hybridity occurs in post-colonial societies both as a result of conscious moments of cultural suppression, as when the colonial power invades to consolidate political and economic control, or when settlerinvaders dispossess indigenous people and force them to “assimilate” to new social patterns’.21 Homi Bhabha explains cultural hybridity is where ‘the negotiation of contradictory and antagonistic instances that open up hybrid sites and objectives of struggle, and destroy those negative polarities between knowledge and its objects, and between theory and practical-political reason’.22 This ‘in-between spaces’, or what Bhabha refers to as ‘Third Space,’ is ‘the “inter” – the cutting edge of translation and negotiation, the in-between space – that carries the burden of the meaning of culture’.23 Colonialism nurtures an intermingling of people and culture, resulting in a hybridized identity that nurtures ‘formation of hyphenated, fractured, multiple, and multiplying identities’.24 As hybridity is the product of colonialism, colonial ‘authority is subverted into a space of marginalization intervention. Hybridity lifts the fluid nature of identity. The colonial subjects and the colonial authority are shrouded in ambiguity.’25 Filipino José M. de Mesa points out that colonization in the Philippines was marked by ‘horrendous suffering . . . to the natives’26 and Eleazar Fernandez adds:

20. Joerg Rieger,‘Liberating God-Talk: Postcolonialism and the Challenge of the Margins’, Postcolonial Theologies: Divinity and Empire (eds Catherine Keller, Michael Nausner and Mayra Rivera; Missouri: Chalice Press, 2004), pp. 205–6. 21. Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths and Helen Tiffin, The Post-Colonial Studies Reader (London: Routledge, 1995), p. 183. 22. Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London and New York: Routledge, 1994), p. 22. 23. Ibid., p. 37. 24. R. S. Sugirtharajah, Asian Biblical Hermeneutics and Postcolonialism: Contesting the Interpretations (The Bible & Liberation Series, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1998), p. 16. 25. Catherine Keller, Michael Nausner and Mayra Rivera, Postcolonial Theologies: Divinity and Empire (St. Louis, MO: Chalice Press, 2004), p. 61. 26. Joe M. De Mesa, ‘Attending to the Cultural in Contemporary Filipino Theologizing’, in Liberation Theologies on Shifting Grounds (ed. G. De Schrijver; Leuven, Belguim: Leuven University Press, 1998), p. 201.

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Urban Ecclesiology After the Philippines was granted independence by the United States (July 4, 1946), the struggle continued, for U.S. interests continued to dominate the country, but with a new face (neocolonialism in a full-blown capitalist system). Filipino struggle, especially the progressive and radical groups, continued to attack the so-called three evils: feudalism, imperialism and bureaucratic capitalism.27

Christianity came with the colonizers and Christian missionaries failed to appreciate Filipinos culture. As a consequence, Filipinos developed an inferior self-perception.28 For example, Ed Lapiz points out that Western Christianity failed to appreciate the indigenous Filipino art forms, which often resulted in their destruction. Lapiz explains that this leaves a vacuum that is usually filled by imported cultural forms, subsequently creating a cultural disorientation and a feeling of inferiority to other cultures.29 He points out how colonization has greatly contributed in the loss of self and loss of indigenous Filipino culture, particularly in the Church.30 Concerning this construct of a colonial mentality, Freire argues that the colonial process ‘begins with a dehumanizing cultural invasion. First, the invader deprives the invaded of her freedom, then he inscribes himself on the victim, whom he regards as no more than part of the environment. Cut off from her cultural memories, yet not entirely deracinated, the victim becomes detribalized or inauthentic.’31 Melba Maggay writes, ‘Perhaps we are sick as a nation because we have lost our soul, we have forgotten who we are and have lost our way by listening too much to voices from the outside. We define ourselves by what they tell us.’32 However, more recently Melba Maggay, Rodrigo Tano, José de Mesa, Ed Lapiz and many other Filipino theologians, anthropologists, and other socially aware authors are in the process of finding their soul, articulating what it means to be a Filipino people. This research is motivated by a desire to listen closely to one particular ecclesial community in order to understand a little more of what it means to be a Filipino church that is born in the midst of the Filipino struggle to be Filipino.

27. Fernandez, Toward a Theology of Struggle, p. 11. 28. See José M. De Mesa, ‘Tasks in the Inculturation of Theology: The Filipino Catholic Situation’, Missiology Vol. 26, No. 2 (1998), pp. 193–5. 29. Ed Lapiz, Paano Maging Pilipinorg Kristiano: Becoming Filipino Christian (Makati City, Philippines: Kaloob, 1997), p. 112. 30. Ed Lapiz, ‘Pagbabalik sa Sarili: Pagsambang Likas at Hiyang sa Filipino / Return to Self: Doing Worship in an Indigenous, Filipino Context’, Doing Theology in the Philippines (Quezon City: OMF Literature Inc. and Asian Theological Seminary, 2005), p. 177. 31. Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed (New York: Continuum, original edition 1970, 1990), p. 50, italics in original. 32. Melba Padilla Maggay, ‘Towards Contextualization from Within: Some Tools and Culture Themes’, Doing Theology in the Philippines (Quezon City: OMF Literature Inc. and Asian Theological Seminary, 2005), pp. 49–50.

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II. Arriving in Davao: A Tale of a Two-sided City Based on the insider/outsider role I identified above, instead of an ‘objective’ and distant empirical description of the context and community, I will now be using more of a personal tale of the Philippines and the research community – an approach often chosen by anthropologists writing an ethnography. As if it were yesterday, I remember the first time I arrived in Davao City33 in the southern part of the Philippines, in 1998. When the aeroplane door opened and I stepped out to walk down the stairs, a heat wave overwhelmed me. The architecture of the terminal building reflected the unique Muslim culture and historical differences of the island of Mindanao; it is unlike anything found in other regions of the Philippines. After a short walk I got to the small arrival hall, the garage-like door opened, a pull cart with our luggage arrived and dumped the luggage in front of us. All my senses were triggered by the unfamiliar, everything was fascinating, and my curiosity sparked an adventurous feeling. As we rode in a jeepney (transformed from a Second World War American military jeep) heading downtown, I was faced with images of abundant colour, the tropical environment, poverty and a mass of people all looking quite alike to me, crying out ‘Hey, Joe!’ (referring to Americans since the Second World War, short for GI Joe). Why would everybody call me Joe? ‘Amerikano!’ I am not American. Apparently, those are their terms for all white foreigners. After explaining to no avail that I am not an American and my name is not Joe, I succumbed to accepting the Filipino view of white people; Switzerland is somehow part of America and my new name is Joe. Being asked countless times if my companion, also a white foreigner, was my brother or sister, although we didn’t look alike, gave me a glimpse of my initial prejudice. Walking down the streets people greeted me with a smile; in a few instances, mothers asked if I wanted to marry their daughter or sometimes people gazed as if I was a famous Hollywood star, or they merely wanted to touch my skin. Culture reversed my standing within society; back home, I was just another face in the crowd, but all of a sudden, on the streets of Davao City, I became somebody, though most of the time an American or a Joe or a CIA agent. Paradoxically, my ‘Otherness’ revealed the underlying colonial mindset of a perspective that uplifted my social status. At the same time, being in the spotlight burst again and again into my private sphere, despite my preference to be left alone. I had arrived in the ‘Land of Promise’.34 A land many immigrants came to, just a few decades ago, to escape poverty and find prosperity. In fact, having lived in

33. According to the National Statistics Office, in 2010, Davao’s population was 1,449,296. 34. ‘In the early fifties, settlers from Luzon and the Visayas were encouraged by the government to immigrate to the so-called “Land of Promise”. Driven by harsh realities of life as share tenants of abusive and exploitative landlords, they joined the adventurous pioneers and braved the forbidding virgin forests and the deadly malaria just to be able to stake their claim over the land they could call their own.’ See Victorino D. Fontanilla, Sultan Kudarat in 24 Years (Isulan, SK: Provincial Government of Sultan Kudarat, 1998), p. 32.

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Davao since 1998, I have witnessed a time of immensely prosperous development. A new international airport was built on a large garbage dump and seven new malls (fully air-conditioned with entertainment centre, shopping, restaurants, and lots of hang-out space). Concrete boulevards with traffic lights on cross-sections have replaced the dirt roads of earlier days. In addition heavy traffic has been added with big American cars and much stricter traffic rules. Land prices have tripled along with salaries. It seems that since 1998 there has been a more obvious growth of economical prosperity in Davao City than in my Swiss hometown.35 On the other hand, even though the whole city is experiencing socio-economic uplift, in reality, this uplift is not experienced by everybody on the margins. The system in place is often still what Ron May calls ‘the Wild West in the South’,36 that is marked by injustice for the poor, murders and manipulation of political elections. It is a war on the poor waged by a few rich families and companies, the ‘absorption of peripheral regions by an expanding capitalism’.37 This led Ed de Jesus to ask, ‘Who makes what laws for whom and to what purpose?’38 Just within walking distance of my house, a big, newly fenced lot bears a graffiti sign that reads, ‘this land was stolen from the poor’. Sometimes the poor are not quick enough to perceive threats, or educated in legal matters, so that the rich trick them and grab their land. Some of the FECH members have come to the city because their land in the rural area was taken from them. One family rented a small space beside the park for years, only to discover that the ‘land owner’, who was collecting their rent and wanted to evict them to build something bigger, does not even own the land. Known to all Davao citizens, extra-judicial murders by tolerated vigilantes called the Davao Death Squad (DDS) are generally believed to be state sponsored vigilantes. I have lost a few friends on the streets who were killed by the DDS (which often comprises of poor people who need the money and so are hired to kill other poor). For Davao citizens, death is the price to pay for the peace, order and prosperity of their beloved city, ruled for years by an iron-fisted mayor (known

35. Based on the City Mayors Foundation published on its website at www.citymayors. com, Davao City has a projected average annual growth of 2.53 percent during the 15-year period making it the only Philippines city included in the Top 100 of fastest-growing cities and urban areas in the world; Davao City is placed 87th in the list. See Jereco O. Paloma, Davao is World’s 87th Top City (Sunstar 2011), available from http://www.sunstar.com.ph/ davao/local-news/2011/11/10/davao-worlds–87th-top-city–189867. (accessed 11 October 2012). 36. Mark Turner, Ronald James May and Lulu Turner, Mindanao: Land of Unfulfilled Promise (Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 1992), pp. 125–45. 37. David Cleary, ‘After the Frontier: Problems with Political Economy in the Modern Brazilian Amazon’, Journal of Latin American Studies no. 25 (1993), p. 331. 38. B. R. Rodil, ‘Ancestral Domain: A Central Issue in the Lumad Struggle for SelfDetermination in Mindanao’, Mindanao: Land of Unfulfilled Promise (eds Mark Turner, Ronald James May and Lulu Turner; Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 1992), p. 234.

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as ‘The punisher’) and his children.39 Persistent violent social conflict, extrajudicial killings, land grabbing and corruption is an inescapable reality in Davao City. Most people who walk through the parks today in Davao City are not able to identify who is a visitor and who is a resident in the park. In one park where the FCH live they have learned that if they want to continue living in this area, they need to blend in. ‘Is she part of the Community?’ ‘No, she is not.’ ‘How about that person?’ ‘No, but this person has been living here for many years,’ is an example of the kind of dialogue that you will hear with the ‘newbie’ as I bring them to the streets. But as dusk sets in, individuals and families emerge to prepare their place for the night. And, before the sun shines her rays on the FCH, many have cleaned up their places and mingled back into the early crowds who head for work. As you get to know the FCH, you will recognize more and more faces and hear some unique stories of how they got there. It usually takes a few weeks for our new coworkers to really see who is who in the community. Many have large families living there and the new coworkers often ask, ‘I am confused, whose kid is that again?’ There is even one family of four generations, from the newborn (every year mothers give birth in the park) to the great-grandparents. If you ask others about the composition of their families in the FCH, they will identify, mother-in-law, aunties, second husband, sisters, or friends. It is also surprising to outsiders that many of them have been living this way for years. Many FCH families have been in the park for two decades and more. In fact, many of the kids and teenagers have lived there all their lives. They have not experienced what it is to have their own house, a place they can come home to for shelter and protection. The park is their home and sometimes they start to joke about it. ‘Can you see my big living room? Oh, and over there in the corner of the park, that’s the kitchen. And we’ve got a really big bedroom, right here in the middle of the park.’ We all laugh together, but the reality sometimes seems overwhelming. Actually, such joking is often a way of coping with reality. It bridges the gap between aspiration and reality. Even though many of the jokes are addressed to me as an outsider, people make them all the time among themselves.40

39. I do not want to put the former mayor and his children in an entirely negative light, as I have seen them working really hard for the peace and order of the city. It definitely is a better place for the majority of its citizens, including me, as a foreigner, because of their great efforts. What I want to question is some of their methods, which is often ‘the Wild West’ that could have been dealt with differently. Also, it is the poor who often experience the consequences of their methods, as the rich often find ways to evade the consequences and benefit from the system. 40. Anthropologist Fenella Cannell also observed this reality in Bicol where people made jokes about typhoon damage to their houses having ‘air-conditioning,’ muddy feet from the paddy-field guarentee their ‘manicure,’ or worn flip-flops and housedresses as ‘my dancing clothes’, and so on. See Fenella Cannell, Power and Intimacy in the Christian Philippines (Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1999), p. 21.

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The diversity of the community becomes even more apparent if you ask them where they are from. Some grew up in various parts of Luzon, some in the Visayas and many others represent different areas of Mindanao. As the Philippines has over 7,100 islands, a variety of cultures and languages are represented in the FCH. Those who participated in the semi-structured interviews had Bagobo, Manobo, Bisaya/Cebuano, Ilocano and Tagalog as their mother tongue. Such a culture and language mix creates a lively and unique community. They describe their community as being ‘like one big family. Sometimes we understand and agree with each other, sometimes we don’t’ (I–19) (see Appendix A). One participant described the community as being ‘like neighbors’ (I–14), except, there are no walls and doors between each other! Another homeless father portrays the FCH as the ‘house of the rising sun’ as ‘you see the sun shining on the park as it rises’ (I–14). The younger generation on the other hand, sees it as a brotherhood, others describe it as a ‘community of fun’ (I–18). There is always something happening in the community that provides entertainment. Some mothers told us that their kids do not need any television. All the drama in life can be viewed right there in the park. From experience, there are a lot of fun things to do with the community, but of course there is also a lot of drama of life that is being played out right there in the community. It sometimes becomes quite difficult to watch as an outsider, especially when children are involved. One only has to imagine all the fights and disagreements among family and friends in a private home being extended to view publicly by everyone around. Instead of being able to close the door as you work things out with a spouse or children, it happens right there, in the middle of the park. As families, youths and children try to cope with reality, more than just words sometimes fly through the air. A community is always influenced by its environment. The lack of amenities, such as electricity, water and toilets, of course, greatly adds to the difficulties of living in the park. There is only one public toilet where one can go to fetch water for free and the children are often the ones carrying heavy containers of water for the daily use of their families. Having only limited access to water of course also makes it difficult to maintain hygiene. Furthermore, the children are not allowed to use the toilet by themselves and an adult is not always around, so the park and streets become the toilet for most children and sometimes for adults as well. Negative impacts in a community are often best observed among the least and weakest of the community members. The children struggle most and often encounter great difficulties as they strive for survival. Environmental factors have a major influence, especially on children’s development and studies. Some parents said: ‘You can never get good enough sleep no matter for how long because you are constantly disturbed especially by very loud and noisy vehicles that pass by’ (FG2–6) (see Appendix A). One teenage student shared her difficulties of ‘doing homework and assignments, because there is no electricity; it is really difficult . . . and then in the evening . . . it is dark.41 How can we study . . . you cannot really 41. In the Philippines it gets dark every day at around 6 pm.

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concentrate . . . when you really want to study, you cannot really concentrate because of the environment in the community’ (I–02). Beyond these environmental challenges, the children are also affected by peer pressure. It not only affects their way of living, but also their studies and even their respect for their parents, with its high cultural value. The parents are aware of and fear the negative peer influence their children are exposed to while living on the streets. One parent’s wish for her daughter is ‘that she will not go with the gang. That whenever someone wants to have a bad influence on her, she would say no; because no one else would influence you to stop coming to school other than the gang’ (I–09). The children not only experience pressure from their street peers, but also in school. One teenager explains, ‘Some classmates mock and make fun of us because we are poor or because we only live in a park. Peer pressure is very strong’ (FG2–8). Because they live in the Park, ‘children are sometimes discriminated against’ (FG2–5). Mockery is part of the daily lives of both children and parents. This adds to the hurdles the community has to overcome as they struggle to survive on the streets. The parents provide the children’s primary environment and they have great impact and influence on their life. Some parents do not put a high value on education and so influence their children against it. One parent reflects that ‘a parent like me, I am lazy, [. . .] it’s because of my laziness. [. . .] if you are the kind of parent who values education then the effect is really good. But if you’re a parent who is a bit lazy like me, I am often not able to think about my children’s future, really bad’ (I–07). Because of the community’s culture of daily survival, concerns about tomorrow are not a priority. Probably one of the main questions outsiders ask is: why do so many families and individuals choose to settle and live in the park or surrounding streets? ‘Choose’ may not be the right word, as you will shortly see. Preceding a choice there is always a cause. There are different reasons that lead people to live a life of great difficulty on the streets. It is one thing to seek refuge in the park, another to settle. What are the reasons that make families stay there for almost twenty years? Why would that young adult, who grew up in a middle class family and attended private school, end up living on the streets for years? What are the underlying motivating factors that keep families and individuals living on the streets where it can often be very violent and abusive? (a) Reasons for Living in the Park The field research yielded seven reasons for individuals and families to seek refuge in the park and why they have continued living there; family issues, political unrest, employment opportunities, convenience, camaraderie with park dwellers, proximity to education and finances. Family issues. One major reason many participants pointed out were ‘broken families’ (I–05) and family conflicts which lead to rebellion. Sandra, a mother who lives in the park with her daughter, remembers, ‘We had spats, then he hit

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me. At first, I left my daughter with him, but she got sick, so I got her back before I moved here. We’ve been staying here since’ (I–08) – that was in 1993. A twenty-four-year-old mother of six recalls the feeling of not being cared for and loved by the family she grew up in. ‘Maybe it’s because I was too jealous, or maybe I was so selfish; but I was crying for their attention. Still my Mom wouldn’t care’ (I–11). In addition, another young man, now in his early twenties, reflects on the reason why he ran away from home at the age of thirteen. ‘I learned from my uncle that I was adopted . . . . so, my mind was so messed up, I rebelled. . . . I moved to the park because I rebelled against my family’ (I–19). Another teenager said, ‘I ran away, that’s why I came to live in the park’ (I–04). Deep hurts, abuse and disappointments have pushed many children, teenagers and single mothers to choose a life away from their biological families. They would rather live on the streets with all its difficulties than go back to their family. Political unrest. Another reason to leave family was armed conflicts in the remote provinces. ‘We were from Cotabato, but there was armed conflict in Kabacan. Our house was very near the place where they bombed the Muslims. That’s why I informed the family that we’ll just evacuate to Davao; and that’s the reason why we came to live here in the Park’ (I–09). A husband recalls, we ‘escaped because there were NPAs [rebel group]. We were scared’ (I–10). With the recent fighting between the different rebel groups and the government, we have observed more families ending up in the streets of Davao. In this case, the city represents a safe haven for them. Many will probably never return to their war-torn villages. Employment opportunities. For many others, the city provided them with a livelihood. A single mother of seven children reflects on her process of settling in the park: ‘I was still living in Mintal and went to the Park to sell slippers: at that time, I realized that my profit was just not enough. It was just enough for our food, but could not cover my kids’ education, and other requirements like clothes, so I wondered what I should do as a single parent – and I was also pregnant’ (I–07). The single mother would sell slippers all day and then had to pay for the ride back to Mintal. She spent too much money on transportation so that there was barely anything left for food. She also stated that, ‘my children cannot survive when I leave them in Mintal for the whole day because it seems they are maltreated by my in-laws’ (I–07). She decided that, instead of going back and forth and spending all the money on transportation, she would move with her four children to live in the Park. Apparently, many who now live in the Park experienced a similar story, saying that ‘my source of income is here. I am able to stay here in the place where my source of income is’ (I–06). Their livelihood only allows them to survive each day, and any additional cost, such as transportation or rent for a place to live could not be met. Thus, they made the park their dwelling place. Convenience. Familiarity is another reason that came to light. Those who grew up in the cities mentioned that they came to live in the park ‘because we are

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used to the city’ and ‘because when I was still single, I stayed here in Davao’ (I–01). If somebody has lived on the streets for a time, it becomes increasingly difficult for that person to adjust to a different lifestyle and place. A few years ago, the government relocated some of the families and they were given a bunkhouse of their own. However, most have returned to live on the streets. Sandra explained that another family ‘had a hard time where they moved, so they decided to come back. Then the house that the government gave them, they just sold’ (I–08). She shared that the relocation site is ‘too far, it’s so remote, and what would be their means of income or livelihood there?’ (I–08) and that is why they came back. Wherever they came from – war-torn villages, familiarity with the city or change of scenery – for all of them; the city gave them a new home. Camaraderie with park dwellers. The Filipino people are a very relational people, thus camaraderie has been a major motivating factor for many to continue staying on the streets. As one youth explained his reason for staying was ‘because I don’t have a family, I’m on my own. I want to stay because I know everybody here; I consider them like my own mothers and aunts. And those in the stores there, I consider them my older brothers; and my friends are like my own siblings because we meet together every day and night, to make a living. So I like it here. If I move to another place, I will need to start all over again’ (I–16). Similarly, another participant stated that ‘for me, I find that there is more camaraderie on the streets than at home. There are more friends and happenings outside here in the streets than I would have at home’ (FG1–5). Other participants affirmed this by stating that ‘some people, especially older ones, find it better to live on the streets because they do not feel at home in their homes with their children anymore, so they would rather live with others on the streets’ (FG1–2). There are many more stories of how people have found a community they can belong to, even when it means facing the hardship of living on the streets. Proximity to education. Surprisingly, data showed that another reason for families to continue living in the park is because of their children’s education. From the park, the grade school is just a short walk for the younger kids and only a short ride to the next high school and college. In fact, most of the younger children from the FCH go to school daily and are, at least for the beginning of the school year, integrated into the education system. Some families feel that if they moved to a different location and transferred their kids to a different school, ‘they might be displaced’ (I–08). Both parents and children mentioned that education is one of the values for their family. The reality and difficulty of their living situation, like not having enough sleep or enough food, and a good support system to sustain them through a whole school day, makes it hard for the kids to finish a whole school year. Statistically, more than half of the school children of the community stop going to school by midyear. But whatever the reason for them to settle in the park, they have found a place for themselves, a place they can eat each day, a place they can find work, a place they can feel safe. And they have made it their home.

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Finances. Life on the streets is not at all easy. Finances are, of course, always a hot topic in the FCH, mainly because resources are very limited within the community and often some are pushed towards bare existence and are in great need of help. Most of them do not have any savings and then there are days when it is really difficult to find money. Pure survival instinct then shapes their decisionmaking. These hard days are often accompanied by limited or no possibilities of gaining help from institutions, such as the government, churches or NGOs. We observed that it is during these times of great need that people will approach somebody from within the FCH. The community’s financial practices and transactions are often based on their experience of the loan sharks. When they borrow money within the community, they can lend each other only a small amount: ‘You cannot easily borrow a big amount of money. You can only borrow 20 pesos; it’s even hard to borrow 50 pesos. And the interest is even bigger’ (I–08). If somebody needs to borrow a bigger amount, they usually go to the loan sharks. For example they borrow 500 pesos and have to return 600 pesos within a specific time frame, usually paying a small amount each day. This practice results in most of the FCH members being always in some kind of debt and working their way out of it, and it gets ‘tiring to pay’ (I–04). They don’t have ill feelings about the high interest rates, as one participant notes, ‘Yes, we really just pay. That’s also his business, to exact interest’ (I–06). When somebody from the FCH receives an unexpected financial blessing, I have observed many times that they would share this with the community. When a community member is hit with tragedy, sudden death, large medical expenses, or similar calamities, the community tries to help out. ‘We helped out . . . actually, the first was when Ernel died. The community contributed some amount for Ernel. He was a part of our community, . . . he was a big help to us, he was one of our group . . . but someone just stabbed him right there inside the park’ (I–19). Resources are really limited, and the FCH members often exhibit selfishness in trying to survive each day. However, in times of being ‘blessed’ or in great need, the community comes together to help each other. (b) The Price of Living in the Park Ernel was one of many who paid the ultimate price for living on the streets. As in many similar contexts in urban centres around the world, street life is sadly accompanied by killings and fighting. I cannot forget the horror expressed by the young child who told me that she had just witnessed somebody being killed two metres from where she was standing. After the DDS killer stabbed the victim several times, he looked straight at her and told her not to help the victim, because he was a thief. This is not a one-time incident, but most of those who live on streets tell their own stories of great brutality, fighting, abuse and killings that they have watched or even experienced. Another father reflected on these issues, ‘Like those riots (in the park) are such a huge problem because that’s where we sleep. Rioters would throw stones at each other, like last December. I did not leave that time because my children were already sleeping. I just shouted at them saying if my

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children got hit or if anyone got hit then they should run because otherwise I would cut them with my machete’ (I–15). Illegal drugs and alcohol use and abuse also often threaten the peace and spur conflict within the FCH. Those using illegal drugs and alcohol often negatively influence others. The ‘rugby boys’ (glue sniffing) have had a bad influence on other children living in the park. As one young teenager remarked, when they are ‘using rugby, I can hardly sleep’ (I–18) because of fear of what might happen. Another young mother remembered an incident with the rugby boys: ‘While we were sleeping, some rugby boys were so rowdy. They threw rocks towards our shanty, but they landed on the feet of a pregnant woman who was staying right behind us. So all the others woke up and ran. . . . I said, ‘Don’t run, they might have sumpak (home-made gun), they might shoot us. That’s often happened’ (I–09). The fact that the Philippines is a tropical country contributes to the struggle faced by the community. Some families have built small shanties on the sidewalk or squatted in a small area beside the park. The shanty provides a small place for the families to store their belongings and they sleep on the park grounds or the sidewalk. When it rains, the FCH has to scramble to gather all their things and hide them under small roofs that businesses have by their entrances. They all stand there, waiting for the rain to stop and the flooding to subside so that they can continue their night’s rest. ‘When it rains really hard during the night, it’s really lively, everybody is shouting . . . . we joke, ‘Hey, call ABS-CBN (a local TV station) so that they can take a video of us” (I–11). It is during those times that you hear much story-telling while the kids play in the rain. What is always amazing is that they can smile, laugh and joke in the midst of their tribulations. Living on the streets also produces quite a few practical challenges, such as safe keeping of valuables. Sometimes, when they are asleep in the park, they get robbed by somebody who cuts their pants open to gain access to their money. Keeping money, important documents or treasured belongings safe is quite a challenge. Another participant shared his struggle of living on the streets: ‘What I don’t like there is the morning dew. When the morning dew is heavy and I lie down on the pavement, my back aches. But what can we do, we’re here, and we have nowhere to go’ (I–09). However, the reality still is that ‘sometimes we can’t sleep because we can’t find a space to lie down; there are so many people lying around’ (I–18). Those of us used to beds can only imagine the hardships of sleeping on the sidewalks. But a respondent comments, ‘regarding our situation here, sleeping on the sidewalk is not a problem for us, it’s just temporary’ (I–18). This participant, a mother of five, who has been living on the streets since 1993 along with the rest of the community, merely characterizes her reality, as ‘it’s just temporary’.

III. Kinship and the Social Order: The Social Ties that Bind According to F. Landa Jocano, the basic element of any Filipino community, in fact of the whole Philippine society, is kinship. He elaborates: ‘It is through this structural unit of society that much local authority, rights and obligation and

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modes of interactions are expressed, defined, ordered and systematized.’42 In the Philippines, when one is born, status, position, rights and relationships are defined within the society based on the family. Belen Medina explains: ‘The family in the Filipino society performs the function of status placement very effectively. Family prestige is a very important basis for stratification. A person is seen not only as an individual but as a member of the family and kin group.’43 Blood relations are very important and Filipino family structure is often characterized as traditionally consanguineal, moving beyond the mere nuclear family to include distant cousins, aunts and uncles.44 In the Filipino social order, it is kinship that regulates and directs most relationships and behaviour. As each family is aware of its kinsmen, non-kinsmen are distinguished and given a different treatment and priority. Medina explains that usually ‘kin relations are characterized by mutual help and reciprocity which in turn reinforce and preserve kinship solidarity and cohesiveness’.45 The internal structure of a family exists within the wider ‘networks of relationships with other subsystems and with society as a whole. It acts as the link between the individual and the larger social structure. . . . The Filipino family, for instance, plays a critical role in the social, political, economic, educational, and religious life of the people.’46 As the FCH consist of mostly families, and a few youth, it is crucial to have a closer look at their kinship relationships. It is through understanding the FCH family that a better insight into their social interaction and identity can be gained. The runaway child or youth within the FCH is often socially ‘adopted’ by one of the families, where the ‘adopted’ child or youth would refer to their ‘mama’ or ‘papa’. The family or parent embraces the person and provides some help. The Filipino family value is expressed in giving respect and submitting to the older person. This starts at a very young age, when the child learns to address older siblings with a term of endearment, kuya for older brother or ate for older sister. Later in life, when a Filipino meets someone new, and the age difference is not obvious, they will inquire about the age to give the proper prefix, kuya or ate, to show respect. If there is a much wider age gap, manong (male) and manang (female) is used. In that sense, respect, and often also authority, is based not on gender, but primarily on age. This is one of the core values that bind the Filipino family together. In fact, many anthropologists have shown that Filipino kinship determines and controls interpersonal relationships.47 As with any family, there are values that

42. F. Landa Jocano, ‘Filipino Social Structure and Value System’, The Management of Men (eds J. B. M. Kassarjian and Robert A. Stringer; Manila: Solidaridad Pub. House, 1971), p. 410. 43. Belen T. G. Medina, The Filipino Family (Diliman, Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 2nd edn, 2001), p. 60. 44. Medina, The Filipino Family, p. 22. 45. Ibid., p. 34. 46. Ibid., p. 49. 47. For example, Evelyn Feliciano, Filipino Values and Our Christian Faith (Manila, Philippines: OMF Literature, Inc., 1990).

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pressure individuals to conform to their social obligations. It is through the Filipino family, whether part of the elite or the poor that each person, receives his/ her identity and finds security in an outside world of chaos.48 To understand the Filipino is to realize that ‘rarely is a Filipino alone by choice. If we wish to understand him we must see him where he feels best: in the context of his family.’49 Tomas Andres posits that Filipinos fear solitude. Living in a kinship oriented society, ‘the Filipino experiences a sort of separation anxiety when functioning autonomously. A negative value is placed on solitude so much so that when one finds a person sitting alone, one usually asks what is wrong. From babyhood to death, constant companionship is encouraged so that Philippine society looks with downright disapproval on certain norms on independent behavior.’50 The Filipino family loyalty circle extends beyond the merely nuclear family, to include distant relatives, in addition to persons not related by blood but through rituals, as will be illustrated below. Although many Filipinos promote their society as being patriarchal, beneath the surface the women actually take quite a central role. Tomas Andres notes that ‘[t]he Philippines is run by women, and the Filipino males let them. Even during the pre-Hispanic period, the Filipino woman was pretty much the head of the house as the husband was out most of the time busy as a warrior. . . . the woman governs the home, and she also governs society.’51 The father is the head of the family but the wife is the one who rules. ‘For it is the mother that reigns in the home, she is the educator, the finance officer, the laundry woman and the cook.’52 This is also the case with the FCH, where the wives are often involved in some kind of business enterprise, contributing to the family income, besides having to care for their children. They usually are the ones managing the family finances. Often wives carry the sole responsibility of ensuring the well-being of the family; taking a more responsible role than the male. When it comes to making family decisions, almost all parents and their kids stated that it involves a consensus between the parents. However, although not stated in the interviews, I observed that quite often the mothers are left with most decisions relating to their families as the husbands often withdraw from any responsibility for raising the kids. One father, in his attempt to explain this reality, clearly reveals their attitude, ‘sometimes I’m tired. Sometimes she’s the one who made a decision about it. Sometimes, “Ah, just do that thing yourself ” ’ (I–06). 48. Chester L. Hunt, Agaton P. Pal, Richard Coller, Socorro Espiritu, John E. de Young and Severino F. Corpus, Sociology in the Philippine Setting (Manila, Philippines: Alemars, 1954), p. 85. 49. George M. Guthrie and Pepita Jimenez Jacobs, Child Rearing and Personality Development in the Philippines (Manila, Philippines: The Bookmar, Inc., 1967), p. 194. 50. Tomas Quintin D. Andres, Understanding Filipino Values: A Management Approach (Quezon City, Philippines: New Day Publishers, 2005), p. 114. 51. Ibid, p. 108. 52. Teodoro A. Agoncillo and Oscar M. Alfonso, A Short History of the Filipino People (Quezon City, Philippines: University of the Philippines, 1961), p. 7.

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(a) Rituals and Social Order Kinship is further formed and strengthened through rituals that regulate interpersonal relationships and establish one’s social position and responsibilities. Rituals are sometimes a rite of passage into the family and wider community. In this I follow the work of Arnold van Gennep53 on the importance of rites de passage. In particular, I examined the practices and beliefs associated with transitional experiences involving both natural (birth, death) and ideological (marriage) aspects that have been given social significance. These rites are in essence both secular and sacred.54 1. Pregnancy, Childbirth and Childhood. The reality of living on the streets does not provide ceremonies for pregnancy or childbirth. In other cultures emphasis is given to a transitional period (for example separation by customs of seclusion in special huts, having a special role in the family, different taboos, purifications rites, etc.). Other cultures have put the pregnant woman in a place of isolation (because of her impurity or wanting to protect her from a dangerous environment) or have put her in a physiologically and socially abnormal condition.55 In a community driven by the need for daily survival, the transitional period of pregnancy and childbirth is kept to a minimum, so that the mother can quickly return to her routine of keeping the family going. ‘She gave birth already?’, I asked astonished as a mother had just attended our Christmas party the night before. My wife Kaye told me that she was already feeling pains during the party but did not want to miss anything so did not tell anyone that she was already in labour. After the party, we brought the community back to the park; she went inside her shanty, closed the door and gave birth to her son. Most pregnant women in the FCH will never go to a doctor or have any medical check up. No extra nutrition or special care is given by the husband or extended family. I remember well when I found out that Anna was pregnant again, that we (the SO team) introduced her to a lying-in maternity clinic catering to the underprivileged. My wife and I brought her to the clinic, and made sure she got the necessary laboratory tests. The tests were the only requirement for somebody to deliver at the clinic for free. Months later, on a routine visit to the park, Anna showed me her nine-hours old baby. Asked if she went to the clinic to deliver, she said no because it was not yet her due date; her daughter came too early and she was too ‘shy’ to go to the clinic. This prevented Anna from going to the clinic, a much safer environment for delivery, instead she gave birth in the shanty built on the sidewalk. In addition, she had to call the services of a midwife which cost her 53. Arnold Van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (London: Routledge, original edition 1960, 2004). 54. Compare Raul Pertierra, Religion, Politics, and Rationality in a Philippine Community (Honolulu, Hawaii: University of Hawaii Press, 1988), pp. 95–116. 55. Gennep, The Rites of Passage, p. 41.

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P3,000. Being shy is a common response among FCH members and it often creates greater financial burdens to their already tight family budgets as well as limiting their access to resources that would increase their quality of life. Most of the mothers in the park have several children. We were told by one of the mothers that their children are the blessings that God gave them. They said that unlike us, they are not blessed with finances or material blessings, but with children. Childhood in the FCH is far different from what most others would consider normal. Observing the community as an outsider one notices a pattern. Where I come from, being a teenager of sixteen means that you have freedom to go out late at night at the weekends, but still adhere to parental restrictions on a daily basis. Not so with the FCH. Many of the mothers have their first child at the age of 16. This leaves them no choice but to grow up fast, and, most of the time, on their own. The child, in turn, learns to cope with the challenges of street life from the moment it starts to breathe. They have to learn how to sleep in a hot, noisy, dusty and uncomfortable environment. Their bodies already have to start fighting bacteria and viruses to keep healthy and at the same time develop well enough to be considered normal by society. While visiting the FCH, I hold my two-year-old daughter’s hand crossing the busy street, not letting her out of my sight while she plays with the other kids, constantly making sure that nothing will happen to her. But the kids of the FCH are left on their own as soon as a they can walk. With their shanties built on the sidewalks of a main road, children get used to playing and hanging out there and even crossing the streets on their own. But I know of only one accident that killed a child and that was ten years ago. I have been amazed at how the very young kids run and cross the busy streets. Anybody who has watched the movie Slumdog Millionare – about an Indian street child that wins the Indian version of ‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?’ – knows that there is a difference between street smart and what society considers smart. It is the same with the FCH members; society would not consider them smart, as they lack the general knowledge usually gained through formal education. However, they are very street smart, a three-year-old can survive on her own, knowing where to find food, how to cross the busy streets alone, sleep on the streets, etc. Each child learns the hard way at a very early age what it means to be a survivor. In my own culture, young teenagers still need a babysitter, while a member of the FCH at age five will be responsible for watching over and taking care of younger siblings. So the transition into adolescence starts at a much earlier age than would be the case in many other cultures including nearby residential Filipino communities. FCH children learn how to get through pain. During one of my visits in the park, I saw a four-year-old, Daniel, lying on a carton crying. His grandmother shared that he had a bad toothache. I asked if I should go and buy some medicine for him but she said that she had some but Daniel needs to learn to take the pain. Six-year-old Analyn fell from a branch of a tree and hurt her arm. It was apparent that she had dislocated her elbow. My wife asked her mother what they had done about it and what they planned to do as she was still a little girl. She said the elbow

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was ok and that they had just asked a ‘trained-by-experience’ masseuse to give it a massage with slight manipulation. We (the SO team) gave them financial assistance for the girl to have an x-ray and check-up, but they did not follow this up. Today, Analyn has a distinctly dislocated elbow which she will have for the rest of her life, because her parents did not seek medical care for it. A lot of the children in the FCH will suffer the consequences of the street life they were born into. The parents are so preoccupied with surviving today that they neglect the welfare of their children for tomorrow. Education was at the top of the list of core family values the parents identified during the interviews. Historically, educational institutions started as schools for Spaniards but were eventually opened to natives.56 Education is often viewed as the great liberator for a colonial nation, but it can also serve as a pacifier.57 For Filipino historian Renator Constantino, early education was a period marked by ‘miseducation’ and a time when one was ‘de-Filipinized’.58 Education, because it allowed little creative thinking, could be described as ‘a form of illiteracy’.59 By enculturating the students into a Western mindset, education has divided Filipinos, deepening the chasm between the elite and the masses. For Eleazar Fernandez, this is not at all surprising if one considers that many ‘educated interpreters of the Philippines’ realities have been trained in the educational institutions of the imperialist centre (I for one), and thus have been trained to think like their conquerors and have benefited from the system over their fellow Filipinos’.60 This division between the elite and the poor is keenly felt especially by the FCH. All the participants view education as important, a privilege, and relevant to their lives, as it gives one better opportunities to find a good livelihood. Yet, because of their living environment, the students really struggle to keep up with the academic requirements, as it is ‘really difficult’ (I–02) and the parents struggle with financing their children’s education. Many parents expressed fear that their children will follow them in their educational path, as most, if not all of them are school dropouts themselves. Most parents expressed the hope that their children will be ‘able to finish their studies, so that they won’t be placed on the street, won’t follow those who take rugby . . . won’t follow my doings’ (I–06). ‘We don’t want them to help us out with this work, we’ll just work harder. It’s okay that they’ll just study. I’m asking them to really study hard’ (I–08). ‘Nobody can steal your education from you, that’s yours alone’, that’s what I always tell her. . . . And she would say, ‘Yes,

56. Leonardo R. Estioko, History of Education: A Filipino Perspective (Quezon City, Philippines: LOGOS Publications, 1994), pp. 163–79. 57. See Anne Harris, Dare to Struggle, be not Afraid: the “Theology of Struggle” in the Philippines (Diliman, Quezon City, Philippines: Claretian Publications, 2003), pp. 17–18. 58. Renator Constantino, ‘The Miseducation of the Filipino’, The Philippines Reader: A History of Colonialism, Neocolonialism, Dictatorship, and Resistance (eds Daniel B. Schirmer and Stephen Rosskamm Shalom; Boston, MA: South End Press, 1987), p. 46. 59. Constantino, The Philippines, p. 46. 60. Fernandez, Toward a Theology of Struggle, pp. 7–8.

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Mom, I will really work hard to finish school’ (I–09). And one parent said, ‘My wish for her is that, I really pray to God, that she’ll finish her studies, that she will not experience hardship, that’s why I really take good care of her even though we are hard up’ (I–13). However, when the children are about to give up on their education, most parents do not have the capacity to help them so that they stop attending school. The reality of having to survive daily, having no space conducive to study creates an environment that limits not only the ability of the children to study well, but also of the parents to be able to provide the discipline and encouragement for their children to pursue an education. Also challenges of their daily lives make it hard for the children to be motivated to go to school. Their attention span is very limited especially during the days when they have not had enough rest because of rain or chaos on the streets the night before, or when they have not had breakfast because yesterday’s income was insufficient. Instead, they skip school and try to find ways of eating enough to get them through the day or catching up with their much needed sleep. In fact, most will not be able to finish school due to the academic, financial and environmental challenges, thus diminishing their opportunities for a better future and so reinforcing the divide between them and the surrounding elite. An illustration for the struggle to get education in the midst of the challenges of street life is Carol’s story. Carol was not yet one year old when her family moved to the park; she is now twenty years old. I am amazed by her life and how she has overcome and is still overcoming the many trials of living and growing up in the park. I observed her daily routine when she was only eleven years old, coming home after a long day at school, she would change her uniform to ‘house’ clothes and start some of her work duties, such as cleaning dishes, cooking or selling cigarettes and candies to those hanging out in the park. When it was time to sleep, she would set her mat on one of the benches and somehow get herself to slumber in the midst of the noise and chaos of the park. Her days would start early as she needed to prepare breakfast for herself and her two younger sisters, before heading to school again. She made a wise decision to avoid associating with the wrong people in the park. I have been touched by her dedication, that despite her circumstances and her parents giving no encouragement for school, she diligently worked hard on her homework. She is the pride of her family and the community, and often looked up to by the kids, because in spite of the difficulties and challenges of being homeless, she managed to finish high school, the first in the FCH to do so. She received a scholarship to college as a stay-in working student. With the higher demands of college life, her income was just enough for transportation and a few snacks. However, there was no support system in place to help her through difficult times, so that Carol struggled through the first year. In the second year, her parents were in one of their clashes and the mother decided to leave the family for a few months and visit one of her sons in a different city, leaving Carol’s alcoholic father to take care of Carol and her two younger sisters. On one of her visits to the park, her father wanted money from her. Their conversation turned into an argument and she answered back at him, which shamed her father. In the heat of

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the quarrel, he slapped her face twice. Respect for elders and gratefulness to parents are expressed through obedience to authority figures. This gratefulness is not just an emotion, but a deep-level Filipino value called utang na loob, literally meaning a ‘debt inside oneself ’ or sense of gratitude that nurtures a deep obligation, and, even though repayment cannot be measured, one should make every effort to repay it.61 I have seen this when people are expected to repay their ‘debt’ to their parents, even when it comes with a high cost to their own lives. Instead of becoming economically stable, they are required to support their parents and family members and even relatives. Carol’s neighbour, Amy, who is just three years younger, never finished first grade. So often she had to obey her parents to stay at home to watch her younger siblings, that she was not able to cope with school. In Carol’s case, instead of providing a supporting network to help her through college, the family issues seemed to have tipped her over the edge eventually, so that she stopped going to school. The parents did not seem bothered by her decision, and a little later, her two younger sisters also stopped going to school. 2. Baptism. Baptism not only has a spiritual meaning in the Philippines, it also has economic and status significance. Ninongs (godfathers) and Ninangs (godmothers) are carefully chosen by the parents to widen the family support system. It is normal to have several Ninongs and Ninangs for each child. Ninongs and Ninangs get involved with raising the children. Through participating in the baptism ritual they become ‘related’ to the family, forming what some Filipino scholars refer to as ‘bilateral extended family’.62 Ninongs and Ninangs are not only responsible for the spiritual development of their godchild, but also for the child’s material well-being, by providing clothing, birthday gifts, food if necessary, a job and assistance for schooling.63 The more wealthy or influential Ninongs and Ninangs are expected to help in times of family struggle. Therefore, child baptism may become a ritual of extending ones’ families and support system. This rite of passage inevitably dictates behaviour, as Ninongs and Ninangs are obliged to uphold the kin to whom they have been ‘related’. For example, Maria Roces explains that ‘[a] ninong who may be a senator feels obliged to give his aijado (godson) a job in the civil service even if he knows the man is unqualified. A cabinet minister is asked by one to whom he owes an utang na loob to bend the laws for a family business and he feels obliged to grant the request. Such values reinforce the distinction between the family and the outside world and illustrate the complexity of the operation of social values.’64 However, as the FCH’s Ninongs and Ninangs are not senators, or in positions of authority, this rite of passage may

61. Maria Natividad Roces, Kinship Politics in Postwar Philippines: The Lopez family, 1945–1989 (The University of Michigan, Michigan, 1990), p. 25. 62. Ibid., p. 22. 63. Ibid. 64. Ibid., p. 30, italics in original.

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widen the gap (between the poor and rich) making it difficult to improve their support system. Belan Medina explains that even though the Philippines has an open-class system which, theoretically, allows people to improve their place on the social ‘ladder’, in reality, class placement in the Philippines is generally difficult to change.65 A few months after I started visiting the FCH, some others of my SO team were asked if we could baptize their children. They shared that they had wanted this done in the Catholic Church but were rejected, as many parents were not married there. Many of the team members as well as I became Ninongs and Ninangs of their children, probably with the hope that we will be able to help their families more closely as we become part of the extended network. However, SO team policies prevented us from giving to individuals or families (except in emergency cases). As a team, we believe that whenever we bring in resources from the outside, or start a project, the whole community should benefit. Nevertheless, when asked about why they wanted infant baptism, the FCH would usually interpret the rite not through the economical lens but through their supernatural outlook. I will further elaborate on this ritual in the next chapter, but for now it can be said that the spiritual world affects their lives, and hence they see the ritual of baptism as a way of protecting their children from harm and, specifically, sickness. 3. Marriage: Maria’s Story. ‘When I reached ten years old, he made me marry my husband. . . . I hadn’t started my period then’ (I–09). When she was ten years old, Maria’s father decided to give her to her husband, who was already in his twenties at that time. This happened almost forty years ago and they are still together today. Although she initially greatly opposed that decision, she eventually accepted it and decided to obey her parents. Maria’s story reveals some of the deep obedience children show towards their parents. Even though most members of the FHC today are able to choose who they marry, the parents still have a strong influence on them. In fact, Maria has adopted some of her father’s ways of parenting and she is still strongly involved in her children’s and grandchildren’s lives. All of her children still live near her, and, as Maria expressed obedience to her dad, so her children are following her advice. One of her sons is so strongly influenced by Maria that after years of not standing up for his wife, and their five children, the wife decided to leave the children with her parents and transfer to Manila to work there. She could not cope with the reality that her husband’s loyalty was with his parents and not with her. I have heard many similar stories, and not only among the urban poor. But also among middle- and upper-class Filipino families; when the parents do not like the boyfriend or girlfriend, their child eventually will break off the relationship. Or, if they push through to marriage, they sometimes experience rejection by their family, or the spouse will always be on the margin of that family, never being fully

65. Medina, The Filipino Family, p. 61.

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accepted by the parents as a family member. Respect and obedience to the parents is highly valued, at the expense of others outside the family circle. The multicultural character of the FCH means that there are different expectations for how the family is being involved in the marriage process. When it comes to extended family practices, those with Bisaya/Cebuano, Ilocano and Tagalog cultural backgrounds expect newlyweds to ‘have to separate’ (I–01) from their parents. Even though many noted that the newlyweds should live apart from their parents, those with Bagobo and Manobo heritage say that they should stay with their parents. However, in all the years I have been observing the FCH, none of the newlyweds have ever left the streets, or moved to a different location by themselves. Often they live with or near their parents. Marriage brings two families together. Culturally, any offence to one family member is interpreted as a threat to the whole family. Even if the wrongdoer is part of the family, they will be protected. This means one member’s action can bring shame or honour to the whole family, either contributing prestige or damage to the family in the sight of others.66 Family solidarity is in place to protect the family’s interests. In the FCH community, marriage is not seen as a ritual involving the wider community because to include others would be a great financial burden to the couple and family. This is contrary to most residential Filipino communities, even illegal settler and poor communities, where many will go into debt to celebrate marriage in their wider community. The FCH community would automatically regard a couple as ‘married’ once they live together. 4. Death. I have experienced a few deaths among street youth I have been working with in Davao but among the FCH there has been only one death since my arrival. As mentioned above, Ernel was stabbed to death. After being declared dead in the hospital, the body was transferred to a funeral place. Culturally, mourning takes several days, even weeks. This transitional rite of passage from life to death took several days for the community. They stayed at the funeral home, beside the coffin. The FCH came together to help the family in the grieving process. Some financial help was extended, but much more significant emotional support was given as friends and neighbours stayed with the family for days in the funeral home. This was a time when differences were put aside, hurts and quarrels were forgotten; the community came together to grieve the loss of one of their own.

IV. A Community’s Communication Process and Leadership, Within and Without The community lives together in a particular area, either in the park or on surrounding sidewalks. Many work together in those places and their routine daily activities such as raising kids, cooking, laundry, and using the bathroom are done 66. Roces, Kinship politics in postwar Philippines, p. 23.

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in the open. Such an intense social life is, of course, prone to conflict. This part will explore how they preserve their interpersonal relationships in times of conflict and what cultural traits guide their process of reconciliation and conflict resolution. As the participants described how they deal with community conflicts, they first seemed to be divided into two major groups. One advocated for direct confrontation and a ‘talk about it to settle the problem’ (I–18) approach. The other group preferred to have something like a ‘cooling-off period’ (I–02) with avoidance of the person(s) for a while ‘because if you don’t calm down, the conflict will linger’ (I–05). Even though some participants said that they preferred a confrontational approach, when later asked to share stories on how they handled recent community conflicts, six out of nine participants who preferred a confrontational approach shared stories revealing they opted for a cooling-off period, thus also taking the indirect approach in conflict resolution. This response to community conflict seems to be influenced by the deeper Filipino cultural trait of pakikisama; ensuring good relations with each other, an ‘ability’ to get along with others in such a way as to avoid outside signs of conflict’.67 To ensure ‘pakikisama, one learns to subject one’s personal desires to those of one’s group. If differences of opinion or action occur, pakikisama is maintained by using a go-between who will patch up misunderstandings. This ensures that no one is put to shame and everyone’s self-esteem remains intact.’68 This is why if the conflict gets out of hand, or to save face, there is one community member who would mediate between the different parties. They seek to ‘mediate so it is fair for all’ (I–02). Thus, having a mediator, a third person, is quite common in the Philippines. The pakakisama works through a nexus of interpersonal relationship ensuring no one looses face (hiya) in the process. At this point, looking at the community’s ways of communicating with each other, I want to elaborate on the concept of hiya, as it is a core cultural value that emerged in our discussions of the empirical description of the FCH. Hiya guides interpersonal relationships within the kinship system, either bringing shame or honour to the whole family. We need to understand hiya in the context of dangal or honour. Emil V. Tabbada explains that ‘[t]he reason for feeling ashamed is primarily the diminishing of one’s honor, either externally as caused by another person, or internally if caused by one’s own doing’.69 He provides a basic understanding of hiya as ‘being-ashamed-of-and-for-something’, which according to him ‘is constitutive of its objective and subjective aspects’.70 Jocano’s inclusive description encompasses both the intrapersonal and interpersonal aspects of hiya when he asserts, ‘The notion of hiya includes being

67. Tomas Quintin D. Andres, Understanding the Positiveness of Filipino Values (Manila, Philippines: Rex Bookstore, 1996), p. 148. 68. Feliciano, Filipino Values and Our Christian Faith, p. 22. 69. Emil V. Tabbada, ‘A Phenomenology of the Tagalog notions of Hiya [Shame] and Dangal [Dignity]’, Filipino Cultural Traits: Claro R. Ceniza Lectures (ed. Rolando M. Gripaldo; Washington, DC: Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, 2005), p. 22. 70. Ibid., p. 21.

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polite, bashful, tender, compassionate, and considerate. Thus viewed, hiya is one of the most important norms governing good manners and right conduct, particularly in public places.’71 However, hiya also has a negative side to it, and can be taken as expression of an inferiority complex. Narry Santos explains that this ‘view reveals a low sense of self-esteem, independence, and personal worth among the Filipinos. Along with a string of other traits, it is perceived as contributory to the ills of our present society.’72 For now, we can conclude that the interpersonal relations of the FCH are governed by the underlying sense of hiya established in the dangal (I elaborate on this in Chapter 5). When a decision is needed for and regarding the whole community, the participants pointed out two major approaches. First, seeking consensus from the community. I observed, however that it is usually a small group of the community that discusses an issue that will affect the whole community. They then present the decision to the others, ‘when everyone agrees, then the rest would also agree’ (I–15). The second approach emphasizes the role of a leader who makes a decision for the rest of the community to follow. This raises questions about community politics and leadership. Local sociopolitical leadership is a differentiating organizational element among Filipino communities. Filipino anthropologist, F. Londa Jocano has pointed out that some groups are mainly led by family heads, others by the oldest members of their group, while other ethnic communities are headed by a council of elders and others are led primarily by renowned warriors.73 Due to the unique cultural blend of the FCH, at least within the FECH community, all core families and youth are represented in the leadership and a representative does not have to be the head of a family. The emphasis is on having one of their own as a representative to ensure their voices and concerns are heard and that they are a part of the group. As I noted above, interpersonal relationships shape the social order of the FCH, which is also seen in how they develop a leadership structure within their community and relate to the sociopolitical context outside the community. As I discussed political leadership with the FCH, it became evident that it was a hot topic; probably because of the power distribution within the community. If a community member gets connected with a resource person in an official institution (government, church, NGOs, etc.), or a person who wants to share resources with the community, that member will have ‘authority/power’ and be recognized as a leader within the community. That person will, then, seek a way to share the resources with the rest of the community while community members follow him/

71. F. Landa Jocano, Filipino Value System: A Cultural Definition (Diliman, Quezon City, Philippines: Punlad Research House, 1997), p. 74. 72. Narry F. Santos, Turning our Shame into Honor: Transformation of the Filipino hiya in the light of Mark’s Gospel (Manila, Philippines: Lifechange Pub, 2003), p. 18. 73. F. Landa Jocano, Filipino Indigenous Ethnic Communities: Patterns Variations, and Typologies (Diliman, Quezon City: Punlad, 2003), p. 179.

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her, in order to ensure inclusion. This often creates conflicts within the community, as sometimes a family would feel left out when they are unable to receive resources or the process of distribution did not go in their favour. During my interviewing, it became clear that when asked who they think is a leader in their community, they were very hesitant to name somebody outside their family presumably because this role comes with great power. When asked about the sociopolitical leadership of the government, most responded with a negative view. They gauge the effectiveness of the government by how much they receive. The FCH’s perception of the government is that many have ‘made promises to the people, which they did not fulfill’ (I–19). ‘They saw our situation, we are sleeping in the park, and our belongings are stored in a small place. When we asked for a house, we were disqualified’ (I–11). Of course, the ordinary people would say: The government is giving such promises [. . .] so let’s just wait [. . .] but for how many days, how many years are we to wait? Nothing happens. That’s why there are so many rallies, because they made many promises. Uhmm, I know that it’s also hard for the government to do that, because there’s so much red tape for a project to be done. I also realized that the government is not united. They have their own agenda (I–19).

Sometimes a demolition team comes in to remove their shanties and the small stores ‘in the sidewalks then you get demolished’ (I–12). Sometimes experiences with the government end up in greater pain, ‘I asked for help but they just insulted me. [. . .] That’s the reason why I’m forced to do bad things, it’s because of that [. . .] The life of my brother was taken away, somebody should pay for it. [. . .] When my younger brother died, I asked help from the government. You can only ask for help once, after that, you can’t ask for help again. It’s no good’ (I–18). Most of the participants’ initial reply to a question about help from the government said, ‘none’ (I–09). However, a few questions later, they shared stories of how the FCH experienced assistance from the government. As I conducted this research, the 2010 elections had just ended, and, when asked, all said they had voted for the same mayor and vice mayor, both of whom had held previous political positions. When asked why they voted for them and not the opposing party, they replied: ‘What has Nograles [from the opposing party] done for me? Wasn’t able to help me’ (I–06). ‘I chose her because she was helping us. When she comes here and she sees us in this condition, she gives us some help’ (I–13). Duterte, the incumbent vice mayor, ‘was able to help a lot of people with his feeding ‘Lugaw’ (rice porridge) program; and also the mass wedding program. And he also helped the fire victims. Where can you find a mayor who gives?’ (I–16). ‘All of their ways and regulations are good. [. . .] Just think about when you fail to obey his command he would even kill you’ (I–10). They can accept the mayor’s strict mode of discipline because some material ‘blessings’ will reach them through his way of governing that they might otherwise not have received. They voted for his daughter because they know the father had helped them, so they trust the daughter to help them as well. So much does the interactive kinship system shape the social

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order, that the poor trust the Duterte clan to eventually rescue them from the misery of poverty.

V. The Economic Dimension From an economic point of view, Davao City has been booming over the past few years. The economy is flourishing as investors flock to build new businesses. Wherever you look in the city you see people enjoying new wealth, entertainment and places to go to. But the FCH do not benefit from any of this development. This section examines some of the hindrances to the community getting a share of the city’s great economic growth. As stated above, education is crucial if one wants decent employment. One participant noted that it is really difficult to find work in any ‘company here [. . .] if you are not educated’ (I–06). Another crucial factor in the Philippines is who you know. If anybody living on the streets wants a decent job, like working for the government, they have to rely on somebody to ‘sponsor’ them, as one would ‘. . . need someone to endorse you to be hired’ (I–01). ‘It’s hard if you have no sponsor. Even if you’re accepted but don’t have someone good to back you up, you can only work for just one month. And then you’ll wait another two months to get your salary; that means you have no salary for a whole three months. And that’s only for one month’s work’ (I–11). This illustrates the importance of relationships, as discussed earlier in the kinship and social order section. The FCH is well aware of the political realities within institutions where they hope to get work. The FCH continue to look for paid work to better their lives, despite the growing hindrances. The older generation experienced rejection of job opportunities ‘because of my age’ (I–01). Often, there are requirements (e.g. birth certificates, pictures, etc.) somebody has to bring for a job interview. ‘It is expensive to get the requirements’ (I–04) so that more stable work is unattainable. As a street dweller, living in such an environment is quite exhausting. Having to go around to apply for jobs makes it even more difficult. One participant explains, ‘It’s so tiring [. . .] it’s so hot [. . .] then when I’m already in front of the employer [. . .] I feel like backing out [. . .] I feel nervous. [. . .] it is just that sometimes, I have second thoughts about myself ’ (I–19). When someone finds work, keeping a job can be difficult. One had to stop working, because she ‘got pregnant’ (I–08), and had no benefits or prospect of returning to that work. Medical issues are not accepted as excuses for absence but rather become grounds for dismissal. The reality in Davao City is that most companies and establishments hire minimum wage workers on contracts for a maximum of six months, and only a few are kept on as regulars. The rest are dismissed and the company hires a new batch of workers. The reason for this is that beyond six months, the employer has to pay for social security, insurance and the like. Some establishments take advantage of the many unemployed people willing to work for even less than the Government’s minimum wage; they know that if an employee complains, there are many others waiting to take the job. Thus,

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those on the margins, who are lucky enough to get a job, may have to look for one again after six months. As the FCH have no savings, to start a new job where they have to wait a month or even more to receive the first salary creates a dilemma for them and their families. This hinders them from taking a regular job. Amazingly, even though there are many work hindrances and very limited job opportunities for the FCH, they are able to find creative ways to make their livelihood. They are skilled survivors of the streets and are always in search of a new business model to make some income for that day. Some work for a time as ‘server in an eatery’ (I–08), street ‘sweeper’ (I–11), ‘laundry woman’ (I–09), ‘manicurist’ (I–09), ‘painter’ (I–15), ‘garbage collector’ (I–16), ‘dishwasher’ (I–09), ‘car wash attendant’ (I–18), ‘collecting bottles and trash’ (I–09), ‘professional gambler’ (I–10), and ‘making baskets’ (I–10). These are just some of the ways they make a little money each day to get through. The community has proved that despite their plight, they are able to make enough money to survive. With the economical developments in Davao, the city is experiencing the technological revolution that has greatly impacted the global community in communications and other ways. Technology has also impacted the FCH. Surprisingly, while at Fuller Theological Seminary for residency study, I was able to remain well connected with the FCH. Many of the younger generation have Facebook accounts or are using other social networking sites. One participant’s reflections on the impact of technology on their community stated: ‘The technology can help us communicate with others, like our family members who are far away’ (FG2–1). Today, in the Philippines, there are Internet Cafés on almost every corner where people can use a computer cheaply. In fact, we have often observed that many of the youth prioritize their Internet experience over eating and other activities. They work, and as soon they have some income that enables them to pay the fee at the Internet Café, they go and enjoy surfing the Internet, playing online games or communicating with others through social networks. I remember one youth who got so good with a particular online game that he almost became a key global player, which would have given him a trip to compete in Indonesia. They also enjoy chatting with people around the globe and often have more friends in different nations than many others who would be able to travel to some of those nations. The impact of technology on their community can be ‘both positive and negative. It can be addicting and priorities are shifted. At the same time, they can learn something that they would not otherwise have learned without it’ (FG2–1). It gives a frame for the FCH’s members to participate in the technological revolution with all its benefits to life. However, for most parents, the negative impact seems to outweigh the positive. ‘When our children see that their classmates or friends have cell phones, and they come home saying that they also want one, the pressure to provide falls on us as parents. Some of our children these days spend our hard-earned money on internet or gaming’ (FG2–4). ‘Technology has affected our lives because it forces us parents to give financially to our children just so they could go to the Internet. They sometimes tell us that they can learn more there’ (FG2–7). ‘If a child needs to learn computer, it is very difficult for them to

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learn it in the Internet Café because the tendency is to do gaming and the knowledge or skill is different from what is needed in work’ (FG2–6). A teenager reflected: ‘Technology has given me a lower status. I get jealous of my classmates who know how to use the computer because they can practice. It pushes me to want to learn how to use the computer no matter if I have to always ask my mother for money so I can go to the café and practice using the computer’ (FG2–8). The community has yet to learn how to use this technology beneficially while avoiding harmful side-effects.

VI. Community Relationships, Within and Without The FCH live by unique street codes that each member follows, or suffers the consequences. These codes of conduct are different from what one would see among other illegal settlements or poor residential communities in the Philippines. This next section describes (1) how moral conduct in their relationships with insiders and outsiders of the FCH is practiced and rationalized; (2) how they are affected by how others perceive them; and (3) how their self-perception affects their attitudes and behaviours. (a) Codes of Conduct and Morality The FCH’s morality of good and bad is being rationalized, i.e. find justification for bad behaviour by pointing to their difficult context. For the FCH, comparing themselves to those who have shelter and regular work or professionals means that ‘they can stand firm with what is good because they have the means to meet their wants and needs’ (FG2–7). Their difficult living situation sometimes pushes them ‘to do bad things’, which is commonly accepted among the FCH because of the hardness of their situation. However, their understanding of right and wrong is centred on their circumstances in the community. It is wrong to do bad things within the community; for example, stealing and taking advantage of others, because they are all in the same predicament. And it is for this reason that it is alright to try to live in harmony with others, and to help each other ‘especially when the person really has nothing at all for the day and you have something to spare’ (FG2–1). Their morality of right and wrong is conceptualized as doing something for or against the community. There are street codes people must learn to follow if then want to be integrated into the FCH. Considering the financial situation of the FCH, they know that ‘[u]sually newbies arrive with money they bring from home. The bait for fellowship with the community is providing some members with a free snack or other treat. You have to start with establishing friendships. Be friendly and contribute to the fellowship’ (FG1–5). That way, they can ‘win our attention and affection’ (FG1–7). A newbie usually identifies a street group that they want to join, and undergoes some kind of acceptance ritual like the one described above. As a newbie, one should ‘not be proud’ (FG1–2). They have ‘to observe how the old-timers live and

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listen to what they say and obey them’ (FG2–2). Often, the newbie has to embrace whatever way the group uses to earn their livelihood, including stealing or prostitution. To live on the streets, I had to first get integrated with a group who already lived on the streets to learn their way of life because they already knew where to go and what to get. In the end I learned how to steal some food, like bananas (FG1–1).

‘In living on the streets, one must know how to find ways and means to get money or food to be able to survive. We have to learn different little means of livelihood to earn a living, like shoe shining and washing cars’ (FG1–4), or ‘do manicure and pedicure’ (FG1–6). ‘I had to do the same work as the group I was integrated in to fit in and survive, like stealing’ (FG1–3). ‘You have to work on getting along with us in the community. You have to be bold enough to enter whatever means of livelihood to be able to make money, including prostitution’ (FG1–1). One aspect of street culture is the reality of lying and stealing. Both practices derive from the daily quest for survival. The members explained that the purpose of lying to institutions or other individuals is that they ‘would be able to get financial help from others. [. . .] We also do it in the hope that we gain help from that person’ (FG1–2). Lying is also used ‘to gain admiration from others’ (FG1–1) and ‘to protect others and our friends’ (FG1–5). They ‘also lie to cover-up for our friends or to not get involved with whatever that other person is into or doing’ (FG1–3). Thus, it is acceptable to lie to others to gain personal profit or to protect a member of the community. However, lying to each other in the community is despised and scorned. When caught lying, the community will ‘tell the person outright or laugh at the person because [they] know the individual is lying. If it affects the whole community, a fight may happen’ (FG1–3). Similarly, when it comes to stealing, there is a clear code that they ‘should not steal from each other’ (FG1–5). Stealing is an abhorrent act among themselves because ‘[t]here is an understanding that in the community, we are of the same status and are all in need and struggling’ (FG2–2). But if one steals from the other ‘during hard times, we somehow also try to understand’ (FG1–5). They ‘don’t know how much trouble that person is in and you might be the reason that the person goes deeper into desperation’ (FG2–2). However, stealing from outsiders is well accepted as a way of survival. This is also the reason why they protect each other from the victim or the police. One participant shared that ‘If the person (the victim) comes and complains, we will tell them that we are not the police and that they should go and report to the police about it’ (FG1–2). Furthermore, ‘even if the person is beside me, I would say I don’t know who they are looking for’ (FG1–3). So, if somebody snatches something from one of the community members, they ‘would think of the person as a traitor. There would be a change in how [they] see and treat that person. The community will try to find a way to beat the person up’ (FG1–2). And because of this betrayal,

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trust is broken and the individual may be expelled. This is also applicable for people whose actions and behaviour negatively affects a family or the whole community. Harmony in the community is crucial. The practice of preserving the welfare of the community is vital not only for interpersonal relationships but also for their relationships with the government so as not to be on the blacklist for aid and services. Such a status would limit their resources and rights including being allowed to live in the park. People make sure they keep the peace with the government because they do not have anywhere else to go. Living in harmony with others is rooted in one of the Filipino core values; pakikisama. And from this comes their value of being ‘blessed to be a blessing’ to others. I noted above that a member’s financial blessings are usually shared with others in the community. One person said, ‘That is what is great about being part of the community: when one gets good financial income, the whole group will go out on a drinking spree together’ (FG1–1). However, this principle can also have negative effects when it is abused. Instead of bringing relief to the person or the family, sometimes pakikisama pushes the person to ‘blow out’ and spend all the money earned. Leoncini notes that if the person refuses to share because he wants to keep some money for his family, they are either called mayabang (proud) or kuripot (stingy).74 One respondent affirmed this by sharing that if the person would not share their blessings with others in the community, ‘We would think of that person as stingy’ (FG1–1). Surprisingly, only the males in the community are criticized for this. No pressure is put on the females to share when they get a good income because, ‘[i]f it were the female who gets the financial blessing, it would go to the family first. But if it is the male, most of the money goes to “partying” (FG1–1). A wife regretfully shared that ‘[w]hen the wife gets money, she thinks of the family members right away. But if it is the husbands, they have to divide the money and most of it goes to friends than to the family’ (FG1–7). (b) Perceptions of the Other Living in the park for more than a decade, the community has learned to blend in with society. The difficulties of their situation have taught them not to draw too much attention to themselves. However, as the location of the park where the community resides is right in the middle of the city, interaction with society is inevitable and most of the time negatively affects them and pushes them more to the margins. They have had interactions with the different sectors of society and shared their feelings about how they think other people view them individually and as a community.

74. See Dante Luis P. Leoncini, ‘A Conceptual Analysis of Pakikisama [Getting Along Well with People]’, Filipino Cultural Traits: Claro R. Ceniza Lectures (ed. Rolando M. Gripaldo; Washington, DC: Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, 2005), p. 166.

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Many of the members of the FCH have tried to apply for jobs. However, all of them implied that the economic sector has ‘low regard for us, especially when they learn that we’re from that place. Anyone who finds out that we’re from the park has a low regard for us. They look down on us’ (I–11). ‘Once they learn that you’re living in the park . . . they will think that you know all the crimes in the city. That we are a yucky, disgusting bunch of people [. . .] that they need to walk away from [. . .] a bunch of robbers [. . .] The reason why I said this is because I hear them say that every time they walk by. Don’t trust them. That’s how they see us’ (I–19). The preconceptions of those in the general economic sector about applicants from the FCH make it difficult for trust to develop between them. Sandra shared: ‘That’s why sometimes I’m embarrassed to look for work because they might not trust me anymore’ (I–08). Most of the children of the FCH attend the public school hoping for an education. Teachers are the most important aspect in this aspiration and their comments and views matter. They have variety of opinions about the children from the FCH. Many of them are supportive and are compassionate towards the children, to the extent of some going the extra mile for the kids, like letting them take a shower in school before classes begin. Most of the teachers feel pity towards the children, but then, some deduce that the FCH kids ‘would not have a bright future because they grew up in the park’ (I–14). In society, religious institutions are where the community members expect compassion. For one participant, pity and compassion is ‘sometimes, not always’ (I–19) felt in them. One participant shared that ‘what the priests and the nuns are thinking is that: “That’s their decision; we cannot do anything about it. We need to respect their choice; if they need our help, then we will help them” ’ (I–19). Nevertheless, ‘sometimes they (priest and pastors) call us. They say, they are wondering why, even though we are living here in the park, we’re not getting sick; that we have healthy bodies. They believe it’s because we are children of God, and He has not abandoned us’ (I–13). On the other hand, the government, faced with the reality that there is a community of homeless individuals and families living in the park just beside their office building, is trying, with their limited capacity, to help the FCH. The participants acknowledge that they ‘are the problem of the government, however, the government themselves always make promises of help but never follow through’ (FG2–4). For the community, the government sees them as ‘liars’ (FG2–2) who are discriminated against because of where they live. Because the FCH live in a public area, some people show pity and compassion towards them, commenting that they should be ‘given relocation’ (I–11) and some ask why they are there. However, a majority of the participants in my research say that by and large the general public’s view of them is negative. They are looked down upon and considered to have no value, are misunderstood and subjected to mockery and ridicule. This extends even to showing disrespect, for example ‘step[ping] on the area where we’ve just cleaned, getting ready to sleep. They have no sympathy’ (I–11). Sometimes, they are able to muster their courage and ask the passers by who are staring at them and making bad comments, ‘Why are you

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staring at us? Do you have a place for us? Can you provide a place for us to move?’ (I–09). Because this is a regular occurrence for them, the community has ‘learned to act blind to all the negative reactions, comments and gestures of the passers by’ (FG2–9). These experiences have pushed the FCH further into the margins. (c) Self-perception The FCH’s experience with the different sectors of society has also affected how they see themselves. Not only do they perceive outsiders as people who look down on them – ‘pity them’ – but as they engage in relationships with outsiders, they are often also ashamed of who they are. It is my observation, and it is evident in the interviews and focus groups, that the members of the community suffer from an inferiority complex as Tomas Andres also notes.75 Though they may outwardly show aggression, pugnacity or even confidence, deep within they are flustered, anxious and diffident. Their living situation has taught them to smile even when they have not eaten for a day; to pretend to know a lot, even when they do not; to be ready, even when they are not. They have learned to compensate for their lack with what they have – themselves. Families and individuals from the FCH know their distinctiveness and acknowledge it. They know they are dirty. I remember one visit in the park with my baby daughter, the kids wanted to touch and see the new baby but the parents did not let them because they were dirty. One day, a mother refrained from carrying our little one, saying she wanted to carry the baby but she hadn’t taken a shower. I have mentioned that most of the members of the community are school drop-outs. Thus, they often seek a bata relationship with outsiders. Bata meaning child, a reference to the kinship system. Andres explains that this relationship can be formed if one of the actors takes the subordination role.76 For example, many of the male FCH members work as car watchers in the nearby parking areas. As people park their cars, they ask if they can watch the cars for protection and sometimes the owner will let them wash their cars. If they have regular customers, they attempt to build a bata relationship, calling them their amo (boss). As the relationship develops, the boss starts taking care of them, sometimes by providing food or other necessities. If a youth wants to go back to school or needs work such as cleaning restaurants or offices, the new ‘boss’ sometimes offers to help. This amo relationship is another code of conduct the FCH live by. The amo relationship is carefully formed because a time of need will inevitably come and the FCH member can then approach their benefactor to ask for help. It is understood among the FCH members, that if one of them has an amo, that relationship is to be protected and no other member has the right to approach that amo. I recently observed as one other member, Toto, accepted money from another John’s amo and when John found out that Toto accepted money from his amo, it

75. Andres, Understanding Filipino, p. 126. 76. Ibid., p. 133.

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became a big conflict. John beat up Toto so badly that Toto could not go back to work for days. His family suffered so much that his wife went to John to ask for forgiveness. I asked John what it was all about, as Toto offered to give him all the money back immediately but John refused for days. He expressed that he did not care about the money, but mentioned that Toto knew he was not allowed to accept anything from his amo; it was wrong. Their self-perception influences how they form and maintain interpersonal relationships. The FCH interpret their situation often by the bahala na cultural value which helps them submit to uncertainty. ‘Bahala na’ is a linguistic expression that ‘signifies leaving something or someone in the care of God’.77 The bahala na helps them accept their fate, ‘since good is limited, not everyone is able to enjoy success and happiness at the same time’.78 FCH members believe that one day it will be their time and place, and so they patiently wait for this to come,79 rather than taking action now. This is another way of living ‘one day at a time’. However, living on the streets is both a positive and a negative skill set for survival with a multiplicity of consequences often based on the nature of relationships both within and outside the FCH community.

VII. Religious Institutions, Inclinations and Indigenous Beliefs Institutionalized religion is a major feature of Philippine society as it is estimated that 80 per cent of the population is Catholic. Religion not only plays a crucial role in the life of individual Filipinos, but also has great influence in all spheres of society. Many scholars have pointed out the links between religion and the historical, political and cultural life of the Philippines. Patricia B. Licuanan states, ‘Filipinos live very intimately with religion; this is tangible – part of everyday life’.80 For most of the Filipinos, religion provides them with the root of optimism, and as we explore further below, gives them the capacity to accept life’s hardships.81 Religion is part of ‘the cultural existence’82 of the Filipino people.

77. Rolando M. Gripaldo, ‘Bahala Na [Come What May]: A Philosophical Analysis’, Filipino Cultural Traits: Claro R. Ceniza Lectures (ed. Rolando M. Gripaldo; Washington, DC: Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, 2005), p. 203. 78. Ibid., p. 21. 79. Ibid. 80. Patricia B. Licuanan, ‘A Moral Recovery Program: Building A People – Building A Nation’, Values in Philippine Culture and Education: Philippine Philosophical Studies I (ed. Manuel B. Dy; Washington, DC: Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, 1994), p. 37. 81. Ibid., p. 45. 82. Cristina J. Montiel, ‘Filipino Culture, Religious Symbols and Liberation Politics’, Values in Philippine Culture and Education: Philippine Philosophical Studies I (ed. Manuel B. Dy; Washington, DC: Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, 1994), p. 117.

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As religion is central to most of Filipino life, the institutional church is very important for many Filipinos, including the FCH. The term ‘Church’ and what it is has always been a topic of discussion and debate: there is no one agreed definition or description of it. A few consider the church as a place of refuge where they can feel free to pray, confess (with or without a priest), to worship and to learn. For Carol, and some others members of the FCH, they consider the church a place where they can bring their problems and ask for help in dealing with lack of finances and food and family issues. The FCH know whom to approach for the help that they need and they know how to ‘work the system’. In my journey with the community, I have seen many churches doing outreaches and ministry to the homeless. The drawback in what I have observed is that the community sees this benevolence mostly as opportunities to obtain material assistance. Many community members have participated in various religious rituals (for example baptism, membership class, or Bible studies) in different churches and sects in order to gain access to the material blessings offered in return. Their view of church is influenced by their culture of daily survival. The FCH has likened the authority in churches to that of the government. Just as they are able to approach the mayor and other people in office, they expect to be able to approach church authorities in the same way, saying that, ‘If the mayor is reachable how much more should the pastor be?’ (I–01). Most of the participants see church leaders as key people to approach for help and economic provision. There are a few who view them ‘like apostles of Jesus Christ. I see them as they are serving’ (I–06) and ‘they correct you based on the Bible’ (I–02). However the interviews also yielded some negative responses, like ‘they feel and act so high that it is only very seldom that pastor or pastora will really help’ (I–04). My observation has been that the interactions with these churches and religious authorities is not motivated by interest in spiritual development, but rather by needs of daily survival. Whatever their view of the church and its authority, the majority of the FCH do not attend a local church. Due to their circumstances, some stopped going to church because of its economic demands. Others stopped because their family discouraged them by picking fights prior to going to the worship service. One participant commented that the churches ‘just allow people to treat other people that way. They don’t even scold them for not being properly attired. Why do the priests do that? Are they afraid that no one would come to church if they reprimand the people? Are they afraid to rebuke the vendors outside? Isn’t it improper to trade in God’s Temple? That’s unacceptable’ (I–19). The presence of hypocrisy, politics, jealousy and rivalry fuels a feeling of not belonging and discourages some from attending church. Comments like: ‘I am embarrassed [. . .] when I say I have nothing to give, they will answer, I cannot help you’ (I–04), ‘It’s us they stare at; it’s us they scrutinize’ (I–11) and ‘I am out of place, but for me, it’s okay, anyway I can understand’ (I–07). These are only a few of the realities the FCH is facing. However, it became evident from the data that most of them stopped attending church because of hurts incurred from members of the church or from church leaders. I have discussed how the FCH view the world, and how social and economic reality is influenced and governed by different circumstances. Tomas Andres

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points out that the experience that their lives are constantly governed in many ways by their circumstances leads Filipinos ‘to believe that one’s life is shaped and directed by superior forces beyond one’s control’.83 Such a belief means that one perceives success or failure, being sick or healthy, experiencing birth or death, and so forth through an understanding of the supernatural. Although the Filipino population is predominantly Roman Catholic, there is an underlying Filipino culture that has ‘an immediacy based on a perceived close relationship between the supernatural and daily human life that is uniquely Asian and is not present to the same degree in the religious mentality of Western Christianity’.84 This is also the case with the FCH who emphasize that the spiritual world is reality and needs to be respected. Spiritual mediums are often the only or last resort the poor turn to in their quest for help; healing, deliverance, prosperity, protection, guidance. Almost all of the participants in this research had experienced, or at least believed in the reality of the spiritual world. Many of them had vivid stories of encounters with the spiritual world, which in many cases resulted in fear of spiritual forces. For example, one reported: Then suddenly, the walls were beaten, the whole house was shaken, and the sound was like that of an animal. Then all the lights went off . . . all the things inside the house all turned and rolled. We were shouting really loud. . . . The wall of my aunt’s house was just made of plywood; it tore open, we saw its tongue, it was very long. . . . Its long tail was able to get inside the house, and the head was doing like this. I was holding a bolo, my sister was holding a bottle. We really shouted loud but the neighbors couldn’t even hear us . . . it was good that there was a cat; the cat was able to save us. . . . The cat came inside passing through the window, so our window was opened. So the cat was biting the leg of the thing. So if the cat was not there, we would surely be dead. . . . The cat fought for us . . . . when it opened the wall, it left a mark of a hand. Soon after, the evil spirit came back. My husband was so mad, he said, ‘Why are you disturbing my wife, she’s not disturbing you? Why not go somewhere else, somewhere far away, not here.’ Then after that, it didn’t come back anymore. Jessica and I saw its eyes; it was really big like a carabao’s (water buffalo). My sister really lost her mind. What I always remembered was its face. Even when I eat, I couldn’t eat because I remember its face (I–09).

This graphic story illustrates how real the spiritual world is and how it impacts people’s physical environment. A month after the incident, the participant recalls being . . . brought to a spiritist. She said, ‘You were disturbed by the agta in the Balete’ (a mythical beast that lives in the Banyan tree). We remembered that it also had a

83. Andres, Understanding Filipino, p. 20. 84. Paul A. Rodell, Culture and Customs of the Philippines (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 2002), p. 29.

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string hanging from its neck, just like a carabao. So, our neighbors said, if you could have opened the door, you would be dead because it would have eaten you alive (I–09).

To appease the ‘agta in the Balete’, they needed help from a spiritist, a medium who, through rituals and offerings, restored the relationship between the spirits and the participants. This happened twenty-seven years ago in their remote province and even now, after living in the city for nineteen years, the woman shared the story with great fear. She is still afraid today because ‘[t]here are also evil spirits here in the park. You can ask anybody. They show themselves to people there. Like the white lady who’s wearing long-sleeves. And sometimes it’s a male.’ The spiritual world exists in remote areas and in reality everywhere, including the metropolis. Many of the FCH members have adopted practices, rituals or sayings to ensure that they will not disturb the spirits. In one community visit, I heard the story of how Daniela, the granddaughter of Kristine, one of the community leaders, was healed after Kristine sprinkled rice around the tree where Daniela was playing before she got sick three days ago. After the doctor’s check-up, taking medicine and seeing no significant improvement in health, Kristine opted to also do something to appease the spirit living in the tree, just in case. Another participant stated: There are white ladies. . . . For example in the church, in the restroom, they are there. Before I go inside the restroom I say, ‘tabi’ (many Filipinos would say tabi to ask permission from the spirits to pass by or be there and not to offend any of them). I ask permission. . . . You have to ask permission. Even in the dark part of the Park. . . . In our place, they are there. And in our Talisay tree. When I urinate I say, ‘tabi’ (I–01).

Many people fear the spirits because they believe that ‘they want to take you but not your body, only your spirit. They will leave your body, they will get the spirit’ (I–07). It is such a reality to them that participants believe the spirits communicate with them. They ‘talk with you in a dream. . . . Their power is an evil power but they communicate with me through dream, only in dreaming. So, there is a time that some would not be able to wake up’ (I–07). Another participant shared that she ‘had an experience about bad spirit . . . . illusion. When my grandmother died, after two days, she showed herself to me . . . . for me, it was a sign that my Lola was saying goodbye to me’ (I–19). The reality of the spiritual world is so imbedded in the Filipino culture that these beings are given names to describe their identity (for example, agta, maligno, white lady). Several participants identified these supernatural beings as ‘angels without a place in heaven . . . they are like their ancestral lost angels, when Saint Gabriel and Lucifer had a fight and the angels were thrown to the earth. They were thrown in the ocean, in the stones, in the plants, plants and forest, that’s them’ (I–07); ‘fallen angels’ (I–02). One participant shared that ‘they are just like us but in the dark’ (I–05). The FCH seem to fear the paranormals, but beyond the fear, there is respect. People

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make sure they do not intentionally or unintentionally bother the spirits lest something negative will happen to them. There is great fascination with their power. If somebody gets sick, quite often a healer is sought as it is commonly believed illnesses are caused by spirits. Hospitals and doctors are for the rich, the poor rely on healing and help from healers. These healers are respected as they help those who have nothing.85 The FCH’s view of the spiritual world as a tangible reality influences the decisions they make in their daily lives. Anthropologists have pointed out that, for example, the disregard of traffic rules can be traced to the Filipino view of the spiritual world. Melba Maggay explains: ‘Partly on the basis of our view of how the spirit world works, we sense that everything on earth can be so negotiated, including traffic rules and governance.’86 Maggay mentions that this ‘softness about the law’ may be a byproduct of the Filipino folklore that perceived the high god as good but also tolerant, and hence could be somewhat ignored.87 In the Philippines it is quite common for a person to have two or more thought and behaviour systems which are inconsistent and even oppose each other. For instance a Pastor may go to a faith healer while feeling this is not inconsistent with his religion. Theologians have pointed out that this is due to the lack of full inculturation in the faith.88 Historically in the Philippines, colonization and Christianity came hand-in-hand, which has been a major factor contributing to the ‘split-level Christianity’ we see today. Jaime Bulatao explains that a ‘split-level Christianity’ lacks congruence between what Filipinos openly confess; their actual practices and their deep level convictions. I have observed that this split-level religion often creates distance from those in religious authority.89 Having journeyed with the community for some time now, it is apparent to me that the FCH members often resort to operating in their indigenous religious belief system, especially in times of adversity.

VIII. A Community’s Description Shaping the Ecclesial Narrative This case study of a community facing homelessness is based on information emerging from the research community. It informs any understanding of the ekklêsia that is made up of community members. As the FECH are in the same

85. Cannell, Power and Intimacy, pp. 80–1. 86. Maggay, Towards Contextualization from Within, p. 43. 87. See Melba Padilla Maggay, Towards Contextualization from Within: Some Tools and Culture Themes (2005), available from http://mpmaggay.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_ archive.html (accessed 12 March 2013). 88. José M. de Mesa, In Solidarity with the Culture: Studies in Theological Re-rooting (Quezon City, Philippines: Maryhill School of Theology, 1987), pp. 27–8. 89. Jaime C. Bulatao, Split-level Christianity, Christian Renewal of Filipino Values (Quezon City, Philippines: Ateneo de Manila University, 1967), p. 8.

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interwoven complex network of relationships and part of the FCH, their empirical worlds of cultural themes, social facts, structure and inter-connectedness are basically the same. Their shared perception of social reality is forged out of their shared experiences of the same historical, cultural and physical environment that forms the narratives. They not only share the same symmetrical relationships (among each other) and asymmetrical relationships (with others and institutions, such as churches, the government, and the educational department), but their communal identities are also shaped by the same quest for survival, protection and support for each other. The FECH identity is expressed in their celebration, rituals, their collective efforts of working together and transactions of value, and in their common stories of pain, injustice and oppression. Both communities are governed by kinship and interacting with the wider Filipino social structure where those in power exclude the other. The FECH’s kinship orientation nurtures and resonates closely with the imagery of the family Dei in their ecclesial narrative. This will become obvious in the following chapter which presents their reflections on the Gospel of Mark.

Chapter 5 A C O N T E X T UA L A N D I N T E R D I S C I P L I NA RY R E A D I N G O F M A R K ’ S G O SP E L

The biblical text is often best found in the reading from the basic communities of the poor and marginalized.1

As we live in a constantly changing world the Church, as well as Christianity, is being challenged to progress, reinvent and renew itself to respond to the changes in human culture and social existence.2 Recent epistemological attention has shifted toward critical awareness of the region or locale.3 It is now widely acknowledged that context always plays a key role in meaning, and that contexts are not single or uniform, but complex, and often plural. The social landscape of theology has also shifted. Many scholars today are pointing to demographic changes that have altered Christian theology permanently. For a very long time, Christianity has been inextricably connected to the Global North (Europe and North America). However, a hemispheric shift occurred in the past century to the Global South (Africa, Asia, Latin America) that has moved the centre of gravity in the Christian world to the South.4 In today’s world, it is no longer tenable, either from within or from without, to characterize Christianity as a Western project, or to think of it in Western categories alone.5 And if we take the resulting social, demographic and epistemological transformations seriously, they should be reflected in our hermeneutical, ecclesial and ecumenical dialogues,

1. David Tracy, Plurality and Ambiguity: Hermeneutics, Religion, Hope (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987), p. 15. 2. Angela Pears, Doing Contextual Theology (London: Routledge, 2010), p. 1. 3. Volker Küster, A Protestant Theology of Passion: Korean Minjung Theology Revisited (Studies in Systematic Theology, Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2010), p. 1. 4. Arguably the most well known book on the subject is Philip Jenkins, The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2002). 5. See Kwame Bediako, Jesus and the Gospel in Africa: History and Experience (Theology in Africa Series, New York: Orbis Books, 2004), p. 115.

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especially those dialogues that intentionally seek to nurture and incorporate a multiplicity of peripheral local theologies. These local theologies are central to the study of the Church. They are born in intentional dialogue with church historical traditions, the FECH’s own Sitz im Leben and with Scripture. In Chapter  3, I interacted with several important traditional concepts on the nature and purpose of the Church. Chapter 4 revealed the historical and contemporary context of the research community. The next step in gaining insights into the ecclesiology of the FECH is describing their own hermeneutical work on Scripture. These theological and ecclesial reflections are central articulating contours that contribute to their understanding of being ‘church’ on the streets. Within a discussion on ecclesiology, Jürgen Roloff states that the New Testament discourse on the Church is to be understood as normative talking.6 Or as Martin Luther already stated, that the whole life and the substance of the Church is located in the word of God.7 The Church is creature of the Word, creature verbi.8 Before the theological motifs of the FECH’s hermeneutical work can be described, however, I need to elaborate a bit further on some important hermeneutical principles in relation to local theology, ecclesiology and the marginalized.

I. Doing Ecclesial Theology with the FECH: Hermeneutical Reflections Instead of embracing a universal theology for each context, local theologies are developed by local churches that are culturally appropriate and biblically rooted. Self-theologizing implies that Christian communities are doing theology for themselves and not just the professional theologians.9 Local theology engages with the issues and questions of their particular situation and in combination with an equally intentional re-reading of Scripture. Hence, this will nurture fresh and exciting relevant local theologies that contribute to deepening and occasionally challenging Christian tradition. These local theologies wrestle with what an authentic Christian identity looks like within a particular situation, rather than embracing a model that has been proven useful in other contexts. This is the impetus of local theologies; it equips and enables people and churches in their own theological reflections. Such local reflection is critical for developing 6. Jürgen Roloff, Die Kirche im Neuen Testament (Grundrisse zum Neuen Testament, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), p. 310. Within the discussion of the authority of the Bible as a hermeneutical foundational principle, Schweyer comments that because of Christian tradition and the Bible’s own claims, it is appropriate to maintain commitment to the authority of the Bible. See Schweyer, Kontextuelle Kirchentheorie, p. 257. 7. ‘Das ganze Leben und die Substanz der Kirche liegt im Wort Gottes’ (WA 40 III, 407, 28). 8. ‘Kirche is Geschöpf des Wortes, creature verbi’ (WA 6,561,1). 9. See Hiebert, Anthropological Insights for Missionaries, pp. 195–6, and 216–19.

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a ‘vital, coherent theology’.10 However, it is important to explore how local theologies are developed. Clemens Sedmak suggests that ‘doing local theology’ can be explained by the concept of cultural games. One might then raise the following questions: Why, where and when are these games being played? Who plays them and how are they played?11 These questions will each be addressed in the following sections as they relate to developing and articulating local theologies by the FECH. (a) Why Should there be Local Theologies? Why should a homeless person whose life has been marked by great distress, oppression, violence and abuse do local theology? Being burdened by insecurity for today, moved by hunger, desiring simple comfort and protection, why should someone invest time, energy and yes, even sometimes money to do theology? Why does the receptor community of this research stop their labour to ensure survival for a few hours each week to gather together to articulate local theology? Why, as missionaries, should we invest time to train and equip homeless ecclesial communities to do their own theologies, instead of teaching them what we know so well? All good questions that need to be addressed. The answer is in the intrinsic belief that doing theology is the connection to the source of life. As we engage in theology, on an individual or communal level, doing theology becomes a source of life, a place of healing, and encourages reflections that lead to transformation. Some of the best theologies have not been developed in safe environments such as classrooms, consultations and conferences, but in difficult life situations marked by great loss, challenges and pain. Despite brokenness, being vulnerable and wounded, we do theology because we experience the cross and hope in the resurrection.12 (b) Where and When Does Local Theology Happen? Scholars have amply demonstrated that when God speaks, either to individuals or a community, He takes into account the time and place in which they live. Where there is a village, Sedmak notes, in which the Christian community lives, there also is the beginning of theology. Theology is reflection on religious practice, which always takes place locally.13 Theology is then not only framed within the academia and seminary setting, but local theology happens from a certain perspective that engages in a particular context.14 At the same time, J.J. Mueller notes that theology 10. Petros Von Vassiliadis, ‘Orthodoxie und Kontextuelle Theologie’, Ökumenische Rundschau No. 42, October (1993), p. 452. 11. Clemens Sedmak, Lokale Theologien und globale Kirche: Eine erkenntnistheoretische Grundlegung in praktischer Absicht (Freiburg: Herder, 2000), p. 301. 12. Clemens Sedmak, Doing Local Theology: A Guide for Artisans of a New Humanity (Faith and Cultures Series, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2002), pp. 8–11. 13. Sedmak, Lokale Theologien, p. 16. 14. Sedmak, Doing Local Theology, p. 15.

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should always be communal, and therefore ‘it belongs to the life of faith in the ongoing Christian community’.15 Theology becomes a locus of a communityforming power when it takes serious their cultural setting. Only if a theology is embodied in a culture can it, according to Robert Schreiter, ‘be genuinely prophetic in that same culture. [. . .] Thus, the more contextuality rooted a theology, the more acute can be its prophetic voice and action.’16 (c) Who Does Local Theologies? As any societal context is facing questions of their times, doing local theology means addressing this inquiry. In that sense, everyone who attempts to theologically reflect on this question raising either his or her context or Scripture is doing theology. Yet Sedmak explains that there is ‘a difference between explicit and implicit theologies, between trained and untrained theologians’.17 This raises the questions: What is the role for professional theologians in the development of local theologies? What parts do the common people of God have in local theologies and how can the nature of the relationship between the theologians and the church be described? 1. The Role of the Professional Theologian. Concerning the professional theologians, Stephen Bevans describes their role as being similar to a midwife guiding the birth of theologizing with a community by providing ‘it with the perspective of tradition, to organize the people’s experience, and to assist them to articulate it more clearly’.18 This describes beautifully the requirement that theologians need to socially engage by serving the community as they come alongside with their time and resources. In other words: the social engagement precedes and is a condition for the ability of the theologian to organize local believers’ experiences and to assist them to articulate it more clearly. It is the theologians who endeavour to delineate the cultural Zeitgeist (spirit of the time). Theology should not only represent questions from the church, making it relevant to the community but as Robert Schreiter remarks, it needs to incorporate a communal talking and listening step that ‘becomes also a pedagogical process liberating consciousness and inciting to action’.19 Theology becomes an empty concept if for the theologians the community is not the source for theology20 15. J. J. Mueller, Theological Foundations: Concepts and Methods for Understanding Christian Faith (Winona, MN: Saint Mary’s Press, 2007), p. 1. 16. Robert Schreiter, ‘Some Condition for a Transcultural Theology: Response to Raimon Panikkar’, Pluralism and Oppression: Theology in World Perspective (eds Raimundo Panikkar and Paul F. Knitter; Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1991), p. 24. 17. Sedmak, Doing Local Theology, p. 13. 18. Stephen B. Bevans, Models of Contextual Theology (Faith and Cultures Series, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 7th edn, 2007), pp. 75–6. 19. Robert J. Schreiter, Constructing Local Theologies (Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, original edition 1985, 2006), p. 17. 20. Ibid.

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and is merely based on a one-directional theology that comes from the theologians to the communities of God. There is great value in the professional theologians spending time in their office researching and articulating theoretical and highly intellectual academic features of Christian faith, but it is useless if that theology does not affect life and community. It is in the pedagogical process of sensitivity to the context and an extraordinary capacity to listen to the people of God with an immersion in Scripture and churches that theology are developed that nurture liberating consciousness and spurs the churches to action.21 Engaging with the FECH in nurturing local theology, I have taken the role of the professional theologian. I aimed for a respectful and pastoral dialogue with the faith community that encouraged pedagogical listening to each other and seeking intentional steps towards reflective actions. In my view, a good theologian is someone who equips and motivates the faith community to develop local theologies and guides and deepens their faith through serving them with his/her skills and knowledge. 2. The Hermeneutical Community. One aspect of a mature church is the church’s capacity to theologize for their own context. It is the church’s ability to theologically reflect on the signs of our times (Mt. 16:3) and to examine everything to see if what is being said is God’s truth (Acts 17:11).22 The underlying theological framework that is a theology of the priesthood of all believers (1 Pet. 2:9–10) that affirms the unique mission given by Jesus Christ to his church is entrusted to all the people of God. The people of God who confess faith in Christ have been made sharers in the royal priesthood of Christ, to offer spiritual sacrifice to God, bear witness to Christ before all humankind, and participate in different capacities, skills and callings to build up the Church.23 Stephen Bevans shows that theology is done in the context of the believing community, the church. He states that ‘in the fullest sense of the word, theology is the act of a community – the church. . . . theology is faith seeking understanding together’.24 Instead of an individual professional hermeneutical approach dominating the interpretation process, a theology of royal priesthood values all people of God as the community that takes full part in the process of theologizing. Such a theology is not about the community and their Sitz im Leben, nor a theology for their community alone but rather it is a communal theology that journeys with the community and their social, political, economic and cultural context. 21. Ibid. 22. See also Bazzell, Ecclesial Identity and the Excluded Homeless Population: A Funnel Ecclesiology as a Framework of Inclusion’, Ecclesiology and Exclusion: Boundaries of Being and Belonging in Postmodern Times (eds Dennis Doyle, Tim Fury and Pascal Bazzell; Maryknoll, NY: Orbis 2012). 23. See Friedrich Bechina, Die Kirche als ‘Familie Gottes’: die Stellung dieses theologischen Konzeptes im Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil und in den Bischofssynoden von 1974 bis 1994 im Hinblick auf eine ‘Familia-Dei-Ekklesiologie’ (Roma: Editrice Pontificia Universita? Gregoriana, 1998). 24. Stephen B. Bevans, An Introduction to Theology in Global Perspective (Theology in Global Perspective Series, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2009), p. 61.

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Nancy Murphy affirms this by noting that theology starts with the amateurs and not with the professional theologians, as the latter are dependent upon the findings of the community. This dependency of the professional theologian is ‘especially apparent when one thinks of the results of communal discernment as primary source of data for theology’.25 The reality is that only a few churches have professional theologians at their disposal. Instead of relying on these professional theologies to be relevant to every particular context, doing local theology equips ecclesial communities to engage deeply with their contexts and Scripture. It is also within this communal engagement that Christian identity is formed – within the fellowship of God’s people in the church. As the focus of this research is the urban poor, I will now briefly address the process of doing hermeneutics with the poor. 3. Doing Hermeneutics with the Poor. There is no doubt that one of the greatest contributions of liberation theology is its emphasis on the ‘preferential option of the poor’. The underlying conviction is the belief that the poor enjoy a hermeneutical privilege which overshadows the perspectives of academic and ecclesiastical theologians. This implies that we seek to understand God from within history mediated through the lives of oppressed beings. If God opts for the least in the world (Gutiérrez), we probably should reassess the point of departure in theology. Instead of the corpus of abstract dogma typical of traditional theologizing that ‘sees society from the top down, from the point where [it] appears to be harmonious’,26 the call is for incorporation of ‘the view from the base’, a hermeneutical approach of rereading Scripture in the community ‘from the bottom up’.27 This research project shows that the poor bring hope to their oppressive state and provide unique readings of Scripture in ways that were hidden from our eyes before they began to engage Scripture in their Sitz im Leben. In recent years, there has been a growing interest in projects of reading the Bible with those in the margins. Journeying in an often very chaotic and even violent process of theologizing in grassroots communities actually gives credibility to our theologies. From my experience and the scholarly work produced in the last decades it is clear that the unique readings of Scripture by those living in the margins have often produced fruitful new insights. Fernando Segovia provides a further perspective on this by observing that ‘[d]ifferent readers see themselves not only as using different interpretive models and reading strategies but also as reading in different ways in the light of the multilevel social groupings they represent and to which they belong’.28 The assumption behind such a receptor-oriented interpretative model and reading strategy is the conscientization of the reader. Conscientização, a popular

25. Nancey C. Murphy, Theology in the Age of Scientific Reasoning (Cornell Studies in the Philosophy of Religion, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993), p. 196. 26. Boff, Ecclesiogenesis, p. 22. 27. Ibid. 28. Fernando F. Segovia, Decolonizing Biblical Studies: A View from the Margins (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000), p. 32.

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education and social concept developed by Brazilian pedagogue and educationalist Paulo Freire, differs from consciousness-raising. In fact, conscientization is an ongoing liberating learning process where the learner moves beyond consciousnessraising. Conscientização represents breaking through the prevailing dominant ideology in the awakening of awareness of reality and self-awareness, and especially a critical awareness of social, political, cultural, religious, and economic oppression and dehumanization.29 Those who engage in conscientization break loose from ‘the umbilical cord of magic and myth which binds them to the world of oppression’.30 This critical reflection and action becomes transformative for themselves and their oppressive situations, humanizing them for all people. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza remarks that this is contrary to the scientific ethos of biblical studies that keeps insisting that interpreters must silence their interests and ‘abstract from their sociopolitical situation in order to respect the “alien” character of the text and the historical chasm between the contemporary reader and the biblical text’.31 Fiorenza proposes rhetoric for critical emancipatory pedagogy as a practice of conscientization in biblical studies. This approach seeks to transform the field of biblical studies that mainly focuses on a scientificpositivists ethos into a rhetorical-ethical one.32 For Fiorenza,‘to achieve constructive engagement with the differences of social location and diversity of perspectives that exist both in the Bible and in our contexts, we must become aware of the pitfalls of one-dimensional thinking that seeks to use the Bible to find definite answers and to exclude different understandings’.33 Freire and Fiorenza’s pedagogy provides insights in helping those in the margins to critically reflect upon their existence and act upon it. To foster ecclesial reflection among the homeless population, we need to consider the epistemology of doing local theologies. (d) How Do People Do Local Theology? At the outset of this inquiry, it needs to be stated that the search is not for one hermeneutical method, but for an understanding of various reading strategies of doing theologies that are appropriate and insightful for the context of the FECH. Therefore, in our investigation into local theologies, we are not after constructing a perfect ‘model’ that would be applied to any context but rather the goal is to identify various parameters, characteristics and principles. Asian contextual theologies are emerging within a multiplicity of contexts, often influenced by the Asian religious matrix. These theologies are shaped by Asian daily experiences in 29. Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed (New York: Continuum, original edition 1970, 1990), p. 90. 30. Ibid., p. 175; see also Paulo Freire, Education for Critical Consciousness (London and New York: Continuum, original edition 1974, 2008). 31. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Democratizing Biblical Studies: Toward an Emancipatory Educational Space (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 16. 32. Ibid., p. 18. 33. Ibid., p. 19.

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the multireligious, multiethnic, multilingual Asian Sitz im Leben. They also engage the legacy of colonialism in the non-Western world that includes the silencing and marginalization of human expression and experience in the global South. Despite the near-universal agreement that theology has always been contextual, the epistemological methodological framework for doing such theologies remains widely debated. Sedmak points out that teaching theology is not about conveying the right ways of doing theology. Nor do we study theology to gain an understanding of the theological methods.34 The variety of approaches is for example seen in Gustavo Gutiérrez’s method of critically reflecting on the praxis embedded in every situation;35 Paul Tillich establishing ‘mutually critical correlations’ between the message and the situation;36 Grant Osborne interpreting ‘the significance of a religion or cultural norm for a group with a different (or developed) cultural heritage’;37 Stanley J. Grenz articulating ‘faith commitments within a given community utilizing the culturally conditioned categories of that community’;38 and Bernard Lonergan ‘attending to the effective and cognitive operations in the self-transcending subject’.39 These theological methods reveal the diversity of how this theological contextuality should be understood. The different approaches disclose the beautiful challenge that there is no one model of doing theology. There is no one model or approach we can learn in seminary and then apply in all contexts. Doing theology can be done in diverse ways, including being taught, written, danced, sung, sculpted, painted, even dreamt and cried.40 However, taking everything together, various guideposts can be identified that are crucial for doing theology with the FECH. These guideposts sometimes lead into a developed model for doing theology. Angie Pears suggests that models are insightful in organizing and revealing different ways of theologizing but we should not consider them as fixed or beyond development. An epistemological model can be understood as a conceptual framework within which it operates. A. Scott Moreau’s outlines are very helpful rubrics for categorizing the models and their practices of theologizing, even though he limits them to evangelical perspectives. They identify the paradigms behind various different models of contextual theology.41 34. Sedmak, Doing Local Theology, p. 11. 35. Gustavo Gutiérrez, A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2007), p. xxix. 36. Paul Tillich, Systematic Theology (3 vols; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951), pp. 3–62. 37. Grant R. Osborne, The Hermeneutical Spiral: A Comprehensive Introduction to Biblical Interpretation (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2nd edn, 2006), p. 318. 38. Stanley J. Grenz, Revisioning Evangelical Theology: A Fresh Agenda for the 21st Century (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2nd edn, 1993), p. 83. 39. See also Marc Cortez, ‘Context and Concept: Contextual Theology and the Nature of Theological Discourse’, Westminster Theological Journal Vol. 1, No. 67 (2005), p. 86. 40. Sedmak, Doing Local Theology, pp. 11–13. 41. See A. Scott Moreau, ‘Evangelical Models of Contextualization’, Local Theology for the Global Church: Principles for an Evangelical Approach to Contextualization

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Moreau organizes these categories according to their flow (a one-way flow, a two-way flow, a cyclical flow and an organic flow) that reveal four primary categories: (1) linear models,42 (2) dialogical models,43 (3) cyclical/spiral/helix models,44 and (4) organic models.45 For this study, I used the linear model of critical contextualization as developed by Paul Hiebert, with a few modifications to suit this research (see Chapter 2, ‘Towards a Method for Ecclesiology Applied in Local Contexts’).

II. Why the Gospel of Mark? There are many theological and biblical resources which would have been relevant to the sociological and theological contours of the ecclesial identity of the Filipino communities facing homelessness and which I could have used in facilitating a

(ed. Matthew Cook; Pasadena, CA: World Evangelical Alliance Theological Commission, 2010). 42. Linear models are basically a one-way flow where they follow a set number of steps in the process of doing contextualization. Moreau notes that those who have developed linear models recognize that contextualization is a process. Yet, they sometimes do not ‘expand on the recursive nature of the process’ nor do ‘they envision each of the process discrete’. Although these models use a linear flow, their starting points, the steps being outlined or followed, and goals may differ significantly from each other. Moreau provides an example of various different starting points as (1) when issues arise in the culture; (2) when the interpretation of Scripture is applied in the local culture; (3) or when one finds an eternal truth that needs to be fitted into local cultural forms’. Ibid., p. 173. 43. Dialogical models understand the nature of contextualization as a dynamic dialogue to occur between culture, the text (Bible) and the contextualizer. See ibid., p. 178. 44. The cyclical approach builds on the dialogue approaches. Moreau mentions that those who use this model understand contextualization as not a one-time process, but rather that it will be ongoing. The cyclical flow approach builds on the insights of Juan Luis Segundo hermeneutical circle (or spiral) that envision a process resulting ‘in an ever-tightening spiral that intertwines our experience of life, the text of Scripture, new ways to see Scripture in light of life experiences, and new approaches to experiencing life’. See ibid., p. 183. 45. The fourth and last models of Moreau’s categories do not have emphasis on a clear outline of step-by-step to follow as well ‘as they actually build a flexible orientation for approaching contextualization in a variety of contexts’. See ibid., pp. 187–8. Moreau further elaborates: ‘From narrative and case study approach to metaphor to comprehensive models, organic approaches establish principles of map reading rather than charting out directions from one point to the next. For example, metaphoric approaches propose a root metaphor to guide us in understanding contextualization without constraining us to a particular method: contextualization is a river that we navigate, a living tree to which we can emotionally connect, wisdom in which we grow, or a theodrama in which we improvise through life by being faithful to the divine drama of the Bible.’ See ibid., p. 188, italics in original.

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workshop of theological reflection for them. However, this study focuses on texts within the Gospel of Mark46 for the following reasons. Mark’s Gospel provides the earliest record of the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and his first followers. As ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia is central to understanding the church (see Chapter 3), the main interest of choosing to study the Markan witness is to understand the role of Jesus in relation to the community for which Mark wrote his gospel.47 Jesus is seen in the gospel as the nucleus of a community, primarily of a community of those who are ‘about him’ (Mk. 2:34; 4:10), who belong to his company.48 Mark reveals a vision for the church of a community that ‘is all that God intended Israel to be – a community that accepts his reign, as it was proclaimed in the ministry of Jesus, and is obedient to the divine command to love God and to love others. The community that believes in Jesus as Messiah and Son of God will do these things, and so follow faithfully in the footsteps of its Lord.’49 Another reason for this focus is that more recent studies of Mark’s Gospel emphasize a Jesus who gave an example of obedience to follow, despite living in a colonial oppressive society and paying the highest price of a very violent and shameful death at the hands of the religious and political leaders of his day.50 Mark also reveals the reality of the disciples’ struggles to believe and be obedient to the path Jesus identified. The issues, struggles and temptations that the early disciples encountered are viewed by the FECH as encouragements as they seek a life of true obedience, faith and fullness in response to their call to follow Christ. At the same time there is also growing interest in biblical scholarship to address the problem of the marginalized persons and communities found in the gospel of Mark. The Markan community (whether Markan readership in general, a localized community or both) were a colonized people that Mark encouraged to live by faith despite persecution, oppression and opposition. Whether Mark’s Gospel was written prior to the destruction of Jerusalem or after, whether in Rome, Galilee, or Syria; the persecution mentioned was real and present, experienced from both Jewish and Roman authorities. Mark places the rich and the powerful

46. For the sake of simplicity, I will be referring to the author of the second gospel as Mark. Whatever one’s preferred position is on the authorship of the gospel (for example, Mark being with Peter in Rome; John Mark who was companion to Paul on his first missionary journey; an unknown Christian named Mark; or a Christian teacher whose name was Mark), if the Gospel author was not very concerned about clarifying his identity, then it is reasonable to assume that neither need we be. 47. Howard Clark Kee, Community of the New Age: Studies in Mark’s Gospel (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1977), p. 11. 48. Ibid., p. 107. 49. Morna D. Hooker, ‘Mark’s Vision for the Church’, A Vision for the Church: Studies in Early Christian Ecclesiology in Honour of J.P.M. Sweet (eds J. P. M. Sweet, Markus Bockmuehl and Michael B. Thompson; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997), pp. 42–3. 50. For example, see Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2008).

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under suspicion (10:17–31), which points towards Mark’s audience consisting of the powerless poor. NT scholars have in the recent past re-examined the identity of the subalterns (the marginalized, the poor, women, and so forth) in Mark’s Gospel and placed it in a context where ‘we can sense the rumbling of those particular events’.51 David Joy’s work on reconstructing the socio-political and religio-cultural trends of Jesus’ day notes that events in Mark’s Gospel call for a re-reading of the biblical scholarship of Mark to deconstruct its various kinds of distinctiveness. Instead of considering carefully the Roman political powers and Jewish religious structure, Joy notes that traditional interpretations often only offer monolithic exegetical conclusions without really ‘considering the colonial context of the Gospel of Mark in depth’.52 A Markan investigation also necessarily includes ‘the recognition of the suffering caused by colonization’53 and seeks ‘to place the meaning of the text beyond the target of colonial conversion. Thus the relevance of the meaning of Mark in a postcolonial context can be reaffirmed.’54 Filtering through the FECH’s theological motifs, keeping in mind their postcolonial context, it is wise to carefully be aware of the local culture, social matrix and religiopolitical context for a contextual reading in their situation. Such a hermeneutical exercise in a postcolonial context requires an understanding of ‘the undercurrents and dynamics of the sociopolitical arenas in the situations’.55

III. Reading Mark’s Gospel: Hermeneutical Insights from the FECH In this section I adopted a multiperspectival emphasis by listening carefully to the FECH’s theological reflections, and an approach that is both multidisciplinary (filling in the gaps of the texts as no methodology is all-encompassing or final) and multicultural (giving special emphasis to the FECH’s socio-cultural contexts, and how they relate to others).56 This study will be mainly hermeneutical in nature; organized around a set of passages that feature theological themes that were identified as major by or for the

51. S. Freyne, ‘Jesus and the Urban Culture of Galilee’, Texts and Contexts: Biblical Texts in Their Textual and Situational Contexts: Essays in Honor of Lars Hartman (eds Tord Fornberg and David Hellholm; Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1994), p. 620. 52. David Joy, Mark and Its Subalterns: A Hermeneutical Paradigm for a Postcolonial Context (London and Oakville, CT: Equinox Pub. Ltd, 2008), p. 2. 53. Michael Prior, The Bible and Colonialism: A Moral Critique (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), p. 14. 54. Joy, Mark and Its Subalterns, p. 3. 55. Ibid., p. 5. 56. See Amos Yong, The Spirit poured out on all Flesh: Pentecostalism and the Possibility of Global Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005), p. 240.

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FECH. These themes represent their hermeneutical work on passages from the gospel and the individual and ecclesial implications within their own community, that differ from those in traditional Markan scholarship (family, honour/shame values, and supernatural world).57 Countless full-length monographs have been devoted to major themes identified in Mark, in particular, Christology, Discipleship and Eschatology. Listening to the FECH’s perspectives showed some of the lacunae in current Markan scholarship. The remainder of the section is divided into these three theological themes that the FECH identified. Their theological work clearly identified these themes and some very insightful and unique hermeneutical comments. Yet, as noted in Chapter  1, I faced several limitations in my field research to fully comprehend their articulation that the following section does not yield their full theological account. In order to better comprehend for the reader the theological motifs identified by the FECH and how it relates to their ecclesial narratives, I have put their themes and comments into dialogue with other hermeneutical paradigms and provided some personal reflections. To do so I employed various hermeneutical methods and reading strategies in elucidating the text.58 (a) Mark in Light of Family-centredness In Chapter 4 we established that kinship is a basic element of the FECH. Similar to what we read about the first century Mediterranean society,59 one is born with status, rights and relationships within society that are grounded in one’s family. It was the same for the Markan audience; kinship regulated and directed much of their interpersonal relationships and behaviour. As the FECH engaged in their contextual reading of the gospel of Mark, it became clear that not only did they make sense of each passage through this cultural lens, but they also realized that in some areas Scripture seemed to counter these cultural values. In Mark 3:31–35 Jesus introduced a new concept of family, the family of God, which seemed offensive to many in the FECH. Jesus’ own natural family questioned his sanity, as they struggled to believe his message, but Jesus put doing the will of God ahead of kinship obligations (3:20–21). For the FECH, family is all they have, and this passage challenges them. Carol’s mother Crista, a mother of six, shared her struggle that family can often become a stumbling block withholding her from

57. This does not mean that the FECH situations are overly emphasized. Most of the research questions were geared towards the text (the historical setting). As the FECH read the Gospel, they identified themes that differ from other contemporary scholars, not diminishing their view, or claiming that they are primary themes in Mark but that they are central motifs to their theological inquiry. 58. I present the passages in each theological theme sequentially within the Markan witness. 59. Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 3rd edn, 2001).

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being in the inside circle with Jesus. Family feuds or economic needs arise at that moment when gathering around the word of God is about to happen. In as much as she would want to attend the gathering, her obligation to her family hinders her from doing so. Jesus’ natural family was ‘outside’ while those who were listening to Jesus were ‘inside’ as part of his new true family (3:34). This concept is then further elaborated in Mark 4:11–12 where Jesus tells his disciples, ‘The secret of the kingdom of God has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables so that, “they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!” ’ Jesus is saying that those ‘outsiders’ are destined to remain outsiders. But instead of emphasizing the insider/outsider concept, in the eyes of the FECH the passage was a challenge to examine one’s allegiance and generated questions such as: Why do we gather around Jesus? Is the reputation and pride of my family at stake? Are there any other motives moving me towards Christ? Or do I go to him because I honestly seek to embrace God’s will for my life? For a community or context where kinship is the basis of their social world, this passage challenges the hearers’ family allegiances. It even challenges the honour and reputation of biological families (as it did in the case of Jesus’ family; see 6:1– 6). Jesus is not saying that we become a happy family if we follow God. The metaphor Jesus used for family is understood in the ancient view (and the FECH’s) to be addressing their social identity, challenging their economic security, talking about the psychological aspects of a place of one’s belonging (the primary source of one’s emotional support), and deep seated cultural values, such as family expectations, obligations and norms that shape daily conduct.60 The FECH emphasized in their reflection that Jesus is asking for a paradigm shift from a culture that is driven by the well-being of their family to giving primary allegiance to the mystery of God’s will that is at work in Jesus (1:16–20; 10: 29–30). This challenged the core value of Jesus’ culture and now also the FECH’s value of living in harmony with everyone, especially one’s own family. This allegiance to Jesus and the God whom he served, was to take precedence over the synagogue, temple, state, every interpersonal relationship and social order, and may even lead to division among blood relatives (13:12–13).61 In the midst of their plight of poverty the FECH acknowledge that one’s birth family often pursues their own interests, while the spiritual family is formed through doing God’s will. Their family’s need for daily necessities often pushes them to knowingly go against God’s will. Yet one becomes part of Christ’s family: brother, sister and mother, if one does God’s will. And doing the will of God is not easy.

60. John H. Elliott, ‘Household/Family in the Gospel of Mark as a Core Symbol of Community’, Fabrics of Discourse: Essays in Honor of Vernon K. Robbins (eds Vernon K. Robbins, David B. Gowler, L. Gregory Bloomquist and Duane Frederick Watson; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003), p. 41. 61. Ibid., pp. 43–7.

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However, the FECH’s reflection on the passage from Mark 3 was not so much about an individualized call that may require leaving their natural families for the sake of the gospel, but about how their whole family could be part of the larger spiritual family (familia Dei). In the NT it seems that in many aspects Jesus’ teachings were geared towards re-orienting the family towards becoming part of a new family in line with God’s will. In his private instruction, Jesus often used parables about the family (see Mt. 21:28–31; Lk. 15:8–10; 15:11–32; Mk. 2:19–20; Jn 3:29–30), and he talked about familial roles and responsibilities throughout his teaching (12:1–11, 7:10–13, 10:19, 13:34–36).62 Santiago Guijarro Oporto argues that, for example, Jesus’ prohibition of divorce (10:11–12; Lk. 16:18; Mt. 5:18) is a clear indicator of the importance of the natural family structure and shows that Jesus did not intend to rupture the household nor that renunciation of the family was a basic part of discipleship.63 Jesus used familial terminologies, such as ‘God as Father,’ addressing God as ‘Abba, Father,’ ‘Jesus as Son,’ ‘children of God,’ ‘brothers and sisters’. Along with other family metaphors, this ‘became a means by which to develop and communicate a Christian theology as well as constructing a church community’.64 The FECH perceived theses hard sayings not as intending to break families apart, but as a challenge to examine one’s primary allegiance to ensure that family obligations do not take precedence over God’s will. This is a big challenge for the FECH to overcome.65 For the FECH, Mark 3:34 becomes a central passage for their ecclesial narrative. The verse is a beautiful ecclesial metaphor that states τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν κύκλῳ καθημένους (‘those seated in a circle around him.’) Mark exhibits this image throughout his writing of believers gathering around Jesus. The verb συνάγω (to gather) is used five times (2:2, 4:1, 5:21, 6:30, 7:1). Great crowds ‘gather’ around Jesus to listen to his word (2:2, 4:1, 5:21). As the apostles returned from their mission trip, they ‘gathered’ around Jesus to report to him all they had done and taught (6:30). It is as the people are gathering around Jesus Christ to be obedient to God’s will revealed in Christ’s life and message that they are formed into a new family, a community gathered around Jesus Christ. 62. See Elliott,‘Household/Family in the Gospel of Mark as a Core Symbol of Community’, Fabrics of Discourse: Essays in Honor of Vernon K. Robbins (eds Vernon K. Robbins, David B. Gowler, L. Gregory Bloomquest and Duane Frederick Watson; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003). 63. Santiago Guijarro Oporto, ‘Reino y Familia en Conflicto: Una Aportacion al Estudio del Jesus Historico’, Estudios Biblicos 56 (1998), pp. 539–40; see also Sheila Marie Dugger Griffith, ‘Not Peace but a Sword! Luke 12:49–53 and Other Hard Sayings on the Family in Early Gospel Literature’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Virginia, 2004), p. 29. 64. Eva Marie Lassen, ‘The Roman Family: Ideal and Metaphor’, Constructing Early Christian Families: Family as Social Reality and Metaphor (ed. Halvor Moxnes; London: Routledge, 1997), p. 103. 65. I agree with Elliot that discipleship requires ‘a reorganization of previous loyalties and obligations’ (Elliott, Household/Family in the Gospel of Mark, p. 61), however, I disagree that this leads believers to ignore old family bonds.

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Scholars have argued that Jesus critiques the kinship structural paradigm of his time, seeking to abolish the patriarchal household and any hierarchy for the sake of establishing an ‘egalitarian’ movement.66 For example, Rosemary Ruether argues that ‘the anti-family patterns of the Gospels are underscored by tension between Jesus and his own family and hometown folk’.67 Ruether points out that the synoptic Gospels present a movement initiated by Jesus of gathering mainly marginal people ‘out of their families and occupations into a counter-cultural community. This community is seen as a new eschatological family that negates the natural family.’68 This new family of God is complete with mother, brothers, sisters and the fatherhood of God (Mk. 3:31–35, par. Lk. 8:19–21; Mt. 12:46–50; GThom 99). Furthermore, Ruether mentions that anybody who wants to be called a disciple of Jesus must disregard their traditional family (Lk. 14:26). ‘When a would-be disciple protests that he must first bury his father, Jesus tells him curtly, “Follow me and leave the dead to bury the dead” (Mt. 8:21–22)’.69 This was a shocking statement in the Jewish culture where it was a sacred religious and social duty to bury one’s family members, and seems to add weight to this antifamily view of Jesus’ teaching. I agree with Sheila Marie Dugger Griffith that the gospel of Mark emphasizes a status reversal instead of a status elimination (for example Mk. 9:35; 10:31; 10:43–44), which challenges the assumption ‘of social equality and lack of hierarchy among the disciples’.70 In either case, for the FECH, it is this fictive family that helps them re-orient their own families. The gospel of Mark teaches them that it is God’s will that creates new order and values, which re-orients the codes of conduct that shape their modalities of community living. Jesus’ invitation into this new family is not an individualistic call but a challenge for their whole family to make God’s will their highest priority. In Mark 10:29–30, Jesus is saying that whoever leaves his/her family will be greatly rewarded. The passage talks about the disciples not only leaving their families and homes, but also their livelihoods for the sake of the Gospel. These disciples will not only gain eternal life, but also an immediate hundredfold return in family and economic support (fields). The context of this passage is Peter telling Jesus that the disciples had left everything for his sake. Following Jesus they had left homes, families and their livelihoods behind. Peter, who was married (see Mark 1:30; 1 Cor. 9:5) had to leave his family behind as he followed Jesus and was sent out on missionary journeys. So Jesus encouraged them that all their sacrifices were not in vain, as they would all receive their rewards.

66. Elisabeth Fiorenza Schüssler, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad, 1983), pp. 142, 146, 151. 67. Rosemary Radford Ruether, Christianity and the Making of the Modern Family (Boston: Beacon Press, 2001), p. 28. 68. Ibid., p. 25. 69. Ibid. 70. Griffith, ‘Not Peace but a Sword’, p. 280.

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The FECH reflected on this passage and shared that as they follow Christ, even though they live in a very poor and violent environment, they experience God’s rewards in their daily lives. Rewards such as, the clean water that they are able to drink, the food that a stranger hands them at the end of the day, and safety from the rock that was thrown by a rioting gang on the streets that landed just a foot away from the head of their child. Though often these little blessings of God go unnoticed, they began to see these daily practical experiences of protection and provision as ‘reward’. They articulated that in their context, the little decisions that they make in their daily lives, like keeping their tongues from lying or their hands from stealing, so as to feed their family, opens opportunities for God to reward them. Mark 13:12–13 predicts that for Jesus’ sake, believers will experience great interfamilial conflicts. In this eschatological reality, the disciples experience persecution even from their natural families. For the FECH, this passage warns the disciples that Jesus experienced persecution from his hearers as well as his family (for example 3:31–35, 6:1–6). To the Jewish religious culture, Jesus’ teaching was offensive, and many disciples would experience hardships in their natural families. If family members demanded loyalty to them over God’s will revealed in Jesus Christ, this would naturally cause interfamilial conflicts. Jesus makes it clear in this passage that God, the father of the new family, demands the highest loyalty. This may cause familial conflicts and undermine the patriarchal kinship structure. For the FECH who daily struggle for pure survival for their own families, Mark’s gospel is teaching them a high price of following Jesus. Mark’s gospel challenges their primary allegiance of the interests of their families into an allegiance with Christ’s new family. Christ is not teaching them to abandon their kinship but rather, he challenges one’s primary loyalty, which may address kinship obligations, unequal power relations, injustice and gender issues. As kinship is central to their being, denying interest of that cultural value for the sake of Christ’s new family challenges not only the ontology of their being but at the same time develops the cultural deep seated ecclesial image of the church as God’s family. As they reflect on their faith towards God, they mention that the whole family should be involved in this process of finding a common faith in Christ.

(b) Mark in Light of Turning Shame into Honour Honour is the positive value of a person in his or her own eyes plus the positive appreciation of that person in the eyes of his or her social group. In this perspective honour is a claim to positive worth along with the social acknowledgement of that worth by others. Honour is linked with ‘face’ (‘saving face’) and ‘respect.’ At stake is how others see us, and so, how we see ourselves. Unlike Western culture, cultures in which honour is a dominant value depend totally for their sense of worth upon the acknowledgement by others as ‘honourable.’ The worst fate is to be called ‘Fool!’ and to be treated as having no value or worth (see Lk. 11:40; 12:20; 24:25). Honour, then, serves as a register

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of social rating which entitles a person to interact in specific ways with equals, superiors, and subordinates, according to the prescribed cultural cues of the society.71

Anthropological studies have noted that honour was, and, for the most part, still is the core value of Mediterranean culture.72 More specifically, scholars have elaborated on Mediterranean culture as being a ‘limited good’ society, meaning ‘any person’s gain must come through loss by others’.73 Honour in the ancient Mediterranean world was based on the approval and admiration of others; this created an environment where high status was admirable and given high priority.74 Unlike the individualistic culture of the modern West and much like the ancient Mediterranean world, the culture of the FECH determines social identity and every inter-personal interaction on the basis of honour. As honour was so central to the lives of the people surrounding Jesus, any gain or loss of it would have significant ramifications. Malina and Neyrey elaborate that in Jesus’ world there were two kinds of honour: ascribed honour and acquired honour. Honour received from others is ascribed honour (see Sirach 3:11, so from now on, I will use the Sirach NRSV), which is ‘honor that a person obtains through kinship or endowment, not because of any effort or achievement. When honor is ascribed, it is bestowed on someone by a notable person of power, such as a king or governor . . . ascribed honor derived from kinship, that is, birth into a family.’75 Acquired honour is also bestowed by others; the difference is that it is earned by an individual’s own ‘achievements, such as benefactions (Lk. 7:4–5) or prowess (Lk. 7:16–17)’.76 On the other hand, shame is often defined as the polar opposite of honour as losing the respect and regard of others.77 Proverbs 3:35 states: ‘The wise inherit honor, but fools get only shame.’ Jerome H. Neyrey states that in early Mediterranean culture, shame had both positive and negative connotations. He describes the positive aspect of shame as ‘the basic awareness of the opinion of others and the fear of their censure. In this sense, “shame” would be a virtue in a world where honour (respect, reputation,

71. Malina, The New Testament World, pp. 25–6. 72. See Ibid., pp. 27–53. 73. Anselm C. Hagedorn, and Jerome Neyrey, ‘ “It Was Out of Envy that They Handed Jesus Over” (Mark 15:10): The Anatomy of Envy in the Gospel of Mark’, Journal for the Study of the New Testament No. 69 (1998), p. 21. 74. J. E. Lendon, Empire of Honour: The Art of Government in the Roman World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), pp. 95–103. 75. Bruce J. Malina, and Jerome H. Neyrey, ‘Honor and Shame in Luke-Acts: Pivotal Values of the Mediterranean World’, The Social World of Luke-Acts: Models for Interpretation (ed. Jerome H. Neyrey; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1991), p. 28. 76. Ibid. 77. David Daube, The New Testament and Rabbinic Judaism (New York: Arno Press, 1973), pp. 301–24.

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worth) is a pivotal value’.78 A shameless person would not care about other persons, but shame could also mean that one was sensitive about one’s ‘reputation, and the opinion of others. To have shame in this sense is an eminently positively value’79 (see Sirach 26:25). This is also the same case as with the Filipino concept of hiya, which has been coined synonymous with shame. Mark’s audience lived in a world driven by the honour-and-shame culture of the ancient Mediterranean world (see Sirach 5:10–6:1). Reading the gospel of Mark without a firm understanding of the traditional concept of honour and shame would be misleading. The following sections will show how the FECH picked up on several honour-related passages that otherwise would have been missed or misinterpreted. For example, some Western scholars perceive Jesus as intentionally keeping a secret about his identity.80 In an honour-shame setting however, this may have been a way of acquiring honour in the ancient world, which includes the provision of gifts and services, including the service of healing.81 The FECH see the significance of Jesus’ ‘messianic secret’ as his true humility, that He is not blowing his own trumpet and how Mark tried to exemplify and defend Jesus’ honour. The FECH’s interpretation challenges Western exegetes to take into account how crucial the cultural perspective of honour and shame is to understanding these texts more deeply and correctly. In the previous section we saw that honour was not given to Jesus by his own family, nor was he looking for it as he was seeking and teaching about God’s honour. We addressed the tension between family and doing God’s will, and we will elaborate later how one turns shame into honour, within an honour-shame culture. First, I will consider the way Mark’s report of John the Baptist was interpreted by the FECH in light of their honour-shame cultural framework. Mark does not introduce John with a typical description of his kinship as the other Gospel writers did (see Lk. 1:5–25, 36). Rather, after describing the purpose of the Gospel as bringing good news about Jesus, Mark introduced John the Baptist by quoting from Isaiah about a voice crying in the wilderness,82 and John comes into the picture baptizing and preaching in the desert. This description is particularly about John’s role as God’s messenger who prepares the way for Jesus.

78. Jerome H. Neyrey, Honor and Shame in the Gospel of Matthew (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998), p. 30. 79. Malina, The New Testament World, p. 49. 80. In various passages (1:23–28, 34, 40–45; 3:12; 45:21–24, 35–43; 7:31–37; 8:22–26, 30; 9:9) Jesus attempts to conceal his deeds and/or identity, where William Wrede famously coined the term ‘messianic secret’. See Wrede, William, Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien: zugleich ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markusevangeliums (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1901). 81. For a comprehensive argumentation on this view, see David F. Watson, Honor among Christians: The Cultural Key to the Messianic Secret (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010). 82. Verse 2 is basically a reproduction of Mal. 3:1; while verse 3 is similar to the LXX version of Isa. 40:3, with a slightly different ending.

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The FECH pointed out in their discussions that a messenger had to come prior to Jesus’ coming. Not merely because Scripture says so, but because there is a need for one preparing the path of the Lord. Similarly, the FECH remarked that we still need messengers today to proclaim and remind us about Christ. John’s role in Mark was not simply to be the messenger preparing the path of the Lord, but to be a mediator inaugurating Jesus’ ministry through the Holy Spirit, in witness before God the Father and humankind. It is this role of mediator that the FECH are often drawn to, because it is similar to the widespread Filipino religious practice of seeing priests, pastors, missionaries and even Mary and the saints as spiritual mediators. The FECH elaborate on this concept, that due to the malevolent environment they live in, the mediators help them to be reminded about Christ and his message. The FECH reflections on the story of Herodias, Herod and John (Mk. 6:19–29) were centred on justifying the actions of Herodias and Herod. I truly struggled with Herodias’ choice of the head of John the Baptist given that Herod offered her daughter anything, up to half his kingdom. Surprisingly, the FECH seemed to associate themselves with their actions. Mark 6:19–29 is another insightful story describing how honour and shame are woven into the fabric of everyday life guiding decisions against one’s personal preferences to conform with cultural norms. Lucas from the FECH community, a father of six, stated that he would have done exactly the same as Herodias, and wait for the time when he could make up for his loss of honour. Only as John was killed, was Herodias’ face restored. Looking at the daughter, they stated that not respecting the wish of her mother would have severely damaged their relationship. On Herod’s action, they emphasized that he really had to comply with Herodias to avoid losing face in front of all his guests, even though he seemed to respect John or at least like him and knew that he was a righteous man (6:20). For the FECH, Herod was thinking of others, the people around him, and he showed integrity through honouring his promise, though his action of killing John had a high personal cost by causing him great distress (6:26). Using their honour and shame cultural perspective, the FECH’s reflection provided the framework for them to understand Herodias’ and Herod’s actions. Mark’s audience would have been engrossed in the story of Herodias’ and Herod’s shocking behaviour; they would have known the underlying kerygma of the story. John had previously spoken against Herodias’ unrighteous union with Herod (6:19). The story addressed a kinship issue, where Herod had taken his brother’s wife unlawfully. John spoke to Herod and Herodias, declaring that their marriage was against God’s will. Herodias kept a grudge and waited for the right time to seek revenge. On the other hand, even though John spoke against him, Herod respected and even feared him, as he knew John was righteous and holy. John spoke in a way that greatly intrigued Herod (6:20). However, in the crisis of real life, Herod was not able to obey the message of God, because not losing face was more important to him. For the FECH it is clear; family expectations limited his ability to respond, hindering him from making the

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right decision. Also, his high position would prevent him from taking advice from someone like John, who had much less honour than him. Many of the FECH concluded that they have been in the same situation as Herod, often choosing family over obeying God’s message. This way the FECH help us to see the core message the writer of the Gospel aimed to give in this story. He shared a story of family loyalty affecting honour and shame, in which Herod chose against God’s will. Even though it went against his own conscience, in order not to lose face, he honoured his promise. The story becomes a good illustration of someone choosing honour from those around him, while losing honour in God’s eyes. On the other hand, it seems to me that Mark may have used John’s shameful death as a precursor of Jesus’ shameful death on a cross. If John’s honour were not tainted through his death, neither would Jesus’ shameful way of death ultimately dishonour him. In either case, John the Baptist is shown as a mediator who, from the beginning (1:1), participated in the kerygma (Acts 1:22; 10:37; 13:24f). Later in Mark’s narrative (11:27–33), the elite (chief priest, elders) came to Jesus to confront him, seeking to trap him with a question about John the Baptist. In response (verse 30–32) Jesus honoured John, because John would not deny the Gospel in order to save his life. John was willing to lose honour in front of family, disciples, the crowd, and so forth, in order to give honour to Jesus and his message. Clearly, those who did not give honour to John were among those who refused to give honour to Jesus. The New Testament (Mk. 1:5), as well as other early writers (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 18.5.2. §§116–119), portrays John as somebody who was widely accepted and had powerful influence.83 He was the older cousin of Jesus and hence, was due respect from Jesus. But Mark points out that John decided to subordinate himself to Jesus (1:7–8, Q 7:18–27) in order to acknowledge Jesus’ superiority. In fact, in John’s prime time of ministry, he was known throughout the region, having influence on both royalty and the common people; and yet, he willingly faded into the background as soon as Jesus entered the scene. Even though John’s arrest was briefly mentioned in 1:14a, it is not until 6:17–20 that Mark’s audience learns about the details of John’s arrest and death. Mark writes about John’s death here in the context of Herod’s awareness of Jesus and his remorse about killing John. Even though John might have been better known and respected by the people of his time, Mark seems to insert the story of his death to further elaborate on Christ’s superiority over John. As Jesus gained status among the people, Hadgedorn and Neyrey point out John and his own (and Jesus’) disciples were not consumed with envy of Jesus.84 John was aware that ‘He must increase, I must decrease’ (Jn 3.30), even with the high cultural cost of decreasing his own honour. John’s disciples were worried about his honour but Mark displays the greatness of John in being willing to lose honour so as to add to Jesus Christ’s honour.

83. Murphy, Catherine M., John the Baptist: Prophet of Purity for a New Age (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2003), p. 41. 84. Hagedorn and Neyrey, ‘It Was Out of Envy that They Handed Jesus Over’, p. 21.

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Mark 6:1–6 is closely linked to the previous discussion on Jesus and family. Jesus returns, to his home town (εἰς τὴν πατρίδα αὐτοῦ), accompanied by his disciples (6:1). This is Jesus’ home town where people knew him from childhood or through his family of origin, like everyone else in the Mediterranean world (similar to Filipino settings). Neighbours were wondering after listening to Jesus; ‘ “Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?” And they took offense on him’ (6:3). The FECH concluded on this statement that the people thought that Jesus was a hypocrite, ‘How can he have such knowledge as he comes from that particular family and profession?’ Apart from a few healings, Jesus is unable to continue his usual ministry that had been received elsewhere with astonishment and amazement. Even though they were amazed at his teaching, knowing him and his family became the stumbling block for accepting Jesus and his message. Jesus interpreted the limited success of his ministry to the lack of honour being ascribed to him. None of Jesus’ natural family (‘own house’), his clan (‘own kin’), or city (‘hometown’) ascribed honour to him. Santos explains that for the Filipino context, this would be like Jesus experiencing ‘being unwanted (and maybe even disowned) by our own mag-anak, kamag-anakan, and angkan’.85 Jesus came to the conclusion: ‘Only in his hometown, among his relatives and in his own house is a prophet without honor’ (6:4). As the community is a neighbourhood without walls, everything in the FECH happens in the open. Each one knows the other inside out, personality, habits and character. When transformation or desire for transformation comes to one person, even though it is evident in one’s life, the community tends to see it as false because of what they know of the person from their past. I observed that their challenge is facing the shame and/or ridicule and press on to the transformation that Jesus has worked in their hearts. In Mark 7:24–3086 we encounter a Syrophoenician mother begging Jesus to deliver her daughter from the unclean spirit in her. The political and religious setting and the cultural context of this story are complex. In the Greco-Roman social context the woman’s appearance without a companion before Jesus would have been a shameful act.87 It reveals a woman who is so desperate for her daughter to be healed, that she is prepared to cross cultural and social barriers. The Jews

85. Santos, Turning our Shame into Honor, p. 104. 86. Elsewhere I have already described the FECH’s hermeneutical work on this passage in a more detailed dialogue with different approaches and possible interpretations of Mk. 7:24–30. See Pascal Bazzell, ‘A Marginal Asian Reading of Mark 7:24-30: An Inter-Faith Filipino Homeless Community’s Encounter with the Syrophoenician Woman 7:24–30’, Pathways for Dialogue in the 21st Century (Pathways for Dialogue Vol.  3, eds Gerard Mannion, Vladimir Latinovic and Peter Phan; New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). 87. Mary Ann Tolbert, ‘Mark’, The Women’s Bible Commentary (eds Carol A. Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe; London: SPCK, 1998), p. 355.

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considered her as “‘unclean” by birth, a foreigner and a female, and “untouchable” because of her daughter who is possessed by an unclean spirit’.88 Not only did she experience gender, ethnicity and religious barriers but in her own society her daughter had no great value.89 Within this gender, ethnic, economic, political and religious matrix, God’s blessing is being negotiated by both the pagan woman and by Jesus by crossing various boundaries of exclusions. The woman takes on the shameful act of approaching Jesus because her love for her daughter outweighs the cultural expectations. With this, the FECH community empathizes because this is their daily experience as they go about their livelihood. The pericope reveals that the woman’s invasive solicitation would make a man lose his honour-status, or ‘face’, which could have serious consequences in a culture of honour/shame. Nevertheless, Pui-lan Kwok notes: ‘The woman, though denigrated by Jesus, speaks in a supportive and affirmative way, for she is concerned with maintaining the relationship.’90 Actually, even though it was a shameful situation, the woman shows honour by responding to Jesus’ acquired honour that resulted from his healing and exorcism ministry. Even though what she did was shameful and Jesus was dishonoured by her approach, the story ends with the woman experiencing God’s blessings for her daughter and Jesus’ ministry being extended to that Gentile region. To my surprise and even offence, and probably most Westerners, Jesus Christ, the compassionate healer, initially rejects the woman’s request and risked further insulting her by utilizing ‘a highly disparaging metaphor, likening her to a dog’.91 This is problematic and offensive for many Western interpreters but not for the FECH. When I listened to their theological reflections on this story, they seemed to move easily beyond Jesus’ harsh words and focus upon other segments of the pericope. They did not get caught up with Jesus’ offensiveness, but they did not attempt to justify it, just as the Gentile woman did not dwell on it. The Gentile woman would have grown up in a patriarchal society, as part of an honour/shame culture. In light of this, it is not surprising that she moved easily past such an offensive and hurtful comment from Jesus. Like other poor people, she would have been accustomed since birth to being ‘looked down upon; she has shouldered all sorts of grief and sacrificed herself for the honor of men. Having been taught to remain silent, hidden, and obedient all through her life, she only hears from Jesus what she is used to hearing. His response would not upset her. On the contrary, she would be well aware that merely her appearing there is defiling and goes against

88. Hisako Kinukawa, Women and Jesus in Mark: A Japanese Feminist Perspective (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 53. 89. Sharon H. Ringe, ‘A Gentile Woman’s Story’, Feminist Interpretation of the Bible (ed. Letty M. Russell; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1985), p. 70. 90. Pui-lan Kwok, Discovering the Bible in the Non-Biblical World (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1995), p. 74. 91. Mary Ann Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel: Mark’s World in Literary-historical Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), p. 185.

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the accepted custom.’92 Maybe this yields a perspective to be learned from the poor. Perhaps scholars can learn not to play down the oppressive context, but to resist their own agendas, in order to look at the essence of the message of this story. For the FECH, the story focuses on faith, humility and tenacity. This seems to be the key to gaining help and healing. Even though they are being abused and oppressed in the process, their perspective targets the needed help, or the means to gain relief from their sufferings. It was the woman’s belief that Jesus could heal her daughter that helped her cross boundaries of exclusions in approaching him and to persevere despite resistance.93 Sandra’s reflection revealed this perspective well: that the woman did not become discouraged. That she continued to hope that perhaps Jesus would grant her request because she knew that Jesus could give her what she needed. And that it did not matter how much, but even just tasting the crumbs would free her daughter from the demon. Like the woman, the FECH will keep asking until they are granted their request, not with an attitude that says, ‘I deserve it!’ but with humility because they need it. Fely, a grandmother, shares that they just have to continue to hope and pray without ceasing because God really hears their prayers; and at times it is the only way they know, it is the only option they have. The response Jesus gave nurtures an engaging self-reflection in the woman about her geopolitical and socio-cultural context ‘in that Jesus’ answer is not a definitive “no”, but a proverb, perhaps an existing saying, cast as an argument that invites further response’.94 In the context of the poor, we often observe that they develop a ‘reflexive oppression’. I have elsewhere elaborated on the human’s reflexive capacity, which means that people see themselves and live out their lives according to that perception. Since sin entered humankind, everybody has been born with some sort of distorted reflexive capacity. However, we often see in the poor a ‘reflexive oppression’ through developing a pattern of deception that reinforces their emotional and cognitive levels of shame and low self-esteem, until they believe the oppressive ideology that they are worth less than those who label them.95 Jesus’ reply created an engaging self-reflection in the woman about her own social situation. The FECH, consisting of members from various religious backgrounds, prefer to emphasize a Christology that is very inclusive in this passage.96 This Christology not only bypasses conventional racial frameworks97 but also inter-religious barriers. This inclusive Christology does not require the Gentile woman to become

92. Hisako Kinukawa, Women and Jesus in Mark: A Japanese Feminist Perspective (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 58. 93. Matthew L. Skinner, ‘ “She departed to her house”: Another Dimension of the Syrophoenician Mother’s Faith in Mark 7:24–30’, Word & World Vol. 26, No. 1 (2006), p. 14. 94. Lawrence D. Hart, ‘The Canaanite Woman: Meeting Jesus as Sage and Lord: Matthew 15:21–28 and Mark 7:24–30’, The Expository Times Vol. 122, No. 1 (2010), p. 24. 95. Bazzell, Toward a Creational Perspective on Poverty, pp. 234, 236. 96. Ringe, A Gentile Woman’s Story, p. 70. 97. Joy, Mark and Its Subalterns, p. 161.

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Jewish, or a Christian. Even though she probably belongs to another faith tradition, the emphasis is not on a change of religious allegiance, but on an inclusive Christology that moves beyond doctrinal and religious differences. ‘It does not matter from which religion one is from, we respect it, we can learn from each other,’ remarked FECH member Lorna. For the FECH, their inter-faith dialogue occurs within this framework of an inclusive Christology that nurtures their religious and sometimes multi-religious identity without a requirement to convert to each other’s religion or doctrine. Meaning that even though the individual families of the FECH would institutionally feel closer to different traditions – some are Catholics, some are Protestants and a minority even Muslims; yet, their ecclesial language has always been along the line of being One faith community as there is only One God. Moreover, just as the woman did, so are the FECH willing to cross religious barriers in order to reap the benefits of Jesus’ work. In the passages discussed above one sees a theme emerging of Jesus explaining a reversal of a cultural value where one may gain all honour on earth but lose one’s soul. On the other hand, one who is being shamed on earth for the sake of Christ will find honour in God’s presence with the holy angels. This challenges the FECH to deeply consider what it means to put one’s full faith and trust in God. As Jesus invites his followers to join his family, the familia Dei, he teaches them about finding honour in that new kinship structure, rather than living by the norms of their natural families. Contrary to the limited good society, where honour is only for an elite group at the expense of others, in Christ, honour is ascribed to those who enter the familia Dei by faith. This is the hope that the FECH are holding on to. In their position in society now, they long for the honour that would be ascribed to them as they enter the familia Dei. For the FECH, one of the key questions that emerged as they engaged with the Gospel of Mark was: ‘Am I willing to do God’s will, even when it means bringing dishonour to my family? Will I do God’s will, even when this means I lose face?’ The violent environment in which the FECH live means the survival of the fittest. The tough reign, the strong survive, the witty get through, and the humble live. In their context, where they live defines how they act; how they act shows who they are. A shift in how they act is labelled hypocrisy. Each one has to keep their face/ status to keep what honour they have acquired. In this socio-cultural context Mark brings a beautiful perspective in which those who are shamed for him now will be honoured by the ‘Son-of-Man’98 before the Father. Jesus gives his disciples a new vision of honour, one that means experiencing shame in order to gain honour. 98. For the FECH, Mark’s interplay of Jesus being the ‘Son-of-God’ and ‘Son-of-Man’ is an emphasis on both his divinity and humanity. The Son-of-God referring to the spiritual being, the Messiah that God has sent, while the ‘Son-of-Man’ (or Son of David, Mk. 12:37) emphasizes the physical lineage of the promised Messiah. For the FECH, the ‘Son-of-Man’ describes Jesus’ humility through identifying with human beings. Jesus referring to himself as the ‘Son-of-Man’ also reveals some of his human limitations, especially when it comes to authority, power and knowing all things. At the same time, in both terms, the emphasis lies in the Sonship where God is his father.

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Narry Santos explains that Jesus used the cultural honour-shame terms of his time to communicate his transformed social values to his disciples. He used the same language, but changed the meaning to what is honourable and shameful in God’s eyes.99 Mark illustrates that what they view as honourable (for example setting their mind on human things) will be regarded as shameful (even satanic). Therefore, in Jesus’ new social order, what usually has been publicly disregarded (for example setting the mind on divine things) must now be acknowledged as being honourable in the eyes of God. The aim of discipleship then is to foster these honour values that truly nurture transformation.100 There are three main conditions to be followed for the reversal of honour values to occur: ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me’ (8:34b). Santos illuminates that this means: ‘(1) in denying ourselves, we must give up our will in favor of God’s will; (2) in carrying our own cross, we must face the negative shame and disgrace of following Jesus; and (3) in our actual following of him, we must be ready to share in the same fate as Jesus’.101 Mark instructs us to give our primary loyalty to seeking God’s honour, as attempts to seek the world’s honour will result in experiencing shame in eternity. The passage of Mark 9:34–35 gives further insight into the paradoxical nature of this reversal of honour values. Sandra shared her difficulty and struggle of really following Jesus; in as much as she would want to, life’s troubles and their family situation encumbers her to fully do so. She was relieved that the disciples also struggled and encouraged that they pressed on despite their failings. The FECH found comfort in the reality as Mark further exposed the shortcomings of the disciples. The disciples struggled to comprehend fully what it means to follow Christ; the account of their weaknesses and failings provides a human perspective to the reality of following Christ. For the FECH, honour is directly related to status. The disciples argued with each other because Jesus did not appoint one of them as leader. As with the Markan audience, the FECH always questioned status and rank because it is associated with power. The narrative reveals a cultural struggle to find out who had the most honour. If nobody is the leader, how should they then define who has greater honour among them? In the FECH community, the one who is given a leadership role has authority and who has authority has status, even if undeserving. It is always a struggle when a group comes to the community to extend help and appoints one member as the point person. Conflicts arise, questions on his/her integrity surface and power struggle happens. Thus, the FECH found it significant that Jesus offered his own life as an example, making himself nothing, in order to serve them. As the disciples were longing for authoritative honour, Jesus told them the paradox of power and humility ‘expressed in the contrasting pair of “being first” and “being last”. This contrast emphasized 99. Santos, Turning our Shame into Honor, pp. 183–4. 100. Ibid., pp. 178–9. 101. Ibid., p. 179.

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the reversal of values required by Jesus from his disciples. The reversal of values was Jesus’ way of attaining social precedence. Jesus’ way to be first challenged the disciples’ way to gain greatness.’102 The climax of Jesus turning shame into honour was reached when he submitted himself to the shameful death that led to an honourable triumph in his resurrection. Santos explains that Mark reverses the negative shame of the passion, trials, denial and death of Jesus into honour in three ways: ‘(1) contrasting characters with “old” honor-shame value system (12:38–40) to characters with “new” value system (12:41–44); (2) showing that Jesus remains to be regarded as the authoritatively honorable one, whose honor cannot be thwarted by the opposition of the religious leaders nor by the failures of his own disciples. We see the intentional inclusion of Jesus’ self-designated, ascribed titles of honor, and confessions (for example, Son of Man [13:26], Christ [14:61b], the Son of the Blessed One [16:61c], I am [14:62a], King of the Jews [15:26], Son of God [15:39]); (3) setting in contrast the honorable response of Jesus and the dishonorable reaction of other characters (for example, Jesus’ silent courage and steady humility [14:53–65] as opposed to Peter’s deafening denial and impulsive cowardice [14:66–72]). These narrative reversals help us see the positive in negative shame, and the honor in humility.’103 For the FECH, this passage further reveals the honourable humility Jesus exhibits in his life and expected from his disciples. They conclude that if we live humbly in this world, we are seen as great in the eyes of God. And it is through this humility that one should serve others, repressing one’s pride. The community gathering around the word of God appointed elders, whom they called tig-alagad (servants), to lead them in the Bible study. Mark illustrated that it is in this honourable value of humility that we can find greatness in God’s eyes. In my observation, it seems that the FECH read and heard Mark’s depiction of Jesus as the honourable one as someone who teaches them about daily struggles of honour and shame. I have never heard the FECH talking about guilt in the eyes of God, but instead, their reflections are centred on how they are shaming God. The things they do that shame God affect their relationship with God and so distance them from God. However, putting full faith in Jesus erases the sinful actions of one’s life and restores relationship. In all of these, Jesus is emphasized as a role model where his shameful suffering turned into an honourable triumph. The FECH especially note that this is because he suffered not for his own sake but for others. Mark exhibits this reverse value through the life, ministry and teaching of Jesus. It is a challenge to those who follow Christ. It involves an embrace of suffering, by taking up one’s cross to express full loyalty to God. Despite cultural or religious expectations that might be contrary to honouring God; Jesus asked, ‘Who do you say I am?’ It is a question that demands acquired honour for Christ, and for his new fictive group. Those who ascribe honour to Jesus will be called

102. Ibid., pp. 189. 103. Ibid., pp. 217–18.

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brothers and sisters and enjoy a new social identity found in God’s family. Though the disciples’ cultural desire was for honour, power and glory, Jesus taught them that true honour involves humble service for the sake of others. According to the FECH, when the disciples or the masses wanted to bestow acquired honour upon Jesus in response to his ministry and teaching, Jesus silenced them in order to ensure that early on in his ministry he would not be given political power. Although Jesus was operating within the dominant cultural frame of honour and shame, he still chose to embrace earthly suffering and shame for greater (eternal) honour, an honour that is embedded within God’s family, a sign of the Kingdom of God. (c) Mark in Light of the Supernatural World Impacting the Empirical World As the FECH examined the gospel of Mark, it was evident that their understanding of the spiritual world guided their hermeneutical work. To the FECH, spirit beings are not mere myths. As already seen in the previous chapter, they are part of their daily lives and exist in the physical world around them. Anybody examining first century views on the supernatural world will see that there are actually quite a few parallels with the FECH’s views on Demonology, Satanology and Angelology. Clinton Arnold points out that in the first century ‘[t]he belief in spirits crossed all religious, ethnic and geographical boundaries. The Jews, Greeks, Romans, Asians and Egyptians all believed in spirits who populated the heavens, the underworld and the earth.’104 Even Rudolf Bultmann, who advocated a demythologized reading of the Bible stated: ‘There is no reason to doubt that the early Christians regarded these powers as real demonic beings.’105 The early Church believed that angelic and demonic beings were created by God.106 Jesus relating to the spiritual world (for example to the Holy Spirit, demons, Satan, angels) as narrated in Mark 1:12–13, where we read about the Holy Spirit leading Jesus into the desert, Satan tempting him, and the angels attending to his needs. Mark’s record of Jesus’ encounters with unclean spirits verified the FECH’s belief in their existence. This provides a theological framework to describe the FECH’s understanding of the spiritual world. In Mark 1:12–13, the FECH members found confirmation of the functions of angels to help humans in their journey. Because they believe in the coexistence of the spiritual world with the physical world, their views of spiritual beings are not

104. Clinton E. Arnold, Powers of Darkness: Principalities and Powers in Paul’s Letters (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1992), p. 19. 105. Rudolf Bultmann, Primitive Christianity in Its Contemporary Setting (trans. R. H. Fuller; New York: Thames and Hudson, 1956), p. 190. 106. For example, see Basil, ‘On the Holy Spirit’, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Second Series (Basil: Letters and Selected Works, ed. Philip Schaff; New York: Cosimo Classic, 2007), p. 23; and Origen, ‘De Principiis’, The Ante-Nicene Fathers: The Writings of the Fathers Down to A.D. 325 (ed. Reverend Alexander Roberts; New York: Cosimo Classics, 2007), p. 266.

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just stories but realities that have been experienced. They see angels as protectors of the children of God, especially in times of trial. Just like the rock thrown by rioting gangs that landed inches away from their child’s head, it was an angel that protected the child. Angels watch over the servants of God and may guide one in a time of decision-making, and enlighten one’s thoughts. Fiona testified that when a bystander confronted her about their Bible study gathering, the angel guided her how and what to answer calmly. Sometimes angels take on the form of humans. The passerby who handed them a bag of food to share on the very night that income was low was an angel in human form. They are there to listen and stand behind us, thus many of those who have Catholic backgrounds pray to angels. During Jesus’ trial, God sent his angels to minister to him. The angels never left Jesus, which showed the FECH that angels are there with them to protect and keep them strong during times of temptation as well. According to them, as the angels attended to Jesus, we can rest assured today that God’s love is still with us and He sends angels to be with us. The FECH see the Markan witness showing Jesus with great power over demons. Mark 1:21–28 records that the demon cried out to him, ‘What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?’ (1:24). Jesus demonstrated his great power in that he easily cast out even a thousand demons (5:1–20). In the story of the Syrophoenician woman (7:24–37) the mere words of Jesus declaring her daughter being freed were enough, showing how powerful he is. Nothing can overcome Jesus’ power. It transcends everything, including the environment (4:35–40). The FECH note that this power was given to him by his Father; given through God’s love to address both spiritual and material needs. They state that Jesus being all-powerful is a witness to us that he is God, and this strengthens our faith. His authority and power was given to the disciples, and still today, they are being given to those who believe and pray. We are given his authority so that we cannot easily be swayed by Satan’s temptations. Though the FECH know and acknowledge these truths, they often express difficulties to constantly hold on to that truth that they may be able to apply it in their lives. From their studies on Mark’s Christology the FECH concluded that Christ is ‘all-powerful’. Christ, having experienced hardships, temptations and encounters with the supernatural realm, came out victorious, a sign of God’s righteousness and strength. At the same time, the FECH noted that these encounters (for example with the demon-possessed man in Mark 5:1–20) revealed Christ’s compassion and generosity. With hope they stated that if the demons’ request to be transferred into the pigs were granted, how much more would God hear their pleas to Him, as they are special to Him because He created them. Mark 3:20–30 tells the story of teachers of the law naming Satan as Beelzebub (3:22) and in Mark 5:1–20, Jesus asked the demon-possessed man for his name. For the FECH, Satan followed God’s footsteps in giving names to all his followers. They believe there are different names for the different kinds of demons, depending on their cruelty or degree of evil. Analysing each culturally constructed spiritual medium recognized by the FECH (for example big black being (agta), shape changer (maligno), white lady, huge man in the tree (kapre), small people (ingkanto),

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etc.),107 indicates a common belief that although they take different forms, roles and names, they are all demons. And for the community, they are real and live among us. For the FECH it is clear that a hierarchy exists in Satan’s kingdom. Demons are there to follow Satan’s commands, and they work for him. The FECH generally believe that demons and Satan are fallen angels and are now cursed by God. They are all evil and Satan is the most evil of all; the other demons follow his command to do evil. Satan was a jealous angel who wanted to be above God and is the mastermind of evil, while demons are the ones who enter into humans. According to the FECH, God created Satan and the demons, and gave them free will; Satan and the demons choose to do evil. Consequently, God has given them permission to do bad. It is now in Satan and the demons’ nature to always do evil. Evil in nature, Satan is the king of darkness who seeks angels and humans who will follow his lead. It is against his character to do good. He wants our worship for his own glory. Characterized as a tempter, Satan’s whole purpose is to seek ways to frustrate God’s plan. The FECH noted in the Parable of the Sower (4:1–20) Satan and his followers actively aimed to find distractions while the Word of God is being preached and God’s kingdom is being built. Reflecting on the reason why Jesus was sent into the wilderness (1:12–13), the FECH presumed God knew that Jesus, his Son, would obey Him. The testing was for Satan to see God’s plan unfolding and to prove what God said about His Son was true. The story tells of Satan scheming various ways to tempt Jesus, but to no avail, revealing his limited power. In Mark 8:33, Jesus rebuked Peter and called him ‘Satan’ when he proposed a different plan to God’s. Even though Peter’s intention of finding a way for his master to avoid suffering seemed good, yet because it was against God’s plan, Jesus associated it with Satan’s aim to frustrate God’s plan. The FECH concluded that Jesus showed Satan that whatever his physical state, or however hard the trials, Jesus would win the ultimate victory. Mark 5:1–20, is one of the narratives where Mark records how Jesus exorcizes demons (1:23–28; 7:24–30). Jesus was even accused by the teachers of the law of being ‘possessed by Beelzebub’ (3:22). For the FECH, demon possession can be a sin of their ancestors from four generations back. Possession occurs in the heart and mind through giving permission to the demons. This occurs through entertaining destructive behaviours and negative emotions that start to rule one’s 107. Anthropologists have documented various spirit possessions or analogous experiences and belief systems of the supernatural world. Therefore, these beliefs or experience are not only limited to what Scripture describes, or merely to the ancient Mediterranean world, but they are widespread cross-cultural experiences, ‘as any reader of ethnographies knows’. See Erika Bourguignon, ‘Spirit Possession Belief and Social Structure’, The Realm of the Extra-Human: Agents and Audiences (ed. Bharati Agehananda; The Hague, Netherlands: Mouton, 1976), pp. 17–26. These experiences of the spiritual world may be expressed and interpreted in different ways to their unique cultural blend, however, as Craig S. Keener argues, that a range of phenomena attested by the modern western interpretations actually appears to be cross-cultural. See Keener, Craig S., ‘Spirit Possession as a CrossCultural Experience’, Bulletin for Biblical Research 2 No. 20.2 (2010), pp. 215–36.

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thinking, which gives the demon permission to take over. For the FECH, demons observe humans and when their resistance is weak, they grab that opportunity to feed on negative thoughts and emotions. Those who are possessed become tempters of others and aim to do harm. The story in Mark 5:1–20 reveals the purpose of the demons to destroy the lives of humans. According to the FECH, the demons want people to suffer, because they want humans to feel their suffering. As they experience excruciating suffering, so are they delighted when people suffer. They enjoy seeing fear in people and they want to spread temptation and evil among humans. When Jesus asked Peter, James and John to stay awake and pray at Gethsemane (14:32–42), it was so that they would not be won over by Satan’s temptations. For the FECH, it is prayer that will help them through times of trial and temptation.108 They stated that they need prayer against demons who have power not only to tempt, but also cause sickness. Sometimes, FECH members believe they get sick when they accidently hit a spirit who lives in a tree and so they need to appease them. They pray to God for healing, but also take matters in their own hands by ‘asking forgiveness’ from these spirits and provide an offering, usually some rice, to cure their sickness. Therefore, for the FECH, spiritual mediums do not merely exist in the spiritual world, but are also intertwined with the physical world. To those who perceive themselves to be modern thinkers, the discussion above relates to a primitive era that has little to do with our scientific understanding of the world. Rudolf Bultmann points out that the biblical languages of these spiritual beings (mystical) belonged to the first century epoch that is no longer relevant to a contemporary scientific understanding of the world.109 He argues for a demythologizing (Entmythologisierung) method that interprets all mythological elements in Scripture existentially in terms of the existence and the cultural view of the readers.110 Bulmann points out that within the NT, the kerygma, that is the message of God’s decisive act in Christ, is contained in myth but not dependent on its mythological form.111 Therefore, it is crucial to demythologize these myths so as to understand the kerygma as ‘revealed word expressed in the New Testament and made concretely present in the proclamation of the church’.112 108. One FECH member states: ‘For today, there are so many temptations around in every single minute, this verse is for us, because we have to stay alert and pray that we will not fall into these temptations.’ Another one comments: ‘We can ask God in prayer to give us strength to resist the devil.’ 109. Rudolf Bultmann, ‘On the Problem of Demythologizing’, New Testament and Mythology and Other Basic Writings (eds Rudolf Bultmann and Schubert Miles Ogden; Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1984), p. 95. 110. Rudolf Bultmann, ‘New Testament and Mythology’, New Testament and Mythology and Other Basic Writings (eds Rudolf Bultmann and Schubert Miles Ogden; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), p. 9. 111. Ibid., p. 12. 112. Schubert Miles Ogden, Christ Without Myth: A Study Based on the Theology of Rudolf Bultmann (New York: Harper, 1961), p. 25.

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I admire Bultmann’s hermeneutical approach of seeking ways to identify the kerygma in Scripture in a relevant way to his modern readers. I would not agree, however, that its primary premise of Scripture as myth is fundamental to contemporary theology,113 particularly within the Philippine context. Even though our thoughts, language and habits are socially constructed, Robert E. Moses is right to note that ‘Bultmann’s own demythologizing interpretation is itself also a “myth” – albeit a twentieth century myth, a perspective only possible within his twentieth century matrix’.114 Moreover, it is a simplistic assumption to assert that contemporary people do not believe in the supernatural realm, especially as the majority of Christians today live in the southern sphere, where people are often very open to the spirits. In this discussion, it is probably best to keep in mind what Hiebert termed the ‘Flaw of the Excluded Middle’ as it provides an excellent contrast of ‘organic analogy’ and ‘mechanistic analogy’ worldviews. The latter refers to the modern reader being influenced by the scientific worldview that draws a line between ‘this worldly’ (entities and events as occurring in this world and university) and the ‘other worldly’ (entities and events occurring in some other worlds and in other times). By contrast, the former would see a unified reality of being, a continuum of existence that includes the supernatural and natural in a single system.115 Therefore, mutual dialogue is necessary with each other to help clarify our own philosophical assumptions. Those operating within a more organic worldview need to be careful of not developing a Christianized form of animism, while those operating in a more mechanistic worldview may end up with a merely secularist Christianity. I conclude with C. S. Lewis’ insightful comment: There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight.116

IV. Learning from the Theological Motifs of the FECH The FECH’s theological motifs interact with those of the original readers and contemporary interpretative aims to provide insights into Mark’s Gospel. The FECH listened to the gospel being read, since many are illiterate. They have identified major theological themes (family, honour/shame cultural value and 113. Paul Tillich, ‘The Present Theological Situation in the Light of the Continental European Development’, Theology Today Vol. 6 October (1949), p. 306. 114. Robert Ewusie Moses,‘Powerful Practices: Paul’s Principalities and Powers Revisited’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Divinity School, Duke University, 2012), p. 26. 115. Paul G. Hiebert, ‘Flaw of the Excluded Middle’, Missiology Vol.  10, No.  1 (1982), pp. 35–47. 116. C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 2001), p. ix.

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supernatural world) that modern readers might miss, or under-emphasize. Many modern readers may follow a linear progression through Mark’s narratives, in contrast to Mark’s audience and the FECH who are attuned to a different set of oral hermeneutical skills. The FECH heard narratives that addressed their everyday socio-cultural issues of the supernatural, family and cultural values of honour and shame. If one shifts allegiance to follow Christ, this will have serious socio-cultural implications for one’s codes of conduct, it will create a new social order and involve participation in a new social identity found in Christ’s family. The ‘power’ motif may have been crucial to Mark’s audience, as well as to the FECH. The spiritual world is very real to the FECH and is closely connected to their lives. This creates fear, or at least, respect for the unseen. If Christ did not address this reality of the unseen, and thus provide assurances of his power over all the demonic forces, many of Mark’s audience and the FECH would probably struggle to put their faith in Christ because of their fear of the unseen. In addition, the FECH mentioned that discipleship meant that Christ not only equipped his followers but also taught them about walking in God’s power and authority. In the ancient society where one’s family reputation either helped or hindered daily transactions of life, families were always concerned about the honour of their names. As Santos rightly claims, ‘Mark used the first-century Mediterranean cultural concept of honor and shame, in order to show God’s view on what is truly honorably and really shameful’.117 Mark’s hearers may have viewed the reversed value system embodied in Jesus life, teaching and ministry as a contrast to Roman imperial values, just as the FECH perceive it in contrast to kinship loyalties and obligations. Mark portrays the family as an ecclesial metaphor of the community of those who do God’s will. This study revealed that family, as an image of Church, is not something new per se. The Hebrew Bible already used this metaphor. However, until recently, this image was on the periphery and was overshadowed by more prominent images and models of the Church. Nevertheless, God’s family as ecclesial metaphor is central to the FECH’s identity, mission and place. It resonates closely with their cultural and historical context and it also provides an important transformative discourse for the contemporary ecclesial and socio-political reality in the Philippines.

117. Santos, Turning our Shame into Honor, p. 99.

Chapter 6 T OWA R D S A FA M I L IA DE I E C C L E SIO L O G Y

The previous sections have built the foundation that now enables a description of the ecclesiology that emerges from the ecclesial life of the FECH.1 The focus here is not on asking the FECH to contextualize church, rather, they were asked to describe God’s presence as they see it currently being manifested in their midst. The FECH’s deepening ecclesial self-understanding is developed through their ecclesial identity, mission and place within their society. The FECH’s selfunderstanding of ‘church’ describes their local theology of church. These local theologies are essential in the process of the church in the Philippines also becoming the church of the Philippines. This can only occur if the Filipino church develops a theology of being a church in and of the Philippines, addressing and responding to Filipino realities. The FECH’s case study generates data and implications that express ways of being and becoming a church in the Filipino context. The following description of the ecclesial reality of the FECH uses the ecclesiological framework of God’s new family (familia Dei). In this chapter I argue that this ecclesial framework resonates not only closely with their cultural milieu, but also with being and becoming a church in the Philippines. The local ecclesiological method describes the research journey undertaken to attend theologically to the sociality embodied ecclesial narrative of the FECH. Ecclesiological methods subsequently provided the lens through which I am able to define the Church. In Chapter 2, I pointed out that many approaches to the task of ecclesiology are framed solely in an idealist way (‘blueprint ecclesiology’) or by reference to Biblicist, communio, eschatological, and trinitarian ecclesiologies. These may create abstractions that remove the Church from its concrete identity. The NT avoids a precise definition of Church. This study thus takes the position that there is no one pure and perfect ancient Church identity, practice and structure, which all churches today need to be restored to. To seek an ideal model is to promote an abstraction of the Church that dicounts its empirical reality, and makes a false distinction between what the Church is and what it is conceived to be.

1. The FECH have not attempted to describe their ecclesiology. As I have gathered data, I now attempt to describe their ecclesial life ecclesiologically.

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I. A Local Ecclesial Theology of the FECH In Filipino theology, ecclesiology seems not to have a high priority on the theological agenda, which may be due to the strong sense of search for self-identity. Yet, the search for a Filipino ecclesiology might nurture practices, language, structures and theology that not only contribute to a culturally deeply rooted ecclesial identity but inevitably to finding ones-self. A Filipino ecclesiology may help to work through the colonial consciousness of loosing one’s soul in finding identity not only in a Filipino way of relating to God (local theology) but also as a faith community relating to each other and God (ecclesiology). The description of the ecclesial contours of the FECH aims to move beyond the popular dialogue of how communal identity and practice are culturally appropriate (the church’s identity). Too often we stay within one discourse, namely, if a church is what a contextual church ‘should’ look like, so that we forget the place and role of the church in its larger context. This study focuses on the ethnographic voices of the FECH which identify and describe ecclesial metaphors of the family of God as they closely relate to their ecclesial identity, mission and place in society. (a) Contextual Challenges The first step towards describing the developing ecclesiology is to identify and examine the FECH’s contemporary context. Churches are always part of the social fabric of societies. Not only do they absorb cultural influences, but if they move into their intended places and mission, they can contribute to transformative discourse within society. Therefore, the theological-sociological examination of the Church in society should always be integral to the study of ecclesiology. These examinations produce ‘knowledge’ about how social and structural forms in a society influence and interact with each other. In other words, one aim of ecclesiology should be to examine the social factors confronting and forming the church in order to examine the church’s identity in dialogue with Scripture and the tradition that shapes the Church’s place and prophetic voice. This study involves asking how the FECH absorbs influences from its environment, and how the FECH in turn employs these influences. In order to understand the FECH’s identity it is necessary to examine the various outside multifaceted entities influencing their social reality. This builds upon the findings of Chapter 4 that provided descriptions of the external and internal factors that influence their social entity. The first challenge the FECH face is their historical context. Even though the FECH is part of the body of Christ, power issues prevent them from participating and genuinely dialoguing with any institutional church. When asked how people use religion today, the FECH mentioned they usually use it ‘to gain respect from others’ or ‘to gain power over others’. The FECH often find themselves in a marginal situation where other social organizations, including the institutional church, exercise power over them. Sometimes, the power located in these institutions further nurtures oppression and injustice towards the FECH.

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Even though the Philippines does not traditionally have a caste system, its colonial consciousness results in a system that allows only a few to move up socially. Their social interactions, as well as those of other Filipino institutions, are influenced also by the post-colonial historical context. The socially regulated norms that are in place often demonstrate underlying neo-colonial cultural biases and prejudices. The imperial value of power is deeply embedded within the culture, and it has shaped the institutional church in the Philippines. Unlike many Western countries where the influence of religious institutions on society has greatly decreased, in the Philippines, the institutional church still holds societal power, with strong influence on the different sectors of society. For example, during elections, politicians seek favour from church and cult leaders, knowing that their endorsements will yield millions of votes. It appears that the church’s societal power often operates out of the colonial mindset of the culture. As I will further elaborate below in the section on the mission of the Church, this colonial subconscious yearning for societal power affects the religious leaders in the Philippines and thus discourages the nurturing of a prophetic voice for society. The second challenge is environmental. Chapter 4 described how the over-all pattern of the environment often impacts the social life of the FECH negatively. Living on the streets creates unique tensions and struggles that are not experienced in residential communities and affects their ecclesial identity. Instead of fostering their gathering as a church, the environment often obstructs community formation. For example, heavy rain often prevents them from meeting as an ecclesial community. The harshness of their environment takes a toll on all aspects of life. The environment creates many difficulties – nights when the streets are flooded, the cold season and the dirtiness of street life fostering sickness, or financial trouble – all contribute to a lifestyle of mere survival that impinges on the FECH’s ability to be an ecclesial community. These environmental challenges greatly limit not only the cognitive development of the children but make it difficult for the FECH to focus on their studies of the Word of God, thus also limiting ecclesial development. In addition, the government’s limited tolerance of their residency on the streets, and the chaos of street life, adds psychological stress, creating a lifestyle of constantly being at the mercy of others. Street life is a tiring cycle of the struggle of helplessness and quest for survival. It takes a lot of personal and communal energy to face these environmental challenges in developing their ecclesial identity. (b) Theological Criteria My second step towards describing the developing ecclesiology of the FECH is to examine the empirical reality of the Church as it is revealed in the Church’s identity, mission and place. The theological data of Chapter 5 identified three important themes articulated by the FECH: family, the cultural value of shame/honour and the supernatural world. These themes are central to the FECH, which also makes them important for the wider discussion of their ecclesial reality.

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1. The Church’s Identity in Society. The leading question in this section concerns the core identity of the FECH. Describing the FECH’s self-understanding as church is a complex endeavour as I indicated before. An ecclesial identity is always in process, incorporating the experiences of the past and building towards a future, drawing on Scripture and tradition and re-interpreting the cultural symbols within its milieu. Therefore, the description that follows will be neither complete nor comprehensive. It will give a picture of a developing ecclesial identity in a particular time and place. In Chapter 3, we learned that every church embraces images, metaphors and models that resonate within its historical Sitz im Leben. It is natural for the church to adopt some familiar images as it aims for the inculturation of the Gospel within a particular context. The local ecclesiological methodology employed in this research sought to narrate the story of the FECH. For the FECH, the basic framework for an appropriate understanding of the church is developed as a gathering of τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν κύκλῳ καθημένους (‘those seated in a circle around him’ [Jesus]) who are doing God’s will (Mk. 3:34–35). It is a narrative of Christ being fleshed out in their midst as the family of God (creating a tension of Christ taking form in, among and through them) and fleshing out a prophetic community, which challenges the cultural values and practices of their context and time. Even though classical ecclesiology has only recently focused on family as an ecclesial entity, family images can be traced back historically to the Mediterranean and Greco-Roman cultures. As we saw in Chapter 5, the FECH’s hermeneutical work countered the ‘antifamily’ position advocated by some scholars (Ruether, Fiorenza). However, families played a central part in the early Church (as illustrated in Acts). The previous chapters showed that the ecclesial metaphor of family (kinship) is relevant to being church for the FECH and at the same time provides an eschatological hope that resonates closely with salvific expectations of restoring family. It nurtures a vision of one worldwide ‘family of God’ (familia Dei). Alternative expressions are ‘domestic church’, ‘church in miniature’, ‘church of the home’, ‘household of God’ and ‘little church’. I prefer familia Dei so as not to overemphasize the domesticated church in the house or household but focus more on the organic family structure that seems more appropriate to the Filipino context. In particular with the FECH, familia Dei seems an appropriate ecclesiological frame to describe their developing ecclesiology. I will use the term familia Dei to refer to the worldwide family of God or to refer to one’s kinship structure (biological family). Due to this reality the Filipino family not only includes the immediate blood related family, the familia Dei of a kinship can also include additional members (for example, Ninongs/Ninangs, helpers, adopting outsiders). Thus, I use familia Dei referring to the FECH as they are an ecclesial community comprising various natural families (hence belonging to the familia Dei), yet, they sometimes see themselves also as one family that has adopted each other as family members (hence they are a familia Dei), which would be different in a western context. Friedrich Bechina explains that the term familia Dei consists of two parts. The first, familia, is an organic community that is formed from volunteer individuals

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and is set forth naturally and externally by the will of God, not by pure human arbitrariness. For Bechina, the genitive Dei expresses the solidarity of the family of God and places it in a tension between the nature of the divine and the human, which is the mark of the Church (see AAS 57 [1965]).2 The familia Dei seems to provide a relevant metaphor and framework to describe the developing ecclesiology of the FECH. A familia Dei ecclesiology provides insights into the tension between the ideal and the ecclesial significance of the ordinary. It also locates the developing ecclesiology of the FECH relative to ecclesial practices, orders, virtues and ethics. The notion of Christian natural family as being church that we see in late twentieth century theology and church discourse is something quite unfamiliar to much of the Christian tradition. Although nothing new in the sense of ancient parallels, it has only come back recently, for example in the Vatican II emphasis on ‘domestic church’. Whereas much time has been spent on the relation of domestic church and Church, more recent explorations focus on the domestic church and contemporary culture. In Western contemporary culture that is redefining family, this raises many new opportunities and problems. For this study, I will use the family metaphor from the context of the research community and the wider context of the Philippines as a kinship oriented society. Contemporary Western redefinitions of marriage and family will have to be addressed in theological and ecclesiological discourse, but they go beyond and carry little significance for this study. But certainly, these will be some of the key themes ecclesiological discourse have to address in the coming years to come. The FECH’s cultural outlook resonates with the family metaphor as it speaks closely to their values based on interpersonal relationships, while at the same time providing a religious symbol and practical instructions to help re-orient their own families. Being a Westerner myself, this is definitely something I can learn from the FECH, whose collectivist view of the world (as with Mark’s audience) often puts their own interests, desires or dreams on hold for the sake of the well-being of the family. As Joseph Hellerman rightly points out ‘[t]he New Testament picture of the church as a family flies in the face of our individualist cultural orientation’.3 Our Western culture has individualized most discipleship programmes, producing a product for the individual to develop spirituality apart from church life. But as I argued at the beginning of this study, belonging is central to Christian spirituality and even takes priority over believing and behaving. Faith in Jesus Christ includes a community-forming dimension, being called through the Holy Spirit and Christ’s salvific invitation to become part of the family of God. This ecclesial image of God’s family describes God’s fulfilment found in the experience of family relationships. The pattern of family portrayed in the Gospel of Mark speaks of God’s family, the church.

2. Bechina, Die Kirche als Familie Gottes, pp. 27–8. 3. Joseph H. Hellerman, When the Church Was a Family: Recapturing Jesus’ Vision for Authentic Christian Community (Nashville, TN: B & H Academic, 2009), p. 6.

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Pope John Paul II explains: ‘The Christian family constitutes a specific revelation and realization of ecclesial communion, and for this reason too it can and should be called “the domestic Church” ’ (FC no. 21). He adds, ‘the Christian family is grafted into the mystery of the Church’ (FC no. 49) and it constitutes its own locus to understand the nature of the Church (see Gaudium et Spes, no. 48). Or to state it differently in the words of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops (NCCB): ‘The point of the teaching is simple, yet profound. As Christian family, you not only belong to the Church, but your daily life is a true expression of the Church.’4 For the NCCB, this means; [t]he profound and the ordinary moments of daily life—mealtimes, workdays, vacations, expressions of love and intimacy, household chores, caring for a sick child or elderly parent, and even conflicts over things like how to celebrate holidays, discipline children, or spend money—all are the threads from which you can weave a pattern of holiness.5

Therein, the smallest unit of the familia Dei is found in the natural families that seek God’s will. ‘In them’, Florence C. Bourg explains, ‘Christ is present. They become his body, his Church: they make Christ present in the world.’6 Likewise, Pope Paul VI states in Evangelii Nuntiandi that ‘there should be found in every Christian family the various aspect of the entire Church’.7 John Calvin commenting on St Paul’s ‘house church’ in 1 Cor. 16:19 remarks: ‘What a wonderful thing to put on record, that the name “church” is applied to a single family, and yet it is fitting that all the families of believers should be organized in such a way as to be so many little churches.’8 The Christian family being the ‘smallest community or manifestation of the church’9 builds upon Jesus’ promises to be present wherever two or three are gathered in his name. If this is the case, Bourg argues in her insightful book, then the role of the family is to be ‘the basic cell of society and of Church in character education, formation of religious identity and vision, and creation of just social structure’.10 The

4. National Conference of Catholic Bishops, Follow the Way of Love (United States Catholic Conference, 1994), available from http://old.usccb.org/laity/follow.shtml (accessed 15 April 2013), p. 8. 5. Ibid. 6. Florence Caffrey Bourg, Where Two or Three are Gathered: Christian Families as Domestic Churches (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2004), p. 1. 7. Paul VI, One Evaneglization in the Modern World/Evangelii Nuntiandi (1975), available from http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/paul_vi/apost_exhortations/documents/hf_pvi_ exh_19751208_evangelii-nuntiandi_en.html (accessed 15 April 2013), no. 71. 8. Calvin as quoted in G. S. M. Walker, ‘Calvin and the Church’, Readings in Calvin’s Theology (ed. Donald K. McKim; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1984), p. 220. 9. Bourg, Where Two or Three are Gathered, p. 42. 10. Ibid., p. 3.

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familia Dei then ‘function first and foremost to stimulate imaginations to a deeper appreciation of the mystery of the Church and how family life figures into God’s plan of gracious presence in history’.11 As the FECH are re-orienting their families through gathering together around Jesus Christ, they are not merely working out what it means to be a Christian family but they become Church in that particular place. Bernard Boelen is right in claiming that these are not two separate activities. Rather, [e]ach Christian family presents ‘in a unique way’ the all-encompassing reality of the same Spirit, the same Mystical Body, the same ministry of Christ, the same sacrament of the Church. Each family is the Church, but in a particular way, namely, as the ‘domestic’ Church. Each family is essentially more than it is by participation in the entire Church.12

The task of the familia Dei is understood to live in intense communion life to experience with fidelity the reality of communion in Jesus Christ. Because of this experience, Denis Edwards states that ‘[t]he Christian family is the revelation of divine communion, and therefore is the Church at the domestic level’.13 The familia Dei originates from and reflects God’s kinship structure as revealed in the Trinity. The interrelatedness and communal identity of the Church as the family of God characterizes the inner working of the Trinity. Richard Gaillardetz argues that ‘[i]magining the church as a family offers a helpful path for relating to the rationality of familial life to the trinitarian foundation of the church’.14 The new family is founded in the fatherhood of God, where Jesus as the begotten, consubstantial (of one being) son is calling the people of God to become his brothers and sisters. Jesus Christ does not take the role of his father, but speaks of the authority given to him by his father. The familia Dei portrays the intimate imagery of family, where the Jews and those traditionally excluded are the new creations that are brought into relationship with the father by the work of the Holy Spirit through Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the reason that all nations can gather as loving brothers and sisters in the church among their neighbours. The Holy Spirit who is intertwined with the father and the son, works through the Church as family, a Spirit of truth, unity and love. The Church as the family of God is a participation in the communio of Christ in the missio Dei. As male and female become one in marriage, so does familia Dei unite diversity (in the image of the Trinitarian love) as a covenantal self-giving of love, an image of the esse of the Church.15

11. Ibid., p. 25. 12. Bernard Boelen, ‘Church Renewal and the Christian Family’, Studies in Formative Spirituality Vol. 2, No. 3 (1981), p. 366, italics in original. 13. Denis Edwards, ‘The Open Table: Theological Reflections on the Family’, The Australasian Catholic Record Vol. 72, No. 3 (1995), p. 330. 14. Gaillardetz, Ecclesiology for a Global Church, p. 128. 15. See Bechina, Die Kirche als Familie Gottes, pp. 54–5, 74–6.

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A trinitarian familia Dei ecclesiology promotes a profound sense of belonging. Within this trinitarian union – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – the Church identity, shape and order is formed by the trinitarian familia Dei. Simon Chan states that ‘this trinitarian family is an ordered family, and humans being made in the divine image and likeness are to reflect that order in their families and ultimately in the ecclesial family’.16 The familia Dei is the local reflection of the worldwide family of God that intimately expresses the Trinity. God’s paternal relationship with his son Jesus awards us with an intimate identity to be his children. The church’s identity (as well as the FECH’s) emerges from God the Father’s intention to reconcile his creation with him through the incarnate Son’s finished work on the cross, mediated by the Holy Spirit. Bourg points out ‘that the experience of family life not only provides images and language helpful to explain this divine mystery, but also disposes us to accept the Trinity and other tenets of Christian faith as credible’.17 The familia Dei is an image of the relational love of the triune God. And even though each person remains singular and unique in the familia Dei, the Holy Trinity provides an example of mutual love and honour.18 The language of the familia Dei provides further insights into our discussion on the nature of the Church. It talks about embracing an identity. When someone asks who we are, we usually tell them our name first. Particularly in the Philippines, surnames are crucial, as you could be related to the person you’re talking with. We often associate ourselves with our family name. Similarly, as someone puts their faith in Christ, they take on a new family identity. Now they think of themselves as followers of Jesus Christ, part of a church family they regularly attend. When I meet brothers and sisters around the globe, I am amazed how often I immediately have a close connection with them because we belong to God’s family. As we confess Christ, we take on his family name and he becomes the source of our identity. Familia Dei provides a good frame for discoursing about our ecclesial identity. But above all, familia Dei imagery speaks of one’s identity at the deepest level of one’s belonging, solidarity and cohesiveness. i. The ecclesial significance of the ordinary: Tensions between ideal and concrete familia Dei. The familia Dei embodies God’s presence through faith in Christ in the ordinary lives of believers. As in any family, the FECH face inevitable tensions with the ideal, as they discover that they are an inadequate expression of Church. Just as I experience it with my own family, so the FECH struggle with the reality that the real familia Dei does not always conform to the ideal familia Dei. This profound tension sheds some light on a holistic perspective of the human person

16. Chan, Grassroots Asian Theology, p. 203. 17. Bourg, Where Two or Three are Gathered, p. 115. 18. Stavros Fotiou, ‘Water into Wine, and Eros into Agape: Marriage in the Orthodox Church’, Celebrating Christian Marriage (ed. Adrian Thatcher; Edinburgh and New York: T&T Clark, 2001), p. 102.

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and the world. ‘If nothing else’, Bourg states ‘the idea of the domestic church challenges much of our cultural common sense by affirming the potential holiness in everyday activity.’19 The modern Enlightenment in the West has greatly contributed to a separation between the spiritual and the secular life. The reality of a widespread Platonic philosophy that is strongly dualistic in nature is often observed among Western Christianity. The empirical description in Chapter 4 shows that on the cognitive level of the FECH this divide of the spiritual and the secular does not exist. Filipino scholars have pointed out that Filipinos have a ‘strongly unified view of being’.20 In other words, the ordinary life is as spiritual as the supernatural world. Filipinos tend to see the unity of human existence’s multiple dimensions to be in line with the biblical vision of human reality.21 However, as Christianity was introduced to the Philippines as a dualistic religion, the result has been the observable split-religiosity I discussed previously. There are many stories of not only ordinary church-goers, but of pastors and elders of churches, who, when sickness, accidents, or disasters struck would revert to their ancestors’ rituals. We will further address this in the next section on ecclesial practices, but for now, in line with this holistic perspective, it is important to note that Filipino theology cannot ignore the natural as spiritual. As the Filipino religious view of reality fuses the natural and the supernatural, the worlds of nature and grace flow together, and even while conceptually distinguishable, they are existentially and historically intertwined.22 The familia Dei challenges the Western compartmentalized view of reality that has tended to spiritualize things like personal quiet time, Bible study groups and church services while ordinary life has been marked as secular and private. The familia Dei nurtures a spirituality where sanctification, ethics, morality, and so forth, are negotiated in family settings without pretence. Since I started journeying with the FECH, I have admired their honesty, which I have personally struggled to emulate, and which is often neglected in Western churches. For example, participating in the weekly Bible studies of the FECH, I sometimes hear an elder excuse themselves from leading as they had just come from a big fight with his wife or her husband. Noting that they do not want to be hypocrites, they ask another elder to lead. In these situations I have been challenged about my own hypocrisy, when I have proceeded with ministry even though my own home was in trouble. I and many of my beloved brothers and sisters have put on masks in church, but in the familia Dei this is not possible. In order to glorify God in the familia Dei, humility and transparency are essential. The familia Dei also provides eschatological insight into God’s kingdom as being ‘already but not yet’. As the domestic church is a ‘pilgrim Church’, meaning a work in

19. Bourg, Where Two or Three are Gathered, p. 51, see 47–9. 20. Francisco, The Philippines, p. 263. 21. Ibid., p. 264. 22. Ibid., p. 265.

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progress, it emphasizes being ‘unfinished’, which is inherent in the familia Dei, and therefore ‘some degree of anxiety is the norm’.23 What I want to elaborate on here is the ecclesiological significance of pilgrimage, or what I prefer to call ‘journey’.24 Theologically speaking, a renewed focus on journey helps to work through issues of Platonic dualism. In the opening lines of Mark 1:2–3 we are reminded that God has already announced the arrival of Isaiah’s ‘way’ (ὁδός) out of exile (Mk. 1:2–3; cf. Isa. 40:3; Mal. 3:1). ‘The Way’ signifies the presence of God in the ancient Exodus narrative and speaks of the anticipated eschatological event.25 Mark tells us of ‘blind’ disciples being led along the ‘Way of the Lord’ and so echoes Yahweh’s leading the ‘blind’ along ‘unknown’ and ‘unfamiliar’ ways (Isa. 42:16).26 As the disciples journey with Jesus on the ‘Way’, he introduced them to God’s way of thinking, which is contrary to their own (Mk. 8:33). The ‘Way’ is a journey that enables us to identify with Jesus as the ‘Suffering Servant’ that Isaiah depicted.27 Just as the people of Israel’s journey were marked by failure, so the Church through history has been sorting out issues of imperfection and error. And even though they need to be acknowledged, addressed and when needed repented of, at the heart of the way with God lies the devotion to the ideal religious symbols that nurture new perspectives for the journey. Being on the ‘Way’ provides a powerful metaphor of understanding the presence of God among the homeless. It stands on the promise that God will not forsake us nor leave us (Heb. 13:5–6). Often, as my wife and I are on our way home from a visit with the FECH we feel overwhelmed and deeply frustrated by the reality of their environment and the wicked choices made in response to it. How could they not care about their children’s education? Why do they put so many hindrances in their way? Why is that elder always falling back into alcoholism? We often find ourselves crying at the devastation we see and how Satan has been so powerful in destroying their lives, and the lives of future generations. In our hopelessness, even though Satan makes war on our world (Rev. 12:12) as he looks for someone to devour (1 Pet. 5:8), we are assured that God’s kingdom is near. It is when the mothers share their deep pain about the wickedness of their husbands that we start to see God’s comforting arms at work. In the midst of the great evil, pain and suffering of the FECH, we find encouragement as God’s kingdom creates hope, brings redemption and restores life, showing that Satan’s rampant destruction is coming to an end. The imagery (metaphor) of being on a

23. Bourg, Where Two or Three are Gathered, p. 57. 24. The initial ideas of journey I draw from Jerry Hwang’s 2013 unpublished paper, From Abraham to Jesus: A Study in Continuity and Discontinuity presented on 1 April 2013 in Singapore on the OMF Mission Research Consultation, 2013). 25. David W. Pao, Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2 Reihe. Tübingen, Germany: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), p. 52. 26. Rikki E. Watts, Isaiah’s new Exodus and Mark (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2 Reihe, Tübingen, Germany: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), p. 6. 27. Ibid., pp. 137–82.

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journey on God’s ‘Way’ helps us to realize that when we make mistakes, we are not immediately excluded from God but, like the first disciples, we are ‘blind’ and have to ask God to lead us along a path unknown to us. The ideal of the familia Dei is founded on God’s gracious and merciful covenant with us, and worked out as a journey along this path. At the same time, the familia Dei challenges a romantic and unrealistic theology of the Church. Anybody who has the opportunity to observe the FECH will gain an impression of struggles, mistakes, falling and at the same time God’s grace at work in the midst of it. This may foster humility through transparency in the FECH’s familia Dei, something many more institutional churches often lack. Willie Teague has written about his despair when his ‘ideal’ family went through divorce, and about the reality of failure and the feelings of isolation he felt in his church: ‘Few families reflect the kind of family life which the church seems to insist upon as reality. This disparity is the source of much grief and pain. We all know that we live in imperfect families, yet we cannot share our imperfection in the place were truth is supposed to be most valued: the church.’28 Teague found personal comfort when he ‘looked beyond the church’s romantic and unrealistic image of family to the reality of family rooted in the gospels. They give rise to new hope that every family, however, broken, can be filled with God’s gracious presence.’29 The familia Dei is never perfect; Dolores Lekey states, ‘imperfection is normal; and it is precisely there, in reality rather than in idealized fantasies, that God will be found’.30 In the familia Dei the crosses we carry are for perfecting God’s image in our midst. Even though there is great brokenness and imperfection among the FECH, they are in a process of carrying their crosses in their immediate families and also in the wider family of the FECH. Chapter 4 pointed out that living together in one place without walls for many years has fostered honesty through transparency in the FECH. As I observe their ecclesial formation, I see that it is God’s grace and strength that keeps them coming together each week to honour God in their midst, despite brokenness and differences. Often, in their gathering, they share their familial difficulties, and how issues between each other are worked out as they ask God for help. Bourg raises the important point that ‘[i]f morality is a matter of perfecting God’s image in ourselves and others by imitating the perfect image provided in Jesus, it makes sense to look to his family life to guide domestic churches today’.31 It is as we struggle to embody Christ’s image in our familia Dei that we can encounter God’s presence as He genuinely suffers with us. A spirituality emerges from the familia Dei of lived tensions of brokenness and God’s wholeness,

28. Willie Teague, ‘What Is a Christian Family?’, Weavings No. 5, February (1988), p. 28. 29. Ibid. 30. Dolores R. Leckey, The Ordinary Way: A Family Spirituality (New York: Crossroad, 1982), p. 123. 31. Bourg, Where Two or Three are Gathered, p. 64.

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communal weakness and his strength, and ecclesial imperfection and his perfection; He graciously and mercifully transforms members into Christ’s image and so demonstrates the profound reality that God has been incarnated in families. ii. Bridging the gap between sacred and secular. Thus the Christian family, which springs from marriage as a reflection of the loving covenant uniting Christ with the Church, and as a participation in that covenant, will manifest to all men Christ’s living presence in the world, and the genuine nature of the Church (GS no. 48).

This passage from Gaudium et Spes suggests that the familia Dei, in their participation in Christ’s covenant, will manifest Christ’s living presence in the world. In institutional churches often the primary medium of manifesting Christ’s living presence in the world is through the traditional sacraments. But the genuine nature of the Church is not limited to this kind of gathering but extends to when Christian families come together around Christ, doing the will of God and thereby manifesting Christ’s living presence. The ordinary life of families can therefore be a ‘sign of the presence of Christ’ (FC no. 54) in our world and hence a true expression of the ‘genuine nature of the Church’ in the world. Even though the FECH’s environment is marked by great sinfulness and their daily life is shaped by the need to survive, the pervasiveness of grace works in mysterious ways that are manifested in the daily lives of the FECH families. The manifestation of God’s presence in our everyday family activities does require the cultivation of an awareness of Christ’s presence in all things. It is a movement of the sacraments back into our worldly contexts that challenges the sharp distinction developed for centuries between sacred and secular and holds that the sacred takes place only within the Church. Karl Rahner provides some insights into this: ‘God has not attached his power to the sacraments in such a way that he could not also impart the effects of sacramental grace even without the sacraments themselves.’32 Rahner explains: [W]e must stress one thing: this grace is not a particular phenomenon occurring parallel to the rest of human life but simply the ultimate depth of everything the spiritual creature does when he realizes himself – when he laughs and cries, accepts responsibility, love, lives, and dies, stands up for truth, moves on from preoccupation with self to help the neighbor, hopes against hope, cheerfully refuses to be embittered by the stupidity of daily life, keeps silent not so that evil festers in his heart but so that it dies there – when in a word, man lives as he would like to live, in opposition to his selfishness and to the despair that always assails him. This is where grace occurs, because all this leads man into the infinite

32. Karl Rahner, ‘On the Theology of Worship’, Theological Investigation (vol 19; New York: Crossroad, 1983), p. 142.

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and victory that is God. Something else must be said about this grace which is the depth and mystery of everyday life. It attained its clearest manifestation in Jesus of Nazareth, and precisely in the kind of life in which he became like us in all things, in a life full of ordinariness – birth, hardship, courage, hope, failure, and death.33

Therefore, we should no longer equate the world as ‘secular’ with ‘godless’ and ‘sinful’, as the FECH’s environment has been judged, but rather: ‘The world is constantly and ceaselessly possessed by grace from its inner most roots.’ Rahner elaborates, from the innermost personal centre of the spiritual subject. It is constantly and ceaselessly sustained and moved by God’s self-bestowal even prior to the question (admittedly always crucial) of how creaturely freedom reacts to this ‘engracing’ of the world and of the spiritual creature as already given and ‘offered’, the question, in other words, of whether this creaturely freedom accepts the grace to its salvation or closes itself to it to its perdition.34

As we experience God’s gracious presence in our more institutional churches, so the familia Dei believes that God’s Spirit remains constantly present in their families’ lives, that no work undertaken in the care of their households falls outside the scope of God’s concern, and that whatever good they do in Christ’s name (intentionally or unintentionally) serves as a medium of grace for others; they have then begun to transform their homes into domestic churches.35

Therefore we see God’s gracious self-giving (presence) being embodied in ordinary life (also known as, ‘the liturgy of the world’), as the essence of the ‘ecclesial practices’ of the familia Dei. The difference between families and the familia Dei is that the latter has (to some degree) explicitly embraced a vision that creates space for God’s gracious presence to be embodied in ordinary relationships and activities. As with any ecclesial identity, over time, the FECH develop concrete practices that represent their decisive rites in relating to God. These ecclesial practices represent the ecclesial community expressing its identity by embodying God’s grace. If these ecclesial and spiritual formation practices are embedded within the societal context, they most relevantly contribute to the formation of the Christian

33. Karl Rahner, ‘How to Receive a Sacrament and Mean It’, The Sacraments: Readings in Contemporary Sacramental Theology (ed. Michael J. Taylor; New York: Alba House, 1981), p. 73. 34. Karl Rahner, ‘Considerations on the Active Role of the Person in the Sacramental Event’, Theological Investigations (vol. 14; New York: Seabury; 1976), p. 166. 35. Bourg, Where Two or Three are Gathered, p. 103.

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character and godly transformation of the community. Instead of just adopting the ecclesial practices observed in other institutional churches (the Roman Catholic Church as well as Protestant churches), the FECH have slowly adopted practices that emerged from their reflection on their own Sitz im Leben. Not only do these practices contribute to the stability and unity of their familia Dei, but they also shape their ecclesial identity, mission and place in society. Before describing the FECH’s ecclesial practices, we turn to Alasdair MacIntyre’s work that provides helpful insights into practices that address deep-seated cultural values. MacIntyre defines practice as: any coherent and complex form of socially established cooperative human activity through which goods internal to that form of activity are realized in the course of trying to achieve those standards of excellence which are appropriate to, and partially definitive of, that form of activity, with the result that human powers to achieve excellence, and human conceptions of the ends and goods involved, are systematically extended.36

Practices are ‘socially established cooperative human activity’ which institute the identity of the church, in our case the FECH. The practices and all that constitutes them (‘goods internal to that form of activity’), shape one’s identity. External goods are characterized as ‘objects of competition’ (there must be losers and winners).37 Contrarily, MacIntyre states that ‘[i]nternal goods are indeed the outcome of competition to excel, but it is characteristic of them that their achievement is a good for the whole community who participate in the practice’.38 And because ‘practices involve standards of excellence and obedience to rules as well as the achievements of good’,39 MacIntyre explains that they can be measured accordingly (at least to some extent): To enter into a practice is to accept the authority of those standards and the inadequacy of my own performance as judged by them. It is so to subject my own attitudes, choices, preferences and tastes to the standards which currently and partially define the practice.40

These practices have a history, and hence, ‘the institutionalization of a practice is both necessary for the survival of a practice but also contributes to the corruption of the practice’.41 As this study has emphasized, an empirical ecclesiology examines

36. Alasdair C. MacIntyre, After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 3rd edn, 2007), p. 187. 37. Ibid., p. 190. 38. Ibid., pp. 190–1. 39. Ibid., p. 83. 40. Ibid. 41. Ibid., p. 194.

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these ‘human activities’ as they constitute the Church. Practices are not something we just do as church, mere activities, but are adopted in the space of God’s gracious self-giving, and with that space constitute the Church. iii. Ecclesial practices of the FECH. This section will explore the ecclesial practices developed by the FECH that give space to God’s gracious self-giving. One ecclesial practice I observed is the communal study of Holy Scripture. The whole Bible is viewed as a primary location of God’s self-communication and therefore has a major influence in shaping their ecclesial identity. The FECH gave priority to the NT but in their hermeneutical work on Mark they sometimes referred to the OT explaining certain fulfilments, quoting ‘it has been written’. This is a common statement generally – ‘it has been written so’ – which shows an emphasis on the authority of the whole Bible. The FECH’s hermeneutical approach to Scripture is a very communal process. In more institutional churches, the full-time professional pastor does the hermeneutical work in advance and then delivers the message during a service. However, the way the FECH perceive their identity as familia Dei is expressed in the view of all their members as full-time workers in their church. Consequently, when they come together to study the Word of God, all are encouraged to participate in the discussion as the whole People of God. One or two of the elders from the FECH community will share the passage, usually orally. After sharing the passage, the elders, mainly, will facilitate a discussion. Sometimes they disperse into smaller groups to discuss certain passages, and then come back and share with each other what they have learned. At the end, often the elders will summarize the discussions. The power to make decisions of the implications that were discussed is given to the members of FECH in this hermeneutical process. When Scripture raises issues (for example baptism, the Lord’s Supper or a counter-cultural issue, such as lying or stealing) that relate to their ecclesial identity, it is not the elders who withdraw and decide about the matter but the whole FECH draws applications for their ecclesial life from their study of Scripture together. As the Word of God is God’s gracious self-revelation, the FECH rely on the Holy Spirit to guide their hermeneutical work and in the process nurture a communal vision for their ecclesial identity. In Chapter 4, I mentioned the sudden brutal death of Ernel. After the funeral, the SO team, processing the traumatic experience with the FECH, asked what would be some proper responses of the FECH to this situation. They shared that they wanted to start meeting each week on Tuesday evenings for a prayer gathering to intercede for their community. Having just experienced the brutal death of one from the community and the reality of the violent environment they live in, they all agreed that only prayer could help them. And so, each week they started to gather to intercede for their community. The Lord’s Supper is another ecclesial practice that the FECH have adopted. Initially, they took the elements of wine and bread and contextualized them by using coffee and bread. They argued that wine or juice (what the traditional

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churches use) were not really suitable for their community. In the FECH, I have often been struck by how parents would give coffee to their young babies, and I was irritated that all the children were drinking my coffee at the summer camp when I had brought extra milo (chocolate drink) for them. Nonetheless, that practice slowly faded after a while, and the FECH started to emphasis a more open culture of sharing. These open meals are events where people chip in or they receive food from an outsider that they then share. The youth group of the FECH often practise this. There are also communal open meals when they celebrate the Lord’s Supper together. For example, every Christmas season, the elders of the FECH community organize themselves to go to the market to buy all the food needed for the celebration and then cook it by themselves. Afterwards, they gather in the afternoon for a Christmas programme. Then, the FECH serve the food and include others living in surrounding areas. It is a joyful event where the messianic table becomes open for all to celebrate Christ in their midst (see Mk. 2:15–16). For example in Mark 7:24–30, we observe a messianic table motif that alludes to the Eucharist in the symbol of bread. The woman’s request of Jesus to heal her daughter is interpreted by Jesus as a request for bread (v. 27). Mark implies that food has theological significance and healing is associated with eating. Jesus’ speech contains references to its immediate context, such as the feeding of the five thousand (6:30–44) and the four thousand (8:1–10).42 Filipino theologian Antonio Pernia puts forward that ‘[t]he primary image Jesus used for the kingdom was table fellowship, the subject of many of his parables and the object of many meals he shared with outcasts and sinners. Through this image Jesus announced that God . . . was inviting everyone – everyone without exception – to communion with him.’43 In Jesus’ response, the Syrophoenician woman recognized the importance of the bread and argued that the same loaf could feed both the Jewish and the Gentile children (v. 28). The FECH noted that even just tasting the crumbs would free her daughter from the demon. Although Jesus initially points towards a rank order, the bread on the messianic table is able to satisfy the needs of the world and has no intrinsic limitation. The dialogue presents a process that dismantles a pattern of exclusion. Charles Campbell describes a related experience with some homeless: I realized immediately that we were sharing communion. I remembered Jesus— now a black Jesus, a homeless Jesus, an oppressed Jesus—feeding the five thousand with a few loaves and fish. I remembered Jesus sharing meals with outcasts. I remembered Jesus giving bread to his disciples at the Last Supper and

42. See Susan Miller, Women in Mark’s Gospel (Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series. London and New York: T&T Clark International, 2004), p. 99; and Daniel J. Harrington, The Gospel of Matthew (Sacra Pagina Series, Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1991), p. 222. 43. Antonio Pernia, The Eucharist and our Mission (Following the Word 7, Rome: SVD Publications, 1996), p. 38.

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at the table in Emmaus. Jesus knew we needed to share a meal together. And in that odd circle of strangers—rich and poor, black and white, housed and homeless—Jesus was present, and we shared food as equals. It was a joyful, thankful, Eucharistic celebration, a foretaste of that great banquet when all God’s children will sit together at table in shalom.44

This floor fellowship (seldom is a table used) is a radical invitation for inclusion at the margins. Too often, the messianic table of blessing is a place of gathering of the religious elite, those who are included and have power to exclude others, and whose embarrassment can be so profound that ‘the least of these’ are rejected at the table, while in reality they have been given preferred seating in God’s eyes. I have drawn much spiritual inspiration from the late Filipino artist Joey A. Velasco who painted the Table of Hope (hapag ng Pag-asa) where Jesus is seen in the Last Supper with street children, instead of the disciples. The table is not filled with religious leaders, not even Jesus’ disciples, but with the vulnerable, the hungry, the exploited, and the broken. In Velasco’s book,45 he describes each child’s true story. Listening to them, he realized that the mysterious presence of God was right there in their midst, and hence the title of his book: They Have Jesus. We might not be able to change the outlook of some traditional churches about the Eucharist relating to membership or ritual validity, but we can start with the smallest unit of our society. The meals of the familia Dei should be seen as an extension of this radical inclusion, expressing openness and hospitality as a loving embracing of God’s invitation to Jesus’ Eucharistic table (floor fellowship). Periodically, the visual arts, poetry, drama and song-writing have been used to illustrate God’s gracious presence being fleshed out in their midst. E. Acobe, a former team leader of SO, shared how the FECH dramatized the Christmas story: Their biggest worry concerned the availability of props for the drama. Our team instead encouraged them to work with what they had. Two days before Christmas day, they made their presentation in front of about seventy homeless and street youth who use the park to sleep in during the night. Incredibly, it was organized and directed by a fourteen year old girl whose desire was to tell the Christmas story. Their presentation revolved around the story of a homeless Jesus. . . . For props, they used a two-day-old baby who was born on a nearby sidewalk to portray Jesus. For angels, they used street children in their normal dirty attire singing Christmas carols. It was a short dramatization but the message was clear: God’s name was ‘homeless Jesus’ and he was real to them in that very moment. Desperate as they were but given the environment to exert and affirm their dignity and integrity, they did not seek a triumphant Jesus to be their God of

44. Stanley P. Saunders and Charles L. Campbell, The Word on the Street: Performing the Scriptures in the Urban Context (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000), p. 39. 45. See Joey A. Velasco, They Have Jesus: The Stories of the Children of Hapag (Philippines: Kenosis Publications, 2006).

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hope. They were looking for a Jesus to be just as they were. The naming of God as ‘homeless Jesus’ was not an embarrassment or shaming to them but rather a validation that God can be called by a name that represents their very own identity. At the same time, it was also a recognition that they possessed the inherent right to do so.46

The FECH also adopted baptism as ecclesial practice. This needs closer examination as it closely relates to the empirical (Chapter 4) and theological (Chapter 5) data that revealed a strong sense of the supernatural realm among the FECH. I observed two baptismal understandings in the FECH, where the espoused theology (adult baptism) differed from the operant theology (infant baptism). Baptismal doctrine has often been highly emphasized in traditional churches and the differences have resulted in frequent division, alienation and exclusion, instead of baptism signifying the union found in Christ. I will elaborate on this below, but for now it can be said that if one ties sacramentality to ecclesiality it contributes to increased division of the One Church. As I discuss the FECH’s use and understanding of different baptism rites, we need to keep in mind that theological differences about baptism have not become an ecclesial issue for them. They respect the different views represented and so far have been able to set aside doctrinal differences for the sake of being able to continue to worship together. In the workshop conducted with the FECH on Mark’s Gospel, they reflected on adult baptism primarily as it can be seen in the story of Jesus being baptized by John the Baptist. Jesus humbled himself to set an example for us to follow. God reveals himself in the ritual of baptism and so helps us to know God better. Baptism involves confession of sin (washing away of sins) and becoming part of God’s people. Unfortunately, I was never able to observe an adult baptism among the FECH. I followed up after the workshop about the disparity that most argued for adult baptism in the gospel data but the practice seems absent in my observation of their ecclesial community. I learned that almost all had already been baptized in institutional churches. However, from my observation, the motivation has more often been economic, instead of a spiritual declaration of their journey with God. Especially, as traditional churches have tied baptism with membership, the FECH are ‘motivated’ to be baptized, to become officially part of the traditional church, and so gain more access to the resources of the churches. As this has been the case, many of the FECH members have been baptized several times to be part of several churches and even some cults. But, in reality, few attend regular services. Infant baptism (as well as baby dedication in most Protestant churches) in the Philippines traditionally has been seen as more than a spiritual rite of passage. It also extends one’s kinship and ensures the material well-being of the child. As demonstrated in Chapter 4, this has not been the case with the FECH. Their

46. E. Acobe, Naming the Unknown God (Quezon City, Philippines: OMF Literature Inc. and Asian Theological Seminary, 2006), p. 54.

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engagement in child baptism was a rite that has been motivated primarily by their beliefs in the supernatural world. The interpretative work of the FECH on Mark revealed that they understood Christ’s power to be over everything, including the devil and the demons. They mentioned several times in their reflections that Christ exhibits power enough to overthrow the work of the devil and demons. The cosmic battle was won through Christ’s death on the cross. That same authority that Christ and the disciples exhibited over spiritual forces has been given to the FECH. However, even though the FECH has a view of the supernatural world that is similar to the receptor community of Mark and similar cognitive understanding of Christ being the good news, the empirical data still raises underlying questions such as: Why are the FECH still so afraid of the spirits? Why are they still practicing rituals to protect them from any harm and to ensure the appeasing of the Spirits? How is it possible that cognitively they believe in the power of Christ, knowing that they have to put all their trust in him, and still, at the core of their being, in time of struggle (for example sickness) or in the daily routines of life, they exhibit spiritualistic behaviour? This indicates the deep-seated split-level Christianity of the FECH, a phenomenon that scholars have observed throughout the Philippines and in various other cultural contexts. Jaime Bulatao explains that a ‘split-level Christianity’ is a lack of congruence between what Filipinos openly confess and what their actual practices are and their deep level convictions. He further elaborates, Split-level Christianity may be described as the co-existence within the same person of two or more thought-and-behavior systems which are inconsistent with each other. The image is of two apartments at different levels, each of which contains a family, the one rarely talking to the other. So it is with the split-leveled person: at one level he professes allegiance to ideas, attitudes and ways of behaving which are mainly borrowed from the Christian West, at another level he holds convictions which are more properly his ‘own’ ways of living and believing which were handed down from his ancestors, which do not always find their way into an explicit philosophical system, but nevertheless now and then flow into action.47

For Filipino theologian José de Mesa, this is because the Philippines experienced less than a full inculturation of the faith, as colonization and Christianity came hand-in-hand.48 Many other Filipino scholars, along with Lapiz and Maggay have pointedly noted that Western missionaries who came with a colonial mentality have failed to truly appreciate the goodness in Filipino culture. Maggay claims that the dominance of the American theological perspective ‘has led to the captivity of Filipino churches to ways of thinking and feeling that are unable to connect with

47. Jaime C. Bulatao, Split-level Christianity, Christian Renewal of Filipino Values (Quezon City, Philippines: Ateneo de Manila University, 1967), p. 2. 48. De Mesa, In Solidarity with the Culture, pp. 27–8.

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the depth of the indigenous concern for supernatural power’.49 ‘Western missionaries’, she writes, ‘assumed that their interpretation of Scripture was correct, and that it simply had to be adapted to other cultures, so that there was no need for the Filipinos to develop their own theology.’50 In either case, it seems to me that at the core of the FECH’s cultural outlook, a cognitive understanding of the doctrine of Christ is not enough to change their core spiritualistic habits, but in addition ecclesial practices are essential in addressing their deep-seated spiritism cosmology. There has been a great deal of discussion about developing theologies that address this split-level Christianity among Filipinos. However, as the empirical data shows, even though their theological articulation emphasizes a theology addressing their spiritualistic belief system, at the core of their culture, there is limited change. The institutional Church seldom addresses the spiritual world in their theologies or preaching and so has little to say about how they affect the church’s ability to live in harmony with each other and the supernatural world. Chapter 4 described the FECH’s rituals and beliefs of the subdivine and nonhuman are not about worship of the spirits, but an acknowledgement of their reality and an ensuring of a harmonious relationship with the spiritual world. Instead of just rejecting these beliefs and rituals, the FECH have started to formulate ecclesial practices as a response to them. One particular area for a proper response is sought in infant and child baptism.51 As all humans are sinners by birth, the FECH see child baptism (also referred to by some as dedication) as a rite of purification from inherited sin. This does not mean one does not have to confess anymore, but it is a rite in which God is asked to protect the child from all evil forces. As I talked with the FECH about this, they said the rite addresses their fear of spiritual beings. For a reflection on the spiritual world reality of the FECH and baptism, Robert E. Moses contributes a compelling argument in his examination of Paul’s ‘principalities and powers’. He considers Paul’s powers through an examination of the practices that Paul advocated for the early Churches. Instead of focusing on what the people believed about the supernatural world, Moses’ approach assumes that ‘Paul’s conception of the powers is unintelligible without a developed account of the practices he advocated for the early believers’.52 Moses argues for ‘powerful practices’, which he defines as: ‘powerful practices are either activities that guard believers from the dominion of the powers, or activities that expose believers and unbelievers to the dominion of the powers’.53 Moses’ central argument asserts that Paul used certain practices that protect the believers

49. Melba Padilla Maggay, Filipino Religious Consciousness: Some Implications to Missions (Quezon City, Philippines: Institute for Studies in Asian Church and Culture, 1999), p. 38. 50. Ibid., pp. 7–8. 51. I observed both in the FECH, where newborn and children where baptized. 52. Robert Ewusie Moses, ‘Powerful Practices: Paul’s Principalities and Powers Revisited’ (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Divinity School, Duke University, 2012), p. 4. 53. Ibid.

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from any influence of the ‘principalities and powers’. Likewise, Paul addressed practices that make the believer vulnerable to the ‘principalities and powers’.54 Therefore, ecclesial practices may be conceived as a dialectic of bringing surface beliefs about Christ (consciousness) and spiritualistic behaviours (unconsciousness) into an internalized process of changing deep-seated habitual spiritist views into cognitive beliefs of right doctrine about Christ. In its place of habitually engaging in spiritualistic rituals and sayings, these ecclesial practices nurture intimacy with Christ as the FECH express their trust in him in facing the supernatural world around them. They started this process by adopting baptism that traditionally has been by immersion, asking for forgiveness and seeking union with Christ. They follow the ritual of sprinkling water on the child and asking the community to pray for the child. However, the emphasis on the child baptism is a way of asking God to protect their lives from all harm from the spiritual beings. It is a declaration that Christ has won the cosmic power to protect the child. Another ecclesial practice the FECH started is to declare Christ’s Lordship over the unseen world and ask for protection from spiritual being by doing ‘prayer walking’. For the FECH, these ecclesial practices are a unifying participation of the community and not merely an individualistic receiving of the sacraments. The aim of the communal participation in these ecclesial practices is not only to discern God’s all-pervasive presence in their midst, but to obtain a liberation from all oppressions (for example fear of the unseen world). As seen in the FECH’s participation in baptism and prayer walking, they participate for personal purification and to respond to deep-seated cultural values. Instead of rejecting their spiritualistic instincts, they hopefully will keep questioning these beliefs and rites and seek ways to respond in ways faithful to Scripture. As seen in the traditional churches, rejecting them or not talking about them simply adds to a split-level Christianity. For the gospel truly to be rooted in their hearts and culture, I argue that the right cognitive understanding of the doctrine of Christ needs to be developed alongside transformational ecclesial practices to change deep-seated spiritualistic understanding of the FECH’s cosmology. Only if theologies and ecclesial practices address the supernatural world, social oppression, financial depression, mental illness and so forth, hopefully then will we see the disappearance of a split-level Christianity. The task for Filipino churches is to engage in examining traditional practices in light of Scripture in order to seek meaningful ways of honouring and worshipping God. In order to address the split-level Christianity that many experience, Filipino churches need to ask themselves what are the ecclesial practices that guard them from the dominion of the unseen world and what are the practices, rites, and beliefs that expose them to the dominion of the powers. The ecclesial practices identified and described here are part of what constitute the FECH; they give insight into how they construct realities and create self-identification.

54. Ibid.

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iv. Familia Dei leadership structure of the FECH. The Apostle Paul suggests a close relationship between leadership in the family and the church when he directly linked the failure to lead at home to being disqualified to lead in the church (see 1 Timothy 3:4–6). As the ecclesial identity of the FECH is closely linked to the familia Dei, this inevitably shapes their social form and order. They have a shared leadership structure, which draws from the family identity, but with God’s fictive kinship as the ideal, transforming the natural family. The FECH’s sociopolitical leadership has been shaped by their kinship system based on their interpersonal relationships and social order. Therefore, each family will provide a representative of their kinship group, or someone else they trust, to be an elder of the FECH. The representative can be either a woman or male. This ensures that one’s kinship interests are protected, while also bringing accountability for each family to the wider community. Each elder volunteers their services (diakonia) and through laying of hands by the community and anointing (leitourgia) the newly elected elder, the person is prayed over to be one of their leaders. At the time of this field research, the elders usually met at the beginning of the week to discuss the week’s activities, such as the Scriptures they would be studying as a group; and allocation of responsibilities (for example sharing the story, facilitating the study, preparing snacks, collecting the offering, leading worship, etc.). In these meetings, they usually took time to pray for the community and each other. Sometimes, they also studied Scripture together or discussed what they sense is happening in their faith community. If certain needs emerged (for example a death or someone is hospitalized), they may also discuss how they should respond. As there are many cultural forms of leadership, the familia Dei does not describe one form that fits all contexts. Culture shapes kinship structure, expectations and orders. Chapter 5 discussed that Jesus, in forming God’s fictive kinship, did not seek to abolish the patriarchal household or any hierarchy for the sake of establishing an ‘egalitarian’ movement. There were more important underlying themes for the kinship structure. This does not mean we should not address inequality, injustice or misuse of power within a kinship structure. For example, voices were rightly raised to challenge the Roman Catholic Church’s patriarchal stance in the recent controversy concerning the Reproductive Health Bill (PRH Bill) in the Philippines. One of the central themes that emerged from the data relating to leadership was power. From my years of observation of the urban poor, I conclude that it is not so much that the poor are powerless but either the power in them is greatly suppressed by others or they are captives to a negative handling of power. In Chapter 5 I explained that some aspects of poverty could be caused by reflexive oppression. Another cause would be repressive relationships where the poor are acculturated within an oppressive network of relationships. Due to limited resources, they have to constantly compete, which causes disruption to the harmony of their relationships, so that they are not only living in oppressive relationships that are enforced from the outside, but also may oppress each other. The poor have known

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little else than being abused by those in power and by each other. Consequently, as soon as one of them gains power, he/she often tends to oppress others.55 This is also seen in a tendency for a new elder of the FECH to abuse the power given to him/ her by the community. Therefore, in growing into mature leaders of the FECH, they need to develop a theology of power. Jesus’ comments on power and leadership reported by Mark are insightful: You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whomever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mk. 10:42–45).

Abuse of power is a temptation for the FECH, just as it was for politicians and religious leaders of Jesus’ time. As Jesus called his disciples together, he taught them not to follow the example they saw around them. This is a challenge throughout the Philippines, as it remains one of the most corrupt societies. Jesus speaks into the FECH’s context of living at the bottom of an oppressive society with corrupt religious leaders and politicians: ‘challenging them to not exercise authority over others’. As soon as one has received power, the temptation is always to do to others as they have been done to. Jesus challenges this mentality by bringing us back to a kingdom of God perspective. If you want to be great in God’s eyes, become a servant. The power entrusted to one should be used to serve others by becoming a slave to others. The gospel touches again on one of the deepest cultural values of the FECH, of holding onto power in order to serve one’s family interests. But leadership in the familia Dei should be driven by obedience to God’s will in becoming servants (even slaves) to honour Jesus Christ in the life of the community. 2. The Church’s Mission in Society. The developing ecclesiology of the FECH is being articulated in the concrete reality of a church engaging with the world, as it exists at the margins. The church could not exist without engaging with the world; it is being fleshed out as Christ’s presence on the streets. This does not occur in a nice building, but in the messy, chaotic, unjust and often violent environment of street life. In this marginal reality, the FECH struggle with their ecclesial identity that inevitably shapes their missional perspectives. This contributes further insights into the public life of the church, as the FECH are not (anymore) merely seen as a passive beneficiary of the church’s social outreach, but as an agent participating in God’s mission. The familia Dei sheds light on how Jesus speaks to the FECH’s social life based on ancient kinship, to their religious activities and to their political engagement

55. See Bazzell, Toward a Creational Perspective on Poverty, pp. 237–8.

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and economical involvement. The ecclesial image of family in the Philippines has to be promoted carefully to avoid nurturing conflict with the institutional church. The ecclesial vision advocated here aims to break down some of the barriers between the institutional church, the State and families. Unlike many family structures that are based primarily on the close biological family, God’s family provides an ecclesiological model that aims for inclusiveness. Jesus intended not only that the Jewish people should proclaim that the kingdom of God is near, but that all those who gather around him and do God’s will should be included in the people of God, because he was breaking down the barriers of exclusion between Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor, priests and lay people, male and female, and the different religious groupings of his time. To illustrate this, Jesus elaborated on the kinship understanding of his time to explain insights about God’s family. The familia Dei envisions that the Church extends beyond one’s biological kinship group to a wider vision of God’s family. Such a Church not only nurtures one’s close identity of belonging but also contributes to a social vision for including the ‘Other’, the non-kinsmen. The familia Dei ecclesiology does not merely penetrate the cognitive ontology of the Filipino, but speaks to their intuitive sense of belonging. Mark’s mission was to encourage families to become new families reorganized around doing the will of God. Inevitably this will contribute to political changes, given the strong ties between the family and the State. The familia Dei is not just a private group, but is well suited to the public sphere. As parents raise and instill virtue in their children, they not only form the next generation of their family but influence the future of public affairs. Part of the mission of the familia Dei is to be the role model for parents and children, living out God’s kingdom of love, justice and mercy in the community. At the same time, it is marked by resistance to the ideological and cultural forces of greed and individualist consumerism and societal moral permissiveness. The familia Dei can instill values for civic duty. Because the children’s cultural map is shaped by their family demanding the deepest loyalties, the ecclesial vision of God’s new family has the potential to not only nurture a Church relevant to the FECH but a vessel for national transformation. As Timothy Lincoln put it, ‘A family makes up a community and a community makes up a nation.’56 Chapter 4 showed that the political reality of the Philippines is deeply affected by kinship. One anthropologist describes the Philippines as the ‘Anarchy of Families’.57 Anybody familiar with the Philippines knows that it is run by a few

56. Timothy Lincoln, ‘Ecclesiology, Marriage, and Historical Consciousness: The Domestic Church as an Ecumenical Opportunity’, New Theology Review No. 8/1, February (1995), pp. 59–63. 57. Anthropologist Robert B. Fox describes the Philippines as ‘an anarchy of families’. See Fox, Robert B., ‘The Study of Filipino Society and its Significance to Programs of Economic and Social Development’, Philippine Sociological Review No. 7, Issue 1/2 (1959), p. 6. This is also the title of Alfred W. McCoy’s more recent book, An Anarchy of Families: State and Family in the Philippines (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1998).

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families and therefore, to understand its political history and reality it should be examined through the paradigm of elite families.58 This was also the case with the political context of Mark’s audience, where for example patronage, a dominant aspect of politics, was closely linked to family ties. Patron–client relationships moved political relationships into the sphere of kinship59 and merged political and personal relationships.60 To further the colonizers’ interests in the Philippines, the Spaniards separated the Filipinos from others by ‘empowering’ a few elite families to run the country in their own personal interest. A rumour I keep hearing is that five families ‘own’ the Philippines. The underlying truth is that a great chasm exists between the elite and the masses, still today, because public policies often protect the powerful families. These powerful families in the Philippines have dominated political parties, have made major banks and national corporations into ‘glorified family corporations’, and control labour unions, Christian denominations and even the communist party.61 Often when a family gains political power they will be busy filling their pockets and making sure their interests and investments are protected, because in the next election they may lose their power to a rival family clan.62 In this context, I believe that if the churches in the Philippines were to adopt and develop the image of a new family, this would greatly resonate with their members and could contribute significantly to political transformation. The mission of the FECH as a familia Dei within their society is from kinsmen to non-kinsmen. Mission can be described as an adoption process. Injustice, unequal power relations and poverty are framed within familia language of sharing, solidarity and belonging. The familia Dei becomes the focal point for participating in the life and mission of the Church. At the same time, the familia Dei also provides an ecumenical vision where one recognizes different families, but due to having the same heavenly Father and Christ in their midst, it embraces the smaller families as being part of ONE big family of God. The familia Dei provides an ecclesial framework that may become a legitimate contribution to Christian unity. Where institutional policies and doctrines add difficulties to ecumenical dialogue, the inclusive framework of the familia Dei nurtures unity in great diversity for the sake of the inclusion of the non-kinsmen into God’s kingdom. Or to state it in Bernard Häring’s words, ‘The family is the

58. Ibid., p. 1. 59. Bruce J. Malina, ‘Patron and Client: The Analogy Behind the Synoptic Theology’, Forum 4 No. 1 (1988), p. 8. 60. Halvor Maoxnes, ‘Patron–Client Relations and the New Community in Luke-Acts’, The Social World of Luke-Acts: Models for Interpretation (ed. Jerome H. Neyrey; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1991), pp. 244–6. 61. See McCoy, An Anarchy of Families, p. 8. 62. Waiden Bello, The Anti-Development State: The Political Economy of Permanent Crisis in the Philippines (Quezon City, Philippines: University of the Philippines, 2004), p. 284.

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place where religion and life is either integrated or condemned to hopeless separation.’63 The familia Dei is a culturally relevant way to be a witness in the Filipino social world and at the same time presents a great challenge to family life to embody Christ’s presence. The mission of the familia Dei is to reach out to all who are gathered around Jesus Christ in repentance, seeking to do God’s will. Mission theologians hold that the triune God’s missional engagement provides the foundational motivation for God’s people participating in the missio Dei. The FECH’s expression of this differs from normal practice in traditional churches. Generally, when churches are moved by God’s love for the lost, being motivated by God to engage missionally with the world, they create various outreaches to the lost in their neighbourhood and send and support missionaries to work abroad. As the FECH reflect on the Great Commission, they seem to be motivated to reach out to their community. Their missional engagements may be limited by the lack of a wider perspective and by their daily struggle for survival; but there is something unique in their concern for their immediate context. Their lives and their church are lived out in their community. They do not go to a place to worship God, they do not go to another place for work and then come home to sleep and be with their family. Rather, all their lives are lived out within their community. When God moves by his Spirit to gather them around Christ, they immediately become missional. For example, the place where they gather for a Bible study is the place where they were sleeping the night before, the place they hang out, eat and where all their neighbours are as well. As the Spirit of God gathers them to worship God, they become a sign of God’s kingdom to their neighbours in that park. We have often seen that after a Bible study they go to other homeless people and share what they have learned with them. Other homeless individuals who where not present would come up to us and tell that the last study was supposed to be for them; for whatever reason they were not able to come but a friend told them about it. So as the FECH gather, they are motivated to be a witness to those who are in their network of relationships. Gathering around Jesus creates a space for God’s presence that confers a confession of Jesus Christ and a space to invite others to participate in that gathering. In the NT we see how the Church became the agent of world evangelization. It was not an effort of an individual but of God’s people; Jesus’ bride was the agent to live out and declare God’s reign in the world. When Jesus called his disciples, he did not call merely individuals to follow him, nor was his main focus on individual disciples. Rather, he formed a community of disciples. It is in this eschatological community that his followers become agents of transformation wherever they go. Again, God’s Trinitarian existence provides a model for the church as God’s agent. Only through Christ’s incarnation, through his obedience to God’s will that led to his death on a cross, are believers in him able to have eternal life. As the FECH obediently seek God’s reign in their lives and community, they inevitably influence

63. Bernhard Häring, What Does Christ Want? (Staten Island, NY: Alba House, 1968), p. 129.

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their networks of relationships for God’s glory. As they experience healing in their ecclesial community, I observed that they started to go through a healing process with others, like one runaway youth who told me after studying the story of the lost son, ‘this is me’. After several weeks of praying and asking God to help him forgive his parents, he was able to start a reconciliation process with them. It was also this youth, moved by the new spirit in the FECH, who started gathering all his street friends each week to study the Bible together. When the FECH reflected on the Lord’s Supper, one elder took the cup and bread and went around to the people he had hurt to ask for forgiveness and then to partake of the sacrament together. Another couple, filled with hatred for each other, in their reflection on the Eucharist were so moved by Jesus’ forgiveness for them that they started to forgive each other and participate in the sacrament together. The nature of the church among the FECH is reflected in their fellowship, based on being reconciled to God and having a shared desire to build God’s kingdom. The mission of the familia Dei becomes the ecclesial frame for reconciliation to God and to each other. The church uses various means to respond to God’s call to be his agent in bringing blessing to the world. I understand ‘means’ to include having to cross ‘various boundaries’. Wherever these boundaries are, the church must cross them to participate in the mission of the triune God in the world. For instance it must cross the boundary between kinsmen and non-kinsmen. At this stage, the FECH has been able to cross quite a few cultural, religious and ethnic boundaries for the sake of fulfilling the mission of the triune God in the world. The FECH’s mission within their society continues to be revealed as they profess their faith in Jesus Christ who reconciles them to each other and unites in himself without diminishing their diversity. 3. The Church’s Place in Society. So far I have described the FECH’s expression of church in relation to their identity and mission in society. This section seeks to describe how their ecclesial identity helps to position them within their context, with particular reference to the ecclesial frame of the familia Dei. As the church is an ‘open system’, its social-empirical reality is already interacting with the broader society of which it is a part. The unique ecclesial identity of the FECH creates unique tensions that, if addressed, can lead to transformation. Because the FECH are at the bottom, or on the outskirts of society, as is the case with most of the urban poor, they have become ‘hidden in plain sight’. They are ‘hidden’ in our view of society because even though we know they are there, we choose not to see them. As we walk by the beggar, the street kids sleeping, or the prostitute at night, they are part of the sights of our city but we have learned not to see them. If we really saw them in our daily lives, we would be confronted by a painful and hurtful reality. At the same time, the poor have embraced being not seen as a strategy to surviving life at the margins. No one has to tell them they are not welcome; they have accepted the reality of being unwanted and face daily the risks of rejection, being ignored, oppressed and humiliated. Listening to the voices of the FECH

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creates tensions in us, as they make us face our failure as a society. However, as I consider the empirical data, theologies and ecclesial reflections of the FECH and truly engage with their uncomfortable voices, I am challenged to make a personal response and to contribute to the transformation of the ecclesial reality and the public sphere. As the FECH organized themselves over the years, the government started to acknowledge them and ask them to form an official association. What the government perceived initially as individuals and families living on the streets is now officially recognized as a community. It was their ecclesial community structure that helped them get organized and start to advocate together for better access to government resources. The marginal voices of the FECH speak prophetically into the reality of society. If a person takes the time to listen, they will start to understand where social institutions (religious, political, educational, economical) nurture oppression, inequality and injustice towards those living at the margins. The empirical reality of the FECH and of any church is always most evident when they make contact with society. As any society continues to change, churches that lose their prophetic voices will only survive within a ‘closed system’. But an ‘open system’ allows for points of contact between churches and society which are often accompanied by some tensions. These tension-contacts are unavoidable if we are to work with the different public sectors for the common good of all, addressing issues of immorality, injustice, inequality and oppression. In the case of the FECH, the familia Dei is particularly well suited to this within the Filipino society, especially when it becomes a place of reconciliation, embracement and belonging.

II. Ecclesiology as Contextual Theology The third methodological step in the unfolding of the FECH’s developing ecclesiology is to examine the ecclesial contours described earlier in the contextual theology of the FECH. This explores the question: ‘How does the FECH adapt to its social context in light of the theological criteria gained from its New Testament inquiry?’ (a) Re-reading Ecclesiality in Light of the FECH’s Narrative In this study, the nature of the Church has been defined as a gathering of τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν κύκλῳ καθημένους (‘those seated in a circle around him’ [Jesus]) and are doing God’s will (Mark 3:34–35). This is, of course, a very basic definition as it excludes several important elements that many be considered to belong to the nature of the Church. As I started this research, reflecting on what Scripture, tradition and contemporary scholarship has to say about ecclesiality, I defined the Church as being one, holy, universal and apostolic community of the disciples of Jesus Christ worldwide, gathered in the confession of the name of Jesus Christ through the work of the Holy Spirit, around Word, worship, prayers, sacraments, communal

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sharing and instruction as a fellowship of those being reconciled to God and each other so as to participate in Jesus’ mission for the sake of God’s kingdom. I felt that this was a good expression of what the Church is which in many ways was nonnegotiable as a description of the nature of the Church. However, as I engaged in cross-cultural ministry and ecumenical ecclesiology, it dawned on me that although all these elements of the Church are essential to describe its identity, they could each be removed for the sake of the inclusion of the ‘Other’. Certainly this challenges many of our traditional theological assumptions, but from an ecumenical and cross-cultural perspective, many of the non-negotiable elements I included in my definition of the Church are not part of the ecclesiality of the Church. They describe the nature of the Church but they are not part of the esse (ecclesiality) of the Church. In Chapter 4, I started to discuss Miroslav Volf ’s exegesis of Matthew 18:20, in which he defines the church as; Where two or three are gathered in Christ’s name, not only is Christ present among them, but a Christian church is there as well, perhaps a bad church, a church that may well transgress against love and truth, but church nonetheless.64

The definition of the church above based on Mark 3:34–35 resonates with Volf ’s exegetical work on Matthew 18:20. At the centre is Christ and the promise that if two or three are gathered (circle) around him, his presence will be there. Christ’s presence is mediated through the confession of Christ’s name; he is the esse of the Church. As Ignatius stated, ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia (Where Christ is, there is the church). When Paul encountered the risen Lord Jesus Christ on his journey to Damascus, Jesus asked him, ‘Why do you persecute me?’ (Acts 9:4; par. 22:7; 26:14). This indicated Christ’s identification as being the object of the Church, and therefore Paul’s persecution of the Church was a persecution of Jesus Christ himself.65 Bonheoffer rightly states that the church exists because of Christ. He elaborated, In and through Christ the church is established in reality. It is not as if Christ could be abstracted from the church; rather, it is none other than Christ who ‘is’ the church. Christ does not represent it; only what is not present can be represented. In God’s eyes, however, the church is present in Christ. Christ did not merely make the church possible, but rather realized it for eternity’.66

Christ assures us of his presence with those who gather around him, confessing his name (for example through the sacraments, worship, prayers, preaching, service to

64. Volf, After Our Likeness, p. 136, italics in original. 65. See Roland Y. K. Fung, ‘Body of Christ’, Dictionary of Paul and His Letters (eds Gerald F. Hawthorne, Ralph P. Martin and Daniel G. Reid; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1993). 66. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, p. 157.

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the poor, etc.). The confession of his name necessitates a proper biblical cognitive identification of Jesus Christ as we are united with Christ by the Spirit and participate in His life, death and resurrection. A confession of his name requires us to μετνοεῖ τε καὶ πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίὼ (Mk. 1:15; ‘Repent and believe the good news’) to leave one’s old life (Mk. 1:17) in order to become part of God’s family. At the heart of gathering around Jesus Christ is the seeking and doing of God’s will. Luke interprets doing God’s will as ‘those who hear God’s word and put it into practice’ (Lk. 8:19; Mat. 12:50). As the familia Dei reflects and originates in the trinitarian foundation of the church, our confession of faith is an expression of our obedience to the Triune God. This language of the familia Dei also brings confession of Christ’s name into ordinary life that seeks to honour God and live in obedience to God’s will. Confession is not merely about the use of words but also leads to actions that transform ordinary life under the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Moreover, the confession of the ordinary life implies a journeying community of God’s people (in continuity with the people of Israel) who are being reconciled to God and each other as a pilgrim Church. As Van Engen rightly pointed out, the church is on a missional pilgrimage, and hence, it cannot be defined in static terms.67 The simple definition above of the ecclesiality of the church is also helpful in that there has always been new church movements which looked very different from traditional churches, as seen in the Protestant movement, the Pentecostal movement or more recently the Emerging Church or even the Insider movements. Quite often, there was and is a tendency to judge such developments as unbiblical, because they look so different from previously existing churches. However, as ecclesial vitality becomes evident and institutional forms take shape, these new forms of churches start to be more widely accepted. Having the simple esse of the Church in mind might prevent one from judging other churches too quickly and help acknowledge that despite being far from embodying the love and truth of the church, these new forms might still be a church, even if it might be a bad one. Nevertheless, while the definition above is minimal, it still allows for a healthy exclusion (heresy) as only those are included who have confessed through repentance that Christ is their Lord and Saviour. As Volf continues describing the ecclesiality of the Church, he starts adding descriptions of the esse (being) of the Church. In summary, he defines the ecclesiality of the church as follows: Every congregation that assembles around the one Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord in order to profess faith in him publicly in pluriform fashion, including through baptism and the Lord’s Supper, and which is open to all churches of God and to all human beings, is a church in the fullest sense of the word, since Christ promised to be present in it through his Spirit as the first fruits of the gathering of the whole people of God in the eschatological reign of God.68 67. Van Engen, God’s Missionary People, p. 68. 68. Volf, After Our Likeness, p. 158.

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Confession of faith in Jesus as Saviour and Lord is the central mark of the Church and in the ecumenical spirit nurtures an openness to other churches and all human beings. However, in light of his and above discussion on the ecclesiality of the Church, I disagree with Volf ’s proposal to include the sacraments, specifically baptism and the Lord’s Supper, as part of the indispensable condition for ecclesiality.69 In this respect his definition falls into the same exclusive pattern as he articulates it within his context (a dialogue with Catholic, Orthodox and Free Church ecclesiology). To embrace Volf ’s argument would be to reject many other churches, such as the Society of Friends (the Quakers) or the Salvation Army as they do not practise either baptism or the Lord’s Supper (they see the sacraments as being inward, not outward acts).70 The sacraments, as well as the office (Volf agrees with this part) describe the bene esse (well-being) of the Church, but not its esse (being). Ecclesiality defines the absolute minimum for what makes a church a church. If rituals (sacrament, office) describe the esse of the Church, this will exclude churches that from the point of view of ecclesial vitality are much more Church than many of the churches that might be embraced in mine or Volf’s more comprehensive definition of church. Ecclesiality gives a minimalistic statement of church versus non-church. But if we talk about the bene esse (well-being) of the Church, in my opinion, the sacramental is essential, as well as living a simple life, hospitality, communal sharing, worship, prayers, the presence of the Word of God, servanthood, advocating justice and caring for the poor. These are some aspects of the bene esse that describe a healthy and mature church. However, if some of these elements are missing, including the sacraments, but yet a gathering occurs of two or three people confessing Christ, there is a church nonetheless, even though something is defective in their ecclesiology. (b) Re-reading the Attributes in Light of the FECH’s Narrative The ecclesial narrative of the FECH offers new insights into the traditional attributes (one, holy, catholic and apostolic) of the Church. The FECH’s narrative

69. Volf, After Our Likeness, p. 152. To Volf ’s credit, he only accepts the sacraments as an indispensable condition of ecclesiality if they express the confession of faith and an expression of faith. This later part of the confession and expression of faith are indispensable conditions of ecclesiality. Also, Volf navigates through streams of comparison between the Catholic, Orthodox and Free church ecclesiology in order to argue for a proper trinitarian understanding of ecclesiality. I assume that Volf ’s definition of ecclesiality that theologically legitimates the Free church ecclesiology is a response to the Catholic and Orthodox description of the ecclesiality of the church. 70. Similarly, Luther and Calvin did the same in their definition of the nature of the Church as a response to their historical context addressing the ubi ecclesia, ibi Christus. Even though the Roman Catholic Church had all the indispensable conditions for ecclesiality, they emphasized the notae ecclesia as the right preaching of the Word (doctrine) and faithful administration of the sacraments (baptism and the Lord’s Supper) to ensure Christ’s presence in their midst.

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brings hope for our Christian unity. The Church is one as ‘there is also one hope held out in God’s call to you: one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all’ (Eph. 4:4–6; see 1 Cor. 10:17; Jn 10:16). The familia Dei provides a good metaphor to understand and work towards the unity of the church for the sake of our witness to the world of God’s kingdom. In natural families, quite often, family members stay part of the family, even when they are disliked and differ from the rest of the family. However, even if they are rejected or even disowned due to these differences or their behaviour, in the end they are still part of the same family. Similarly, in the Church, one can assert doctrinal difference and justify the exclusion of others, but that does not change the fact that both belong to the family of God and it seems the wrong way to honour Jesus’ prayer for unity in John 17:22. As the FECH have been experimenting with being a multicultural and even multi-religious community, they still come together around Christ; and so we are challenged by Christ’s resurrection work to seek reconciliation with those on the margins for the sake of the unity of the Church. Instead of expecting the body of Christ to believe what we do and to behave in our preferred way, let us advocate an inclusive Christology that moves beyond boundaries for the sake of God’s family. We may still recognize the ‘black sheep’ in our family, there always will be some, but they are family and belong with us. Let us work towards reconciliation, solidarity and love, so that the familia Dei can be the concrete expression of church of what the kingdom of God looks like within our society. To be willing to listen to the FECH poses a challenge to our understanding of the holiness of the church. The church is holy because we ‘were washed, [we] were sanctified, [we] were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God’ (1 Cor. 6:11; see Eph. 5:25–27). The holiness in the familia Dei is expressed in mutual self-giving love and the covenantal relationship dedicated to each other. As seen in the FECH’s narrative, holiness does not require perfection, but despite brokenness, hearts dedicated to God allow his holiness to be embodied in that community. Holiness must be seen as an embrace of the stranger and the marginal person. Writing on the church, Jürgen Moltmann explains that: of the coming kingdom of glory its sanctification lies in its call to service, to suffering and to poverty. If God’s strength ‘is made perfect in weakness’ (2 Cor. 12:9) then his holiness is also might in poverty . . . So the Church too will only be poor in this sense if it consecrates everything it has to service for the kingdom of God, investing it in the messianic mission to the world (1 Cor. 15:43).71

This does not mean that the Church is holy because it is poor, or because it is given alms and development aid by the rich, or is mainly a Church for the poor. But

71. Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, p. 356.

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rather, Moltmann emphasizes that true Christian poverty is about the fellowship of the poor and with the poor; a fellowship that is marked with the messianic mission and hope for the kingdom.72 Following Moltmann’s thoughts, we may then say that the Church must make herself poor, if she is to be holy, because she must relinquish all to God in order to be sanctified. The Church is holy in her embrace of the stranger and marginal persons as they embody and make known the holy. The ecclesial narrative of the FECH reveals that as the Church is catholic, we need to be careful and listen attentively to marginal narratives. The Church is not catholic in its centralized institutional power, but rather it is catholic in its inclusive schema of embracing all who confess Christ as Lord, Gentile or Jew, male or female, rich or poor, residential living or non-residential as Christ is all, and is in all (Col. 3:11). Pope John Paul II insightfully said: Catholicity is not only expressed in the fraternal communion of the baptized, but also in the hospitality extended to the stranger, whatever his religious belief, in the rejection of all racial exclusion or discrimination, in the recognition of the personal dignity of every man and woman and, consequently, in the commitment to furthering their inalienable rights.73

Without these prophetic marginal voices, we exclude those that Christ has chosen to incarnate his presence. It is these marginal ecclesial narratives that help us embody and proclaim the fullness of faith in Christ. Finally, as we listen to the FECH narratives and any other marginal ecclesial narratives, they nurture a better understanding of what it means for the Church to truly preach the apostolic gospel. The Church is apostolic as it embodies the narratives of the broken, the hurting, the sick, the poor, the rejected and the oppressed. The Church is apostolic as it is sent by Christ himself to proclaim the gospel. As in the FECH’s story, the rejected, unwanted and humiliated community becomes an agent of proclaiming God’s good news, as found in the apostolic gospel and as embodied in the apostolic Church. (c) Re-reading the Notae Externae in Light of the FECH’s Narrative In Chapter 5, we observed that the essential nature of the Church is not only perceived but it comes to be when its community fulfills their purpose of being. This coming alive and fulfilling the purpose for which the Church exists is revealed in the notae ecclesia, which includes the notae externae represented in the koinonia, diakonia, kerygma, martyria and leitourgia. Surely, the mystery of the Church

72. Ibid. 73. John Paul II, Message for the 85th World Migration Day (1999), available from http:// www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/messages/migration/documents/hf_jp-ii_ mes_22021999_world-migration-day–1999_en.html (accessed 29 April 2013).

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cannot be framed with these typological categories, yet traditionally they have been recognized as a description of what one finds in the Church.74 Koinonia describes a close community of fellowship with each other that is mirrored in the koinonia of the Trinity. In the ecclesial narrative of the FECH, koinonia becomes an important descriptor of their identity. From the empirical description of their community it became obvious that it differs from residential communities, their lives are an open book to all living on the streets and a close sense of community exists to protect each other and for the mere survival of individuals and families. In valuing relationship with those on the margins in mutual support, equality, integrity and dignity, they are affirming the koinonia among each other. Where oppressive institutions, structure and people attempt to remove dignity and integrity from the poor for their own gain, koinonia engages with the margins. The church becomes alive and fulfills its purpose as broken relationships are restored to each other and God. Reconciliation becomes a major theme in their ecclesial community. Koinonia is being participated in as they extend God’s extraordinary grace to each other. This is not always a story of great success, but of brokenness and wounds and of relationships that seek God’s help for each other. But it is an honest story that is not only being lived out in meeting as the church once on Sunday for worship or during the week in a Bible study, but in a daily struggle to be church in their daily interactions, practices and surviving life together. Diakonia is generally understood to mean service, being a servant or referring to the Church’s identity and mandate of being a community of servants. In the FECH’s narrative, an internal and external diakonia emerges. In their daily survival we see a sacrificial act of internal diakonia as they become elders of seeking the welfare beyond themselves and their family to serve the wider community. External diakonia emerges where issues of justice and mercy are addressed that affect their community, for example when FECH’s elders and members accompany other members to public offices to help them gain justice and mercy. But moreover, which is still lacking in the FECH’s narrative, diakonia needs to go beyond their own community in being a servant of Christ to others in faithfully proclaiming the good news. Kerygma is central to any ecclesial community as it is the message of Jesus Christ proclaiming God’s reign. The kerygma is the foundation we stand on, Christ’s work on the cross and his resurrection. The good news of Jesus Christ has often been the only hope the poor are holding on to. In great suffering, pain and injustice, the kerygma gives strength holding on to the suffering Christ and the eschatological hope of his return. And even though they face a daily struggle to survive, the FECH hold on to the truth of Jesus Christ in the hope for a better future and a companion in their sufferings. Martyria is about the Church embodying Christ to the world in a tangible, real, visible and effective way. Being a testimony of Christ to the world is the Church

74. Bernard Lee and Michael Cowan, Gathered and Sent: The Mission of Small Church Communities Today (New York/Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2003), p. 74, see 75–90.

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seeking to be a witness in participation with, or in imitation of Christ. In the FECH’s narrative, they, like many other traditional churches, are often a more caring community focused on the inner life, instead of being a witness to the world, inevitably limiting being fully alive and fulfilling their existing purpose to embody Christ as a witness to the world. Leitourgia is deeply integrated by the ecclesial community, forming their ecclesial practices and rituals (see ‘Ecclesial Practices of the FECH’, p. 222). But as stated before, leitourgia are not only rituals of worship and practices emerging from their community to strengthen their identity but should be embraced in action as their martyria in the world. Then, when the FECH gathers on the sidewalks, in the middle of the park or in the roundabout in the middle of a street corner to confess together Christ’s lordship and worship him, their leitourgia becomes a testimony of God’s grace and good news to the public urban space. Where roads, sidewalks and roundabouts are used for transportation in urban life, the FECH transform these spaces declaring God’s reign over their city. In the next chapter will be further explore the nature and implications of the FECH’s ecclesiology.

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Chapter 7 A C H U R C H I N T H E ‘F I L I P I N O’ C O N T E X T S

The late Filipino Bishop Francisco F. Claver, in his book The Making of the Local Church, discusses the importance of the Church being in Asia and being of Asia. This occurs when the church in Asia engages in a triple dialogue with religions, cultures and the poor. For the Church to take a ‘Filipino face’, it needs to be embedded in and integrated into its societal context.1 The emphasis is not merely on the location of the church; but rather the ‘church’s self-understanding and its mode of being’.2 This reflective process of self-understanding is the locus for the church in the Philippines to become more the church of the Philippines. The FECH’s case study presents such a search for self-understanding, leading to ecclesiological vitality that carries significance and hopefully will have impact beyond the FECH. While they develop themes that are relevant to their own context, their unique outlook on ecclesial reality is relevant for the Church elsewhere. In the Philippines, the development of a communal dimension of faith with its emphasis on interpersonal relationships resonates well with ecclesiology. Kinship is the basic element of any Filipino community and the FECH’s ecclesial narrative reveals how their self-understanding of being Church is being formed by a kinship (familia Dei) vision. The ecclesiology of the FECH discloses that the traditional cultural value that dictates relationship and behaviour is being transformed. For example, whereas previously traditional kinship distinguished between kinsmen and non-kinsmen, a new ecclesial self-understanding is being formed that breaks down such kinship barriers. Whereas previously traditional honour-shame values directed one’s life decisions and relationships, a new self-understanding in Christ is being formed that freely embraces shameful suffering for the sake of finding God’s honour. As we listen and engage with these themes and contours, we can all learn something new. Not in the sense of new teachings or doctrines, but in terms of new

1. Francisco Claver, The Making of a Local Church (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2008), p. 2. 2. Peter C. Phan, ‘Reception of and Trajectories for Vatican II in Asia’, in Theological Studies Vol. 74, No. 2 (2013), p. 305.

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insights and new ways of understanding Church and God in our midst. We can learn not only from the positive aspects of the FECH’s ecclesial narrative, but also from their shortcomings and failures. Not for the purpose of judgement, but rather, that the imagery of the ‘otherness’ reflects whether these shortcomings also exist in our own ecclesial narrative. In either case, this requires an intentional dialogue with the FECH’s marginal perspective on being church. Therefore, the dynamic of the ecclesial vitality within this urban space contains distinct semantic implications that go beyond this church locale. These concluding reflections describe several implications we can draw from the FECH’s narratives.

I. Contemporary Paradigms in Urban Mission As many benefit from urban life, many others live in spaces within cities that can be read as ‘a landscape of exclusion’. As God opts for the least in our cities, so as the body of Christ we are called to serve those who experience injustice, oppression, exploitation, brokenness and violence in these urban spaces. Thus, the study brings focus to those at the bottom of urban societies, those who are experiencing homelessness. The urban theology developed in this study is one rooted in praxis, emerging from reflection of a marginal community on being church in the city. Earlier I outlined seven main paradigms that shape different approaches and strategies to serve the homeless population. The ecclesial-oriented paradigm3 is theologically and missionally underdeveloped. Missional engagement with the homeless population is often very shallow. Evangelistic outreaches and benevolent services are provided, but seldom are any attempts made to go deeper. Institutional churches in the cities have often become content with being service providers. At the same time, the homeless population has accepted this relationship with the churches in simply receiving whatever is given. These are the Syrophoenician women of today. They want the blessings of God but have settled for and even embraced the ‘dog’ status. This study attempts to break down social, religious and cultural barriers so as to embrace these urban poor at the messianic table. As the institutional church comes 3. The SO team has been using the ecclesial-oriented approach among other street-level communities, which include the youth gangs, street children, and those in the sex-trade (female, gays, male and children) and found it applicable, relevant and fruitful in developing ecclesial communities. Nevertheless, this study does not comprehensively address what constitutes an ecclesial-oriented paradigm. The data it gathered and analysed are from one particular context, and hence, only sketch out some preliminary concepts of a theoretical construct. My hope is that this preliminary research will encourage the development of the ecclesial-oriented paradigm in other contexts. Though the analysis of data collected for this case suggest the relevancy of an ecclesial-oriented paradigm for addressing the reality of communities on the streets, future comparative research is needed as that would yield data that either further enhances the ecclesial-oriented paradigms in other contexts, or narrows it down to the street-communities in Davao.

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alongside some of these marginal communities, the marginal churches are often quite eager to embrace mediators that help them remind them about Christ and disciple them according to God’s will. Instead of being merely the beneficiaries in the body of Christ, some of these communities mature into ecclesial identities themselves, asking penetrating theological questions about who Christ is for them and what it means to follow him. These theological reflections are not only transformative for their own lives, but can be transformative impulses for the wider body of Christ. Instead of staying hidden in our society, their voices now contribute to the prophetic call for our cities to repent and embrace a vision of becoming just, peaceful and loving cities. The research contributes to a better understanding of the ecclesial-oriented paradigm by providing empirical, theological and ecclesial data of the FECH’s selfunderstanding as church. This project compensates for the deficiencies of current urban missional paradigms by ascertaining data for urban practitioners and church planters as they engage missionally with the homeless population.4 Very little sociological and anthropological research has been done into street-level urban communities. Although the social phenomenon of homelessness and its related issues have been of high interest to researchers, yet limited data exist on the social network of these groupings. Methodologically, this is probably based in traditional focus on the individuals and families on the streets, while neglecting to see beneath the underlying mechanics of their networks. If the analysis includes the structure of the social network, more often the focus is on those facing homelessness in relation to the residential entities (for example families, friends, neighbours, shelters, and other institutions). By contrast, I sought to describe the common life, identity, language and practices of the research community. The findings presented in Chapter 4 are significant because they offer important implications for policy and practice. They describe the FECH’s empirical contours, including their communal identity, their interpersonal relationship patterns and the underlying cultural themes, as well as the external and internal features affecting their daily life as a community. Their communal identity is shaped by a common quest for survival, protection and mutual support, resulting in close, emotionally intense relationships with each other. This clear description of a community that is facing homelessness not only advocates for the need of an ecclesial-oriented paradigm to serve the whole community, it also challenges church outreaches, public policies, educational programmes, economic projects and scholarly discourse that are mostly focused on individuals or families on the streets. For example, most Filipinos, including

4. Amelia Ada-Bucog and I have written an essay addressing specific disciplines and practices for urban practitioners and church planters working with the ecclesial-oriented paradigm. See Pascal D. Bazzell and Amelia Ada-Bucog, ‘Subversive Urban Spirituality in Asian Cities: Transforming Spiritual Discipline and Missional Practices’, Walking With God: Christian Spirituality in the Asian Context (ed. Charles Ringma; Quezon City, Philippines: OMF Literature Inc. and Asian Theological Seminary, 2014).

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those in the public sector (business, government, education), are not aware of the street-level communities. Two of my Filipino research assistants, both working full-time in the public education sector, were surprised to learn of the existence of street-level communities. In our discussion, they started imagining how the education department could help them. It is especially encouraging when marginal voices are heard and others in society seek an appropriate response. The empirical description of the FECH raises important questions for further research in how outreaches can be developed, policies and practices that work with the street-level social network, a process that affirms their dignity and integrity for more relevant and effective implications of changes. In particular, social structural changes are needed that address oppressive practices, unjust structures and access to resources to improve the quality of life on the streets. Many great books have been written about starting church plant activities among residential urban poor communities. However, as I argued, when it comes to street-level urban poor communities the mindset typically right away rejects their community and lifestyle as unsuitable, an environment where no discipleship can occur and no church should exist. However, as the FECH’s case study reveal and many other global grassroot voices are pointing out, it is possible to grow in faith in God and be Church while living on the streets.

II. Embodied Ecclesiology in a Local Context: Ramifications At the heart of this study is something much deeper than discussing the question of church planting among the homeless population. It is neither about finding better missional strategies nor new forms of being Church; nor a reaction to or rejection of centre ideological theologies and practices; nor is it about a new theology. This study is something much more modest and at the same time exciting. The emphasis here lies not on an ecclesiocentric (church-centred) ecclesiology but as what Asian theologians have already pointed out the need for a regnocentric (kingdom-of-God centred) way of being Church. Peter Phan explains that it is a move away from focusing on establishing new church organizations, instituting structural reforms or theoretical ecclesiology. Rather, the main emphasis is seeking ways of ‘being church that are appropriate to the sociopolitical, economic, cultural, and religious contexts of Asia’.5 It is the missio Dei being the locus of a local church that becomes a sign of the kingdom (ecclesiocentric) and seeking ‘the likeness of the kingdom in the transformation of society and culture’6 (regnocentric). The

5. Peter C. Phan, ‘Reception of and Trajectories for Vatican II in Asia’, in Theological Studies Vol. 74, No. 2 (2013), p. 315. 6. Ralph Del Colle, ‘The Church’, The Oxford Handbook of Systematic Theology (eds John Bainbridge Webster, Kathryn Tanner and Iain Torrance; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), p. 255.

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exciting move is where the poor themselves become the agents of ecclesiogensis. It is the Holy Spirit working on drawing the exploited, hungry, marginalized, oppressed, into a messianic community that gathers around Jesus Christ.7 In this too violent, abusive and oppressive context, a community facing homelessness through the promptings of the Spirit and Christ’s salvific work is experiencing an ‘ecclesiogensis’, – ‘the birth, the genesis, of a new church’.8 (a) Local Ecclesiological Methodology Revisited In this study I attempted to describe the ecclesiological integration of the FECH from theoretical, theological and sociological perspectives. Chapter 3 investigated the Scripture, traditions, and different historical/contemporary debates about the understanding of the Church’s ecclesiality, and identified indispensable ecclesial contours. These included the Church’s relation to Israel, the images of the Church, the eschatological reality of the Church, ecclesial fruitfulness, the notae internae (unity, holiness, catholicity and apostolicity), the notae externae (koinonia, diakonia, kerygma, martyria and leitourgia) and the ecclesiological proposition ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia (where Christ is, there is the church). To avoid an abstract idealistic ecclesiology, a local ecclesiological methodology has been emphasized focusing on the concrete reality of the Church. The indispensable ecclesial contours were then re-read in light of the Church’s social and political Sitz im Leben (setting in the life of the people). This created the ecclesial theoretical frame of this study that asks: ‘What are the contours of Church that emerge among the FECH?’ with the follow up question: ‘How are they expressed within the specificity of the FECH?’ Listening to the FECH’s ecclesiological narrative and their re-reading of these delineating facets illuminates their Church’s identity, mission and place in society. Throughout this work I have developed a local ecclesiological methodology that aims to bridge a gap between more traditional ecclesiology and empirical ecclesiology. Classical ecclesiology is generally concerned with the ‘deep-level’ meaning of the essence of the Church, which yields a tendency to use ideal abstractions apart from its concrete ecclesial reality. On the other hand, congregational studies often focus on the ecclesiastics of the church (forms of doing church), which may yield a more ‘surface-level’ meaning of the nature of the Church. A local ecclesiological methodology aims to hold together theological and social understandings of the church in its local reality in order to deepen our understanding of the Church. In particular, it creates a framework for the church to articulate its ecclesiologies, while being attentive to its ecclesial practices, traditions, culture, narratives, understandings, relationships and symbols. This method aims to discern Christ incarnating among the believers’ socio-cultural environment.

7. See Boff, Ecclesiogenesis, p. 28. 8. Ibid., p. 35.

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The result of this intradisciplinary approach enables an ecclesial community to reflect on who they are (the essence of identity studies), who they are in relationship to God (the essence of theological studies) and what that means for believers in that community as they relate to God and to each other in ways that are true to who they are and to who God intends them to be (the essence of ecclesial studies). Methodologically, even though I used sociological and anthropological themes and tools, the primary focus has been theological, to identify and examine the socio-cultural, theological and ecclesial contours that express the FECH’s self-understanding as ‘church.’ In this case study, the local ecclesiological methodology yielded a relevant theological frame for the FECH. Too often with new forms of church or ecclesial movements, missionaries and/or church planters focus on a shallow form of contextual church. Meaning that emphasis on contextual church is given to represent the local cultural and religious rituals, language and lifestyle (for example cultural or religious adoptions of forms of worship, literature, cultural sensitive clothing, languages and so forth). Many studies on contextual church focus on adapting cultural or religious forms and languages but fail to take the next steps to look at the church’s role and place in society. The local ecclesiological methodology aims to develop a deeper local theology of church that encompasses contextual practices and languages as it seeks ways to transform its societal surrounding. The emphasis of local ecclesiological methodology on the notae ecclesiae deepens its roots in the identity of Jesus Christ (ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia) while looking outward to seeking transformation in every aspect and facet of society and life, addressing issues such as injustice, oppressive structures, education realities, politics, kinship systems and so forth. This is not to say the FECH’s narrative exhibited a perfect example, as seen in the previous chapters. But it seeks to move the discussion beyond a merely culturally relevant and biblically rooted ecclesiology to one that missionally engages with its societal surrounding. I attempted an intra-disciplinary approach aimed at dialogue between socialscience paradigms, religious symbols and theological motifs on the one hand and a communal reality with actual believers gathering on the other hand. The local ecclesiological methodology employing theological and non-theological approaches aimed to discern both the theological and empirical reality of Christ taking form in the FECH, as this is the place where Christ’s Church is. (b) Ecclesiality in the Locality of the Church Revisited As discussed in Chapter 2, ecclesiality is the distinctive mark of the Church that distinguishes it from being merely a social club or religious gathering. Yet, in light of the methodological framework discussed above, the discourse on the ecclesiality of the Church should be done in relation to the empirical Church. The importance of ecclesiality in locality is based on the facts that neither Scripture provides a precise definition of Church nor do the indispensible ecclesial markers allow for a static and fixed definition. This gives space to examine ecclesiality in the locality of the Church.

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Eric C. Stewart’s work, Gathered Around Jesus,9 examines the spatial presentation of the Gospel of Mark. Stewart comes to the conclusion in studying the gospel that church exists as Jesus creates a new space for the kingdom of God in gathering people around himself. This is similar to the ecclesiological perceptions of the FECH reported in this study. However, Stewart would disagree with the concept of the familia Dei as alternate space of Jesus’ new gathering and would emphasize a spatial location that is frequently to be found in wilderness or mountainous areas, places to which the control of civilized centres often do not extend. Yet, as argued above, ecclesiality is not merely embodied in an alternate spatial practice that is centred in abstraction on Jesus himself, as Stewart seems to emphasize, but an alternate spatial practice that is centred around him that is embodied in the societal cultural form. The locality in that sense frames the contextual alternate spatial practice. Not that locality is the starting point of church, Jesus Christ is. Ecclesiality is the space of Christ’s presence but locality discerns Christ taking form where actual people are gathering around Jesus in their cultural form. In the case of the FECH, this occurs in the familia Dei. In a different locality, the wilderness, borderlands, temple, or synagogue might be a better cultural form in which Christ is embodied to that particular people gathering around himself. Or, as explored in Chapter 3, a culmination of imagery or cultural forms may emerge, not emphasizing merely one over the other. (c) Familia Dei Revisited In the FECH’s narratives of their ‘experiences, understandings, symbols, words, judgements, statements, decisions, actions, relationships, and institutions which define and distinguish churches’,10 a familia Dei imagery emerged. As the FECH resonate closely with the cultural and historical imagery of the familia Dei, I discussed the theological criteria used by the FECH in their familia Dei ecclesiology. The familia Dei does not merely penetrate the cognitive ontology of the Filipino, but it speaks to their intuitive sense of reality and belonging. In particular, it speaks to the FECH’s ecclesial narrative and informs their church’s identity, mission and place within their society. It also locates the developing ecclesiology of the FECH relative to ecclesial practices, orders, virtue and ethics. It is a narrative of Christ being fleshed out in their midst as the family of God (creating a tension of Christ taking form in, among and through them) and fleshing out a prophetic community, which challenges the cultural values and practices of their context and time. To be able to prophetically speak to the Filipino kinship politics, the church first needs to embrace a familia Dei vision. Prior to addressing the political hypocrisies, kinship rivalry, conjugal dictatorship and systems that neglect the poor, the church needs to examine its own hypocrisies, kinship rivalry and systems that may benefit

9. Eric Clark Stewart, Gathered Around Jesus: An Alternative Spatial Practice in the Gospel of Mark (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2009). 10. Komonchak, Foundations in Ecclesiology, p. 57.

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the few but surely do not advocate a Church of the poor. A familia Dei ecclesiology on the one hand resonates with the Filipino worldview, while on the other hand it also challenges their lived practice. The more the church embraces a familia Dei vision for their own ethos and structures, the more it truly becomes a prophetic community that is speaking out truth to society and the political kinship system as they speak out truth that is embedded in their own community. The familia Dei sheds light on how Jesus speaks to the FECH’s social life based on ancient kinship, to their religious activities and to their political engagement and economical involvement. This contributes further insights into the public life of the church, as the FECH are not (anymore) merely seen as a passive beneficiary of the church’s social outreach, but as an agent participating in God’s mission. The mission of the FECH as familia Dei within their society is from kinsmen to non-kinsmen. The themes developed by the familia Dei become not only relevant to their context, but may yield interesting insights to other contexts as well. Whereas Western ideas of family primarily are consumed with questions to re-define family and how it relates to Church, the Filipinos (or at least the FECH) seem to be facing faith issues relating to their kin within extended families. These are interesting conflicts, issues and concepts that are often also worked out in the New Testament world, where individualistic notions of family life may limit us from the Western tradition in our ability to see the fullness of faith being embodied in one’s family structure and meaning of embracing those outside our kinship. The familia Dei frame of reference implies participating in relationships that sharpen their awareness of Jesus’ presence in their midst. By embodying this vision as a family or a faith community, participants become oriented to gathering around Jesus. This entails a paradigm shift in how ‘church’ is perceived; from people going to a place to engage in religion to people using their established structure to create space for the presence of Christ in their midst. As the Church is not something apart from lived reality in an abstract space, a re-orientation around God’s will in Jesus Christ is required of the empirical world. The danger of this emphasis on locality of structure (for example family) is, of course, that it can become an acceptance of culture, particularly in the Filipino shame/honour culture of non-confrontation, accepting values that are not Christ transformed. However, the emphasis of a gathering of Jesus is the re-orientation of one’s life around doing God’s will. A Spirit-orientated formation of the individual, family and community is expected in this gathering. It is a declaration of Christ’s lordship in all realms of culture. It is in the intensity of family life with each other, in the struggle of embracing the stranger, that a theology of love is embraced and lived out. The family imagery shows us a metaphor of stories where family members have made mistakes but have been embraced unconditionally; family members went to prison and the family journeyed with them, family members have fallen into great sins but are still regarded as part of the family. The true solidarity that many healthy families give to their members is an imagery of the Church that not through blood but through the name of Jesus Christ extends true solidarity to the sinners, to the oppressed, to the alien, stranger, the sick, the handicapped and those in prison. If the biological

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family embraces a difficult, misunderstood, addicted, inflicted family member, how much more should the familia Dei. The familia Dei contributes to its members’ intentional awareness and participation of God’s gracious presence as they follow Christ’s path of becoming more like him (Eph. 5:1–2) in character and relating to each other the way Christ is modelled, displaying the fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22–23). The Christian family is Church when its members are transformed into the likeness of Christ. The uniqueness of the familia Dei then not only becomes a place of transmission of orthodoxy (right belief) and orthopraxy (right practice), but also for orthopathy (right affections).11 Orthopathy addresses the heart, emotions and feelings. Whereas the church has often focused on ensuring right biblical beliefs (orthodoxy) and practices (orthopraxy), the matters of the heart with all its emotions and afflictions have been neglected. The intensity created by the proximity of the familia Dei will expose members not only to the right belief (orthodoxy) and the application of that belief in their daily life and routines (orthopraxy), but also challenge them how these beliefs and practices are rightly expressed (orthopathy). As those who are gathering around Jesus, we are not only called to believe what is right (God’s will) and to do what is right, but also to have the right heart. Even though belief and behaviour are central to the Christian life, the essential feature is expressing love to God and the communal sharing of that love. It is in the love and empathies for the stranger, the marginalized and the alien that a genuine gathering around Jesus is expressed. How we treat the stranger talks to the emotional dimensions of our faith in Christ – something so central to the ontology of the Filipino. With orthopathy in mind, the familia Dei not only reinforces biblical beliefs and right spiritual formational practices, but develops a spirituality from the heart. The familia Dei imparts to its members a sense of belonging and provides a frame of order and practice that forms their identity in Christ. It develops ecclesial rituals, which are intentional practices to acknowledge God’s presence in their midst and relate to God. These practices in the family move beyond traditional church rituals (worship, the Lord’s supper, reading the bible, praying, service to other, etc.) to creating space for Christ in their family occasions (birthdays, anniversaries, reunions) as they become opportunities of gathering around Jesus. This creates memorable events nurturing meaningful practices that develop a vibrant faith in the family. On the other hand, family values and lifestyle might yield a limitation to pursue some spiritual rituals. For example, for the FECH, their life situation limits the practices of keeping the Sabbath as they feel they do not have the luxury to not work for a day, as they struggle each day for survival. They expressed their struggle to really set aside a day for the Lord and honour him in that way. Each familia Dei has to examine their practices, seeking to make intentional space in their daily routine to be disciples and make disciples for Christ, as one person said, ‘how else will our children ever follow the footsteps of Christ if we cannot model it for them’. 11. Steven J. Land, Pentecostal Spirituality: A Passion for the Kingdom (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), pp. 43–4.

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As the familia Dei take time to listen and be open to the guidance of the Spirit forming their ecclesial practices, these practices transmit Christ-like values and reinforce their beliefs. The family that is gathering around Jesus is nurturing an identity that is building around relational ties to Jesus and not mere doctrinal ideas about him that are handed down by creedal traditions. The familia Dei is geared towards the vision of embodying the kingdom of God in their midst. The key issue for the familia Dei then becomes the willingness to not exist for their own sake, preserving their own family tree, but to be open to a transformation into the likeness of Christ. Where the members develop practices to discern Christ taking form in their midst and participate in the reconciliation of the pneumatological presence of Christ in the missio Dei for and with this world. The familia Dei points towards a different way of life, a different set of values. Whereas family has been gathered around culturally appropriate shame and honour values, a family gathering around Jesus aims to examine its values and ways in order to bring to light any form that is contrary to God’s will, such as oppression and corruption within a kinship system. As the familia Dei discerns Christ’ presence in their midst, the Spirit aims to work through egoistic motives to transform them into loving their neighbour and becoming a family of God that desires to be ecclesially fruitful in their context. To be ecclesially fruitful addressing family in any context, the Church’s vision and teaching needs to address the issues and problems that modern families face today, such as marriage with non-believers, interfaith marriage, same-sex marriage, single parenthood, domestic violence, child abuse and so forth. Regarding the Philippines, further research that addresses societal expectations of family life (for example honour/shame values, kinship priority contributing to corruption, etc.) in relation to the church is needed. Research is desirable to inquire further into what are some ways the institutional church can more intentionally come alongside families to nurture transformation into the likeness of Christ, while at the same time be less judgemental and more supportive and help in the healing process of those who cannot fulfill the ideal. This is not to deny the crisis of many modern families, but maybe we could be more like the model of Jesus. In his encounter with the Samaritan woman who was living in cohabitation outside marriage he nurtured a dialogue that pointed towards the Messiah (and not to her failure of meeting the ideal of family) and sowed into her the gospel of new life that turned her around to becoming a missionary to her own people. There are many dilemmas facing a hierarchical church as it is working through changes of its structure, practices, programmes and ethos to embrace a more familia Dei vision. But embracing this vision also nurtures new possibilities and those opportunities may lead to more faithful embodiments of Christ in the world. (d) Ecclesial Narratives Contribution to Intercultural Theology Intercultural theology is concerned with the dialectical interaction in an interstitial space on divine truth (traces of the missio Dei in history) and human experience

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(contextual interpretations regarding Christian faith).12 In that ‘Third Space’ (Homi Bhabba) different local theologies face mutual learning experiences of negations and translations. Local ecclesial narratives should play a critical role in this constructive engagement of intercultural theology. These ecclesial narratives need to be distinguished from cultural and individual experiences. This is because, as Asian theologian Simon Chan points out, church history provides countless stories of examples where theology has been based on the private experience of individuals ‘whose claims to special revelation, when taken too seriously, led to disastrous consequences. Rather, ecclesial experience is the experience of the church, the whole people of God.’13 It is the hermeneutical community that fosters theology that becomes a locus of a community-forming power within their cultural setting. This theology is not merely about the community and their Sitz im Leben nor a theology for their community alone, but rather it is a communal theology that journeys with the community and their social, political, economic and cultural context. The articulation of such local theologies is an essential part of what is involved in the church in Asia becoming also the church of Asia. The hermeneutical community is not only key in these ecclesial narratives, but a guiding principle should also be that of doing hermeneutics with the poor (see Chapter  5). Chan explains that too often the well known Asian theologies are actually not based on the grassroots realities but based on a few Asian elitist theologians that are heavily influenced by Enlightenment philosophy or thinking (for example C. S. Song).14 He states that for all the ‘attempts to take grassroots theology seriously, the ‘global’ contexts are seen only through the lenses of elitist theologians who, as we have noted above, tend to impose their views on the grassroots and read their contexts selectively.’ 15 Therefore, marginal ecclesial narrative brings a critical awareness to intercultural theology by being attentive to the hermeneutical community and listening to the voices at the grassroots. The trenchant point of intercultural theology is the interstitial space where the universal body of Christ is coming together to deeply reflect on the signs of our times. To neglect this engagement would detach the church from her contemporary realities. The dialectical ecclesial narrative interaction in this interstitial space will be elaborate with the examples on split-level Christianity and the Church of the Poor. 1. Split-level Christianity: A Grassroots Theology Response. Elitist theologians have tackled the ‘big’ questions of society and church. For example, they developed a cosmic Christology that addresses liberation of the poor and marginalized and is inculturated in Asia’s culture and religion. Yet, Chan points out that they miss the 12. Volker Küster, Einführung in die Interkulturelle Theologie (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), p. 15. 13. Chan, Grassroots Asian Theology, pp. 27–8. 14. Ibid., p. 21. 15. Ibid., p. 28.

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crucial questions of how ordinary Christians experience Christ. For Chan, in examining well known Asian elitist theologians it becomes clear that they do not take seriously grassroots experiences or if they did, they have lost touch after being away for too many years and are still addressing the same issues they wrote about decades ago (for an example, see the revised version of Kosuke Koyama’s Waterbuffalo Theology, 1999). This point towards the serious disconnect between elitist and grassroots theology. Whereas for these elitist theologians, ‘liberation is freedom from poverty and political oppression’, for the ‘grassroots liberation is physical and psychospiritual: healing of bodies and freedom from the fear of evil spirits and fatalism. The Christ of elite theologians is encountered in dialogues with religions, culture and the poor; the Christ of grassroots Christianity is encountered in Christophanies, healings and deliverance from demonic spirits, big and small instances of answered prayers, and special providence.’16 Perhaps one of the key contributions of the FECH’s theology is their theological reflection on the spiritual world, specifically, their insight into ‘ecclesial practices’ addressing the fear of the spirits and an ‘all-powerful’17 and ‘inclusive Christology’.18 We have seen in the life of the FECH that the spirits are very real to them, dictating life’s decisions and routine. This is actually the case with the majority of Asian cultures. Theologians have started to address the reality of the ‘split-level Christianity’ in the Philippines, and yet there still seems to be a huge disconnect between ordinary Christians beliefs and practices and these theologies.

16. Ibid., p. 126. 17. The FECH’s theological reflections show Christ as a human of extraordinary power over spiritual and natural forces. The FECH’s fear, or at least respect of the unseen requires ‘all-powerful Christology’. Another Christology would not be able to address this reality of the unseen and provide assurance of his power over all the demonic forces; many of the FECH would probably struggle to put their faith in Christ for fear of the unseen. It is also through the lens of ‘power’ that the FECH reflected on the character of Jesus of Nazareth. They saw in the way in which Christ engaged in the cosmic battle that he reveals his true nature, a sign of God’s righteousness and strength. 18. The FECH, along with many other Filipinos, see Christ as a mediatorial figure, a mediator for them to relate to the supernatural. Mark’s Jesus challenges the commonly accepted ways of greatness, power and honour by promoting becoming last, giving up power and embracing shame for the sake of Christ. Jesus’ power stands in contrast to the Roman imperial power of his time. As the FECH have been experimenting with being a multicultural and even multi-religious community, they still come together around Christ; and work towards reconciliation with the ‘Other’ for the sake of the unity of the Church. An inclusive Christology crosses various traditional boundaries of exclusion, such as religious, ethnic, gender, political, economic and geographic distinctions. Furthermore, those on the margins may greatly change ecumenical dialogue by presenting a challenge to the powerrelations that may happen even at God’s table. An inclusive Christological focus impacts contemporary understandings of the ecclesiastical significance of the church, because it does not limit God’s blessings but includes the excluded.

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I have not seen in Filipino institutional churches any practices adjusted to address the realities of the supernatural world. To revisit Hiebert’s ‘excluded middle’; interaction with others and the supernatural world is either nurtured in the light of the Gospel or neglected by the churches so as to add to a split-level Christianity. The adoption of a secular (from below) and sacred (from above) theology in the Filipino churches has pushed their intuitive forms and rituals for relating to the spiritual world outside the church, creating a wide gap between their cognitive proclamations (Christianity) and the deep-seated practices and beliefs about spiritual beings that they are compelled to hide. It is a challenge for the Filipino church to continue to engage in understanding its cultural deep-level perception of the supernatural world and engage in a communal analysis of Scripture. Where it does, it may be able to develop not only more local theology but also particular ecclesial practices addressing the widespread ‘split-level Christianity’ in the Philippines. The later emphasis is more on an experiential experience addressing the phenomena, while local theology aims to address it through a cognitive comprehension. However, it seems to me that the ‘experiential experience’ might be a key factor to penetrate the cognitive ontology of the Filipino. Many Filipinos are today practising some kind of rituals (e.g. tabi) to avoid the negative impact of the spiritual world. Intrinsic in these rites is the longing for protection, harmony and overcoming evil. To do so, producing ‘knowledge’ about the ‘split-level Christianity’ needs to interface with an experiential approach that addresses deep level cultural beliefs and behaviours. A Filipino ecclesiology needs to be able to address the whole Filipino ontology, including rituals that speak of the desires for protections, harmony and work against evil. Not doing so would continue to affirm the ‘split-level Christianity’ in the Philippines which means that people feel compelled to hide their true beliefs and behaviour. It is a powerless Christianity that is not able to adequately address the ‘principalities and powers’ in society. Any context is facing different ‘principalities and powers’ that attempts to work against the kingdom of God. It is necessary to not only identify these ‘principalities and powers’ but in response powerful practices need to be developed. Either believers follow practices that protect them from the dominion of these powers, or they continue with practices that expose them to these powers. It is rituals that ‘are multilayered forms of communication that have the ability to grip people in ways verbal explanations cannot’.19 Ecclesial practices then attempt a shift of the basic emotions behind these experiential encounters from the mystical to the divine. A Filipino ecclesiology can only emerge if these rituals are examined in the light of the Scriptures. This is a reflexive process that is crucial for the self-understanding of being Church in a context. This will then nurture ecclesial practices that are regularly performed rituals that inform memory. It is through this inculturated memory that through repetition, the essence of rituals, 19. Hiebert, Shaw and Tiénou, Understanding Folk Religion, p. 283.

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transmission occurs that has the potential to dismantle the Filipino colonial conscious relation to ‘split-level Christianity’ in the Philippines. 2. The Church of the Poor: Towards A Hermeneutics of Marginality. There is clearly a renewed interest in the dialogue of the mission of the Church and those on the margins as seen in the recent Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium by Pope Francis and WCC new mission statement, Together Towards Life: Mission and Evangelism in Changing Landscapes. These are encouraging developments of deeply reflecting on the marginalized and the mission of the Church. The continual evolution of the world requires the Church to discern the signs of their times in order to faithfully participate in the liberating, healing and reconciliation work of the missio Dei. The missio Dei ought to be decisive for understanding the essence of the Church. This study emphasizes a participatory way of being church to enhance dialogue within the church, especially dialogue between the church and the marginal voices to understand better the Church’s mission. In the recent words of Pope Francis, for the need of ‘a Church which is poor and for the poor. They have much to teach us. Not only do they share in the sensus fidei, but in their difficulties they know the suffering Christ. We need to let ourselves be evangelized by them.’20 As the church participate in the missio Dei to become the Church of the poor that truly cares for the poor, this will not only inform new ways of being Church, but will shape new ways of doing mission. The discourse in this book is a step towards examining this dialogue of advocating a solidarity relationship of a mutual liberation. To be able to hear the FECH’s voices, we need a hermeneutical space of dialogue with the marginal voice, listening to what God is doing at the margins and searching for mutual liberation. As the Church starts to focus on the hermeneutical space of dialogue with the margins, the pneumatological work of liberation will nurture spaces that contribute to mutual transformation towards being a Church which is poor and for the poor. This mutuality and reciprocity in that Third Space will form new ecclesial practices of justification for victimization, exploitation and oppressions. We may have ecclesial practices of confession of sins, worship, celebrating Eucharist, or reading the word of God that are central to the sanctification process of our soul. Nevertheless, to understand our soul better, we need the hermeneutical space of dialogue with the margins to see the consequences of our sins. This discourse will nurture ecclesial practices and a spirituality of marginalization that aims to promote mutual liberations. We may have church outreaches to the poor, but a hermeneutical marginality will guide the church to start a journey with the poor. We may have a strong theology of the option for the poor in our academy and churches, but a hermeneutical of marginality will move us from a theology for the poor and a theology about the poor, to doing theology with the poor. This communal theology articulated in the soil of oppression, injustice and

20. Evangelii Gaudium no. 198, italics in original.

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victimization will shape new forms of being church, a journey ‘Church which is poor and for the poor.’

III. Conclusion: The Homeless Jesus In the midst of many different forms of grave suffering, injustice and oppression, something pure, holy and sacred is being born on the streets of Filipino society. A marginal church born in the midst of a great Filipino struggle that is engaging in the marvellous task of the Gospel in naming their God, ‘the homeless Jesus’. Being poor often means that society (and even churches) have taken away their voices, the ability to decide on their own, leaving them with merely embracing and receiving whatever is given to them. Yet, inherently, in being made in the image of God is his divine capacity to name, albeit imperfectly, the divinity of God. The naming of God as the ‘homeless Jesus’ expresses their intimate relationship with God. It is not about a triumphant Jesus, but an inculturated Christ who becomes one of them, affirming their dignity and integrity. It is in the violent darkness of urban street life that the God of intimate presence dwells. Ecclesiology and marginality in the urban setting has been the central dialogue of this study. It is in the landscape of exclusion in our cities where God also seeks intimacy with his creation. Being church among the homeless is a discourse about marginal ecclesiology that has been seldom heard in the academia and in our churches. Yet, without such marginal ecclesial narratives we might exclude where we should include; we might judge where we should repent; we might silently watch where we should prophetically speak out; we might think we help but actually oppress; we might think we see but are actually blind. Without the engagement at the margins we will never fully comprehend our own soul nor the God we so dearly love. This book is my personal journey with the marginalized that transformed the way I hear and see. It is about a marginal community helping me to hear and see the identity of the subalterns in the Gospel of Mark. It is about the realization of being privileged and the responsibility of emptying myself in order to be able to embrace God’s saving grace available through the stranger. It is about a marginal church that cultivated in me a new love for the mystery of Christ’s body. It is about learning more about the smallest expression of Church, the familia Dei, which fostered in me a deeper spirituality. It is a move away from merely reading ‘wise’ theologians and well-developed ecclesiologies to listening to the seemingly ‘foolish’ articulation of people and places that historically never had a voice. Yet, it is in their inarticulation that we quietly hear God’s voice. It is these grassroots theologies that are essential to what is involved in the church in Asia becoming the church of Asia. It is my hope, that the description of a local ecclesiology and inferences in this book will not only be a theology of the Church for the Philippines, but from the streets of Davao impacting the universal body of Christ.

196

Appendix A PA RT IC I PA N T SUM M A RY Table 1 Research participants for the semi-structured interviews ID no.

Date

Duration

Sex Age Civil status

I–01 29 June 2010 56 min

F

55

I–02 30 June 2010 52 min

F

17

I–03 5 July 2010

35 min

F

15

I–04 8 July 2010

49 min

F

22

I–05 13 July 2010 63 min

F

21

I–06 15 July 2010 51 min

M

26

I–07 17 Aug 2010 72 min

F

44

I–08 19 Aug 2010 62 min

F

33

I–09 26 Aug 2010 76 min

F

47

I–10 28 Aug 2010 47 min

M

61

I–11 30 Aug 2010 80 min

F

25

I–12 31 Aug 2010 57 min

F

27

I–13 2 Sept 2010

42 min

F

41

I–14 3 Sept 2010

48 min

M

49

I–15 4 Sept 2010

50 min

M

31

I–16 6 Sept 2010

45 min

M

26

I–17 7 Sept 2010

39 min

M

38

I–18 10 Sept 2010 47 min

M

26

I–19 10 Sept 2010 61 min

M

21

Number of Education children level

Origin

Married 4 and above College level Bisaya Cebuano Single N/A College level Bisaya Cebuano Married 3 and above Elementary Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above High school Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above High school Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above Elementary Bisaya level Cebuano Married 4 and above College Tagalog level Married 3 and above Elementary Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above Elementary Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above Elementary Bagobo level Manobo Married 3 and above High school Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above High school Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above Elementary Bagobo level Manobo Married 4 and above Elementary Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above Elementary Bagobo level Manobo Single 3 and above High school Tagalog level Married 4 and above Elementary Bisaya level Cebuano Married 3 and above Elementary Bisaya level Cebuano Single 3 and above High school Ilocano level

Arrival at the Park 1992 1992 1993 2004 2001 1998 2000 1993 2001 1999 2000 2003 2001 1993 2001 2003 1993 2003 2003

197

198

Appendix A Table 2 Focus Group 1 Code

Age

Gender

Arrival at the park

FG1-1 FG1-2 FG1-3 FG1-4 FG1-5 FG1-6 FG1-7

25 49 38 21 26 21 29

F M M M M F F

2000 1993 1993 2005 1998 2001 2001

Table 3 Focus Group 2 Code

Age

Gender

Arrival at the park

FG2-1 FG2-2 FG2-3 FG2-4 FG2-5 FG2-6 FG2-7 FG2-8 FG2-9

44 47 44 45 28 24 49 16 41

F F F M M M F F F

2000 2001 2009 2009 2000 2002 2001 2001 2001

Table 4 Gospel of Mark participant summary chart No.

Date

Passages

Time

Duration Attendance

1.

22 January 2011

Mark 1:1–11

2:15 to 3:31 pm 76 min

2.

29 January 2011

Mark 1:12–13

2:27 to 4:10 pm 103 min

3.

5 February 2011

Mark 1:14–20

2:15 to 3:37 pm 87 min

4.

12 February 2011

Mark 1:21–45

2:06 to 4:25 pm 139 min

5.

19 February 2011

Mark 2:1–17

2:15 to 4:13 pm 118 min

6.

26 February 2011

Mark 2:18–22

2:02 to 4:30 pm 148 min

7.

12 March 2011

Mark 2:23–3:6

1:44 to 3:46 pm 122 min

8.

19 March 2011

Mark 3:7–19

2:10 to 4:07 pm 117 min

9.

26 March 2011

Mark 3:20–30

1:55 to 3:25 pm 90 min

10.

2 April 2011

Mark 3:31–35

2:16 to 4:19 pm 123 min

Male: 5 Female: 15 Male: 10 Female: 9 Male: 7 Female: 12 Male: 9 Female: 13 Male: 9 Female: 20 Male: 6 Female: 13 Male: 4 Female: 7 Male: 4 Female: 11 Male: 4 Female: 10 Male: 4 Female: 12

Appendix A

11.

7 April 2011

Mark 4:1–20

2:09 to 3:30 pm 81 min

12.

8 April 2011

Mark 4:21–34

2:05 to 3:44 pm 99 min

13.

9 April 2011

Mark 4:35–40

2:15 to 3:22 pm 67 min

14.

30 April 2011

Mark 5:1–42

2:01 to 3:59 pm 118 min

15.

7 May 2011

Mark 5:21–43

2:14 to 4:35 pm 141 min

16.

14 May 2011

Mark 6:1–13

2:03 to 4:39 pm 156 min

17.

21 May 2011

Mark 6:14–29

1:58 to 3:50 pm 112 min

18.

28 May 2011

Mark 6:30–44

2:17 to 3:14 pm 56 min

19.

4 June 2011

Mark 6:45–56

2:01 to 4:00 pm 119 min

20.

11 June 2011

Mark 7:1–23

2:09 to 4:16 pm 127 min

21.

18 June 2011

Mark 7:24–37

2:05 to 4:38 pm 153 min

22.

2 July 2011

Mark 8:1–26

2:06 to 4:29 pm 143 min

23.

9 July 2011

Mark 8:27–9:1

2:22 to 4:55 pm 133 min

24.

16 July 2011

Mark 9:2–32

2:14 to 4:36 pm 142 min

25.

23 July 2011

Mark 9:33–50

2:09 to 4:38 pm 149 min

26.

30 July 2011

Mark 10:1–27

2:16 to 4:55 pm 159 min

27.

6 August 2011

Mark 10:28–45

1:45 to 4:20 pm 155 min

28.

13 August 2011

Mark 10:46–11; 11 2:06 to 4:07 pm 121 min

29.

27 August 2011

Mark 11:12–26

30.

3 September 2011

Mark 11:27–12:12 2:08 to 3:51 pm 103 min

31.

10 September 2011 Mark 12:13–27

2:11 to 4:29 pm 138 min

32.

17 September 2011 Mark 12:28–37

2:03 to 3:56 pm 113 min

33.

24 September 2011 Mark 12:37b–43

2:02 to 3:18 pm 86 min

34.

26 September 2011 Mark 13:1–13

2:21 to 4:34 pm 133 min

35.

1 October 2011

2:12 to 3:57 pm 105 min

Mark 13:14–37

2:01 to 2:49 pm 48 min

199

Male: 7 Female: 9 Male: 7 Female: 9 Male: 7 Female: 9 Male: 4 Female: 15 Male: 3 Female: 4 Male: 2 Female: 9 Male: 3 Female: 7 Male: 2 Female: 9 Male: 4 Female: 8 Male: 4 Female: 9 Male: 3 Female: 5 Male: 3 Female: 9 Male: 3 Female: 10 Male: 3 Female: 10 Male: 2 Female: 7 Male: 2 Female: 9 Male: 2 Female: 7 Male: 1 Female: 12 Male: 1 Female: 12 Male: 2 Female: 11 Male: 0 Female: 16 Male: 2 Female: 24 Male: 3 Female: 17 Male: 1 Female: 4 Male: 2 Female: 18 (Continued)

200

Appendix A

Table 4 Continued No.

Date

Passages

Time

Duration Attendance

36.

3 October 2011

Mark 14:1–11

2:07 to 3:14 pm 67 min

37.

8 October 2011

Mark 14:12–26

2:24 to 4:25 pm 121 min

38.

10 October 2011

Mark 14:27–31

2:31 to 4:23 pm 112 min

39.

15 October 2011

Mark 14:32–43

2:01 to 4:19 pm 138 min

40.

17 October 2011

Mark 14:43–52

2:03 to 4:48 pm 155 min

41.

22 October 2011

Mark 14:53–72

2:08 to 4:26 pm 138 min

42.

24 October 2011

Mark 15:1–15

1:59 to 4:35 pm 156 min

43.

29 October 2011

Mark 15:16–32

2:15 to 4:28 pm 133 min

44.

31 October 2011

Mark 15:33–41

2:00 to 4:54 pm 174 min

45.

5 November 2011

Mark 15:42–47

2:11 to 4:33 pm 152 min

46.

12 November 2011 Mark 16:1–8

2:09 to 4:50 pm 161 min

47.

19 November 2011 Mark 16:9–20

2:26 to 4:09 pm 103 min

Male: 1 Female: 3 Male: 3 Female: 15 Male: 1 Female: 4 Male: 2 Female: 16 Male: 2 Female: 3 Male: 2 Female: 19 Male: 1 Female: 4 Male: 1 Female: 16 Male: 1 Female: 4 Male: 1 Female: 17 Male: 5 Female: 12 Male: 1 Female: 15

Appendix B SE M I  ST RU C T U R E D I N T E RV I EW G U I D E

General Information: Name: Birthday: Ethnic group: Gender: Family Status: Education:

Research Questions: 1. 2. 3.

Where did you used to live before the Park? Tell me when you started living in the Park. Have you or your parents ever talked about leaving the Park? What made you decide to continue to stay in the Park? 4. Do you know anyone who has left the Park? What did they say about why they left? 5. Who keeps the money in your family? Who decides how to spend this money? If you have money, do family members and relatives expect or even demand that you will share it with them? 6. If you are a parent, what do you expect/dream from your children? 7. If a parent: If someone does wrong in your family, who carries out the discipline? If that person is not home, who takes their place? Tell me of a recent event where your child was disobedient. How did you respond? Is that the usual way you respond? 8. In your opinion, should a newly-wed stay with their family or move to their own place? Why? 9. What are some problems and difficulties of living in the Park? What are there causes? 10. How would you describe the Park community? 201

202

Appendix B

11. Please tell me a story what you really enjoy and what not with the Park community. 12. What do you expect from the Park community? 13. Is there someone you would consider as a leader of those who live in the Park? What characteristics are you looking for in a leader? 14. Do people ever fight with each other in the Park? Tell me of a recent incident. 15. Who do you ask first for help in the community? 16. When you were planning activities, such as the family day, for the Park community, how did you make all the decisions of where? when? how to get there? who are the people who organize the event? etc. 17. Tell me an instance where the community came together to help someone. 18. In cases of emergency or tragedy, who among you gathers others together to help out? 19. From your perspective, what is an appropriate metaphor for the church? 20. Tell me what you consider the most important part of a church service and why? 21. What do you expect from church? 22. Share with me some good/bad experiences you had with those in authority in the church. 23. What do you think they say/think about you? 24. How many times a year do you go to church and why do you go? If the person goes to church: The ministry of the church includes worship, teaching, fellowship meals, prayer meetings, and small fellowship. Can you tell me how the church met your spiritual need in the last three months through one or more of these ministries? Is there a specific spiritual need that the church did not meet? 25. If your child gets very sick, what do you do? If a doctor cannot help you, what do you do? 26. Please share some stories about your encounters with the spiritual world. 27. In the recent election, what were you looking for that made you choose one candidate over the others? 28. Share with me some good/bad experiences you have had with the government. 29. Please tell me your experience of finding work. 30. In your opinion, how do employers and professionals see those who live in the Park? 31. Tell me your experience of going to school. 32. How do you think your teachers view the children living in Park? 33. In your opinion, how does living in the Park impact the educational development of the children? 34. Is there anything else you want to share (for example story) that would help us better understand the Park community?

Appendix C T RU N C AT E D I N T E RV I EW DATA

Interview 1 English Transcription Interviewer: Why did you decide to you come to Davao? I–001: Because we are used to the city life. Interviewer: How long have you lived there in Park? I–001: Seventeen years. Interviewer: Do you have family members with you in Park? I–001: My husband, my children. There are six of them, but one died. Interviewer: What do you think is the effect in your family, living here in Park? I–001: We are close but we always fight. There is closeness but I think it’s just natural to fight because of problems, especially about finances. Interviewer: In Park, do you consider someone to be the leader in your community? I–001: Yes. Interviewer: Who is it? I–001: Me. ha, ha. Me. Interviewer: What if you have a serious conflict with someone in the community, how would you solve it? I–001: Serious? I frankly talk to them. I’m frank. . . . I will really face that person. If there’s a problem, I face it with proper approach. I also don’t know of any conflict. Interviewer: How do people in the Park make a decision? I–001: We meet. We will have a meeting. . . . Whatever one contributes for our welfare we decide on it. Interviewer: Do you help one another in Park? Do you support one another or do you focus on your own personal interest? I–001: Concerning that, there are times we help one another but it depends upon the situation. . . . If we can help we help, but we usually mind our own interest. . . . We help if the problem is not that heavy. . . . For example, when there’s one giving birth, someone is sick, in emergency cases like diarrhoea. All would help. But, when help comes our way like what we consider are blessings, we come into disagreement, because of ownership. But in emergency cases we come together and help each other. 203

204

Appendix C

Interviewer: In your perception, what do you think of the church as an institution? I–001: Good. Interviewer: What good is there? I–001: In times of need, the church helps. If you have problems the church can also help. Interviewer: What kind of problem? I–001: Financially, the church also gives. They also give food. Interviewer: What do you think of how they perceive or look at you? I–001: The church? Interviewer: Yes. I–001: I’m far from them. Interviewer: That you are distant to the church? I–001: I seem distant to the church because I do not go to church anymore. Interviewer: So, what do you think should the church do to maintain feeding your spiritually? I–001: It’s . . . there needs to be . . . real service to God so that they will be able to meet my spiritual needs. Interviewer: Then, how should the church do that? I–001: Give me work to do so that I will grow spiritually. Interviewer: So, the church will help you in the aspect of work? I–001: For my financial needs. Interviewer: What do you think, what can you contribute to the church? I–001: My service. Interviewer: Like? I–001: Serve him. Clean the church on Sunday. Help the church. There’s nothing I can do except serve. Work in the church without exchange. Interviewer: Do you do that? I–001: In the past, but now no. Interviewer: Not anymore. Why? I–001: Why? Because of my family. Interviewer: You do not go because? I–001: The problem is. . . Because of some hindrances. Interviewer: What hinders you to . . .? I–001: My husband is a burden, that’s what hinders me. . . . He allows me to go but in the morning he keeps grumbling. What can I do, my interest in going to church is lost. He keeps on grumbling, talk against unnecessarily.

Interview 2 English Transcription Interviewer: How old were you when your family moved to the Park? I–002: I was not yet one year old. Interviewer: Living in Park, does it affect your family in anyway? I–002: Oh, yes. It affects.

Appendix C

205

Interviewer: How? I–002: Because of the community. Oh, because of the environment. Interviewer: Yes, what about it? I–002: Especially with the rugby boys, . . . even my brother is badly influenced. . . . People in the community influence them and affects him. Interviewer: Ok, how do you see the church as an organization? Like how do you see the government, how do you see the church? I–002: They help without ceasing. Interviewer: Park, what rituals do you practice or have experienced as a community? I–002: Baptism. Interviewer: What does this mean for you? I–002: For the child, baptism is for the child that he will grow well and that he will also grow spiritually. Interviewer: In your perspective, how do employers see those living in the community? I–002: They will not be able to trust them. Interviewer: If an outsider gives economic assistance or job opportunity to any of you in the community, is this shared with the rest? I–002: They share, oh, like for example there is an outsider that will give work. Interviewer: How does living in the community in Park impact educational development of the children? I–002: It is difficult . . . in the evening . . . it is dark, how could we study . . . you cannot really concentrate . . . uhm. When you really want to work, you could not really concentrate because of the environment in the community.

Interview 9 English Transcription Interviewer: Tell me about when you first moved to live in the Park. I–009: We were from Catabato, but there were armed conflicts in Kabacan. Our house was very near the place where they bombed the Muslims. That’s why I informed the family that we’ll just evacuate to Davao; and that’s the reason why we came to live here in Park. Interviewer: What’s your day like, as you wake up in the morning, what time do you wake up . . . something like that? I–009: I wake up at 4:00am. Interviewer: That’s so early. I–009: Yes, then I’d boil water. When we wake up, it’s still dark because we don’t have electricity. Then he’d say, ‘Why do you wake up so early, it’s still so dark, you might be bitten by a snake.’ Then I’d say, ‘It’s okay, I have flashlight.’ Interviewer: What do you usually do in the morning? I–009: Wash dirty clothes, cook food, sweep around. . . . Even though our situation is hard, I always tell my family not to lose hope. I would tell them, ‘Let us not forget God even though we’re having a hard time; no matter what happens.

206

Appendix C

We cannot do anything if we’re away from God. Look, we don’t have work but we still can eat three times a day. That’s because of God’s help.’ Then there are people who see and pity us, and they come to give help. That’s why I said, God will never leave us. He’s the one who provided for us every since. That’s what I’ve been telling them. Interviewer: What do you mean that your daughter would be serious in her studies? I–009: Yes, that she would be serious in her studies so she’ll be able to finish. That she will not go with the gang (refers to street gangs composed of minors). That whoever would like to badly influence her, she would say no; because no one else would influence you to stop coming to school other than the gang. That’s what I always tell her. I don’t have anything to leave her with when I die, other than her education. ‘Nobody can steal your education from you, that’s yours alone,’ that’s what I always tell her. And she would say, ‘Yes, Mom, I will really work hard to finish school.’ Interviewer: Why are you not sleeping in your small shanty house? I–009: Because we put the candle in a glass, but a cat tipped it over, so my curtain caught fire. I pulled my curtain and threw it outside. It’s better to have no water than to have candle which can cause fire. That why, every night, we don’t sleep inside. We started sleeping outside since 2001, up until now, 2010. Others would say, ‘But you have a shanty there.’ We do, but we don’t have electricity there, there are plenty of mosquitoes. It’s better here in the Park, it’s bright here, and there are no mosquitoes. Interviewer: How would you describe your community here in the Park? I–009: They’re good to me. And I’m also good to them. We share with each other. Yes, we’re like one family. We’re like one family because all of us sleep there together. Interviewer: So, for now, who do you think acts as the leader in your community? I–009: My son and daughter. . . . It’s really my son and daughter because they’re quick. When I need something here, they acts quickly. Interviewer: Are there also some conflicts in your community? I–009: In Park? There are lots. Interviewer: Tell me about it. I–009: When the ‘rugby boys’ came to disturb us while we were sleeping. Those were Tom’s group. While we were sleeping, some rugby boys were so rowdy. They threw rocks towards our place, but landed on the feet of a pregnant woman who was staying right behind us. The rocks didn’t hit us, that’s why I said, ‘God is really good because the rocks didn’t hit anyone from our group; they landed on those who don’t belong to our group.’ They all laughed. They said, ‘You’re always like that; you always mention the name of God.’ Of course I’ll say that, because if it’s not true, what would become of us? So all the others woke up and run. I said, ‘Don’t run, they might have “sumpak” (home-made gun), they might shoot us.’ That’s been happening often. It would have been much better if it’s just stealing, because it would just be easy to catch them.

Appendix C

207

Interviewer: How did the community come up with the decision, where to go and how? I–009: We discussed about it with our other companions, as to how we get there. If we’re able to come up with a decision, we can really go. If for instance, I’m the only one there, we would not be able to come up with a decision. Someone else should be there and say, ‘Let’s just do it this way, so that all of us could go.’ Interviewer: Were there also some occasions when not all agreed? I–009: Yes. Interviewer: Then, how was it resolved? I–009: We’ll just explain it nicely that if someone doesn’t give in to what the rest of the group decided, then, we’ll not make any progress; the activity will not happen. Interviewer: And then . . . I–009: Then that person would even beg to be included. Interviewer: Tell me of an experience when you as one community, came together to help someone in your own community who was in dire need. I–009: When someone ask me for help, or ask to borrow money, but if I really don’t have any, I’ll be frank and say, I too have no money. But if for instance I have money that time, then I’ll readily lend her some. Just like when Ate came the other day, she said, ‘May I borrow some money from you.’ I was so sad to tell her that, ‘I don’t have money now either. We haven’t even had our supper yet. I’m so sorry.’ Then I told her to go ask my son, but she was embarrassed to ask. I wanted to ask my son myself, but his wife might say something bad again that might cause a misunderstanding between them; so I decided not to ask. I told Ate that I’m really sorry. It really hurts me when I couldn’t help. I told her, ‘The Lord can really see me that I have nothing to help you with.’ Then she replied, ‘I believe you. I know that if you really have something to help with, you’ll really do it; you’ll not say no.’ So that’s how we are, when someone is in need, sometimes, one of us helps. Interviewer: How do you see the church? I–009: Church is different. Interviewer: How do you see it? I–009: In the Church there are many ‘don’ts’, like: don’t smoke; don’t watch movies; don’t watch filthy shows. So the church is really different. At home however . . . Interviewer: So, how do you see the church? What is a church? I–009: It gives us something good. You have respect for others. You have fear of God. Even though no one is perfect, if you have respect for others, you will not speak ill of others. But at home, you don’t act the same. In church, despite what others do to you, you don’t react badly right away because you remember the message of the pastor. So it’s really different. Interviewer: Tell me of a good experience you had in the church. I–009: The good experience I had in the church was when, I went to church and Ma’am entrusted me with the key to the church. I was the one who opened

208

Appendix C

all the rooms in the church, set the radio, and the pillows. And during the 9:00 prayer time, Ma’am asked me to lead in prayer for the church. I also led the Women’s group. That’s what I will never forget. However, Ma’am later wondered, when on a Sunday I stopped leading in prayer. Then, I returned the key back to her. I explained to her that others seemed to be envious. When I asked the Women to group together to pray, some frowned, some made faces. I don’t understand them. Ate was attending church then. She said, ‘Just don’t mind them.’ But I didn’t accept any responsibility from then on. Interviewer: And do you think the church can help you grow in your relationship with God? I–009: No, it’s only you who could help yourself. Interviewer: Now tell me of your experience with spirits; do you believe in that? I–009: Yes, I believe. Interviewer: So tell me of your experience. Have you had one? I–009: Yes, I was still pregnant with my son. We where wondering why the Banyan tree was shining bright like a lamp from its roots all the way to its branches. I said, ‘Hey, look at the lamp.’ And Ate replied, ‘That’s not a lamp, those are fire flies.’ And then I said, ‘That’s amazing, fire flies from the roots all the way to the branches to give us light.’ And she agreed. We didn’t know that there were people from up the hill who’ve been calling us, ‘Don’t stay there, come up and sleep here, you don’t have companions there.’ That house was near a cemetery. After cooking and preparing for supper from the outside kitchen, I went inside the house. Soon after, somebody coughed from outside. I thought it was my husband, so I told my sister to open up the door, but she was already afraid she didn’t open it though I insisted. Interviewer: Whose house was it? I–009: It was my aunt’s; but my aunt went to the farm that time. I kept on insisting to open the door believing that my husband was outside but she just didn’t open it. Then suddenly, the walls were beaten, the whole house was shaken, and the sound was like that of an animal. Then all the lights went off. My dresses were torn, all the things inside the house all turned and rolled. We were shouting really loud. Interviewer: Really? So what time did Kuya arrive? I–009: It was long after. The wall of my aunt’s house was just made of plywood; it tore open. We saw its tongue, it was very long. We really shouted loud but the neighbours couldn’t even hear us. Interviewer: Nobody heard you? I–009: Nobody. We were really shouting loud. We said, ‘Help!’ But it was good that there was a cat; the cat was able to save us. Interviewer: How? I–009: Its long tail was able to get inside the house, and the head was doing like this. I was holding a bolo, my sister was holding a bottle.

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Interviewer: Then. I–009: The cat came inside passing through the window, so our window was opened. So the cat was biting the leg of the thing. So if the cat was not there, we would surely be dead. Interviewer: The window was opened? I–009: Yes, that’s where the cat came in. So, wherever we hid, the cat was there, when we hid under the mat, so was the cat. The cat fought for us. Later on, around 2:00am, my husband came but we didn’t open the door for him. So he asked, ‘Why didn’t you open the door?’ During the time that it was happening Pektos who was in the camp, which was in a far side of the place, heard us shouting. So he informed my husband. He said, ‘Go home. I heard your wife shouting, they might be being disturbed by the evil spirits.’ Interviewer: Nobody came? I–009: Nobody yet. Then, when he arrived I said, ‘Look at the marks of the spirit.’ It left a mark, like this. Interviewer: Like a hand? I–009: Yes, when it opened the wall, it left a mark of a hand. Soon after, the evil spirit came back. My husband was so mad, he said, ‘Why are you disturbing my wife, she’s not disturbing you? Why not go somewhere else, somewhere far, not here.’ Then after that, it didn’t come back anymore. Helen and I saw its eyes; it was really big like a carabao’s. My sister really lost her mind. What I always remember was his face. Even when I eat, I couldn’t eat because I remember its face. Interviewer: How long was it in your mind? I–009: Almost a month. We were brought to a spiritist. . . . She said, ‘You were disturbed by the “agta in the Balete” ’ (a mythical beast that lives in the Banyan tree). We remembered that it also had a string hanging from its neck, just like a carabao. So, our neighbours said, if you could have opened it, you would be dead because it will eat you alive! Interviewer: But now, are you still afraid here? I–009: Yes, we’re still afraid. Interviewer: Here in the city? I–009: Yes. There are also evil spirits here. Interviewer: At your place? I–009: Yes. Interviewer: Here in Park? I–009: Yes. . . . You can ask anybody. They show themselves to people there. Like the white lady who’s wearing long-sleeves. And sometimes it’s a male. Interviewer: Tell me, is it hard looking for work? I–009: It is really hard because there’s no job opening, and you need to walk. When you go to one place and there’s no work available there, you go to another place again. When I applied as dishwasher in one of those places, one of the workers there said, ‘Don’t apply here, the owner is very strict. All of us are even planning

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to resign; you might have a hard time too.’ So I did not apply there. I returned back to collecting trash and doing some laundry work. Interviewer: How about the professionals who pass by the Park going to their places of work, what do you think are their opinion of you? I–009: They would say, ‘Oh, these people are so poor, and cannot do anything.’ Sometimes, there are those who look at us while we are sleeping, and they laugh at us, and talk about us. Sometimes some from our group would talk back, ‘Why are you staring at us? Do you have a place for us? Can you provide a place for us to move?’ Ate Santa would really talk back to those people who stare at us. Sometimes I would say, ‘It’s okay, maybe they just pity us with our condition here.’ Interviewer: Now tell me of your experience while attending school. I–009: I went to school before. We decided to attend school. But our Dad didn’t want us to go to school if all of us would go, he would even spank us. I only finished second grade. . . . He only wanted us to work on the rice field, plow, and to feed the pigs. My Dad was really strict then. When I reached ten years old, he made me to marry my husband now. That’s why I’m still young; and what Dad just did was unacceptable. I used to think that I would not be like this because I had big dreams before; I wanted to be a singer, had it not been for my Dad’s decision. . . . That’s why even now that he’s dead, we’re still blaming him. Look at this scar; I got this when he whacked me. He even stabbed me with a knife because he didn’t want me to go to school. He even almost drowned us in the river to stop us from going to school. So my siblings and I decided that we’ll just then obey our parents’ decision to stop schooling. Not long after that, he made a deal with my husband for us to marry. My husband now is 62 years old. Interviewer: How old were you then? I–009: Ten years old then. I haven’t started my period then. Interviewer: You were still ten years old, and how old was he then? I–009: More than 30. I was still uneasy with him then, so I left the house without them knowing, my Dad and a police man went looking for me. Interviewer: Because they wanted you to go back to him? I–009: Yes, they wanted me to go back, but I left again and went to Diwal-wal to join my relatives there. They tricked me by saying, one or our relatives passed away thus I need to go back, but I learned later that it was not true. Interviewer: Just so you’ll go back to your husband? I–009: Yes, just so I’ll go back. Later, I thought that this might be my destiny, I decided to accept it. I also thought that it’s good that he has now settled down because he used to be a gambler and a drunk. I wished then that he would also serve God. But until now, he still gambles. That’s why I pray, ‘Lord, when will my suffering end?’ Interviewer: Did you send your kids to school? I–009: Yes; my daughter. I wanted her to take up a degree. I will work the whole day just so she could finish school. She went to Manila with her cousin and

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other classmates because she said she wanted to go there and finish school. But later we learned that she worked there to two years. I called her up and so she came back home. I sent her to City High to finish school, but she later eloped with her husband now. . . . Our son, would have been a bright student. We sent him to school but he only finished fifth grade. He also eloped with his wife. Interviewer: Are there teachers who come visit you at your place? I–009: No one. Only ones my daughter’s teacher. She said, ‘I passed by your place and saw you sleeping there with your Mom.’ That’s all she said to her. So she said, ‘Yes, that’s where we sleep because there are plenty of mosquitoes in our shanty.’ . . . Then her teacher asked, ‘What do you feel while lying there, is it misty?’ The she answered, ‘No, we’re used to it. It’s not misty.’

Interview 11 English Transcription Interviewer: So you stayed with your aunt before coming to the Park? I–011: I was jealous because there were times when I got home from school I wanted them to treat me the way they do for my younger siblings. Something like, ‘Day, come, here’s food for you, come and eat.’ Also when I asked help for my school project, my Mom didn’t bother to help me, she often pushed me to ask help from my Dad. It was hard for me to show my affection towards my Mom because I felt uneasy with the fact that I did not grow up with her. I decided to move back to live with my Mom. I also wanted to feel my mother’s love, because while I was staying with my aunt I envied my cousins seeing their mother taking care of them. I would really like to feel how my own mother tells me what to do. Like my experiences with my aunt: when it’s 6:00 at night you can’t leave the house; and right after school, you should go straight home, and you can watch TV; and at 5:00am she’ll wake us up to eat breakfast. She also trained me how to do the household chores well. In the morning, she’d say, ‘Before you go to school, wash the dishes first.’ She taught me these things so I would learn to do it as I grow up. She also treated us well; she would serve us milk to drink. I grew up well taken cared of, with complete food to eat, with all my needs being met. I did not experience hardship with them. But it’s still different, not living with your real parents. That’s why I went home to live with my Mom, because I wanted to finally feel my Mom’s care. When I went home, I told my mom, ‘Ma, I will study hard to finish high school, as long as you’ll be the one to send me to school.’ I really don’t know, was it my fault or my parents’ fault? They told me that they cannot send me to school because they still have my other siblings to support. So I told her, ‘You’re my mother, can’t you find ways to send me to school?’ I had also decided then not to go back to my aunt. Another aunt, the youngest sister of my Mom, volunteered to send me to school; but I didn’t want to. I really wanted my own parents to do everything to send me to school, but still she said no. What really hurt me most was when I graduated from elementary, I was twelve years old then, I needed a white dress for the graduation I really wanted my Mom to do everything to provide the white dress so that I can attend the ceremony. I was so excited, I went to Boulevard. I

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brought a flower, the kind that doesn’t wilt fast. . . . I also needed to bring ribbons, one for the parent and another one for the graduate. So I was in a hurry to go home. When I reached home, I asked my Mom, ‘Ma, do I have my dress for tomorrow?’ But my Mom seemed not interested. That’s when I really got hurt. That was the time I started to be a ‘pain in the neck’ to them. Whenever I would go out without them knowing, they wouldn’t even come looking for me. At times when I walk off to the beach, and go home late at night, they wouldn’t bother to ask, ‘What happened to you? You’re already a teenager, why do you still wander?’ They didn’t seem to show any concern for me. Interviewer: Oh. I–011: That’s why I said, I’ll try to fight with my younger sisters, let’s see how they will react. Maybe it’s because I was too jealous, or maybe I was so selfish; but I was crying for their attention. Still my Mom wouldn’t retort. When my father arrived and saw us quarreling, he said, ‘Day, what happened to you; why are you naughty?’ So I said, ‘I’m being naughty because of you. You don’t even show your concern!’ My Dad was so angry he said he was the one who took care of me, even when I was still living with my aunt. He was the one who came to visit me. Even when he had only twenty pesos in his pocket, and one peso to spare me, he was the one who visited. That’s why my Dad was shocked because ever since I was young, that was the first time I talked back at him. He spanked me then. I couldn’t accept it, being spanked by my Dad. That’s why I decided to leave the house. That’s why I moved to the Park. Interviewer: Oh. I–011: I began to hang about hang around Rizal, then later in this Park. Interviewer: And then? I–011: Simon (husband) was in Rizal ahead of me, he was a shoe-shine boy then. When I arrived (in Rizal), there were lots of people who laze or loaf around already. At first, I didn’t know how to look for money because I grew up with my aunt who provided for me. I haven’t tried stealing. When I arrived in this Park, I was so hungry! I had several teenage peers they called ‘budots-budots’ (refers to a street group composed of female minors engaging in sex trade). Interviewer: Oh. I–011: Simon told me, ‘Day, come with us, let’s go roam around.’ I said, ‘Where to?’ I was really so hungry that time. I haven’t had my breakfast, lunch and supper. . . . It’s good that Simon always go out to look for food. But Simon saw the girls who first invited me to go with them. Simon asked them, ‘Where are you taking her?’ They said, ‘Don’t worry, Simon, we’ll give you leftover as soon as we come back.’ But Simon understood what they were talking about, because he knew who those girls were. He told them, ‘Leave her with me, I know what you’re up to, you’ll just sell her. Don’t involve her with your business, she’s innocent, she’s from the province, she doesn’t know anything.’ He really saved me from that situation. I didn’t know what they were doing. What I just wanted was to go strolling; to leave home and to feel freedom. I didn’t know that I had to learn the ways of the street. It was Simon who explained everything to me. He told me

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that if I need anything, all I had to do was to just ask from him and not to go with those girls. When I arrived in the Park, I didn’t even have clothes and slippers, so he bought those for me. Interviewer: Then? I–011: My mother learned that I was staying in the Park after a month. They came looking for me. But they didn’t look for me right away because they wanted to; it was because of my aunt. My aunt blamed them and told them, ‘If you will not go look for her, I’ll send you out from the house.’ My aunt really treated me like her own child. I also went hiding in Toril, but my aunt made every effort to look for me. I really felt how is it like to be a parent from my aunt, but not from my own mother. Interviewer: But they didn’t find you? I–011: They found me right here in the Park but I didn’t go home with them. Interviewer: But you and your aunt were able to talk over? I–011: Yes. My aunt and I were able to talk. But I also realized, when my mother came here in the park to see me that I was also at fault. I went home to ask forgiveness from her. I also introduced Simon to them, although we were not going steady yet that time. We just pretended that we have gotten married, so I’ll have a reason not to go back home. We did that so they will not go looking for me again. I asked forgiveness, saying I was so selfish, I just wanted them to support me to school, but they couldn’t afford it because my father was just a carpenter that time. Interviewer: How old were you then? I–011: I was fifteen years old. That’s why I went home to tell them not to look for me anymore. They saw me here in the Park and called me, but I didn’t come near them because I was afraid. Then I thought, they might misinterpret the situation, that’s why I went to tell them that I’m not moving back home, my life is good here, I’ve already settled down. So when I introduced Simon to them, my mother said, ‘If that’s my decision, I will not go against it.’ She also told Simon she cannot understand my thoughts because I did not grow up with her. She said, ‘If you plan to get married, that’s better, because you will not leave again, and we can go see you anytime.’ That’s why my Mom came to visit us several times. That was also the time when I became close with my Mom, when I got married. Interviewer: Have you talked about leaving the Park as a family? I–011: Yes, we talked about that earlier. I said, ‘If you and I finally decide to stay together, I will not agree that we just stay here. It’s fine with me if we come here to stroll during day time, but we should have a house where we can put our children in.’ I also told him, ‘You grew up here in the Park, I don’t want our children to experience the hardship you experienced living here in the Park.’ That’s why he really worked hard for us to be able to live even in a small house. Interviewer: Then what made you decide to continue staying in the Park? I–011: In our area now? Our children’s school is just near and another thing, if we rent a house, it’s so expensive these days. . . . Because we don’t have a decent job.

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If we have money, it’s just enough for our daily needs: food, school. And we cannot go back to our farm in Samal. The real problems that we have right now are the electricity, water, and drainage. If it’s raining hard, all the water goes to where we are sleeping. The shanty that we have is too small for us to sleep in. . . . The roof is also dripping. The space is just enough for our belongings. Interviewer: How do you see your Park community? I–011: Our group is like one family. . . . Because whatever comes to one family, we just call each other. Like, when it rains really hard during the night, it’s really lively, everybody is shouting. . . . Especially when we don’t get to sleep because our place is flooding. . . . We are so lively; we joke, ‘Hey, call ABS-CBN so that they can take a video of us!’ (laughs) Interviewer: Any experience with the church? I–011: I only cried once in church, when my youngest son was very sick. I went to the Cathedral to pray. I prayed, ‘God, I hope you don’t punish my son for my sin against you. Please save him, he’s fighting for his life; he has a 50–50 chance of survival.’ Then I heard a prayer song, my heart was so touched. I thought, so this is how it is when you have a problem and God listens. Because sometimes, I say to myself, ‘If God is real then He should hear me and give me what I ask.’ But I also realize that God also said, ‘Men should also do their part, so that I will help them.’ If you don’t work hard, then you will not also be given help. Interviewer: In your opinion, like when you applied for work at the Cafeteria, how do the employers see those who live in the Park? I–011: They have low regard for us, especially when they learn than we’re from that place. Anyone who finds out that we’re from the Park has a low regard for us. They look down on us. Interviewer: The professionals who pass by your place, what do you think of how they see you? I–011: Some would ask us, why we sleep here. Others even step on the area where we’ve just cleaned, getting ready to sleep. They have no sympathy. Interviewer: Oh. I–011: They don’t think about nor understand our situation. They were thinking that we’re sleeping here because we are expecting dole out from them. But that’s not what we’re after. We can’t sleep in our shanty because we don’t have electricity, no light, so there are many mosquitoes. If we are going to use mosquito coil, we might get burn because we only have a small space. But others still can’t understand our situation. Interviewer: How about the others, what do they say? I–011: Others feel badly for us, saying, ‘They should be given relocation.’ But mostly would say, ‘Why are you there?’

Interview 16 English Transcription Interviewer: When did you start living in Park? I–016: I don’t remember what year was that but it was ’90s.

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Interviewer: How old were you then? I–016: I was around 18 years old that time. After being released from rehab, I was told to go home. But I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to do what I want. . . . I didn’t want to go back to our house. I wanted to stay at the rehab because I have companions there; it was not boring. But they wanted me to go home to my relatives. I didn’t want to live there because I was often alone, my relatives were often busy they couldn’t take care of me. It was so boring. That’s why I left. . . . While hanging out, I was adopted at the drop-in centre, it was still open during that time. It was just across the street. Interviewer: Oh, and then? I–016: It was still open for us during that time; those who were stowaways. They allowed us to come in, to take a bath, to eat, all for free. So they again kept me in custody. The Nuns transferred me to Ulha. It was in the outskirts going to Calinan. I was thinking, why not go back to school there? I was already in high school so I would need to walk downtown going to Regional; it would be a long walk; I was discouraged. It was still summer then, we were working on the vegetable garden, and helping out raising hogs. We earn money from harvesting vegetables. But we could not understand the situation. We’ve been working hard but we didn’t have any leisure time. We were not allowed to listen to radio or TV, that’s why we left and I stayed out. I’d rather not stay anywhere else because there were so many ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’. I’ve been living on the road since; it’s better this way because if I want to play basketball, or dance, or play video games, there’s no one to stop me. Interviewer: Have you ever thought of leaving Park? I–016: No. Interviewer: Why did you decide to stay? I–016: Because I don’t have a family, I’m on my own. I want to stay because I know everybody here; I consider them like my own mothers and aunts. And those in the stores there, I consider them my older brothers; and my friends are like my own siblings because we meet together every day and night, to make a living. So I like it here. If I move to another place, I will need to start all over again. Whether I’m here or in another place, my priority is still to look for money. I’m not dreaming to be rich or to have a house, what I only want is to have a normal life. Interviewer: So why can’t you save money now? I–016: I have nowhere to keep my money in. . . . I don’t have a box to put my money in or no one to entrust my money with; I’m afraid they might just leave with it as soon as it’s full. Interviewer: How about sleeping on the streets, is it okay? I–016: Oh, it’s okay, I just join in with the rest. I’m used to it. It’s like inside the prison cell; people are packed like sardines, sleeping side by side. Interviewer: But no one disturbs you? I–016: What’s disturbing is when there’s gang war; usually, the gangs from this place against those from Boulevard. We’re afraid they might mistaken us to be

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members of a gang, they usually crawls in during dawn, to stab their enemy. That’s what we fear most, but aside from that, there are really no big problems here. Interviewer: If somebody asks you, how would you describe your Park community, what can you say about it? I–016: Oh, like a family. Interviewer: In your opinion, how would you describe the church? For example . . . there is . . . what is the church? I–016: It can also give me . . . Interviewer: What do you think of how the professionals see you while you lie or lounge in the Park? I–016: They say we are just eye-sore; that we’re the ones who give problems to the government because we make the Park ugly. They say a lot of things, that we are rugby boys; that we are snatchers; they accuse us of all the crimes there is . . . that’s what they think of us. Interviewer: You’ve seen children around in the Park, even younger than you are, how do you think living there affects their education? I–016: For me, if they enjoy being there, nothing can hamper their education. They just enjoy time with other friends of their parents’; but regarding their schooling, they cannot disobey because . . . Interviewer: Oh, but think of their living condition, can it affect their schooling? I–016: In my opinion, no it won’t. Interviewer: Why? I–016: Because it’s still okay; the families are still happy. It’s not boring . . . they are not stopping you. After coming from school, you can go and stroll. Your family doesn’t stop you. Interviewer: But why is it that the children cannot finish their studies. I–016: Ah, because others get influenced to being ‘choy-choy’ (street toughy) or ‘igat-igat’ (flirty) even at a young age of ten. But those who are disciplined by their parents, they are able to finish school.

Interview 19 English Transcription Interviewer: So, why did you start living in Park? I–019: Actually, the reason why I moved to Park was because I rebelled against my family. . . . Because I learned from my uncle that I was just adopted . . . so, my mind was so messed up, I rebelled. Interviewer: How old were you then? I–019: 14. Interviewer: And then . . .? I–019: Then . . . I was not thinking straight. . . . I rode a bus going to Davao. . . Then, I reached Davao. I arrived in Agro. I stayed in Agro, I slept there . . . my mind was still floating . . . then I just walked around . . . until my money ran out.

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Then I reached Rizal Park. . . . Rizal Park. I moved to Rizal Park . . . and availed of the free meals (porridge) from Mayor. After that, I learned about this Park and moved there. Interviewer: So, what do you expect from your child? I–019: Isn’t it true that the child needs his/her parents? I never really experienced that. I grew up being passed on to different families. That’s why now, I feel sorry for my child. Interviewer: Oh. I–019: But I’m thankful that she has her mother with her. My conscience is bothered if I don’t get to see my own daughter. I don’t want her to have the same experience as I did. Interviewer: So, do you go visit her often? I–019: I went to visit her one time, but the girl’s parents did not treat me well. But I did not go to visit them . . . but my daughter. Interviewer: Regarding the children in the community, what kind of discipline do you think they get from their parents? I–019: First, the parents . . . cannot, and do not give their children proper education. I also observe that they don’t take notice of what their children do, they just let them be. They want their children to grow up the way they did. Interviewer: What problems have you encountered or experienced in your stay at Park? I–019: My problems are the people who don’t understand each other. . . . The ‘mefirst attitude’ of the people there. I grew up in family with a good background. They taught me good manners, to obey rules, but the problem is, I got mixed up with this kind of people. So I encountered problems like: back-stabbing, backbiting, tale-bearing. Interviewer: If someone asks, ‘How would you describe your Park community’, what will you say? I–019: I’d say, ‘We are like one big family. Sometimes we understand and agree with each other, sometimes we don’t.’ That’s how I’ll describe it. Interviewer: When you get sick, what do you usually do? I–019: What do I do? When I’m sick and I feel tired, I just sleep. Interviewer: Tell me an instance where the community came together to help somebody? I–019: We helped . . . actually, the first was when Ernel died. The community contributed some amount for Ernel. Ernel was a part of our community, he had a wide experience, he was a big help to us, he was one of our group . . . but someone just stabbed him right there inside Park. Interviewer: Oh. I–019: Right there where we used to meet before. Many just thought that, ‘What a pity this man who was one of us. Although he was bad in some ways, he also had some goodness in him.’ So, even though I only had loose change in my pocket, the community came together to contribute and share some for him.

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Interviewer: How do you see the church? I–019: Like a ‘props’. Interviewer: Why? I–019: For me, is just a ‘props’. Interviewer: What do you mean? I–019: I don’t appreciate San Pedro Church. I cannot appreciate that . . . that is a temple of God. Interviewer: Why? I–019: Isn’t it that according to the Bible you cannot force those who attend church to give ‘contributions’ but only that which you can afford? But I don’t see that in the church. And then the attire of the people who go to church: they are wearing clothes for strolling at the malls like miniskirts or spaghetti strapped tops, not something for the church. San Pedro church was designed like the Ark of Noah, isn’t it? So for me it’s just like a ‘props’ or a ‘thing that you use’.

Focus Group 1 Transcript Moderator: What do you mean that people who end up living on the streets have to learn the street life? What is the difference of living on the streets as to those who live in houses? FG2: It is in the streets where you find all kinds of temptation. Some people, especially older ones, find it better to live in the streets because they do not feel at home in their homes with their children anymore, so they would rather live with others on the streets. FG5: For me, I find that there is more comradery on the streets than at home. There are more friends and happening outside here in the streets than I would have at home. FG7: When one lives in the confines of their homes, they tend to live in routine and experience and witness the same predictable things. When living on the streets you find the different dramas of life like fights, stealing and even killings. You will be able to gain a lot of friends outside and at the same time find different means of where and how to sleep. FG4: In living on the streets, one must know how to find ways and means to get money or food to be able to survive. We have to learn different little livelihood to earn a living, like shoe shining and washing cars. FG6: I had to learn and practice to do manicure and pedicure to earn a living. FG1: For one to live in the streets, I had to first get integrated to a group who already live on the streets to learn their way of life because they already know where to go and what to get. In the end I learned how to steal some food, like banana. FG3: I had to do the same livilihood as the group I was integrated in to fit in and survive, like stealing. Moderator: How does the community deal with hygiene? Showers, defecation, pee, etc.

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FG1: It is difficult to find or get water where we live so if we see one of our community members who have not taken a shower, we would understand as we also have a hard time to take one. But as women we try to make it a point to take a shower everyday. FG2: We are so used to not taking daily showers that it is ok if other also do not. We have scheduled showers in places where we can get water for free. But if for example we have an appointment to go to, we are forced to take unscheduled showers. FG5: If we cannot take showers, we just wash our clothes and wear them wet. Moderator: Explain how it works with your ‘bosses’ at work for watching/washing the cars? FG4: Some of the youth have their own ‘bosses’, that means those are the regular customers in watching/washing the car. They work in the area where we watch. The boss only gives to his regular watcher and does not give it to anyone else. FG2: If the youth watching there works well and the regular customer notices it, he most likely will be the ‘boss’ of that youth. Moderator: What happens if another person gets the money from the boss? FG4: They are suppose to tell the watcher that they got the money. Usually, if it were not from the ‘bosses’, whoever is there when the owner of the vehicle leaves is the one who gets the money. And if I am not there, I don’t ask for the money because I know they might not also be there and I get their money. FG2: A disagreement would arise among them and misunderstanding. And one of them will have to humble themselves to mend the friendship. FG6: Anger will brew between the two parties and since we don’t know the capacity of the anger, we try to minimize the conflict by not letting them both work together for a time to cool down. Moderator: Are there any unspoken/unwritten rules that you live by amongst the Park community? FG4: That we do not take if the other was already first. Never fight/take over someone who got the customer first. That would create a fight. But if the person watching leaves, then we can get the money because he is not there. FG1: You are looking for trouble if you take when another already was first. FG2: We should not destroy one another’s character, that is all we have. FG5: We should not steal from each other. Moderator: So, stealing from each other within the community is a big No. But what if one does it and is caught? FG1: A big fight will spew out if that happens. Why would that person get what I have worked for? FG2: The individuals would confront that person so that it will not get bigger. But if it is during hard times of the other, we somehow also try to understand. FG5: Sometimes it gets to the point of beating the person. FG7: For the women, a big fight with words would develop. FG6: If it happens to me, I just keep quiet and move on.

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Moderator: What if one of the community members steal and the one they stole from knows that it is one from the community who did it? What would the community do? FG2: If the person comes and complains, we will tell them that we are not the police and that he/she should go and report to the police about it. FG1: We would never tell them who it is if ever it happens. FG3: If someone comes and looks for a certain person because of that, even if the person is beside me, I would say I don’t know who they are looking for. Moderator: If somebody snitches about anybody in the community, how does the community deal with that person? FG2: We would think of the person as a traitor. There would be a change in how we see him/her and treat that person. The community will try to find a way to beat the person up. FG1: The community will slowly excommunicate the person. If that person continues to live with the community there would be no more trust toward that person. FG5: We will retaliate or get even with the person. FG7: The treatment toward that person will be different as with the others from the community. Moderator: When one of the community members of the youth get blessed financially, would everybody benefit form it? FG1: That is what is great in the community because when one gets good financial income, the whole group (of males) will go out on a drinking spree together. FG7: You can just be included in the blessing when that person buys you a drink or so because he got money. Moderator: What if that person would not share? FG1: We would think of that person as stingy but would not take it against him. FG2: It is also in the community that we have the sense of individualism and we believe that we are not obligated to give to others. It would be good if they give but it is not obligatory. Moderator: When the financial blessing is to one of the members of the family, would that trickle out to the whole community? FG2: That would stay in the family first. FG1: It would just be for that specific family. If it is the female who gets the financial blessing, it would go to the family first. But if it is the male, most of the money goes to ‘partying’. FG7: When the wife gets money, she thinks of the family members right away. But if it is the husbands, they have to divide the money and most of it goes to friends than to the family. Moderator: What is the purpose of lying to others and to each other? FG2: So that we would be able to get financial help from others. To each other also because of pride to show as if we have something even though we don’t. We also do it in the hope that we gain help from that person.

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FG5: We also do it to protect others/our friends. FG1: To gain admiration/esteem from others. FG3: We also lie to cover-up for our friends or to not get involved with whatever that other person is into or doing. Moderator: When the community finds out or witnesses the other member lying, what is done about it? FG7: We scorn the person with sarcasm. The community will nag that person. FG1: We tell the person outright. Or laugh at the person because we know that that person is lying. If it affects the whole community, a fight/quarrel will happen. Moderator: When a mischievous behaviour of a person is noticed, what does the community do about it? FG3: When it affects the family, or the community, the person has to leave. FG2: When the mischief ends up in physical hurt or endangering the community members, the person and his family should leave. The community will tell the family to leave. Moderator: Are there anythings that you do to keep the peace with the government that they will continue to allow you to stay there and live in the Park/streets? FG2: We obey their requests or commands for a time being. But we have to go back to the streets as we don’t have anywhere else to go. FG1: When the government wants us to stay away from the streets, we obey them only for a while, maybe maximum of four days out of respect. FG5: And when they tell us again, we obey again. There should be no gambling there, stealing or rowdiness. FG4: They cannot let us stop as we don’t have any other means of livelihood. Moderator: What if one person is in charge of making a list and forgets or does not include somebody in that list, how does the community see that? FG2: Most of the community will try to understand or find a reason of why that happened. But individually, there will be hurt feelings toward each other. FG7: The one not included would be offended but will usually not last long. Moderator: What is needed to live in your community? FG1: You have to work on getting along with us in the community. You have to be bold enough to enter whatever livelihood to be able to make money (including prostitution).You have to learn to work for your space to sleep, bringing sleeping stuff where you are going to sleep. You will learn to accept not to be very hygienic. FG7: One should treat us for drinks or snacks to win our attention/affection. ‘Pakikisama’ is very important. FG5: Usually newbies arrive with money they carry from home. The bait for fellowship with the community is treating some members. You have to start with establishing friendships first. Be friendly and contribute to the fellowship. FG2: You have to learn how to sleep in nooks and crannies. For men, stealing would be the first option. Do not be proud or humbug.

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Focus Group 2 Transcript Moderator: What does a person need to learn to start living with you in your community for the first time? FG6: There is not really a rule, as long as you do not hurt others or step on other people’s toes. FG2: We approach them first and get to know them and figure out if they fit in with our lifestyle. We tell them to observe how the old-timers live and listen to what they say and obey them. FG1: If they do not obey or do something that is hurtful to any of the old-timers, we would all come together and agree on the decision that that person should not be with us in the community. Moderator: What are things that you, as a community, see as wrong doing? FG1: When they live there and they don’t take try to live in harmony with others, they snob at each other or us. FG4: When during a drinking spree and one gets out of control of his actions and does wrong towards another member of the community, that is wrong. Then we would talk to the person and tell him that if it is done again, he most probably will alienate himself. FG7: Stealing amongst the community is really wrong. When one gets caught, that person will be confronted and reprimanded. FG2: There is an understanding that in the community, we are of the same status and are all in need and struggling. If one steals from the other, we don’t know how much in deep struggle that person is and you might be the reason that the person goes deeper in desperation. Moderator: What are other things that you consider right or wrong in the community? FG4: What is really wrong there is if one does bad things, like stealing and harming, toward another member of the community. FG1: The right thing to do is to help the other especially when the person really has nothing at all for the day and you have something to spare. FG2: Backbiting each other is wrong. Gossiping is wrong. FG7: Looking down at each other and hurting others is also wrong. Moderator: What are the things you consider bad and good? FG1: When you see somebody doing wrong, it is good if you give that person a good advice. What we consider bad is when you see someone doing wrong, you push that person to continue or do or say something that the person would continue to do what he is doing. FG7: The difference between the good and bad that people who have shelter and regular work have with us from the community is that they can stand firm with what is good because they have the means to everything like wants and needs. FG4: In the community, we consider stealing bad. But unlike the professionals, we sometimes get to the point that stealing is necessary because of dire need or

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desperation to survive and for the professionals, they always have access to their needs. FG1: We are sometimes forced to do bad things because of the situation that we are in, like not having food to eat at the end of the day. Moderator: What about the difference between beautiful and ugly? FG6: If given the choice, we would choose the better things in life. We would look for quality. FG6: What is good is having a goal in life. How can one person help another if he cannot or does not know how to help himself? Moderator: About technology, how does technology affect your life or living in the park? FG1: The technology can help us get in contact and communicate with others, like our family, who are away or far. The effect of technology is both positive and negative. It can be addicting and priorities are shifted. At the same time, one can be exposed to learn something that they would not otherwise have learned without it. FG2: Our interest in technology is driven by a purpose to use it. FG4: When our child sees that their classmates or friends have cell phones, and they come home saying that they want one also, that falls on us as parents. The pressure of providing. Some of our children these days spend our hard-earned money for internet or gaming. FG3: Even if children do not know how to use the computer, they can still be smart in all the other aspects of education. FG6: If a child needs to learn computer, it is very difficult for them to learn it in the internet café because the tendency is to do gaming and the knowledge or skill is different from what is needed in work. FG7: Technology has affected our lives because it forces us, parents, to give financially to our children just so they could go to the internet. They sometimes tell us that they can learn more there. FG8: Technology has put me lower in status. I get jealous of my classmates who know how to use the computer because they can practise. It pushes me to want to learn how to use the computer no matter if I have to always ask from my mother money so I can go to the café that I can practise using the computer. Moderator: What are other reasons why people in the community stop going to or attending church? FG5: Sometime work hinders us from going to church. FG1: Jealousy amongst church members, rivalry. FG9: Power struggle among chosen lay leaders. Observed conflict between members of the church, which did not set a good example. FG8: Peer pressure. FG2: Hurtful comments from Pastors/leaders that degrade their dignity. FG4: There might be exchange of words that is hurtful. A person might be able to observe behaviours or happenings in the church that does not conform with it’s own preaching.

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Moderator: What is your understanding of the church? FG2: The church is like a school where one can learn the message from the Bible through the Pastor. FG6: It is the road that leads and keeps us in a close relationship with God. FG1: Church is the door for communication to God. Church is where you can communicate with God. Moderator: In your opinion, can somebody living on the streets, despite many temptations, grow mature in their spirituality? FG6: There is hope for the children to grow spiritually depending on how the parents raise them. But when they are older, it depends on them if they continue in their faith as they have their own thinking. FG2: The children grow in spirituality if the parents show as example. FG4: It all depends on the person. Moderator: Can children grow up as mature, stable and healthy human beings? FG1: It depends on how they are brought up by their parents. FG6: If the children are raised up well, it is possible for them to grow as good contributors to society. Moderator: Can those who live on the streets change because they live on the streets? FG4: It depends on the person himself. It is almost impossible for a person who is constantly exposed to such violent environment become a better person. It takes a lot of energy and work to change for the better. FG1: It is possible if they see good things around in the community. FG5: If the person continues to stay on the streets, he cannot change. FG2: It is very hard to change when you are daily exposed to all the crimes, violence, injustice, pain and struggle. Moderator: Where can you find God on the streets? FG9: It is difficult to find Him but when you change, you will be able to find God in your heart. FG7: I can find Him in my heart; nowhere around the streets can I find Him. FG3: You (referring to the SO Team) were the ones I saw on the streets and have given me joy. You have brought joy to us and I am able to see God again through His grace. FG1: You (referring to the SO Team) were the ones who have opened our thoughts and brought us back to God. God used you to show us to the way back to Him. FG2: We are able to see God because of people like you. We see God through the people He uses to help and befriend us. Moderator: What is the view of the economic sector on the people of your community? FG5: They don’t trust us because they already believe that we are not trustworthy. FG6: The economic sector most of the time have discrimination, ex. height; have to have long experience, and when everybody is looking for experience, no one who is new can find work.

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FG1: Even in the government, it was the supervisor who discriminates because they find out that we are living in the Park. FG4: The economic sector underestimates us who live in the Park. That we are dirty, thieves, and don’t know how to work. Moderator: What does the educational sector see when they find out that you are living on the streets. FG9: Some teachers are very supportive and give advice to our children and us. FG8: A lot of our teachers have pity and go the extra mile in helping us. Moderator: What about the government’s view on you and your community? FG4: We are the problem of the government, however, the government themselves always make promises of help but never follow through. FG1: The government sees us that we are the problem. FG2: That we are liars. Moderator: What reactions do you get from people who see you and know that you live on the streets? FG9: We have learned to act blind to all the negative reaction, comments and gestures of people who pass by us. Moderator: Effects of living in the park to the children’s education? FG8: Some children/classmates mock and make fun of us because we are poor or because we only live in the Park. Peer pressure is very strong. FG5: The children are sometimes discriminated also. FG6: You can never get a good enough sleep no matter how long because you are constantly disturbed especially by very loud and noisy vehicles that pass by.

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244

INDEX

A Acobe, E. 161 advocacy 5–7, 14, 16–18 Ammerman, Nancy Tatom 74 ancestors 141, 153 Anderson, Ray 63 Andres, Tomas 35, 89, 106, 108, 163 Angelology 139 angels 139–41, 161, Angrosino, Michael 37 Anthropology(gical) ix, xiii n.2, 31, 33–4, 78–9, 88, 98, 111, 129, 141 n.107, 168, 183, 186 Aquinas, Thomas 6 Aschroft, Bill 77 Augustine 59–60 Avis, Paul 28 B Baptism 55 n.46, 57, 68, 94–5, 108, 159, 162–5, 174, 175–6, 205 Barth, Karl 7, 27–8 Bartunek, Jean M. 34 Bauer, Walter 66 Baum, Gregory 54 Bechina, Friedrich 147, 149 Beltran, Benigno 7 Berger, Peter 73 Bernard, Russell 38 Bevans, Stephen 116–17 Bhabha, Homi 77 Bible viii, 15–16, 32, 43–4, 51, 108, 114 n.6, 118–19, 138–40, 144, 153, 159, 170–1, 178, 189, 218, 223 (see also Scripture) Boelen, Bernard 151 Body of Christ ix, 4, 26, 50, 52, 54, 58–9, 64, 66, 146, 176, 182–3, 191, 195 Boff, Leonardo 185 n. 8

Bonhoeffer, Dietrich 7, 25, 31 Bourg, Florence C. 150, 152–3, 154 Bruhn, John 19 Bulatao, Jaime 111, 163 Bultmann, Rudolf 139, 142–3 Burkhard, John 62 C Cahill, Spencer E. 19 Calvin, John 150, 175 n. 70 Cannell, Fenella 81 n. 40 case study 3, 35–6, 38, 40, 111, 145, 181, 184, 186 Chan, Simon 1, 152, 191–2 Charmaz, Kathy 42 Christianity 1, 3 n.14, 6 n.28, 11, 78, 109, 111, 113, 143, 153, 163–5, 191–4 Christology 124 all-powerful 140, 191 cosmic 191 inarticulate 7 inclusive 135–6, 176, 191 Church(es) 2, 12–13, 16–18, 22–4, 31–2, 44, 54, 68–70, 78, 113, 117–18, 122, 128, 139, 187–9 (see also ecclesiology) Asian 1 assemblies 2 Attributes of the 55–6, apostolicity of the 62, 177 body of Christ (see Body of Christ) catholic 61, 95, 177 Roman Catholic 158, 166 Christ’s 25 Christian 47–8 contemporary 10 contextual 29–30, 145–6, 186 diakonia 22, 64, 65–6, 71, 166, 177–8, 185

245

246

Index

domestic 148–50, 153, 155, 157 ecclesiality of the 48, 50–1, 55–6, 60, 63–5, 70–1, 73–4, 174, 186 (see also ecclesiality) ekklêsia viii, 2, 9, 49, 75, 111 emerging 4 empirical 28, 186 eschatological 22, 49, 58–9, 61, 70, 145, 170, 185 eschatological family 127 family (of God) 24, 51, 124–8,130, 139, 144, 145–6, 148–52, 168–9, 176, 187, 189–90 (see also familia Dei) Fellowship of Saints (see Fellowship of Saints) Filipino 24, 78, 145, 163, 165, 193 (see also Ecclesiology) history 10 holy 59–61, 176 households 2, 126–7, 148 identity of the 9, 148, 151–2, 158 idealist view of 27 images of the 49–51, 71, 144, 185 institutional 15, 108, 146–7, 155–9, 162, 164, 168, 182, 190, 193 Jesus Christ (see Jesus) koinonia 22, 58, 64–5, 66, 71, 177, 178, 185 kerygma 22, 64, 66, 131–2, 142–3, 177–8, 185 leitourgia 22, 64, 67, 166, 177 local 33, 55, 58–9, 61, 63, 181, 184 locality of the 28–9, 47, 71, 185–6 Filipino 24, 145 marginal 3, 183, 195 marks of the 27, 55–7, 61, 149, 175 martyria 22, 64, 66–7, 177, 178–9, 185 mission of the 10, 49, 58, 63, 167, 169, 194 model of the 28–9, 51, 67, 144, 170 (see also model/s) New Creation (see New Creation) mystery of the 11, 73, 150–1, 177, 195 nature of the 4, 9, 11, 28, 51, 53, 66, 152, 156, 171–3, 185 New Testament 50–1 one 4, 28, 55, 57–8, 63, 71, 145, 148, 169, 172, 175–6 people of God (see People of God)

pilgrim 51, 60, 153–4, 174 practices 21(see also ecclesial practices) Protestant 158, 162 place of the 10, 24, 48, 51, 67, 70 purpose of 9, 114 street-level 8 n.32, traditional 3, 161–2, 165, 170, 174, 179 unity of the 4, 52, 58, 176 worldwide 24 Church of the Poor 187, 191, 194–5 Church planting theory 9, 20–1, 183–4 City(ies) ix, 1–3, 12–3, 15, 17, 79–81, 84–5, 100–1, 104–5, 133, 171, 179, 182–3, 195, 203 critical contextualization 30, 121 Claver, Francisco F. 181 Clifton, Shane 56 n.49, 58 Clinton, Arnold 139 Coleman, John 31 Colonial(ism) 13, 75, 76, 92, 120, 122 colonized consciousness 77, 146–7, 194 colonial mentality (mindset) 78–9, 163 hybrid identity 77 inferior self-perception 76, 78, 98, 106 neo-colonialism 76–8 post-colonial 77, 123, 147 confession 57, 60, 68, 162, 170, 172–5, 194 Congar, Yves 68 Conn, Harvie M. 17 Constanino, Renator 75 conversion 16, 52, 123 Copeland, Shawn M. 52 Covenant 11, 50, 151, 155, 156, 176 D Davey, Andrew 16 de Mesa, José M. 77–8, 163 Dever, Mark E. 49 demons 139–42, 163 diakonia (see Church) dialogue 4–5, 7, 26, 30, 32, 48, 53, 55, 63, 71, 113–14, 136, 143, 146, 160, 169, 181–2, 186, 190, 192, 194–5 discipleship 16, 18, 62, 124, 126, 137, 144, 149, 184 Donovan, Peter 34 n.54 Dulles, Avery 50–1 Dumas, André 25

Index E Ecclesial-oriented paradigm 8, 12, 14, 18–22, 74, 182–3 Ecclesial practices 22, 26, 146, 149, 153, 157–9, 162, 164–5, 179, 185, 190, 192–4 Eucharist 52–3 liturgical 59 Ecclesial Fruitfulness (vitality) 22, 51, 53–5, 69–71, 174–5, 181, 185 Ecclesiology 4, 8–10, 21, 29, 32, 57, 121, 167, 179, 181–2, 186 abstract 27 blueprint 28, 145 classical 25, 51, 148, 185 contextual 24 contextual theology 172 ecumenical 173 embodied 184 empirical 71, 158 ethnography 31 Filipino 146, 193 Free Church 175 ideal(istic) 11, 26–7, 71, 185 inarticulate 7 familia Dei 1, 3, 149, 152, 168, 187 (see also familia Dei) local 22, 26, 33, 47–8, 70, 195 marginal(ized) 3, 5, 10, 22, 114, 195, 114, 195 New Testament 50, 64 practical oriented 22, 25 social sciences 30 traditioinal 185 trinitarian 145 urban ix, 2 Ecclesiality 22, 27, 47–51, 53–7, 62–3, 67–71, 162, 172–5, 185–7 (see also Ecclesiology) ecunemical 1 n.3, 2, 4, 51, 52 n.31, 53, 55, 62, 69, 113, 169, 173, 175, 192 n.18 (see also Ecclesiology) Edwards, Denis 151 Elliott, John H. 126 n.65 ekklêsia (see Church) Ethnograph(ical)y 12, 23–4, 31–3, 36, 40, 75, 79, 146 emic 35, 37, 39 Empire 1

247

empirical methodology viii, 35 Eucharist 9, 51–4, 62, 160–1, 171, 194 (see also Lord’s Supper) Evangelii Nuntiandi 150 Evangelii Gaudium 194 F familia Dei 24, 51, 71, 126, 136, 147–59, 161, 166–72, 174, 176, 181, 187–90, 195 (see also Church and Ecclesiology) leadership 166–7 Fammilaris Consortio 150, 156 Fellowship of Saints 50 Fernandez, Eleazar 77, 92 Fiddes, Paul 73 Filipino(s) ix, xiii–xiv, 37, 44, 75–9, 85, 92, 107–11, 146–7, 153, 164, 168–9, 183, 187–9, 193 church (see Church and Ecclesiology) contexts 35, 133, 145, 148, 181 cultures 78, 97, 109–10, 163 bahala na 107 bata (relationship) 106 dangal 97–8 hiya 97–8, 130 kuripot 104 mayabang 104 pakikisama 97, 104, 221 tabi 110, 193 utang na loob 95 family 88–9, 95, 148 identidy 43 popular religious forms 7, 131 residential communities 23, 74, 87, 91, 96, 98, 181 society 23, 88, 172, 195 social order (structure) 88, 112, 170 value 94, 104 Filipino community facing homeless codes of conduct 33, 73, 102, 127, 144 leadership 96, 98, 99, 137 Morality 102, 153, 172 Fiore, Quentin 74 Fiorenza, Elisabeth Schüssler 119, 148 focus groups 33, 35, 38–9, 42, 106, 198, 218, 222 Fontanilla, Victorino D. 79 n.34 Fox, Robert B. 168

248

Index

Francis (pope) 194 Freire, Paulo 78, 119 Fuller Theological Seminary x, xi, 101 G Gaillardetz, Richard 12, 53–4, 57 n.53, 151 Geertz, Clifford 35 Gibbs, Graham 37 Gonzáles, Justo 10 Grenz, Stanley J. 49, 51, 120 Greenway, Roger 20–1 Griffith, Marie Dugger 127 Grimmond, John 12 Grounded theory 37, 39 n.69, 40–2, 45 Gustafson, James M. 29 n.24 Gutiérrez, Gustavo 118, 120 H Haight, Roger 28 Häring, Bernard 169 Hauerwas, Stanley 11 Healy, Nicholas 28–9 Hellerman, Joseph H. 149 Hiebert, Paul G. 30, 32, 44, 59, 121, 143, 193 (Holy) Spirit viii–ix, xi, 12, 26, 48, 59, 63, 68, 131, 139, 151–2, 159, 170, 172, 185, 190 ecumenical 1 n.3, 53, 55, 175 fruit of the 70, 189 prophetic 2 Word and 57 household of God 148 Homelessness ix, xiii, 8, 17, 19–20, 182–3, 185 honour 5, 23, 96–7, 125, 128–34, 136–9, 143–4, 147, 152, 155, 165, 167, 174, 176, 181, 188–90 (see also shame) Hopewell, James F. 75 Hwang, Jerry 154 n.24 I Ignatius of Antioch 61, 67, 173 incarnate(ion) 156 word viii Christ 11, 170, 177, 185 Son 152 Interviews 33, 35, 38–42, 76, 82, 89, 92, 99–100, 106, 108, 197, 201, 203

J Jesus 22, 64–5, 123, 171 church of 4, 53, 61, 79, 150 (see also Church) death and resurrection 50, 122 disciples of xiv, 11 family and 124–8, 136, 166, 168, 188 followers of 59, 152 gathering around 67, 79, 148, 151, 170, 172, 174, 185–7, 189–90 good news of 12, 178 healing 135 honour and 129–34, 137–9, 167, 176 homeless viii, 160–2, 195 life, ministry and teaching of 43–4, 144 Lord(ship) 2, 59, 173, 175 mission given by 117 practice of 52 prayer and 58 proclamation 66, 68–9 salvation and 54 Spirit of viii spiritual world and 139–42 Suffering Servant 154 Jenkins, Philip 113 John XXIII (pope) 4 John Paul II (pope) 150 Jocano, F. Landa 87, 97–8 Joy, David 123 justice 23, 62, 65, 186, 175, 178 K Kärkkäinen, Veli-Mati 57, 60 Kasper, Walter 26 n.10 kerygma (see Church) Keshishian, Aram 64 Keener, Craig S. 141 n.107 Kingdom of God 11, 63, 65, 69. 125, 139, 141, 153–4, 167–71, 173, 176–7, 184, 187, 190, 193 Kinship 23, 35, 75, 87–90, 97, 99, 106, 112, 124–5, 127–31, 136, 144, 148, 151, 162, 166–9, 181, 187–8, 190 koinonia (see Church) Komonchak, Joseph 26, 28 Koyama, Kosuke 192 Koskela, Douglas M. 48 Kwok, Pui-lan 5 n.23, 134

Index L Lapiz, Ed 78, 163 Lee, Jung Young 3 leitourgia (see Church) Leoncini, Dante Luis P. 104 Lewis, C.S. 143 Lewis, Oscar 17 n.61 Licuanan, Patricia B. 107 Lingenfelter, Sherwood xi, 39 n.69 Lincoln, Timothy 168 Local Ecclesiological Method(ology) 22, 25–9, 31, 145, 148, 185–6 Lofland, Lyn H. 19 Lord’s Supper 45, 51–2, 54, 68, 159–61, 171, 174–5, 189 (see also Eucharist) Lumen Gentium 60 Lonergan, Bernard 120 Luckmann, Thomas 73 Lupton, Robert 13 Luther, Martin 55 n.46, 60, 114, 175 n.70 Lyons, Tanya 7 M MacIntyre, Alasdair 158 Maggay, Melba xi, 78, 111, 163 Malina, Bruce J. 129 marginalized (margins) ix, xiv, 4, 8–10, 13, 15, 19, 21, 32, 60, 77, 80, 95, 101, 104, 106, 113, 118–20, 122, 123, 146, 167, 171, 178, 182, 185, 189, 191, 194–5 Church and (see Church) centrality and 12 ecclesiologies (see Ecclesiology) hermeneutical 194 inclusions at the 161 narrative 2 space 3, 5 people 6, 127, 176–7 voices 172, 177, 184, 194 marginal ecclesial narrative 24, 48, 177, 191, 195 martyria (see Church) Maxwell, Joseph A. 36–7 McBrien, Richard 4, 49, 51 McGrath, Alister E. 62 McLuhan, Marshall 74 McKinley, William 76 Medina, Belen T. G. 88, 95

249

Method(ology) 9, 38, 40, 45, 123, 172, 183 contextualization 121 n.45 demythologizing 142 ecclesiological 25–9, 31, 42–3, 50, 53, 145, 148, 185–6 empirical viii, 35 ethnographical 33 hermeneutical 119, 124 social science 36, theological 120 theoretical 22 qualitative (see qualitative research) Missio Dei 63, 151, 190, 194 missiology(ical) viii, ix, 9, 12, 58 mission(al) ix, xii, 3, 6, 9, 12, 14, 19, 24, 30, 33, 48, 51, 54–6. 58, 61, 63, 65–6, 70–1, 117, 126–7, 144–7, 158, 167–71, 173–4, 177, 184–8, 194 church (see church) urban xi, 11, 15–16, 20–2, 182–3 missionaries 78, 115, 131, 163–4, 170, 186, 190 Minear, Paul Sevier 47, 50 model(s) (see also Church) contextualization 30, 120–1, 121 n.42/n.43/n.44/n.45 ecclesiological 168 interpretative 118 of church 28–9, 51, 64, 67, 144–5, 170 of theology 26, 114, 119–20 Moltmann, Jürgen 55 n.46, 57, 60, 63, 69, 176–7 Monsma, Timothy M. 13, 20–1 Moreau, A. Scott 120–1 Moses, Robert E. 143, 164 Mueller, J.J. 115 Murphy, Nany 118 N Natioinal Conference of Catholic Bischops 150 Narayan, Kirin 34 New Creation 50, 61, 151 Neyrey, Jerome H. 129, 132, notae ecclesia (internae and externae) 22, 49, 56 n.52, 63–4, 69–1, 177–8, 185

250

Index

O O’Brien, John 21 Ormerod, Neil 27–8 oral 43, 66, 144, 159 cultures 44 Ortiz, Manuel 17 Oporto, Santiago Guijarro 126 Osborne, Grant 120 P Pantoja, Luis 43 participant observation 12, 35, 37–8, 42–3 Paul, Sean Christopher 53–4 Paul VI (pope) 150, 177 People of God 26, 50, 61, 64–5, 116–17, 151, 159, 162, 168, 174, 191 Pears, Angie 120 Pernia, Antonio 160 Phan, Peter 30, 184 preaching 55 n.46, 62, 68–9, 130, 164, 173, 175 n.70 priesthood of all believers 117 privileged centers 3 poor xiv, 9, 14, 16–17, 21, 23, 60, 74, 80, 83, 96, 100, 102, 109, 113, 128, 134–5, 175, 177–8, 181, 192, 195 Christ’s presence among the 69 elite (rich) and the 89, 92, 95, 11, 161, 168 hermeneutics with the 118, 191 God’s heart for the 13 listen to the 5 liberation of the 191 Preferential Option for the 4, 118 powerless 123 service to the 15, 173–4 theology with the 194 urban 7, 12–13, 15, 20, 95, 166, 171, 182, 184 power 5, 128, 144 centres of 12 colonial 76–7 evil 110 FCH and 98–9, 112, 146, 223 demons and 142 discursive 6 honour and 129 hidden (margins) and 10 institutional 177

Jesus and 8, 63, 137, 140, 163 misuse of 16, 166–7 political 123, 139, 169 principalities and 165, 193 sacraments and 156 Satan and 141 spirits and 111, 139 societal 147 supernatural 164 Q qualitative research 33, 35–8 R Rafaek, Vicente L. 75 n.14 Rahner, Karl 156–7 reconciliation 45, 55, 97, 152, 172, 173–4, 176, 178, 190, 192 n.18, 194 Resener, Carl R. 14 Rice, Richard 11 Rieger, Joerg 76 Rizal, Jose xi Roces, Maria Natividad 94 Roest, Henk de 3 Roloff, Jürgen 114 Ruether, Rosemary 127, 148 Ryan, Gery W. 38 S sacraments 52–3, 58–9, 68–9, 156, 162, 165, 171, 173, 275 salvation 61, 63, 66 Santos, Narry 98, 133, 137–8, 144 Satan 137, 139–42, 154 Scharen, Christian Batalden 32 Schlink, Edmund 52 Schreiter, Robert 116 Schweyer, Stefan 114 n.6 Scripture 4, 9–11, 13, 18, 21, 30, 32–3, 43–4, 47, 51, 56, 61, 66–7, 69–70, 114, 116–18, 121 n.42 and n.44, 124, 131, 142–3, 146, 148, 159, 164–6, 172, 185–6, 193 (see also Bible) Sedmak, Clemens 115–16, 120 Segovia, Fernando 118 shame 23, 93, 96–7, 122, 124, 128–39, 143–4, 147, 181, 188, 190, 192 n.18 (see also honour)

Index Shaw, Daniel R. xi, 29, 30, 32, 59 Smedes, Lewis B. 47 Sociological(ly) 22, 29, 31, 34, 70, 121, 146, 183, 185–6 Song, C. S. 191 space 77 exclusion 13 God’s (Christ) presence 157, 159, 170, 187–9 hermeneutical 194 homeless ix interstitial 191 in-between 77 marginal 3, 5 Third 194 urban 1, 3, 179, 182 spiritual world xiii n.2, 33, 95, 109–11, 139–42, 144, 164–5, 192–3 spiritual beings (mediums) 109, 136 n.98, 139–40, 142, 164–5, 193 spiritual forces 163 spiritual mediators 131 spiritualistic belief xii split-level Christianity (see Christianity) supernatural 23, 109–10, 124, 139–41, 143–4, 147, 153, 162–5, 192 n.18, 193 Spivak, Gayatri 6 Stake, Robert 62 Stewart, Eric C. 186–7 Strobel, Charles 15 subaltern(ity) 5–7, 123, 195 Suffering avoid 141 of Christ 52, 56, 67, 178, 194 colonization 123 of the FECH 154, 195, 210 demons 142 earthly 139 and persecution 55 n.46 people 60 Philippines 77 Servant 154 shameful 138, 181 Sullivan, Francis 52 T Tabbada, Emil V. 97 Tanner, Kathryn 73

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Taylor, Mark 5–6 Teague, Willie 155 Tertullian 67 theologians 23, 26, 111, 195 Asian 184, 191 Asian elitist 1, 191–2 Filipino 78, 160, 163 urban 15 professional 114, 116–17 Mission 170 theologizing 32, 116–18, 120 self- 114, theology viii, 4, 23–4, 33, 143, 149, 155, 164, 167, 184, 188 Asian 1 Christian 113, 126 communal 191, 194 contextual 43, 120, 172 ecclesial 42, 114, 1446 economic ix espoused 23, 42–3, 45, 162 Filipino 146, 153 Grassroots 1, 191–2, intercultural 190–1 liberation 118 local 22, 26, 30–1, 114–20, 145–6, 186, 193 New Testament 50, of the Church 4, 26, 145, 195 operant 23, 42–3, 45, 162 practical ix political ix, social ix, urban 2, 9, 182 universal 114, Tillard, Jean-Marie Rene 64 Tillich, Paul 120 Tiersma-Watson, Jude xi transform(ation) 6, 8, 9, 12–13, 15, 17, 22, 30, 55, 60, 66, 71, 74, 115, 119, 133, 137, 144, 146, 156, 158, 165–6, 168–72, 174, 179, 181, 183–4, 186, 188, 189–90, 194–5 Trinitarian viii, 64, 151–2, 170, 174 trinitarian ecclesiology (see Ecclesiology) Trinity 57–8, 151–2, 178 Toews, John E. 50

252 U ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia 67–70, 122, 173, 175 n.70, 185, 186 urban mission (see mission) urbanization 1–2, 9, 13, 19 United Nations 2, 13 V Van der Ven, Johannes 26 Van Engen, Charles xi, 29, 50, 56, 66, 174, Van Gennep, Arnold 90 Vatican 149 Velasco, Joey A. 161 Volf, Miroslav 7, 54, 56, 61, 68, 173–5

Index W Ward, Frances 36 Wrede, William 130 World Council of Churches 52, 55, 58–60, 194 Y Yin, Robert 36 Yong, Amos x, xii, 5 Yoder, John Howard 58 Z Zizioulas, Jean 52

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