THE 1987 Constitution of the Philippines (Article II, Section 6) declares: “The separation of Church and State shall be inviolable.”
With only six days left before the 498th anniversary of Ferdinand Magellan’s “discovery” of the Philippines (March 16, 1521), we wonder how such Church-State “separation” played out during the Spanish regime.
Remember when Magellan and his men anchored on Mactan Island with, figuratively, a cross in one hand and a sword in the other? He preached Christianity to the resistant natives and ended up dead in the hands of native chieftain Lapu-Lapu.
The 1995 book Outcry for Change by the late Eugenio Galido (edited by this writer) chronicled a number of researched conflicts between the Spanish government and the Church. Let us recount a few of them.
It was not until four decades after Magellan’s death that Spain succeeded in colonizing the archipelago through conquistador Miguel Lopez de Legaspi. By then, Spanish explorer Ruy López de Villalobos had named the country Filipinas in honor of King Philip II.
Miguel Lopez assumed the position of governor-general of Cebu, accompanied by friars who tried to soften native resistance by preaching them the Christianity doctrine.
Guido de Lavezaris, who succeeded Legaspi as governor-general of Cebu in 1572, could not get along well with his friar counterpart, Father Rada, who competed with him for authority.
The first Bishop of Manila, Domingo de Salazar, had just assumed his post in 1581 when he publicly denounced the governor-general, Ronquillo de Penolosa, for wielding “too much power.”
In 1633, Governor-General Diego de Salcedo was not in good terms with Archbishop Poblete. When Poblete died, Salcedo forbade the tolling of the bells and the embalming of his remains. Enraged, the clergy convinced the powerful Inquisition to seize Salcedo and send him to Mexico to face charges.
In 1635, Governor-General Hurtado de Corcuera raided San Agustin church in Manila to arrest a fugitive soldier suspected of murdering a girl. Archbishop Ramon Guerrero tried to intervene but in vain. Corcuera locked up not only the murder suspect but the archbishop, too, in Fort Santiago.
When Corcuera’s term ended in 1644, the friars found a sympathetic ear in his successor, a certain Fajardo, who had Corcuera jailed in Fort Santiago for five years – a case of the jailer becoming the jailed.
These government-friar clashes worsened in 1719 under the administration of Governor-General Fernando Manuel de Bustamante. Against the wishes of all religious orders, he squandered government money in rebuilding the fortifications in Zamboanga. He imprisoned people on the pretext of “conspiracy against me.” Having found a common ground for unity, the friars and hundreds of Filipinos mobbed Bustamante, killing him and his son.
To mend the church-state feud, Spain appointed an archbishop, Rojo Rojo, concurrent governor-general in 1762. He ruled for only a few weeks and was succeeded by Simon de Anda.
On returning to Spain for a courtesy call with the king, Anda denounced Rojo, the bishops and the friars in the Philippines for being more interested in money than in saving souls and in interfering with governmental functions.
In 1863, Archbishop Felipe Pardo refused to obey the royal decree of Governor-General Juan de Vargas, prompting the latter to go to court, the Royal Audiencia, which consequently sent the defying friar to Lingayen, Pangasinan for exile.
That the above tales sound familiar today reminds us of the saying, “History repeats itself.” (hvego31@gmail.com/PN)
