By Felipe Salvosa II
Is it possible for the Filipino nation to trace its emergence to one library?
If,
as a scientist once said, "A great library contains the diary of the
human race," then the library of Asia’s oldest existing university,
Santo Tomas, starts the firsthand account of how the Philippines came to
being and who the Filipino really is.
It is but natural
for the Dominican-run University of Santo Tomas (UST) to bring out the
most valuable among its collection of 12,000 or so rare books in time
for its 400th founding anniversary next year, but rather than exhibit
them as curiosities like the Crown Jewels or even the Shroud of Turin,
the "Pontifical" institution has decided to place the library, and
itself in the process, in the context of the global forces that shaped
history.
The result is Lumina Pandit: An Exhibit of Historical Treasures, the UST library’s multimillion-peso quadricentennial exhibition that speaks of "spreading the light."
By Felipe Salvosa II
SANTO TOMAS is 400 years old.
Paeans and plaudits will
surely be bestowed upon the “Pontifical” and the “Royal” university run
by the Order of St. Dominic de Guzman, extolling its glorious history,
boasting of its presidents, magistrates, clerics, and saints.
But the claim to antiquity aside, how did it manage to last this long, after two wars, three colonizers, and natural calamities?
The
University of Santo Tomas was not, strictly speaking, the first
university. The honor belongs to Universidad de San Ignacio, the college
put up by the Jesuits on 1590. In Cebu, the order founded by St.
Ignatius of Loyola opened the Colegio de San Ildefonso five years later.
But the politics of the time led to the expulsion of the Society of
Jesus from all Spanish dominion in 1768, allowing UST to claim today the
distinction of “oldest existing university,” not only in the
Philippines but in Asia.
By Felipe Salvosa II
Not too long ago, October was a high point in
the religious and cultural life of Old Manila. High society and commonfolk
trooped to the gothic temple of Santo Domingo in the Walled City to venerate a centuries-old Marian icon in return for favors granted --
protection from foreign invasion, calamities, even personal miracles
like safe childbirth. Prominent business families like the Zobels,
Sorianos, Roxases, Ayalas, and Ortigases led the nation in keeping the
annual tradition.
The often repeated lamentation is that the festivities
have since been forgotten, more noticeably by high society. Four centuries
later, however, the religious and cultural tradition has not lost its luster,
as evidenced by the multitude of devotees who continue to witness the lavish
parade of 27 Dominican icons led by the Lady of the Rosary, La Naval de Manila.
The haunting Spanish hymn, “Despedida a la Virgen,” is still the highlight of
the novena. To be sure, the La Naval feast has
built a wider, solid following dominated by the resilient
Filipino middle class.
It is also an informed devotion. The story is told
over and over again: In 1646, two rickety trading ships, hurriedly fitted
with artillery uprooted from the Cavite naval base, were able
to defeat a formidable armada from Calvinist Holland (reputedly 18
galleons), which was bent on taking over the Catholic colony of Spain. The
David vs. Goliath victory was attributed to La Naval. The then Spanish
governor-general had pledged to march barefoot to Santo Domingo if granted
victory. A choir sung the rosary nonstop as the sea battles raged.
