PAUTWAS: A Postscript to a Community Praying the Our Father as a Synodal Church

 



The Golden Jubilee of the Diocese of Kalibo was not only a celebration of fifty years of grace; it was also an examination of conscience. In his homily, Jose Cardinal Advincula reminded us that a synodal Church walks with those on the margins. At the close of the Eucharist, Bishop Jojo Villareal asked the question that now lingers in our hearts: "Now that we're here to celebrate our golden jubilee as a Diocese, what now?"

Perhaps the answer is found in the prayer Jesus himself taught us. The Our Father is the grammar of Christian discipleship and the spirituality of a synodal Church. Every petition teaches us how to become the people God desires us to be.

"Our Father..."

The prayer begins not with my Father but our Father. Synodality begins there. Before we become administrators, ministers, or experts, we are brothers and sisters belonging to the same household of God. Balete’s story has long reflected this conviction. Its BCC/BEC, chapel presidents, finance committee, Panimbahon leaders, catechists, apostoles, youth leaders, and priests never built isolated ministries; they built relationships. The Church became recognizable because people knew one another by name and shared burdens.

"Give us this day our daily bread."

This petition challenges a generation convinced that security comes from accumulation. The people of Balete understood dependence differently. The transition from the Arancel system to the voluntary Pledge System was more than financial reform; it was an act of trust that God's people would sustain God's mission together. Capilya Presidents and Finance Committees became stewards of communion itself.

The Apostoles-Farmers discovered the same lesson. African Night Crawlers carried home from Bacolod became symbols of hope, teaching that daily bread grows from patient labor and healthy soil rather than expensive chemical inputs. Through dagyaw, neighbors literally became one another’s daily bread.

Today, in 2026, our hunger has changed. We are tempted by instant solutions, instant information, and instant gratification. Pope Leo XIV’s recent encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, warns against losing our humanity to economic utility and artificial tools. While convenience quietly becomes a modern temptation, we risk becoming consumers of spirituality rather than disciples who patiently cultivate it. Daily bread is still received, never manufactured.

"Forgive us our trespasses..."

A mature Church is a scarred Church carrying both grace and failure. Every parish has stories of misunderstood intentions, neglected voices, and misplaced priorities. Synodality demands the humility to remember that we need forgiveness before we can proclaim it. The Church of the Poor is evangelical because the poor know what vulnerability feels like. They understand that reconciliation is a daily necessity for survival. Perhaps the greatest poverty we must recover is the courage to admit that we need one another.

"Lead us not into temptation."

The greatest temptations facing the Church today often arrive dressed as success. We are tempted to measure ministry by attendance, budgets, and impressive infrastructure, mistaking visibility for vitality. We can easily become professional rather than pastoral, connected digitally but absent personally. Even our liturgies can become performances where choirs sing instead of the community.

The counter-narrative was found on the dusty roads of Balete. The image of Fr. Tito Gelito riding on his unpainted, customized paog-paog pickup—aptly named Pautwas—with only Nonoy's guitar and Kulas' voice, was not pastoral minimalism born of necessity alone. It revealed confidence that Christ remains the center of worship. The host communities were never burdened with providing ostentatious meals for an entourage. Relying on simple lay companions, Pautwas brought a ministry of presence where the people did not come to watch the liturgy; they became its living voice.

"Deliver us from evil."

Individualism whispers that we owe nothing to anyone, while modern distractions can slowly replace presence with convenience. Against these forces stands the historical witness of Balete: farmers choosing stewardship over exploitation, women of the Accu-Herbal Group healing through shared wisdom, lay leaders walking mountain trails, and musicians praying over Scripture before choosing hymns. These are acts of resistance against a culture that measures everything by profit and speed.

"For yours is the Kingdom..."

What now? Perhaps now is the time not to become a bigger Church, but a deeper one—courageous enough to choose presence over performance and communion over efficiency.

As we continue our pilgrimage under the banner of Kita ro Simbahan, Kita Kaibahan, the legacy of Era, Nay Tesing, Nong Donie, Fr. Tito, Msgr. Frac, Padre Marlon and those who once walked with us along the narrow path of Christian witnessing reminds us that the Kingdom grows from below. The answer to "What now?" is astonishingly simple: we pray the Our Father again. But this time, like the roaring community voices sparked by the arrival of Pautwas, we dare to become the prayer we have been reciting all our lives.