If you’ve sung Catholic songs such as Papuri sa Diyos, Magnificat (Ang Puso Ko’y Nagpupuri), and Pananagutan, then you’ve been touched by the music of “Father Honti.”

“Father Honti,” or Father Eduardo “Eddie” Pardo Hontiveros, SJ, was the late great Jesuit musician who pioneered the use of Filipino church songs at Catholic Masses in the 1960s. Now rightfully considered the “Father of Filipino Liturgical Music,” he died at the age of 84 on January 15, 2008. 

A week ago, on October 12, I had the privilege of attending a Saturday night concert in honor of Father Honti’s 100th birth anniversary.

Organized by Jesuit Communications, “Luwalhati sa Diyos: The Legacy of Father Honti” was a three-hour musical feast at Ateneo de Manila Grade School’s Henry Lee Irwin Theater. The concert featured artists who were mentored or inspired by the late Jesuit priest, such as Bukas Palad, Himig Heswita, Pansol Choir, Tinig Barangka, and the children’s choir Young Voices of the Philippines.

I found myself in tears in different parts of the concert, first because Father Honti’s songs formed a huge part of my childhood — those days when I would sings his Papuri Sa Diyos at Saint Martin de Porres Parish in Parañaque City and, during Christmas or summer breaks, at the 17th Saint Gregory the Great Parish in our hometown of Majayjay, Laguna.

His songs continue to move me whenever they are sung in liturgies, now that I am in my late 30s. My heart jumps, I tell you, whenever I hear the first notes of his Ama Namin, the first Catholic song I memorized as a child.

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The second reason was that the Jesuit religious order (formally known as the Society of Jesus), where Father Honti belonged for 61 years, occupies a special place in my heart. I spent 10 years in Ateneo de Manila, the top Jesuit school in the Philippines, and got exposed to the Jesuits and their spirituality. (Yes, they tried to “invite” me, but that’s another story.)

“Finding God in all things,” as Jesuits say, is a huge part of who I am and why I do religion reporting. 

Father Honti is a symbol of many things I cherish.

Born in Molo, Iloilo City, on December 20, 1923, Father Honti was one of eight children of Jose Hontiveros and Vicenta Pardo, according to a profile published by the Philippine Jesuits. He is part of the prominent Hontiveros clan of the Visayas, whose members include Senator Risa Hontiveros, broadcast journalist Pia Hontiveros, and aviation industry pioneer Maan Hontiveros.

Educated at Fordham University in New York and the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome, he was a man of great theological knowledge. He was once rector of San Jose Seminary and dean of the Loyola School of Theology based in Ateneo de Manila, which was also his alma mater. 

Unlike other intellectuals, however, Father Honti did not stay “up there.”

Through his songs, the Jesuit musician bridged the gap between high theology and a people’s faith. 

We have to understand that when Father Honti started composing his hymns in the 1960s, Filipino Mass songs were not as “normal” as they are today. 

For centuries, the language used at Mass — and in liturgical hymns — was only Latin, the official language of the Catholic Church. It was only after the Second Vatican Council or Vatican II, a historic gathering of bishops in Rome from 1962 to 1965, that the Catholic Church allowed the use of the vernacular in its liturgies. 

Father Emmanuel “Nono” Alfonso, executive director of Jesuit Communications, said it was “revolutionary” for Father Honti to write hundreds of Mass songs in Filipin in the 1960s.

“With this innovation, Hontiveros, as it were, allowed Filipinos to sing to God in their own tongue,” Alfonso said in a booklet prepared for the October 12 concert. 

“As one eminent theologian quipped, he had been teaching theology in universities and seminaries, but Hontiveros had spread the Word of God through his music much more effectively and efficiently than any theologian coud ever do in his lifetime,” he added.

Alfonso shared an insight from a seminarian in the 1970s who helped Hontiveros in training choirs to sing his songs. That seminarian is now one of the eminent figures in the global Catholic Church: Cardinal Luis Antonio “Chito” Tagle, pro-prefect of the Vatican’s Dicastery for Evangelization, the highest-ranking Filipino churchman in history. 

“Cardinal Chito Tagle shares why Honti’s music became an instant hit in the Church. Honti, he said, really targeted the masa, the ordinary folks. He did this by writing the lyrics in plain language and, more importantly, by arranging the music so that they are easily sung,” the head of Jesuit Communications wrote.

“Honti would experiment his songs with choirs in nearby poor parishes and adjusted them as needed so that they were ‘singable,’” said Alfonso. “Like a real pastor then, Hontiveros had one aim: to empower the Filipino people through his music.”

An article in the concert booklet, “Father Eddie Hontiveros, SJ: A Man of God, of the Church, and of Music,” recounted how Father Honti prioritized the people’s needs.

“During rehearsals, whenever the choir could not reach the notes, Honti would rewrite his songs right on the spot, and without hesitation. He was, after all, writing for untrained voices, children of factory workers at UTEX, the largest textile mille in the Philippines at that time. For him, spreading the Word of God always comes first,” the article said.

That’s why his songs are always so easy to sing.

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His 2008 obituary by the Philippine Jesuits said, “Today it is a testament to Father Honti’s pioneering spirit that so many styles of church music are sung in our Masses and other gatherings.”

“The choices can seem quite daunting, and it is never easy to select songs that various generations of churchgoers can follow, but play the opening notes of Father Honti’s Pananagutan, or intone his Luwalhati, Santo, Kordero ng Diyos, or Magnificat, and everyone can join in. That is the surest way to show that while his name may not ring a bell, his music does,” the obituary added.

I am reminded of Father Honti as I read comments on my recent article about the strict dress code at the 16th-century Basilica Minore del Santo Niño de Cebu, the oldest Catholic church in the Philippines.

I wrote that article, coincidentally, the morning after the Father Honti concert in Ateneo. 

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[The Wide Shot] From Cebu’s Basilica Minore to Julie Anne San Jose

Days after it was published, a number of Catholics went ad hominem in their attacks against me, calling me “Paterno the Pharisee” and addressing me as “Paterno, you Ateneo-spawned trash.” One of them gave me a good laugh, though, when a person said that this column, “The Wide Shot,” should be renamed “Widely Out of Touch.”

One of their common arguments is that the dress code at Cebu’s Basilica Minore is not discriminatory, and is only proper in a place of worship.

If you cannot follow the dress code, they add, then you should not go to church.

Oh. 

Is this the way of a missionary church?

Cebu’s Basilica Minore should learn from Jesuit musician Eduardo Hontiveros, whose priority was to reach out to people, not to force them to reach the highest of notes.

I am not against any dress code. But I question the way it is implemented in Cebu. 

Why should the church prohibit violators from entering and give them no alternatives? Can the church not hand shawls to women in sleeveless dresses? Can it not lend shoes to those in slippers? Can it not allow them to enter the church but only up to a certain portion, perhaps in a secluded area where they can pray without mixing with those who follow the dress code?

Where is the middle ground?

In this whole dress code debate, people have often compared the Church to Malacañang or any kind of office: would anyone dress poorly in such an important place?

I think they forget that the Church, more than anything else, is a home. It is actually called Mother. 

Will a mother bar a child from entering their home because of poor clothing? Sorry na lang, you have to stay outside because you wore the wrong clothes? A mother will admonish a child to dress properly next time, but will never deny entry. A mother will find a way.

It is lost on many people that these dress code violators do not want to just “visit a church” per se, as if it were any other government building or private office. They want to talk to God. 

Talk. To. God.

How can friars ban people from entering God’s house?

Can the Basilica Minore adjust its dress code, in the same way that Father Honti adjusted his musical notes to include more of God’s people?

We are thankful for the example of Father Honti who, through the power of music, has allowed Filipinos to enter the heart of the Catholic Church. A true member of the Society of Jesus like Pope Francis, he showed us how the Church, in classic Jesuit parlance, can “meet people where they are.”

This, after all, is the first duty of the Mother: let the children enter. – Rappler.com