Then 22-year-old seminary student Dionito Cabellas, known by his peers as Diony, must have heard the Hail Mary murmured by nuns at least a thousand times as human barricades consisting of religious individuals and progressives marched in the early hours of the 1986 EDSA People Power Revolution. Nuns gave flowers and bread to the tank-ridden streets of Camp Crame, and eventually, Mendiola.

Often, the church and other religious institutions’ political and social stances are not explicit. But the call of the times during Martial Law, amid continued state repression and violence, generated the impetus for the church to slant toward an overt mass-oriented role. Priests and church officials took the helm of mobilizations and joined underground movements resisting Ferdinand Marcos Sr.’s dictatorship.

On Feb. 22, 1986, Juan Ponce Enrile called on Cardinal Sin for protection against the late dictator’s state forces. After broadcasting the cardinal’s plea in Radio Veritas, Camp Crame erupted with civilian blockades. 

This was the revolutionary response of the church during EDSA, now 60-year-old Father Diony recalls. This radical shift is part of a broader move of religious institutions to situate their faith in the context of the people’s struggle. 

The intersection of faith and activism exists in a continuing tradition of militant priests and other religious officials, lasting almost four decades ago, along the embattled roads of EDSA. Armed with progressive views, their struggle is remembered and continued throughout each commemoration.

To Father Diony, part of the priesthood is participating in sectoral struggles. The Iglesia Filipina Independiente (IFI) priest has organized farmers, analyzed theology through Marxist lenses, and retained the progressive thrust of religious institutions during EDSA.

During the first EDSA Revolution 39 years ago, Father Dionito Cabellas, along with other seminarists, joined progressive groups that marched along the stretch of Mendiola. (Alex Lauricio/Philippine Collegian)

His affinity toward farmers’ struggles traces its roots in the palay fields of Misamis Occidental, where he was born to a community of farmers and fisherfolk. His mother was a churchgoer, while he helped his father in tending the fields. Lacking funds, he was forced to become a janitor while balancing his academics during high school.

In his predominantly English-speaking school, his barrio roots did not mix as smoothly with his peers. He eyed scholarship opportunities in his fourth year of high school and landed a spot in a state university. His friends at church suggested he study in a seminary instead, but Diony was hesitant due to his family’s financial constraints.

“Ang opportunity sa seminaryo, pag nakapasa ka, maraming magka-interest na mga member na baka gustong tumulong, magbigay. Chances are, makakatapos ka,” Diony recalled.  Eventually, Father Diony was convinced, and after months, he arrived in Manila after a three-day boat ride from Mindanao. His hands were still covered in charcoal marks from burning coconut husks he sold to buy his boat ferry ticket. He entered Saint Andrew's Theological Seminary, where he would stay for six years. He graduated in 1987.

Father Diony’s time in the seminary coincided with the steady rise of civil unrest during the 1980s, around a decade after the late dictator declared martial law. The empty streets were ridden with state violence, forced kidnappings, and police brutality, especially after the assassination of Benigno Aquino Jr.

But Father Diony political awakening would not happen until the 1981 elections. In order to legitimize his rule with the rest of the world, Marcos Sr. conducted staged elections, disguising his authoritarian grip as democratic. Growing civil unrest erupted after progressive groups exposed that the elections were staged. “Nag-umpisa akong magtanong, bakit may ganito?” he said.

Since then, the mass struggle has become an integral part of Father Diony’s faith and theology. He was a vocal critic of the administration, and in the week leading to the 1986 EDSA Revolution, some professors in the seminary would not allow them to join protests, but Father Diony would disregard those orders, despite the fact that he depended on the seminary for his accommodation and basic needs.

Militant seminarists, however, were still red-tagged in some seminaries. Conservative professors would post images of seminarists attending rallies on their bulletin boards. Father Diony’s himself was there, pictured in a mobilization by the Malate Church in the week of EDSA. In response, he would cover them up with reports of military abuses and disappearances, as the bulletin board became the seminary’s silent battleground between progressive and conservative seminarists.

There was a strong divide among religious officials on how to respond to the call of the times. But as the incidence of state violence grew, many priests joined the ranks of the masses. 

The crowds, upon seeing a column of nuns and seminarists armed with nothing but rosaries, would erupt with applause, said Father Diony. Religious institutions, and their denominal offshoots, became important staging grounds for organization as progressive ministers mobilized into the streets. 

“Nauunawaan namin na yung theology ay dapat nakaugat sa buhay at pamumuhay ng mga tao,” said Father Diony.

The roots of a mass-oriented ideology among religious officials were based on the ideas of the late Gustavo Gutiérrez, a vocal proponent of liberation theology. By using the social analyses of progressive groups, religious ministers like Father Diony deployed his faith to the call of the times. 

But Catholics were not the only ones who joined the ranks of militants. Moros have long suffered several acts of state violence, including the Jabidah Massacre. In the early hours of Sept. 22, 1974, soldiers razed Palimbang in Mindanao and tortured the survivors. This came after Moro men, ordered to train in secret by Marcos Sr., mutinied after finding out the purpose of their training was to kill their fellows in Sabah.

The massacre, alongside other instances of state violence, pushed many militants to join armed movements, prominently the Moro National Liberation Front. Muslim students protested from mosques to the streets of Mendiola, joining Protestants and other Christian denominations.

Other religious officials, long before the EDSA Revolution, weaved militancy and faith together. In 1972, the Christians for National Liberation was formed as a response to the social realities that the lay faithful faced. It aimed to unite revolutionary Christians under one banner and still continues until today.

Nowadays, Father Diony remains a vocal and staunch critic of the administration and often appears in prayer rallies during commemorative events. His parish in Katipunan continues to offer refuge for revolutionary Christians and those in need alike.

This Aglipayan church, nested between residential homes in Katipunan Avenue, was designed to accommodate Aglipayans who were studying in UP. (Alex Lauricio/Philippine Collegian)

“Naniniwala ako na may Diyos na mapagpalaya,” Father Dyoni said. In a predominantly religious country, faith continues to be a core aspect of Filipinos, and the need for contemporary analyses of doctrines arises as an imperative for religious institutions to adapt to more turbulent times. Other denominations, like the IFI, do this by incorporating feminist and Marxist lenses in their study.

Religion will always carve its space in the masses that seek its moral guidance. As religious institutions continue to align themselves with the needs of the masses, more religious progressives will along the streets of EDSA year after year, realizing that their militant values have an established space within their institutions.  ●