Religious icons and bells
Right from the first day when the conquering unit of Don Jose Oyanguren set foot at the Santa Ana waterfront (which half a century later became Davao’s first port), the symbolism and importance of religious icons or images were already aligned with historicity.
Many of the settlements organized by the missionaries, as a result, carried the holy nomenclatures, and Christian names given to converts were taken from the calendar of saints. Next to these, bells were the second most sought after church ornament.
Fr. Juan B. Llopart, a Jesuit, in his letter dated Jan. 2, 1896, noted that up to the last years of Spanish rule in Davao Oriental, the demand for images and bells continued. He particular thanked the Mission Superior of the icons delivered to the settlements of La Guia (Dauan, Mati City) and Montserrat (a barangay of Gov. Generoso, Davao Oriental).
The statue of the Our Lady of Pillar, Montserrat’s patron saint, was brought to the small peninsula given its proximity to Sigaboy while the other was sent to Mati where it was paired with a bell. Earlier, another image, a statue of San Alfonso, was also delivered to Macambol, also in Mati. Requests for the images of Saint John (the apostle). Our Lady of the Assumption, and Saint Francis Xavier (assigned to Fr. Saturnino Urios, SJ, to deliver) were also mentioned.
As for bells, orders were received from San Juan, Monserrat, Nazareth, and Luzon.
The newfound interested led by the Church after the 1895 drought, triggered the revival of the abandoned settlements “with so many deaths from the famine.” Many of the settlers wanted to return to the reductions. But this new progress alarmed the Moros of Mati who, in November 1895, revolted:
“Disgusted that some of their group had ben resettled and baptized,” Fr. Llopart wrote, “a small group of unbaptized Moros, escapees and for some time now living in the mountain of Mayo Bay and Bagman River bordering this and the Caraga mission, rose in arms. A few of them tried to enlist the Mandayas from the nearby mountains, and won over a fair number from the Tarragona sector. Those from Mayo Bay and the mountains of Mati refused to be involved; much less enthusiastic were the resettled Moros of Mayo, and those of Sumlug (i.e. Lupon), where the unbaptized Moro Masla, one of the most determined to fight, had gone.”
The whole cabal, though, did not prosper because some of the baptized Moros stood by their voluntarily conversion. The plot finally reached the authorities through Datu Oringaron (a corruption of Oyanguren) that even the Mandayas recruited to join the uprising dispersed after nobody showed up to reinforce while they were dying from hunger.
Back to the bells, these were multifunctional instruments of acculturation that deeply shaped how Catholicism was introduced, spread, and embedded in the daily lives of people. In communities without clocks, church bells became the public clock. They regulated waking, working, resting, and sleeping hours and imposed a rhythm on society aligned with Catholic practices.
Bells were rung to mark important liturgical seasons, reminding people of Catholic teachings through sound. For sacraments like baptism or marriage, special peals announced their performance, spreading awareness of religious rites to the broader community. The audible reach of the bell defined the boundaries of the Christianized community.
Bells carried symbolic weight; they were believed to ward off evil spirits, storms, and even plagues when rung at certain times. They also marked the start of fiestas, novenas, and processions. The festive ringing became a cultural signal that bound people together under shared celebrations of saints and Catholic identity. In short, the bells did not just call people; they formed people. They conditioned the rhythm of daily life, extended the Church’s authority into the social and spatial order, and created a sound environment where Catholicism was inescapably present.
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