On godparents and quiet guidance

Growing up as the son of a Maranao Muslim father and a Catholic mother but who later embraced Islam, my experience with kinship and faith is uniquely layered. 

Raised primarily by my mother’s family in Manila, I continue to yearn to embrace the culture and practices of my father’s heritage. This duality colors my understanding of godparents — a cherished Filipino tradition that transcends mere ceremony. Godparents are considered second parents.

My parents chose three godfathers for me at a time when each was pursuing monumental ambitions: one was a respected professor, another became a senator, governor, and Cabinet member, and the third, a senior government official who led the first Filipino expedition to the world’s highest peak and retraced the ancient Balangay route. These achievements came when I was in my teens. But long before each reached their peak, I witnessed their struggles and relentless determination.

An occasion that would forever be etched in my memory was my Muslim wedding. My father could not attend, but all three godfathers were present, offering moral support and ensuring that I wasn’t alone — a rare moment when they were together. 

Their presence underscored the true purpose of godparents: to guide, support, and protect, not to spoil or extract favors.

My professor godfather (he passed away ahead of my father) was a familiar presence in our home. He and my father perpetually engaged in deep discussions, sparking ideas that shaped my father’s journey. I remember being asked to go to the neighborhood store to buy him a few bottles of beer — his “fuel for thought.” At the time, it felt more like an obligation than an amusement, but looking back those errands offered quiet moments where I absorbed neighborhood rhythms I hoped to write about someday. 

Despite the setting, I never picked up the habit of drinking — something Islam does not permit. Even then, I quietly knew where I stood.

My second godfather’s achievements were for the books. Recently, I sought his counsel while facing personal challenges — that I can only describe as the demons and harsh realities of the world. He offered honest advice and encouragement to soldier on, giving me one of the most reassuring moments I have ever received. That latest encounter affirmed my parents’ trust in him.

My third godfather’s presence has been constant, felt from my earliest memories to just weeks ago. Generosity is an understatement when describing him. My parents told me that the very milk formula I drank as a baby was courtesy of him. Now in his senior years, his energy and discipline rival many half his age, echoing my father’s beliefs about health and public service. His accomplishments as a senior government official/leader stand as a testament to what it means to serve with integrity and dedication.

These men were real pillars of support, living proof of what godparents should be. It is not about spoiling godchildren or gaining favors but about guidance, protection, and love — values I have endeavored to pass on to my own children through the godparents I chose for them. 

I owe a debt of gratitude to my godparents. Their presence shaped my journey in ways words can hardly express. This tradition is deeply Filipino and its meaning transcends cultural boundaries — a reminder that kinship and chosen family carry profound responsibility and love.