In our family, Jose and its variations rank among the most common names. Nicknames come in handy to lessen confusion. My father Jose was known as Pepe. My youngest brother is little Pepe, or Pepito but we call him Pepot. My mom’s brother Joseph is Uncle Jose and his grandson Baby Joe. Mama’s brother-in-law is Uncle Joe while her aunt is Lola Pepang. Papa’s uncle is Lolo Peping, and his cousin is Uncle Bobot. A nephew named Joseph Christopher (after grandfathers Jose and Crisostomo) is called Jake. There are cousins named Joel, Jojo, and Joey.
Why so many? The likeliest reason is that parents name their children after Saint Joseph. His feast is on March 19th in the Roman Catholic calendar. I scoured our family tree and yielded no March birthdays for those named Jose, or the female counterpart Josefina/Josephine and their derivatives.
Maybe parents named their children Joseph anyway, to honor Jesus’ father on earth. This would match the honor accorded his mother, as Mary, Maria, or Marie is added to many girls’ given names.
Update: Upon reading this post on Facebook, my aunt recalled why my grandmother named her brother.
"Your Mama Ching told me that an old woman advised them to name their first surviving baby Jose if it’s a boy and Maria if it’s a girl."
My grandmother had already lost two children, Rodolfo and Francing, in early infancy. She asked St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things and mothers, to intercede.
My father was the first surviving child, and Mama Ching's devotion to him was always equated with the strength of an answered prayer. She was blessed with eight more children.
It is possible that parents would like to express admiration for the Philippine National Hero, Jose Rizal.
Historian Gregorio Zaide’s book Jose Rizal: Life, Works, and Writings (1957) became the basis of History VIIa, a required course on Rizal’s life when I was in college. It extolled his attributes and multiple professions from an artist to a zoologist. Uncle Joe taught this subject at the university, and his engineering students said he spoke of Rizal as if they were intimate friends. He knew every detail about him and could recite his works from memory.
On the other side of the campus, my history teacher was not a Rizalista. He opened my eyes to the long-standing debate about Rizal’s role in the revolution against Spain. Was he merely a patriot and not a revolutionary like Andres Bonifacio, who took up arms against the Spanish? Should Bonifacio share the status of National Hero with Rizal, who advocated for patience and moderation?
In our family, Rizal is revered. My grandfather, Lolo Abdon, was a teacher and his first assignment in the 1920s was in the province of Rizal. Lola Andang gave birth to their first child named her Blandina.
“Oh no, we must change it to Rizalina,” Lolo insisted when he went home for a visit. He nicknamed their daughter Zaling.
Auntie Zaling had three daughters, the youngest one was born on December 30th, the anniversary of Jose Rizal’s execution by the Spanish in Bagumbayan in 1896. Of course, she had to be Rizalina, although we call her Manang Bebot.
Lola Andang was the greatest Rizal fan. Into her last days, she could recite all fourteen stanzas of Mi Ultimo Adios, the poem Rizal wrote on the eve of his martyrdom. She delivered the lines in Spanish and English during our family Christmas programs.
In 1956, the Philippine government passed the Republic Act No. 1425, also known as the Rizal Law.
Section 1. Courses on the life, works and writings of Jose Rizal, particularly his novel Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, shall be included in the curricula of all schools, colleges and universities, public or private: Provided, That in the collegiate courses, the original or unexpurgated editions of the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo of their English translation shall be used as basic texts.
The Catholic Church opposed this law, for the novels depicted the Spanish friars in an unfavorable light. Yet the law moved along, and generations of students study Rizal’s works to the present day. The country honors his birthday on June 19th and his martyrdom on December 30th every year. His execution day is so revered that even cockfighting is declared illegal and punishable by fines and a one-month suspension for public officials.
Soon after the law passed, some Catholic schools banned Rizal’s works. Here’s an excerpt from Behind the Walls of St. Scholastica's College, a collection of remembrances from students:
We were free to read anything except a few books which were banned because either the nuns or the Board of Censors considered them too erotic (e.g., D. H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover) or too subversive (e.g., Rizal’s Noli and Fili).
Herminia Meñez Coben
My fifteen-year-old uninformed self would have been glad to have Noli me Tangere and El Filibusterismo banned. They were required texts in Pilipino literature class, my least favorite subject and language in which I was least proficient. I did not appreciate the novels until I read the English translation by Maria Soledad Lacson-Locsin many years later.
A Philippine Daily inquirer writer described my dilemma:
The first irony for me personally is that I first studied the “Noli” and “Fili” in high school in my Filipino class, but read it in English since I read faster that way. Just imagine: The masterpieces by the national hero, written in Spanish, read in English and taught in Filipino—and all this to promote Filipino nationalism.
Raul Pangalangan
Philippine Daily Inquirer, 12/31/2010
Noli me Tangere comes from the Latin “Do not touch me.” It was Jesus’ command to Mary Magdalene after rising from the dead. Noli me tangere could also be a form of cancer of the eyelid and may stem from Rizal’s practice as an ophthalmologist. Both may ascribe to the people’s sufferings, a topic so painful that it cannot be touched.
In Noli, Crisostomo Ibarra was a handsome, cultured gentleman engaged to the beautiful Maria Clara. In Fili, he took the guise of Simoun, a dark, sinister man seeking vengeance for the injustices the friars had committed against his family. His secret activities culminated in a plot for a violent revolution.
I was glad when translations of Noli and Fili by Leon Ma. Guerrero became available on Audible in 2021. I acquired a greater understanding of the Philippines under Spanish colonization. I loved the accessibility but wished the narration was done by someone who knew the correct Filipino or Spanish pronunciations.
No matter what people think of Jose Rizal, his impact on Filipino life has made its mark. A quote attributed to him speaks to all of us:
Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan.
"Those who do not look back to where they came from will never reach their destination."
Recommended Reading:
Why Filipino names are quirky, expressive and rich with culture and history
Legislating Rizal, 1 by GEMMA CRUZ ARANETA
Rizal Law, Republic Act No. 1425
The intense debate on the Rizal Law, Philippine Daily Inquirer
The Church under attack, May 5, 1956, THE PHILIPPINES FREE PRESS ONLINE
Cockfighting prohibited on Rizal Day - Malacañang
From Cecilia Manguerra Brainard’s Blog:
Behind the Walls of St. Scholastica's College by Herminia Meñez Coben
From reading this post, my dad's sister commented: "Your Mama Ching told me that an old woman advised them to name their first surviving baby Jose if it’s a boy and Maria if it’s a girl."
My grandmother lost two children, Rodolfo and Francing, in early infancy. She prayed to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things and of mothers, for a son. Her doctor advised her to feed him formula, with an explanation "There must be something wrong with my milk."
My father was the first surviving child, and Mama Ching's devotion to him was always equated with the strength of an answered prayer.