Introduction: Rizal and the Filipino Soul’s Awakening
For generations, Filipinos have looked to José Rizal not only as a national hero but as a moral compass, a visionary who saw beyond his time. We admire his intelligence, his love of country, and his courage to stand against tyranny. But beneath his eloquent prose and principled stand lies something deeper—an inner light, a spiritual force rooted not in religious dogma, but in reason, nature, and the sacredness of truth.
This book invites readers to discover a different dimension of José Rizal—the spiritual Rizal, the rational believer, the proto-Deist whose view of the Divine was shaped more by conscience than creed, more by observation than orthodoxy. He did not reject God; rather, he rejected the misrepresentations of God perpetuated by a corrupt religious establishment.
In a time when religion was used to control and silence, Rizal dared to think, to question, to seek. He saw the Creator not in gilded altars or fearsome sermons, but in the beauty of the natural world, the dignity of every human soul, and the order and wonder of the universe. He did not kneel blindly; he stood with clarity, reverence, and courage.
This is not a work of theology, nor a rewriting of Rizal’s legacy—it is a spiritual reflection grounded in his writings, his worldview, and his quiet but radical faith in reason and justice. It is Deism in a Filipino voice: humble, poetic, defiant, and deeply human.
In today’s world, many Filipinos are awakening from centuries of inherited belief systems. Some are leaving organized religion but still seek connection to something greater. Others hunger for a moral life rooted in reason and compassion, not threats of punishment or empty ritual. This is where Rizal becomes profoundly relevant.
His life becomes more than a historical memory—it becomes a spiritual mirror.
Through these pages, may you see not just a hero of the past, but a guide for our time. May Rizal’s spirit awaken the sacred light already within you. And may this journey lead you to a faith that is free, intelligent, and fully alive.
Chapter 1: The Greatest of the Malay Race
“He is the pride of his people, the greatest of the Malay race.”
History, when viewed with spiritual eyes, becomes more than the study of dates and empires. It becomes the unfolding of human dignity. In this sacred unfolding, certain lives emerge as luminous beacons, casting light not just on their own people, but on the hidden worth of entire civilizations. One such life is that of José Protacio Rizal, a man who rose from the colonized soil of the Philippines to become, in the words of many, “the greatest of the Malay race.”
This is no small title. It is a statement not only of reverence, but of restoration. For centuries, the Malay peoples—whose lineage spans the tropical belt of Southeast Asia—were degraded by imperialist ideology. Their rich cultures were dismissed as primitive, their faiths ridiculed, their intelligence questioned. The colonizer’s gaze saw only bodies for labor and minds to be ruled. But in the person of Rizal, the lie of inferiority was shattered. He stood as irrefutable evidence that genius, morality, and universal consciousness could emerge not from Europe’s palaces, but from the humble towns of the archipelago.
Rizal’s greatness lay not in violent revolution, but in enlightened rebellion—a rebellion not of arms, but of ideas. He confronted tyranny with intellect. He fought dogma with reason. He stood not on battlefields, but at podiums, writing desks, and surgical tables. He pierced through centuries of oppression by revealing the mind’s power to liberate, and the conscience’s power to transform.
To call him “the pride of the Malay race” is to honor him, yes—but more than that, it is to affirm the divine worth of an entire race of people, too long told they were nothing. Rizal was a vindication. A human declaration that the Filipino, and by extension the broader Malayan, was capable not only of civilization—but of moral and intellectual greatness.
A Soul of Many Facets
Rizal was a polymath—a man whose brilliance shone in many directions. He was a poet and a patriot, a physician and philosopher, an artist and linguist, a reformist and spiritual seeker. His mastery of multiple disciplines—medicine, anthropology, history, agriculture, the arts—was not merely for show. Each pursuit was an expression of his belief in human potential, and each was driven by a deep spiritual longing for truth.
But his greatness went deeper still. It was not only what he knew, but how he lived. Rizal bore suffering with grace. He chose exile over surrender, death over silence. He loved his people, but more than that, he loved truth—and refused to betray it even under threat of execution.
In this sense, he was a martyr not only for country, but for human dignity.
The Spirit of Enlightenment
What gave Rizal this moral clarity? Some have said it was his European education. Others cite his travels and exposure to liberal thought. These shaped him, yes—but they do not explain him fully. Rizal was not a mere imitator of Western ideals. He was a seer—someone who intuited the moral laws of the universe, like the great Deists of the Enlightenment.
He believed in a Supreme Being, not as a tribal god of vengeance, but as the Divine Intelligence behind the cosmos. He spoke of God as Truth and Love, as the source of all that is just and good. He rejected superstition, religious tyranny, and blind rituals. And he urged his fellow Filipinos to seek God not in fear or submission, but in the cultivation of reason, virtue, and brotherhood.
In this, Rizal was not only a revolutionary. He was a spiritual reformer.
A Voice for the Voiceless
While others called for violent revolution, Rizal envisioned something more radical: a revolution of consciousness. In Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, he exposed the injustices committed in the name of God and empire. He unmasked the hypocrisy of friars who preached salvation while practicing oppression. He critiqued the cowardice of his own people who had resigned themselves to servitude.
But he never spoke from hatred. His criticism was surgical—cutting, but always directed toward healing. His novels were written not to destroy, but to awaken.
Rizal’s hope was for an educated citizenry, capable of thinking for itself. He saw the Indio not as a slave, but as a future statesman, artist, scientist, and philosopher. His greatest dream was not independence alone, but a nation of noble souls.
A Hero Beyond Borders
Though we often call him the national hero of the Philippines, Rizal was more than a nationalist. He was a man of the world. He saw the interconnectedness of peoples, the shared dignity of all races, and the importance of freedom as a universal human right.
His travels brought him into contact with fellow reformers and thinkers from Europe, Asia, and the Americas. He learned their languages, respected their customs, and saw in them the same spark of divinity that he knew lived within himself. To Rizal, race was not a hierarchy, but a family.
This is why he continues to speak to modern humanity. In an age of racism, extremism, and cultural arrogance, Rizal stands as a voice of reconciliation—reminding us that true greatness lies in wisdom, not war; in compassion, not conquest.
The Enlightened Malay
Rizal was, in many ways, the first fully modern Malayan—and yet, he was also deeply rooted in his people’s ancestral soul. He honored the indigenous spirit of his homeland while drawing from the best of human civilization. In him, there was no shame in being brown-skinned, no inferiority in speaking Tagalog, no contradiction between being Filipino and being human.
He was not a man torn between East and West, but a bridge between them.
As the Greatest of the Malay Race, he gives the entire region a model of noble identity: one that affirms indigenous dignity while embracing universal values. For Filipinos, Indonesians, Malaysians, and beyond, Rizal is a symbol of what the Malay soul can become—not a colonial subject, but a philosopher; not a victim of empire, but a prophet of the future.
A Light for Our Time
Today, as we face spiritual confusion, political corruption, and moral fatigue, Rizal’s light still burns. His words, his life, his death—they call us to awaken. To reject both tyranny and apathy. To rediscover the sacred in reason. To rise from the ashes of despair with clarity, courage, and compassion.
He belongs to no single religion, yet speaks to all. He bowed to no master, yet humbled himself before truth. He died for his country, yes—but he lived for the world.
In the pages that follow, we will walk with him—through the corridors of his thought, the valleys of his suffering, and the mountaintops of his vision. We will see not only the martyrdom of a man, but the resurrection of a people.
And we begin here—with this truth:
José Rizal was, and remains, the greatest of the Malay race.
Chapter 2: A Young Mind in Search of Truth
In the quiet town of Calamba, surrounded by rice fields, rivers, and the serene presence of Mount Makiling, a boy was born whose eyes would one day see far beyond the walls of empire and the pews of the parish. From his earliest days, José Rizal was immersed in two worlds: one of deep religious tradition, and another of curiosity, nature, and reason. It would be the tension between these worlds that would shape his soul.
Raised in a devout Catholic household, young Pepe was no stranger to religious instruction. He learned prayers, attended mass, and was taught by his mother Teodora—herself a well-read and intelligent woman—to revere God. But even in childhood, Rizal began to question the contradictions he saw around him: why did the God preached in love also inspire so much fear? Why did religious men, clothed in holiness, often act with cruelty and injustice?
As a child, he would retreat into the family’s library or wander alone into nature. Trees, rivers, and stars became his quiet companions. In these moments of solitude, he did not feel the wrath of God, but the calm of something sacred and infinite. His young heart sensed that the divine was not confined to cathedrals or sermons—it was present in the order of the universe, in the logic of life, and in the mystery of beauty.
Even then, Rizal was not content to accept truth handed to him without reflection. In his autobiography, Memorias de un Estudiante de Manila, he hints at the “mental storms” he experienced as a youth. These were not the doubts of a rebellious spirit, but the awakening of a thinking mind—a mind seeking coherence between faith and reason.
.By the time he enrolled at Ateneo Municipal de Manila in 1877, he was no longer the innocent boy who had first questioned the legitimacy of Church teachings. He was a young man whose thoughts had matured, influenced by the burgeoning intellectual movements in Europe. In his time at Ateneo, Rizal excelled academically, earning top honors, but more importantly, he began to explore ideas that would challenge the status quo.
Among the many Enlightenment texts circulating in intellectual circles during his time was The Age of Reason by Thomas Paine—a book that boldly challenged organized religion and promoted a rational understanding of God. While there is no conclusive record that Rizal personally read this particular work, the spirit of its arguments—emphasizing reason over revelation, and nature over dogma—resonates deeply with Rizal’s own evolving beliefs.
Even if Rizal did not read Paine directly, he was certainly exposed to a similar current of thought. His writings, letters, and actions reflect a philosophical kinship with Paine’s Deism. Rizal believed in a God who could be known through reason and the natural world, not through the authority of clergy or sacred texts. He came to view the universe as governed by rational laws rather than by the whims of an anthropomorphic deity, echoing the rational spirituality that Enlightenment thinkers championed.
In a letter to his friend, Ferdinand Blumentritt, Rizal once wrote, “I believe in God, the God of nature, the God who has made Himself known to me through the wonders of creation, who speaks to me not through the voice of priests, but through the mountains, the stars, and the oceans.” This profound statement captures the core of his Deistic inclination. Whether or not he had read The Age of Reason, Rizal clearly stood within the tradition it represented—a tradition that challenged tyranny and superstition with the light of reason and a reverence for the natural order.
This belief in a rational and naturalistic God would become a cornerstone of Rizal’s worldview. His God was not the vengeful, punishing deity of the Church, but a force for good that was reflected in the beauty and order of the natural world. For Rizal, the true path to understanding the divine lay not in dogmatic religious practices but in the exercise of reason, the exploration of nature, and the pursuit of knowledge.
Even in the face of the intense religious opposition that would eventually characterize much of his life, Rizal’s commitment to a rational spirituality remained steadfast. He recognized that religion, in its purest form, was meant to elevate the human spirit, not bind it to superstitions or fear. His evolving belief system did not diminish his sense of morality; rather, it gave him a framework for understanding the universe that was grounded in justice, compassion, and reason.
Rizal’s spiritual journey was one of quiet defiance—against the religious authorities who sought to control his people, and against a faith that had been twisted into a tool of oppression. Through his reflections on nature, his studies of philosophy, and his embrace of reason, Rizal forged a belief system that was uniquely his own—one that would later inspire generations of Filipinos to seek a path of intellectual and spiritual freedom.
This was the beginning of José Rizal’s spiritual awakening. It was the beginning of his journey from the confines of traditional faith to the broad horizon of a rational, Deistic understanding of the world. And in this journey, he was not only transforming himself but also lighting a path for others to follow.
Chapter 3: The Enlightenment Reaches the Islands
The Enlightenment, that radiant dawn of human thought in Europe, may have seemed like a distant storm to the colonized islands of the Philippines. Yet its thunder echoed across oceans and mountains, shaking even the most isolated corners of the Spanish Empire. In time, it would ignite the soul of a young Filipino who would become its brightest flame—José Rizal.
Born in 1861, Rizal arrived on the scene nearly a century after the Enlightenment had begun reshaping Europe. By then, the core ideas of the movement had already seeped into academic circles, liberal salons, and underground literature across the globe. The Age of Reason, fueled by thinkers such as Voltaire, Rousseau, Locke, Kant, and Paine, had championed the power of human reason, individual liberty, and a moral universe governed not by ecclesiastical decree, but by natural law.
Spain, despite its conservative and Catholic character, could not entirely hold back these new ideas. And in its colony, the Philippines, educated Filipinos began to access books and conversations that would challenge the prevailing theocratic structure. By the 19th century, Manila’s academic institutions—particularly the University of Santo Tomas—were paradoxically both bastions of orthodoxy and hidden gateways to intellectual curiosity.
Seeds of Reason in the Archipelago
Though the Spanish friars fiercely guarded religious orthodoxy, they could not completely suppress the arrival of revolutionary thought. Enlightenment ideas came aboard galleons and in the minds of European travelers, merchants, and mestizos who had studied abroad. Freemasonry, a movement heavily influenced by Enlightenment Deism, had also made quiet inroads into Filipino society. Some Spanish officials and Filipino ilustrados—especially those exposed to liberal movements in Spain, France, or Germany—began to form secret lodges and reading circles.
Books were banned, but censorship was porous. Smuggled copies of Voltaire’s Candide, Rousseau’s Social Contract, and yes, even Paine’s The Age of Reason, passed from hand to hand like whispered truth. These texts questioned absolute monarchy, clerical power, and the need for blind faith. They proposed that morality could exist without church dogma, and that freedom was the natural condition of man.
It was into this ferment of ideas and contradictions that José Rizal stepped. Though born in a deeply Catholic household, he was also raised in an environment that valued education, critical thought, and intellectual discipline. His brother Paciano—himself a reformist and friend of martyred secular priest Padre José Burgos—introduced young José to liberal and secular ideas early on. The injustice of the 1872 Cavite Mutiny and the execution of Gomburza left a permanent imprint on Rizal’s soul. He would later dedicate El Filibusterismo to their memory.
Rizal and the Rational Awakening
When Rizal traveled to Europe in the 1880s, he entered the very heart of Enlightenment culture. In Madrid, Paris, and Heidelberg, he breathed in the air of rationalism and liberty. He walked in the same cities where revolutionaries and reformers had once defied kings and popes. It was here, far from home, that he began to see the full picture: the oppression he had witnessed in the Philippines was not merely local mismanagement—it was systemic, tied to an outdated view of man, God, and government.
Though we cannot say with certainty that Rizal read Paine’s The Age of Reason, the parallels between their views are unmistakable. Like Paine, Rizal saw organized religion not as a beacon of morality, but as a source of fear, manipulation, and stagnation. Like Voltaire, he believed that superstition must yield to science. Like Rousseau, he believed that government should be rooted in the will and dignity of the people.
Rizal began writing with renewed purpose. In Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, he painted vivid pictures of a society shackled by clerical power, but yearning to breathe free. Through characters like Ibarra and Simoun, he voiced the frustration of a thinking man trapped in a system that condemned questioning. These novels, while nationalist at heart, were also philosophical manifestos—pleas for rationality, for freedom of conscience, for a spirituality that was true to human dignity.
He no longer saw faith as submission to ecclesiastical authority. He saw it as awe before the grandeur of the universe, and morality as rooted in reason and justice—not in fear of hell or promise of heaven. In this, he was unmistakably Deist in outlook.
A Gentle Revolution of the Mind
The Enlightenment in Europe had inspired revolutions with guns and guillotines. Rizal, however, envisioned a quieter, nobler revolution—one of education, awakening, and transformation from within. He was no Paine calling for insurrection, but a builder of bridges between cultures and creeds. Still, his rejection of dogma and embrace of reason placed him squarely within the Deistic tradition.
The Philippines may not have had its Bastille, but it had its Rizal. And in him, Enlightenment ideals found not just a Filipino voice—but a uniquely spiritual and human one.
For Rizal, as for the Enlightenment thinkers before him, God was not a wrathful king in the sky, but the eternal Reason behind the laws of nature. Worship was not measured by incense and rosaries, but by how one lived—with integrity, justice, and compassion. He believed that a free man must also be a thinking man, and that a moral nation could not be built on superstition.
The Enlightenment, having reached the islands, now had an advocatein Rizal.
Chapter 4: God, Nature, and Reason: Rizal’s Deistic Vision
By the time José Rizal had completed his medical studies in Europe, his understanding of God had matured far beyond the boundaries of traditional Catholicism. He no longer accepted the image of a wrathful deity, endlessly demanding worship through rituals and sacraments. Instead, he embraced a vision of the Divine rooted in natural law, moral reason, and the quiet grandeur of the universe. For Rizal, true spirituality was not found inside church walls—it was inscribed in the stars, in the laws of science, in the longings of the human soul for justice, freedom, and truth.
Rizal never openly declared himself a Deist in the modern, Western sense. Yet his writings and actions reveal a clear affinity with Deistic thought, especially in its core convictions: belief in a Creator known through reason and nature; rejection of religious dogma and ecclesiastical authority; and a moral system based not on fear of eternal punishment but on the innate dignity of the human person.
A Creator Without Dogma
Rizal’s understanding of God was simple yet profound: God is real, but unknowable through doctrines or man-made institutions. In his essay The Indolence of the Filipino, he criticizes not only colonial mismanagement but also religious teaching that stifles independent thinking. He writes, “Man is not a brute. He is not to be ruled like an animal, but persuaded like a rational being.”
This statement reflects a Deistic principle—that humans are created rational and must seek truth not through blind obedience, but through inquiry and reflection. The God Rizal respected was not one to be flattered with rituals or bribed with prayers. This God had given man the gift of reason, and with it, the responsibility to think and live ethically.
Rizal’s letters to friends also reflect a consistent respect for a rational, naturalistic understanding of divinity. In a now-famous correspondence with Fr. Pablo Pastells, a Jesuit priest who tried to steer him back toward Catholicism, Rizal firmly but respectfully pushed back. “I believe firmly in the existence of a Creator,” he wrote, “but not in the God of the catechism.” His rejection was not of God, but of the God invented by institutions.
Nature as Sacred Scripture
Where traditional religion turned to ancient texts, Rizal turned to nature. He saw in the beauty and order of creation a reflection of divine intelligence. During his exile in Dapitan, he spent his time teaching students, collecting botanical specimens, studying astronomy, and building a small hydro-electric system. For Rizal, the natural world was not merely scenery—it was a living revelation.
This was not pantheism, nor atheism. It was reverent rationalism. He was convinced that to know the world was to glimpse the mind of its Maker. Rizal found the divine not in sacred relics or holy water, but in the intricate design of a leaf, the constancy of celestial motion, and the moral order written in the heart of man. Nature was the Deist’s temple, and science its liturgy.
Reason, Freedom, and Morality
Rizal’s greatest reverence, however, was reserved not for rituals, but for reason and ethical living. “The true measure of religion,” he once said, “is not belief, but behavior.” This sentiment echoes the Deistic conviction that religion should not divide people into sects and denominations but inspire them to become virtuous citizens and compassionate human beings.
His heroism was born of this moral clarity. Rizal refused to hate even those who persecuted him. He exposed the abuses of the friars not out of bitterness, but out of moral duty. His novels, essays, and letters are filled with appeals to conscience, justice, and liberty—appeals rooted not in theology but in universal reason.
For Rizal, education was sacred. He believed ignorance was the chief tool of tyranny, and that enlightenment—through books, dialogue, and self-reflection—was the key to liberation. It was not enough to free the body from colonial rule; one had to free the mind from superstition, and the spirit from fear. That was his revolution.
A Quiet Faith
Rizal’s Deism was not loud or polemical. It did not seek to demolish the faith of others, only to open the door to a higher, freer understanding of the Divine. He respected the sincerity of genuine faith but rejected any belief that suppressed reason or sanctioned cruelty. His God was not Catholic, Muslim, or Protestant. His God was the God of all—revealed in creation, knowable through thought, and honored through a life of love and truth.
Even in his final hours, Rizal displayed this quiet, unwavering faith. Though pressured by friars to recant and return to the Church, he remained composed, reflective, and honest. His retraction—controversial to this day—was ambiguous at best, and if it occurred at all, seems to have been more an act of diplomacy than devotion. What matters more is that Rizal faced death with dignity, without hatred, and with his reason intact.
He died as he lived—not clinging to religious certainties, but resting in the embrace of a universal, moral, and rational God.
Chapter 5: Rizal and the Problem of Organized Religion
No other institution drew more intense criticism from José Rizal than the organized religion of his time—especially the oppressive friar-dominated system in Spanish-ruled Philippines. His writings, letters, and public actions show that his conflict with the Church was not merely political or cultural—it was deeply spiritual and philosophical. Rizal did not oppose religion per se; rather, he opposed religion that enslaved the mind, manipulated conscience, and protected tyranny. For him, genuine religion must serve truth and liberty, not power and fear.
Religion as Tool of Tyranny
In Rizal’s most influential novels, Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, organized religion is portrayed as a sinister force. Father Dámaso and Father Salví are not simply bad individuals—they are symbols of a corrupted system. Rizal exposed how religious authorities used the pulpit to control people, distort history, and justify injustice. They claimed to represent God while enriching themselves and protecting a colonial regime that exploited Filipinos materially and spiritually.
Rizal saw this abuse firsthand. As a young man, he watched his own mother, Teodora Alonso, wrongfully imprisoned for months—targeted by friars. He saw how the clergy opposed modern education and free thought. He witnessed how native priests were persecuted and how the native population was kept in ignorance in the name of religious obedience.
In a letter to his friend Ferdinand Blumentritt, Rizal wrote:
“The friars hate me because I have opened the eyes of my people to their abuses. They wish to continue ruling in darkness.” This reveals Rizal’s view of the clergy—not as spiritual leaders, but as agents of colonial control hiding behind sacred vestments.
The War Against Mental Slavery
Rizal’s strongest weapon was not violence, but illumination. He sought to liberate not just the archipelago, but the Filipino soul—from fear, guilt, and blind submission. He saw how religion was used to enslave the mind: threatening hell for questioning, labeling curiosity as heresy, and painting moral courage as sin.
In El Filibusterismo, he offers a blistering critique of religious education through the character of Padre Millon and the university system that rewarded memorization but punished thinking. For Rizal, a religion that feared reason was already suspect.
He once wrote: “Fanaticism and ignorance are the enemies of liberty.”
This echoes the Deistic belief that any faith hostile to rational inquiry cannot be from God. A faith that silences conscience, denies science, and imposes submission is not a spiritual force—it is a form of despotism.
Distinguishing Between Faith and Institution
Yet Rizal was careful not to attack faith itself. His quarrel was with the institutionalization of religion—how power structures used religion as a mask. He recognized that many believers were sincere. He even had friends among the clergy. What he condemned was organized religion as an apparatus of oppression.
This is a distinctly Deistic approach. Deists historically respected personal faith and conscience but distrusted organized religion’s tendency to corrupt spirituality with politics, money, and hierarchy. Rizal shared this view. He saw how true morality was often distorted by religious institutions claiming divine authority.
In one of his essays, Rizal wrote: “A God who requires injustice to be served is not worthy of reverence. “This subtle but powerful statement reflects his belief that moral truth transcends religious dogma. No church, no priest, no council has the right to define God in a way that contradicts justice and compassion.
Toward a New Spiritual Vision
Rizal envisioned a society where religion would no longer be used to dominate minds or justify cruelty. He wanted a form of spirituality compatible with freedom, science, and ethical living. He was not calling for atheism, but for reformation—a return to the essence of religion: reverence for life, commitment to truth, and love for humanity.
During his exile in Dapitan, Rizal became the embodiment of this new spiritual ideal. He lived simply, taught freely, and practiced medicine without charge. He built schools, planted trees, and studied the stars. There were no sermons, no rituals—only service, inquiry, and peace. In Dapitan, Rizal created a kind of spiritual sanctuary, rooted not in doctrine, but in dignity and reason.
This too is a Deistic model of religion—not built around temples and ceremonies, but expressed in how we live, how we treat others, and how we seek truth. Organized religion had failed Rizal, but he still held fast to the idea of a Creator who gave humanity the tools to build a better world.
A Faith Beyond Churches
Even at the end of his life, Rizal did not surrender to the Church’s control. While debates continue about whether he retracted his criticisms, what is clear is that he never ceased to value truth, freedom, and conscience. His final poem, Mi Último Adiós, mentions God—but not in religious terms. It speaks of nature, the soul, the homeland, and eternity. It is a prayer of the heart, not of the catechism.
Thus, Rizal showed that one can honor the Divine without bowing to ecclesiastical power. He showed that reason and reverence are not enemies. He taught that true spirituality is not found in blindly following men in robes, but in seeking truth with courage, in loving one’s people, and in dying—if needed—with peace in the soul and light in the mind.
Rizal’s critique of organized religion is not just history. It remains relevant today. In a world still struggling with religious extremism, corruption, and moral compromise, his life calls us to return to the essentials: God, Nature, Reason, and the moral courage to challenge any institution that stands between humanity and truth.
Chapter 6: Rizal’s Heroes: Reasonable Faith from the Enlightenment to the Revolution
José Rizal did not stand alone in his pursuit of a rational and moral society rooted in human dignity. He drew from a rich intellectual tradition—the Enlightenment—that challenged superstition, tyranny, and ignorance. Many of his heroes were thinkers who dared to speak against religious dogma and champion reason, liberty, and natural rights. In these figures, Rizal found intellectual kindred spirits. Though oceans and centuries apart, they were united by a shared vision of humanity and a Deistic sense of the Divine—present not in dogmas, but in nature, conscience, and the unfolding of history.
The Spirit of the Enlightenment
The Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries was more than a philosophical movement; it was a spiritual awakening—an insistence that reason and freedom are sacred. Thinkers like Voltaire, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, John Locke, and Thomas Jefferson challenged the authority of kings and churches. They envisioned a world where people governed themselves with wisdom and moral clarity, not fear and blind obedience.
This was the intellectual climate that gave birth to the American and French revolutions. It also influenced the liberal reforms in Spain and Latin America, and eventually, the Propaganda Movement in the Philippines.
Though Rizal lived in the 19th century, he inherited the Enlightenment’s torch. In his library were works of these philosophers. He admired their courage to confront ecclesiastical power and their belief in a God who gave humans reason, not religion, as the guide to truth.
Thomas Jefferson and the Moral Compass of Reason
Among Rizal’s intellectual heroes, Thomas Jefferson holds special importance. A founding father of the United States, Jefferson was a Deist who believed in a Creator but rejected organized religion. He famously wrote a version of the New Testament with all miracles and supernatural claims removed—keeping only the moral teachings of Jesus.
Rizal shared this attitude. He admired Jesus not as a divine sacrifice, but as a wise moral teacher—a view clearly reflected in his novel Noli Me Tangere, particularly in the character of Elias. Elias, like Jesus, is a voice of reason and justice, unchained from religious ritual. He calls for inner reform and national redemption.
It is no coincidence that Rizal’s concept of patriotism had a moral and almost sacred dimension. Like Jefferson, he saw political freedom as inseparable from moral responsibility. To love one’s country was to fight not only for land and liberty—but for truth, integrity, and dignity.
Voltaire: Satire as a Weapon of Reason
Voltaire, the French Enlightenment writer and satirist, was another figure Rizal admired. Voltaire’s pen was sharp, fearless, and relentless in exposing the abuses of the Catholic Church. He once declared, “Écrasez l’infâme!”—crush the infamous thing—referring to the tyranny of organized religion.
Rizal echoed this spirit in his novels and essays. El Filibusterismo is filled with biting irony, sarcastic portraits of clergy, and sharp critiques of religious institutions. He used satire not to entertain, but to enlighten—a Voltairean method of truth-telling. Like Voltaire, Rizal believed that mocking the pretensions of corrupt authorities was a form of moral resistance.
In many ways, Rizal was the Filipino Voltaire—a man who used wit and wisdom as a sword against ignorance and fear.
Rousseau and the Sacredness of the Human Conscience
Jean-Jacques Rousseau taught that humans are naturally good but corrupted by society. He championed the idea of the “general will”—the collective moral conscience of a free people. He believed that religion should be personal and ethical, not ritualistic or hierarchical.
Rizal was drawn to this idea. In his letters and essays, he often appealed to the Filipino conscience. He believed in the moral capacity of the Indio, long insulted and suppressed by colonial religion. He wanted Filipinos to reclaim their moral agency, to believe that they were not born in sin, but born with dignity.
For Rizal, like Rousseau, the sacred was not found in temples but in the human heart. Conscience was the true temple of God.
Making the Enlightenment Genuinely Filipino
What makes Rizal unique is how he transformed these foreign ideas into something deeply Filipino. He was not a mere imitator of Europe. He was a translator—turning universal ideals into culturally rooted expressions. The Enlightenment, through Rizal, arrived in the Philippines not as a Western import, but as a native awakening.
Through his novels, essays, and actions, Rizal made these lofty ideas accessible to ordinary people. He did not write in Latin or French. He wrote in Spanish, Tagalog, and the language of everyday suffering. He weaved Enlightenment ideals into the story of Sisa’s madness, Elias’s sacrifice, and Ibarra’s disillusionment.
Rizal showed that reason and compassion are not Western ideas—they are human truths. He proved that the Filipino soul could resonate with the highest ideals of humanity: liberty, justice, and truth.
Revolution Rooted in Reason
Unlike other revolutionaries of his time, Rizal believed that any true revolution must begin in the mind. Armed uprisings were sometimes necessary, but they must be guided by moral and intellectual clarity. This is why he emphasized education and conscience over violence.
In this, he again reflected the Deistic and Enlightenment spirit. God had given humanity reason as its moral compass. No church, no cleric, no king had the right to override the voice of conscience. Freedom was not a gift from rulers—it was the birthright of every thinking, feeling human being.
Rizal’s Modern Relevance
Today, as we face new forms of tyranny, misinformation, and blind fanaticism, Rizal’s Enlightenment-based Deism remains a powerful guide. In an age of noise and confusion, his call to reason, justice, and moral courage is more urgent than ever.
He teaches us that our heroes need not wear armor or robes—they can wield pens, question dogmas, and love the truth more than tradition. Rizal invites us to become modern Enlightenment thinkers—Filipinos who are not only free but wise, not only religious but rational, not only patriots but prophets of a better tomorrow.
Chapter 7: Nature and the Divine: Rizal’s Deistic Reverence for Creation
In the Deistic tradition, nature is not merely scenery or backdrop—it is the living temple of the Divine. The Deist does not seek God in cathedrals or creeds but in the silent majesty of a starry sky, the order of the seasons, and the quiet dignity of a tree. For José Rizal, this reverence for nature was not abstract poetry—it was a guiding principle, a source of moral clarity, and a spiritual compass.
Throughout his writings, Rizal expressed a profound admiration for nature. It was both a refuge from human cruelty and a mirror of truth. In nature, he saw not the wrath of a jealous God, but the calm presence of a wise and orderly force—the same force that gave human beings their reason, conscience, and freedom.
A Child of the Land
Rizal grew up in the lush province of Laguna, surrounded by the tranquil waters of the lake, the forested slopes of Mount Makiling, and the rhythm of rural life. From a young age, he observed the beauty and mystery of the natural world. He learned to sketch trees, animals, and flowers with great precision. But more than an artist, he was a spiritual observer—always searching for meaning in the design of things.
Nature was his first classroom, and it taught him the value of silence, simplicity, and harmony. He once wrote that the bird sings not because it has a theology, but because it is free. In that freedom, there is a divine beauty that no sermon could match.
Unlike the priests who preached about eternal fire and damnation, Rizal saw in nature a God who was neither angry nor distant—but gentle, lawful, and generous.
Nature as a Moral Teacher
For Rizal, nature was more than beautiful—it was morally instructive. In the growth of a tree, he saw patience. In the balance of ecosystems, he saw justice. In the sunrise, he saw hope. Nature was a book, and those who could read it would discover truths deeper than any religious dogma.
In Noli Me Tangere, the character of Ibarra dreams of building a school, not beside the church, but in a peaceful natural setting. The school would teach children to think, to question, and to admire the world around them. This dream reflects Rizal’s belief that education and nature should go hand in hand. A child who learns under the shade of trees will grow up with deeper roots—morally, intellectually, and spiritually.
In contrast, the friars built their schools and churches in ways that cut people off from nature. Thick walls, fearful sermons, and rote rituals created distance from the very source of divine wisdom. For Rizal, true religion should reconnect people with nature—not alienate them from it.
The Divine Order in the Universe
Rizal believed that the universe operates according to natural laws—not arbitrary miracles. Like the Deists of the Enlightenment, he saw the Creator as a rational force that established order and then gave humanity the freedom to discover it. This is why Rizal valued science—not as a threat to faith, but as a form of worship.
In his essays and studies, he often emphasized observation, evidence, and experimentation. He believed that human progress depended on our willingness to understand the natural world, not just recite religious traditions.
If God had created the world with wisdom, then to study nature was to honor that wisdom. A scientist, in Rizal’s eyes, was not a heretic—but a modern priest, offering reverent attention to the Divine through the microscope and telescope.
This view stands in sharp contrast to the Church’s suspicion of science, which had led to centuries of censorship and repression. For Rizal, truth revealed by nature was purer than any doctrine imposed by men.
Rizal’s Deistic Overtones
Though Rizal never explicitly called himself a deist—someone who believes that God and the universe are one—some of his writings do suggest a deep mystical connection between the Creator and creation. In his poem Mi Retiro (“My Retreat”), written during his exile in Dapitan, he speaks to the stars, the sea, and the birds with tenderness and awe. The entire poem reads like a prayer—not to a personal god, but to the vast and sacred life that surrounds him.
He writes: “The breeze stirs soft and gentle, The moonlight bathes the shore— My soul feels God in silence, In nature I adore.”
This is pure Deism—experiencing God not through creeds or sacraments, but through quiet communion with the natural world. Here, Rizal speaks not like a devout Catholic, but like a spiritual naturalist—finding sacred meaning in solitude, stars, and the sea.
Dapitan: Rizal’s Sacred Sanctuary
During his years in exile in Dapitan, Rizal lived in harmony with nature. He built a simple home among trees, treated the sick with natural remedies, collected specimens, and taught children under the open sky. He wrote poetry, studied plants, and walked by the seashore. It was, in many ways, his monastery—free from dogma, guided by reason, and nourished by nature.
This period reveals Rizal’s Deistic spirituality in its purest form. He lived not by rites or rituals, but by quiet reflection, ethical action, and a reverent love for creation.
In Dapitan, Rizal showed that true religion is not a performance—it is a way of life grounded in wisdom, service, and connection to the living world.
A Call to Filipino Spiritual Ecology
He reminds us that to harm nature is to insult the Creator—not with words, but with wounds. He teaches us that environmental care is not just political—it is spiritual. Every tree saved, every river cleaned, every child taught to love the earth is a sacred act.
To follow Rizal is not only to love the Philippines—but to protect the land that nurtures it. A true Filipino is not just a citizen—but a steward of creation.
Chapter 8: Faith Without Fear: Rizal’s Quiet Revolt Against Hellfire Religion
The religion of José Rizal was not built on fear—but on freedom. While the dominant faith of his time ruled through threats of hell and promises of heaven, Rizal quietly walked a different path: one of reason, conscience, and courage. His revolt was not with weapons—but with words. And his target was not only political tyranny—but spiritual terror.
For Rizal, any religion that enslaved the mind through fear was a betrayal of both God and humanity.
Religion of Fear
From childhood, Rizal witnessed the emotional and psychological control that friars exercised over Filipinos. The threat of eternal damnation was a constant tool of manipulation. People were taught to fear missing Mass, skipping confession, or even questioning a priest. Hell loomed as a punishment not just for sins—but for thinking independently.
Confessionals became places of shame. Pulpits were filled with fire and brimstone. Children were taught to tremble before a God who was portrayed as quick to anger and slow to forgive.
Rizal saw this with clear eyes. In one of his letters, he described how religion had “taught us to be afraid of God instead of loving Him.” This fear-based theology did not elevate the Filipino soul—it crushed it.
In Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, the characters live under the shadow of this terrifying version of God. Father Dámaso and Father Salví do not speak of compassion or reason—they use threats of eternal punishment to control lives and silence dissent. These fictional priests reflect very real figures in Rizal’s time who wielded theology like a whip.
A Rational and Moral God
In contrast, Rizal imagined a God who was not a cosmic tyrant, but a wise and moral force—one who had gifted humanity with reason and free will, not fear and blind obedience. He did not reject God—he rejected the version of God that had been used to justify injustice, ignorance, and cruelty.
For Rizal, true religion must be in harmony with the dictates of reason and the voice of conscience. A just God would not punish people for asking questions. A loving Creator would not condemn souls to eternal torture simply for being born into another faith.
This aligns perfectly with Deistic thought. Deists deny the notion of a wrathful God who punishes disbelief. Instead, they affirm a Creator who established a moral order and endowed human beings with the tools to navigate life with reason, ethics, and compassion.
Rizal’s writings echo this view. In La Indolencia de los Filipinos, he argues that laziness is not caused by race or fate, but by the deadening effects of a religion that discourages inquiry and initiative. In The Philippines a Century Hence, he envisions a Filipino people who are educated, free, and able to think for themselves—spiritually and politically.
The Silence of a Dying Man
Perhaps the most striking expression of Rizal’s quiet rejection of fear-based religion comes in the final hours of his life. As he faced execution, he displayed a calm and unwavering spirit. According to multiple accounts, he declined the services of a friar as he walked to his death. While he did receive last rites under great pressure, many believe he did so not from conviction, but to avoid unnecessary scandal or pain to his family.
What is certain is that Rizal met death without trembling. He walked to the execution ground with dignity, even turning to face his killers—a final act of freedom and courage. There was no cry of desperation, no plea for salvation—only a soul at peace.
This calm in the face of death reveals a man who had made peace not with church rituals, but with his own conscience and convictions. If he feared anything, it was ignorance and injustice—not hell.
Religion and Revolution
Rizal understood that fear-based religion was a barrier to true national awakening. How could a people rise in dignity when they were taught to see themselves as sinners in need of priestly mercy? How could they demand justice when they had been trained to accept suffering as God’s will?
Thus, his revolution was not only political—but spiritual. He sought to liberate the Filipino mind from both colonial power and theological terror.
This is why Rizal championed education—not just in science and history, but in ethics and philosophy. He wanted Filipinos to think clearly, to examine moral questions bravely, and to reject any doctrine that insulted their intelligence.
He admired thinkers like Voltaire, Locke, and Paine—not because they were anti-God, but because they were pro-reason. Like the Enlightenment philosophers, Rizal believed that religion must be a friend of truth—not an enemy of it.
A New Spiritual Vision
In the end, Rizal was not an atheist—but a man of deep moral faith. He believed in a Creator, but not in hellfire sermons. He revered Jesus as a moral teacher, but not as a divine punisher. He honored the good in religion, but rejected its use as a weapon of fear.
This is the essence of the Deistic spirit: to believe in a God who uplifts, not terrifies; who encourages thinking, not submission.
For Rizal, salvation was not about escaping hell—but about living a life of truth, honor, and love for country and fellow human beings. His life was a sermon written not in ink alone—but in sacrifice, courage, and vision.
In freeing Filipinos from fear, Rizal gave them the greatest gift: the courage to believe in themselves.
Chapter 9: The Ethics of Action: Rizal’s Moral Code Beyond Dogma
José Rizal lived in an age when morality was tightly tethered to religion. To be good meant to follow the Church. To be moral meant to obey its rules. But Rizal dared to ask: Is goodness possible without the chains of dogma? His life, his writings, and his sacrifice answered with a resounding yes.
Rizal’s morality did not come from a fear of divine punishment or a desire for heavenly reward—it flowed from reason, conscience, and love for humanity. In this, he stood shoulder to shoulder with the Deists of the Enlightenment, who believed that ethical living arises not from superstition, but from rational reflection on human dignity, social harmony, and natural law.
Beyond Church Morality
The religious authorities of Rizal’s time were quick to declare who was “righteous” and who was “sinful.” Acts such as skipping Mass, criticizing a friar, or reading banned books were considered offenses against God. Meanwhile, poverty, abuse, and ignorance—matters of real human suffering—were often overlooked or even justified.
Rizal could not accept this.
To him, morality was not a checklist of rituals—it was measured by its effect on real people. Does it uplift the poor? Does it promote justice? Does it serve truth? These were the questions that mattered to Rizal.
He observed that religion had become so obsessed with form that it had forgotten substance. People were taught to be devout in ceremony but indifferent to oppression. They were instructed to confess every impure thought but remain silent in the face of cruelty. This hypocrisy sickened Rizal.
He modeled a virtue rooted in dignity and courage, not obedience and fear. Unlike the passive morality preached by the Church—a morality of compliance and confession—Rizal’s moral code was active, alert, and liberating.
In Noli Me Tangere, he exposed this moral distortion through the character of Padre Dámaso, who preached virtue while hiding vice. In El Filibusterismo, he presented a society where religious instruction failed to prevent corruption, betrayal, and murder.
Through satire and symbolism, Rizal made a radical point: true morality cannot be monopolized by religion—especially not by one so deeply entangled with colonial interests.
The Deistic Foundation: Reason, Nature, and Conscience
The moral worldview of Rizal mirrors that of Deistic philosophers who rejected rigid theologies in favor of natural ethics—those principles observable through reason and the design of nature. To Deists, moral law is not revealed through scriptures alone but is written into the very fabric of human nature.
Rizal’s personal letters, essays, and novels echo this conviction. He believed in a God who endowed people with reason and conscience, not merely a list of commandments. He held that all humans have a natural sense of right and wrong—not because they were taught by clergy, but because they were born with it.
This is why he advocated for education as the cornerstone of moral development. Not religious indoctrination, but critical thinking—the kind that leads a person to choose honesty over deceit, courage over cowardice, and compassion over cruelty.
His essay Letter to the Young Women of Malolos is a beautiful example. There, he praised young Filipinas who sought to educate themselves despite religious disapproval. He urged them not to follow blindly, but to think, question, and act with integrity. His words were both tender and revolutionary:
“God’s will is different from the friars’ will… A woman must not be like a puppet without a soul or will.”
A Code of Action, Not Passivity
Rizal’s ethics were not only about inward purity but outward responsibility. To him, morality demanded action. Silence in the face of evil was itself a sin.
This was evident in his defense of Filipinos abroad, in his writings that exposed injustice, and ultimately in his willingness to face death. He knew that living a moral life might cost him his comfort, his reputation, even his safety—but not to do so would be a betrayal of his own soul.
Justice, Liberty, and Human Worth
At the heart of Rizal’s ethics lay a profound respect for human worth. Every person, he believed, had the right to freedom, to education, to self-determination. This belief fueled his criticism of both Spanish colonialism and the religious structures that propped it up.
In many ways, Rizal’s moral framework was a forerunner to modern human rights thinking. He championed freedom of thought, freedom of belief, and freedom from oppression long before these became political norms.
Deists, too, held these values sacred. For them, God was not a petty ruler demanding servitude, but a Creator who entrusted humanity with reason, responsibility, and the freedom to grow.
In Rizal’s view, to be moral was to protect the dignity of others. It meant confronting lies, uplifting the oppressed, and using knowledge for the good of society. This kind of morality required no priest, no threat of hell—only a sincere heart and a willing mind.
A Morality that Endures
Rizal’s life offers Filipinos a powerful example of ethical living beyond dogma. In a time when morality was controlled by friars and judged by rituals, Rizal carved a different path—one based on truth, conscience, and civic courage.
He did not invent a new religion. He simply reminded us of an ancient truth: that to do good, one must love truth more than comfort, justice more than tradition, and conscience more than approval.
His ethics still speak today—not just to believers or skeptics—but to all who long for a world where reason and compassion walk hand in hand.
Chapter 10: Rizal’s Selective Embrace of Scripture
To many in his time, the Bible was a sacred, untouchable book—meant to be revered, obeyed, and never questioned. But José Rizal, as with many Enlightenment thinkers before him, did not treat it as a monolithic voice of divine command. Instead, he approached it with a discerning mind and a reverent but critical heart. His was not the blind reverence of the devout, but the mindful respect of a man seeking truth.
Rizal’s approach to Scripture reflects what we might call a Deistic method: one that honors the wisdom found in sacred texts without surrendering to dogmatism. He read the Bible—especially the teachings of Jesus—not as a book of infallible rules, but as a repository of moral insight and timeless truths. He separated what was eternal from what was cultural, what was life-giving from what was oppressive, what was rational from what was mythological.
The Bible in Rizal’s Education
From his youth, Rizal was exposed to the Bible—though not always directly. The Spanish clergy tightly controlled its access, often discouraging laypeople from reading it themselves. But Rizal, ever the seeker of knowledge, found ways to study its contents.
Later in life, he read the Bible more thoroughly, in different translations and with the critical tools of language, history, and philosophy. His letters and essays show familiarity with both Old and New Testament themes, and he frequently quoted Jesus’ words—especially those that resonated with his moral and philosophical views.
However, Rizal never embraced the Bible uncritically. He questioned its inconsistencies. He rejected its use as a tool for submission. He disapproved of its exploitation by religious authorities to support colonial rule, social inequality, or mental slavery.
Jesus the Teacher, Not the Idol
Of all biblical figures, it was Jesus of Nazareth whom Rizal most admired—not as a divine object of worship, but as a model of ethical courage and spiritual clarity. In this, Rizal echoed the sentiments of many Deists and liberal Christians of the Enlightenment who respected Jesus as a moral reformer and prophet of reason and compassion.
Rizal did not quote Jesus to support dogma. He quoted him to expose hypocrisy. In his letters, Rizal invoked Jesus’ words against the pride and greed of the friars, much like Jesus confronted the Pharisees and temple merchants of his own day. Rizal saw in Jesus a man of peace who challenged corruption, stood with the oppressed, and taught that God is spirit, not an idol of power.
He admired Jesus’ teachings on love, forgiveness, humility, and the worth of the human soul. These values were, to Rizal, the heart of true religion—and they stood in sharp contrast to the oppressive religiosity of colonial clergy.
“Jesus Christ did not teach priests to enrich themselves, nor did he teach Filipinos to live in chains,” Rizal might well have said, as he defended the people’s right to truth and liberty.
A Rational Reading of Scripture
Rizal’s approach to the Bible was filtered through reason. Like Thomas Paine, who argued in The Age of Reason that parts of the Bible were beautiful while others were absurd or cruel, Rizal believed that Scripture must be judged by conscience and common sense.
He refused to accept verses that sanctioned slavery, violence, or injustice. He questioned doctrines that defied logic—such as eternal damnation for finite sins, or the deification of a man. To him, a just and rational God could not demand blind obedience or delight in human suffering.
In a letter to a Jesuit friend during his exile in Dapitan, Rizal respectfully expressed disagreement with church doctrines that lacked moral clarity or intellectual grounding. He maintained his right to interpret Scripture in a way that aligned with reason, human dignity, and the observable laws of nature.
This method placed him in the tradition of Enlightenment Deists, who believed that revelation, if true, would never contradict reason and that morality must be universal—not based on belief, but on action and intention.
Toward a Universal Ethic
By reading the Bible through the lens of conscience and reason, Rizal laid the groundwork for a universal ethic. He did not believe that morality was confined to any one religion or book. Rather, he believed that all humans—whatever their background—could access moral truth through their own reasoning, experience, and empathy.
This is why Rizal found common ground not only in the Gospels, but in other sources of wisdom: classical philosophy, Eastern spirituality, modern science, and the ethical ideals of humanism. For Rizal, as for many Deists, the entire universe was a sacred text waiting to be read.
He did not reject Scripture; he simply refused to be enslaved by it. He honored what was noble and rejected what was unjust. In doing so, he showed Filipinos a path of faith and reason—a way to seek God not just in old verses, but in life itself.
A Call to Thoughtful Faith
Rizal’s use of the Bible is a challenge to both the blindly faithful and the aggressively skeptical. He reminds us that sacred texts can be read with both reverence and rationality. That we can honor ancient wisdom without surrendering our critical faculties. That faith need not be dogmatic to be meaningful.
For Filipinos today, his legacy invites a deeper kind of spirituality—one that studies, questions, and ultimately chooses to live by the light of truth, wherever it may shine.
Chapter 11: Rizal’s Challenge to Blind Faith
One of the most striking features of José Rizal’s life was his unwavering commitment to reason. While others bowed to the religious authorities of his time, he dared to ask the questions most avoided: Is blind faith truly virtuous? Can religion stand the scrutiny of reason? And most importantly: What kind of God would demand belief without understanding?
In Rizal’s view, religion had lost its way—not because people sought God, but because they had been taught to stop thinking. He believed that a religion which suppresses reason is not a path to God, but a detour into fear and superstition. For Rizal, reason was not the enemy of faith—it was its guardian.
The Religious Landscape of Rizal’s Time
Colonial Philippines was dominated by the Spanish friars, whose brand of Catholicism emphasized obedience, guilt, and rigid dogma. The clergy controlled education, interpreted Scripture exclusively, and presented themselves as the gatekeepers of salvation. Dissent was considered heresy; questioning, rebellion; and independent thought, a sin.
In this setting, religion became a tool of colonial control. The sacraments were monopolized, confession weaponized, and education filtered through theological bias. The native Filipino’s natural sense of spirituality was replaced by imposed doctrines and rituals, often alien to their experience and culture.
Rizal, shaped by a broader education and exposed to Enlightenment ideals, could not silently accept this state of affairs. He saw how religion, when stripped of reason, could lead to mental slavery.
A Rational Spirituality
Rizal did not hate religion. He simply wanted it to be grounded in truth, conscience, and reason. Like the Deists of Europe and America, he believed that true religion could not be in conflict with rational thought or the moral law within every person.
For Rizal, a rational spirituality began with questioning. In his essays, letters, and novels, he exposed the contradictions in Church teachings and the immorality of their applications. Why would a loving God endorse eternal punishment? Why would the Church suppress access to the Bible? Why were priests preaching humility while living in luxury?
Such questions were dangerous to the religious establishment, but to Rizal, they were essential to genuine faith. He refused to believe that God could be honored by ignorance or by silence in the face of abuse. If God was truly good and just, then reason must be part of His design—and to use it was not rebellion, but devotion.
Faith vs. Fear
One of Rizal’s recurring themes was the manipulation of fear by religious authorities. He saw how the threat of hell, the guilt of sin, and the power of excommunication were used to control the minds of the people. Faith had been replaced by fear—and this, he argued, was a betrayal of God and humanity alike.
In his novels Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, characters like Padre Damaso and Padre Salvi personified this religious corruption. They wielded fear like a sword, punishing dissenters and silencing thinkers. Through his stories, Rizal warned Filipinos: Beware of any religion that demands fear instead of understanding.
He wanted people to know that faith could be free. That spirituality could be joyful. That belief in God should not come from terror, but from awe, beauty, and the love of truth.
The Power of Conscience
Rizal upheld conscience as the highest spiritual guide. While the Church claimed to speak for God, he believed that the divine voice echoed most clearly within the human soul—through reason, compassion, and moral intuition.
To him, conscience was the inner light by which each person must navigate life. If religion contradicted conscience, then it was religion that must be questioned, not conscience.
This belief led Rizal to respect other religions and philosophies. He was open to learning from Buddhism, Islam, Confucianism, and the moral teachings of various traditions. He believed that the Divine Truth could not be monopolized by any single creed.
Toward a Religion of Reason
What Rizal envisioned was not atheism, nor merely a watered-down Christianity. He imagined a reformed spirituality—rooted in reason, informed by science, nourished by compassion, and open to inquiry.
In this sense, Rizal stood shoulder to shoulder with Enlightenment philosophers and Deist thinkers such as Voltaire, Jefferson, and Paine. He believed in a Creator, but not in the dogmas invented by men. He believed in moral truth, but not in arbitrary commandments. He believed in the human soul, but not in inherited guilt or blind obedience.
His religion was one of justice, liberty, and love—where reason was not suppressed but celebrated. Where faith was a choice, not a chain.
A Message for the Filipino Soul
To the Filipino reader, Rizal’s example is both challenge and inspiration. He asks us not to abandon faith, but to purify it. Not to destroy religion, but to reform it—starting in our own hearts and minds.
Are we still afraid to think freely? Are we still trapped by doctrines we dare not question? Are we worshipping out of fear—or walking with the Divine through the path of reason?
Rizal’s legacy calls for a thoughtful spirituality. One that reveres mystery, but never fears inquiry. One that trusts the heart, but trains the mind. One that dares to ask, Is this truly of God—or just the invention of men?
In the end, Rizal’s challenge to blind faith was an act of deep devotion—not to religion, but to truth. And in that truth, he found a higher form of faith: one that can survive doubt, embrace reason, and light the way for a people still seeking freedom—body, mind, and soul.
Chapter 12: Nature, Science, and the Divine Order
For Jose Rizal, nature was not merely a backdrop for human life—it was a reflection of the Divine Order itself. As an ardent advocate for science and reason, he saw the natural world as both a source of wonder and a guide to understanding the Creator. To him, the laws of nature were not a separate realm from the divine; they were, in fact, the very language by which God expressed Himself.
Rizal’s love for nature was evident in his writings, his scientific endeavors, and even his artistic expressions. He was not just a passive observer of the world around him—he sought to understand it, to map it, to categorize it. But in doing so, he also found in nature an inherent wisdom, a divine structure that echoed his Deistic beliefs: a belief that God, the Creator, set the universe in motion and allowed it to unfold according to rational principles.
The Divine in Nature
Rizal’s faith in the divine order of the natural world can be traced back to the principles of Deism. Like many Deists, he rejected the idea that God was directly involved in every aspect of human life. He believed that God had created the universe, set it into motion, and imbued it with laws that governed its functioning. These laws were not to be broken by miracles or supernatural events; instead, they were the natural expressions of God’s will.
For Rizal, the beauty and complexity of the natural world were proof of the existence of a rational and orderly Creator. He did not see the natural world as a mere product of random chance but as the manifestation of divine intelligence. The harmony of the universe—its intricate balance and the interdependence of all living things—was for him a reflection of the wisdom and purpose of God.
In his writings, Rizal frequently alluded to nature as a means of understanding the divine. In Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, he used nature to symbolize spiritual truths, illustrating how the Creator’s hand could be seen in the cycles of life, the flourishing of plants, and the majestic beauty of the earth. Nature, for Rizal, was a mirror through which one could perceive the deeper truths of existence.
Rizal as a Scientist and Naturalist
Rizal’s deep respect for the natural world was not just philosophical—it was practical. His scientific curiosity was boundless, and he made significant contributions to various fields, including ophthalmology, biology, and ethnography. During his time in exile in Dapitan, Rizal conducted extensive research into the flora and fauna of the region, documenting species and studying the local ecosystems. He sent his findings to various scientific societies in Europe, earning recognition from scholars across the globe.
But beyond his scientific achievements, Rizal’s work was driven by a profound reverence for the natural world. He approached science not as a cold, detached observer, but as someone seeking to understand the deeper, divine order that governed the universe. He believed that science and religion were not in conflict, but were two complementary ways of exploring the same truth—the truth of a rational and purposeful Creator.
Rizal’s work in botany, for example, was not merely an academic pursuit. He sought to understand the intricate designs of plants and their purpose within the natural world. His study of plants in the Philippines was not only a matter of cataloging species—it was an exploration of the divine wisdom embedded in nature.
The Laws of Nature as Evidence of God
Rizal’s Deistic worldview was grounded in the belief that the laws of nature were the clearest evidence of God’s existence. The idea that the universe operated according to observable, rational laws was for him a confirmation of divine intelligence. As the laws of physics, biology, and chemistry unfolded in predictable patterns, Rizal saw the Creator’s hand at work in every corner of the natural world.
He rejected the notion that the world was shaped by miraculous interventions or divine punishments. Instead, he believed that the divine, having set the world in motion, had allowed it to operate according to its own laws, without the need for constant interference. This perspective aligned closely with the Deist belief that God is the Creator who gave the universe the capacity to evolve and function independently.
For Rizal, the study of nature and science was a means of coming closer to God. The more one understood the natural world, the more one could appreciate the rational and orderly mind behind it. In this sense, science was not just a tool for technological progress—it was a path to spiritual enlightenment.
The Ethics of Nature
Rizal’s respect for nature extended beyond scientific inquiry—it was also tied to his ethical beliefs. He saw in nature a model of balance, harmony, and cooperation. The intricate relationships between species, the cycles of life and death, and the natural processes of growth and decay all demonstrated the importance of balance and respect for life.
Rizal’s ethical philosophy, which emphasized the importance of reason and morality, was deeply influenced by the natural world. He believed that humans, like all creatures, were part of the broader web of life. He argued that humans had a responsibility to live in harmony with nature, respecting its laws and seeking to protect the environment for future generations.
This respect for nature was particularly relevant in the context of colonial Philippines, where the Spanish authorities exploited the land and its resources for profit. Rizal saw this exploitation as not only unjust but also a violation of the natural order. He believed that the Philippines, like all nations, had a responsibility to protect its environment and use its resources wisely and sustainably.
The Role of Science in Human Progress
Rizal was a passionate advocate for the advancement of science and education, believing that knowledge was essential for the progress of both the individual and society. He saw science as a tool for liberation—freedom from ignorance, superstition, and oppression. Through scientific inquiry, Rizal believed that humanity could better understand the world, improve its condition, and ultimately achieve greater justice and equality.
For Rizal, the pursuit of knowledge was not merely an intellectual exercise—it was a moral imperative. He believed that science, when used ethically and responsibly, could help build a more just and compassionate world. It was through the application of reason and knowledge that society could break free from the chains of colonialism, dogma, and exploitation.
This belief in the transformative power of science was central to Rizal’s vision for the Philippines. He understood that the future of his country depended on education and the development of critical thinking. By empowering the Filipino people with the tools of science and reason, Rizal believed that they could break free from the oppressive forces that had held them in bondage for centuries.
Nature as a Spiritual Pathway
Rizal’s reverence for nature also had a spiritual dimension. For him, the natural world was not just a source of intellectual curiosity; it was a pathway to spiritual insight. By contemplating the beauty and complexity of nature, Rizal believed that one could come to a deeper understanding of the divine. Nature, in this sense, was a sacred text—a source of inspiration and wisdom.
In his personal life, Rizal found solace and spiritual nourishment in nature. Whether during his time in Dapitan or in the mountains of his beloved Philippines, he often sought solitude in the natural world. It was in these moments of quiet reflection, surrounded by the beauty of nature, that Rizal felt most connected to the divine.
His writings, too, reveal his deep spiritual connection to nature. Whether describing the landscapes of the Philippines or reflecting on the stars above, Rizal’s words are imbued with a sense of awe and reverence. In nature, he saw not only the evidence of God’s intelligence but also the presence of God Himself.
A Legacy of Harmony and Understanding
Rizal’s view of nature as a reflection of divine order, his integration of science and spirituality, and his call for ethical responsibility toward the environment serve as enduring lessons for us today. In an age where the natural world is increasingly threatened by human activity, Rizal’s example challenges us to reimagine our relationship with the earth.
His life and works remind us that nature is not merely a resource to be exploited, but a sacred trust to be cherished. As Rizal saw it, to live in harmony with nature is to honor the divine, to respect the wisdom embedded in the natural world, and to ensure a better future for generations to come.
Chapter 13: Rizal’s Lasting Legacy: A Call to Reason and Justice
Jose Rizal’s life was one marked by struggle, sacrifice, and an unyielding pursuit of truth. Though he was ultimately executed by the colonial government, his ideas, his vision, and his dedication to justice have transcended time and borders, leaving an indelible mark on the Filipino people and the world. His legacy is not confined to the pages of history but lives on in the hearts of those who continue to embrace the ideals of reason, liberty, and equality that he championed.
Rizal was more than a nationalist; he was a philosopher, a scientist, a humanist, and a reformer. His vision of a just and enlightened society went beyond political independence—he sought the freedom of the human mind, the liberation of reason from the shackles of dogma, and the empowerment of the individual to seek truth and live according to moral principles. His life and works continue to inspire those who seek justice and freedom in a world still grappling with inequality and oppression.
A Legacy Rooted in Reason
At the heart of Rizal’s legacy is his unwavering commitment to reason. Unlike many of his contemporaries who adhered blindly to tradition, Rizal believed that human beings must use their intellect to understand the world around them and to make decisions based on evidence, logic, and morality. His advocacy for education, scientific progress, and rational thought was a direct challenge to the colonial mindset that sought to stifle independent thought and maintain control over the Filipino people through ignorance.
Rizal’s commitment to reason was reflected in his belief that true freedom could only be achieved through the exercise of the intellect. He understood that the Filipino people would never be free as long as they were enslaved by superstition, ignorance, and blind faith. He argued that the true power of a nation lies in the intellectual and moral development of its people. In this regard, Rizal’s vision was far ahead of its time, anticipating the modern emphasis on education, critical thinking, and the pursuit of knowledge as the keys to social and political liberation.
Rizal’s life demonstrated that the struggle for justice and freedom is not only political but intellectual. The quest for justice must begin in the mind, with the courage to question, to challenge, and to seek the truth no matter how uncomfortable or inconvenient it may be. His example teaches us that the pursuit of justice is not only about fighting against external tyranny, but also about freeing the mind from the chains of ignorance and dogma.
The Universal Appeal of Justice
Rizal’s vision of justice was not limited to the Philippines; it was a universal call for human dignity, equality, and respect for the rights of all people. His critique of colonialism, imperialism, and oppression was not solely directed at the Spanish rulers but at all systems of exploitation and injustice. His belief in the equality of all people and his call for social reform were grounded in a humanistic framework that transcended national boundaries.
Throughout his writings, Rizal consistently emphasized the importance of moral integrity and the duty of individuals and societies to act in accordance with the principles of justice. He believed that justice could not be achieved through violence, hatred, or revenge, but through education, dialogue, and mutual respect. In Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, Rizal portrayed the destructive effects of social inequality and the importance of reforming society from within, through the cultivation of compassion, understanding, and reason.
Rizal’s advocacy for justice was not merely theoretical; it was rooted in his deep empathy for the suffering of the Filipino people and his commitment to alleviating that suffering. He understood that true justice required not only legal and political reforms but also a change in the hearts and minds of individuals. His call for social justice was a call to examine one’s own conscience, to confront one’s own prejudices, and to act in a way that promotes the common good.
The Relevance of Rizal’s Ideas Today
In today’s world, where injustice, inequality, and oppression persist in many forms, Rizal’s ideas are as relevant as ever. His call for the use of reason, the pursuit of truth, and the fight for justice resonates deeply in a world where misinformation, exploitation, and corruption continue to undermine human dignity and the common good.
Rizal’s advocacy for education as a tool of liberation is particularly pertinent in an age where access to quality education remains a challenge for many. His emphasis on critical thinking and intellectual independence is a powerful antidote to the forces of ignorance and manipulation that often shape public opinion and policy. Rizal’s legacy teaches us that education is not merely a means of acquiring knowledge, but a tool for empowering individuals and communities to fight for their rights and to build a better future.
Moreover, Rizal’s belief in the importance of moral integrity and the need for individuals to act in accordance with their conscience is a message that transcends time and place. In a world where ethical values are often compromised in the pursuit of power and profit, Rizal’s example reminds us that true justice can only be achieved when individuals are guided by their sense of right and wrong, and when they are willing to stand up for what is just, even in the face of adversity.
Rizal’s ideas also continue to inspire those who are working to build a more just and equitable society. His vision of a world where reason, compassion, and justice prevail is a vision that transcends borders, races, and religions. It is a call to all people to work together in solidarity, to promote human dignity, and to create a world where the rights of all individuals are respected and upheld.
A Call to Action
Rizal’s life was one of action—he did not merely theorize about justice, but took concrete steps to achieve it. Whether through his writings, his involvement in political reform, or his ultimate sacrifice for the cause of freedom, Rizal demonstrated that the struggle for justice requires more than words—it requires commitment, courage, and action.
In his final moments, Rizal remained steadfast in his belief in the power of reason and justice. Even as he faced execution, he did not renounce his ideals or his commitment to the Filipino people. His last words—“Consummatum est”—were not a sign of defeat but a declaration that his life’s work had been fulfilled. Rizal’s death did not mark the end of his legacy; rather, it solidified his place as a martyr for the cause of freedom and justice.
(Note: The phrase “Consummatum est” (“It is finished”) is traditionally attributed to José Rizal as his final words before his execution by firing squad on December 30, 1896. However, the historical accuracy of this claim is debated.)
Today, the call to action remains as urgent as ever. Rizal’s life serves as a reminder that the struggle for justice is ongoing and that we, too, have a responsibility to continue the work he began. We must use our reason to confront the injustices of our time, to challenge systems of oppression, and to fight for a world where all people can live with dignity, equality, and freedom.
The Eternal Spirit of José Rizal
Rizal’s legacy is not just a collection of ideas—it is a living, breathing force that continues to inspire generations of Filipinos and people around the world. His commitment to reason, justice, and the betterment of society serves as a beacon of hope in a world that still faces many challenges. Rizal’s spirit lives on in the hearts of those who believe in the power of knowledge, the strength of moral integrity, and the importance of standing up for what is right.
In the final analysis, José Rizal’s legacy is a call to all of us to embrace the principles of reason, justice, and human dignity. It is a call to live lives of integrity, to seek truth with courage, and to work for a world that reflects the best of what humanity can achieve. The struggle for justice is not over—it is a journey that continues, and we, like Rizal, must be its champions.
Conclusion: The Lasting Legacy of José Rizal
As we reflect upon the life, works, and ideas of José Rizal, we are reminded that his legacy is not merely confined to the pages of history or to the monuments dedicated to him in the Philippines. Rather, it is a living legacy—a testament to the enduring power of reason, the pursuit of justice, and the unwavering belief in the inherent dignity of all human beings. Rizal’s life continues to inspire countless individuals, not only in the Philippines but across the world, who strive for freedom, equality, and intellectual and moral enlightenment.
Rizal’s commitment to reason and his advocacy for social reform transcended the political landscape of his time. His rejection of blind faith, superstition, and colonial oppression, in favor of a philosophy grounded in rational thought, human dignity, and justice, set him apart as a revolutionary figure whose ideas were ahead of his time. His work continues to serve as a beacon for those who believe in the transformative power of education, empathy, and the courage to challenge systems of power that perpetuate inequality.
In revisiting Rizal’s writings and actions, we recognize that his fight for justice was not a one-dimensional struggle for independence, but a comprehensive call for intellectual freedom, moral integrity, and a just society. He envisioned a world where individuals could flourish not only in terms of political autonomy but also through the exercise of their intellect, their conscience, and their capacity for compassion. His call for a society based on reason and equality remains as relevant today as it was in the nineteenth century.
The universality of Rizal’s message resonates deeply in an age where oppression, corruption, and inequality continue to shape the lives of many. In the face of these challenges, we are called to reflect on Rizal’s vision and ask ourselves: How can we contribute to a more just and enlightened world? How can we, in our own ways, carry forward the principles of reason, justice, and human dignity that Rizal so passionately championed?
José Rizal’s life was one of action, not mere words. His willingness to sacrifice everything—including his life—for the ideals of truth, justice, and freedom speaks to the depth of his commitment to the betterment of humanity. As we honor his memory, let us not forget that his legacy is not passive; it is a challenge to us all to live lives of integrity, to seek truth with unwavering resolve, and to stand up against the injustices that still plague our world.
In the spirit of José Rizal, let us commit ourselves to the pursuit of knowledge, to the cultivation of empathy and understanding, and to the tireless work of building a world where justice, freedom, and human dignity are not mere ideals but living realities. The path he laid before us is one of reason, compassion, and moral courage—a path that we must continue to walk in his honor, carrying his light forward into the future.
Jose Rizal’s legacy is timeless. It is not bound by time or place, but continues to inspire and guide those who seek a better world. As we walk the path of justice and reason, let us carry with us the spirit of Rizal—an enlightened spirit that will continue to shine brightly for generations of Filipinos to come…and hopefully beyond Philippine shores.