Professional Documents
Culture Documents
(First) Liworiz
(First) Liworiz
(First) Liworiz
Who is Riza?
● He is a gang leader
● Hinamon ang isang spanish journalist ng barilan
● Hinamon si Heneral Luna ng suntukan
● Hinamon ang anak ng principal ng suntukan
● Rizal is not womanizer
● Rizal was curious why a lot of women is still looking for him although he is poor because he is
jobless and the money he use is from his family
● He is conscious about his appearance that’s why he is a gym buff he left his barbell in his
house in Dapitan
AN ACT TO INCLUDE IN THE CURRICULA OF ALL PUBLIC AND PRIVATE SCHOOLS, COLLEGES
AND UNIVERSITIES COURSES ON THE LIFE, WORKS AND WRITINGS OF JOSE RIZAL,
PARTICULARLY HIS NOVELS NOLI ME TANGERE AND EL FILIBUSTERISMO, AUTHORIZING THE
PRINTING AND DISTRIBUTION THEREOF, AND FOR OTHER PURPOSES
WHEREAS, today, more than any other period of our history, there is a need for a re-dedication to the
ideals of freedom and nationalism for which our heroes lived and died;
WHEREAS, it is meet that in honoring them, particularly the national hero and patriot, Jose Rizal, we
remember with special fondness and devotion their lives and works that have shaped the national
character;
WHEREAS, the life, works and writing of Jose Rizal, particularly his novels Noli Me Tangere and El
Filibusterismo, are a constant and inspiring source of patriotism with which the minds of the youth,
especially during their formative and decisive years in school, should be suffused;
WHEREAS, all educational institutions are under the supervision of, and subject to regulation by the
State, and all schools are enjoined to develop moral character, personal discipline, civic conscience
and to teach the duties of citizenship; Now, therefore,
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 or their English translation shall be used as basic texts.
The Board of National Education is hereby authorized and directed to adopt forthwith measures to
implement and carry out the provisions of this Section, including the writing and printing of appropriate
primers, readers and textbooks. The Board shall, within sixty (60) days from the effectivity of this Act,
promulgate rules and regulations, including those of a disciplinary nature, to carry out and enforce the
provisions of this Act. The Board shall promulgate rules and regulations providing for the exemption of
students for reasons of religious belief stated in a sworn written statement, from the requirement of the
provision contained in the second part of the first paragraph of this section; but not from taking the
course provided for in the first part of said paragraph. Said rules and regulations shall take effect thirty
(30) days after their publication in the Official Gazette.
SECTION 2. It shall be obligatory on all schools, colleges and universities to keep in their libraries an
adequate number of copies of the original and unexpurgated editions of the Noli Me Tangere and El
Filibusterismo, as well as of Rizal’s other works and biography. The said unexpurgated editions of the
Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo or their translations in English as well as other writings of Rizal
shall be included in the list of approved books for required reading in all public or private schools,
colleges and universities.
The Board of National Education shall determine the adequacy of the number of books, depending
upon the enrollment of the school, college or university.
SECTION 3. The Board of National Education shall cause the translation of the Noli Me Tangere and
El Filibusterismo, as well as other writings of Jose Rizal into English, Tagalog and the principal
Philippine dialects; cause them to be printed in cheap, popular editions; and cause them to be
distributed, free of charge, to persons desiring to read them, through the Purok organizations and Barrio
Councils throughout the country.
SECTION 4. Nothing in this Act shall be construed as amendment or repealing section nine hundred
twenty-seven of the Administrative Code, prohibiting the discussion of religious doctrines by public
school teachers and other person engaged in any public school.
SECTION 5. The sum of three hundred thousand pesos is hereby authorized to be appropriated out of
any fund not otherwise appropriated in the National Treasury to carry out the purposes of this Act.
Love of Country By Dr. Jose Rizal *First article of Dr. Jose Rizal written outside of the Philippines.
Published for the first time in Diariong Tagalog, Manila 20 August, 1882; then in La Solidaridad, Madrid
31 October 1890, Vol II, No. 42, pp.246-248. Translated from the Spanish by Dr. Encarnacion Alzona
Here is a beautiful subject, and because it is beautiful, it is very backneyed. Learned man, poet, artist,
laborer, merchant, or soldier, old or young, king or slave- all have pondered it and devoted to it the most
valued fruits of their intelligence, or of their hearts. From the cultured European, free, and proud of his
glorious history, to the African Negro dragged out of his forests and sold for a paltry sum; from ancient
peoples whose shadows still hover over their somber ruins-the tombs of their glories and sufferings-to
the modern nations, full of activity and life, all, all have had and have an idol whom they call Motherland-
beautiful, brilliant, sublime but implacable, haughty, and exacting. A thousand tongues have sung to
her, a thousand lyres have offered her their most sonorous music; the most favored intellect have
displayed before her memory, their most resplendent fineries. She has been the universal cry of peace,
of love, and of glory because she is in the hearts and minds of all men, and like the light enclosed in
limpid crystal, she goes forth in the form of the most intense splendors. And will this be an obstacle to
us who wish to treat of her? And can we not dedicate to her something, we whose only sin is to have
been born later? Would the XIXth century serve as an excuse for us to be ungrateful? No. The rich mine
of the heart has not yet been exhausted. Her remembrance is always prolific, and no matter how little
inspiration we have, positively we will find in the bottom of our soul, if not a rich treasure, a mite, poor
but an enthusiastic manifestation of our sentiments. In the manner then of the ancient Hebrews who
offered in the temple the first fruits of their love, we in foreign land will dedicate our first utterances to
our country, enveloped in morning clouds and mist, always beautiful and poetic, and the more idolized
by her sons when they are absent and far away from her. And this is not surprising, because it is a very
natural feeling; because there in our country are first memories of childhood, a merry ode, known only
in childhood, from whose races spring forth the flower of innocence and happiness; because there
slumbers a whole past and a future can be hoped, because in her forests and in her meadows, on every
tree, on every blade, on every flower you see engraved the memory of a being you love, as her breath
in the perfumed breeze, her song in the murmur of the fountain, her smile in the rainbow of the sky, or
her sighs in the confused moans of the night wind. It is because you see there with the eyes of your
imagination, under the tranquil roof of your old home, a family who remembers you and awaits you,
thinking of you and worrying about you; in short because in her sky, in her sun, in her seas, and in her
forests, you find poetry, tenderness, and love and even in the cemetery there is a humble tomb awaiting
you to return you to the soil. Will there be a genie who will bind your heart to the soil of our native
country, who beautifies and adorns everything, showing us all objects in a poetic and sentimental aspect
and captivating our hearts. Because under whatever aspect she may appear, whether she is dressed
in purple, crowned with flowers and laurels, powerful and rich; whether she is sorrowful and solitary,
clad in rags and a slave, entreating her slave sons; whether she is a nymph in a pleasant garden beside
the blue waves of the sea, gracious and beautiful as the dream of deluded youth; whether she is
enveloped in a shroud of snow, sitting fatidically on the ends of the earth under a sunless and starless
sky; whatever her name, her age, or her fortune might be, we love her always, as the child loves his
mother even in the midst of hunger and misery, And how strange: The poorer and more wretched she
is, the more one is willing to suffer for her, the more she is adored, the more one finds pleasure in
bearing up with her.
It has been observed that the people of the mountains and wild valleys and those born on barren and
dismal land are the very ones who can remember more vividly their country, finding in the cities a terrible
boredom which compels them to return to their native land. Is it because love of country is the purest,
most heroic, and most sublime human sentiment? It is gratitude; it is affection for everything that
reminds us of something of the first days of our life; it is the land where our ancestors are sleeping; it is
the temple where we have worshipped God with the candor of babbling childhood; it is the sound of the
church bell which has delighted us since a child; they are the vast fields, the blue lake, the picturesque
banks of the river which we pass by in a nimble boat; the limpid brook which laves the cheerful little
house nestling among flowers like a love-nest; or the tall mountain which inspire us this pleasant
sentiment? Will it be the raging storm that lashes, and knocks down everything it finds on its way; the
lightning which, escaping from the hands of the Almighty annihilates everything; will it be the avalanche
or cascade, matters of perpetual motion and endless menace? Is it all this that attracts, captivates, and
entices us? Probably these beauties or tender remembrances fortify the tie that unites us to our native
land, engendering a pleasant feeling of wellbeing when we are in our country, or deep melancholy when
we are far away from her, the origin of a cruel disease called nostalgia. Oh! Never sadden the stranger
who arrives at your shores; do not awaken in him that vivid memory of his country, the comforts of his
home, because then you will evoke this sickness, tenacious phantom that will not abandon him until he
sees again his native land or he arrives at the border of the tomb. Never pour a drop of bitterness in his
heart, for in such circumstances the sorrows are exaggerated compared with the happiness of the lost
home. We are born, then grow up, we get old, and we die with this pious sentiment. IT is perhaps the
most constant if there is constancy in the hearts of men, and it seems that it does not abandon us even
in our very tombs. Napoleon, seeing dimly the dark bottom, of the grave, remember his France whom
he loved extremely, and in his exile he entrusts to her his remains, confident that he will find more
comforting rest in her midst. Ovid, more unfortunate, and divining that not even his ashes would return
to Rome, dying on the shores of the Black Sea, consoled himself with the thought that if not he, at least
his verses would reach the Capitol. As children we love games; as adolescent we forget them; as young
men we search for our ideal; disappointed, we weep over it and we go seeking for something more
positive and more useful; as fathers, our children die; and time rubs out our griefs as the air of the sea
obliterates the shoreline as the ship moves away from it.
But, on the other hand, love of country is never effaced once it has penetrated the heart, because it
carries with it a divine stamp which renders it eternal and imperishable. It has been said that love has
always been the most powerful force behind the most sublime actions. Well then, of all loves, that of
country is the greatest, the most heroic and the most disinterested. Read history, if not, the annals, the
traditions. Go to the homes, what sacrifices, selfdenial and tears are held on the sacred altar of the
nation. From Brutus, who condemned his sons charged with treason, to Guzman the Good who allowed
his son to die in order not to fail in his duty, what dramas, what tragedies what martyrdom have not
been enacted for the welfare of that inexorable divinity who has nothing to give you in return for your
children but gratitude and blessings! And notwithstanding, with the pieces of their hearts they raise
glorious monuments to their motherland; with the work of their hands, with the sweat of their brow, they
have sprinkled and made fruitful her sacred tree, and neither have they expected nor received any
reward. See there a man sunk in his study. For him his best days are passing away, his sight weakens,
his hair turns gray and gradually disappears with his illusions; his body stops. For years he has been
after a truth; he solves a problem; hunger and thirst, cold and heat; sickness and misfortune have
successively confronted him. He is going down his grave and avails of his agony to offer to his
motherland a rosette for her crown, a truth- fountain and origin of a thousand benefits. Turn your eyes
to another direction: a man tanned by the sun scratches the ungrateful soil to plant a seed. He is a
farmer. He too contributes with his modest but useful work to the glory of his nation. The motherland is
in danger! Soldiers and leaders as if by charm spring from the ground. The father leaves his children,
the sons leave their parents and all rush to defend their common mother. They bid farewell to the quiet
pleasures of the home and hide under their helmets the tears that tenderness draws. They all leave and
die. Perhaps he is the father of many children, fair and pinkish like cherubs; perhaps he is a young man
of smiling hopes- a son or a lover-it does not matter. He has defended the one who gave him life he
has fulfilled his duty. Peter or Leonides, whoever he might be, the Motherland will know how to
remember him. Some have sacrificed for her their youth, their pleasure; others have dedicated to her
the splendors of their genius; others shed their blood; all have died, bequeathing to their Motherland an
immense fortune; Liberty and glory. And what has she done for them? She mourns them and proudly
presents them to the world, or posterity and to her children to serve as an example. But alas, if at the
magic of your name, oh Motherland, the most heroic virtues shine; if in your name superhuman
sacrifices are made, on the other hand, what injustices…! From Jesus Crist who, all love, has come to
the world for the welfare of humanity and dies for it in accordance with the laws of his motherland, to
the most obscure victims of modern revolutions, how many, alas, have not suffered and died for you,
usurped by others. How many victims of rancor, of ambition, or of ignorance have not expired blessing
you and wishing you all kind of happiness!
Fair and grand is the Motherland when her children at the cy of battle, get ready to defend the ancient
land of their ancestors; cruel and arrogant when she sees from her throne the terrified foreigner flee
before the invincible phalanx of her sons. But when her sons, divided into rival factions, destroy one
another: when anger and rancor devastate fields, towns, and cities; then ashamed, she tears away her
robe and hurling her scepter, she put on mourning clothes for her dead sons. Whatever our condition
might be then, let us love her always and let us wish nothing but her welfare. Thus we shall labor in
conformity with the purpose of humanity dictated by God which is the harmony and universal peace of
his creatures, You who have lost the ideal of your souls, you who, with wounded hearts, have seen your
illusions disappear one by one and like the trees in autumn you find yourselves without flowers and
without leaves, and desirous of loving, find no one worthy of you, there you have the Motherland: Love
her. You who have lost a father, mother, brother, wife, child, in short, love, upon which you have founded
your dreams, and you find in yourselves a deep and horrible void, there you have the Motherland: Love
her as she deserves. Love her! Oh, yes! But not as they loved in other times by performing ferocious
acts, denied and condemned by true morals and mother nature; by making a display of fanaticism,
destruction, and cruelty, no. A more promising dawn, in short, of true Christianity, the prelude to happy
and peaceful days. It is our duty to follow the arid but peaceful and productive paths of science which
lead to progress, and thence to the unity desired and asked by Jesus Christ on the night of his sorrow.
Kapagka ang baya'y sadyang umiibig Whenever people of a country truly love
sa kanyang salitang kaloob ng langit, The language which by heav'n they were taught to use
sanlang kalayaan nasa ring masapit That country also surely liberty pursue
katulad ng ibong nasa himpapawid. As does the bird which soars to freer space above.
Pagkat ang salita'y isang kahatulan For language is the final judge and referee
sa bayan, sa nayo't mga kaharian, Upon the people in the land where it holds sway;
at ang isang tao'y katulad, kabagay In truth our human race resembles in this way
ng alin mang likha noong kalayaan. The other living beings born in liberty.
Ang hindi magmahal sa kanyang salita Whoever knows not how to love his native tongue
mahigit sa hayop at malansang isda, Is worse than any best or evil smelling fish.
kaya ang marapat pagyamaning kusa To make our language richer ought to be our wish
na tulad sa isang tunay na nagpala. The same as any mother loves to feed her young.
Ang wikang tagalog tulad din sa latin, Tagalog and the Latin language are the same
sa ingles, kastila at salitang anghel And English and Castilian and the angels' tongue;
sapagka't ang Poong maalam tumingin And God, whose watchful care o'er all is flung,
ang siyang naggawad, nagbigay sa atin. Has given us His blessing in the speech we calim,
Ang salita nati'y huwad din sa iba Our mother tongue, like all the highest tht we know
na may alfabeto at sariling letra, Had alphabet and letters of its very own;
na kaya nawala'y dinatnan ng sigwa But these were lost -- by furious waves were overthrown
ang lunday sa lawa noong dakong una. Like bancas in the stormy sea, long years ago
See how in flaming zone Go forth, and then the sacred fire
Amid the shadows thrown, Of thy genius to the laurel may aspire;
The Spaniard'a holy hand To spread around the fame,
A crown's resplendent band And in victory acclaim,
Proffers to this Indian land. Through wider spheres the human name.
Farewell, dear Fatherland, clime of the sun caress'd And when the dark night wraps the graveyard around
Pearl of the Orient seas, our Eden lost!, With only the dead in their vigil to see
Gladly now I go to give thee this faded life's best, Break not my repose or the mystery profound
And were it brighter, fresher, or more blest And perchance thou mayst hear a sad hymn resound
Still would I give it thee, nor count the cost. 'T is I, O my country, raising a song unto thee.
On the field of battle, 'mid the frenzy of fight,
Others have given their lives, without doubt or heed; And even my grave is remembered no more
The place matters not-cypress or laurel or lily white, Unmark'd by never a cross nor a stone
Scaffold or open plain, combat or martyrdom's plight, Let the plow sweep through it, the spade turn it o'er
T is ever the same, to serve our home and country's need. That my ashes may carpet earthly floor,
Before into nothingness at last they are blown.
I die just when I see the dawn break,
Through the gloom of night, to herald the day; Then will oblivion bring to me no care
And if color is lacking my blood thou shalt take, As over thy vales and plains I sweep;
Pour'd out at need for thy dear sake Throbbing and cleansed in thy space and air
To dye with its crimson the waking ray. With color and light, with song and lament I fare,
Ever repeating the faith that I keep.
My dreams, when life first opened to me,
My dreams, when the hopes of youth beat high, My Fatherland ador'd, that sadness to my sorrow lends
Were to see thy lov'd face, O gem of the Orient sea Beloved Filipinas, hear now my last good-by!
From gloom and grief, from care and sorrow free; I give thee all: parents and kindred and friends
No blush on thy brow, no tear in thine eye. For I go where no slave before the oppressor bends,
Where faith can never kill, and God reigns e'er on high!
Dream of my life, my living and burning desire,
All hail ! cries the soul that is now to take flight; Farewell to you all, from my soul torn away,
All hail ! And sweet it is for thee to expire; Friends of my childhood in the home dispossessed!
To die for thy sake, that thou mayst aspire; Give thanks that I rest from the wearisome day!
And sleep in thy bosom eternity's long night. Farewell to thee, too, sweet friend that lightened my way;
Beloved creatures all, farewell! In death there is rest!
If over my grave some day thou seest grow,
In the grassy sod, a humble flower,
Draw it to thy lips and kiss my soul so,
While I may feel on my brow in the cold tomb below
The touch of thy tenderness, thy breath's warm power.
John Nery
● Journalist and Author
● Revolutionary Spirit: Jose Rizal in Southeast Asia
● Jose Rizal’s life is like a movie that was born in the Philippines, went to Europe and
go back in the Philippines where he was killed
Paul Dumol
● Historian and Playwright
● Associate Professor at University of Asia and the Pacific
● When Rizal is alive, there were already legends about him
● Aguilando already proclaimed the first commemoration of the death of Rizal even
before the Americans came in the Philippines
● You can understand Rizal by reading him and not by reading about him that is why
there were already problems when there were monuments about him
Renato Constantino
● Veneration without understanding Rizal
Jose Rizal
● José Protacio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda
● He can be seen on one peso coin
● Has the highest grades until the likes of Claro M. Recto arrived in the scene
● Brother: Paciano Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda
● Parents: Francisco Rizal Mercado y Alejandro and Teodora Alonso Realonda y
Quintos
● Born: June 19, 1861, Calamba, Laguna
● Died: December 30, 1896, Rizal Park, Manila before ay Avenida Park
● He is the national hero of the Philippines
● Jose Rizal’s “My Last Farewell”: Poetry
● Rizal “Dos Diarios De Juventud (1882-1884)”: Essay
Dapitan: 1892-1896
● His last 4 years were spent in Dapitan
● Different side of Rizal because he had his school, he picked the best students and he
was teaching them for free. He gave free medical services to the poor, and he was a
man of projects.
● Andres Bonifcaios sent Dr. Pio Valenzuela pretending to have a check-up but the
truth was Andres Bonifcaio wanted to know Rizal’s perspective on the Revolution.
● He realized that it is not only through political aspects that we can change the
Philippines. Perhaps he thought tht many other things or aspects in society can be
focused on, and that he can contribute his efforts and skills to make those changes
come true.
● He has no money, no equipment, no rich people, and no European Union has his
back.
● He returned to Manila on August 1896 because he was going to Cuba as there is a
revolution there and he would give his service as a doctor.
○ August 30, 1896, Rizal arrived. The most famous Filipino is in Manila
Bay and all of a sudden the revolution began. What would Spaniards
think? In his trial in December, they said It is not a coincidence.
○ He arrived in Spain on October 3, 1896 and he waited for three days
inside a boat, he went off just for a half day and he was sent back then he
was jailed.
○ November 3, 1896, he returned to Manila and was imprisoned in Fort
Santiago.
Jose Rizal
● He is not just a monument in Luneta, he is relevant not because he is a superhuman
or because his talent is unique or because he is a prophet. He is relevant because it
seems that there is still no change in our society. We still did not erase the social
issues Rizal presented in his works. That’s why in the article of Constantino, he says
we need to make Rizal irrelevant. -Dr. Maria Serena I. Diokno
● We have to change a lot and that idea is very Rizalian. And we are not paying
attention to it. His real target is the ethical change of the Filipino. He says that the
redemption of the Philippines presupposes virtue and virtue presupposes sacrifice,
and sacrifice presupposes love. Virtue, sacrifice and love. His meaning of love is love
of country. -Paul Dumol
● He has such high regard for his own country, his own nation. I think we should also
do the same. Rizal’s life was brimming with fullness. He loved so much. He did so
much. He started so many things. Rizal lived a fuller life than we imagine. That’s a
good reason for us to emulate him. But his full life was at the service of something
higher. -John Nery
● Imbue Rizal’s LIFE VALUES for: education, love, and pride in work, excellence, etc.
○ Life Values the fundamental core beliefs that guide your behaviors and goals
and help you measure your overall success in your life. For many people,
values begin in childhood as their parents teach them some of what they
believe to be the most important life values.