Welcome to our series where we dust off relics from the past, dive into their stories, and dream about how they might fit into the future.
For our first installment, we’re zooming in on the hauntingly beautiful ruins of the Old St. Michael the Archangel Parish Church in the charming town in Central Luzon called Camiling. Once lovingly called the “Old Lady of the Northwestern Province of Tarlac,” Camiling’s rich history dates back to 1838, when it officially separated from its mother town, Paniqui.
As you drive through the town center—the bayan—you’re hit with the unmistakable feel of provincia: dusty roads, quaint corner stores, accesoria houses, and a lively central market bustling with life. At the heart of it all is a grand plaza, which still follows the classic Spanish reducción plan. Right beside the grand plaza stands the remains of a once-majestic church—a solemn reminder of the grandeur that once was.
Being the curious history nerd that I am, I dug into its story. Several records suggest the Dominicans initially built the church in the late 1840s under Fr. Juan Luis, OP, and was officially inaugurated in 1863 during the term of Fr. Angel Gomez, OP. Despite its solid baroque architecture, the church was heavily damaged by the infamous earthquake of 1880. The Dominicans restored it and became a beloved landmark of the community.
The church withstood the ravages of World War II, only to be tragically gutted by a fire on April 13, 1997. According to a few Facebook comments, it happened right after a Sunday service. Restoration efforts kicked off but eventually fizzled by 2003. By 2004, a new church was built nearby, while the old structure was left as a silent witness to history, still standing but battered.
Walking around, you can imagine how imposing it must have felt when it was whole. Standing where the altar once stood, you can still feel a sense of grandeur—the kind meant to inspire belief in something bigger. This church holds a special place in my heart, too; it’s where my parents were married, just a few years before the fire. Now, standing where they would’ve exchanged vows, I felt a strange mix of nostalgia and awe. Even in its worn state, the church still has a way of moving me.
Feeling nosy, I struck up conversations with a few of the older locals, and after some digging, I learned that Camiling was once a true “grand old lady.” This wasn’t just any town; it was a place full of history, with figures who left their mark on Philippine culture.
There was General Carlos Romulo, the first non-American to win a Pulitzer Prize and a former President of the UN General Assembly; Justice Cesar Bengzon, who became the 9th Chief Justice and the first Filipino appointed to the International Court of Justice, and Dr. Onofre Corpuz, a former Minister of Education and National Scientist. And let’s not forget Leonor Rivera, the inspiration for Rizal’s Maria Clara, who added a touch of romance to Camiling’s legacy. A claim even suggests that Camiling was the inspiration for the fictional town of San Diego in Noli Me Tangere.
Learning all this, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad. All these luminaries—these cultural giants—came from here, yet today their once-proud town is filled with potholes, overgrown weeds in the plaza, and a neglected grand church.
The locals reminisced about the days when the town’s landmarks were vibrant, not relics. The old ancestral houses, with their intricate woodwork and timeless architecture, symbolized a prosperous past. And the Old St. Michael the Archangel Parish Church was the heart of it all—a place of faith, family, and community, just as it was for my parents.
So, here’s the question: What can be done to bring back some of that old grandeur?
Not to sound like a know-it-all, but a good first step wouldn’t necessarily be a full restoration of the old church. Let’s be real; that would be incredibly costly. Instead, why not just open up the ruins to the public? A little love and care would go a long way: clear out the overgrown weeds, make the space more inviting, and maybe even open up the view out front. Moving the vendor stands elsewhere would also help restore a sense of dignity to the site.
In the long run, it would be amazing if the local government got on board, branding the town as “Historic Camiling.” Getting heritage advocates and preservation groups involved could turn this forgotten gem into a small but meaningful tourist destination.
Imagine a fine balance between preservation and cultural vibrancy. This is Camiling, and she could tell her story to a whole new generation of visitors.
