A Night at the Procession, Jan. 9th

 

We don our church organization uniform – white, collared tee-shirt with logos front and back. We forgo taking light dinner. We brush our teeth, put on cologne, and head to Church on our sturdy SUV.

The Church is still half-full; we find other members of our group neatly seated in pews at the left side of the main altar.

Our congregation is readying itself to mimic the translacion which is happening at the moment at the heart of Manila.

Translacion is the yearly procession that re-enacts the original procession which brought the image of the Black Nazarene from its original location (now Rizal Park or Luneta) to the Quiapo Church in Manila, now known as the Basilica Minore of the Black Nazarene.

Today, there are about 5 million Filipino men and women, most of them barefoot, inching their way along the narrow streets of downtown Manila – jostling to get nearer the Andas  (the carriage that carries the Black Nazarene) – many of them being pushed and shoved forward by bodies unknown to them. In fact, one member of the Hijos de Nazareno died this morning, from exhaustion and a heart attack.

Our translacion  in our Parish is no match to the one taking place in Quiapo. Last year, the first year our church’s version of translacion took place, there were more people, and after the procession, the owner of the Black Nazarene hosted a thanksgiving dinner at the church’s Social Action Center.

In the Quiapo area, rich and ordinary families provide food and refreshment to the devotees. The atmosphere is that of a fiesta. Some individuals throw in money as thanksgiving for answered prayers.

Our local priest, Fr. Vic, answers the question many people ask: why are the Filipinos so devoted to the Black Nazarene, and in a fanatical way, at that?

He refers to the Gospel reading of the day where a man diseased with leprosy, an outcast of society, forced his way near the Jesus of Nazareth and declared, “ Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean.”  And Jesus said, “ I do choose. Be made clean.”

The devotees of the Black Nazarene, like the Leper, force their way to get near the Image, or throw their towels to be wiped onto the Nuestro Senor Nazareno, because their faith and devotion tell them that they, too, will be healed by Jesus, no matter what their station in life is. It is all about “pananampalataya,” (faith), the priest says.

We light our candles and move with the other devotees. Our church’s own version of translacion is unique in its own way : low key, no fanfare, less candles, shorter route.

But all that matters is in the heart of the faithful.

Christmas in a Barrio.

In the tiny town where my father grew up - up north in a province called Nueva Ecja - the houses that lined the street leading to the main Church were built of wood and nipas.

The barrio used to be called Papaya until 1957,  is now known as General Tinio. A first class municipality, it boasts of a population of 42,634 people.

The town is at the foot of the Sierra Madre Mountain, adjoining the Fort Magsaysay Army Reservation on the east side.

Nipa comes from the palm family of plants, and because it is the major component of the house, the house built out of it had been called a Nipa Hut.  It is a type of  stilt house indigenous to most of the lowland cultures of the Philippines.


But these houses soon disappeared as families in our barrio slowly upgraded into modern structures built of cement and steel. Then the boom years quickly happened as residents found work overseas, and today, the houses leading up to the main church are big, grandiose and affluent.

What about the church?

The church which was located in the Town Plaza and where we attended mass during Christmas and town fiestas has become the second church. It is called Sto. Cristo. 

Sto. Cristo Church, where burial masses are now held

In the mid-90's,  the Holy Cross Church was built, farther from the center of politics (the Municipal Hall) and still farther from the nexus of trade (the local wet market). The new church is fondly called "simbahang bago," (new church) by the locals.

Holy Cross Church, bigger and newer church in General Tinio, Nueva Ecija

Interior of the Holy Cross Church

The Sto. Cristo Church and the Holy Cross Church are under the Roman Catholic Diocese of Cabanatuan.

La Immaculada Concepcion.

La Immaculada Concepcion of Pasig

Yesterday, December 8th, the Catholic faithful commemorated the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It is one of only three official Holidays of Obligation celebrated by the Catholics in the Philippines, the other two being Christmas Day and the Solemnity of Mary on January 1st.

I remember a story my mother told us when we were young, which revolved around this particular feast.

On December 8, 1941, my mother and my father, her two sisters, her parents and brother in law were in the house of a first cousin and they were happily dining with other relatives and friends. It was the town fiesta in Pasig, a town (now a City) east of Manila.

The center of the Fiesta in Pasig is the Pasig Cathedral which is called the Immaculada Concepcion, built by the Augustinians on July 2, 1573, some fifty one years after the Philippine Islands became Christians by virtue of the coming of the Spaniards in 1521.

The Pasig Cathedral built in 1573

Initially, the Parish was consecrated to the Visitation of Our Lady but in April 25, 1587, was changed to the Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, the patroness of the Augustinians during that time. 

On August 21, 2003, the Roman Catholic Diocese of Pasig was inaugurated and the Parish was elevated into the status of a Cathedral.

On that fateful day in 1941, the town of Pasig was, like in the past many years, focused on the day's festivities - mass, procession, parades, games, beauty pageant, eating, drinking and merrymaking. The Pasig fiesta was one of the grandest in the the province of Rizal, after all.

My mother said, " biglang nagkagulo at nagsigawan ang mga tao, giyera na, giyera na." (the people started to become restless and started shouting, " it's wartime, it's wartime"). Yes, it was the start of World War II, because the Japanese Imperial Army attacked without provocation the United States Naval Base in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. ( The attack occured on Dec. 7 Hawaii- time and Dec 8 in Japan and the Philippines). The Philippines, being under the Commonwealth of the United States, was dragged into the destructive war.

US and Filipino soldiers during WW II in Manila

My grandfather and countless relatives and friends of my parents suffered and/or died during this War.

That was 73 years ago. My mother and most of the relatives who celebrated that 1941 Fiesta with her are all gone. But everytime the Feast of the Immaculate Conception is celebrated, the story as told by my mother comes to mind.

Discipleship

Bring Back the Pieces

There's an old song by the Spiral Staircase with the lyrics,

"Bring back the pieces of a broken man babe
He’s sorry can’t you see
Bring back the pieces of the broken man
you’re every part of me"

If you just read the lyrics without knowing the song, it could very well be a prayer, just  say "Babe Jesus, instead of just "babe."

When song writers write their lyrics and simple folks sing their songs, there's a lot of emotion into the action.  Lyricists draw from their experiences. Singers and ordinary people draw from theirs, too.

In prayer, we connect with God, Our Creator, the one who redeemed and continually forgives us for all our misdeeds and sins.

In private prayer, we are in a direct dialogue, we sing silently, giving praise, pleading for pardon, seeking favours.

God works miracles. If you are broken hearted, He puts the broken pieces back and makes you whole again. You can move on, you can go on loving and living again.

If you sinned, and ask for forgiveness, He says it's alright, my child, I forgive you. 

Please include GOD IN YOUR LIFE.  Without Him, you don't have a Father to protect you, to cheer you up, to mend whatever hurts you.

Homeless,

When I worked in New York many years ago, I saw the sad truth of homelessness. At the subway stop at 33rd, in the dark recesses of it, one could make out the presence of homeless people not through their shadows but through their stink. Smell of dried urine and of un-washed bodies and clothing.

There was a New York City woman who put a name to homelessness, who became its poster girl. Her name was Billie Boggs. She was forcibly taken into a homeless shelter and out of a ritzy Manhattan neighbourhood because she was considered a "loony." 

In Toronto, one such homeless person was Paul Croutch. He was beaten to death in 2005 by three Army reservists one night as he laid in a cold bench in a Toronto Park. Mr. Croutch had been the co-publisher of a weekly paper in northern B.C. in the late 1980s.  Nobody claimed his body, not  his daughter nor his ex-wife.

In Manila, homeless folks sleep under bridges and highway overpass, in sidewalks and even cemetery tombs. Recently, an 11-month old baby girl was abducted, raped and killed while she slept with her parents in a make-shift tent outside a bank building in one of Manila's congested cities.

Homelessness. No one notices it, until it hits the headlines. 

Shepherd.

If I were to draw the portraits of the priests that had made an impression on me, the very first would be that of the priest of my pre-teen.

He was the picture of a fatherly priest - bespectacled, in his early fifties, always smiling, and warm. He used to come to the house of my grand aunt to have lunch, listen to an uncle play the piano, and even go for some rounds of mahjong (Chinese card game played with ivory tiles) with my Lola, aunts and uncles. He was an Aglipayan priest.

Next is the priest who baptized me as a Catholic. He was a Dominican, and a friendly one whom the children found approachable. His name and that of my uncle-godfather were the same, Roberto.

Other priests who made an impression on me were two Belgian priests of my high school years. One was our principal, a rotund, expressionless, forty-something priest, rather stern with us students, whom we regard with awe. He was Belgian but spoke clear English.

The other was a teacher in our Religion class. He was tall, frail, with boyish smile and ways, and although his English was spoken with strong Flemish accent, we listened to him intently and found religion class very interesting. To high school students of those years, this interest in religion was rather news.

It took many years to find another priest who made quite a mark on me. It was a young priest in Ohio that stood out in my mind - an affable, Irish priest with excellent singing voice. His voice boomed as he sang "Bless be the Lord."  He delivered good homily and the last I heard, he was made principal of a Catholic school in an adjacent city to where I used to live.

A co-priest of this Irish priest was an Italian priest who was  an excellent homilist. He would come down from the altar and would deliver his homily at the centre aisle, making his sermon more intimate and understandable.

In Canada, there was a Filipino-Canadian priest who stayed briefly in our Parish, but whom I found remarkable. He was a corporate guy before he joined the priesthood, he told us one time we invited him for lunch in our house. He was witty, he was humorous, and his homilies were always something to look forward to during the mass.

Another Filipino-Canadian priest I came to admire was a priest who came from a rich family back in Manila. He was articulate, sang beautifully, and initiated many things in our Parish which made our small church vibrant and up-to-date in musical instrument, worship books, and parish attendance.

This priest was so good he was made Parish priest of a new church and he told the congregation that the Bishop asked him to personally choose the name of the church.

There are so many good priests around. Their task is so important and daunting especially in this era where man is consumed with material things and look for source of joy in the wrong places.

These priests are our new shepherds. We look up to them to bring us closer to God, not to alienate us from the Church.