Mary's Month of May

The month of May is a very special month in our family. It is the birthday month of five of my siblings.

May 9, 11, 12, 14 and 23. One niece also celebrates hers on the 12th. The Fiesta of our town in Nueva Ecija also falls on May 12th, so does the Fiesta in Santa Ana, Manila (Feast of St. Anne), where I spent my childhood years.

May is the merriest month in the Philippines. That's because it is summertime; so most town fiestas occur on this month. The annual Santa Cruzan is also held on this month, which is a Catholic tradition of commemorating the journey to find the crucifix of Jesus by King Constantine and her mother, Queen Helena.

According to historical accounts, Constantine, the emperor of Rome some thousand years ago, dreamt that he should go to the battle field to fight in the name of the Holy Cross. He conquered his enemy and that victory led to his conversion to Christianity. He became the first Christian emperor in history. His mother, Queen Helena, was inspired by all these experiences and in the year 326 A.D., she went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land to seek the Holy Cross, the wooden cross on which Christ was supposed to have been nailed. She successfully found the Holy Cross, complete with its inscription `INRI` on its top.

Thus, the religious Santa Cruzan procession is a re-enactment of the finding of the Holy Cross by Reyna Elena.

Of course, May is the month of the Blessed Virgin Mary. So, in Catholic churches worldwide, there would be a twelve-day novena and floral offerings to Mother Mary, and which would culminate in the Flores de Mayo in the Philippines, the official May procession held by Philippine catholic parishes.

Corollary to this Catholic tradition is the neighbourhood procession called Lutrina. Originally, the Lutrina was meant to be festivities and rituals related to the the planting season which occurs in May.

The alay originally came from the very ancient past when young girls, always the symbol of purity and renewal, went to the sacred caves to offer garlands of flowers to the anito or the spirits of the forefathers. Then, it was reconfigured into the Christian tradition, and alay became the offering of the young for the Holy Virgin, then the offerings were replaced by flowers.

The lutrina, or the prayers were originally uttered by farmers as they walked through barren fields, were pleadings for the first rain. These days, the 12-day lutrina would culminate into the Santa Cruzan, where neighbourhood beauties - young girls and dalagitas - become sagalas. The last of the sagalas is always the Emperatris or Reyna Elena with her little constantino.

Nowadays, in many small nooks of Santa Ana and Mandaluyong, countless lutrinas are being held in May. But when I was growing up in one particular Santa Ana neighbourhood, there was only one lutrina, and it was started by my Lola. It was always started on May 14th, the birthday of one of my sisters. So, all my sisters and cousins, at one time or another, became "sagalas" in this Santa Cruzan and also in theFlores de Mayo.
This is also the reason, why we townsfolk of Punta and Mandaluyong, could eloquently sing the "Dios te Salve Maria."

Here in Toronto, the Filipino Catholic Mission (previously called the Filipino Chaplaincy) celebrates its own Santa Cruzan. At the old chaplaincy, we used to participate in the procession, where young Filipino- Canadian girls and boys donned their gowns and barongs, and the procession would take on the route around the high-rise apartment buildings and a park to the accompaniment of a Banda Filipino or musiko.

Welcome to my First Day

Good day to all.

My name is Gener. Family members call me Gene. Those very close to me call me Oz. You can call me a brother.

I started this blog today, May 24th, Ascension Sunday. It is the day when Our Lord Jesus Christ has been taken up into heaven and we believe that He sits at the right of Our God the father.

While I started another blog called Lucky Canary at http://www.luckycanary.blogspot.com/, a while back, I felt a call to write a blog that captures my Catholic faith - its rites, events and practises. Already, my original blog had posts devoted to Philippine Catholic practises.

For starters, let me tell you that I am not a very religious person. As a child, I was first baptized an Aglipayan, in a church in the Philippines. Aglipayan, to those not familiar to it, is a Philippine Christian denomination with very close affinity to the Catholic religion, in its rites and practices.

Now called The Philippine Independent Church, officially the Iglesia Filipina Independiente (IFI) (also known as the Philippine Independent Catholic Church), Aglipayan is a Christian denomination of the Catholic tradition in the form of a national church.

The church was founded by Isabelo de los Reyes in 1902 and made Gregorio Aglipay, a dissilusioned Catholic priest, its head.

Aglipayan grew at an unprecedented growth from that time onwards because the Filipinos resented the Spaniards for its more than 300 years of repressive rule. Then, membership declined. Today, there are about 3 million Aglipayans throughout the Southeast Asian Peninsula of the Philippines, making it the country's second largest Christian church. It has members in the United States and Canada.

My mother's family is Aglipayan, and my father's, Catholic. There was even a topic, hushed mostly by my mother, that my maternal grandfather was a Mason.

But being so intertwined and similar to each other, these two religions and churches were but one to me...to us. While growing up, me and my siblings didn't really consider ourselves Aglipayans nor Catholics. We were foremost, Christians. Thus, even while baptized as Aglipayans, we - me, my siblings, mother and aunts, worshipped freely in both churches.

When I was about to start high school, I was baptized in the Catholic church, and thus now, I am a practising Catholic. All of us in our family are now practising Catholics.

I look forward to posting blogs that will talk about Christian religious practises, events, peoples and places, with a focus on Philippine Catholic practises.

I hope to see you along the way.

Serendipity

I remember watching the movies, Serendipity and A Knight's Tale, while on a plane travelling home to the Philippines.

Both movies tackle the tale of love. In Serendipity, John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale met at a New York department store while buying the same present for their loved ones, and immediately felt an attraction towards each other; but the girl decided to allow fate to take control of their future.

In A Knight's Tale, Ledger's character (William Thatcher) posed as a knight after his Lord died, and joined the "jousting" matches. In the process, he found the girl, Jocelyn, and his good fortune (befriending Edward, the Black Prince of Wales and Geoffrey Chaucer) of finally having a real knighthood bestowed on him. He also found his long lost father.

So, I found myself debating what the Tagalog word for serendipity is. All I could think of is ala suerte, or masuwerteng tadhana, but now, I think both phrases do not capture the true meaning and essence of the word serendipity.

Then this ancient story came back to mind. A story of a young boy who was constantly crying because he thought his father loved his younger brother more than he loved him. Whenever his brother got a toy, little Boy would grab it from him.

One day, after a long family trip, the little boy cried again. This time it was because his kid brother would not give him a piece of candy. He howled and cursed, until his father whipped him with a leather belt.

The little boy cursed even more, and threatened to run away from home. He went up to his room, put several clothes in a blanket, and checked the wound on his stomach which the belt lashing left.

He felt so sorry for himself. He then climbed on the bed's wooden headboard and reached for the bottle of oil kept on an upper cabinet, to soothe his wound.

A candle was burning on the altar beside the bed and as the boy reached higher, his legs quivered and he fell on the altar. When he did, his t-shirt caught fire. It was a new shirt, a gift from his mother.

The candle flame singed the shirt and produced a hole. Terrified, the young boy stood up and saw the icons looking at him from the altar. Somehow, he lost the gall to run away. It was the day after Christmas.

Sometimes when you're not seeking, you find the best.

There were some serendipitous moments in this blogger's life.

And as the days of our lives unfold, I hope there could be more.

Is there a serendipity in your life? Tell me.

This post was originally posted in my other blog: www.luckycanary.blogspot.com

Visita Iglesia

Left, St. James' Cathedral, Santiago de Compostela
Below, Nuestra Senora del Pilar, Zaragoza

If one is doing the Visita Iglesia, he is expected to visit at least seven churches and up to a maximum of fourteen. What is Visita Iglesia?

Visita Iglesia is another old Lenten tradition in the Philippines. It takes place on the Maundy Thursday of the Semana Santa (Holy Week). As tradition has it, Visita Iglesia commences at sunset and ends in the early hours of Good Friday.

In the area in Mandaluyong where I grew up, there are two churches: the Roman Catholic Church of San Felipe Neri, and the Philippine Independent Church (Aglipayan). These two churches shared somewhat similar religious practises and rituals, and so during the Semana Santa, such similarities gave rise to minor discomfort among the many residents who lived within the two parishes. Here, I am talking about the scheduling of the procession, and no other.

So as not to create a traffic disaster and an issue, which we kids, called "harangan" (cutting of, as in bad driving) the two churches decided to hold Holy Week processions on two different days. One, I think the Catholics, had theirs on a Wednesday and the Aglipays, on a Thursday. But , of course, on Good Friday, both churches held their respective procession on the same evening.

We kids considered these two processions as a competition. It was normal for us to hear murmurs among the crowd - those bystanders - giving their two-cent worth opinion as to which among the two churches had the better "carosas" or statues.

A Lola (grand aunt) of ours had a Santa Veronica in these processions and a maternal grand uncle owned the Magdalena. So a few hours before dusk, the people living in our street would be enthralled by the passing of these two saints, clad in their best colorful outfit and with hair as silky as the moon and as yellow as the sun - riding high on their ornate "carosas" and leaving behind the scent of sampaguita, ylang ylang and champaca.

Once the procession left the church, we scrambled and picked which saint to follow. Me and my siblings always followed Veronica; but sometimes, we trailed also Magdalena, especially if the scent of the "karburo," the chemical which powered the lights of Veronica, started to bother our nostrils.

For us, the Visita Iglesia started after the procession had ended. Next to our church, we would visit the Santa Ana Church, and sometimes, we went as far as the San Miguel Church which is located near the Malacanang Palace.

Sadly, the practise of Visita Iglesia is not observed in North America. Here in Canada, the Maundy Thursday church service is celebrated in the evening, unlike in the Philippines where it takes place in the morning. Thus, our Maundy Thursday service is held at seven and as it is celebrated throughout the whole Christendom, consists of the commemoration of the Lord's Last Supper.

And unlike also in the Philippines, we start our long Easter weekend, not on Holy Wednesday, but on Good Friday. Offices are closed on Good Friday and for most, returning to work is on the following Tuesday.

This post was originally posted in my other blog: www.luckycanary.blogspot.com

Pabasa - A Lenten Ritual in the Philippines

One happy memory of my childhood is the annual Pabasa ng Pasyon. Pabasa, an oral remembrance/recitation/singing of the passion of Christ and is one of the most unique and valued ways the Filipinos observe Lent. It usually takes place during the Semana Santa (Holy Week).

Here in Toronto, Canada, a Pabasa is held by the Filipino Chaplaincy/Mission. The chaplaincy which used to be housed at the Blessed John XXIII church was later transferred to the Our Lady of Assumption Church in Bathurst.

In our extended family, once you learned how to read you immediately became a member of the singing group.

Our Pabasa was hosted by our maternal Grand Aunt, who was fondly called Lola Ebya (Eusebia). It was held for many years in her grandiose house in Santa Ana, in a section of the house resembling a small chapel.

It housed life-sized statues and icons of several saints and patrons which included a Santa Veronica, which participated in the yearly processions of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and I believe, the Easter dawn-Salubong.

My Lola’s pabasa was always held on a Holy Monday. It would start in the early evening or mid-afternoon and finish the following day at three in the afternoon. So it meant continuous singing of verses describing the life, suffering and death of Christ. This continuous singing also meant non-stop eating. The singers and participants had to be fed; if not, like the canaries, their voices would weaken.

My Lola’s pabasa was usually attended by relatives, friends and members of the church which we attended. I distinctly remember one singer, an old woman named Aling Gundina, whose voice was opera-sounding and we, kids looked forward to imitating her after the pabasa had ended.

The food for these pabasas consisted of fiesta-like dishes, but what I loved most was the lumpiang sariwa (fresh vegetable roll) with lots of minced garlic and the suman sa lihiya, a native dessert of sweet glutinous rice wrapped in green banana leaves; such food and kakanins prepared out of the large kusina by old ladies who would not let you in.

My mother and two aunts had fairly good pabasa voices. And one uncle in-law could wow the crowd with his Cenon Lagman voice. But we, young ones would be sitting at the back of the room, boldly singing, only as soon as the crowd had thinned, usually in those hours after lunch and early hours of Holy Tuesday.

Back then, the use of microphones and loud speakers was unknown. But with participants honed over the years in the pabasa-style singing, the need for these equipment did not exist. It was usual to have various mini-sections in the big singing group, who would compete in the singing; some would intentionally prolong singing some words and phrases, and some would abruptly switch to another tono (tune) to catch the attention of the large crowd or to simply awaken those who were ready to fall asleep.

At home, my mother would start her own basa ng pasyon as soon as Cuaresma (Lent) commenced on Ash Wednesday, and we all had to participate at various days and times, to enable the family to finish the whole book, by Good Friday.

Today, I am quite sure that my mother is softly singing the Pasyon in the privacy of her room in the Philippines. She no longer goes to the official basahan ng pasyon as her eyesight is no longer as sharp as before, and alas, some apos (grandchildren) have lost touch with a beautiful Philippine Christian tradition.

Posted by Gener Fajardo Pagkanlungan at 8:16 AM

Everyone is a Pilgrim.

It's good to be back home!

I've been away for 14 days, joining thirty-nine other individuals on a pilgrimage that took us from Toronto, Canada to Portugal, Spain and France.

Our group left Toronto-Pearson International Airport on the 27th of September and landed on Lisbon (Lisboa), in Portugal on the 28th. Upon landing, a tour guide, Felipa, gave us a city tour of Lisbon, taking us to the beautiful Cathedral, to the many streets that tell of Portugal's colorful political history and to the ocean-river front which boasts of a huge sculpture showing the legendary Portuegese navigators.

From Lisbon, we were driven to the quaint and miraculous town of Fatima, where the Blessed Virgin Mother appeared before three shepherd-children named Lucia de Jesus, and Francisco and Jacinta Marto, on May 13, 1917.

The site of the apparition is now a Basilica. We stayed here for two days, lodging at the Fatima Hotel, a stone's throw away from the Shrine.

Hearing mass at the Chapel of the Apparition is a dream come true for me. Saying the Rosary and participating in the evening procession with hundreds of other faithful in the site where the Blessed Virgin Mother appeared makes one's heart inflamed with love and adoration for the Mother of the Church, and leaves one utterly happy.

From Fatima, our next stop was Santiago de Compostela in Spain. We arrived in this city in the mid-afternoon and was greeted by a mild autumn weather. Here we were met by a male tour guide who immediately took us to a walking tour of the Basilica of St. James (Santiago). The church's courtyard was expansive and we saw pilgrims from other parts of Spain who've walked from their destinations up to Santiago de Compostela, bearing canes.

Some of these pilgrims rested on the church grounds, lying on their backs. There was a lovely fountain behind the Basilica.

St. James was the first apostle of Christ to be killed for his faith. He was beheaded and his remains are buried in the Basilica.

The stay at Santiago de Compostela was brief for the very next morning, we drove to Salamanca. Salamanca is a magnificent place! Here, the heart of the city is the Plaza Mayor, a 15th century courtyard which is presently adorned with open cafes and world class boutiques. Cost of real estate here runs at fifteen hundred Euro per square feet.

When we arrived at Salamanca it was time for lunch, about two in the afternoon. What we discovered and were not prepared for was...the siesta! All the shops and restaurants were closed. Luckily, we found a bakery still open so we purchased a baguette and some drinks and headed back to our Hotel to open a can of tuna.

For the following day, our tour guide brought us to several churches and universities. In Salamanca, the newest churches have been built in the 15th century. Even their Cathedral has two sections, the old and the new.

I love Salamanca because it is so ancient. It breathes history, it breathes the past - when the church was just beginning. It takes one heart to where great novels and love stories have been inspired.

The streets are narrow, and winding and littered with open cafes, curio boutiques and souvenir shops.

On our sixth day, we departed for Madrid, the capital of Espana. Enroute, we stopped at the fortress city of Avila, the birthplace of St. Theresa. Avila is captivating with its smallness and cleanliness and efficiency.

Here, we had free time for lunch, so we dined at a Japanese restaurant, where the waitress is a Japanese girl who only speaks Catalan. For 6.50 Euro, we had two plates, a choice of wine or coffee and dessert.

Coming from Santiago de Compostela and Salamanca, Madrid immediately presents a direct contrast to the two. Madrid is cosmopolitan, has wide streets, open spaces and lots of gardens.
Before Madrid, the capital of Spain had been Toledo. When Madrid was made capital, the aristocrats of Toledo gave up their houses and donated them to the church, and moved to Madrid to be near the King.

Toledo is another fortress-town like Avila. Driving up to it, one would be in awe of the magnificence of its walls looming high and looking all gallant. Rightly so, because the fortress had been built to protect the town from the enemies - the moors. Toledo shows a lot of the moorish infuence - the churches especially. Toledo in the 9th century had been in the hands of the moors. Towards the end of the trip to Toledo, we visited a shop where beautiful swords and jewelry are being handmade until today.

Back in Madrid, we got up early to see the National Palace (the official residence of the King). Security was tight, similar to an airport security, for practical reasons. Because the present King (Juan Carlos and Queen Sophia) has a second residence, the Palace is open to the general public.

The National Palace is where royal functions for visiting foreign dignitaries are held. It boasts of having 2,800 rooms and a capacity to give dinner for 1500 people.

We were shown some of the 2,800 rooms, and were they awesome! Furniture, chandeliers, clocks, mirrors, rugs were beyond description for their oppulence. There was even one room where there was a huge tapestry in which Spain's colonies were included and showed Las Islas Filipinas.

In a little museum, I also saw a crucifix labeled " anonimo Los Filipino." This was probably made or donated by a Filipino.

On Oct. 4, the pilgrimage headed to Zaragoza, another romantic and ancient town of Spain. We were greeted by a happy noise in the plaza as it was the day of the big fiesta. It was lunchtime so we headed to find a restaurant.. and were lucky to locate a cosy one. One group from our pilgrimage who only spoke English had difficulty understanding the Spanish menu and asked for our group's help (eight Filipinos in a group of 40 pilgrims). We happily obliged.

Also in this restaurant, I found San Miguel Beer being served, so I happily ordered one with my lunch of calamares, dry-fried fish and potato fries. That was 8.50 Euros for lucnh and I think 2.50 Euros for my San Mig.

In the Basilica of the Nuestra Senora del Pilar (Our Lady of the Pillar), we found the flag of the Philippines pinned to the wall near the grand altar and underneath the caption, Filipinas, one among the many countries which were colonized by Mother Spain.

In the evening, we headed back to the town plaza for dinner and to participate in the fiesta. But before this, heading to our hotel for a check-in took a lot of effort because the parade was already taking place at around 5 pm. Thousands of people dressed in different colorful scarves and hats, which I think signify different ethnicities, walked and paraded, gulping alcoholic punch, and singing and laughing to the tune of different marching bands (musikos).

Going back to the plaza in the evening, we just walked and even got lost for a while. Our priest, Fr. Tad, had the right to get lost, because of all the merriment happening all around us. Dinner was superb! We had a buffet with lots of selection. Of course there was the famous Spanish paella and the ever present vin rogue. After dinner, we walked with the revellers and stopped to listen to street singers and performers. This was an exciting and beautiful evening to end our tour of Espana.

The next day, we started our journey to France.

Going to Lourdes, France, our able coach driver, Antonio, took us via the Pyreenes Mountain. The trek was exhilarating as one views the Pyreenes majestically towering above farms where cows and horses roam freely. The top of the Pyreenes are capped with snow at this early autumn October. Ski lodges dot the scenery.

Upon arrival at Lourdes, we were greeted by narrow streets, even more treacherous than the ones in Spain. At some intersections, tourist coaches had to give in to one another just to pass by.

Our hotel, Hotel Aneto, was an old structure and sparse. The view though at the balcony was magnificent. Finding a restaurant to have lunch proved to be another challenge as it was already siesta time. Walking and asking around, we met with others in our group and were told that the only ones opened are those at the Hotels, and were only serving those checked-in. Our group of 8 Filipinos asked a souvenir seller who spoke a sputtering of English, and were told to cross two bridges to reach the rows of restaurants and souvenirs which never close for siesta. Two others from our group joined us and we headed to a French resto, and we enjoyed French Pizza, sandwiches, and for me, a French beer and after that, a crepe.

In the late afternoon, our pilgrimage headed to the Lourdes Shrine for a mass at the chapel in the crypt. It was a small cathedral atop the chapel of St. Anne.

After mass, we explored the whole shrine, taking in the Grotto where the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared before Bernadette. The statue of the Immaculate Conception stands prominently underneath the massive stones, where pilgrims walk through, touching the stone.

At the front of the cathedral is another statue of the Immaculate Conception. A massive gold-gilded crown adorn the top-frontage of this cathedral, and in the early morn, before sunrise, the lighted crown, presents a mysterious, holy, overpowering sight to the pilgrim.

The next day, we were back at the Lourdes shrine for an early morning mass. Our mass had been re-scheduled at 9:30 am and because of the free time, we headed to the place where pilgrims are given a healing bath. There was a long line up at this hour and we were late as gates had been closed. After mass, instead of going to the Way of the Cross, our Filipino-Canadian group decided to wait in line for the afternoon bath, which was to start at 2pm. We were at the line at 11:30 am, which was already quickly piling up, especially the line for female pilgrims.

Inside the bath were curtained dressing areas. For males, two individuals would be called in, and you will undress with underwear left on. You will then be led into another curtained cubicle, where two male volunteers (hospital workers) will wrap around a loin cloth after you strip, and will lead you into the tub filled with very cold clear water from the miraculous fountain. You will be asked to say your prayers and petition, and will be asked to go to the very front of the stone tub. Holding you at each hand, the two volunteers will then dip your whole body underneath the cold water, leaving your head and face up. After the quick dip, I was given a cold drink from the fount and was presented with an image of the Immaculate Conception, which I kissed. Afterthat, you get dressed up withour wiping the water from your body. Though the water was immensely cold, it dries up quickly and found myself warm as I walked out of the bath, into the open air, where two in my group were already waiting.

After our bath, we went to the Way of the Cross located up a hill, and later joined the procession, for a Healing Mass which took place in a chapel located underneath the street. In the evening was a procession.

You cannot leave Lourdes without taking or drinking water from the many faucets connected to the original fountain. This is where St. Bernadette was told by Our Lady to eat grass and drink water, which during the time of the apparition consisted of muddy water.

St. Bernadette at the time of the apparition was thirteen years old and uneducated. The Bishop, when Bernadette asked that a chapel be built as requested by the "thing," did not believe her. He kept asking her, go ask who she is, and Bernadette kept on telling, she is the "thing." Finally, Bernadette told the Bishop: she is the Immaculate Conception.

Today, St. Bernadette's body lies incorrupted outside the town of Lourdes.

By October 7th, we flew out of the Pau airport to reach our last destination, the city of Paris.

Gay Paris is the city of Napoleon Bonaparte. The ever present Seine river is a landmark, so is the Eiffel Tower, the Louve museum, the Trumph Elysee, and many French bistros and sidewalk cafes. We first visited the cathedral of Notre Dame, then had lunch of crepe.

In the evening we were given a city tour showcasing the city in its lighted splendour - the city of lights - Paris!

In the morning, we visited the Mont Matre Church, where there was a choice of using the overhead elevator car instead of the steep stone stairs, and then, heard mass at the Miraculous Medal church where St. Catherine Lavoure is interred, her body in the same condition as when she was originally buried. In the afternoon, we were back, exploring the city, taking pictures by the Eiffel Tower, and shopping to our hearts' delight. Lunch was at a chinese restaurant inside the Lafayette Galleries (shopping mall). We ordered fried rice and fried seafood noodles. Beside our table was a French lady enjoying her big meal, and who spoke enough English for us to communicate with her. Bon apetit!

Our dinners in Paris were outside our hotel, Florida Hotel. It was actually a restaurant called Buffallo, serving North American cuisine, grilled chicken, steak, grilled salmon, Crevettes (shrimp gambas). I ordered vin rogue for our group the first night, and on our final night, one Chinese lady, served everyone, one round of vin rogue, again.

Au revoir, Paris!

We flew back to Toronto on Thursday, October 9. Our flight left the Charles de Gaulle airport at 11:30 am (French time). It was an eight-hour flight, and we reached Toronto Pearson International Airport at 1:35, EST.

FOOTNOTE:

On our way to Santiago de Compostela, from Lisbon, we stopped for washroom break and snack in a highway eatery, and found in the store a cookie called " Filipinos." It was chocolate covered cookie. I found it again in two other stores, in Spain. I bought some to give away to my sister.

This post was originally posted in my other blog: www.luckycanary.blogspot.com