Holy Week in the Philippines

Good Friday in Pampanga

In a country where 85% of the population is Catholic, Christian holidays are a big deal. At SIBAT, the office was closed Wednesday-Sunday for Holy Week. Unlike in the US, we didn't even call it something PC like "Spring Holiday"! I've been called out for my attempts at political correctness here, which I'm beginning to think is a purely American construct. But back to Holy Week!

Since we had Wednesday off, we accompanied Nathan's aunt and uncle to University of the Philippines Los Banos to pick up their son for his break. It's a couple hours south of Manila, and the campus was a lush green, tree-filled paradise. On the way back, the roadways were lined with hoards of people waiting to board buses to the provinces. We must have passed thousands of people waiting for buses! Over the next couple days, the effect was staggering- the city was a ghost town! Streets that notoriously have standstill traffic at all hours of the day were like open country roads. (A similar effect was seen during the Pacquiao fight the week before, because everyone was inside somewhere watching, but it was much shorter lived).

Maundy Thursday

I spent most of the day at church, participating in a Lenten reflection and then attending the evening Maundy Thursday service. I’ll admit that I didn’t warm up to my new church right away, but I’m really beginning to feel like part of the community there.

Good Friday in Pampanga

During a 2-hour break between a Lenten reflection and the evening service, I was idly snacking on a glutinous rice dessert in a room with the members of the women’s guild- most of whom are probably around 70. I was thinking it would be a long two hours with nobody to talk to. I ended up spending it learning a huge lesson about presumptuousness.  I had sat beside an old woman during the reflection, and all I really noted about her was that I hadn’t seen her before, she seemed a little disheveled, and most of her front teeth were missing.  Then she introduced herself – she had attended the church in the 60s but now only comes when she visits Manila from Mindinao, the southernmost part of the Philippines. Once we started talking and I realized how much we had in common, I almost cried (I high-fived her instead). My advocacy work at SIBAT has been focused on organic, sustainable agriculture, and she’s an agriculturist with an organic farm in Mindinao.  She brought up Golden Rice and said “Why would they add vitamin A to rice! People just need to eat vegetables!,” which is essentially the punchline of a flyer I made last week at work.  She told me about her organic farm and her younger days as an activist. She smirked while talking about how in college when they were lecturing about "biotechnology" (chemical pesticides, fertilizers and GMOs) she didn't even save her notes because she knew she didn't need it. I was giddy for having met her and for finding a friend and ally in the most unlikely place. I love the way church can bring people from totally different backgrounds together that way.

Good Friday
One tradition that takes place in a couple towns within the Philippines is the reenactment of the crucifixion on Good Friday. A few people volunteer to be nailed through their hands and feet to a cross in the sweltering heat, believing that it will earn them favor in the eyes of God (despite the denunciation of the practice by the Catholic church, and the total lack of biblical basis for this belief). One man has already been crucified 23 times, and plays the main role of Jesus in the passion play. It sounds pretty gruesome but also like something that I might never get another opportunity to see, so I decided to check it out.
Through the magic of Couchsurfing, I found a travel companion with a rental car (Nathan had a choir performance and couldn't come). Nathan's cousin Jascha also came along for the adventure.

Good Friday in Pampanga

We headed north for about an hour, and once we got off the highway we knew we were close when we saw self-flagellation along the sides of the streets. This is also thought of as a way to atone for one's sins during holy week. As we got closer to the town where the crucifixion was to be held the number of bloodied backs we passed grew rapidly. We found a place to park the now blood-spattered car and joined the crowd of onlookers. There were hundreds of people self-flagellating while they slowly walked through the town, many wearing black face coverings. It was so crowded that I actually got whipped on the arm by one of them. Turns out the whips are pretty soft! Once I got a closer look, I saw that there were two big patches of about 50 razor cuts on the mens' backs. To achieve the bloodied look without using a real whip to pierce the skin, they make lots of incisions before they start and then spread the blood around with the whips.

The bloody procession was moving toward the beautiful Metropolitan Cathedral in the center of the town. Once the men reached this site, they would lie face down on the pavement in front of the church. Women and children were standing nearby to gently continue the whipping. The kids seemed like they were really enjoying themselves, slapping the men with their sandals and gently kicking them. After some amount of time, the penitents would get up, make the sign of the cross, and walk away to make room for the next group. Along with people carrying crosses, which is the third and least violent method of repentance, they begin the long walk to the site of the crucifixion.

Metropolitan Cathedral in San Pedro Cutud

The heat was pretty unbearable- maybe 95 degrees and no shade in sight. After we'd seen enough of the whipping for one lifetime, we retreated indoors until it was time to head to the crucifixion. The field with a hill that has been chosen to represent Calvary is pretty far from the town center, so we took a pedi-cab as close as we could. The walk was still pretty far, and involved crazily darting back and forth across the street through a massive crowd to catch every small patch of shade. We arrived at the field just in time. Squeezing through throngs of sweaty Filipinos, we found a spot just to the side of the action.  People with good views must have arrived hours earlier. Over loudspeakers there were shouts from Roman guards and loud weeping from Mary Magdelene, all in Filipino, before the three crosses on the hill were lowered. The first batch of men being crucified wore microphones so their screams could be heard throughout the crowd, but the loud cheering still drowned them out. Once the nails were carefully positioned and driven through the hands and feet of the three men, the crosses were lifted. 10 minutes later the nails were plucked out, the crosses lowered, and the process began again with the next group. Unable to stand the heat much longer, we began to make our way out of the crowd.  I had expected this to be a more gruesome, somber, reflective experience, and in that respect I was disappointed. Still, as a cultural experience it was definitely interesting and I'm glad I was able to see it. Even though it's not far from Manila, most of the Filipinos I've talked to about it have never seen it before and think it's a little over the top.

Easter Sunday
Sunday morning Nathan and I attended a beautiful sunrise service with some friends that live here- they're actually the parents of our friend Stephen from San Francisco. There was lots of joyful singing, an upbeat sermon complete with a jazzy interlude, and we followed it up with a picnic in the park. It was a great way to start the day. I really love Easter, it fills me with so much hope to remember all over again that He conquered death on our behalf. Hallelujah!