Holy Week in my hometown

(This column appears in today's edition of the Leyte-Samar Daily Express)

Hi there! Happy Easter everyone! We are 5 days away to the Centennial celebration of the Diocese of Calbayog.
I think I’ll refer to this column as a Holy Week postscript. As I always do each time Holy Week comes, I make it a point to feature the semana santa tradition of Calbayog City. And if you are a regular reader of this column, you would have had read the same material at least four times. It’s not that I’m in no mood to write something about Calbayog, it’s my way of recalling the holy week that many of us grew up with.

Holy Week is different things to different people. Whatever one is into, it’s nice to note that even just for a few days, we are (or were) given the opportunity to contemplate upon the greatest gift that is the life of the Son of God. As to those who had to hit the beaches and other tour sites last week, well . . .

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Semana Santa. Last week, the images of the saints at the Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral were covered with violet cloth and it stayed that way until the Easter vigil. As with the rest of the Catholic world, Domingo de Ramos ushered in Holy Week in Calbayog.

On Holy Thursday, the image of the Dolorosa (on the left wing of the cathedral) gave way to the monumento which was the object of veneration of the faithful from 6:00 pm until noon of Good Friday. The 12 persons (usually members of the K of C) who were selected as this year’s apostoles had their feet washed by the Bishop. Old folks fondly refer to the ceremony as pamusa san mga apostoles. That ceremony used to have one old lady – apparently on a panata – go up the altar and hand out small bags with coins to the apostoles. We missed that old lady for three years now.

After the Mass, the apostoles had their dinner – ala last supper - with the bishop at the parish rectory. I was once a part of this “ritual”. The bishop seated at the center with the twelve apostoles on both sides. So was it a good dinner? I dunnow. Try to imagine having dinner while lectors take turns in reading a good number of gospel passages and a choir sings psalms in between. Then at exactly 8 pm, it was time for the jubileo, that ritual of saying of the rosary while in procession around the Cathedral and going in and out of it, yes, through all its doors.

Viernes Santo. As with the past years, the Good Friday service at the Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral begun at 1 pm (but not necessarily on the dot) with the siete palabras where priests from the parish and the nearby parishes took turns to reflect on the seven last words. No need to mention that the cathedral pews already get occupied at noon.

And what is Good Friday without the procession? There were at least 14 carrozas that went around the city that day and it included the ones that have always fascinated me as these are the ones I grew up with, so to speak:

“An carro san Señor” is how members of the Gomez family refer to the more than a century old life-size image of Christ tied and scourged on the pillar. Originally part of a set of 5 images (from Mexico) which included a centurion, the image of the Señor tied to a pillar was all that’s left after the Gomez family evacuated during the last world war.

There is one owned by the Rosales Family. It is the one depicting the third fall of Jesus. Life-size images of Christ on the ground with a big cross on his back and at least four hudeyos with their glaring eyes are my earliest images of the suffering of Christ.

The Santo Intierro of the Ignacio and Bernardo families, for whatever reason is always the most popular among the mass goers. On top of many people taking time to touch its feet, its decors and flowers always get plucked even just halfway through the procession.

The image of the Dolorosa or the Sorrowful Mother gives some kinda eerie twist to Good Friday when it went on procession in the middle of the night. It went through the silent streets of Calbayog with the recitation of the rosary blaring and the moon peeping over the horizon.

The celebration was capped by the Easter vigil which always begun with the Cathedral covered in darkness and the whole thing ended with the sugat.

These are some of the memories or the stuff that holy weeks are made of in my hometown, and I guess in everybody’s hometown. Now, let’s not even start discussing on how the people in Boracay or other resorts fared last weekend (but honestly, I’m drooling). Be that as it may, at the end of the day, it takes more than the color, rituals and pageantry that our religious traditions are made of. I guess it takes ourselves as individuals not only taking part in the activities for the sake of following tradition, but to take time to pause and ponder upon the greatest gift that the Almighty has provided us. And in doing so, to take time to ponder on the sad fact (or is it reality) that love and peace, despite being the most overused words there is, are also the most elusive in this world.

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This is it for now. Have a nice week everyone! Ciao!