Wednesday, April 04, 2007
This Holy Week I was once again immersed in our family tradition of the "Pabasa" (the Passion of Christ is sang by believers). Here's a picture of our "karosa", the flowers brought down from Baguio. It starts Holy Wednesday when we would prepare the Karosa where the statue of the Nazareno is held together with Simon carrying a big black cross. A "live" station of the Cross is commemorated along the streets.
The Nazareno, "Mamong" as we so fondly call him was owned by my family for more than 100 years old already. It passed from generations after generations. Each year, sadly, it becomes more modernized with mobile portable CD players to i-Pods where the background music was played as the procession goers walked from house to house commemorating the Fourteen Stations of the Cross. Before the whole family would be busy in the kitchen cutting away vegetables, peeling potatos, washing plates and kitchen utensils - now there are hired florists and chefs. Years back we walked barefoot along the darkly lit streets of A. Mabini Street in Caloocan City holding candles and solemnly commemorating Christ as he carried his cross along Calvary.
It was was more real to me back then, His passion and His pains. The Holy Week when I was little was more holier than it is now. I remember my grandmother and my aunts teaching us, mostly six-year-olds how to cook, cut vegetables and become very helpful in the kitchen. We were taught not to play, not to laugh so much and be very quiet mostly all throughout the week - as a form of sacrifice. Today I saw the week as a respite from work, when I could clean the house, remove stuff from the refrigerator, spend time with my family and catch up on some reading and probably watch some DVDs. If my grandma and aunts would see us now they would probably turn in their graves at the way we spend the "HOLY Week". But then for me being with the family is a Holy time. It's a time where I remember that this is the reason why I am alive, the very reason I breath and the very reason why I want to wake up and face the day again tomorrow.