I had fond childhood memories of the Holy Week. What I remember clearly were the afternoon church services with my grandma and cousins. There were also a few weird rules that we had to follow: in those days, gloomy attires were the fad and noise of any kind were strictly prohibited… we talked in whispers and never at the earshot of my grandma, lest we’d be called “hudyo”. Bathing on Good Friday was regarded a mortal offense when the entire Christian community was believed to be under the saviour’s blood. But Easter Sunday was a major celebration! We prepared lots of suman and cooked different dishes fit for a wedding party. But those were the good old days…
Now that I’m all grown up and working in the big city, it is hard to observe those traditions. In fact, the holy week is not officially recognized as a non-working holiday for US based companies so we are stuck in the office doing our normal stuff. So when my friends from the Cash group suggested a Visita Iglesia, I didnt think twice of joining.
We left at around 9 in the morning, right after our graveyard shift. The sun was up and already expanding its scathing heat over the land, sketching the perfect backdrop for a Good Friday penitence!
First stop was the Sacred Heart Church. It was just a short distance from the office and the five of us – Me, Kiko, Phen, Hazel, Ryan – walked under the blazing heat, made it to the church all sweaty and panting, but undeterred. We said our prayers on two stations of the cross and since our next church is much father away, we decided to take the cab this time.
We stopped at Manila Cathedral then San Agustin. These ancient churches both situated in Intramuros, had the effect of taking you back to the Spanish colonial era. The only reminder of the present time were the vendors lining the walkways and, of course, we did not pass the opportunity of sampling the sumptuous local delicacies – kakanin of different kinds, squid balls, pancit, and grilled corn – and silenced the nagging hunger that we’ve been suppressing all morning.
We proceeded to Quiapo church, but the thick crowd made it impossible to even get near it. We did not insist on even trying… the scene is pretty dangerous for nightshifters fighting off sleep and, at that point, thirst and sweat.
Kiko lead us out of the throng along with what seemed like secret passages and before we knew it, we were standing next to the one and only all-steel basilica in Asia – The San Sebastian Church. I used to come here often when I was starting off as a young professional and some of my most fervent prayers then were said here. I am thankful for the reunion, no matter how brief.
Next was San Beda Church. The instant I walked it, my jaw dropped. How can I not have visited this church before? It is not as big as the cathedral but the beautifully painted murals just took my breath away. I wish I can come back here soon and tag along Mark with me.
(sorry for the blurry photo, it does not do the church any justice)
The last stop was the Archdiocese of St. Jude. Again, one of the churches that brings back nostalgic memories. I used to attend the Thursday novena here, but since moving to Makati, I had not made it back until this visita.
For posterity’s sake, we took pictures in each church that we visitied. Our small share of sacrifice overshadowed the call of thirst, exhaustion, and sleep. Our observance of the holy week did not embrace the old rules of gloomy clothes, all-day silence, or non-bathing but it was one that left a mark and inspired us to do it all again next year.
