The temperature has risen to a startling and often debilitating 35 degrees Celsius. It's Holy Week and the crowds are flocking to the beaches to try and cool off; it’s the start of April and – yes, summer has definitely arrived in the Philippines.
My definition of summer over here goes roughly like this; the temperature goes from being bloody hot to unbearably hot. One way of being sure that summer has truly arrived is when you meet and talk to the locals. Every conversation is preceded by the obligatory wipe of the forehead with a large towel that they all seem to manage to secrete somewhere on their person, and begins with the salutation “init!” (hot!).
My definition of summer over here goes roughly like this; the temperature goes from being bloody hot to unbearably hot. One way of being sure that summer has truly arrived is when you meet and talk to the locals. Every conversation is preceded by the obligatory wipe of the forehead with a large towel that they all seem to manage to secrete somewhere on their person, and begins with the salutation “init!” (hot!).
In a country deeply rooted in its Spanish Catholic history (with around 85% of the population still professing to be followers of the Catholic Faith), Holy Week represents a tug-of-war between the somber and stern ways of our Lola’s (Grandmother's) and the call of our young, less traditional children. My wife has often regaled me with tales of her beloved Lola’s tough attitudes to the celebration of Holy Week. “We were not allowed to wear colored clothes, we certainly were not allowed to laugh or have any fun, and all we were allowed to eat were simple, plain meals like sardines and rice – certainly no meat for us on Holy Week.” She tells me that, as children, they were taught that Holy Week was a time for solemn reflection and for remembering what Christ suffered on the Cross for their transgressions. Simply put, Holy Week was to be a time of denial, of reflection and most importantly of all a time of penitence for our unworthiness to receive this ultimate gift of grace.
Over the years, as Thess worked hard to instill this ethos into her own children but she discovered, like we all have, that the world had changed in what seemed like a blink of the eye. Holy Week no longer holds the mystique and mystery, for this generation that it once had for our generation. For many Holy Week is now seen as merely an opportunity to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life and to head for the resorts and beaches of this beautiful country. In my mind; that seems like a pretty damn good activity to be indulging in when the mercury climbs through the roof.
Over the years, as Thess worked hard to instill this ethos into her own children but she discovered, like we all have, that the world had changed in what seemed like a blink of the eye. Holy Week no longer holds the mystique and mystery, for this generation that it once had for our generation. For many Holy Week is now seen as merely an opportunity to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life and to head for the resorts and beaches of this beautiful country. In my mind; that seems like a pretty damn good activity to be indulging in when the mercury climbs through the roof.
Indeed, this Holy Week our family has again indulged in the traditional exit from Manila; all heading for the home Province of Occidental Mindoro for a rendezvous with the glorious beaches of Mamburao and a reunion with those of the family still left in the province. I say “our family” however I have to exclude my wife and I. We have been party to this mass exodus for a few years now, but for a variety of reasons Thess decided we should eschew the joys of Lagundian Beach this year. “We will just stay at home and spend some time together;” (a rare opportunity these days), so that seemed a pretty reasonable option; although when I saw the first photos posted on FB from the rest of the gang at the beach, I did feel those little pangs of jealousy tickle at my heart.
“So, sweetheart,” I asked, arching one eyebrow in a not so subtle suggestion, “just what do we plan to do with our Holy Week?” Her answer was not quite the one I was hoping for, but then “hope springs eternal”. Her suggestion was that we tour some Churches and undertake a Catholic tradition called: “The Stations of the Cross.” Now as regular readers will know, I’m not Catholic, but I will always respect and honor Thess’ faith and beliefs. I love the woman – and that includes everything she believes in and holds dear. To do otherwise; in my opinion, would be to make my love conditional – and I don’t do conditional! What she had in mind was to link up with our daughter-in-law who was also stuck in Manila with her three children and we would tour seven different churches in seven different towns in Rizal Province; performing two of the “Stations of the Cross” at each Church. It seemed like a reasonable proposition, especially since the car is air-conditioned, and I do love touring the old Churches in this country. Since it seemed a pretty good way to get out of town for a day; I readily agreed.
“So, sweetheart,” I asked, arching one eyebrow in a not so subtle suggestion, “just what do we plan to do with our Holy Week?” Her answer was not quite the one I was hoping for, but then “hope springs eternal”. Her suggestion was that we tour some Churches and undertake a Catholic tradition called: “The Stations of the Cross.” Now as regular readers will know, I’m not Catholic, but I will always respect and honor Thess’ faith and beliefs. I love the woman – and that includes everything she believes in and holds dear. To do otherwise; in my opinion, would be to make my love conditional – and I don’t do conditional! What she had in mind was to link up with our daughter-in-law who was also stuck in Manila with her three children and we would tour seven different churches in seven different towns in Rizal Province; performing two of the “Stations of the Cross” at each Church. It seemed like a reasonable proposition, especially since the car is air-conditioned, and I do love touring the old Churches in this country. Since it seemed a pretty good way to get out of town for a day; I readily agreed.
There is something quite special about entering a house of worship that was built some 400 odd years ago and has survived floods, earthquakes, typhoons and war, to still be standing and serving the people of its community so well. I do marvel at the grandeur of the Catholic Faith – they do “grandeur” so much better than most. As we were tripping around and stopping to perform the rites at each Church, a few things struck me.
Firstly; I was thrilled to see that although the times they are a changing, plenty of families were still on the same pilgrimage as we were. There were still thousands of people touring around visiting the Churches on this boiling hot Maundy Thursday. It was clear that, for some, eschewing the beach for the more thoughtful and reflective task of remembering their faith was still in vogue. I noticed that families were using this opportunity to bond and to spend time together – a truly worthy activity. Although this was an opportunity to reinforce their faith they didn’t let it stand in the way of enjoying each other’s company. There was much laughter and merriment accompanying the fulfillment of “The Stations of the Cross”. The children, as children always do, just saw it as an opportunity to run, to jump and to play – and nobody cared that they were enjoying themselves. There were very few “negative” people in sight.
Firstly; I was thrilled to see that although the times they are a changing, plenty of families were still on the same pilgrimage as we were. There were still thousands of people touring around visiting the Churches on this boiling hot Maundy Thursday. It was clear that, for some, eschewing the beach for the more thoughtful and reflective task of remembering their faith was still in vogue. I noticed that families were using this opportunity to bond and to spend time together – a truly worthy activity. Although this was an opportunity to reinforce their faith they didn’t let it stand in the way of enjoying each other’s company. There was much laughter and merriment accompanying the fulfillment of “The Stations of the Cross”. The children, as children always do, just saw it as an opportunity to run, to jump and to play – and nobody cared that they were enjoying themselves. There were very few “negative” people in sight.
The second thing I noticed was the difference performing this act had on its participants. There was a genuine belief that what they were doing was right for them. I really felt that it wasn’t just some ritualized procedure handed down through the ages, but that it had some true, personal meaning for those participating. It wasn’t just a sop to a long gone Lola, but was as relevant for them today as it was back in their Lola’s days. Yes, things have changed – we are freer and more open in our expressions and knowledge these days; but deep in our core beings we still want to believe in something greater than ourselves. For Thess and Recie, this simple act of reaffirmation and thanks seemed to confirm for them; their “mystery of the faith.
Finally, for me, as non-Catholic, the experience was one of mental refreshment and of peace. Yes, it was hot and uncomfortable, fully dressed (as one must for these occasions) and yes at times the antics of the children might have gotten on my nerves a tad, but as I posted the obligatory photos on FB last night I couldn’t help but notice how happy, how relaxed and how restful everyone looked. When we finally got home, I could reflect on a long, hot, tiring day – that I wouldn’t have changed for the world. It was a new experience and it was a good one.
The question did arise; as it often does in our household as to what I do actually believe in? You know, I’ve given this topic a lot of thought over the years and its answer probably requires a blog of its own – keep tuned. As a teaser, the closest word I can think of that describes my beliefs is probably; “Omnism” (Check it up in an online dictionary)
Would I rather have been on Lagundian Beach with the children – maybe, but I thank my beautiful wife for her excellent idea to take a break from everyday routine and just reflect on how lucky we are and what a wonderful life we now have. Thank you darling – you were right; AS ALWAYS!
Would I rather have been on Lagundian Beach with the children – maybe, but I thank my beautiful wife for her excellent idea to take a break from everyday routine and just reflect on how lucky we are and what a wonderful life we now have. Thank you darling – you were right; AS ALWAYS!
A final thought - Whatever you do this Holy Week; make it something you do together, as a family, that promotes peace, happiness and tranquility in your life. Have a wonderful and restful break and remember always - DON'T WORRY; BE HAPPY!
Changing the world - one reader at a time!
Changing the world - one reader at a time!
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