There was an eerie silence in our neighborhood. Gone was the usual traffic buzz at the major intersection, with cars honking their horns or the sound of engines revving up in acceleration. The usual busy shops and restaurants along the main avenue were quiet as well, closed for the holiday. Even the neighbors’ dogs seemed mute, without their usual racket at the sight of every stranger or car passing by. Many people were in churches, saying prayer or in deep reflection on one of the holiest days of the year for our predominantly Catholic country. Others, like us, were holed up at home in the comforts of air conditioning, in reflection, family bonding or catching up on much needed sleep.

This was our traditional way of spending the Holy Week. We would visit different churches as part
of our visita iglesia and way of the cross, attend prayer vigils and spend the rest of the time at home. Although I have been tempted to go to the beach like some of my countrymen when I was
younger, I think I have matured since then, realized the importance of faith in my life and the significance of Lent.

Many chose a different path though. All throughout Holy Thursday and Good Friday my mobile phone kept ringing. Friends, cousins and even former colleagues kept sending messages and greetings. Some were in Boracay, some were in a mountain retreat somewhere in Tagaytay, and others were in other beaches down south. But their messages were all the same – about the grand time that they were having, how inviting the water was, the celebrities they saw, the sexy girls they met and how they wished I was there. Hmm, sounds tempting, I thought. However, not on Holy Week. Besides, summer has just started and I have more than enough time to do that later (three months at least). The beach adventures can wait.

Others, like some men and women in Pampanga, a province north of Manila, have a different way of expressing their faith on Good Friday. They continue a bloody tradition of sacrifice and self-mutilation I still cannot understand till now. Some start with self-flagellation, walking the streets from sunrise to sundown, their heads hooded with a black cloth while whipping their backs with bladed wooden sticks dangling from ropes “to atone for sins”. Others are more gruesome, re-enacting Christ’s suffering by being nailed to the cross at 3 PM, the time believed to be Christ’s crucifixion.

I have witnessed this first hand while on an out of town assignment some years back. It was horrible. You could hear these flagellants approaching by the sound of their bamboo whips clicking in unison, seeming announcing their arrival. I couldn’t bear to look up close, but from a distance, I could see blood splattering in every direction as the whips hit their backs, making me cringe and squirm. Church leaders have often reminded these penitents that this was not the true measure of their faith, that this should not be practiced, let alone emulated. But these faithful cannot be dissuaded. They have been doing it for years and vow to continue to do so.

I also did my share of sacrifice yesterday though I must admit it pales in comparison to being nailed on the cross or whipping one’s back. I stayed away from my PC the whole day! Never touched it. I thought of abstaining from food like I always did the past years but with my current addiction to blogging and the internet, I realized this was a more worthy sacrifice. I was right. Oh how I itched to turn the computer on and touch that keyboard, even with the excuse of just checking my email (ahuh)! Luckily, will power prevailed and I made it through. I just hope my sacrifice was good enough.

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a quiet, fun or bloody Good Friday: which one was it for you?

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