holy week byahe

Ate Angie, Ate Tatit and Jerry left for Marinduque a day before Holy week began. I was jealous not being able to join them in traveling to a new place over the break. After all, I am a self-confessed “Batang Layas.” Moreover, Marinduque has become such an interesting place ever since I learned more about the Moriones Festival’s – Longinos more particularly – relation to anticorruption, Longinos being a whistleblower and a man of integrity.
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We have this family/religious tradition every Maundy Thursday where we do Bisita Iglesia with 2 of our grandmothers (my mother’s mother {mama} and her sister {lola auntie}). I missed it last year since I had to spend holy week in Manila preparing for JVP Batch25’s yearend seminar. I could never get myself to go visit churches in Manila, there’s too much traffic to battle with.

It was a little past 4 when we picked up Mama from their house; an hour late from our scheduled, 3PM Bisita Iglesia. My mom overslept and Tetet (my sister) couldn’t take her eyes off 24season4. After picking up Lola Auntie, we started our visits at St.Paul’s in Matina where Lola Auntie is an active member of the parish. Then, we did our usual route of from Northmost churches to Southernmost.

There’s something refreshing about going to churches on a Maundy Thursday; No church is not filled with people. Families, young couples, children, parish workers, lay ministers are seen inside and outside the church. St. Paul’s Cathedral was overflowing with people since Mass was just about to begin when we got there. In our 3rd church, at the Carmelite Sister’s, I noticed that another family was doing their church rounds too since I saw them at the last church we visited. Fried peanuts and garlic overwhelm the outside of the churches and reminded me of childhood days when we used to always eat peanuts after Sunday mass.

Yes, one can pray with God anytime of the day and wherever one is. The top of the mountain makes a person feel closer to God; the serenity of the beach creates an atmosphere of silence with the Lord; a vacation in a foreign land reminds a person to be appreciative of his own land and to dream of finer things for his own country. But personally, a prayer inside the church, where there is that expected silence for one to truly converse with the Lord – when it seems like you are talking to God face to face – when all that you are, all your senses are but centered to doing one thing and one thing alone which is to pray, is the best prayer of all. When I do my personal and quiet prayer, I feel a certain kind of peace and solitude despite being in the middle of the city.

There is still a part of me that wishes I was out some place new, some place exciting and worth discovering. But the trip from one church to another, completing the expected number of churches to visit, has been a memorable journey too. Now that my sisters and I are all grown up and seemed to have lives of our own, this is one of those few times of the year that we get to spend quality time with our grandmothers, obedient in everything they ask.

Personally, this is the time of the year when I’m reminded that my reverence for God and my Faith in the Lord, and in Catholic traditions are things I truly got from home. For although I’m quick in packing my bags if there’s an invitation for any kind of travel, on holy week, I find myself not truly enjoying, remembering Christ’s passion and stopping to pray on Good Friday up to Black Saturday.

Easter awaits!