April 2, 3015. Here we are at NAIA 2, waiting at Centennial Airport. We woke up at 2am to make it in time for our 5am PAL flight to Cebu. Checking in was a breeze, a delightful surprise since we thought there would be a mad rush at the airport because of the long weekend.
It’s Holy Thursday. For the past 13 years, I’ve spent the Holy Week in Manila, serving as a lector in our parish. This time around, however, my daughters decided that we should all go on a fam trip to Moalboal. So here we are, Dada (my mom), Bea, Cara, Niccolo and me, off to a new adventure. My thoughts wander over to the church activities I would miss.
The Paschal Triduum, or the three days from Thursday morning to just before Easter Sunday is the busiest time for servant leaders. All the church bells are silenced, votive candles extinguished, and images of saints and the crucifix are removed or hidden behind violet cloth. The Paschal Triduum begins with Chrism Mass early Thursday morning when the Holy Oils are blessed and all the priests of the diocese renew their vow. After Chrism mass, it is customary for parishioners to have breakfast with their parish priest to show their gratitude and love for him. Later that day, we would celebrate the Mass of the Last Supper where priests go down on their knees to wash the feet of parishioners. This commemorates Christ’s actions on the night before he died, when he washed the feet of his 12 apostles, in so doing teaching them humility and servant leadership.
When I was a little girl attending mass at San Sebastian, I watched the Spanish parish priest wash the feet of 12 fellow priests, and wondered why. Are their feet dirty? Later, as the church became more inclusive and priests scarcer, common parishioners took on the role of the apostles. When we first moved to Southbay, our family was chosen as one of those to be washed. It took some convincing for Mike to agree, but Niccolo was excited to have his feet washed.
After the Mass of the Last Supper, we would do the Bisita Iglesia, a Catholic tradition of visiting seven churches and praying the Stations of the Cross, ending with spending time at the Altar of Repose to keep the Lord company in His time of agony. We always enjoyed this time, choosing which seven churches to go to and comparing the different altars of repose they put up.
At dawn on Friday, we would have the Community Way of the Cross, walking through the different Basic Ecclesial Communities (BECs) of the Ascension of Our Lord Parish, from Villonco to Southbay to Waterfun, Estrada 1 & 2, Aratiles, Mangga, Silangan, then Goodwill. When we first did this about ten years ago, I was a bit worried having to walk and pray in the developing communities, then genuflecting on the dirty streets, beside dogs and chickens. But this also opened my eyes to the circumstances of how other people lived, and I became more thankful of our many blessings, and also more open and understanding of the people around me.
At 3pm, we would have the Veneration of the Cross, the symbol of Christ’s suffering and love for us. We used to call this rite the Seven Last Words. This is a solemn rite where we relive the last hours of Christ’s passion and death on the cross. When the priest enters the church with the cross, stops three times and unveils it partially, he sings a biblical phrase. Fr. Didoy Molina, our beloved parish priest then, was absent when God gave the gift of beautiful voices, so when he attempted to sing, we all cracked up and started giggling.
There is no more consecration of the bread and wine at the mass that follows, but we would partake of communion with hosts blessed the night before during the Last Supper rites. We would then go home, but some of us would stay and keep the image of the Cristo Muerto company.
Black Friday, as we call the day that Christ died, is supposed to be a day of fasting, quiet and reflection on this passion and death. I still recall a time, I must have been three or four years old then, when Pepito and I were playing rowdily by the avocado tree in the backyard. Our mom came out and roundly spanked and scolded us to keep quiet. “Don’t you know that Jesus Christ is dead?,” she screamed at us in Spanish. We kept quiet, wondering who this Jesus Christ was and why he died. To a young child, the concept of death is difficult to grasp, more so when it is someone we don’t know.
Black Saturday is still supposed to be hush hush but come night, we would have a grand celebration as we celebrate Easter, or the resurrection of Jesus Christ. In our parish, we would congregate in the pitch black court outside the church. The bonfire is lighted and the priest would bless and light the Paschal Candle, saying “You are the alpha and the omega.” These words never fail to touch me, and bring home the message that God is our all in all, the beginning and the end, our Creator, the Almighty to whom we owe everything. And once again, I would be humbled as I am reminded of my nothingness and yet the grandness that God loves me and holds me in the palm of His hand.
The Easter Vigil mass is long and dramatic. It begins with us entering the dark church following the priest holding up the lighted candle. We listen to several readings followed by Psalms which are sung. The readings begin with Genesis, the story of creation, to when Abraham willingly follows the Lord’s command to sacrifice his only son Isaac to God. He is about to kill his son when he is stopped by an angel and told that God has blessed him for showing his faithfulness to the Lord. God then makes His solemn promise to bless Abraham with descendants more numerous than the stars of the sky or the sands along the beach, descendants who will be a blessing to all nations. The readings proceed to Exodus, or the triumphant flight from Egypt when the Israelites under the leadership of Moses and the guidance and protection of God cross the Red Sea and all of the pursuing Pharaoh’s chariots and charioteers are drowned.
I am usually assigned to read one of these first readings as they are the longest and most dramatic. But it is the second one I love the most. I put myself in Abraham’s shoes, and wonder if I would be as obedient as him. Imagine being told to kill your only son, the beloved son of your old age, and to offer him as a sacrifice to God. Give up Bea, or Cara or Niccolo? Arghhh! And yet, this is exactly what God did: send His only son, Jesus Christ to live and die on the cross to save us from our sins.
The following readings from Isaiah, Baruch and Ezekiel chronicle God’s faithfullness over the centuries to His covenant to take care of His people. We then have the Epistle and the readings from the Gospel. I love it when we sing the Gloria with all of the lights turned on, as we wave our white flags and ring our bells. Oh, what a glorious time it is as we rejoice that the Lord has risen!
The next day we would have the Easter Egg Hunt in our village. When my children were young, they would join the other children in the village and see who could collect the most eggs, especially the prized Gold and Silver eggs. Similarly, when we were young, my siblings and I would also go Easter Egg hunting in our yard. What fond memories Easter brings!
Oh, I will miss all of these rituals this Holy Week, but then I will be with my children and my mom. It is high time we have some family bonding. The children are grown up and soon they would have their own families. I hope and pray that we would still be able to celebrate Easter together in the years to come.