The Resurrection in a world of heartbreak

Even on Easter morning, all over the world, the guns speak, the bombs go off, people suffer not merely from man’s violence but from starvation and disease.

This can only be discouraging to a journalist hoping to write an upbeat column.

In Jerusalem, where the Lord’s passion and death were played out and where He gloriously rose from the tomb, there continue to be passion and death.

The United Nations Security Council, meeting over the Good Friday weekend, has sternly enjoined the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) to withdraw from its rampage in the West Bank and the "occupied" territories, such as Ramallah, where the Palestinian Authority’s Yasser Arafat remains bottled up by Israeli shelling and armored containment. I could be wrong, but the way I see it, the Israelis have gone past caring about being scolded.

A harbinger that there will be no "peace" is the fact that Arafat, while still waving the peace feather and constantly invoking his former solidarity with the assassinated Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin (who was murdered for his peace moves on November 4, 1995, by an Israeli religious zealot named Yigal Amir), testily told the CNN’s Christiane Amanpouir to address him "correctly". The way I saw it, as I watched the exchange of words yesterday afternoon, Arafat wanted Amanpour to call him "General".

The Israelis, apparently outraged beyond reason or forgiveness by the terrible suicide-bomber attack of a "Passover" dinner being held Thursday in a hotel in the northern city of Netanya, in which a Palestinian Hamas militant blew himself up in the midst of the crowded celebration, killing 20 Israelis and guests, and wounding dozens of others, have virtually declared all-out war on Palestinians. This time the Angel of Death did not pass over – and the Jews are striking back with the vehemence of Pharoah’s host.

I grieve that there can no longer be any hope for a "ceasefire", or peace negotiations between Israelis and Palestinians. It’s now a question of Lex Talionis, "a tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye." Despite the comparatively moderate language of the final communiqué of the Arab League summit which just adjourned in Beirut (Lebanon), urging the consideration of a Saudi Arabian "peace plan", the Israelis have begun to realize that the Palestinians for their part won’t settle save for less than a "recovery" of all of their lost "homes" and lost lands including Jerusalem, and no matter what pacts may be signed, the attacks and bombings will continue.

By the same token, the Palestinians have been bludgeoned by a concerted IDF offensive which was triggered February 28 by Palestinian rocket attacks on Israeli homes and installations. In the past two weeks, the IDF punched into Balata refugee camp near the northern West Bank city of Nablu (to blast out Al Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigade gunmen and would-be suicide-bombers attacked targets all over the West Bank and Gaza, resulting in 150 Palestinians killed.

In sum, what we see today is no longer just a "war" but an open-ended "vendetta." How do you put a cap on such an escalation of blood-letting? By signing a piece of paper? Such a truce or ceasefire would be violated, even before the ink is dry.

Easter thus dawns over Jerusalem in such an inhospitable climate – yet, we must all recall that an almost identical climate of hatred, suspicion and fear prevailed, when Jesus was flogged, condemned to die, and dragged under the weight of His cross to Golgotha. The sky darkened, the earth shook – and the rest was sorrow and silence, and incarceration in a borrowed tomb.

It was against a backdrop of despair, therefore, on the part of his terrified Apostles and disciples, and the tears of a bereaved mother that Angels pulled back the stone, the soldiers guarding the site fled in panic, and Christ emerged shining and triumphant from the grave!

That’s what Easter signifies. This day is a timely reminder to all who mourn, despair – and, yes, rage in fury, or in hopelessness and agony – that our God is the God of Impossible Things. Those that we declare "impossible", He has the power to make right.

And, finally, that’s what faith and prayer are all about. Faith goes beyond logic. Prayer is the leap of faith which beseeches the Almighty for something which, in man’s limited ken, cannot possibly be granted. Easter comes to gladden our hearts, thrust aside the black curtain of discouragement and unbearable pain, and tell us to "fear not!" For Christ has redeemed the world.

* * *

That was a wonderful and poignant Viernes Santo procession they held in San Pablo City. More than half a million people thronged the streets to prayerfully watch the carrozas pass, and the marching bands tramp along playing the mournful music of the Entierro and those nostalgic tunes traditionally linked with the serenata de Pasion.

Those of us who were able to make the pilgrimage there on Good Friday and privileged to take part in that rite which is the culmination of Semana Santa can only sing the praises of our friend, Conrado "Ado" Escudero, who annually orchestrates the procession and carries on the legacy of the Samahan ng Mahal na Pasion (Fraternity of the Holy Passion) founded by the lay people of San Pablo "to safeguard, preserve, propagate, and continue the centuries-old traditional religious processions of images or statues depicting Christ’s public life, passion, death, burial and resurrection."

One of the founding co-Chairman was, of course, Ado’s later mother, Doña Rosario A. Escudero, while the others – who have also gone to their eternal reward – were Doña Leonila F. Almeda, Don Ceferino E. Ambray and Don Ramon S. Paulino.

The current president is Don Clarito A. Ticzon. This year’s Hermana Mayor is Doña Thelma Exconde Gana and the Hermano Mayor is Don Nonong C. Guiam whose efforts were responsible for the success of last Good Friday’s procession.

Mind you, I call everybody in this list "Don" or "Doña" for lack of another honorific to confer on them, not owing to any pretensions on their part. As for me, I can never refer to myself as "Don", since my driver of many years, who, by the way, also happens to come from San Pablo, is named "Don-Don." (And, really, from the viewpoint of resourcefulness and fidelity, he twice deserves it.)

San Pablo, while lies at the border with Batangas province (and, indeed, used to belong to Batangas) was a flourishing community even during Revolutionary times (the Malvars hail from there) and was full of gracious Spanish colonial-type mansions until the Japanese under General Tomoyuki Yamashita burned down much of the city towards the close of World War II.

Today, there’s a more proletarian aspect to it. Even as the Viernes Santo procession wound its way through the streets, there were random signs (in front of the ice plant, for example), declaring: "Mabuhay ang NPA! 33rd Taon!" (Long Live the NPA on its 33rd Anniversary). Whether this truly represented the sentiments of the owners of the buildings or domiciles on which the streamers appeared, or whether they were simply afraid not to "show" their "respect", or were buttering up the Communist rebels of the New People’s Army, who infest in the area – in truth, are a strong presence there – and the surrounding provinces, we’ll never know.

But let’s not forget that the godly and the ungodly rub shoulders with each other here.

* * *

The 16 bands which participated in a paliksahan or contest of bands just before the procession, incidentally, were all very good. That’s one thing that can be said: Filipinos have rhythm and music in their hearts. The fetching young drum majorettes, self-conscious in their mini-skirts, were cute and decorative, but could have taken a few lessons in baton-twirling (never mind high-kicking).

Yet, let met say it again: San Pablo seems to be the only community which sponsors a battle of the bands along with its Good Friday procession.

The competing bands themselves came for the serenata, not only from San Pablo itself, but from other towns in the province. The band-members, men and women alike, were splendidly and colorfully attired, but how they could stand the heat in their uniforms can only be attributed to their making a special "sacrifice" on Viernes Santo.

There’s no keeping the irrepressible Pinoy and Pinay spirit down, however, even on mournful Good Friday. In the old days, when we were kids, we were never allowed to play music, or sing, or even hum a tune, as a mark of respect for the solemnity and sorrowful nature of that holy day. Last Friday, on the other hand, when one band completed its rendition of the mournful Good Friday hymns (identical to those played in the grand procession in Sevilla, Spain), it snapped to, and marched of gaily booming out John Philip Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever. Another band punctuated its classic rendition, as it marched off, with another Sousa favorite, The American Post March. and, mind you, right in the heart of what the rebels claim is "NPA country".

You bet. The Maoists, Marxists and the anti-Christs will never win!

* * *

What more is there to say about that inspiring Viernes Santo procession? We owe it to the San Pablo folk that they preserve those images of Our Lord’s passion, death, and entombment, so redolent of our past.

The carrozas were magnificent and touching, including beautiful images of the Virgin like La Soledad (Our Lady of Solitude). When the fantastic carroza of "The Last Supper" swept by, depicting our Lord and His 12 Apostles gathered around a huge table (including Judas Iscariot, naturally) for the Passover Feast, one could only wonder how the owner, Dolly Potenciano, managed to "house" this large tableau the rest of the year, when it wasn’t needed for Viernes Santo. I was told by someone that the Potencianos kept it in one of their warehouses (bodegas).

That’s what the "families" who are the keepers of their own traditional images and floats do, I recall. My own relatives in Sto. Domingo and Vigan did.

One aspect of last Friday’s rites is that the procession of the Aglipayans (Philippine Independent Church), by coincidence, met with the Catholic procession on Padre Burgos street. Each group greeted the other, and the Catholics respectfully let the Aglipayans pass ahead of them. There must be a good message for all of us in this show of brotherhood and mutual respect. I wish we could exhibit such forbearance and mutual affection in other undertakings. (The local Catholic bishop, I hear, it must be mentioned, frowns on the Samahan’s Good Friday procession. I wonder why?)

In any event, one of the statues – I checked it out later – had been bleeding profusely since the start of the day. "Ado" Escudero begged me not to write about it, or identify it, because, he said, this would give the wrong impression that some of them were trying to counterfeit or invent a "miracle", and he didn’t want that. Well, I won’t identify it. But, as a reporter, how can I ignore such a phenomenon? Further affiant sayeth not. My lips are sealed.