Resolute New Year

The way the passing of the old year and the start of the new are celebrated varies from country to country. But they have one thing on common and that is what they are all observing is the end of one cycle of living and the start of a new one. In short, a rite of passage. It will come as a surprise for most people to know that celebrating the New Year on January 1 started only in 1582. Before that, Europe followed the Julian calendar initiated by Julius Caesar in 46 B.C. Then Pope Gregory XIII introduced the present calendar in 1582. Most Catholic countries accepted the change immediately, but Protestant countries resisted the change. England and Scotland, for instance, stuck to the Julian calendar till 1752. So for a much longer period of time, nations were observing New Year's Day in March.

To this day, we don't have a classic Philippine Christmas story. So we read Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol and O. Henry's The Gift of the Magi.

But we do have a classic New Year's story –Nick Joaquin's The Mass of St. Sylvestre. It is a story that begins by telling us about the ancient Roman deity Janus who had two faces, one in front and one behind, symbolizing man's capacity of looking at the past while going to the future. The months of January was named after him. Here is Nick Joaquin's depiction of the spirit of the New year celebrations in old Intramuros:

In Christianity, the post of Janus has been taken over by another Roman: St. Sylvestre, pope and confessor, whose feast falls on the last day of the year. At midnight of that day, the papal saint appears on earth and, with the Keys of his Office, opens the gates of all principal archiepiscopal cities and celebrates the first Mass of the year in their cathedrals.

Manila has been a cathedral-city almost from its foundation; for centuries it was one of the only two cities in the orient (Goa being the other) to whose gates the New Year's key – bearer made his annual visitation. For this purpose, St. Sylvestre always used the Puerta Postigo which is one of the seven gates of our city – one reserved for the private use of the viceroys and the archbishops. There he is met by the great St. Andrew, principal patron of Manila, accompanied by St. Potenciana, who is our minor patroness, and by St. Francis and St. Dominic, the guardians of our walls.

St. Sylvestre comes arrayed in cloth-of-gold and crowned with the tiara. Holy knights suspend a pallium above him; archangels swing censers and wave peacock fans; the Book, the Mitre, the Staff and the Keys are borne before him by a company of seraphim; and cherubs flock ahead, blowing on trumpets. Below them swarm the Hours on fast wings. After them come the more sober Days –cryptic figures clad in silver above, in sable below – playing softly on viols. But behind the Pontiff himself, walking three by three, are the twelve splendid angels of the Christian Year.

The first three of these angels are clothed in evergreen and are crowned with pearls, and in their hands they bear incense, gold and myrrh – for these are the angels of the Christmas Season. And the three next angels are clothed in April violets and are crowned with rubies, and they bear the implements of the Passion – for these are the angels of the holy time of Lent. And the next three angels are clothed in lilies and are crowned with gold, and they bear triumphal banners – for these are the angels of Eastertide. But the last three angels are clothed in pure flame and are crowned with emeralds, and they bear the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost – Wisdom, Understanding, Knowledge, Counsel, Perseverance, Piety, and the Fear of God – for these are the angels of Pentecost.

At the Puerta Postigo the heavenly multitude kneels down as St. Sylvestre advances with the Keys to open the Noble and Ever Loyal City of Manila to the New Year. The city's bells ring out as the gate opens and St. Andrew and his companions come forth to greet the heavenly embassy. The two bishops embrace and exchange the kiss of peace, and proceed to the cathedral, where the Pontiff celebrates the Mass of the Circumcision. The bells continue pealing throughout the enchanted hour and break into a really glorious uproar as St. Sylvestre rises to bestow the final benediction. But when the clock strikes one o'clock, the bells instantly fall mute, the thundering music breaks off, the heavenly companies vanish – and in the cathedral, so lately glorious with lights and banners and solemn ceremonies, there is suddenly only the silence, only the chilly darkness of the empty naves; and at the altar, the single light burning before the Body of God.

In our times, what is the highest point of our annual New Year's Eve celebration? The number of fireworks casualties!