Holy Week always reminds me of family, of beach vacations in my mother’s hometown of Bongabon in Oriental Mindoro, of out-of-town excursions with my paternal first cousins to Baguio and Subic, of Easter brunch in New York with my husband and son, of bacalao dinners with my in-laws in their Manila home.
I know of the passion and death of Jesus Christ, felt it like a whiplash with the Mel Gibson film The Passion of the Christ, but it is Christ’s resurrection I celebrate every Holy Week as I revel in family ties.
My son grew up with Easter Egg hunts in his Lolo Carlos and Lola Garding’s house in Manila, where daintily-painted eggs would be hidden behind his lola’s antiques and santos. After a sumptuous dinner of Bacalao a la Vizcaina (the bacalao mailed by my sister-in-law Elvira from Madrid yet and cooked to perfection by my mother-in-law), gazpacho, Russian potato salad and cheese pimiento (blended to perfection by my late father-in-law), there would be an Easter Egg hunt for the kids followed by mind games and anagrams with big prizes for the winners. When my son and his cousins were young adults, the egg hunts ceased but the mind games and the prizes continued. When my father-in-law passed away last January, his granddaughter Trixie said, “I don’t know how Holy Week would be like without Lolo.”
I also remember my maternal grandparents Igmedio and Jovita every time I reminisce on my Holy Week summers in Bongabon. Bongabon during my youth was a town where everybody knew everybody and his best friend. My mother Sonia comes from a closely-knit extended family, and when all her Reyes cousins and nieces dropped by each other’s houses, it was like a day-long fiesta was taking place. We participated in all the Catholic rituals, processions and re-enactments of Holy Week. Bongabon, being near Marinduque, had its own Moriones festival and I would follow the chase of Longhinus and his eventual “beheading.” My sisters and I would always cringe during the Penitensiya, when men would flog themselves with blade-tipped whips to show remorse for their sins, after which they would plunge into the sea to cleanse their wounds. Men and women would lay face down on the ground on the path leading to the St. Joseph’s Church and church-goers were encouraged by them to step on their buttocks as a form of atonement for their sins. They would always let out a cry when I gingerly stepped on their behind because I was quite a fat child.
On Easter Sunday, my grandparents would wake me up early for the Salubong, when a little girl would be raised to a dais to remove the mourning veil of Mary.
There were Holy Week breaks, too, when my paternal aunt Nellie and her husband Uncle Pedieng Loleng would take us with their six children to Subic and Baguio, where my uncle had surveying projects. Joy is really multiplied, not divided, when you celebrate in big numbers — even if we had to sleep dormitory style and queue up before the bathroom.
Easter in the US was memorable, too. The church we went to in Philadelphia was filled to the rafters with churchgoers in their Sunday’s best — hats and gloves for the women, suits for the men. Easter brunch in New York is very popular. Our reservation for brunch at the Waldorf Astoria (a treat from my Uncle Edward Reyes) was accommodated only at 3 p.m.
I read somewhere that the best traits associated with people are those that spring from close family ties — loyalty, self-sacrifice, the desire to make others happy and give him/her an unforgettable time. And the worst traits are also traceable to family, or the lack of it, in his life. When something goes wrong in an adult, you can usually trace it to a trauma he suffered in childhood.
I bring all of these up to remove the guilt from or the judgment rendered on those who go on fun family vacations during Holy Week. (For the last few years, my immediate family has been staying put in Metro Manila, which transforms itself into an oasis from Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday.) First of all, for the working class, it is perhaps the one time they can be with their families uninterrupted without a cut in pay or leave credits. Second, we celebrate the resurrection of Christ when we show how much we value those who make us good people, people who lead us to a life that will eventually reunite us with Christ. And these people are usually members of our family. The people who lead us to God are those who make us say, “There is a God!” with their acts of kindness, mercy and unconditional love. Again, these are usually the people we spend special days, like Holy Week, with. Family and friends.
There will be times and dark hours that will come to our lives, when we will reflect on our purpose in life, on God, on suffering. And these moments need not — and do not — come only on Holy Week. But they will surely come. There will be Good Fridays in our lives, crucifixions and inner deaths.
Which is not to say we should forget or gloss over the suffering and death of Christ and their meaning in our lives and redemption, during Holy Week. But when we celebrate the ties that bind and bring out the best in us as we bond, any time of the year, we begin to appreciate more that Christ gave up his life so that we may live, and love life.
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I would like to share these acts of fasting shared by my batch mate Michelle Soliven at a recent gathering of friends. They were published in her parish newsletter:
A different approach to fasting
Fasts have a tendency to be oriented toward things like giving up food or television. But there are many other creative ways we can welcome Jesus’ healing touch.
Here are suggestions you may want to consider:
1. Fast from anger and hatred. Give your family an extra dose of love each day.
2. Fast from judging others. Before making any judgments, recall how Jesus overlooks our faults.
3. Fast from discouragement. Hold on to Jesus’ promise that He has a perfect plan for your life.
4. Fast from complaining. When you find yourself about to complain, close your eyes and recall some of the little moments of joy Jesus has given you.
5. Fast from resentment or bitterness. Work on forgiving those who may have hurt you.
6. Fast from spending too much money. Try to reduce your spending by 10 percent and give those savings to the poor.
7. Spend extra time for personal prayers.
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The Joey Velasco Foundation (JVF) is keeping the spirit and work of social artist Joey Velasco alive by continuing to hold an exhibit of his paintings during Holy Week. Joey’s paintings touch each person differently. Every painting has a unique, intimate way of communicating to every individual.
For instance, Joey’s famous mural Hapag ng Pag-asa (in which Jesus Christ is depicted breaking bread with street children) had awakened in some a sense of social responsibility for the less fortunate.
JVF would like to continue Joey’s tradition of using his paintings as points of reflection and as a means for God to communicate with His people and vice versa.
This exhibit is just one of several projects which the Foundation will be embarking on. Other projects include the acquisition and preservation of socially-conscious religious artworks, taking care of the families of the Hapag kids (the street children featured in the Hapag ng Pag-asa painting), and organizing summer camps, art trips and classes, specially for poor children. This non-profit institution ultimately envisions the creation of the Artesacra — Center for Visual Arts Education, which has been Joey’s dream, so that through the arts, JVF maybe able to help in the total development of the Filipino.
Some of the members of the board of the JVF include Tony Meloto, Dodo and Viel Dee, Queeny Velasco, Nonong and Jing Castañeda-Velasco, Kim Atienza, Dr. Nick Nicomedez, Fr. Francis Gustillo, SDB, Fr. Jonil Lalap, SDB, Fr. Arnold Abelardo, Jess and Girlie Lorenzo, Sr. Bubbles Bandojo, RC and Fr. Bogie Cabrera, MSC.
Joey may have moved on, but his legacy remains. (You may e-mail me at mailto:joanneraeramirez@yahoo.com)