this is one of those days when i wish i was back in my homeland. and why not? they have a loooong weekend in observance of the holy week.
i found this ironic because i dreaded holy week when i was younger even though i was born and raised a catholic and therefore, i understand (or should have understood) better what lent signifies for us. but then again, i am sinful and so i see not only what is but also what is not:
- no meat. this was the ultimate sacrifice for me. i’m not fond of sea food (except sushi and it was of course rare where i grew up) nor vegetables so i had to find other means to feed myself. fortunately, my parents never imposed fasting and abstinence in our house so i just stacked up junk foods.
- no TV, or at least the regular programming was off from maundy thursday until black staurday. the only programs we could watch were religious shows like ten commandments, the film about christ’s passion (not by mel gibson), fr. sonny’s seven last words special with dramatization, our lady of lourdes apparation, and 7th heaven marathon (which came only years later). in truth, i wasn’t a TV junkie when i was young and yet i felt like holy week was taking away the one source of pleasure that was readily available to me (which was exactly the point of it all).
- no bathing after 3pm on good friday. i am not sure where this tradition originated from but since holy week usually fell at the peak of summer in manila, bathing was a necessity. i just made sure i took a bath before 3pm in keeping the faith.
- no clipping fingernails and toe nails on good friday. this was something that my elder sister told me but i did not question the wisdom of her age. in any case, clipping can wait since i never had broken nails on a good friday. plus no one ever said biting one’s nails was also forbidden.
- no loud noises. like no singing at the top of your lungs; no shouting; no playing the drums (well i don’t play the drums anyway but i would have wanted to if i could). in short, we were quiet as a mouse. and i hate mouse, much more to be like one.
- no complaints. i remember when i was in first grade, my mom and my auntie pia took my sister and me to antipolo for the station of the cross and i hated all the walking and climbing up the stairs. but of course, i had to refrain myself from kvetching lest i be accused of unbecoming a catholic. my silence and obedience paid off in the end because my mom bought me the most delicious kalamay i have ever tasted in my life (and to this day, i still long for its taste). i don’t think we ever did station of the cross again, or it’s possible that i may have declined to go again.
- no jesus. he’s dead until easter sunday and this scared me like hell. no pun intended. i was pretty sure the ghosts and monsters were everywhere, fearless in the absence of jesus. i suppose i took seriously that third episode of shake, rattle ‘n roll, haha. for your information, that was the story of how a manananggal terrorized a small town on a good friday.
