The Feast of the Black Nazarene

            There are plenty of things to note from my recent experience of the Feast of the Black Nazarene; however, I would narrow the list down to only three points: first, sweeping comments; second, humorous personality; third, accepting death.

            We woke up as early as 4 o’clock in the morning against our will. Fast forward. While on the way to Quirino grandstand, I saw the usual throng of people walking on barefoot – wearing their usual maroon shirts emblazoned with warm yellow characters, holding a figure of the Black Nazarene, banners, or white handkerchiefs – smelled the foul stench of urine, perhaps marinated with a marinade of animal dung, spit, mucus etc., as if the road had been previously occupied by world-setting-hungry Filipinos for the Guinness’ Largest Number of People Urinating Simultaneously. (I had attempted to keep mum, even fighting myself to pocket my own handkerchief as it was then covering the instrumentalities of the senses of taste and smell. If only we have the capability to shut our senses at will…) Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines because the air is fresh and the surrounding, clean.

If this would be my last attendance, it seemed that nothing new, special or unusual would happen in spite of the already degrading welcome. (I thought we were VIPs? The IDs say so.) But to my surprise, this was a whole new experience: the great number of homosexuals, transvestites, or what have you had become not only part of the Feast but had dressed themselves festive in their own right, that one would get confused whether these attention-grabbers were present to adorn the streets or were, in fact, pious devotees. Another striking observation was the growing demography of kids attending the event. If people had died, injured, given premature birth (I’m not sure), or lost consciousness (due to the 1. heat of the sun, 2. descent of the Holy Spirit, or 3. striking features of Mayor Lim, who had himself come donning a much coveted, maroon turtle neck.), then why in the world were these fragile creatures allowed to compete with bull-strong adults in the battle of Who Wipes the Statue First? or Who Gets to Wipe the Statue? Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines because children are safe, cared for, and looked after.

            I was musing myself with these things while the crowd was jumping in praise when, out of nowhere, I heard the most insulting comment yet (in Filipino, it sounds more demeaning): Para silang mga baliw! I held back and simply looked at the one who made that sweeping statement, as if to tell him what cannot be articulated: disappointment and anger. Instances such as this induce me to think. If they looked crazy expressing their belief the way they know how, what does he think of himself, ironically pursuing the path that would help perpetuate that very belief? What is the point of a feast, of this Feast if not to allow people to go gaga over their Savior? I am aware of religious fanaticism, but where does really one draw the demarcating line between this and genuine religious expression? And even if one is able to distinguish, what made him think that he was on a superior level of spirituality when, clearly, he could not even feel the aura of a one big crowd asking for the divine to come and touch each and every one’s life? How could his terrorism muster the will to drop the bomb on his very own kind? Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines because people are very religious and respectful of others.

            On a more positive point, the newly installed Archbishop of Manila, Luis Antonio Tagle, delivered the most down-to-earth homily during this Feast. I am not disputing the reputation of the former Arbishop, Gaudencio Cardinal Rosales. He has his own ways. In fact, his is, rather, sublime. But I have to admit that his delivery is not as vibrant and humorous as his successor – the very elements which, in my own terms, constitute a true link with “ordinary” people. Having already attended the Feast of the Black Nazarene thrice, this was the first time I'd seen the crowd laugh, not only once at that! The Archbishop was very much connected with the people, even pausing for some seconds to laugh at his very own jokes, while the people laugh all the more at the cuteness of a bishop lost in laughter. I think so, too. Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines.

            We were supposed to help distribute pre-consecrated hosts during the communion, when the crowd went crazy! They have been doing this for the past years but never in my watch did they come as close that we were forced to retreat to safety. The ushers/Nazarene guards were shouting from everywhere, "Pasok na kayo! Pasok! Baka may masaktan! Hindi na sila mapipigilan!" Clutching hard at the Body of Christ, we made our way into the safe zone, thanking God for sparing dear life. I had the chance, though, to look back for the queue in was terribly slow, and from my estimate, the distance between the pushing and struggling devotees from us could just be 10 meters! We come in peace and mean no harm! Do they ever learn and listen, for that matter? Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines because people do not kill one another.

            Earlier, we had been deployed in waves. While waiting for my batch to be sent, I had a meager time to think of the extreme possibilities. What if the rumor of a terrorist attack was true? What if suddenly the crowd was in frenzy and I was caught up in the middle? I imagined myself, after the raucous event, lying dead, drenched in the very filthiness I was previously disgusting and, perhaps, blood all over the transfiguration-like whiteness of my soutane. It would not actually matter, I were dead after all. Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines because we worry about many things.

In my mind, I died a martyr. Soon, a beautiful photo of me would cover front pages of newspapers, documentaries, movies etc. The world will mourn for me, for the great loss; for I am too valuable an asset to die this young. Then, perhaps, Vatican would declare my speedy canonization for miracles would have been manifested through my intercession. But these were only products of my imagination. Seriously speaking, I was considering sending an SMS to my parents, just in case the situation goes awry. I had a personal check: Did I have a good life? If I die today, would I be contented with what I already did? Was I happy? My reluctance to say yes to all these queries had been overcome when I felt peace even while I was entertaining them. At that juncture, I was prepared to die. Funny coincidence, I later came across with this quotation: the only reason we die is because we accept it as inevitability. 

            To conclude, it will be more fun in the Philippines if we get rid of the pollutants; this applies to all. And it is more fun in the Philippines because we have Jesus, the Black Nazarene.