March 30, 1989
Hermandad de Semana Santa
I’ve come from my Malaybalay hegira to an empty house, what with the family off to the beach in Bataan for the remainder of the week. Just as well, because reentering city clime after five days of awesome silence amidst pines, fog, stars and fireflies is daunting enough without the bustle of working parents and the racket of restless children.
Earlier I had wanted to join them on a trip to the old town in Sorsogon to observe the traditional Lenten rites, but plans changed overnight after word came through that the south road has become a virtual obstacle course, unsafe at any speed.
So I find myself marooned with the usual options: Visita Iglesia on Maundy Thursday, the Good Friday procession in San Pablo, San Fernando, or Bacolor, and the vigil at San Beda towards midnight of Holy Saturday. In between, there will be time aplenty to read, update my journal, write letters, clean out files, and spruce up the house for Easter.
Aurora Cruz was right the other day, of course, when she lamented the passing of the Christian Holy Week of our grandparents and remarked that, “When one social web disappears without an adequate surrogate, an uncomfortable vacuum ensues.”
But not, she bears reminding, in Agoo up north. There, this past decade or so, her old friend Joe Aspiras has been trying to revive all the rituals of Semana Santa, largely succeeding in restoring their religious character and involving the entire community, patriarchs and urchins alike, un a colourful and moving panoply of ancient customs and traditions.
Literally the whole town is in ferment and flux the whole week as people from the furthest-flung baranggays converge on the Basilica de Nuestra Señora de la Caridad and the adjoining Plaza de la Virgen for the various events.
Kicking off the festivities is the traditional blessing of the palms on Palm Sunday, followed by the Estacion General and Via Crucis through Agoo’s main streets on Holy Tuesday. The public chanting of the Pasion at the public plaza begins on Maundy Thursday, immediately after the re-enactment of the Washing of the Feet and the Procession of the Blessed Sacrament inside the Basilica.
After the Siete Palabras in the afternoon of Good Friday comes two processions: that of the Santo Entierro at six, participated in by all the carrozas or statuaries depicting the various scenes and personalities of the Passion, and at eleven, of the Soledad.
Both are spectacular, but though the first is the more lavish production, the effect of the second is more dramatic.
When Joe first stepped into the picture, most of the old carrozas were either in a sorry state of disrepair or had simply disappeared, and the procession was a puny, half-hearted affair. Today, there are 27 of them, most life-sized and refurbished or crafted by the best artisans of Betis and Paete on commission by scions of Agoo’s principalia or Aspiras’ many equally devout friends from elsewhere.
Bejewelled, brilliantly illumined and enthroned on banks of massed fresh flowers, the images take nearly all of three hours to traverse the poblacion. That is because behind each carriage walk whole baranggays, brass bands and religious, civic and school organizations, making the town glow ethereally with thousand of lighted tapers.
The second procession is vastly more subdued and solemn. Only the statue of the Sorrowful Virgin, the Dolorosa, is borne aloft. Solitary, she goes round looking for the Dead Christ, accompanied only by women garbed from head to toe in mourning black. There is no music. The only sound heard is the shuffling of unshod feet, both tender and calloused, on the pavement.
The Soledad, I like to think, is my own personal contribution to Agoo’s religious festivities. Four or five years ago, I remarked casually to my old boss that, of all the features of Holy Week in Bicol when I was growing up and sideways, it had left the most profound impression. Aspiras introduced it in Agoo almost immediately after.
This is the reason why, I imagine, he has now recommended membership in a unique new feature of the sacred rites in that town, the Hermandad de Semana Santa, which entitles me to wear a special medallion and scapular and binds me to certain duties and responsibilities, among which are as follows:
..partic ipation in, as well as support for the liturgical rites of the Holy Week such as decoration of the Basilica, sponsorship of masses and other religious events, the feeding and housing of participants in said events when necessary and possible…
The membership also envisions that I will one day look after a carroza of my own in Agoo. It is for life, to be passed on to my heirs on my demise. I hope they will be as exceedingly proud of this rare honor when their turn comes, as I am, because it endeavours to keep a most precious heritage of our people alive for all time.
