Last Palm Sunday ushered the Holy Week.
My husband and I usually go to the 10:30 am mass at our parish church but because of a happy development in our family that day, we decided to go to the 5:30 pm mass instead. Besides, the weather was too hot for my husband's blood pressure, not to say about the crowd carrying and waving their palms.
Again, the attendance in the afternoon mass was beyond my expectations. The church was full to the brim, even overflowing at the wings. The street to church was dominated by palm vendors offering their wares, some sold fruits and street food.
This show of worship belies the saying that many people only go to church "when they are hatched, when they are matched and when they are displatched".
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Way back to my childhood, many of our town folks only go to church during the Holy Week. I recall that old folks dig into their antique, naphthalene-smelling wooden chests for their old terno (Filipino dress) together with their similarly smelling fans.
I recall the over-crowded church with minimal ventilation; people even squeeze in the already packed pews just to sit. One time, I sat beside an elegantly dressed elderly lady in her Filipino dress who kept fanning herself, believe me, I could hardly breathe. As a child I couldn't stand that "smell" of the "old", tucked-away-for-a-long-time clothes that absorbed the smell of mothballs. Every time she opened her fan, her stiffed, heavily-embroidered sleeves, made of piña (pineapple) or abaca (Palm) cloth scratched my upper arms; it felt itchy, but i had to stay put for the church service was going on. I couldn't complain. Everybody stayed patiently until the lengthy services were done, this is their lenten sacrifice.
During the days of Holy Monday to black Saturday, life in the province is more subdued; people refrain from heavy work, loud laughter and attention-getting activities. The point is to focus and reflect on the passion of Christ. Old folks advise the young not to climb trees or high places lest they fall and if they sustain wounds, healing does not come quickly. Some even go without a shower on Holy Thursday and Good Friday. I don't know how they coped, but I recall in those days the weather was bearable, there was no climate change then.
On MaundyThursday and Good Friday, temporary altars were set in strategic corners along the streets as prayer stations, Singers were hired to sing the passion of Christ in non-audible lyrics, to me it sounded like they were yawning loudly. This singing practically goes on the whole two days as singers take turns. People go there to meditate while the singing goes on. The procession on these two days is an activity no one wants to miss, it is attended by majority of the town folks, except the elderly who can no longer walk. On black Saturday when the church bells ring, old folks tell the children to keep jumping to grow tall. I also did some jumping but apparently I didn't jump high enough so I'm not tall.
Everyone looked forward to Easter Sunday when people can celebrate. They prepare festive food, some go to the beach to keep cool. Like Christmas it is said that Easter is just as important if not more important. When I was "still cute", I was often chosen to replace the black veil of the Blessed Virgin to white as She meets the risen Lord at the Easter procession.
Have a blessed Holy Week everyone!
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