In the Pursuit of God

I have had these pictures uploaded for some time now. As you all know Easter was some time ago. However I have been neglecting writing a blog on my Holy Week experience in the Philippines. This is for a number of reasons; the most glaring is it may lead me to discussing the religion here. This is one of the few things, I grudgingly admit, I don’t enjoy in the Philippines. It is also the topic of which I would like to choose my words very carefully so as to not overtly offend any person. So up to this point in time I still don’t know what I want to write regarding it all. You may notice a lack of anything poignant in this blog for that very reason. However I realized I had to post these pictures sooner or later or they would be left in the proverbial dust.

This blog will focus on Good Friday, however Holy Week as a whole was full of parades, and activities, and of course lots of Masses. I participated in very little of Holy Week, I kept my distance as a consciences observer.

On Good Friday I went to the Island of Gimaras to witness the celebrations in the Municipality of Jordan. I must admit at first I was grotesquely excited for this experience. People had been telling me for the past year that on Good Friday in Gimaras they actually crucify people. Not to the death of course, but the act itself is recreated. I had a hard time believing they still actually nailed people to the cross, so I took it upon myself to witness this to be sure.

There was a play of the days before the crucifixion of Christ. Through out the play, which was in Illonggo, I kept wondering are they really going to nail a living person to the cross. The overall local consensus was yes, but I was still quite skeptical. Then came the part in the play were Christ was flailed with a whip, there was very little acting. I repeat. Flailed. I than asked did this person volunteer to act as the Christian savior Jesus Christ. Sure enough, he volunteered.

It came to the end. This was what I was waiting for through the two hours of the play. Now that the time had come, I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be there. I wasn’t at all aware of how a person could volunteer to have nails driven through his extremities.

For the actual crucifixion the play changed venues from the plaza pavilion to the top of a hill a short walk away, all the while Christ carrying his cross. This was a time of mad rushing of people to get “good” seats. I decided I would hang back; I have a camera with good optical zoom. I’m glad I did stay back. I’m upset I didn’t get closer. I still don’t know which it is.

After it was finished I talked to a number of locals about it. They saw I was clearly a little perplexed by this whole celebration. I than voiced my concern for the volunteer. I mentioned his physical wounds to the people. They all told me not to worry, that the wounds of the person who volunteered would heal very quickly. They assured me that all the wounds of volunteers in the past healed in a matter of days. I didn’t voice my very real skepticism, but I did ask why did they heal so quickly? They told me, “Because he did it for God.”

What did he do?