When Memories & Faith Become Tyrants

I spent the whole Good Friday struggling with the sounds of karaoke out in the field, near our home, in the subdivision in Concepcion Grande. I was expecting the chanting of the Pasyon to commence after the rituals of drinking and eating. But from early evening of that day till dawn and from sunrise of Good Friday until sunset, the tunes coming from that shack were a mix of pop tunes and ballad and rock music.

In our home, we were not only bothered by the decibels but were also struck by the irreverence of the whole event.

I grew up in a surrounding when Christmas was eclipsed only in terms of gravity and importance by the Semana Santa, where grandmothers unschooled in any music academy sang Pergolesi's Stabat Mater without the burden of being careful about the sound because "it was classical." They just sang for their God and for their saints and for their sins. In black dress, they sang as if they stood at the foot of the Cross.

Life also stood still during the Holy Week. Colors were drained out of our shirts and only somber colors were allowed. In the absence of real sumptuary laws - rules that were made to guide our day-to-day life as consumers - these etiquettes represented commandments.

By noon of Friday, I was surfing the channel to find coverage of the Siete Palabras. There were several available but they were all emanating from the Metro Manila area. One had movie stars reading very emotional lines as they looked at the altar. The problem with this presentation was the TV camera always caught churchgoers looking at the celebrities instead of the altar. Another channel opted to deconstruct the Seven Last Words by bringing the sharing out of the church and into the secular world of ordinary events.

In a university where I taught a course called Introduction to Anthropology, the Chairperson always saw to it that we understood the crucial role that intro course played in our career as anthropologists. That course, we were told, could be the only course in Anthropology that most of the students would ever take. The course was a make-or-break course for us in bringing to young students the majesty and truth of what made us believers in cultures.

I thought the presentation of the "Siete Palabras" was also some kind of intro course to a faith.

Remember the two tramps in Samuel Beckett? In their senseless banter to while away time, Vladimir poses the question about the two thieves "crucified at the same time as our Saviour." "How is it," Vladimir continues," that of the four Evangelists only one speaks of a thief being saved."

I confess: am like Beckett's two tramps during the Siete Palabras. I am ready for the puzzle as well as the answers.