| Passion Play in the Philippines by
Larry Kingston |
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 The
Philippines is a deeply religious nation, and as Asia’s
only officially Catholic country, they take the celebration
of Easter
very seriously. Father Pedro de Valderama, the priest
accompanying Magellan
(the famed Portuguese circumnavigator) was the first
person to bring Christianity to these far flung islands,
and his first religious act was Easter Mass in 1521.
The faith spread quickly from then on, as did the reverence
for holy icons and statues, particularly Santo
Niño de Cebu, an image of the infant Jesus
given to the royal house of Cebu as a goodwill gesture
by Magellan.
Fast forward 500 years, and Philippine Catholicism
is still going strong, partly because of its incorporation
of local traditions and the conversion of local deities
into saints. The Passion plays of Easter are the most
public and universal displays of Filipino faith, but
be warned, in their devotion the inhabitants of the
Pampanga
region stick very closely to the punishments meted out
on Jesus on the road to Golgotha.
Thankfully I’m not squeamish, as I was fascinated by
this re-enactment and wanted to compare it to similar
South and Central American Easter parades. Although
other Easter
or Senakulo events are held all over the country
I was told San Fernando’s celebrations were the most
exciting, and bloody.
 Easter,
celebrates the persecution, crucifixion and resurrection
of Jesus over three days from Good Friday to Easter
Sunday (the date of which being defined as the first
full moon after the Spring equinox, the traditional
date of the Jewish feast of Passover), and if you want
to get a feeling of how the Biblical Jesus felt then
this is where you’ll find all the agony and ecstasy
of the passion.
 It
all starts in the blistering mid-day heat, from the
church in the small village of nearby San Pedro Cutud,
where a procession of young men have their backs lacerated
with broken glass before they walk, beating themselves
with bamboo whips until their backs are truly bloody.
Then the kristos, carrying heavy wooden crucifixes and
wearing crowns of thorns, are herded down the roads
by Filipinos dressed as Roman soldiers. Flagellation
is an old catholic practice designed to purge oneself
of sin, and the culmination of the day could be seen
as a natural extension of this practice (it was so common
and deaths through blood loss so widespread the Filipino
authorities banned self-whipping in the 1700s).
 After
acting out the early Stations of the Cross (the penitents
often fell to the ground without the need for acting
skills; the combination of heat and blood loss made
their suffering very real) we reached the small hill
of Purok Kuwatro, the Philippines' Calvary, where a
huge gathering of tourists, TV crews and locals had
gathered to witness the final act. This year 8 men had
elected to shed their sins, or give thanks for mercies
granted, in this extreme fashion and they were first
bound to their crosses, firmly at the hands, upper arms
and legs to prevent excessive pain or bleeding, before
the most grisly part of the re-enactment was carried
out.
 Stainless
steel nails, glinting mercilessly in the sun, were held
aloft over the prone bodies of the faithful and chanting
filled the air, both from the supplicants and locals.
This chanting was a special prayer that was meant to
induce a trance and reduce the pain.
 Then
three hammers rose, a hush descended and three hammers
fell. A dull thudding noise was all that signified the
piercing of their flesh. Cheers rang out, and the hammers
rose again. My stomach churned, but I pushed forward,
wanting to confront my fear and look into the faces
of the others. The looks on the men were blank, perhaps
from the trance or to avoid showing pain. I know I would
have been screaming by then, prayers or no. They were
then hoisted into an upright position and the true crucifixion
began.
 I
think the heat must have been getting to me, as I started
to giggle and hum under my breath, “always look on the
bright side of life”. After I had stood around for some
time I saw a local man taking notes and assumed he was
a journalist.
“How long will they be up there?” I asked.
The reply came with a smile, “Until they feel cleansed,
or the pain is too much. It can be anything from a few
minutes to hours, it’s not a competition.”
My new friend Raoul was overheating as much as I was
and we retired to the shade nearby, where a makeshift
bar was erected. “So how long has this been going on?”
“Since the 60’s; the first guy to do it was a faith
healer called Arsenio Añoza and he did it every
year, for 15 years. I think he was a little crazy, but
his dedication has been an inspiration to others. Plus
it brings in good tourist money.” Raoul smiles as he
swigs his beer.
“So, who comes to do this and why?”
“Poor people, people with sick mothers, crazies, guys
who have something to answer for. Also we’ve had a big
increase in the numbers of flagelantes since the Pinatubo
eruption; they come for their village, in the hope
that the flooding will stop. It’s a pretty punishing
experience as you can see and they spend weeks preparing,
praying, fasting. I think a few people do it for the
fame, to prove they are real men, although we’ve had
women kristos before. In fact we had a Belgian woman
a few years ago and then a Japanese guy claiming his
brother was terminally ill; turns out he was a porn
star. Now only Filipinos can participate, which is sad
in a way, because people should be allowed to freely
express their religious feelings.”
 While
the rest of the country spends the days of Easter in
contemplation of Jesus’ suffering, even the TV channels
shut down, the men of Pampanga feel the real thing,
and you can’t help getting caught up in the intense
spirituality of the day. Even a cynical agnostic like
me found myself sympathising with Jesus and it was almost
like being in the crowd at that ancient Golgotha, though
thankfully, in 40 years, none of the Kristos has actually
died.
On departing the scene, I contemplated the power of
mind over matter, of religion and of human strength.
I found the whole spectacle moving in a way and I now
feel that my witnessing the suffering of others has
made me appreciate the little things in life more. Also
Raoul was right, a little miracle has been worked, for
the tourists, and their money, are now streaming to
this once poverty stricken region, helping these intensely
religious people lead a more comfortable life, at least
until next Easter.
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