MY FAITH IS WHERE I REST

“Nuestro Padre Hesus Nazareno, Niluluwalhati Ka namin!” I sang as I clapped my hands along with thousands of other devotees. I was only eight years old when my mother forced me to memorize the songs and attend these kinds of masses. “‘Nay, who is that black statue carrying the cross and why are people mounting his carriage?” I asked. “That, anak, is the Nazareno, and people are mounting his ‘andas’ because to touch that sculpture is already a miracle itself and that’s up to their faith.” That seems like a simple answer.

Written by: Andrew Miguel Natividad

Layout by: Aurora Isabel Madali

January 11, 2024 | 8:30 PM

I’m 20 years old, the faithful me has slowly faded throughout the years. Busy with work and school tasks as a college student, the celebration of the Feast of the Black Nazarene has not been my priority for years. Even until now, I don’t know why it’s being celebrated or why it looks burnt or even what’s with the color theme. Although I can reason with my mother why I haven’t been devoting, my reason is not justifiable and I know it’s wrong. But still, I just haven’t found the sense of going to a very claustrophobic event just to touch a statue.

“Ikaw ha. The Lord will get mad at you. It’s been nine years since you’ve last attended the Feast of Nazareno,” my mother exclaimed. “‘Nay, I’ve told you hundreds of times before and I hope I won’t tell you this again: I’m busy,” I answered back. “Anak naman. One day of devotion won’t hurt you and your tasks. With this celebration, you can view it as a pause from all of these paperworks,” she said back. “One day of being absent from work is one day of deduction to my salary, ‘nay. I hope you understand. Once I graduate and find a job where I handle my own salary and time, I might go to Quiapo one day,” I said. “I have to go, there’s a customer waiting. Bye. Love you,” I said as I hung up the phone and got back to work.

The customer is a middle-aged man wearing the usual maroon and yellow clothes for the traslacion. Oh, he’s also barefooted and brought nothing but a 500-peso bill. “Hi there! Two pieces of chicken with regular fries please. Thank you! Oh, and can you make it quick? Thank you again!” the customer said. “Sure sir. Why in a hurry, sir? It’s a holiday, right? That would all be Php 2-,” I said. “Here’s 500, take the change. I’m not going to bring money after all. And yeah. I’m going to Quiapo for the procession. This day being a holiday is not to rest, but to go to the Nazareno,” he replied. “Your order’s being prepared, sir. Actually, this day is an opportunity for those who work hard to actually take a break, right?” I asked again. “Yeah, I mean, as an executive in a company, I do think I really need to take a break, but even though I handle my own time in my work, my faith is where I rest,” he said as he took his order and left. This made me think of how there are still people who view this day as more important than a whole day to rest. 

After my shift, I called my mother again. “Hi, mom! Just wanted to ask why people are so desperate to touch or just see the Black Nazarene? I know that touching it is a miracle, but why?” I asked. “It’s all up to your faith. You know that the Philippines is one of the largest Catholic nations in the world, right? We believe that these idols, these images have healing powers or are in direct connection to the one they’re based from, in this case, Jesus Himself,” she answered. “But we all know that these are just statues, right? Just for show?” I asked again. “Do we? Do you? Attending these statues’ feasts are believed by many as the reason for most of the good things that happened to their life. You can think that these good things happened because of them, you can also believe that it happened because of you alone. Again, it’s all up to your faith,” she said, which somehow interested me to go and see for myself what the hype is all about. “Ok fine. I’ll go, but just to see why this is so important,” I said. “Really? Oh, I’m so glad! Anyways, wear anything maroon and don’t bring anything except for pamasahe. Don’t wear any slippers or shoes, be barefooted. And also, you might want to hold on to the rope for a few seconds. Good luck, ‘nak. Love you,” she said as I hung up the call.

Being here outside the Quiapo church, waiting for the Black Nazarene with thousands of other people with banig to sleep on, brought me back to the times I was with my mother witnessing the different types of devotees. The first one that caught my attention were the people at the first aid station. I mean why are they even attending this when they can’t take the heat here? They just proved to me that this day alone should be a day to rest rather than praising a mindless statue. 

After that, I saw the mothers with at least three children. I even saw one with six children—two of them crying out of boredom. The mother should have just left them at home and played with their friends. This is just cruel to them. Then, I also saw the disabled people along the sidelines. Most of them are senior citizens on wheelchairs. Aren’t they even afraid of what might happen to them when, let’s say, a stampede happens? Then there’s the old couples, independent women, late teenagers, and even politicians and celebrities. It was very evident how diverse the crowd is.

After a few hours of waiting, three hours after the sun sets, I saw the Black Nazarene. The people sleeping woke up, the people playing stopped, the people talking silenced. Everyone stood up and waved their maroon, yellow, and white handkerchiefs. As I looked around, I saw some others who were teared up. I saw others who put their small child above their shoulders. I saw others jumping and cheering “Viva! Viva!” I saw how they expressed their faith.

And as the Nazareno nears, the place becomes more crowded as the devotees flood the area close to the statue. With all my efforts, I tried to escape the crowd, but it’s like I’m trapped in a river with a strong current. Then eventually, a man held on to my hand, and tried to bring me with him towards the andas. After that, I felt a rope. The rope that’s being pulled for the andas to move forward. And as I looked around, I saw it. That statue. The Black Nazarene. Looking at it personally and this close feels so different than looking at it in a picture. Then I heard a man say, “Ok na! Nakahawak na ako sa lubid! Tara na!” Then I saw some who were stepping on other people’s shoulders to reach and jump on the andas to hug the Nazarene. One of them brought out her handkerchief and rubbed it on the cross and the Nazarene’s foot. Also, people were throwing their handkerchief to the people on the andas and they, too, would rub it on the Nazarene. After that, I tried to escape the crowd and it took me at least 45 minutes to get out of it. I hurt my toes and sole with wounds on my arm and hands. I even bit my own tongue because some random man accidentally hit me at the back of my head trying to reach the rope. I will not go to that celebration ever again.

After going home, I called my mother. “Hi, ‘nak! Musta ang traslasyon?” she asked. “It was traumatizing. I hurt my feet and arms just to see the Nazarene up close for at most a minute. I can’t go back to that celebration ever again,” I exclaimed. “Really? Why’d you say that?” she asked again. “First, I saw people with illnesses and disabilities. I mean, they know they can’t go near the statue, it’s just a waste of their time. Second, it’s too crowded and it suffocates me. Third, it’s too hard to escape the crowd because everyone just keeps on moving towards the statue. Fourth, people stepping on and hitting other people. It’s just too violent. I think it’s just a bandwagon thing,” I explained. 

“Oh, really? Let me ask you one thing, anak: Was the crowd too diverse?” she said. “Huh? Well, yeah. There are even politicians and celebrities there. I also saw pregnant women, single parents like you, PWDs like I said earlier, couples, teenagers, and even some foreigners. Why?” “Did you notice how their lives are so different from one another, but all of them were there because of one thing which connects them all? That one common thing that connects them all is their faith. Their devotion to Him. This is not just a bandwagon. This is true faith. This is us Filipinos being true to our faith,” she said. 

“But why is it seen as a good thing when it causes pain and violence to the people who just want to touch the statue?” I asked. “Again, because of their faith. We believe that with this act of faith, He will hear our prayers. You only attended the celebration once and you got these sorts of injuries. Now, imagine hundreds of thousands of devotees who go there yearly and have those wounds. That means they are willing to be hurt just so He can hear their prayers. Despite the hot temperature or the boredom or the injuries and wounds they get, they trust and believe that He’ll hear us. Again, anak, it’s all up to your faith,” she explained. “Didn’t you feel anything special when you saw the Nazareno even from afar?” she asked. “I did, but I can’t explain it. I even felt relieved when I touched the rope and saw the statue up close,” I explained. “You saw it up close?” she asked. “Yeah, some random guy pulled me towards the carriage,” I added. “Well, that's one-of-a-kind. Anyway, anak, the traslacion is special to most because we believe in the power of faith. Like I’ve told you many times before, it’s all up to your faith.”

Now, I’m 34 years old with my spouse and my eight-year-old child. Since that day, I’ve been going to Quiapo to celebrate the traslacion. “Ma, Pa, who is that black statue carrying the big cross and why are people mounting his carriage?” my child asked. “That, anak, is Jesus Christ or the Nazareno, and these devotees mount His carriage because they believe that He’ll hear our prayers. They want to reach Him because of their faith in Him.”