Good Friday

This is a hard post to write.

Let's start by saying I'm a bit more of an outsider here than usual--even though I married Sharon, who was raised in a traditional Roman Catholic family, I'm very much a Jew--and here, I'm a Jew in a nation that is overwhelmingly Catholic.

So I expected to be an outsider when we went to observe the crucifixions in Pampanga yesterday. In truth, I expected a LOT of things yesterday, and not many of them were realized.

I expected to see people voluntarily have themselves nailed to crosses--that part most certainly did happen. 6 times, in fact, including one woman in the role of Christ.

But beyond that, it was extraordinarily different than I expected. I thought there would be a great sense of solemnity, but that was pretty far from the case; in fact, the atmosphere would be better described as carnivalesque. The huge crowd was catered to by a horde of food and merchandise vendors that lined the street leading to the...what to call it? Field? Event arena? Hill? I'm not sure. It could have been a street festival for any occasion at all. The only overt reminder of how this was going to end was the hill itself--surrounded by two concentric rings of chain-link fencing, sporting three stark white crosses at the summit.

To stand outside the perimeter to watch was completely free; but as we quickly discovered, for a small fee--500 pesos--we could get courtside seats (that's obviously an exaggeration--there were no seats here--standing or squatting only). Who could resist? Certainly not us--nor the could the others up there with us, a crowd mostly comprised of foreign tourists and members of the media, accompanied by a large group of men dressing the part as Roman centurions (painted cardboard armor and drawn-on beards). So there we were, a mere 10-15 feet away from the action, able to see it all in fine detail--6 of the faithful submitting to having themselves nailed through the palms.

What to think of this?

I have never attended a public execution--with any luck this is as close as I'll ever get. But I couldn't help but realize that this festive atmosphere--all of these smiling, happy people (perhaps as many as a thousand, from the look of it)--was no different from ever similar moment in human history. Public execution has always brought out the townsfolk, picnic lunches in hand, to watch the criminals receive their just punishments, and be thankful it's not them suffering the long arm of law.

Why was I there? The official Church has condemned this practice. There was no member of the clergy present as an officiant. No prayers were offered (except by those who were to be crucified). There was no official reenactment--no crown of thorns, no words from the Bible, no lines of dialogue.

When the hammer was raised, why didn't I look away? Why instead did I make sure my camera was rolling, so I could get the best photos and video possible? Why didn't I gasp in horror when the hammer came down, when I could see the nail driven in, when I could see pain on their faces? Moreso, why didn't a crowd of a thousand react in horror? I heard only a few scattered gasps, a natural enough reaction to the sight of anyone submitting themselves to any willful act of physical violence--but no great swelling of what I would call heartfelt religious fear at witnessing the reenactment of the death of Jesus Christ. Are we all so desensitized?

I was not expecting to have my own moment of religious epiphany--but I thought I might see others who did. In the end, all I saw was a crowd hungry for entertainment, devouring the show.

So I really don't know what to think or feel about what I saw yesterday. I don't doubt that those who volunteered for this act did so out of some sense of the expression of their faith--but I don't know how much of that was shared. I am glad I went--but mostly because I come away with more questions than answers.

It seems odd that this would end up being the final trip of our GSE experience; tonight, a dinner...tomorrow, a free day in Makati before our farewell dinner in the evening...then the flight home on Monday morning. I had thought it would be important to be here for Holy Week, and to witness the event surrounding it, and I was right--it was important. Now I just have to figure out why.

Lew