squids-on-a-stick (04/21/09)

Squids-on-a-Stick
Maria Reylan M. Garcia

Back in elementary, I always get dismayed whenever Lent was observed. It meant the canteen will serve less pork barbeques and more of squids-on-a-stick. That I have to be extra behaved because, according to my CLE (Christian Living Education) teacher, Papa Jesus died for my sake.

Lent meant torture for my playful age because it meant less television hours and more hours of visiting the school chapel. Even Eucharistic songs at Sundays tend to be duller and the energetic melodies that I look forward to, the Alleluia and Gloria were, for the meantime, postponed. All the more do I get bummed when Holy Week comes, since this happens to commemorate the saddest week in Jesus Christ’s life.

Eating nothing but fish for an entire week was okay, but my favorite cartoon channels off air for three days? It was torture, I felt like I was nailed on the cross.

Silly me, though I could not blame my young self. James Fowler, a child development theorist said during those years I was still under the Mythic-Literal faith, which meant I did not completely understand the core and essence of religious rites and customs. For as long as I prayed to my guardian angel every night before I sleep and not make fun of others, I was being a good child of God.

But, gradually as life began to present problems other than homework, my faith, my real faith also grew. Soon, Lent and Holy Week became more important to me. Soon, I understood my CLE teacher why I have to “extra behave.” Jesus died for my sake, for my sins. I saw the Holy Week as equally, no even—more significant than Christmas.

This may be the reason why I was much affected by news reports flooding the televisions and radios during the solemn week. Showbiz personalities raging havoc in Boracay. Actresses mouth-trashing and throwing shot glasses at some night club. Ramp models grabbing guns from security guards. Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.

While I was at home, reflecting on Santino’s kindhearted generosity to a drunkard magician, some people were crowding the Boracay Police Station with foul accusations of one another. Holy week was supposedly commemorated not just for relaxation but also for reflection. Holy week is not commemorated for bikinis and violence.

I have nothing against people using the Holy Week for vacation. Family ties are actually strengthened with a few days at the beach. Since mom and dad have no work, they can certainly bond with the kids and cope with what they have missed for the past months. That’s a good thing. But to drown yourselves in alcohol, partying ‘til you drop and engaging in promiscuity while some people literally nail themselves to the cross, or let themselves be whipped ‘til they bleed and engaging in abstinence and fasting, you’ve gone too far.

I am aware that not everyone celebrates Holy Week, I am aware that not everyone shares the same religion. But I am Christian, I am a Catholic. I couldn’t stand people desecrating the week when my Savior was crucified to death just to save the lives of these same insensitive people.

Last Easter Sunday, I went to hear mass and the good priest’s homily was about the three Rs that should be done during Lent, most especially at Holy Week. These are Relax, Reflect and Renew. Most people perfected the first R, some did the second R, but a few considered doing the third. Whether you’re a Christian or any other sect of faith, I guess we all need to observe these three things once in a while. The Holy Week was one of the best times to observe them, since we were all free from work and school.

At times, we need to gather broken selves, think about how we can be better, and then eventually vow to practice our renewed and reborn selves.

I am guilty of not being able to fully fulfill the three Rs, but in one way or another, I had shed some tears and felt an awakening pain inside my heart. I realized my faults, I realized their consequences. As a Christian, as a Catholic, every moment my Lord’s portrait of suffering was flashed on the TV screen or simply came across my mind, I wanted to rush unto him and help him carry the cross that was actually never his. As a human being, as a person regardless of denomination and beliefs, every moment I see the man called Jesus Christ, I wanted to still rush onto him, help with the 50kg cross and maybe change the already confused and wasted world.

Every time it’s Lent, every time Holy week comes I still feel dismayed. But not because of less pork barbeque at the canteen. But because one man suffered and died for my sake, for everyone else’s sake and many don't seem to care.

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Birthday greetings to my brother Ramon, who's entering the world of adolescence at 12 years old.