March 29, 2024
Thousands of men wish to carry the carroza (carriage) bearing the dead body of Jesus (Santo Entierro) all at the same time making it harder to move it in a straight direction causing a lengthy procession lasting an epic 12 hours.
It goes forward then backward, sideways, turns around, and repeats despite all the yelling from different men trying to find synchrony amidst the chaos. Push, pull, isa, dalawa, tatlo, buhat! Not all the men can hear because their eyes and ears are closed and they just hold onto the cart’s railings with all their might. Their spirits have transcended into another plane. Some are in a trance. Their whole year of existence is summarized by this moment of self-redemption. Many believe that their sins are wiped out from this one single act of heroism, risking their feet getting crushed, their limbs broken, losing breath even, expecting forgiveness from God.
If I were male, I would most likely be one of this men, pushing my body in, to be as close to Jesus as possible.
Many people from other towns frown at the way we practice the Good Friday reenactment of the internment of the dead Jesus. But this has been our town’s tradition as far as I can remember. This is a once a year thing, and I don’t mind participating in my own way. In fact, I cherish every moment that I am right here and I am deeply grateful for being alive to witness our town’s religious tradition. Whether it’s fanaticism or religious zealotry, at least once a year there’s something that the towns people share in common and look forward to.
