Ask me what my religious affiliation is, and I'd immediately tell you that I'm a Roman Catholic. However, ask me the tenets of my faith is and I'd tell you my very complicated set of beliefs: I believe in one God, who is also the god of the Muslims, Hindus, Bahai's, Jewish and all other religions that believe in the singularity of the creator. I don't believe that Jesus is the son of God, I'd rather see him as an enlightened philosopher who died on the cross so that his teachings will spread all over the world. I believe that the Bible is just a mere book, that's why the fundamentalists in PEx hate me so much. I don't believe in the saints, except for Santa Clara for some reasons my logic could not answer. I don't believe in the concept of heaven or hell, there is no use living a perpetual existence of misery (or ecstasy) since life here gives us so many opportunities to learn and to experience many things. That's why even if reincarnation is not part of my religion, I'd rather put my hopes in resurrection in another time, place and body so that I may experience a different kind of sentience again. The list goes on, that in the end, one would doubt if I'm really a Christian at all. But my faith works for me very well, I don't even feel any guilt that I have deviated from what is supposed to be the foundations of my religion.
However, last Palm Sunday, I attended the mass because I had to accompany my mom at the church. At first, my mind was elsewhere - until the gospel part where the lay people re-enacted the final days of Jesus. It reminded me of the movie The Passion of Christ. So I began to listen attentively and tried to imagine the scenes in the movie from the Garden of Gethsemane to his resurrection. To be honest, I cried after watching that film. The scene where Mama Mary ran to Jesus Christ to help him carry his cross was too much for my mother-sensitive heart to bear.
When the gospel and their mini-Senakulo had ended, I was already in the mood to listen to the homily (which in truth, rarely happened).
The celebrating priest reminded everyone about the coming Lenten Season (Of course, it was a Palm Sunday after all.) However, what made his homily very interesting was that he began by giving the meaning of Semana Santa in several different languages, which means "holy week." Then, he translated the Spanish word Semana Santa to Filipino and it became Mahal Na Araw.
At first I didn't understand the relevance of his homily, until I realized the hidden wonders of our language. Indeed, Holy Week is Mahal Na Araw because Christ paid a very high price for our redemption - his life. Mahal Na Araw also symbolize Jesus' love for humanity by enduring all the pain and suffering for our salvation. Remembering how his character was tortured in the movie, it was an act of love indeed.
Such lessons from a priest, who I didn't even get the name, set the conditions for my activities in this year's Mahal Na Araw. While almost everyone I know is at the beach or spending their vacation somewhere else, (unlike me, who had to work the entire week) I decided to be one with the rest of Christianity by remembering and participating in all traditions that will relive the last days of Christ.
Perhaps, its a good time to do a deep reflection on things, now that my family is entering the twilight of a very big trial. My Christian roots are not that deep enough, but after that fateful mass last Sunday, I decided to take things a little slower and be a good follower of Jesus instead.
Even if I still cling on to those set of beliefs I mentioned above.
However, last Palm Sunday, I attended the mass because I had to accompany my mom at the church. At first, my mind was elsewhere - until the gospel part where the lay people re-enacted the final days of Jesus. It reminded me of the movie The Passion of Christ. So I began to listen attentively and tried to imagine the scenes in the movie from the Garden of Gethsemane to his resurrection. To be honest, I cried after watching that film. The scene where Mama Mary ran to Jesus Christ to help him carry his cross was too much for my mother-sensitive heart to bear.
When the gospel and their mini-Senakulo had ended, I was already in the mood to listen to the homily (which in truth, rarely happened).
The celebrating priest reminded everyone about the coming Lenten Season (Of course, it was a Palm Sunday after all.) However, what made his homily very interesting was that he began by giving the meaning of Semana Santa in several different languages, which means "holy week." Then, he translated the Spanish word Semana Santa to Filipino and it became Mahal Na Araw.
At first I didn't understand the relevance of his homily, until I realized the hidden wonders of our language. Indeed, Holy Week is Mahal Na Araw because Christ paid a very high price for our redemption - his life. Mahal Na Araw also symbolize Jesus' love for humanity by enduring all the pain and suffering for our salvation. Remembering how his character was tortured in the movie, it was an act of love indeed.
Such lessons from a priest, who I didn't even get the name, set the conditions for my activities in this year's Mahal Na Araw. While almost everyone I know is at the beach or spending their vacation somewhere else, (unlike me, who had to work the entire week) I decided to be one with the rest of Christianity by remembering and participating in all traditions that will relive the last days of Christ.
Perhaps, its a good time to do a deep reflection on things, now that my family is entering the twilight of a very big trial. My Christian roots are not that deep enough, but after that fateful mass last Sunday, I decided to take things a little slower and be a good follower of Jesus instead.
Even if I still cling on to those set of beliefs I mentioned above.
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