Filipino Nazarene

PINOY KASI


Filipino Nazarene
By Michael Tan
Inquirer

Last updated 11:11pm (Mla time) 01/11/2007

QUIAPO’S Black Nazarene is perhaps the most publicly venerated religious image in the country. The much beloved Santo Niño is, well, beloved, pampered as a child would be, recreated and renamed many times over. But the Nazarene is held in awe, as we saw earlier this week when an estimated 100,000 people jostled and sometimes even fought each other for a chance to touch the image.

The Nazarene’s power is in its imagery, a suffering Christ carrying his cross on which he is to be crucified. He appeals to those who suffer, in whatever form and for whatever reason. And they come not just on Jan. 9 but every other day of the year, streaming into the church in Manila's Quiapo district to join the long queues for a chance to touch the image as they make a request.

Perhaps “supplication” is a better term. I doubt if people actually call out to the Black Nazarene. Officially, he is "Nuestro Padre Jesus Nazareno" [Our Father Jesus Nazarene]. A booklet from the church has his image on the cover and the caption “Jesus Nazareno de Quiapo” ["Jesus Nazarene of Quiapo"] almost a way of declaring he is Quiapo’s.

And indeed he is, if we speak of where he is enshrined. Yet, the image did not originate in Quiapo, or the Philippines. It was crafted in Mexico and entrusted to a Recollect priest and then transported on a galleon to the Philippines, no one knowing when exactly but the year 1606 is usually cited because that was when the first group of Recollect friars arrived in the Philippines.

There are actually two Nazarene images. In the late 1990s, a bullet damaged the Nazarene's face, so Quiapo’s church administrators decided to take more precautions. Today, on the main altar is a statue -- not accessible to the public -- that carries the original 17th-century head. On a side altar is another Nazarene with the original body, still there for people to touch.

The Nazarene comes out several times a year, almost as if to greet his many devotees. Besides Jan. 9, there are processions on Jan. 1, on the Sunday preceding Holy Week (for a Way of the Cross) and on Good Friday. The image that is used is the one from the side altar, except this year, when the original head and body were reattached for the grand procession to Luneta and back to Quiapo.

Touched

Touch is so important in the venerations. Inside the church, devotees touch the foot or the cross. During the processions, they try to get on the "carroza" [carriage] transporting the Nazarene, again to touch the image. Those who are less physically fit have another recourse, and this is to throw a handkerchief or a towel to the carroza, for the Nazareno’s guardians to rub on the image. The cloth, now “touched,” is then thrown back ... hopefully to the owner.

Touch is magical because that physical contact is seen as vital to getting the powers of a venerated image. In touching, one is touched. Touch takes on a temporal dimension as well, with the belief that the Nazarene is even more potent on Jan. 9. This year, Quiapo’s administrators organized several days of devotions, including, on Jan. 8, transporting the Nazarene from Quiapo to the Quirino Grandstand at the Luneta, where there would be more space for devotees, who were asked to queue up so they could touch the Nazarene. That was almost symbolic, given that when the Nazarene came over from Mexico in the 17th century, it landed in Bagumbayan, now known as Rizal Park.

But thousands still decided to join the crowds on Jan. 9, as the Nazarene was transported back to Quiapo from Rizal Park.

It is in Quiapo where devotees compete to touch the Nazarene. ABS-CBN Broadcasting’s cameras dutifully captured Pinky Webb following the footsteps of Noli de Castro, helped along by other devotees so she could get onto the carroza. (Do I hear jokes about ABS-CBN becoming not just a political party, but also a religious "cofradia"?)

The Nazarene devotions are not a matter of “pagdadasal,” or prayers, but of “panata,” or vows. There is supplication here, but there is also negotiation: I will devote my life to you, if you would just grant my wish. It is not a demand, certainly, but the implicit message is that one goes through hardship to get to the image, whether on Jan. 9, which I see almost as a masculine ritual of religiosity, or on any other day of the year, for the more feminine rituals, which, mind you, are not necessarily less difficult, as when devotees make their way up to the altar on their knees.

Quiapo

Many people presume that Jan. 9 is Quiapo’s fiesta date. It is not. The Quiapo parish’s patron saint is St. John the Baptist, whose feast day is on June 24. In a way then, the Nazarene is Quiapo’s guest, but a very important guest who honors the house he’s visiting. And if the Nazarene is perceived to be so miraculous, then Quiapo church itself, and its environs, takes on some of the attributed power.

It’s not surprising Quiapo has attracted brokers for all kinds of power, from vendors of "anting-anting" [amulets] and medicinal plants to fortune-tellers offering some control over life’s uncertainties. It’s not surprising, too, that Quiapo church administrators appealed to politicians, right before this year’s Nazarene festivities, not to exploit the devotions for electioneering. Some politicians still showed up, attempting to bask in the Nazarene’s aura.

Devotees also watched the procession unfold almost with trepidation, worried about any damage to the statue, or the carroza ropes slackening, or, the Nazarene forbid, fatal accidents -- all, people believe, omens of a bleak year for the nation. To the relief of devotees, this year’s procession passed almost uneventfully, except for the usual fainting and minor injuries.

Watching the Nazarene devotions, on Jan. 9 and the rest of the year, always reminds me that Quiapo isn’t just a central district in Manila. Quiapo is in many ways the center of the Philippines, a crossroads where Filipinos of all ages, genders, classes, ethnicities and religion converge. People go to Quiapo’s church to pour out their troubles; in effect, the Nazarene has to “listen” to the nation’s many trials and tribulations. But people don’t go to Quiapo in desperate resignation; they’re there to strategize and negotiate. Here, the panata is not just a vow of religious devotions, but also a vow to take on life’s challenges, emboldened by the pilgrimage to Quiapo and the Nazarene.

After four centuries, the Nazarene is Quiapo’s, but precisely because it is Quiapo’s, it is, too, the nation’s -- a Filipino Nazarene.

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Correction to Wednesday’s column: I learned from our readers’ advocate, Lorna Tirol, that Marietta Giron has been ill and has not been handling the Inquirer’s consumer column for some time now. Instead, we have Linda Bolido, whom you can write to at lbolido@inquirer.com.ph.

Also, it is Raul Concepcion, not his twin Jose Concepcion, who does the oil watch.