Semana Santa in the Philippines is a performative experience that demands the coming together of people. But with a health crisis posing all sorts of limitations, did the majority of Pinoy Catholics get to fully observe Holy Week? By ZAXX ABRAHAM

These are unprecedented times, even for religion.

Semana Santa is a liturgical season characterized by rituals and processions filled with visual arts and decoration, and sometimes even bands playing religious music. These are meant to be celebrated on the streets. Imagine the scenes: throngs of crowds flocking Bisita Iglesia, the marching band accompanying the processions, the heat from the burning candle, Easter as a celebration of life like a rave party approximating a religious trance.This year, our cities are empty. It falls on a very restrictive health quarantine under the Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ) memorandum, with a lockdown restricting public gatherings.

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Catholics pray at the Antipolo Cathedral in Antipolo, Rizal on Holy Monday, April 6, 2020, amid the start of the lockdown of Rizal Province to curb the spread of COVID-19. Photo by Mark Demayo, ABS-CBN News

Catholic churches have responded to the pandemic by suspending physical masses and prayer meetings. Instead, these are now streamed online. So what happens to Semana Santa in a pandemic? Without the space of a Church or the streets to produce and shape ideas and beliefs, does Semana Santa become ephemeral and ungrounded? Does recreating rituals in our homes or using technology reduce the exchange of energy? Can the spirit be felt through electronic media?

Semana Santa as social and cultural force

Semana Santa is celebrated by the importance of the production and reproduction of space. The performativity of it is a creative process: people practice the rituals of their faith and they make the sacred tangible. The physicality of the space—from the scale of the Church, the dimensions of the street, and how the body reacts to the monuments, measurements, and movements—makes faith feel real. The week is defined by the full power and symbolism of faith being public.

Religion is about community, argues sociologist Emile Durkheim. Practices and rituals, he says, have cohesive, revitalizing and healing functions. Participating in these rituals, and even merely observing, establishes communion, solidarity and creation of consciousness.

A priest joins frontline church workers clean fishtail palm fronds in preparation for the observance of the Holy Week at the Sta. Cruz Church in Manila on April 04, 2020. Photo by Jonathan Cellona, ABS-CBN News

Semana Santa is supposed to strengthen the faith of the believer in their god, but at the same time it forces a bond of the individual to their society. Our celebrations are the coming alive of faith in literally touchable and movable santos. They bring together a community of relatives and friends with various spiritual needs. It is religion in five senses, theology meant to be performed and experienced. This may be the closest we come as mortals to touching the face of Jesus, to see the blood and feel the wounds up close.

Redefining Semana Santa 2020

Despite the lockdown, the population (Catholic or not, religious or non- practicing) has been celebrating the season in creative ways. We have been reinventing, recreating and redefining Semana Santa in times of Covid 19.

Holy Week begins with Sunday of the Passion, popularly known as Palm Sunday in which Jesus was acclaimed by a crowd waving branches. The practice here includes the palaspas (palm leaf fronds) from the unopened leaves of a coconut and complemented by the procession and blessing.

The palaspas weaving is usually done on the day itself because of the perishability of the materials. It is religious origami. It is cutting, folding, plaiting, coiling, braiding- made into your favourite animal or fruit and into patterns like zigzags, stars, etc. In recent years, ribbons and a print out of your patron saint of choice has been included in the bundle. It has to be a source of aesthetic pleasure because once it is blessed by the priest during the procession, it acquires potency that will last until the next Palm Sunday. It will be displayed in houses to ward off evil spirits and natural disasters.

A few days before this year’s Palm Sunday, the CBCP announced that priests can go around the streets to bless the palms. Right after, Facebook ads have popped up promoting sellers of palaspas ranging from 25 to 100 pesos. On your phone now, just type ‘palaspas’ on the search bar and it will lead you to different choices near your location. It can be picked up via courier. Other parishes have promised a drive through service of some sort: leave your palaspas outside to be blessed and pick it up later in the day.

Catholics pray at the Antipolo Cathedral in Antipolo, Rizal on Holy Monday, April 6, 2020, amid the start of the lockdown of Rizal Province to curb the spread of COVID-19. The province tightened its checkpoint procedures and shut down its borders to travelers except for health workers, food industry workers, and other authorized personnel. Photo by Mark Demayo, ABS-CBN News

Fashion magazines have promoted using other materials for DIY jobs if palm fronds are not available. In lieu of palms, some have opted to use any potted pot or flower arrangements. The CBCP said that the blessing ritual on this day is “without holy water” and so Instagram stories abound with people recreating a performative blessing by washing the palaspas under running water on the lababo, and spraying or misting their loved ones with water. In the event that a priest passes a street, the welcome presence is greeted with waving of palms, and in some cases, photos of their loved ones who are frontliners. From warding off evil and disaster, the palms are now used as a fortified symbolic health amulet.

The sinakulo or Passion Play begins on this day too, and usually ends on Easter Sunday. A retelling of the life, suffering and resurrection of Jesus, it is usually done in the plaza or on the streets. As in any play, it needs people—actors, stage managers, directors, etc. It depends on the visual talent of community members as it requires the backgrounds of tropical greens, props, and costumes.

The sinakulo has been told in two ways: the traditional bible based stories and as a dramatization of the plight of the people. It has been used as a base for retelling the metaphors of the nation’s current social, political, and economic issues. In 1976 after the declaration of martial law, Babaylan Theater Group and Anak Tibawan presented Christ as a farmer. The play ended with Christ leading a procession around the U.P. Diliman Catholic Chapel with the community singing “Bayan Ko. ” [1] In recent years, the sinakulo has been reinterpreted to reflect the “the government's response to the victims of Typhoon Yolanda, to Manila's Zero Obstruction Policy, to the demolition and relocation of informal settler families from so-called "danger zones." This year, TikTok is abound with witty retelling of current events reminding its viewers the values of sinakulo and responding to the need to inform everyone of the ever- present class contradictions in our society. Advocacy group Komunidad X has been hosting e- kwentuhans everyday on different topics covering the welfare and dignity of the artists and cultural and social workers.

Some parishioners and other groups have donated physical goods and grocery vouchers to the poor and stranded workers within the area. Photo from ABS-CBN News

For Maundy Thursday, events include processions of the carrozas, washing of the feet ceremony, Last Supper Mass and the Visita Iglesia —again, all needing the public life. Reverend Father Albert Alejo, SJ started his homily with a reminder to imagine and use visual cues. This was hosted on Jesuit Communications’ Facebook Live:

“Magandang araw sa inyong lahat, kung nasaan man kayo. Today is Holy Thursday o Huwebes Santo. Siguro yung iba namimiss niyo yung pagpunta sa simbahan or sa iba’t ibang simbahan, bisita iglesia or yung washing of the feet, yung pag huhugas ng paa or yung eucharist. Pero hindi bale, sa bahay niyo, tumingin kayo sa paligid, I’m sure meron diyang Last Supper. Diba? Last Supper sa may kainan.”

Oliver Quintana and Barth Matiquit started e- Semana Santa on Facebook to document the changing practices brought about by Covid 19. Barth says, “There’s a certain uneasiness being at home when I know, that this week would have been my busiest week of the year. I guess setting up an altar (which will be changed throughout the entire week) is my way of filling in what will be lost in my usual Holy Week routine.”

On the e-Semana Santa page, stories are shared of the cancelled motorcade of the carrozas and santos. The santos in the processions are made with movable joints at the neck and have arms to allow movement. It is meant to be seen by the public, to be made to emote along with the impassioned reading of the pasyon. Prized icons of painted wood or ivory, some of them heirloom pieces passed from one generation to another, are dressed in velvet robes with lush embroidery. Yesterday, interactions with the santos were via video calls and photos, with the option of viewing them up close and personal, eye to eye if one prefers. The robes used were simpler. The stage is all DIY/ para-paraan style, using whatever is available at home, decor-wise. Everyone can recreate and design their altar to get some feeling of sanctity. Musical bands for the processions are now via call in on loudspeaker, with the artists in their own homes. The practice of feeding the barangay after the procession became a community cook-out on Zoom video call.

An image of the Sto. Niño de Pasion de Makati goes around Barangay Poblacion in Makati City in a small procession on Holy Monday, April 06, 2020, amid the enhanced community quarantine. Photo by Mark Demayo, ABS-CBN News

Good Friday is when the public flagellations happen. Yesterday, devotees found a twist in their panata by doing it in their courtyards. In Manila, journalist Ezra Acayan was able to document devotees flagelatting, with the exercise showing less participants and less observers. Social distancing also put a limit to the practice of having someone “assist” in the ritual by hitting the person or by helping clean the wounds after. In Imitations of the Passion by Fernando N. Zialcita, some believe the practice of not bathing. In a pandemic where we are bombarded with reminders to wash our hands, the idea of not taking a bath gives one pause.

The practice of eating ginisang monggo on Friday, most especially on the most sacred Fridays of them all, has turned into monggo + whatever is in your pantry dish. From the basic mung beans sauteed in garlic, onions, and tomatoes, Viber groups have been filled with recipes of substitution by using gochujang and other spices, adding kale and whatever is in your fridge. Instead of a community meal, friends and family members are sending monggo dishes via courier. As I type this, I am eating monggo curry sent over by my friend Bea.

Techno- Religious Space

What we’ve been seeing is physical, location-based faith moving to a new online space. It is saying religious experiences can be recreated, with the human body in new rituals and redefined implications for conceptions of sacred space. What used to be spiritual connections based on what we experience using our five senses and being physically in the space takes on another meaning—with connection being the literal internet. The Semanta Santa online is very much situated in the real world, neither spatially nor temporally confined.

But who has access to the internet? And internet that is reliable? Only about 45% of the total population of 103 million. 23 million households remain unconnected to the internet in the Philippines. Access to this Semana Santa techno-religious space is uneven. Most of the activity happens on Facebook and can be accessed with the app’s free feature. Clicking on the links and watching the televangelism videos costs money. Johnn*, a security guard at a condominium in Mandaluyong, believes that attending mass during these times is important but he would rather use his limited and slow internet to video chat with his family.

While we see some religious items being sold online, the informal sector we see selling their wares near the churches do not have access to this space. The shift to this new techno-religious space is tipped in favor of and is best negotiated by the young and the rich. Does the young and the rich have more chances of nourishing the soul in cyberspace?

Sts. Peter and Paul Parish will conduct similar procession, with devotees advised to participate from their homes, within the Holy Week as regular activities and traditions are canceled due to the pandemic. Photo by Mark Demayo, ABS-CBN News

Semanta Santa in the age of COVID also shows the unequal access to mobility in the ECQ, with the ban only allowing private cars, bicycles, or walking. A 2015 study by the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) found that only 12% of Metro Manila households have a car. Those who have cars are seen dropping by the churches of their choices, praying in their cars but in near proximity to the church. Public transportation to provinces have been temporarily stopped, but those with cars are able to drive home to their provinces. JK Anicoche, one of the many migrants living in Metro Manila, says:

“Ilocanos kasi sa haba ng panahon ay migratory at bahagi ng diaspora. People from the barrios go to cities for better opportunities. So extended families are geographically extended din. Holy week is the time to come home, if not Christmas. So kung distanced na ang mga pamilya because of economic and other social reasons, may longing for “closeness,” literal and figurative, and that moment shared by family is important - being together at the time of death and resurrection of Christ (every year pinananagutan na patay ang diyos). May collective purging and collective salvation, things you can’t do alone or with small immediate family in the confines of small condos and apartments.”

Devotees on lockdown are encourged to recite the “pabasa” from their homes, ensuring safety. Photo from ABS-CBN News

JK’s family has been playing online games with themes related to religion to create a virtual sense of togetherness this Semana Santa.

The sacrament of confession these days has been a controversial topic. Can you text a confession? Can you video chat your sins away? Can this be possible given the need for it to be confidential?

In Fr. Alejo’s Maundy Thursday sermon, he discusses how Semana Santa is about social justice and is for the socially and economically disadvantaged. How we experience Semana Santa in this time of Covid-19 highly depends on our social classes and geographical locations.

For churches with parishioners from marginalized communities, Semana Santa ministry often means looking inwards. Whether online or offline, Semana Santa as penitensiya has also been recreated by most to mean malasakit by devoting resources to those in the margins, and fighting for their rights. There is power in the community, and given the times, such power needs to be wielded for us to be able to get the minimum social welfare we all need. Semana Santa reminds us of the themes of Life, death, rebirth, penitence, cleansing, communion, belief, and community.

With Easter comes hope. Nothing will ever be the same again. We find ourselves with a responsibility that made even Jesus tired—creating a new world. And now we must ask ourselves: What kind of world will we build once we emerge from our caves?

Zaxx Abraham is an urban planner. Her interests lie along the intersections of space, gender, culture, and transportation.

Banner photo by Ted Aljibe, AFP