The religious baklita and babaeng baklitas (Part 2)

Saturday, 23 April 2011 22:25 Meggan Evangelista

Juan and Marias (Part 2 of 2)

As a child, I found the life-size bloody images of Christ scary. My cousin once dragged me to Señor dela Pacencia (Christ’s image after he was crowned with thorns and was caped in red) and I screamed and cried. I hated my cousin for years until I was old enough to realize these images do not move.

My favorite saints were always the ladies, the many Marias. My cousin would not have any difficulties making me approach them; I would brush my hanky on the Marias, whisper a prayer and make the sign of the Cross.

The procession of Marias was the most awaited sight. For me, it was like a parade of beauty pageant contestants in evening wear: Veronica with her handkerchief, Salome with her encensario, Cleofe with her broom, Marta with her cross. All of them had long hair, beautiful Caucasian women in long and expensive robes and veils. They also wore crowns so they really looked like beauty queens to me.

Of all Marias, Santa Maria Magdalena was my favorite. Of all the Marias, she had straight, wind-blown hair and no veil, probably to emphasize the famous story of how she used her hair to dry Jesus’s feet after she washed it with perfume. And she was carrying a bottle of perfume. Her face was sad but stunningly beautiful. Magdalena appealed to me as the Passion’s version of Aphrodite. Kat, Tin and I were avid fans of Magdalena. Her story stood out from other stories (and we’re not talking about the idea that she was changed and was forgiven). She was a story of a woman wrongly judged but so empowered. She was interesting.

Birhen Dolorosa is an extremely emotional image. Kat, Tin and I would go to the kalbaryo where she was housed just to look at her as if we had never seen her before. It was the saddest vision for me. She is always on the carosa in the procession, and a very dramatic ending she is: lamenting in dark blue robe, saddest face stained with tears, her heart stabbed by a number of knives. The mother in me felt her grief. I do not know how it affected the two girls but they favored the Birhen as much as I did.

Just now, writing this, I realized that San Juan stood out from the other male santos for me. I knew that he was the son Jesus literally referred to when He said, “Woman, behold thy son.” San Juan had no beard like the other male santos, and he had shoulder-length hair. He looked very feminine to me. And I thought that among them, he might be the one who’d be kinder and accepting of boys who were feminine (like me).

The Marias my friends and I adored, in the end, were only representations of which virtues we want to practice as we live our lives. The mother in Birhen Dolorosa and the misunderstood woman in Magdalena are characters my friends and I probably could relate to.

I grew up in Catholic ways. And there were many Catholic practices I enjoyed doing, such as the Holy Week tradition which is one very close to my heart. It was a tradition that excited me not only because of the many other things that went with it but especially because it was spiritually enriching for me. It was a time when I was able to distinguish which faith I want to hold; which beliefs I should question; which kind of God I want to have in my life. What society does for you is to let you develop your own faith; it allows you to define a personal religion, or even to decide whether to believe in anything at all.