MY DEVOTION TO THE SENOR NAZARENO

January 9 had always been a red letter day for me ever since I could remember. 

This is the day when thousands of barefoot devotees of the SENOR NAZARENO commemorate the Traslacion (transfer or passage) commencing from the Quirino Grandstand back to the Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene.

A bit of trivia. The event being celebrated on January 9 is the Traslacion and not the Feast of the Black Nazarene which takes place on Good Friday. Also, the real name of the Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene (popularly known as Quiapo Church), is St. John the Baptist Parish, whose feast is on June 24, in honor of its patron, St. John the Baptist.

I am no stranger to the Traslacion as my childhood days were spent in the Tanduay/Arlegui neighborhood of Quiapo, Manila. Our place was ideally situated halfway between the Quiapo and San Sebastian churches, and a stone's throw away from Aviles and Mendiola streets. It is also a mere walking distance from San Miguel Brewery (San Miguel Corporation now) where my father used to work, and where Malacanang Palace is presently situated.

As a child, it had been a regular thing for my brother and I to tag along with our mom to Quiapo church to hear mass, after which we would go up the stairway situated at the back of the main altar to kiss the foot of the SENOR NAZARENO. It had been an almost daily routine for us to visit the SENOR, as we call him.

It had been customary in our neighborhood not to remove our Christmas lights and lanterns until after the Traslacion had taken place. As we eagerly anticipate the procession which passes by our street towards the end of the day on its way back to the Basilica, kind-hearted neighbors would prepare pitchers of water, sandwiches and boiled sweet potato for the devotees to quench their thirst and hunger after walking for several hours. 

Unlike now where the SENOR is conveniently placed on an andas (carriage with wheels) which enables it to glide along easily, in those days the image was borne on the shoulders of burly men (Hijos de Nazareno), such that due to its immense weight, the image would fall several times. Then and now, there is a rope being pulled by men on both sides of the andas that serves as a guide to keep the image aligned at all times. 

I take my hat off to the thousands of barefoot devotees who brave the scorching heat of the sun, hunger and thirst while traversing the streets of Quiapo. Watching them, I can't help but feel a sense of guilt. Why can't I be brave enough to be like these men and endure what they go through? Why am I afraid to be quelched by the sea of people who comprise the crowd? Don't I love HIM enough? This is nothing compared to what HE went through for us. I could only blame myself. Mea culpa SENOR.

This year was exceptionally hazardous, as a terrorist threat to disrupt the proceeding was imminent. Threat notwithstanding, it did not avert the faithful from going through with the Traslacion, armed with their strong faith that the SENOR would not allow the plan to prosper. HE will send his battalion of angels, led by no less than their Commander in Chief, St. Michael himself, to safeguard them. True enough, the intention to inflict havoc did not materialize.

A very touching scene in the Traslation is the "Dungaw", or a solemn ritual  where the the image of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel is brought to the balcony of the San Sebastian church, to meet her son as he passes by. This incident takes place at the wee hours of the morning as the procession nears its final stretch.

Finally after 22 hours, the procession arrived at the Basilica. The SENOR is finally safe at home. All throughout this time, the crowd who had not diminished a bit, is grateful that no untoward incident happened.

The SENOR must have been very exhausted too, but I'm sure HE was delighted to be in the company of thousands of devotees who love him dearly and would risk their lives for HIM.


One thing is sure, for as long as there are people who profess their love for the SENOR NAZARENO, this tradition will live on in the hearts of the Filipinos and the generations to come.