There seems to be a consensus among scripture commentators that the reference to children in today’s Gospel carries two ideas: one, children who were counted among the poor, the disadvantaged and the helpless; and two, children who in their simple innocence showed humility.
This Sunday is very special for us Filipinos. We celebrate every third Sunday of January, the Feast of the Santo Niño, the only Catholic country given this special feast on a Sunday.
Before this, we saw the phenomenal devotion to the Black Nazarene of Quiapo—probably one of the world’s largest processions, if not the largest on an annual basis.
These two events in January define a great part of our Filipino culture and spirituality from a Christian perspective, in a Catholic tradition. Quiapo is the serious devotional spirituality of Good Friday, the Passion and the Cross. The Santo Niño is the festive devotional spirituality of Christmas and, though not as pronounced and obvious, the Resurrection, Easter Joy.
Some who view these twin phenomena are “perplexed” and seek to understand the interesting mix of spirituality. One faith, many spiritualities.
In this case, it is one Christ with many facets, thus the different spiritualities and devotions.
Yet today’s Gospel seems to offer some integration, a synthesis point. “Unless you become like little children, you cannot enter the Kingdom of God.” It is our longing and desire to be one with God that is the synthesis. Clearly, it is the way of the child that leads us to this.
Powerful medicine
In the December Time magazine article on Pope Francis as Person of the Year, one line struck me. Pope Francis was quoted as saying that the Holy Mass and Holy Communion “is not a prize for the perfect but a powerful medicine and nourishment for the weak.”
This struck me as a very apt description of this spirituality of the way of the child. It is “not a prize” but “a powerful medicine and nourishment for the weak.”
The millions who attend the Quiapo procession do so both as a panata (a solemn vow, a pledge or commitment) and a petition. The former is often an act of gratitude for a blessing or miracle bestowed, while the latter prays for a blessing or miracle.
Millions all over the country this weekend will dance with festive fervor on the streets of different cities, towns and parishes in celebration of the Child Jesus, the Santo Niño, “Pit, Señor!” The mood will be celebratory but the root of the event is faith in the Child Jesus who is present, actively, providentially present in a loving way in the life of the individual, the family, the community of all those who will join the festivities.
This is the spirituality of our people. It is the extremely sacred Good Friday spirituality of Quiapo and the festive—almost bacchanalian—character of this Sunday’s Feast of the Santo Niño, from the Ati-Atihan of Aklan to the Sinulog of Cebu to the Tondo fiesta, and in so many other cities, towns and parishes.
Duality of spirit
At times some of us shake our heads over this seeming duality of character or spirit; a flaw not a few among us criticize. At one moment we are beside ourselves in grief faced with tragedies of epic proportions, be they manmade or caused by natural calamities, and in the next moment we are dancing and celebrating.
Quiapo and the Feast of the Santo Niño are no mere fiestas. They are special fiestas that mirror the duality of our spirit, yes, but also our strength. It is who we are. The child who is poor, disadvantaged and helpless but also the innocent and humble child.
It did not fully dawn on me until now the timing of these feasts. They come on the heels of the frenzied Christmas season. They ease us into what the Church liturgy calls ordinary time.
Perhaps it is providential. As we return to ordinary time, we are reminded spiritually who we are.
‘Jewels of the Pauper’
As I wrote this, the words of a Filipino masterpiece naturally came to mind, almost like a melody, a song that played in my soul and heart, Fr. Horacio dela Costa’s “Jewels of the Pauper.”
“. . . we are a remarkably poor people; poor not only in material goods, but even in the riches of the spirit. I doubt we can claim to possess a truly national literature. No Shakespeare, no Cervantes has yet been born among us to touch with immortality that which is in our landscape, in our customs, in our story, that which is most original, most ourselves . . .
“But poor as we are, we yet have something. This pauper among the nations of the earth hides two jewels in her rags. One of them is our music. We are sundered one from another by eighty-seven dialects; we are one people when we sing. . .
“We are again one people when we pray. This is our other treasure; our Faith. It gives somehow, to our little uneventful days, a kind of splendor; as though they had been touched by a king. . .
“These are the bonds that bind us together; these are the souls that make us one. And as long as there remains in these islands one mother to sing Nena’s lullaby, one boat to put out to sea with the immemorial rowing song, one priest to stand at the altar and offer God to God, the nation may be conquered, trampled upon, enslaved, but it cannot perish. Like the sun that dies every evening it will rise again from the dead.”
This gives us renewed hope as we face the year. “Viva, El Señor! Pit, Señor!” It is a celebration of the Feast of the Santo Niño today and much more. It is a celebration of who we are; the duality of our spirit where lies, perhaps, our untapped strength and hope as a people. In this poverty, we may discover yet our greatest treasure.
The jewels Father Dela Costa saw decades ago may have been hidden through the years, but they were not lost.
