Once a year, like clockwork, the Philippines transforms from the noisiest place on Earth into something eerily similar to a ghost town. Streets empty. Malls shut their doors. Even your neighbor’s videoke machine — that relentless beast of a sound system — goes silent, as the nation slides into Holy Week.
For the faithful, this is the time for reflection, penance, and solemn prayer. For the rest of us, it’s a time for WiFi-powered staycations, last-minute road trips, and Netflix marathons — a spiritual exercise of a different sort. The question, however, remains: should you spend these holy days in quiet repentance or in blissful horizontal mode, binge-watching your way through guilt and gluttony?
Let’s be honest: most of us don’t even realize Holy Week is near until S&R starts pushing seafood platters like it’s the Last Supper, or until a Facebook memory reminds you that, exactly one year ago, you were stuck in the EDSA Exodus en route to Tagaytay, cursing both your Google Maps and your life choices.
By the time Maundy Thursday rolls around, the country essentially pulls the plug on modern civilization. Banks close. Sari-sari stores hang their “Day Off Po” cardboard signs. Social media slows to a trickle, save for people posting obligatory photos of “Visita Iglesia” stops, interspersed with Starbucks tumblers they pretend to “accidentally” photobomb.
But beyond the rituals and the religious memes — the burning question remains: must one observe Holy Week in pious silence, or is the long weekend simply the universe’s way of offering us all a government-approved excuse to sleep till noon and eat our hearts out?
On one hand, Holy Week is sacred. It’s the cornerstone of the Christian calendar, the ultimate reset button for the soul. It’s meant for introspection, gratitude, and — most daunting of all — self-denial. Think: fasting, meatless Fridays, and avoiding your ex’s Instagram stories even when the spirit is weak.
On the other hand, there’s the Filipino reality: a four-day weekend is a four-day weekend. Jesus may have carried the cross, but you, my friend, are carrying the burden of 300 work emails left unread. Can anyone truly blame you for trading the Stations of the Cross for the Temptations of the Couch?
Besides, modern Holy Week has become something of a choose-your-own-adventure. There are people who earnestly do the “Alay Lakad” barefoot, there are those who solemnly listen to Pabasa streams on Facebook Live, and there are those who observe a more modern tradition: observing nothing at all, except the house ceiling as they drift into yet another afternoon nap.
And let’s not forget the food! Filipinos somehow manage to turn even fasting into a feast. From buko salad to ginataang bilo-bilo, the dining table becomes a temple, and the only suffering involved is when the fridge runs out of leche flan.
At the end of the day, perhaps the answer isn’t whether you should spend Holy Week repenting or relaxing — it’s whether you can do both. A little prayer between Netflix episodes. A slice of reflection with your cassava cake. A quick apology to the heavens for that impulsive Lazada checkout.
Because whether you kneel in church or curl up on your sofa, the important thing is to emerge on Easter Sunday — not just rested, but hopefully, a slightly better human being.
And if not? Well, there’s always next Holy Week.
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