This article, originally published in The Windhover: The Philippine Jesuit Magazine, contains the author’s reflections on his and his brother Jesuits’ trip to Naga City for the Penafrancia fiesta in September 2023. Rappler is republishing this article with permission from the author and The Windhover.
Theologically backwards. Religious fanaticism. Overly sentimental piety. Irrational faith. These are just some of the criticisms directed towards popular expressions of the Catholic faith, e.g., the procession of the Black Nazarene and the feast of Our Lady of Peñafrancia. There is also the tendency to lump together the devotees as the “uneducated masses,” which is definitely not always true and can be derogative. Sadly, the criticisms also come from within the confines of the Church, including myself.
I admit I’m guilty of some of these unfair judgments and mischaracterizations. Coming from the world of sophisticated theology, it’s indeed easy to be condescending toward these faith expressions (for example, popular piety, medieval-like devotions, and completing novenas for a particular petition), to subject these into theological critique, and to impose my own logic of faith on them. My journey to Naga City in September 2023 was not a mere physical journey; it was also a journey within — an interior journey of self-confrontation.
On the day of the Traslacion — the transfer of the image of the Divino Rostro (Holy Face of Jesus) and Our Lady of Peñafrancia from the Basilica to the Naga Cathedral — Brother Raymund Belleza, SJ, led us Jesuit juniors and the fathers with us into a reserved area located on the second-floor veranda of a building. This would allow us to have a better view of the procession in the afternoon. We climbed the smalls stairs with two bodyguards manning the narrow entrance to the veranda.
Not everyone had access to it. Obviously, we were seen passing through the crowd by people standing on the street as we went up. If I remember it accurately, one lady grabbed my attention and told me that she knew the Jesuit superior. She requested me to inform the guards for she was barred from climbing up. I responded that I would reach out to the superior. I really felt shy.
I was given stalks of flowers to be given away to the voyadores, the male devotees who accompany and carry the Lady’s statue, who would approach me and ask for it. Unknown to me, the flowers possessed miraculous powers for them. I got to know this through Brother Raymund and the personal sharing of Kuya Jonathan, who is a voyadores. I was there to see, to be exposed to their religion and culture, which are intertwined.
Standing on the veranda waiting for “Ina” to pass through, I felt like an outsider. The moment I reached the veranda, I became more conscious of the privileges bestowed upon a visitor. Up there, I was with some priests, my fellow seminarians, and others who had access to it. The distance between myself and the devotees was both visible and concealed.
Externally, I was up there while most of them were down there. I was throwing stalks of flowers from an elevated place and the men were trying to catch them. I was enclosed in a space far from the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Internally, I couldn’t make sense of what might happen. Questions in my head remained. How will I react to the Traslacion? Will it elicit positive or negative feelings?
The Divino Rostro was processed first before Our Lady of Peñafrancia. Observing the procession and the devotees, I couldn’t avoid asking these questions: Why are they less enthusiastic when the Holy Face of Jesus is approaching compared to “Ina”? Is Mary higher than Jesus Christ? Why give more attention to “Ina” than Jesus? I tried to suspend my judgment.
I did my best to broaden my narrow horizon, thinking that maybe, the people know better than me since they’ve been doing this for a long time. The overwhelming number of devotees spoke for itself. There was something special in “Ina” which I felt I wouldn’t comprehend in the clearest terms.
A particular scene which was highly symbolic and etched in my memory involved “Ina,” the priests, and the voyadores. The priests garbed in their Roman black cassock were guarding the statue of “Ina” placed on the top of an orb-shaped andas (carriage) from the bare-foot and sometimes half-naked voyadores who were trying with all their might to climb up to touch the Lady. The priests were wielding long sticks to ward them off.
I understand the reason why they were there. Many years ago, “Ina” was stripped badly of her clothing due to the unruliness of the devotees. I heard from Kuya Jonathan, a voyadores who shared about his personal devotion to “Ina” and what he does as a voyadores, that those who usually go up higher to be able to touch “Ina” are drunk and their motivations range from gaining pride for having the chance to touch her to receiving graces and blessings out of sheer devotion.
Yes, their faith expressions aren’t perfect. To romanticize them would do injustice to their human realities. Anyway, I couldn’t discount the authentic faith expressed by them despite its ambiguity. After all, no faith expression done by humans is perfectly pure.
The contrast of imagery between the priests and the voyadores are symbolic of the tension between the institutional Church and the popular religiosity of the people. Misunderstandings on both sides are common. In some quarters of the Church, the popular expression of the people’s faith is dismissed and ridiculed as lacking firm theological foundations. On the other hand, some lay faithful don’t find energy and resonance in the Church’s dogmatic and liturgical style.
Is the Church preventing the faithful to practice their unique display of religiosity by looking down upon it or by rigidly imposing one “higher” way? In my feeble attempt to bridge the distance between myself and the devotees, I slowly understood the plurality of faith expressions. My own faith expression is not the standard and absolute norm. The way I pray differs from the way they pray. Silence and noise can be both means of encounter with God. Faith expression is ever colorful and must not be reduced into one form.
Witnessing the Traslacion firsthand was very meaningful for me. I couldn’t deny the faith I saw among the faithful. The voyadores trying to touch Mary. The faithful withstanding the heat to show their love for Ina. The shouts and claps as the Divino Rostro (Holy Face) and Ina were gradually approaching. Who would do all of these without devotion? Devotion also means a feeling of ardent love and this feeling springs from the heart. Whatever their intentions were, the most important thing was they were there to be with “Ina.”
All these were concrete and real occasions. Who am I to judge the “validity” of their faith expressions? Being there opened my eyes to what faith can do to people and what it is essentially. Faith is this affective relationship with and trust in God. Honestly, I need to develop more of this. The simplicity and the affectivity of the people’s faith stands as an invitation of depth to an overly rationalistic conception of religion.
Witnessing them enhanced my faith despite observing from a distance both physically and spiritually and with the privileges I had in place. Feelings of awe and guilt welled up because of the judgments I easily made and my condescending attitude towards them.
In the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences’ Final Document of the Asian Continental Assembly on Synodality, the Asian practice of taking off one’s shoes in entering houses or temples was mentioned and honored as a beautiful sign of respect, an indication of how we are conscious of the others whose lives we are entering into.
In this way, it can be interpreted as an expression of the deep awareness of sacredness coupled with authentic listening not infected by prejudices and biases. Visiting Naga as an outsider, I tried to take off my shoes. I’m grateful to the sacred place of Naga for challenging me to live out this spirit of respect for and openness to the sacred which permeates cultures, peoples, and places.
In Naga, I sensed, in the words of the bishops of Latin America referred to by Pope Francis in his exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, “the people’s mysticism.” — Rappler.com
Kevin Stephon Centeno is a Jesuit scholastic. Born in Oriental Mindoro, he obtained his bachelor’s degree in philosophy and spent five years of seminary formation at Saint Augustine Seminary in Calapan City. His views do not represent the position of the entire Society of Jesus.
