Happy Easter everyone! Here’s the Hallelujah chorus from Handel’s The Messiah work which is appropriate to start the day right.
This particular song goes a long way back to my childhood days when GMA 7 starts their programming with a rendition of this popular song sung by a local choir. Sadly, that is a thing of the past but it has burrowed deep into my consciousness.
Featuring all the Spanish colonial era churches in Cebu and the city of Manila, these two files will help you make your visita iglesia either in Cebu or Manila worthwhile.
Check this downloadable PDF guides for FREE! CLICK ON THE IMAGES BELOW!!!
Visita Iglesia Cebu
Visita Iglesia Manila
Currently being featured at simbahan.net is a series of posts devoted to churches that are found in Cebu, Bulacan and pre-war Manila in time for the Semana Santa or Holy Week visita iglesia tradition. This practice goes back to the early Roman times when Christians visited 7 major churches in Rome. In the Philippines, it was introduced by the Spanish colonizers.
The series starts with a short introduction of the visita iglesia. It is then followed with 13 colonial era churches founded and built by the Augustinians in the city of Cebu and going down to the southeastern part of the province. Colonial era churches in Bulacan then follows. Paying homage to Intramuros, I have included a pre-war visita iglesia in the walled city with its now long lost major religious order churches.
Continued from Infanta flagellant-penitents, 3
Break of dawn as the first rays of the sun is piercing the sky and already a throng of curious onlookers have gathered ogling at the spectacle of 
skirted men with floral hoods flagellating themselves as blood oozes out from rows of neatly lined cuts. Some are leaving the group to walk the streets to the church, bow their heads, kneel and supplicate while others just came from doing that. At a given signal unknown to me, one by one, the men started walking to the other direction following the highway north.
What a scene! The first golden rays of the rising sun touching the earth and grasses and leaves still wet with dew as the flagellants, now a seeming throng, are trudging along a narrow dirt road with the saturated colors of the flowers and green hoods contrasting with the brown skirts and bloodied backs. Their individual panghampas swinging in every direction, unsynchronized but strangely choreographed. A few vehicles and people followed with those in the cars snapping photos.
continued from Infanta flagellant-penitents, 2
The click clacking of the panghampas woke me from my slumber. Not that it was deafeningly loud but ironically, it reverberated in my head, faint but eerie, floating above the slight din of occasional tricycles passing by as some of the denizens of Infanta are slowly awakening and preparing already for the coming day, a Good Friday. 0300H, and the cocks are starting to crow like imploring the town to arise even if the sun haven’t yet arisen. But only a few, heeded their call.
The image of the flagellant is something that stays in your mind, searing deep into one’s consciousness, ever present, like an apparition. I can’t just forget the sight: a starless and moonless night, the rather narrow streets illuminated with the yellowish glow of sodium lamps while people, albeit few, are going about their pre-dawn business. Some are tricycle drivers, smoking a few sticks of cigarette while chatting with fellow drivers while some are just lying on the top of their motorcycles, dozing off. The bakery is already well lighted, busy as the first batch of fresh pan de sal is finding its way to the glass display. Farther off the road, much less lighted, a lone figure, skirted with wilted banana leaves and hooded, is slowly trudging, hitting his back and bruising it. The click clacking breaks the silence as the flagellant turns left at a dim corner on his way to the church.
SUBSCRIBE