By Rex Catubig

 

I had high expectations. The Abet abet ed Olin Inbilay that we held on Easter Sunday last year was a crowd drawer. Impressed, the Mayor enthused: “Let’s make it bigger”.

I started to work in earnest. After working on successive big events, my adrenaline was still running high. But my initial attempt to engage a church superior fell flat. I was referred to a parish priest for assistance instead.

Undaunted, I did some backdoor knocking, hoping to get a religious celebrity to rock the event, so to speak. But the timing was off. Even the devil was busy on the campaign trail.

I met with the parish priest and his parishioners, but proceeded cautiously, not wanting to be disappointed. The meeting was calmly enthusiastic. They wanted to introduce an innovation that seemed like asking for the moon. I was skeptical and wondered if it could be done. But they were confident.

I went to work, mindful of the time constraint as the schedule ran into the Holy Week—thus losing work hours.

On Maundy Thursday, I was met with a close sign on the supply store I would get materials from. I was able to dodge that hazard, only to be thrown a boulder after. Murphy’s Law had sneaked in and triggered a domino effect on what I thought was a well-laid plan.

My trek along Golgotha had begun.  Suddenly, I was told that the seminary choir wouldn’t be able to come and sing. That pushed down a crown of thorns on my head.

Who would sing? Even the cherubs and seraphims were fully booked to sing Hosannas in every nook of heaven. I was inconsolable. I tried to save the situation, to no avail.

“Ok lang”, my priest accomplice assured me. “Maybe that’s what the Lord wants”.

I wasn’t sure of that. I was adamant and incorrigibly stubborn. I wanted to stick to my plan.

On Holy Saturday, a message reached me that the light and sound crew were stuck in a gridlock in Sual. That hit me like thirty-nine lashes.

They made it to Tondaligan at 10pm. But there was no power supply! Incredibly, the power team thought they were needed at 3am. I felt like dragging the cross. I demanded they come at 1am. Agreed. But what were the chances their lifter truck would be stuck among parked vehicles? They couldn’t get out! I was ready for crucifixion.

The power came on around 2:30am but I still needed to design the lights! “Three thirty na sir”, my driver called my attention. “Maliligo pa kayo.” He himself has not slept yet.

I drove home but I was barely out of the shower when disoriented staffers began making SOS calls. To top it all, there were no chairs and tables yet! That pierced a deep stab on my side.

I hurried back only to find the crowd in disarray and the procession already in progress.

In contrast, the holy images of Jesus, Mary, and John were aloft three bancas and were sailing smoothly from a short distance on the placid beach, while sheer, frothy waves were lapping the shore as if whispering quiet adoration.

They docked on the sandy shore, and the scenario of Abet abet unraveled. A girl dressed as an angel was lifted up and she removed the black veil on Mary. The choir sang. The sound of pealing bells resounded on the speakers.

But as the priest began the mass, the lights went off. There was a power outage.

I died anew. But something happened to me in the dark; I was illumined by a thought. It dawned on me why things went wrong the way they did.

All the time, my attention was being called but I kept on ignoring the semaphores.

“Maybe that’s what the Lord wants”.

Yes, that was the message: It’s about him. Not about me. But I was preoccupied with indulging my creative prowess rather than letting the glory of the celebration simply unfold.  And I was gripped with skepticism that nothing would work if I let things be. I was a doubting Tomas even when faced with a gaping truth.

Believing I could work wonders got in the way. Yet humble obeisance was all that was being asked of me.

The Lord wanted me to see and do things His way. To be his humble instrument in delivering his message of eternal hope. In the spirit of sacrifice, he bore his Passion with.

A mustard seed of Faith is all it takes.

Share your Comments or Reactions

comments

Powered by Facebook Comments