Sea of faith
Every start of the year, an outskirts district from Manila becomes a place where the divine truly resides among a crowd resembling a sea of faith.
From the Misa Mayor (Great Mass) in Quirino Grandstand, Manila to the narrow Villalobos Street every Jan. 9, God finds his home named after a renowned species of water lily (Nymphaea).
It was Friday, Jan. 17, 2025, when my mom fetched me from school in Mandaluyong around 3 p.m.
I thought we were already going home, but she surprised me. We were bound for Quiapo.
It has been a year since my mom and I started visiting the famed arrabales (outskirts) district of Manila.
I favor the nutty local taste of lumpia from the renowned Globe Lumpia House. Oftentimes, a merienda at the Lacson Underground Market would fill some cravings for hopia and quench the thirst for lemon juice as my mom and I walk toward Echague, where the old and modernized jeepneys pass by.
The main intention was a first-time visit to the famed image of Hesus Nazareno at Quiapo Church. It was difficult to convince my mom at first.
“Susubukin ka Niya (He will test you)”—I was discouraged by my family from having a devotion to the cross-laden, suffering Hesus Nazareno. It was believed that whoever asked for a favor or hiling from the Nazarene would have to endure the most difficult challenges in life; those who persevere to the end are greatly rewarded. Well, it was a gamble my family could not risk.
All of a sudden, a miracle from God, I presume, occurred one time.
My grandparents were in their living room when the cabinet and air conditioner in their bedroom caught fire. Rapidly, the flames consumed everything in sight. It left a charcoal hue on the wall. But only one item, wrapped in plastic, was preserved—the very fabric used to clothe the Nazarene.
In the past, my family was actually devotees of the Nazarene and participated in the pabihis, sponsoring the maroon garment for the image. Their faith waned through the decades until the fire reminded them. It was a sign. It was a call.
It piqued my interest that many people had this piety and this panata or vow to the Nazarene, questioning my own faith.
I wanted to visit Quiapo Church, but my mom was difficult to convince. In fact, she looked at me with disdain when I bought a Pasiong Mahal that had the image of the Nazarene.
Despite my family’s discouragement, I was surprised that my mom booked a Grab to Quiapo on a Friday, a time when most devotees would often visit.
It was around 4 or 5 p.m. We bought some panyo outside in Plaza Miranda for the pahalik, when devotees would touch the image of the Nazarene. Many devotees raised their hands when Lucio San Pedro’s prominent hymn, “Nuestro Padre Hesus Nazareno,” was sung.
As we tried to enter through the small-sized entrance, my claustrophobic mom kept her calm as we went along with the bundled crowd. It was indeed packed. However, I realized what devotion really meant. Every devotee will do everything to have a glimpse of Christ even through that narrow entrance.
The Nazarene was at the center of it all. The gilded church was focused on Christ, who carried the Cross. Humility was the wealth of heaven. Suffering was the joy of the angels. Without doubt, it inspired me as a Catholic.
In a rare instance, the line to the confessional was lengthy. I confessed my sins and received the absolution from a priest. It was just in time for the Eucharistic Prayer.
The Mass continued yet the number of devotees was seismic. We had to go to the pahalik. The quickest way was through the registrar, which was not allowed.
But God decided, through the kindness of the woman who guarded the place, to allow us to see the image of Hesus Nazareno.
It was a grace to touch the Nazarene for the first time, to give prayers, and place a hiling—something the Nazareno granted for a student like me, competing in various academic extracurriculars.
While my skin condition flared up, many things happened during the academic year 2025 to 2026. The Nazareno granted me many things I am thankful for. Prayers answered!
After the pahalik, it was coincidentally the distribution of Holy Communion and I thank God for such a grace.
My mom and I went home through a Pasig-Quiapo e-jeepney. It was a refreshing end to an hour in Quiapo. This would continue throughout the whole year as I ponder on the renowned arrabales of Manila.
Certainly, the Nazareno reminds me what it means to have faith. There are no more incredulous thoughts. There are no more doubts. It is an extraordinary assent to superabundant divine grace, an assent to love.
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Hanz Abantao, 18, is a senior high school campus journalist.
