BLACK NAZARENE

29 March 2025

Each year, on the 9th of January, the Feast of the Black Nazarene is celebrated in a religious festival attended by millions of Filipino devotees from all over the country.  It commemorates a significant event believed to have transpired in 1787, known as the “Traslacion.” (A Spanish word, its literal meaning is to move something from one place to another). On that day, the miraculous icon of the life-sized, blackened Jesus carrying his cross was transported from Intramuros where it was kept, through the main streets of Manila, finally reaching Quiapo Church, its final resting place.  This event is re-enacted annually.  From Quiapo, the icon is quietly transferred to the Quirino Grandstand near Intramuros before the Traslacion commences, and then processed all the way back to the Church.*  

Manny is a regular at the Traslacion, participating every year since 2014.  He last joined in 2018 before the festival was cancelled due to the COVID pandemic.  He is now hoping that President Marcos will revive the Traslacion next year, allowing devotees to process again by 2025.

He shares his 2018 experience thus:

“My wife and I left home well before sunrise so we could be in Quiapo early enough to get a good position. There, I left her so she could attend Mass and join in rosaries and novena prayers.  She then continued to San Sebastian Church whilst I proceeded to the Quirino Grandstand, the starting place of the Traslacion. I remembered trudging some 20 hours in the previous years, with crowds stretching some seven kilometres long.  As she couldn’t walk and jostle for hours and couldn’t possibly join me, we agreed that she would stay behind and meet me at our designated meeting point at San Sebastian after I had processed.

“For my part, I made a panata (vow) to walk barefoot without wallet or phone, relying on my own ingenuity and the generosity of storekeepers along the way.

“That day in 2018, I had been processing for about nine hours or so until I could see from some distance the Black Nazarene perched on the Andas (carriage). The Nazarene was on His knees, carrying His cross. Chanting and praying in a cacophony of litanies, the crowd of devotees bumped against each other. But for the next couple of hours, we could not move considerably forward. I was prepared. To avoid suffocation amidst the mass of people, I used the defensive position my father had taught me. Luckily, I am rather tall and muscular for a Filipino, so I could raise my chin for air. I was also careful to tuck my arms in front of me and ball my fists, pressing them against my chest in order to protect my rib cage.

“. . . Finally advancing, the throng jostled me forward. Slowly, I could see the Andas growing larger and larger. I knew from the past years that I would soon be able to touch and hold onto the ropes used to pull it, so I became increasingly excited; I would throw my small, white towel up the Andas to the alagad (disciple), and he would wipe it on the Nazarene, then he would toss it back to me. And that was all that mattered.  I would then have fulfilled my panata. This now-anointed towel would be wiped on my two small children who waited back home. It would cure whatever illnesses they might have and keep them from harm.

“. . . The crowd continued to shove and push. Suddenly, I yelped as I stepped on wet moss close to the gutter, losing my footing and falling right into the trench. I could hear my heart thumping from fear that I could get trampled on, so I kept repeating to myself, “Don’t panic”. I raised my arms and shouted, “Tulong, Kapatid!”  (Help, Brother). This was part of the briefing given to us devotees before the day of the procession. I could feel hands grabbing me and setting me upright until I was on my feet again. The unseen kapatids then moved forward, and after I assured myself I wasn’t hurt, I focused again on the Nazarene.  

“. . . I started manoeuvring my way towards the Andas. This time, following the instructions given over the megaphone, the horde seemed more synchronised. In another hour or so, I found myself close to the ropes, and soon, another devotee next to me, done with his own anointed towel, tapped me to take his place. I could only pray over and over again in gratitude. Holding on to the rope firmly, I locked eyes with the alagad and tossed my towel to him. When I caught the towel back, I felt this sudden, overwhelming sense of peace! With my “pulling” of the ropes, I helped in the pagpapasan (carrying) of the cross of Christ. This was the ultimate expression of my devotion.

“. . . Mission accomplished, I again raised my hand for my exit as I made my way out to the wider street.  It took a while to catch my breath, before trudging towards my planned meeting place with Sandra -- the San Sebastian Church.  This was where the Traslacion would stop for the Dungaw (practice of putting sacred images outside the Church for veneration). Here, the image of Our Lady waited to meet her Son, the Nazarene, on His way to Calvary. The Traslacion itself would end many hours later at the Quiapo Church”.

It is Sandra’s turn to tell her story:

“I sat fidgeting at the San Sebastian Church. I had already done my prayers, including all my private novenas to various saints and to the Blessed Virgin. As I waited, time seemed to go too slowly. I worried that Manny was more than a couple of hours late from our agreed time. Even with the safety protocols, safety marshals, and the police in place, many still get hurt during the Traslacion. The year before, I remembered, more than 2,000 people were injured, from fainting spells to fractures. And the year before that, there were four registered deaths—from cardiac arrests to being crushed. Of course, it helped that the Red Cross was there, and so were ambulances parked on wider streets. Also, the Kapatids or fellow processioners were always eager to help, even if it meant they lost their place in the Traslacion. 

“. . . I wanted to contact Manny to ensure he was safe, but there was no way. Leaving our home in Antipolo, he only had enough money for the fare to Quiapo. As with many who participated in the Traslacion, he did not carry his mobile phone or wallet, trusting instead in the generosity of those who had volunteered to give the devotees water and food—mostly storekeepers in the vicinity.  This too was part of their own panata.  

“. . . There was nothing I could do except wait and pray.  After what seemed like an eternity, I finally saw the towel-waving Manny carrying a half-eaten sandwich and grinning from ear to ear. When I saw the towel, I dropped to my knees in gratitude and thanksgiving”.    

* * *

Manny and Sandra met at university, drawn together by their surprise that they both came from a family of ardent followers of the Black Nazarene—a devotion they shared to this day.  Sandra recounted how her Lola (grandmother) would regularly take her and her siblings to Quiapo Church where the Black Nazarene was kept. She taught them the pahalik (tradition of touching and kissing the feet of Christ). They kept the practice even after their Lola passed—and this intensified during their parents' separation when the family was in shambles. With the Nazarene’s help, their parents parted amicably and now were even on good terms.

In Manny’s case, it was his father who brought him to the Black Nazarene. A sickly boy, they both prayed for the healing of his various illnesses. As they touched and kissed the feet of the Nazarene, his father made a panata that if his son were cured, he (Manny) would become a devotee. Now, he was a strapping young man of 30, participating in each year’s Traslacion.

As a couple, both Sandra and Manny frequently visited the Black Nazarene in Quiapo, especially on the first Friday of each month, mainly in gratitude for their many blessings.  Manny had prayed that Sandra be the right woman for him, and Sandra had prayed for a remedy to her mental health issues, as she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The couple’s faith and constancy had miraculous returns. Soon after their marriage, they were blessed with two healthy children, Sandra suffered less from depression, and they easily found good jobs—he in online sales, and she in a call centre.

At first, Manny and Sandra limited their devotion to attending the various commemorative rituals held at Quaipo Church as it prepared for the Traslacion. But starting in 2014, they decided to participate more actively. The more robust Manny processed whilst the more claustrophobic Sandra patiently waited for him at the San Sebastian Church, an important point of the Traslacion, taking the opportunity to walk on her knees in supplication to and veneration of the Blessed Virgin.

Back to their experiences during the 2018 Traslacion:  the day after, Manny and Sandra learned that between four and five million Filipinos had joined the procession, and that about eight million had participated in the two weeks of the attendant Quiapo Church activities.

They are indeed grateful for these strong memories because they have not participated in a similar event since. Sad but understandable, the procession has been suspended since the pandemic. Still, the couple hopes the Traslacion might resume as soon as COVID-19 is really out of the way, and they could take the children with them, at least to wait in Quiapo Church with Sandra. That didn’t happen in 2024, but they are looking forward to perhaps 2025 being the year.

_________________

Notes: 

*1. Many have wondered why the Nazarene is coloured black. There are two stories behind this. The simpler one is that it was crafted in Mexico out of mesquite wood—a dark hard wood similar to the Philippine kamagong—it can turn even darker over time. The more elaborate tale is that the galleon carrying the image got burnt, but the now blackened Nazarene survived intact.

2. The original icon was brought to the Philippines by the Augustinian Recollects and enshrined in their church in Bagumbayan, where the Quirino Grandstand is now located. It was later moved to nearby Intramuros, then returned to Bagumbayan, and finally transferred to Quiapo Church. It is said that the image performed many miracles, so devotion to the Black Nazarene spread far and wide until it enveloped the whole archipelago. Since then, replicas have been made and venerated all over the country.

3. At the start of 2025, President Ferdinand Marcos, Jr. once more declared the coming 9th of January a non-working holiday for Manila so that Filipinos could join the Black Nazarene procession. Mass was held at the Quirino Grandstand in Luneta (current name of Bagumbayan), presided by the Archbishop of Manila, and attended by the hermano mayor (current mayor of the city) and other prominent citizens, as well as the Quiapo Church Rector. The Hijos del Nazareno (Sons of the Nazarene) took charge of lifting the icon to the Andas, and the Traslacion commenced.

Meanwhile, other devotees waited for the Black Nazarene's return to Quiapo Church, where Masses were being said, prayer vigils being kept, and the pahalik continued.  

COMMENTARY:

Frans de Waal, a prominent ethologist, defines religion as a shared reverence for the supernatural, the sacred, or the spiritual, associated with rituals, symbols, and worship.  It is as good a definition as any, although perhaps it lacks the most critical element – that religion is necessarily associated with a system of beliefs and that this belief system is what leads to the worship of a higher power. 

Embedded in the human psyche, spirituality has existed since pre-history.  It is the institutionalisation of spirituality that gives rise to the world’s various religions.  Amongst the world’s religions, Christianity is practised by the majority, and amongst Christians, a full 50% are affiliated with Roman Catholicism.

Catholicism plays an essential role in Philippine religious and socio-cultural life.  According to the 2020 census combining all religious faiths, more than 90% of the population are Christians, of whom 78% are Roman Catholics and 12% Protestants of various denominations. Muslims comprise 6%, and about 2% have no religion or exclusively practise animism and other indigenous beliefs.  There is also a small number, perhaps less than a percentage point, belonging to various ethno-linguistic groups who practise Taoism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and other religions.

Philippine Statistics Authority. (2020). Census of Population and Housing. Retrieved from https://psa.gov.ph
Smith, J. (2023). The Role of Evangelicals in Philippine Christianity. International Journal of Theology, 38(2), 89-102.

The Philippines is one of only two Christian countries in all of Asia -- the other being East Timor, with just over a million inhabitants, established as a country in 2002. How this came to be is told by the writer Nick Joaquin.  Before the Spaniards arrived in the 16th century, the archipelago, with its primarily animistic beliefs, was relatively terra incognita among the Muslims of West Asia (the Middle East), the Hindus and Buddhists of South Asia, and the Taoists and Shinto practitioners of East Asia. Through trade and conquests, these various religions spread from the western region to the central areas and all the way to the south and northeast of Asia, largely bypassing the Philippine archipelago. (Various tribes engaged in minor trade with the Chinese and other neighbours, bartering items such as pearls and tortoise shells for silk and porcelain).

The islands were off the beaten paths of the pre-16th Century traders, and the indigenous settlements themselves were not known seafarers who might have taken the initiative to explore other places for trade. Yet, the southernmost parts of the archipelago were already settled some 200 years earlier by Muslim migrants from Indonesia, Malaysia, and Brunei. It is not known why Islam did not spread to other parts of what would become the Philippines when it had such a long head start.

It was only in 1521 when Ferdinand Magellan, in search of a new route to the Spice Islands, accidentally discovered the country, not only for Spain but perhaps for the rest of the civilised world. Other Spanish expeditions followed, the most successful of which was in 1565, headed by Miguel Lopez de Legazpi. He was to colonise the archipelago for both religious and economic purposes. The Manila-Acapulco Galleon Trade followed soon after, and Manila became a trading entrepôt. 

Legazpi’s mission was complemented by the simultaneous arrival of friars tasked with converting the animistic islanders to Catholicism.  As Spanish officials were relatively few, many townships were left unattended, and the far more numerous friars stepped into the vacuum of political power.  With both secular and religious authority, they readily converted large areas, although it would take a couple more centuries before the truly widespread conversion was realised. By the end of the 19th Century, Catholicism was firmly entrenched in the religious practices of the country and remained so even as the coming of the American missionaries in the early 20th Century introduced Protestantism. 

The Philippines might remain overwhelmingly Roman Catholic, but beliefs and practices are not uniform.  Many are traditionalists, some fundamentalists, but I would hazard a guess that the most popular form is a combination of folk and traditional Catholicism.  An example of this is Manny’s and Sandra’s devotions, as well as the millions of Filipinos’ annual participation in the Traslacion.

Folk Catholicism typically refers to a religious form that incorporates Catholic practices with indigenous beliefs, customs, and traditions.  For many, it includes superstition, magic, and old rituals such as those practised by the albularyos or faith healers.  (For example, see the narrative on Doktor sa Barrio, where, to rid his patient’s hex, Tata Temeng combines his incantations with sprinkles of holy water blessed by a priest). The accounts of Manny and Sandra above are replete with magical elements and a transactional relationship with the Nazarene.  Along with millions of others, they engage in a very public display of religious devotion. Processions are rooted in old Catholic traditions but also perfectly jibe with the Filipinos’ high extroversion.  Folk elements are, likewise, found in the pahalik, walking barefoot, and the simple touching of the Nazarene to bring about miracles.  Again, our culture lends to touch – a perfect fit to the popular religious observances.  I would posit that more than half of Catholic Filipinos simply superimpose the current dicta from the Vatican to those brought in by medieval Spain many centuries ago, combined with our earlier indigenous beliefs. (Interestingly, a full 38% of Filipino Catholics say they attend Mass at least once a week. However, only about 17% of the current Spanish population are practising Catholics.  This makes the Philippines a case of the student surpassing their teacher).

Many of these deeply religious Filipinos are openly fundamentalists, believing in the literal interpretation of the Bible and strict adherence to specific interpretations of the Church’s theological doctrines, its official liturgy and sacraments. They have an uncompromising stance towards the rituals of the Catholic Church – the regularity of going to confession, the unrelenting expressions of their devotion to the Virgin Mary, whether it be by wearing her scapular, or continuous rosary prayers.  Further, they may condemn every practice perceived as against the teachings of the Catholic Church, e.g., contraception.  They may also feel the need to convert family and friends to uphold what they think are the true teachings of the Church. It is the unquestioning, unbending, and strict obedience to every Catholic precept that separates fundamentalists from traditionalists.

There is additionally a growing segment of the Christian population that contributes to our religious landscape in various ways, especially among the youth.  Charismatic, Evangelical, Pentecostal, and Born-Again Christians are movements that straddle both the Catholic and the various Protestant sects.  They emphasise personal faith experiences and a more direct relationship with God.  Particularly attractive in urban settings, they are known for their varying theologies, lively worship styles, which include contemporary music, expressive praise, and a focus on spiritual gifts such as speaking in tongues.  Whilst many traditionalists frown on them and their often foreign systems of beliefs, these movements make Christianity, in one way or another, more relatable to their members. They use their faith in meaningful ways, perhaps as a channel for engaging their communities through outreach and community development programs, or political discourse advocating moral issues, all the while maintaining strong ties with both local and international like-minded movements.  

In summary, Christianity, and especially Catholicism, have a unique role in being integrated deeply into the fabric of daily life in the Philippines. They emphasise the role of communal worship – the vibrant celebration of the feast of saints or fiestas, attendance at Sunday Mass, and Lenten observances are practices that are passed down from generation to generation. As both a personal matter and communal experience, they strengthen social bonds and cultural identity, creating a sense of solidarity and shared faith among devotees. It is in our religion where our faith, culture, and community intersect, forming a central role in many Filipinos’ sense of identity.

Finally, it is this particular religiosity that is the main reason behind the country’s resilience in the face of poverty.  It is this particular religiosity that protects us from hopelessness, that gives us refuge in times of adversity.  It is this particular religiosity that makes us kind and generous even to outsiders, as was proven during the COVID Community Pantry drive. If we are not careful, however, this particular religiosity could also rob us of our sense of agency, so necessary if we are to solve our myriad problems.