Jesus Ouch Christ!

Another Easter has just gone by, and I was tempted to write something about it—me being such a fan of Christianity and all—but then I realized I wouldn't be able to top the Easter piece I wrote last year. A year ago I was living in the mountains of the northern Philippines, and a few weeks after Easter I dispatched the following missive to my personal mailing list. Enjoy.

* * *

Greetings, beloved congregation.

It’s your favorite recycler of literary waste, Glen Callender UFA, chiming in from the boondocks with another dose of unprosaic prose.

In today’s missive: You say you want a crucifixion? (Literally) foaming-at-the-mouth Catholics! And even more death! I warn you, if you miss this one, you’ll miss a lot of unnecessary bloodshed!

Philippines X: Jesus Ouch Christ!
By Glen Callender UFA
(Eternal rights reserved)

When I moved to the Philippines in October [2006], I vowed that I would remain in the Philippines at least long enough to watch the Good Friday Passion in San Fernando Pampanga.

This is a world-famous yearly event where an amateur theatre troupe re-enacts the Passion of Christ, complete with real, unsimulated crucifixions. That’s right, they actually nail the actors’ hands and feet to wooden crosses and hoist them up.

Sounds pretty crazy, eh? But as I learned, the crucifixions aren’t the craziest thing about this event. For pain, suffering and all-out gore, the prize has to go to the show’s warm-up act, the penitents.

FLAY YOU, FLAY ME
(or) THE NO-SKIN ZONE

Ah, the penitents. What some people will do to atone for their sins! For kilometers around the crucifixion site, processions of shirtless young men wandered the streets of San Fernando, wearing veils over their faces and flagellating their backs raw with bamboo whips.

And just in case the whips don’t do enough damage, they typically slash their backs with a knife beforehand to ensure that there will be plenty of blood. And there is.

Sometimes they pass out in the street from pain and dehydration and exhaustion—I know I would!—where they remain until some kindly bystanders help them up, massage their backs with ice and give them water. Then they go back on their unmerry way.

If you get near the penitents, you’re bound to get bloody too—because their blood-soaked whips spray droplets of blood about as they swing back and forth. This election poster was sprayed with blood, as was everything else in the street that day, including walls, the sides of cars, and, of course, my pants.


When I showed someone the blood on my pants, I was smilingly told not to wash it off, for the blood of the penitents is said to be good luck.

But in retrospect, I have to suspect that penitent blood perhaps isn’t so lucky after all.

Because not long after Good Friday, one of the penitents dropped dead.

Of rabies.

And it gets worse. Health authorities are very concerned, because several dozen penitents apparently used the same knife to lacerate the skin on their backs before heading out on the self-flagellation circuit. So there’s a considerable chance that more may have been infected. They’re currently tracking all the penitents down and giving them rabies shots.

Jeez folks, I’ve heard of foaming-at-the-mouth Catholics, but it’s supposed to be a figure of speech!

From Sky News: Rabies Scare After Ritual (April 18, 2007)

Here’s hoping that next year’s penitents will be more health-conscious and slash their backs with their own knives before whipping themselves raw for several hours in the blazing tropical sun.

In the meantime, it’s warming to know there’s a small chance that I was sprayed with rabies-infected blood on my way to seeing some crazy Catholic dudes get crucified. Just another Good Friday in the Philippines, folks!

YOU SAY YOU WANT A CRUCIFIXION?

So I made my way through the blood-sprinkled streets of San Fernando to the field where they performed the crucifixions. By the way, the church does not sanction or support this event, probably because it doesn’t cause nearly as many fatalities as the Black Nazarene procession, which the church does sanction.

After sweltering in the crush of people for a couple of hours—which was not fun—finally got around to nailing up their faux Christ, flanked on either side by a faux thief. (Or perhaps they were genuine thieves. They’re much easier to find than genuine Christs.)

In this photo you see Him getting His requisite wounds from the spear of a Roman soldier. Unlike the crucifixion itself, these wounds were, sadly, simulated.


After a few minutes they took the crucifees down and started nailing up a new group. But I was already on my way out, as was most of the crowd. It may have been the first time I’ve seen a public crucifixion, but it’s surprising how fast the novelty of it wore off and I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Or perhaps I wanted to leave because I’d just had a soul-shaking revelation. For alas, dear reader, just a few minutes before the crucifixions began, a stigmata appeared on the underside of my left wrist! See this photo if you doubt me!


A message from God that I should halt my heathen ways and face my destiny in the bosom of the church? Or just the latest in an unending series of random injuries inflicted by a cold and indifferent universe?

Stay tuned for further Glen Callender UFA stigmata updates.

* * *

And that was last year’s Easter story. Hopefully next year I’ll come up with something better. Or at least something.

Until next time, I remain, as ever, the delicious shark fin in the soup of shame that is your life,

Glen Callender UFA.
Vancouver, Canada.